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pretty-writing-things · 2 years

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No Happy Endings

Some backstory first: This was written for a contest in a discord server called Wellsprings.

Wellsprings is a role play server, and the point is basically this place called Wellsprings, that kidnaps people with powers or ‘Gifted’ and trains them for a war. Now note that in the server a lot of training doesn’t happen (And when it does it’s traumatic) and the server is mostly chaos between all the gifted. I have an invite link, just ask.

I didn’t win but I am pretty proud of it! And it’s pretty Whumpy so it belongs here.

This oc is Arizona! I wanna write more with her. Basically she’s insane. Hallucinates, and has delusions, she is not well.

Featuring all my other OCs in the server at the end! You may recognize a few. ___________________________________________________________

TW’s :: Murder, Thoughts of self harm, suicide, blood, let me know if I’m missing any!

If Wellsprings Never was Years in the future. Wellsprings has about taken over everything with their technological and scientific achievements, not only detaining gifted, but creating their own superhumans from them to bend the world to their will. __________________________________________________

‘This place was an awful mistake.’ The man thought, as he reached out to gently take that strand of time. And then, he’d made up his mind, pulling the thread with all his might, any gentleness gone.

The dark blue thread began to dissolve, as did some attached to it. Some of those threads were lighter blues, shades of purples, and pinks. The colors of the galaxy, here, connecting every thought, place, action, idea.

And as the thread dissolved into little white stars, then nothingness, the man smiled.

The idea of the place had never been. All the atrocities they’d committed, undone. And he… well he was dissolving too. Perhaps he himself had been one of those atrocities. A person who had never meant to be. Another experiment created by that wicked, wicked place.

‘Good…’ He watched himself dissolved, surprised it held no pain. No feeling at all. The end was coming, and he was ever thankful for it. His last thoughts were, that perhaps the gifted from that place could live… happy lives.

Little did he know, nothing he’d done to fix the past made anything in the future any better, and Wellsprings was replaced instead by a group, a group sent to kill, a group much, much worse. At least Wellsprings had let most the gifted live.

And some people were never meant to be happy. ______________________________________________

An imaginary scream tore through her mind, startling her and making her jump. Not half a second later, a pain grew in her hand and she looked down. The knife she’d been using had cut into her palm, just enough for it to bleed.

Lily, her caretaker at the time and part of the staff at the mental institute, jumped forward taking the knife from her. “Arizona, goodness child, be careful with that thing!”

Ari was thankful for the knife being taken from her grasp, even though her mind urged her to do it again. “Sorry…” She murmured, though to Lily, or to her own thoughts apologizing for the fact she couldn’t, she wasn’t sure.

“Ahh, well you’ve helped plenty today I think. Let’s get that fixed up.”

Lily led Ari out of the kitchen, informing the cook that Ari was leaving and new help would arrive soon. Ari eyed the knife as they left, her mind telling her to make herself bleed some more, while simultaneously Ari wished her mind would shut up.

She was considered one of the more sane ones here, and was allowed to help in the kitchen and around the Institute with other mundane tasks. If they saw her as getting worse - which she wasn’t quite sure she wasn’t - she wouldn’t be able to help anymore. Her only wonderful distractions from her mind would be taken from her. Besides, she felt quite sure the boredom would swallow her up if she wasn’t busy.

If her mind didn’t shut up soon, she wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the kitchen.

It would have been right about now, as they passed the front desk, that Ari would see a man wearing a strange uniform, and it would have been about fifteen minutes later when necessary paperwork would be completed and she’d be leaving this place for a different place: Wellsprings.

However, there was no one there, and Ari was led to the infirmary where her hand was bandaged without much fuss.

And when she made it back to her room, rather than being urged to pack the few items she had by a man she didn’t know, her mind was urging her to find something sharp. Ari lay down, pulling her blankets up over her head, curling up and closing her eyes. Focusing on anything other than the pain in her hand.

If she had been taken to Wellsprings that day, it would have distracted her mind from its self-destructive route completely, but today she only had other thoughts to distract herself with.

She ended up falling asleep like that, in the middle of the day, in her red many-layered dress, her hair still up in a bun on the top of her head. ____________________________________________________

Ari woke up in the middle of the night, having slept for nearly nine hours. She didn’t think she’d be going back to sleep anytime soon. She pulled the blanket from her head, sitting up. Her hands went to her hair, pulling out the pins and ribbons that kept it up, dropping them onto the nightstand. She fluffed out her hair, supposing she looked rather pretty at the moment. Shame it was the middle of the night, perhaps if she were only pretty enough someone would fall in love with her. Probably not. Likely that was her crazy talking. Ari frowned, staring at the mirror across the room. In the moonlight she could sorta see her reflection. An outline of her face. She couldn’t see much, but she knew what she looked like.

She could hope she had some color in her face today. Could hope her eyes were brilliant blue, taking in every detail in the world around her.

She was likely pale. Too pale, too skinny. On bad days she looked almost sickly, her eyes distant or focusing on nothing at all. She could already feel today was not gonna be a good one. Her first indication was her hands were shaking. She clenched them in her skirt.

‘If I break the mirror the pieces may be sharp.’

“Shut up.” Ari felt like screaming it. It would wake people up. Send the staff running. So she repeated it in whispers, “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut-”

A floorboard creaked, attracting her attention. Looking towards the sound, she saw the shadow of a figure, standing by the wall in her room.

She stared for a second.

“Go away.” She said sourly. The hallucination didn’t disappear, it simply stood there. “I said, g-”

“No.”

Ari stopped. Must have been quite the hallucination if she was hearing it too. Or perhaps she was still sleeping. No, that didn’t make sense. The cut on her hand still hurt. Supposedly, you didn’t feel pain in dreams. However she wasn’t sure she believed that. “Fine. I’ll ignore you then.” She stuck out her tongue at the figure, and after a second's hesitation, she lay back down.

The figure laughed. “Go ahead.”

Ari wasn’t looking at it anymore, but her thoughts were consistent in their wishing for it to go away. It’s laugh freaked her out. It echoed through the room, again, and again, until she was sure it wasn’t just an echo, but her mind repeating it to further drive her insane. She heard the creak of the old floorboards as the figure came closer to her, but she simply shut her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the hallucination was there. Another laugh - a real one - and she jumped. Her eyes flew open, the shadow was right beside the bed, looking at her.

Except it looked less like a shadow, more like a human. And had a knife in his hand that attracted what little light was in the room, making it catch her eye. She eyed the knife, while absentmindedly listening to the man's thoughts.

That was her gift. Thoughts, and emotions, when her mind permitted her to control it. It only added to her supposed insanity. The man must have known this, as his thoughts were directed towards her.

‘I’ve been sent here to kill you, but from what I can tell I don’t have to do a thing.’ “Kill me? Sureee, you’re a figment of my imagination, you can’t-”

He silently tapped her good hand with the knife, and the metal was cold. Now her mind was often weird, but she’d never felt a hallucination like that before. Sometimes her mind convinced her she did but that, that had felt real.

‘Do you want it? You can have it if you’d like’

She shook her head a little, but her hand was already closing around the knife. She held it tightly, seemingly unaware she was holding the blade. Ari stared up at the not-hallucination, wondering if she should feel afraid of him. At least he didn’t have his weapon anymore.

‘My superiors probably won’t be pleased with me, but I’m rather curious to see what you do with that, Miss Harris. Perhaps you’ll find freedom from this place. Maybe you’ll see the world, or maybe you’ll just die. Or maybe you could kill your parents, though I don’t suppose you remember what they did to you. If my superiors are mad with me, I could always remind them you aren’t a threat to anyone, Miss Ari. And if you were, it wouldn’t be because of your gift. You’re worthless.”

Ari had already figured she was worthless.

A threat however…

Something in Ari’s mind snapped, and a slow smile formed on her lips. Not a threat. Part of her doubted that, and the other part fought but failed. A threat. Lethal even, perhaps. That part of her that won very much liked the sound of that.

Ari didn’t remember much after that, just that those words repeated themselves over and over in her head, and she hated that man for them.

Worthless. Not a threat.

When the institute staff came to bring her to breakfast the next morning, they found her sitting at the edge of her bed, a knife in her hand. The knife was covered in blood, both the handle and the blade. Her hand was injured. Her pretty red dress wasn’t red enough to hide the blood stains.

She had a little smile on her lips, and was staring at the floor, where a dead man lay. Stabbed to death, then stabbed some more.

Ari didn’t respond to any of their questions, didn’t even really acknowledge they were there. They tried to pry the knife from her hand, but she would not let it go. So they closed, and locked the door to her room, and waited for the authorities to arrive. She relented the knife to them, and they got rid of the body.

Still, no one knew why the man was there, or even how he’d gotten in, and Ari still hadn’t spoken. Had barely moved except for letting them bandage her hand.

‘My hands match now…’ She remembered thinking, and feeling quite pleased about it.

She only moved when she lay down to go to sleep, and only when she fell asleep did her little smile fade. _________________________________________

Ari was never quite right after that.

The Mental Institute gave her up to another one, one more equipped to handle a murderer, a possibly dangerious person.

A threat.

But something in Ari’s brain had snapped that night, she had killed a man.

And it scared her. She scared herself.

And after that, her mind seemed to shut down. She barely acknowledged anyone’s existatance, rarely looked at anyone. Her eyes never quite seemed to focus anymore anyway.

She spent her days in a sort of haze. She took scalding hot showers and didn’t seem to mind. Spent her days whenever possible in bed, underneath a pile of blankets. On a good day she might go outside, and sit in the sun. Be reminded she was alive, and the world was glorious.

Those good days never lasted long.

Sometimes she spoke, but it never did make much sense, or it was apologies, repeated over and over until the words were barely intelligible through her sobs, and she’d cry herself to sleep.

She was like this for a year or so, absolutely, and totally broken.

Until…

By some mistake, made by some idiot, or perhaps on purpose by whoever was out killing gifted people, Ari had access to another knife.

Panic filled her, breaking through the fog in her mind. It only took a moment to decide, and a second's hesitation when she picked it up. After that, there was no hesitation and she drove the blade through her chest.

Ari was dead before the sob escaped her lips.

She hated herself, hated this blank life she’d been living, hated the man she’d killed, hated that she had killed him, hated that a part of her wanted more death, hate, hate, hated.

A person with that much hate inside could only survive for so long. ____________________________________________ I did say at the beginning, that some people were never meant to be happy.

Fixing Wellsprings did something good for Georgia, the group now killing Gifted never found her, never realized she was indeed gifted. She was one of the few allowed to live, allowed to be happy.

No one else was quite as lucky.

Maine never told anyone she could turn invisible. It was too big a secret to get around, her only safe place from the people in her life. She was never able to escape Missouri, and eventually he manipulated her into marrying him. They had a daughter, a daughter Maine had never wanted, but once Maine held the child she realized she loved her. And she felt something for the first time in years.

Happy.

Missouri threatened to hurt the girl, and Maine killed him before he could follow through with it.

Missouri died, never knowing who killed him, as she had stabbed him from behind. He died before his mind even registered something was wrong.

Maine lived on, feeling little to no emotion, except towards her daughter.

So neither of them really lived ‘happily ever after’.

If Texas hadn’t been brought to Wellsprings that day, she’d have been there when her house burned down, and her parents died.

Maybe she would have died too.

Or maybe, she escaped the house on her own, suddenly thrown into a world she knew nothing about. She was naive, and the world so cruel. She’d likely have many trials before the killers found her. They did kill her, and she hadn’t even had the thought that she should fight them…

Penny fought. She fought them and won, but they never stopped coming for her. She grew tired too fast, she’d been learning all her life to help people, not kill them. The next time they came, she let them.

The only OC missing from all this, is Montana.

And quite frankly, I don’t know much about her, never mind her backstory of where she would have ended up if Wellsprings was replaced with a group of gifted murdering people. Nor do I think I care. I don’t even think she has a gift tbh _____________________________________________

Moral of the story: You can’t fix the past but you can make the future much much worse. Ari could lose it at any time :D And I am very tempted!!

If you’re gonna kill someone don’t be stupid about it, you’ll end up dead.

Actually don’t kill anyone, ever. :D

Joy can’t write anything happy. Ever. I’m sorry.

#State actually wrote something #Tw suicide #Suicide #TW self harm #Self harm #TW blood #Blood #TW murder #Murder #Sorry I promised to post this forever ago

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derelictheretic · 3 years

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Comfort cult leader preacher man

#Far Cry 5 #fc5 #Joseph Seed #nadine doodles #Far Cry Tag #no tattoos for him i'm tired #we gots' a smiley boy out here lads #pretty smile to distract you from all the atrocities he's committed #i'm not really happy with the left one so just look at the right one thanks 💜#misc: queue me like you do

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Generous offering

Yandere!Zhongli x gn!Fatui Harbinger!reader

Wordcount:1843

CW:Yandere themes

There are several simple things one should know before dealing with the archons - be respectful and polite, speak only when you’re allowed to and most importantly - never forget that archons aren’t humans.

The first two rules are instinctive - it’s natural for humans to simper and bow before the forces far greater than them, while the latter is not; on the contrary it’s counterintuitive and unexpected. People tend to project, tend to humanize - they see kindness when there’s none and make a huge mistake of assuming that archons see things the way they see it.

Tsaritsa, for example, lacks humanity, despite holding the title of Goddess of Love. The love that she holds for you is different from love mothers and fathers give to their children, or love that young sweethearts share at night, it’s cold and impersonal and undeniably cruel.

Tsaritsa says that she loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, yet she lashes out a harsh and gruelling punishments at every perceived failure and rules her land with an iron fist, one would think that the cryo archon is a liar and a hypocrite, who uses pretty, flowery words to hide the atrocities she commits, but this perspective is flawed. Tsaritsa loves all of you and she loves Snezhnaya, she’s just not human enough to properly express this.

That’s why it’s a bit jarring to see the ancient lord of these lands in his mortal form - he lacks the same otherworldly terror and grandiose that every of Tsaritsa’s move and word carry, yet he also possesses the air of wisdom and elegance so refined that rare person can reach it. It’s easy to assume that he’s human.

Rex Lapis, or “Zhongli” as he calls himself now invites you to the Liuli pavillion the second day after your arrival, for tea and local cuisine as he says, and who are you to decline a God?

Liuli staff hurries and dashes around, preparing their best room for you - Fatui are known for their seemingly endless finances, no wonder they’re in haste. “Please make yourself comfortable, dear guests”, the waiter curtsies and leads you to the dining room, which happens to be richly furnished and decorated with high-quality darkwood furniture and the hand painted wall panels further accentuating the luxury of the restaurant.

One of these panels illustrate different scenes from the Liyuen mythos - a battle of mighty and wise adepti against the horde of demons, Rex Lapis aiding his people in building the Harbour and the most spectacular one - a majestic dark brown dragon with golden fur and feathers descending to the devoted worshippers, who in turn present him with their offerings and gratitude.

He orders tea and meals for both of you, as you start to converse about the plan that he is determined to bring into life - the so-called test of Liyue, and the guarantee of you obtaining his gnosis.

“And what about your colleague?”, he sips a bit of his tea, intense amber eyes piercing right through you. He looks both human and non-human in this moment, both undeniably mortal softness and frailty seen in his figure and the barely concealed divinity, the sense of awe slowly seeping into air mixing in one person.

“And what about him? Tsaritsa and you have negotiated everything beforehand, I will make sure that he plays his part properly”, he hums at your answer, lowering his gaze deep in thought. You start on your own tea.

Ah, Childe, if only he knew why exactly he’s here - a distraction and a scapegoat. You even feel bad for him - it’s truly unfair to be lied to by your own Goddess. However, it’s also not a big surprise - Childe is the loudest out of all Harbingers in all senses. Infamous for his skills and battle obsession, his name is enough to have people both shivering in fear and cursing him.

“What do you think of your archon? Was serving her of any use to you?”Rex Lapis unexpectedly asks.

You lean back in your seat, thinking what to say.

“Tsaritsa is a gentle soul, she declared war only to protect us, her subjects and I am ready to aid her in whatever undertaking she starts”.

“Will you continue to serve Tsaritsa, if her action might put you in danger, make you suffer and bring unnecessary grief?”, he leans closer to you, his human features distorting enough to reveal the ancient dragon sleeping inside. His eyes shine a cold golden glow and accurate fingernails morph into sharp, dark claws.

“Yes”, you breathe out, mesmerized and terrified by the sudden change: “Her love knows no bounds, yet she always puts the needs of the nation before anyone else. If my suffering can help Snezhnaya, then I will accept it with open arms”, he moves back at your answer, all draconic traces gone in an instance, upper corner of his lips subtly rising - whatever you said must’ve pleased him immensely.

The conversation flows back into the territory of plans to be realized, yet the cold sensation of dread still clings to you, your gut feeling yelling at you to get up and run. You remain seated to the end of your meeting, politely conversing with the God that terrifies you.

***

Days slowly grow into weeks and Childe acts just as you have expected - the Eleventh Harbinger might be smart, yet even he wouldn’t be able to see what two of you are scheming. Still, you request Ekaterine, a spy you planted in Northland bank, to keep you updated on the Tartaglia’s actions - extra caution never hurts.

You continue to meet up with geo archon, as you two discuss your next actions. Tartaglia has started cooperating with that blonde foreigner Signora has warned you about, and while this union doesn’t pose any threat to your plans, it’s always good to have a plan B, just in case something happens.

Sometimes your conversation develops into a more unexpected direction, as you find the archaic lord more chatty and tending to ramble, than any of Liyuen historians would dare to picture him as. One on such occasion he talks with you about dragons - benevolent deities who protect and bless their people in an exchange of generous offerings.

His eyes devour you, as he retells you ancient folktales and you suppress your discomfort, preferring to attribute his honestly unnerving behaviour down to his lack of humanity - he was never human in the first place.

That’s why you also prohibit yourself from viewing him as anything but God - Rex Lapis in his “Zhongli” persona is genuinely attractive, he’s well-mannered and obviously handsome and far more knowledgeable than any mortal should be. If you didn’t know of his true nature you would have fallen for him by now - it’s hard not to.

Life, how strange that wouldn’t sound, goes as usual - you get Ekaterine’s report on what Childe’s up to and if it’s something unexpected you book a Liuli pavilion room and send an invitation to the funeral parlour consultant. You only need to wait until Childe gets desperate enough and decides to use the sigils of permission to unleash the well-awaited chaos.

This routine however is soon broken by the appearance of familiar ashy-white hair in the distance. She doesn’t wear her signature mask or dress, nor are there agents at both of her sides, yet you can still clearly recognize her. Signora leaves the Wangsheng building in haste, cape with the hood concealing most of her face and figure, except the long locks of hair, peeking from inside.

What is she doing here?

You thought that Tsaritsa sent two of her servants - Tartaglia and you, him to “test” Liyue, you to oversee the former’s actions and obtain gnosis, there’s no need to send her too.

Your mind races, as you search for a logical explanation of Signora’s presence as your memory supplies the piece of first conversation you had with “Zhongli” - could it be that Tsaritsa also sent you to play a role you have no idea of?

Cryo archon is a goddess of love and her love is cruel and unforgiving, she has sacrificed countless chess pieces before, so it wouldn’t be surprising if she did that again - you are nothing but a pawn after all, one of the tools she uses to exact her will and force her vision, all of the Harbingers are.

You want to believe that you can accept and resign to whatever hardship and fate your Goddess might subject you to. You can’t.

***

Adepti and Qixing converse at the pier of the seaport, as you hurry to the Northland Bank, a slight smile playing on your lips - Childe has finally done it - he summoned an ancient god to lure out Rex Lapis, ultimately proving that Liyue can stand without him.

There are sounds of heated argument heard when you open the building’s door and then you see it - Signora and Tartaglia exchanging barely concealed insults and “Zhongli” standing nearby.

“[Harbinger]? What are you doing here?”, the ginger shifts his gaze onto you, a rare emotion of hurt and disbelief flickering in his dead fish eyes. “Of course, Tsaritsa sent you too”, he smiles, angry and disappointed. “Seems that whole world wants to make a bad guy out of me”, he stomps out of the room, leaving you with Signora and “Zhongli”

“[Harbinger]”

“Signora'', you acknowledge each other, after she trails exiting Childe with her eyes.

“I am here to take the gnosis of Rex Lapis”, she says and you nod, accepting that your Goddess lied to you too: “Tsaritsa also asked me to give you this letter”, she extends her arm, a thick envelope with the familiar seal catching your attention.

With the trembling hands you snatch it out of her hold and almost rip the envelope - for what reason did Tsaritsa send you here?

She writes that you need to stay in Liyue for an undetermined period of time to upkeep “the agreement” made between her and Rex Lapis. You read her message silently, yet when your eyes trace over these words, the sensation of “ “Zhongli’s” eyes on you becomes ten times sharper and stifling. You don’t know what to do.

The other Harbinger leaves too, taking the gnosis with her, as “Zhongli” takes a couple of steps to you, touching your shoulder in a somewhat reassuring gesture. “[First]”, he starts, tone sympathetic and soothing. You don’t fall for it.

“You had your hand in it, didn't you?”, you hiss and accuse, throwing an angry glance at him, momentarily forgetting about the first two rules of dealing with archons.

He smiles, revealing two sharp fangs, his surprisingly scaly hands snaking around yours. “Yes”, Rex Lapis admits, and looks nothing like gentle and knowledgeable “Zhongli”. How could you forget? Archons aren’t humans, humanity is just a fancy dress they don to toy with mortals. He is the dragon, not the benevolent deity that is painted on the wall panels of Liuli pavillion, but a greedy and ancient creature, hungry for gifts and gratitude.

You are his generous offering.

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere Zhongli #Yandere Zhongli x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Male yandere #my writing #Yandere x reader #Male yandere x reader

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

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Tender Ch. 1 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Even though Loki doesn’t understand why the new member of the Avengers should be kind to him of all people, he doesn’t want you to stop either.

Warnings: Loki being depressed, the Avengers being kinda mean, mentions of Torture and Death

Words: ~2100

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

All eyes were on him again.

As soon as Loki would step inside, the previously lively room would fall completely silent. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to being the involuntary kill-joy...

Usually, the God of Mischief craved attention, may it be positive or negative - most of the time being the latter. But lately, after months of having all those distrustful and hostile glares piercing holes into him, he’d rather wish for the ground to swallow him whole.

“Umm, so...I gotta go.” Natasha was the first one to flee the unpleasant atmosphere, not even putting the energy into mutter anything else than a cheap excuse on her way out. Clint wordlessly followed her close after, but not without shooting the Odinson one last, spiteful look.

Loki on the other hand was picking on his hands, a nervous habit he had inherited from his mother. As much as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, the tensioned aura they were emitting making him feel close to breaking down completely - but he would never give them the satisfaction to witness this, he swore to himself.

And yet: Maybe he should just leave. Disappear, forever.

Although he’d never admit, Loki had grown very tired of his life following this stirr path, unable to diverge into a new direction. Everything he did would ultimately bring death and destruction upon mankind, inflicting fear in the hearts of all people.

His whole existence was based on being condemned to fail - just for others to reach their ‘glorius purpose’.

“Great” Tony scoffed. “Now they’re gone. Well done, prince of nothing.” Steve cut his friend off, clearing his throat very exaggeratedly.

The god still hadn’t moved from the doorframe of the conference room, while all others were already sitting on the oval-shaped table. He didn’t got what all that fuss was about. If Steve didn’t insist him to attend this emergency meeting, he’d just have gone about his usual business and avoided everyone as good as he could.

“C’mon, brother” Thor sighed, well knowing that if his brother was to stay in the team, it would ultimatively drive a wedge between them. All that pressure in the air was straining for everyone, including himself.

Tony on the other hand was pretty chill about everything, aside of being passive-aggressive. This was probably due to their similar coping styles.

Even though his near-death-experience back when he stopped the Chitauri was still eating on his mental health, he’d prefer glossing over it with stupid jokes and overly confident behaviour. “No sassy remark today, Reindeer Games?”

Stark was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed as he rose an eyebrow on the god, who only muttered a hoarse “No...not today.”

Yeah, it was kind of his style to break the unsettling silence through puny comments or self-glorifying speeches, to distract from his own insecurity.

But right now, he was just so damn tired.

Of this planet and it’s people, as well as the humiliating circumstances he had to dwell in. The fact that he was a prisoner at the Stark Tower, amongst his worst enemies. Being forced by his brother to keep up this meaningless act, as if he’d ever be seen as a team member or ally - when in reality, he was but a slave to the people he once ought to reign.

Just like back on Asgard: Never one of them, never belonging. No way to break free - for his true self was something to be loathed.

However, first and foremost the one thing he was especially tired of was himself, for he couldn’t get out of his own skin. Not only could he never be considered a hero, let alone be redeemed.

After all the atrocities he had commited due to Thanos’ torture and the tesseract’s influence, now that he woke up from that naive dream of power stilling the emptiness in his dark heart, there was nothing left for him - other than to be haunted by his crimes until the mercy of death would overcome him.

“Well” Steve began, slamming his palms on the desk to attract everyone’s attention. “As you all know, we are welcoming a new team member today.”

“They all know?” Of course they wouldn’t let him in on such sensitive information. Not that he minded either way - one Avenger more or less, it didn’t matter how many people hated him in here.

“Please, come on in.”

Loki cleared the entrance when he heared Tony’s words, turning around in anticipation of another dull creature like the Hulk to torment him - but his calm demeanour dropped completely at this unusual sight:

“Y-You?!”

That was simply not possible! The last time he had seen you was almost a year ago, and you were on the brink of death at that!

“For everyone that doesn’t know yet: Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She is one of the victims HYDRA experimented on, and they succeeded in forming an artificial mutant.”

Steve went on and on explaining about your powers, but Loki’s head had already turned on autopilot, the only thing he could concentrate on being how the hell you of all people ended up here.

All these months, he was desperately trying to get any information about you, all of his hints ultimately leading him to dead ends - and in the end, tragically believing in your imminent death.

The memories were still painfully vivid in his mind: It was his first mission together with the Avengers, at a HYDRA hideout with most likely no civil survivors.

Actually, he had planned to make his escape right when the others engaged in a fight, wandering the hallways of what resembled a torture chamber rather than a laboratory.

On the walls were several instructions, about a serum that might cause a human to mutate if they were exposed to unbearable stress - pain being the most effective method, apparently.

Yet instead of finding anything useful for his personal gain, he found you: A beautiful woman, yet emaciated and lying in a puddle of her own blood. At first he thought you to be dead just like the others - but as soon as your faint whimpers drang to his ears, he burst the cell you were trapped in open, rushing to your side immediately.

“Shh...” the god scooped you up from the cold stone floor, wrapping his cloak around your broken body. “Everything is alright now. Your savior is here.”

Loki gasped as he felt your hand stroking his cheekbone, even through all your pain and weakness wanting to bid your hero this due respect.

“Hel...you humans are such fragile creatures...” Loki muttered under his breath, cursing his own lack of talent when it came to casting healing spells. “Hang in there, look at me!”

Your eyes were teary and bloodshot, yet not less fit to bring across a message no words ever could: Incredible gratitude, and admiration.

He could tell you were close to passing out when your hand left his face, falling limp to the side. But he held you firmly in his arms, not once stopping to utter sweet words of encouragement as he made his way to the ship, leading you into safety.

“Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Those were the words he once directed at Black Widow - but only now he understood her attempts.

Saving one person could never make up for all the lives he had destroyed - and yet he knew that for you, it would mean the world none the less.

In one way or another, with your life at his mercy, he began to finally grasp the preciousness of life, and doing everything in one’s might to protect it.

“Reindeer Games” Tony tapped on his shoulders, making Loki wake from his pondering. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare her away on the first day already.”

Oh.

Just now he was noticing his own grim expression, having towered over your much smaller form this whole time with furrowed brows.

“My apologies” was his firm response, but you only shook your head, trying to tell him it was not a big deal.

So this was what you looked like when you’re not imprisoned, he realized when he took in your physique.

Much to his pleasure, all of your wounds had seemingly healed, and you finally gained some much needed weight. Like this, you looked so much more healthier - and most definetly even more bewitching than he remembered you.

If people had let him know, would he have visited your sickbed, aiding you towards health again? Who knows...

Yet somehow, he dwelled in the thought of you being able to lead a happy life now that you were free - which made your decision to seek out the Avengers in wish for more battles even harder for him to accept.

“You are incredibly strong, Lady Y/N” Loki spoke firmly, everyone else rolling their eyes at his usual exaggeration - but you knew he meant every word. “Be sure of my eternal respect.”

The God of Lies’ eyes widened in excitement when you directed a warm smile at him, knowing for sure that this one was genuine. It wasn’t like those fake smirks the other Avengers gave him out of politeness, or the mocking laughs when they were making fun of or excluding him.

No - that one was just pure affection. And it left him in awe.

“Thank you for saving me back then” you signed, just for Loki shooting you a puzzled look.

“What, I thought the all-tongue knows every language?” Tony yelled, as inconsiderate as always. Thor was quick to explain on his brother’s stead, him still being deeply invested with you. “Every spoken one, yes. ASL is not one of our fortes.”

Usually, Loki had always been a quick thinker. But right now he was to bewildered by your appearance that thinking straight was out of the question.

What language were they speaking of? And why have you not been saying anything up until now? Maybe his presence was making you uncomfortable, after all? Should he leave on your behalf?

To make it easier for him to understand, you rolled down your turtleneck, revealing the unsighty scar that covered your whole throat.

There were not many people bold enough to come close to the God of Mischief without warning, yet suddenly you simply took his hand and slowly led it to your neck.

How could you be so naive and offer someone like him such a vital spot?! He’ll never get the human philosophy...

And yet, the flabbergasted god hesistantly let his hand run over the scar, while you opened your mouth to no avail - for 11 months already, no tone would leave your vocal cords.

“I’m incredibly sorry...” Loki whispered with a sorrowful tone, while the others just stared in disbelief. “If only I was able to heal this wound back then...”

What a puny god he was...and an even more pathetic wanna-be-hero at that...

He would try to take a few steps back, but you took a hold of his hand, squeezing it with both of yours, that cheerful smile not faltering in the slightest.

“Please, don’t be sad. I’m only alive thanks to you!” Bucky, whose cousin was mute as well, translated what you were signing for Loki. His tone sounded quite irritated, not fitting those meaningful words. “I only wanted to join the Avengers because I want to be just like you. You’re my idol!”

Those words touched him deeply, igniting a flame inside of him he thought long to be defunct. Was it hope?

Of course it was not nearly enough to pull him out of that deep, dark hole he felt trapped in for as long as he could remember - yet somehow, he now felt that it was not impossible to escape.

While the others were cringing at your declaration, making jokes about ‘choosing wrong idols’ or would plainly not believe Loki to have a positive effect on anyone, the two of you would just stare at each other in silent admiration.

Shyly, you signed yet another word for him - and this time, Loki would know what you mean from pure intuition.

He smiled.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Loki was able to smile again, just thanks to your heartwarming welcome. And he was still blissfully unaware about what effect you could have on him, if he was brave enough to let you close.

One thing was sure: You literally had him wrapped around his finger from the very start.

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #Oneshot #Self Insert #Marvel #Disney #Fluff #Fem! Reader #God of Mischief #Loki / Reader

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theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Selfish Deeds (Yandere! Gojou Satoru)

Summary: Satoru just wants you to be free of danger. If you are so knowledgeable why can’t you understand that he only wish the best for you?

A/N: This is just one snippet of many out of a collection(haven't decide the name just yet)...Since I have not read the manga(anime-only for now) so I just got a vague impression of what Gojou has been through, but that does not stop me from writing him like the cocky bastard he is. Hopefully it is not too OOC(as if yandere variant itself is not OOC enough pfttt) The reader is a stubborn psycho because that is what I am :) Will there be some future pieces that involves nsfw elements? I got a few ideas but no promises.

I blame @popi-the-fatui for my Gojou brainrots. You got your revenge on me by making me attracted to this dubious man. Word count: 1.6k

Banner credit

Warnings: Female pronouns, Possessive behaviour, DELUSIONAL behaviour, non-consensual touching, power inbalance, general yandere content, slight mention of confinement and violence(This is not a healthy relationship dynamic!!!), reader is not a soft UWU girl, kthis is so self indulgent *buries myself into the bottomless pit of shame

It has been nearly fifteen minutes since the headquarter disconnected the call, yet you are still staring at your phone screen with disbelief.

You were supposed to travel to another city for a mission tomorrow, they had notified you of this mission a week ago.

You already got your luggage packed, and your theoretical research on the objective is thoroughly done. Then they dare to inform you: they have found a more suitable candidate! Right on the day before your departure too.

Your curse techniques have already limited you to more of a supporting role for most situations. There are not plenty of missions available for you to begin with. While you are content with educating the fresh blood of the community in classrooms the majority of the time, you still long for field actions every once in a while. It is an essential part of being a Jujutsu sorcerer after all.

Both you and the soft-spoken secretary who made the call know this is nonsense. The higher-ups recognize that you are one of, if not the best sorcerers available when it comes to reconnaissance and espionage.

Letting out a sigh of immeasurable frustration, you swore to yourself that you will find out who is the conductor of this humiliating turn of events. This is going to be difficult since you do not recall having any issues with any of the administration staff recently.

There is no reversing this misfortune, but at least you can be aware of who is responsible for such violation of conduct.

He is only doing this to protect you.

Gojou Satoru tells himself as such, at least.

He is aware of how unfair it is, to make someone less capable to take on the job. But he cannot risk your safety. The man has already got used to your company, and he is not willing to just let you disappear from his field of view for more than a week. Sure, you might have not admitted how much you like him yet, but it is just too endearing to see you flustered at his flirtatious words.

Although there have been some difficulties with rescheduling, he managed to use his connections to exclude you from that first-grade mission at last minute. On the bright side, the sorcerer cannot wait to lend you an ear to vent about how conservative and unfair the higher-ups can be. Maybe you will even say yes to a trip to the newest local bakery! You need some sweet treats to cheer yourself up, don’t you?

But Satoru has never thought about how you specialize in putting two and two together. (understandable since he never saw you in action before).

------------------

Strange, you are not near the usual area in the library.

Sensing his footsteps, you opened your office door before Satoru had a chance to knock.

“We need to talk, Gojou-san.” That expression is new. This is the first time he sees you genuinely angry, which is to be expected.

But somehow he got a bad feeling about this.

You did not even invite him to sit down, instead just standing next to the floor window, arm crossed, with your back turned to him.

“Why would you do such a thing?” You have to use up all of your self-control to prevent yourself from having a full blow-up right at Gojou Satoru. Maintain composure. But it is easier said then done.

Does he think this is funny? To sabotage someone else's sorcerer career like this? You knew you should have kept him out of your daily life, as he is nothing but trouble to you. But you made the mistake of choosing to tolerate him, and some superficial part of you might even enjoy his dallying words a bit too much.

To the extent, you overlooked some red flags. This is a grievous error indeed.

Shit, now that he vaguely remembers what role you play on missions.“(y/n)-chan, what are you saying-” He knows you always act in supporting positions, however, he has overlooked your actual abilities and curse techniques. You collect intel and spy on enemies, how could he forget that? “Don’t play dumb with me. You got your ways, I got mine. There is no use denying what you have done. I thought you out of all people would understand what it means to be a sorcerer.”

This is a violation of protocol, changing mission assignments at the last minute. However, you know this man would not be receiving any solid punishment should you decide to report this. They would say there is “no harm done” and you would just receive a pitiful apology. Suppose you cannot blame them though.

They need Gojou Satoru, the Jujutsu community needs his prowess to keep innocent people safe. He will remain in the system no matter what.

Why are you questioning his motives? Does he have to spell it out for you? Letter by letter?

“You are not a skilled combatant, (y/n)-chan. What if you got yourself hurt?” Or even worse, killed. It scares him to think that you could be gone one day, how he would walk by this office corridor and never sees you sitting behind the desk ever again.

Not much in this world could send Gojou Satoru a chill down his spine, yet the thought of you dying is now on the list. He knows how petty this is, you wouldn’t be the one doing the actual exorcising after all. But the if, the slight possibilty.

He cannot allow that to happen, not ever. Even that means angering you and getting yelled at.

“What am I, some normal lawful citizen? I am a sorcerer just like you, Gojou-san. Putting ourselves on the line for innocents is part of the deal.” You let out a few short, sarcastic giggles, narrowing your eyes at him with fury. “It’s funny that you, out of all people, fail to understand that. If I am needed I will do what I must. If this is some sort of sick joke, stop it already, not funny. ”

Blunt, unrelenting stubbornness. Not like that’s news for him, Satoru has lots of experience with that since the day your path crossed. Although he finds this quality to be adorable most of the time, it can pose major problems like the present.

Oh, he is not angry at you. Satoru is more outraged at himself, don’t you worry. On the contrary, he is rather intrigued by your sarcastic remarks! However…

Instead of walking towards where you stood near the window, the man decides to take a turn towards the door.

That flashing panic within your eyes did not escape his sight.

The illusion figure you were projecting near the window dissipated instantly once he got your left wrist in his hand. Concealing yourself and projecting illusions, a rare techique indeed.

“Clever tactic. Making yourself invisible, projecting a faux illusion to distract me, leaving the door open and staying close to the exit. Your curse techniques are impressive. I almost got fooled, job well-done (y/n)-chan.”

The grip on your wrist suddenly tightens, you have to bite your lip to hold back a hiss of pain. How can he still flash that casual, playful smile when committing such atrocity? Those damned cerulean blue eyes too, you are ashamed of how you tremble and (internally) swoon at it at the same time.

Efforts to get away would most likely be futile, but you have to try. “See, you underestimated your opponent. I do see why you are good with lurking in the shadows now. Do you have any idea what I am capable of though?” Such delicate hands, it would be a shame if they were to bruise.

It’s unnerving how easy it looks for him to maintain a solid grip on your wrist while you pull back with all of your might. You know Gojou Satoru is strong and all, but this simple demonstration of strength is devastatingly effective. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

To your surprise, he softens his grip and you finally distanced yourself from him, panting and guarded. “Who are you to decide what I should and what I should not do? I made it crystal clear on the first day that I do not like you for the slightest.”

You know the walls are thin and coworkers might heard you, but you will have to worry about it later. It is, sadly, a matter of fact that you are somehow attracted to him, but that does not give him the right to use it against you. You must not give in to the temptation.

“You are pretty slow on the uptake for someone so smart. I was thinking of doing this naturally, we can go on normal dates to coffee shops, amusement parks, or even the museum if that is what you wish for. But now I see you do not know how much you mean to me.” Do you think Gojou-san is only flirting with you for the fun of it? It might have been the case in the beginning, but that is not the case since...recently.

He did not stop you again when you turned away, giving him one last menacing look and disappeared from his sight, even if he could see the faint trace of your curse energy. You will return to him and apologize after you calm down, he is confident about that. You value your job way too much to quit.

Then he could finally pull you into his arms, saying he does not mind and forgive your childish tantrums. Satoru does not plan to lock you up in a cage or anything(yet)! The students adore you and they need your guidance. Your clan is insignificant compared to his, your influence? Does he even need to consider that?

Gojou Satoru would always achieve his goals by whatever means possible. You are no exception to this.

#yandere fanfiction #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojou satoru #yandere x you #yandere gojou satoru x you #*screams into the sea of Quanta #I was a clown when I said I won't simp for him #tw: dark content #tw: yandere

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

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I really enjoyed your writing on the ADA members with a younger sibling like partner <33 I was wondering if you could write the same scenario but with Chuuya and Fyodor? Except the younger partner in question has a rough past and cheery/joking personality similar to Dazai(?) I'm super excited to see more of your writing!! c:

Hi anon! Thank you for the compliment and for reading (here’s the scenario for those that want to read it)! The only difference is that instead of this reader being pure, they’re going to be like a mini Dazai (or at least similar to him). One change that I did make was that Reader isn’t as suicidal as Dazai (ie. constantly trying to find a way to end their life), but Reader is ready to go whenever and wherever, whether it’s on their terms or not. Reader is gender neutral and hope you enjoy!

Also ayyyeeee my first time writing for Fyodor! Hope I did him justice cause his part took a while lol

TW: Mentions of suicide, dark moments (Reader is a bit sadistic, but nothing graphic is mentioned) small spoilers for Dark Era arc and Season 3

Acting as a Younger Sibling with a Rough Past and Personality Similar to Dazai with: Chuuya and Fyodor

Chuuya

Well he was extremely disturbed to say the least. Okay extremely may be over exaggerating, but the way you acted got underneath his skin bad

You reminded him too much of Dazai, minus the suicide attempts and the animosity towards him. Although that didn’t stop the morbid jokes from happening

“Hey Chu-Chu, what did the librarian say to the guy that wanted to check out a book on how to commit suicide?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!-“

“Go away, you’re not going to bring it back. HA! A knee slapper, am I right?”

He wondered if Dazai got to you first like he did Akutagawa, and if he did, that was just another reason to strangle him

You were his partner, and you were young. So seeing the way you interacted with everyone and everything with such a pessimistic attitude while still being cheery was alarming

Not to mention how easy it is for you to just readily accept death at every turn. You’re the literal embodiment of “guess I’ll die” and it drives Chuuya up the wall every time

He remembers the one time an enemy held you hostage how you were so cheerful to finally be rid of this joke you called a life, and that you told the guy who was holding a gun to your head to “put it between the eyes, it looks 10x better that way.” And “don’t be afraid to blow my brains out either! But you do you, but I think it’s a rather stylistic choice if I do say so myself.”

The man thought you were trying to distract him at first, but when he figured out that you were serious he honestly got so nervous he was ready to just let you go and suggest therapy lmao

After he handled the situation, he took you directly under his wing. Sure, you were already his partner, but he was really going to look out for you including outside of work. If it meant that he had to “babysit” you, then oh well

Plus he didn’t want to face Mori if he just let you die while under his care

You realized what he was trying to do when you two would go off to “collect information” and would be doing the complete opposite. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry, let’s take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought we had to get this info back to Mori ASAP. Not that I care if he’s mad, he’s been holding out on me and this is the perfect way to take revenge.”

“Holding out how?”

“I told him that since he’s a doctor he would be the perfect teacher to show me some new techniques.”

“...on?”

“Torturing, duh! My methods are getting kinda stale, and I do want to perfect my craft after all. I want to be good at something before I kick the bucket, Chu.”

Poor man is honestly in so much distress because of you please help him

And the way you interacted with the other members was both entertaining and horrifying to watch at times. Majority of the time, you were this happy go lucky kid with a dark sense of humor (you still made people smile, although sometimes it was tense or apprehensive, but whatever a smile is still a smile). But when you were having a bad day or a mission was going wrong, everyone knew to steer clear of you.

A new recruit tried to cheer you up one day, telling you that “it could always be worse”. You then got pulled into the office with a very angry Chuuya and a mildly disappointed Mori.

Chuuya finally had enough after months of this occurred. It was like a never ending cycle: except your behavior was getting increasingly more reckless and dangerous. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out why you were this way and if it was any way to snap you out of it

He wasn’t a stranger to death, he’s seen it with his own two eyes, end even killed people with his bare hands. But the huge difference between you two is that he didn’t particularly enjoy killing, if it had to be done then he had no problems doing so; it comes with the job y’know? But with you, you took actual pleasure in killing. It filled you with a sick sense of glee, and it even made his stomach turn

The bond between you two grew from just a typical work relationship (as far as working in the mafia goes). He knew that from underneath your rather concerning persona, you were just troubled. Someone or something made you this way, and while he had his own troubles growing up, he was able to deal with it and overcome his issues. It just seemed like you just...gave in to yours. And it made him feel pity for you.

You didn’t mind Chuuya at all. You actually liked being his partner! He was pretty much the only person that you didn’t feel a need to harm or kill. And he was fun to be around, when he wasn’t being such a party pooper (I mean what’s the point of being in the mafia when you can’t purposely spill some blood every now and then for fun?). The only thing you didn’t like was how he would try and get you to talk about your past. You honestly didn’t see a point in it, it’s called the past for a reason, why didn’t he understand that?!

But no matter how many times you would shut down or try to change the subject, he would always try again, and again, and again. It was very annoying. And you didn’t like to talk about it. Why didn’t Chuuya understand that?!

Eventually, his pestering worked. One day after a rough mission when he had to patch you up, you opened up to him. You didn’t immediately tell him everything, but you gave him small insights to what happened, to what lead you to be this way

You could tell that he was grateful that he was finally getting somewhere with you. And you yourself was surprised that your dynamic didn’t change. He didn’t look at you with sympathy in his eyes, he didn’t baby you, he wasn’t disgusted by you, everything was normal. The only difference is that Chuuya told you that it was okay to talk to him, and that you shouldn’t be scared to approach him (psh you scared, yeah okay)

Chuuya felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders once you opened up. You were still a bit sadistic (but you did tone it back after the recruit incident, and after you saw how repulsed he looked, so you just did everything behind closed doors now) and had your cheery persona on, but it felt a little bit more real now. It felt genuine. It gave him a good feeling to see some spark in your eyes instead of the full he felt himself getting used to. And he would never say it to you, but it also gave him a warm feeling with him being your role model (you knew but didn’t want to burst his bubble yet)

Your change wasn’t very noticeable at first, but that’s okay. No one needed to know, it was fine with just you and Chuuya. You still felt the desire to just be done with life, but it wasn’t your focus whenever you were with him. You hadn’t made peace with your past yet, but you felt you could one day with him by your side. He was someone that you didn’t knew you needed (or wanted to admit to), but it worked out in the end. You had doubts that you could or would ever change, but if you did, growing to be someone like Chuuya would’nt be the worst possible outcome

Plus, whenever he did run into Dazai with his new sidekick, he is 10000% bragging about how much better and cooler you are, with him being the superior between them both. He can’t WAIT till you guys can whoop their ass

Fyodor

Well weren’t you such an interesting character

To see someone as young as you ready to just leave this world in an abrupt way was intriguing, and he realized that he could use this to his advantage. Maybe even give you something to gain in exchange

He found you hiding inside a disgusting abandoned building (a fitting place for a rat if he would say so himself), drenched in blood. Fyodor didn’t necessarily care why, but he was curious about one thing: why were you smiling? Your eyes were so lifeless, yet here you were smiling so bright, as if you weren’t covered in someone’s blood

Fyodor found himself smiling down at you. Did you think he was prey, that he was going to be your next target? He wanted you to try, he wanted to see what you were really capable of

“Tell me, what is going to be your next move? Do you wish to attack me?”

“If you do something that I don’t like, then yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here Mister? You wanna have some fun too?”, your smile turned into a smirk, twirling your very sharp knife in your hand. “You’re not even from here, so why are you trying to bother such an innocent kid like me?”

He matched your smirk, “You are from innocent, child, even a blind man can see that. To see just how full of sin you are. This wasn’t your first atrocity that you committed nor would it be your last. Which is a shame, it might be too late for me to cleanse you of your filth.”

Oh, he was going to be very amusing to mess with. But you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t right with this man. No one would walk up to someone with copious amounts of blood on them, holding a weapon that caused said blood, while berating them about being “full of sin”. What was his ability? Did he have people with him? Was the building surrounded or booby trapped? These questions swirled around your head, all while he just kept smirking at you. He was pissing you off, who the hell did he think he was?

But you kept your anger at bay, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “Sin? Cleanse me of my filth? I guess I do kinda stink but who exactly do you think you are, some type of God?”

“That’s exactly what I am. I’m here to free this world from this wretched curse that has been brought upon.”

...huh? Did-did he escape from the asylum or something? Did he seriously believe himself to be a God (not even a prophet but an actual God)? Seeing your confusion, he continued on, “The curse of ability users. They plague this Earth, and they need to be eliminated.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with having abilities? Hellooooo, some people’s abilities are actually pretty cool! If you just have a terrible ability, it’s your problem, not the world-“

“Why not let me show you why it’s indeed a curse?”

“And how would you do that? You must be crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I may be dangerous but I’m not dumb!”

“You poor, misguided soul.”, he tutted at you. “Look at where you have ended up at. These people with these so called “cool abilities” have failed you, have they not? Yet you still idolize them, not believing that they are the reason for your misfortunes. If they were truly your idols, they wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself, to live among the rats. They left you to rot, do you not see that?”

He was hitting too close to home, he was getting too personal, too close. He didn’t know you at all, you’re a complete stranger to him, but why did his words hold some truth to them?

“Come with me, and I will prove to you first hand why this has to be done.”, he was now physically close to you, staring you deep into your eyes. “It would be such a waste for you to die without knowing the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”

You didn’t have much, he wasn’t wrong. But if he could take you somewhere with real food and not scraps you had to fight to find, and to have real shelter, then fine. You agreed. And if you felt that something was up, you’ll just kill him, run away, or both

After he took you away, he kept to his word. It seemed like he was really was telling the truth, you getting first-hand experience like he promised. It was scary that he was right, but you were also indebted to him. He not only allowed you to live in luxury (at least it was luxury to you considering what you had before), but he opened your eyes to what the true problem is. He gave your life a new purpose. If you two were able to successfully complete his goal, then your problems would be gone forever right? You would finally be able to feel a sense of peace, and you can’t wait till that could happen

You and Fyodor, after he opened your eyes, bonded easier than in the beginning. You were smart enough to not fully trust him after leaving with him, but after just a couple of pulled strings to cause certain things to happen, you slowly melted and molded into the way that he planned. You would be an excellent pawn in his grand plan, and you would do well in keeping him entertained at the same time

You were a joyful child, even when carrying out his dirty work, you did so gleefully. After joining the Rats in the House of the Dead, you tried to spread that joy among the other members. They didn’t find it very amusing, but you didn’t care and neither did Fyodor. You were far too important to let go of now

You were always by him, it seemed. Always in the same space, whether he was planning his next move, and playing the cello, you were always there with this look of awe directed at him. Every time he would catch you staring, he would simply chuckle and softly reprimand you about, “how rude it is to stare, but you simply can’t help it.”

He even taught you how to play the cello!

You sounded terrible but practice makes perfect

As time went on and the end goal seeming to be closing in, he came to see you as more than just an expendable tool. He found out about your past, but simply proved to you once again why you two had to make sure the curse was ridden as soon as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened to you to happen to anyone else, so the mission had to be success. Failure was not an option

Fyodor didn’t see himself as a cruel man towards you. He just didn’t mince his words and he made sure that you were dealing with the truth, and not some lie that was attempted to be twisted as reality. If anything, that was the way that he showed that he held some compassion for you, he wasn’t willing to let you be lead astray from the truth again, not while he was here. You had somehow wiggled your way into his mind, where he had been accepting of your close bond, and he took that into consideration

Once his goal is achieved and he has truly made his place known as a God, he’ll make sure that you gain your rightful place among him as well. You were worthy in Fyodor’s eyes, and as long as nothing came in between your bond and the end goal, then everything will work out. He will make sure of that.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd reader insert #bsd headcanons #bsd chuuya x reader #chuya x reader #bsd fyodor x reader #fyodor x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd

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anxiouslyfred · 4 years

Text

Ear Defenders

Summary: Since his parents kicked him out Remus has feared being rejected by his soulmate, despite anything Roman or his soulmate can say. After all, what else could follow words like "Dudes, if you were any louder I'd be putting my ear defenders on just to get past.”

AN: I don’t think there’s any warnings needed beyond food mentions, but let me know and I’ll try to remember.

Ships: Dukexiety, background Roceit

/\/\/\/\

Remus had faced rejection all his life. His fascination with injuries was morbid and obsession with butts disgusting; He'd heard it all. Sometimes people would claim it was to do with personal hygiene or the insane attention seeking he did, but Remus was never seeking attention, just doing the things he thought would bring joy in the moment.

For years it was fine that people left him behind. He could make new friends and would someday meet his soulmate who put the words on his wrist from their first future meeting. The universe had promised him he wouldn't see everyone leave. Even Roman believed in that, no matter how much they argued about his inability to quietly fit in at school.

Then their parents kicked him out the day he turned twenty with parting words harsh enough to shake his faith to the core. “You're so immature we doubt even your soulmate will stick around beyond your first words.” The yelling and arguments Roman came out with then and would lecture about anytime the day came up ever after couldn't stop his fear of being rejected forming, but at least it sustained the confidence to be himself that Remus had always carried and for a month tried to ignore and suppress.

With each friend he lost and co-worker who ignored him, Remus's fear grew, after all if these people who didn't have such a lifetime connection didn't give him a chance for 5 minutes why would someone whose first words would be complaining about the noise do so?

Roman did stick around, insisting on it and joining in with some of Remus's ideas. Occasionally he, or his soulmate when they met, would try to tame them enough to be safer but it felt like an empty comfort to have peace with the brother he used to war with. Despite all of Roman's and Janus's attempts they couldn't return the faith lost about his soulmates abandonment. No fairy-tales or classic novels could help someone so isolated from the world he only had two people to talk to most of the time.

/\/\

It was on one of the days that Remus had been dragged away from his work and his rubbish that he found hope again. The litter picker had been locked away by Janus while Roman distracted him so he couldn't start working while they were out. He was still wondering about changing jobs and just keeping the rubbish collection as a hobby; Surely he could be loud on a building site.

The thought was pushed aside by Roman starting to sing Beauty and the Beast. Of course Remus had to improve the lyrics then, nobody needed to hear something so saccharine as that.

“Dudes, if you were any louder I'd be putting my ear defenders on just to get past.” The words cut through everything, freezing Remus in place as he registered the building site next to where they were passing and a guy leaving it watching them. The biggest realisation though was that he'd just heard the words from his wrist spoken aloud and the person's expression wasn't happy.

He was on the verge of tears before he could remember how to speak again. “Please stay long enough to talk. I can be quiet I swear. I think you're my soul.”

Peripherally he could see Janus stopping Roman from speaking, but all his fears rested on the face of alarm and concern now directed at him. “I've got an hours lunch break, but if you give me your number we could carry on texting after that and meet up later?” The words seemed carefully chosen, possibly rehearsed, but they were enough to make Remus want to leap up the walls. “And you don't need to be quiet, Dude. Noise is pretty good generally.”

“Really? But only – Nobody – Everyone -” There was so many things Remus wanted to say all at once but he couldn't get any of them out, tears beginning to fall in the sudden rush of hope.

A tissue being shoved into his hand reminded him of his brothers presence. “I think what Remus is trying to say is aside from Janus and I most people do leave him so thank you for giving him the chance.” Roman attempted to interpret, not entirely successful but close enough.

“We don't need a chaperone, thanks. I deal with my own anxiety enough to be patient with someone else's.” Remus's soulmate snarked back, now holding a hand towards him. “And something to eat generally helps after a whirlwind of emotions, if you'd like yo join me?”

Of course Remus took the hand, overjoyed to be led away. “I'm Remus, He/him. Who are you, My Soul?”

“Virgil, he/him, and do you need some breathing exercises? You've been like swapping from not breathing to hyperventilating since I spoke.” The offer and raised eyebrow glance assessing him made Remus realise just how fast he was breathing.

“Please.” He'd been pulled into a sandwich shop now but Virgil ignored the guy hurrying behind the counter to sit Remus down and help him.

It took a few minutes before his breathing calmed and the bouncing from excitement began. “Can I buy you lunch, Virgie?” He offered, glancing for a way to stay with his soulmate as long as he could.

Being answered with a head-shake dampened his hopes to be helpful though, until Virgil spoke, “Only if you can promise me this isn't part of you trying to behave so I'll stay. Whomever Remus is beyond your fears is who I want to know and I'm happy to wait and reassure until you're comfortable to show him to me. I'm staying; no need to try and earn that.”

Remus gasped at the sincerity and comfort being so freely offered, before actually pausing to think. “I was gonna buy my bro and Janjan lunch today anyway. Lot more fun to buy my soul his even if I can't sabotage it.”

“Then I'll have a hot chocolate with a ham and cheese baguette.” Virgil relaxed back into his seat, finally letting go of Remus's hands though he couldn't say when they'd been taken. Remus had to grin at the snickers he got from walking backwards to the counter.

Virgil was still snickering when he came back with their drinks and this time nothing slightly odd had been done consciously to cause it. “I've not got froth on my nose yet. What's so funny?”

“Re, what on earth did you order to make Sunglasses look so horrified?”

“I wanted as many espresso shots as possible so I can fight the universe and 2 of the most sugary, e-number filled thing they sell so we can get sugar rushes too!” Remus nodded, certain it made sense as he swapped the way the drinks were placed down 9 times before deciding he'd got it right.

Virgil watched the move with a still amused smirk before shrugging. “I'm the first aider for my site so I can patch you up afterwards.” He said, sending electric shocks of relief flinging themselves through Remus. “But other than fighting galactic entities and shocking servers what do you do?”

Most people on the Cities Cleansing team would insist on using their actual job title, saying it sounded more professional, others just stayed down to earth and called a spade a spade; then there was Remus is his own league, “I steal people's rubbish and make treasures out of it all, sometimes hidden safely at the dump!”

“Sounds like you're more than equipped to fight gods then. How would you describe being a builder?” Remus had expected disgust or dismissal but was met with a small smile and curiosity. He had to tap his knee harder to get the happy energy out somehow.

“Committing atrocities against natural habitats or giving purpose to the city areas people look away from. Depends if you work on inner city used sites or areas out taking over farmland.”

Even Janus disliked his descriptions of the jobs people claimed as vital, but Virgil just snorted, nodding along. “Too right. The rich man says build here and people just wanting to survive the month have to follow. I do try to avoid the areas building on new land when I can at least.” Virgil broke off, looking around as though wanting something else to say, before frowning. “No fighting the capitalist regime alone though. One person is too easy for companies to disappear. Best to talk people into unions and protests instead.”

Remus couldn't help but cackle at the remark. After all the years of rejection it was impossible to believe Virgil was real, actually feeding into his ideas and encouraging him. “You're really not going to leave me? I can have your number?” The thought spilt out as soon as he thought over how happy this hour was for him.

“If you give me your phone I can add my number to it now and you already know where I work for the next months if you just want to appear randomly.” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table. “We could do lunch dates as long as you're okay just sitting by the fountain since I usually bring a packed lunch. I just wasn't awake enough to make it this morning.”

The hour disappeared from them far too quickly, with Remus cackling through it almost more than speaking. Even as they walked back to Virgil's building site they were talking and getting to know each other, only just spotting Roman and Janus approaching from the opposite direction.

Remus ignored them through their farewells and after, standing watching the entrance shut before opening his phone to just stare are the new contact added. “He's staying.” Remus wasn't one for reverence but his voice in that moment was filled with it.

“He's your soulmate.” Roman stated, smiling. There was a relief in Roman's voice that for years Remus would call out given how certain his brother had acted that soulmates don't leave.

“He doesn't even care about the taste combinations I love! Or even my ideas and ways of describing everything!” He threw himself between Janus and Roman, grabbing their hands and recounting absolutely every detail of Virgil from the last hour. At least they'd stop him from breaking in anywhere.

The hand holding didn't last long when he heard a text alert.

'Got tickets to a friends concert on Friday. You coming?'

The world could leave Remus behind but with his soulmate inviting him on a date that was fine with him.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #soulmate au #hurt/ comfort #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #roceit

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

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Runeterra Retcons 9: Shaco

The time has come to discuss League’s resident killer clown… Or killer jester, I suppose. There is a difference, not that it really matters because even the lore doesn’t ACTUALLY know what Shaco is. To be frank, Shaco is a weird character because he’s NEVER had a proper place in the story, even from his conception.

Shaco’s original lore paints him as a complete and utter mystery. Nobody knows who or what he is, where he came from, or what he really wants. All anyone has ever known is that Shaco loves killing people because he thinks it’s funny. He could be a demon, a rogue weapon, or just a homicidal madman who’s really good at what he loves. That’s where his character begins and ends, so there’s really not much to actually analyze here. Shaco’s second lore attempts to give us a little more detail but all it really does is say the exact same thing with more words added in.

Of course, Shaco’s first two lores were written at a time with the Institute of War and Summoners were still canon, so after the retcon back in 2015 Riot opted to give him a new backstory to make him fit in with the new world of Runeterra. That backstory, as we can see, is ultimately little more than a placeholder. I mean, his extended bio doesn’t even match the blurb on his Champion page!

In summation: Shaco is a haunted doll who belonged to an unknown prince of an unknown kingdom and was transformed by unknown magics for unknown reasons. This backstory now feels especially redundant with the introduction of Gwen into the game, a living doll with a similar backstory albeit far less evil. To be frank: there’d be room to have some interest thematic parallels between Gwen and Shaco if Riot had written these two in such a way that they were creations of the same person or belonged to the same kid but wound up becoming wholly opposite of one-another.

For example: perhaps in an alternate version of the lore, Gwen comes to embody the childlike innocence and hope of her maker/owner and seeks to spread joy and cheer while Shaco is a corrupt and perverted manifestation of those desires who seeks only to amuse himself in the suffering of others. This, I think, would have been a fantastic way to go about it, but given that Gwen is already so heavily tied to the Shadow Isles plotline and Viego is set up to be her primary enemy, I feel like it would be kind of difficult to work Shaco into that dynamic at this point.

Besides, it’s clear that Riot DOES have plans for Shaco: namely, that they aim to retcon him into being a demon. This is somewhat evident by his champion title, the Demon Jester, as well as his relationships are listed as being Nocturne and Fiddlesticks, the demons of nightmares and fear, respectively. There’s also that branch on the demon family tree labeled “Delirium” which would fit a murderous jokester pretty well.

To be honest, I was initially hesitant to even bother doing an episode for Shaco given that Riot clearly has at least some vague idea of what to do with him, but since reworks are coming out a lot slower now and Shaco’s not even on Riot’s priority list as far as we’re aware, it’ll probably be a WHILE before we actually see them do anything with this particular concept.

So, given what we know about Riot’s current plans, the general direction of this rewrite is simple: make Shaco a demon. Admittedly, though, that’s a little easier said than done. Demons in League are creatures who feed on mortal pain and suffering, but each of them has a different way of going about it. Fiddlesticks mainly uses paranoia and trauma to drive his victims mad while Nocturne takes a more Freddy Krueger approach of just invading dreams and turning them into nightmares. Tahm Kench likes to make Faustian Bargains by giving you everything you want and then tearing it all away from you, while Evelynn lures you in with seduction and then proceeds to tear you apart piece by piece.

Every demon takes a different form and has different ways of going about things, but all of them share a core concept: they feed on suffering and misery, be it physical or emotional. That said, there’s a bit more to demons in Runeterra than just that. See, back when Fiddlesticks was released, Riot went and released what the community has dubbed the “Demon Family Tree,” which appears to be a chart displaying the hierarchy of demons and different emotions that different kinds of demons can prey on.

Now, admittedly, there’s a LOT about this chart that we don’t currently understand, and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if Riot doesn’t either. There’s a key that resembles the one around Zoe’s neck in the top-left, a bunch of circles in the top right we don’t know the meaning of, and a whole bunch of text written in what I think is supposed to be Old Noxian that we can’t currently decipher. There have been theories and discussions about this already, so I’m not going to get too deep into it, but the main takeaway, I think, would be the words on the chart that we CAN read: Fear, Delirium, Nightmares, Secrets, Bliss, Frenzy, and Obsession. There’s also the term “Azakana” at the bottom, though we know thanks to Yone that this basically just refers to a demon that hasn’t fully matured yet.

Tying the chart back to the demonic Champions in the game, it’s easy to piece together the connections that they each have: Fiddlesticks is fear, Nocturne is Nightmares, Raum (the demon bound to Swain) is Secrets, Evelynn is commonly believed to be Bliss, and Tahm Kench is most likely Obsession. That leaves Delirium and Frenzy untouched, which leaves us with two spots to fit Shaco into.

Now comes the hard part: the decision. Delirium refers to a state of mind in which one’s awareness of their actions or environment is significantly reduced, whereas frenzy is a sudden burst of frantic, uncontrolled emotion, typically rage or aggression. Either one of these could work well for a killer jester, but I personally think that delirium would suit Shaco better in terms of how his personality is portrayed in game. So, with that said, let’s dive deep into the realm of demonic and see what can be done to turn this cursed puppet into a proper Demon of Delirium.

It is often said that misery and comedy are but two sides of the same coin. Laughter often comes at the expense of others, and one person’s despair may be another’s delight. Most entertainers would tell you that walking the line between humor and malice is key, but to Shaco, such distinctions are a joke for which he himself is the final punchline.

The demon known as Shaco has stalked Runeterra for ages, spreading his twisted influence far and wide. There’s nothing Shaco loves more than to bring joy to those who need it most, often appearing to mortals who have experienced great loss or tragedy. Those coping with grief or misfortune may find themselves unexpectedly visited by a grinning jester, who assures that his only desire is to take away their pain with the power of laughter.

At first, Shaco’s antics are innocent enough. Some cheesy jokes to lighten the mood, some harmless pranks to lift the spirits of the downtrodden, all with an unyielding smile that one cannot help but start to imitate. Soon, those enthralled with Shaco’s antics are invited to play games with the jester to help distract from their worldly worries. Those who accept are whisked away to partake in a day of fun and merriment, playing all manner of pranks on friends, family, and even innocent bystanders.

When the games end, Shaco leaves his playmates cackling insanely in the aftermath, often surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. None laugh louder than Shaco, however, who delights in watching his playmates slowly regain their sanity and come to realize all the atrocities committed at his side. Some cry out in despair, while others break down laughing or crying harder than before. Some go mad, others are executed for their crimes, and some even opt to take their own lives. All outcomes are equally hilarious to Shaco, who soon sets out in pursuit of his next playmate.

Stories of the Mad Trickster exist all across Runeterra, often told as children’s tales to teach valuable lessons: don’t trust strangers, never give in to sadness or despair, and always be mindful to never take a joke too far. Few truly believe in Shaco’s existence, but those who fail to heed such warnings may find themselves to be his next playmate, as well as the butt of his joke…

So, this one was a bit shorter than normal, but I think it serves to get the point across. As the embodiment of delirium, I wanted to give Shaco a set-up sort of similar to Tahm Kench: he appears to offer help to those in need, only to end up ruining their lives in the long run. The difference, of course, is that Shaco lures people in to help them forget their troubles with fun and games, only to escalate to full-blown murder and mayhem.

In essence, Shaco drives others to delirium, making them believe the carnage is all just fun and games until his spell is broken and reality sets in. I’d like to think he particularly likes preying on the downtrodden because those who are suffering mental anguish already are easier for him to cast his spell on.

This is just my take on Shaco, though. Who can really say what Riot will do with him in the future? Who knows, his rework might end up even better than what I have here, but of course, anything is bound to be better than his current, non-existent lore.

#Runeterra Retcons #Shaco #League of Legends

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whatudottu · 3 years

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Because I've held this off for too long, once again it seems that @nukeli has beaten me to the punch with colour schemes. Damn my procrastination or whatever, but I only just realised that I didn't put any mention of the 'fodder' classes (Vehicons, Insecticons and I suppose Autotroopers since I'm including them) and wanted to put down my thoughts before writing this up.

An added bonus here is that certain character have different alts (based on character changes and even the heavier focus of 'robots in disguise' that these Decepticons are after) so it's not just me ranting about colour schemes.

Yes, this was why I was complaining about the wiki altmodes, so deal with the vehicles I found instead. May or may not be due to me using images as references haha.

The Autobots (you are here)

The Decepticons Part 1

The Decepticons Part 2

Going in order of my notes, we begin with Cliffjumper. He’s obviously a 1970 Dodge Challenger and what colours I’ve given him are on the image below. Nothing much to say about a definitely dead character other than I didn’t just wanna make him blue.

Next on the list is good old Doctor Ratchet. I’ve had it in my mind ever since Nuke’s one post that SG!Ratchet was like Medic from TF2, so I guess I took it and ran.

To play an opposite to regular Ratchet, he comes across as affable and friendly but is really just doing the things he loves to people he hates. Autobots, Decepticons, hates everyone. He despises Optimus Prime too, but he can’t do anything unless he wants to be cooped up in his berthroom reattaching his limbs for it. Believe him, he tried.

As for altmode and colours, I spent way too long finding that he resembles a Mercedes Benz G-Class ambulance that I was ticked to find out he wasn’t at all. I special looked for the green coloured ambulance because Synth-En, duh!

Breaking in after the Doctor comes our local wrecker Bulkhead. I don’t have much of a read on this guy, other than the fact that I thought it’d be a cool idea for him to lose a lot of his memories after ‘TMI’, ya know, from the Synth-En recipe? Certainly not set in stone, but it could very well contribute to my accidental theme of memory (which only has some small links in the posts I actually created).

With the help of my car enthused cousin I have given our not so loveable mech a Terradyne Gurkha, a little more military than the wiki’s off-roader Lamborghini that I’m too annoyed to bother to look at. I thought that the military origins and the black colour scheme sorta allude to something something mindless military man. yada yada.

Following him is our ever wonderful Optimus Prime, or maybe Lord Prime? Haven’t thought too much about that. What I have thought of is this master manipulator who mayhaps also be a little bit delusional idk we’ll decide in the car.

I always loved the idea of a smiling SG!Prime, as if there’s still hints of this benevolent leader that the original has, but it’s warped and meant to add fodder to the war, encouraging mechs to fight to their deaths all in the name of not only the Autobots, but their Prime. Also as a warped version of the original, I wanted Shattered Glass Optimus to be deluded in the fact that Megatron will change, change at least, to submit to the real leader. Ain’t happening. That’s sorta there with Ratchet too, but well, you read Ratchet’s piece didn’t you?

SG!Prime is consistently purple and black, and whilst I have found a Peterbilt Semi Truck with that wonderful colour, it comes with white instead. Think about it, this typically evil colour paired with often innocent white, that’s like perfect for what I’m going for.

Fitting that he’s next, it’s time for Prime’s Second In Command Ultra Magnus. I’ve... really got nothing for him. Maybe he’s still by-the-books but like he finds loopholes just to commit atrocities? I don’t know.

I’ve given this boy a Mack Trident alt instead of Prime’s Peterbilt, just for differences sake.

After Magnus, we got our little bug Bumblebee... or is it. Because I wanted to change his colours a bit without going into Beast Hunter territory, I wondered if bees come in different colours and, low and behold, they do!

As for the boy himself, I think he was one of the bots manipulated by Prime himself to join the cause and, given his almost rewritten personality, has only lived through to this point in the war by sheer luck. This mech is an absolute menace, feral and powered by the need for Prime’s approval, tearing others with denta and servo more often than with stingers and blasters.

Now you’ve noticed I haven’t been using his name? That’s because he’s now Blue Band (I just realised he’s still bb haha)! He gets his name from the Blue Banded bee, and I found a Chevrolet Camaro to match.

In line with BB’s younger status, feast your eyes on Shattered Glass Smokescreen! Oh boy isn’t he a delight. His hero worship has essentially turned him to a prime (pardon the pun) candidate for Optimus to form into his perfect super soldier, who already would die for this deranged mech even before laying optics on this grand Prime.

So, he’s an absolute suck up, a straight up spoiled brat that has it harder than Blue Band for Prime’s acknowledgement, and is actively showing off and bragging that he’s Optimus’ favourite (he’s not, he just encourages it because that’s the easiest way to get Smokey to do what he wants).

Almost to reflect that (perhaps another pun) I found this gaudy Chameleon Chevy Corvette that absolutely SCREAMS show off.

Regrettably partnered up with him after the passing of Cliffjumper, Arcee has run out of patience. Not everything she does is motivated by Airachnid (what kind of character would that be? not a fun one) but she does often enjoy killing those connected with her. After Tailgate, she’s gotten a little mad, but her effectiveness otherwise increased so others never bothered to ‘fix’ her.

Having lost both of her partners, when she absolutely hates another (read; Airachnid and Starscream because he still kills Cliff) the best kind of revenge is putting her opponents in her own pedes. Oh, that mech’s growing attached to one of his comrades? Slice and dice them before their optics. Oh, that femme is finally coming out of her shell and making friends? Gore out their spark and hope that humans don’t decide this would be the perfect time to practice what they preach and save the life of that same mech with a hard to perform surgery that may or may not have been lost to time.

Okay so she’s obviously a Kawasaki Ninja (haha that’s kind of fitting) and I was tempted to make her pink like other Arcee iterations, but look at this fancy stuff right here. He hoo glowy look pretty!

Almost in leu of an Airachnid archetype, Wheeljack comes in. Though still quite the wrecker and ever the bomb enthusiast, instead of actively celebrating his impacts and going solo to stop the rust settling in, he’d rather be offed whilst mechs are distracted by his pretty explosion and lay forgotten in the dirt.

I may have accidentally rooted the unintentional memory theme deeply with the wreckers (Breakdown included) and maybe just took it and ran, giving everyone else a little connection, but Wheeljack is probably the most explicit in this idea. He hates nicknames (which i super Ratchet uses to mock him here in Shattered Glass) because that’s like... naming something you’re going to keep to quote that specific fic which, honestly, I can’t remember. Wheeljack split from others to stop them from remembering him and put himself closer to a situation where he can die alone, as morbid as that sounds. No grand death, no stupid death and no straight up suicide (generally that’s a VERY impactful kind of death) so just a mediocre end is what he’s been looking for for a little bit too long.

As for his colours, I apparently have no taste and should not have a car because I really like what this image has going for it. This C3 Corvette is probably one of the few cars that fits the straight up box of a sports car that Jackie’s got, so I’m sticking to it, so no, don’t show me the wiki I’m ignoring it this was too painful to give up dang it!

Okay, finishing off the bots, I have the Autotroopers. Sure, I’m not using a reference of a car to show off the colours, mainly because there’s also going to be flier troopers too, maybe... surely... definitely. Most depictions of them are white, you know, goodie goodie, and I’m tempted to just laze around and do just that. Instead, I think a goldish colour would be fun.

Aside from sharing a key colour with Ultra Magnus, essentially a war lawyer, which is perfect for subjects made to obey, a nice glimmering finish almost feels like they’re all manipulated by Prime to believe in the Autobot cause. I suppose the special devision, if there is one, would be a nice Prime purple, sorta like if it’s Optimus’ personal guard if he actually had any belief they would do their jobs.

Oh boy this is so long...

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bennydwight · 3 years

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Dragon Age Oneshot

Shameless, indulgent, one-sided Varric/Inquisitor, because I understand why we’re not allowed to romance the dwarf, but that’s not gonna stop me from being bitter about it.

(Also feat. Dorian being simultaneously the best and worst wingman)

~~~~~~

"Oh dear what's got the Inquisitor so long in the face this time?"

Lavellan hid her startle well enough that Dorian didn't comment. Maker's breath, he could be stealthy when he wanted to. Observant, too, so she didn’t see much point in lying to him. "I'm in love, Dorian."

She felt more than saw his interest pique, and he slid down the stone wall to join her on the steps. Below them, the courtyard was abuzz with activity: Dennet and his apprentice busied themselves with checking the new stock of mounts, the merchants from Val Royeaux shifted primly as Fereldan soldiers examined their wares, and patients of the last battle milled around the surgeons camp. Among them, even from this height, Lavellan could see Cole's wide-brimmed hat bobbing along through the crowd of wounded like a leaf on a river, likely offering comfort to those who needed it. Varric's copper hair trailed along beside, either gathering intelligence for his next book, or ensuring Cole stayed within the confines of human morality. Nice that those two got along so well.

Far below, a soldier said something and Varric laughed, the delighted rasp floating up to reach even Lavellan's perch. Why must he do that to her.

"In love, you say?" Dorian continued next to her. "Anyone I would know?"

Lavellan sighed. "He's roguishly charming, dashingly handsome, entirely uninterested, and so far out of my league he may as well be the Black Divine."

"Dear me, have you fallen in love with me all over again? Can't say I'm not flattered, though I recall us having this conversation once before."

That drew a laugh from the depths of her lovesickness and she nudged Dorian with a shoulder. "You know the flame I hold for you in my heart will never extinguish."

"Alas, perhaps in another life." He chuckled back. "Who's the fortunate gentleman?"

"Oh please, if you think I'll out and tell you like some babbling maid chasing the butcher's son, I give you too much credit."

He leaned back, stroking his goatee with an interested finger. "Making a game out of it then? Very well, I'll play along. Ten silver says I can guess the lad in three tries."

A game was exactly what Lavellan didn’t want, but she far too much enjoyed Dorian's scowl when he lost not to play. The ten silver could buy her something interesting from the baker too, next time they travelled to Val Royeaux. "You'll be paying for my next pastry run, Vint."

"Better save at least some of that silver for larger clothing then." He made a show of tapping his chin, deep, deep in thought, the flash bastard. "Roguishly charming, daringly handsome... Just to clarify, you are talking about a lad, yes?"

"Oh, no. Making that distinction would narrow the field by far too much. If you weren't paying attention to the pronouns, that's on you."

Dorian glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it while the gears of his mind were ticking elsewhere. "From the description alone, of course my first guess would have to be our distinguished commander? Not that I'd blame you, mind, he is quite the man."

Perhaps too much man for Lavellan, the commander was far too battle-ready for her to find attractive (though admittedly the scars did send something stirring within her). And Cullen's evasive reactions towards the advances of other members of the fairer gender betrayed a disposition more boyish than Lavellan expected. She imagined courting Cullen would be very much like courting the spirit of a farm boy in the body of a marble statue. "I flirted with him once, for fun. I was afraid he'd wet himself."

Dorian's laughter rang warm and clear through the courtyard. "That might explain why you couldn't tell him, the poor man would throw himself off the battlements."

Lavellan stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make it sound like my affections are a disease to be feared."

"They certainly spread that way."

"You enjoy it, you all do. Maker knows none of you under my command have ever gotten enough hugs in your lifetimes."

"Something we all know you're desperately trying to correct."

"This game is timed, Dorian, if you don't use your guesses in the next ten seconds then you forfeit."

"Don't be silly, that was never agreed upon," he waved a hand flippantly, but settled again. "Sera-"

"Nope."

"That wasn't a guess, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Sera is in league all her own, so it can't be her."

"It counts."

"It doesn’t. "

Lavellan never was very good at keeping a straight face, especially in Dorian's presence. "Fine, fine, you get one freebie."

"Then my next guess would have to be the Iron Bull."

Oh, she'd thought about it. Maybe Lavellan was just weak for big hands and a soft voice. And who could forget those muscles? But Iron Bull wasn't exactly secretive about his thoughts on relationships, thoughts Lavellan wasn't sure she could share in the long run. And maybe it would have been different if Iron Bull committed to the Inquisitor, but after an accidental (and awkward) run in with Bull and a kitchen maid, Lavellan was pretty certain she'd seen all she needed to regarding Skyhold's resident Ben-Hassarath.

Besides. She'd seen the silky way Dorian's eyes smoothed over Iron Bull's shoulders when his back was turned. There had never been two people she was less inclined to come between.

She shot Dorian a sly side-eye. "I'll leave the lovesickness to other, more suitable people when it comes to the Bull, I think."

He hid the hitch in his shoulders almost perfectly, but the pink dusting on his cheekbones was a little harder to explain away. To his credit, Dorian didn't try. "Ahem. Well, you mentioned 'uninterested', so it can't be the swooning--"

He trailed off, but Lavellan's sharp stare snapped to him, ears twitching up. "The what?"

"Nothing, a slip of the tongue."

"Your tongue is so slippery it's a wonder it doesn't slither out of your head. Now out with it, who were you talking about?"

Dorian heaved a mighty sigh, but his eyes shone in that way they did when he'd been sitting on a sweet bit of gossip for too long. "Very well, I promised Vivienne I wouldn’t say anything since you didn't need 'undue distractions', but since you insisted. One of your throne guards can't keep his eyes away from you."

This was news to her. "Wha- Are you talking about Davrish or Johannes? Or Tel, he fills in sometimes."

"The lad who usually stands at your left. Human, on the tall side, dark hair. Hard to see much under the helmet, but he's got a scar under his eye."

Davrish then. "He fancies me?"

Dorian laughed. "Like Solas fancies the Fade. He reveres you. Whenever you're in the Main Hall, he refuses to look anywhere else. He practically vibrates when you're judging someone, I imagine since he's never had a woman that close to him in his life. Have you truly not noticed?"

She truly hadn't. She'd spoken to Davrish several times around Skyhold, usually a casual bit of snark tossed around regarding the latest judgement, but never had she gotten the impression that he was interested. Perhaps since, whenever she frequented the Main Hall, her attention lingered elsewhere... "I suppose I'm usually distracted."

Dorian leaned closer, something wicked crawling into his grin like a desert lizard. "Distracted, are you?"

Lavellan huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could still her heart's rapid beat. "I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian, not all of us can lounge in the library all day, drinking cheap ale and commenting on whatever daily atrocity Solas is wearing."

"Oh, that reminds me, did you see the particularly awful armour he picked up during your last trip to the Oasis? I could go on for days about the state of the stitching alone-"

He definitely could, as proven time and again. Times like these, where her Tevinter friend really got on a roll, Lavellan could feign interest well enough while letting her mind wander to more introspective topics. She nodded and made appropriate noises at appropriate times to Dorian's impassioned ramblings, but once again her eyes sought the copper head weaving in and out of view of the crowd below.

As if sensing her seeking eyes, Varric pulled his attention away from Cole and stared straight at her.

Lavellan's heart stuttered to a stop. Even this far away, his eyes shone with the barely concealed mirth he always seemed to carry just under the crooked quirk of his eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled up in that roguish smile she loved as they made eye contact, and one hand (gloved, why always gloved) rose in a lazy wave.

Like a dunderhead, Lavellan practically tripped over herself to return the gesture, nearly catching her finger in one of the buckles of her clothes in the process. Varric didn't seem to notice, his smile widening before he turned back to his odd little charge.

Too late, Lavellan noticed Dorian had fallen silent beside her, his calculating golden eyes boring into her frozen face. She heard the dots connect.

"Oh."

Don’t make eye contact, don't make eye contact

"Oh, MAKER."

Lavellan spun on him, the tips of her ears burning under his scrutiny. "WHAT."

He stared back, expression refreshingly open for once, though it bore no malice. Only stunned disbelief. "Lavellan, the dwarf?"

Not trusting herself to speak around the dry lump lodged in her throat, Lavellan reached into her pocket and dropped ten silver into Dorian's unresponsive hand.

He stared at the coins as if in shock, though Lavellan knew him well enough by now to know when he was exaggerating emotion. Dorian and Sarcasm were old friends. "I can’t- Vishante kaffas."

"I know."

"Of all the available young matches here in Skyhold, you're wasting your time making doe-eyes at the single most ineligible person this side of the Anderfels."

"I know.”

"He's in love with a crossbow, for Maker's sake!"

"I KNOW!" Lavellan groaned, burying her head in her hands. "If you think I haven’t had this discussion with myself numerous times then you are sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Although," Dorian started in such an oddly contemplative tone that Lavellan peeked out from between her fingers. The silver was gone, tucked away while she'd been marinating in her own self-horror, and his hand returned to its previous action of thoughtfully stroking his facial hair. "He is quite the strapping one." His face took on a haughty air. "And we already knew you had a penchant towards the witty."

"Not only wit," Lavellan sighed, and now that her darkest thoughts hovered at the forefront of her tongue, she found it nigh impossible to stop them from stumbling into the light of day. "He's suave, confident in a way that still eludes Cullen. He has all the easy, rugged attractiveness of the Iron Bull with none of his-"

"Expansive tastes?" Dorian supplied, entirely unhelpfully.

"-worldliness." Lavellan corrected coolly.

"He's quite the complainer. "

"He's opinionated, and most of them are right. Varric is warmth, and friendship, and a drop of sunlight in the midst of the rainstorm that is the Breach."

"I may vomit."

"I am taking that as a challenge. He is soft eyes and soft leather, and the feeling you get right after you make someone laugh. He's quiet nights by the fireside, the smell of ink swirling in the warmed air. He is-"

"-headed this way."

Lavellan was just about to admonish Dorian for his unsportsmanlike attempt to distract her from her flowering prose (it had really started to flow there, too!), but a glance downward found Cole nowhere to be seen, and instead one copper-headed dwarf tromping up the stairs.

All thoughts of poetry dissipated. He was coming straight for them! "Oh... oh Maker-"

"Don't panic," Dorian smirked, "with a nose that large, he can probably smell your nerves."

She didn’t have the chance to smack him before Varric reached them, breath laboured in the way that often happened when short legs were presented with more than five steps. Lavellan wondered why Varric chose to spend the majority of his days in the Grand Hall when it required so many steps to get there (and she refused to let herself believe it was because he wanted to be near her, no no). "Well, you two are looking chummy."

"Varric!" Dorian opened with no shortness of theatrics, "We were just talking about you!"

"Is that right?" Lavellan heard more than saw Varric's raised eyebrow as she pinned Dorian under a glare so hot it had been known to stop enemies in their tracks.

Dorian, having evolved out of the category of "enemy" some time ago, barely noticed. "Yes, we were just discussing your romance serial, the one Cassandra enjoys so much? Are you planning on writing more?"

Lavellan’s glare had taken on a panicked note, her friend going rogue before her eyes. How hard did one have to stare at another for them to spontaneously combust?

Varric, large as his nose was, didn’t seem to smell her distress this time. He laughed. "I am if Seeker has anything to say about it! Why, you're a fan too? Learning anything interesting?"

"On the contrary, I have an idea for another serial I'm sure readers would enjoy."

Lavellan’s shoulders relaxed marginally, head tilting at a quizzical angle. What was he doing...

"I don't usually entertain book pitches, but for you Sparkler? Let's hear it."

"It's about a famous, powerful young artist, who falls in love with a roguishly charming, dashingly handsome writer-"

Aaaaand there went her shoulders again, hitched almost to her burning ears. Back safely to Varric, she frantically mouthed "I'll KILL you, you sunnuvabitch", the rest of Dorian's blatantly obvious pitch drowning under the blood pumping in her ears. His mouth quirked up in the only indication he was paying her any mind at all.

Varric made a thoughtful noise, and she didn't dare turn round to look at him. "An artist and a writer, huh? It's got potential. And no one can say it's... unrealistic." Maker's breath, was he implying something? Was that tone barely concealed subtext, or just Varric being an asshole?

And Dorian couldn't leave it at that, oh no, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus did things halfway. "And say, if you do decide to write it, I'm sure our dear inquisitor wouldn’t mind illustrating. Surely you two have known each other long enough that working closely for prolonged periods of time wouldn’t be too agonizing."

Using her body as a shield, Lavellan flipped him off.

"It's certainly something to consider," Varric hummed, none the wiser to Lavellan's mortification. Unless... he was playing with her? "I'm sure my lady readers would appreciate another romance."

Dorian stared straight into Lavellan's eyes. "They certainly would."

"What about it, Herald?" Oh Maker, he was leaning over her now. The scent of warm leather drifted over her like the sweetest perfume-- NO, that was gross! Don’t think like that! "Feel like collaborating?"

"Sure," her voice came out more like a squeak than a sound, and Dorian couldn't quite hide his snort behind his moustache.

The creak of leather as Varric leaned back. "Peachy. After we take care of this Corypheus business, of course, even I understand that we have priorities. Speaking of, I gotta ask Seeker something. Dorian."

Dorian nodded in farewell, radiating smugness. Expecting her turn to be next and realizing at the same time that she hadn't looked at Varric a single time during this conversation, Lavellan finally turned to the dwarf.

Bad idea. She turned directly into that insufferable crooked grin. His hooded eyes glittered with mischief, like he was privy to an in-joke. The sun set behind him, haloing his visage with golden light. Varric himself couldn't have written this scene better, and Lavellan hated herself for thinking it. Her ears drooped under the weakness of her own body.

Varric's grin widened marginally. "Inquisitor."

"Bye," Lavellan breathed more than said. Dorian snorted again, louder, but Varric was polite enough not to mention it. He continued up the stairs and Lavellan managed until his heavy bootsteps faded away to melt into a humiliated puddle. She slumped over her legs, burying her face in her hands.

"Dear me, Inquisitor, your ears are a most delightful shade of crimson."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"Once I can stand again, I am going to take my knife and cut out your tongue."

"Oh, I'd still find ways to humiliate you."

"I wont even use my nice knife. It'll be a kitchen knife. You'll suffer for days, just like I am now."

He patted her jovially on the shoulder. "Come now, Lavellan, surely you must know that Varric is crass and boorish, but he's far from an idiot. He'll nip this in the bud within the week and I need to get a decent amount of teasing in before then."

Lavellan punched him in the arm.

END

#dragon age inquisition #da:i #varric tethras #varric #lavellan #dorian pavus #dorian #Varric/inquisitor #varriquisitor?#writing #oneshot

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i-loves-my-lemurs · 3 years

Text

Fanfic writer's director's commentary! Thanks to @candycoloredwolf for the ask! I chose to talk about my first panchulien oneshot 'Wanna Dance?'. I wrote it in a single night on impulse so there's a few grammar mistakes and other stuff I noticed upon revisiting it.

I probably went way overboard on my commentary (oops) but it was so much fun going through it all. I hope this is entertaining.

.............

*the crocodile ambassador gave him an unusually soft smile.*

After everything that's happened in the show, I feel like the croc ambassador would have warmed up to Julien quite a bit and come to respect him as a leader. Also he's trying to butter Julien up before complaining about one of his subjects.

*provided they were on their best behaviour. It had said on the invitation that it was a 'sophisticated' event, so Maurice had managed to wrangle all of the lemurs into formal wear, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, dancing in pairs to the soft music*

Man, I just love it when characters dress up in fancy outfits and go dancing together (like in the prom episode). One of my favourite tropes in fact, so I just had to throw it in there!

*but still all this fancy partnered dancing wasn't entirely to the ringtail's taste.*

As much as I like the formal dancing stuff, it wouldn't be something Julien would enjoy, so he's already looking for an excuse to bounce and throw his own afterparty. He's only stayed so far to try and be polite and improve relations between their kingdoms or something else that Maurice told him to do.

*Clover, Sage and the rest of the mountain lemur kingdom was there, and the king and queen were happily sharing a waltz. Maurice was dancing with his sister while Prince Brodney was teaching their children the steps*

This takes place after the show's finale, but without the inclusion of the zoosters, so sort of like a parallel universe? Where Julien and Clover are monarchs together, which I think is neat. Also People tend to forget that Maurice has a sister, myself included really, and I kinda wish they'd had more cute bonding moments, so I gave then a brother/sister dance.

*even Pancho was leaning against a tree*

Aside from the main squad (excluding Mort of course) Pancho is the only minor lemur that Julien really mentions here. Almost like he was looking for him specifically. Hmmm....

*He caught Julien's eye and winked. Julien chuckled fondly.*

Casual flirt.

*"I do have a minor issue with the behaviour of one of your, ahem, subjects*

That little cough just feels like something the croc ambassador would do when he's embarrassed, or to sound authoritative, so he did.

*Julien tore his eyes away from Pancho*

"Tore his eyes away" almost like he didnt want to look away. Hmmm...

*The anxious lemur was currently giggling as he twirled his new boyfriend around*

Ah, I just want Willie to be happy and have a good time with his bf. He deserves to laugh more. New boyfriend infers that they're in the early stages of their relationship, so they're just messing around being silly and cute and having fun together.

*but Horst and Mary Ann weren't doing much better.*

Horst and Mary Ann deserve a nice romantic dance. It would be pretty awkward because she's twice his size and can only really walk on all fours, but they don't even care. They just cut their own path through the dance floor and ignore everyone else, no matter how annoyed the other dancers are because they keep getting in the way.

*"Well, they're both males!" He said. "It's completely unnatural, wouldn't you agree?"*

Oof, the croc ambassador wants that snooty monarch solidarity with Julien since he's the most popular king in Madagascar, but that ain't happening any time soon. Not with that attitude!

*Julien was lost for words. He had known ever since he was young that he liked boys. Every male in the kingdom liked boys! In fact, it was considered a little unusual if you WEREN'T interested in the same gender.*

I like the idea that homosexuality is just the norm in the party kingdom, kinda like She-Ra. People are just gay and nobody thinks anything of it and coming out is celebrated. Julien doesn't care if you're gay or straight though, he just cares for his peeps and wants them to love who they love.

*whatever their genders were*

A subtle difference between Julien and the croc ambassador, Julien says 'genders' while croc ambassador says 'sexes' because Julien is more open to the idea of gender not being confined to biology.

*Julien took a few deep breaths and tried desperately to not get angry.

"What's the problem man, they're just dancing." He remarked in what he hoped was a neutral tone.*

Julien tries to keep his cool here, a bit of his character development showing. He now knows that everything doesnt have to be a scene, so keeps his temper. It's also kind of to protect Willie and his partner though. He knows they're having a good time and he doesn't want to bring to their attention that their host doesn't like what they're doing, because he knows they'll be upset.

*"rather not have it ruined by such atrocities being committed!"*

And this was the point where I started to hate the croc ambassador too while writing.

*"Oh, hey Julio." Pancho smiled at him. "I was just gonna-"*

Pancho was just gonna say that he was bored with the party and wanted to leave. He would have asked if Julien wanted to come with (he could tell Julio was getting bored and he couldn't have THAT), which would have been a different fanfiction entirely.

*"Wanna dance?" Julien said.*

I honestly can't remember if I thought of the title or this line first.

*He considered sticking his tongue out at the reptile's back, but ultimately decided that such a juvenile display wasn't the best way to get his point across.*

Again, character development. Julien has matured (a little) and realised that there are better, more fulfilling ways of getting revenge.

*"OK." Pancho said with a shrug, and slid his paw over to Julien's waist,*

Once Pancho can mentally catch up with what's going on, he rolls with it. In fact, he sorta likes the idea of dancing with Julien, and had been trying to gather the courage to ask him for most of the night. I wonder why...

*As they danced though, he began to feel his attention drawn to a different place: how smooth Pancho was on the dance floor,*

We all know Julien's attention span is not great, so there's no way he's going to be able to stay angry when he's too busy being distracted by Pancho's smoothness.

*He raised an eyebrow. "You just couldn't resist?"*

Not entirely subtle flirt.

*"But you know, you're not a bad pick." He patted Pancho on the arm.*

Not entirely subtle either flirt.

*"Abner over there's been missing steps and stumbling all night!" He glanced over at Abner and his wife with a small frown.*

Poor Abner, he's the one getting picked on tonight. Bit of a running gag here.

*Pancho's eyes widened and he instinctively pulled Julien closer, whether it was to shield him or to further prove the point, Julien couldn't tell, but the ringtail wasn't complaining.*

Pancho does pull Julien closer on instinct to protect him, he knows how badly homophobia would hurt Julien's feelings. Julien is just loving it though. He was more angry for Willie's sake than hurt anyways.

*"But us lemurs dance with guys all the time!" Pancho exclaimed. "I've seen you kiss four different guys at a party once! What's his problem?"

"That's what I'm saying, wait I did what?"*

Even if they weren't a couple, dancing together is just something the males would do. They're that casual. And of course Julien would go around kissing everybody at his parties when he gets drunk enough. Poor Julien doesnt remember half of what he does at parties though.

*"Oh no, I don't mind." Pancho remarked, then cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.*

Awkward silence much? Internally Pancho is just screaming *why did you say that?!" because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings right now, especially not with Julien so close.

(For any other ballroom dance enthusiasts, what they're dancing would be a mix between a waltz and a slow dance. Like a casual, less fancy waltz that's quite easy for them to get the hang of, but still quite romantic and personal).

*"You know Julio, I don't think he's gonna notice." Pancho remarked.*

But eventually Pancho plucks up the courage. They're already dancing, he tells himself. And Julien just wants to make the crocodile ambassador mad. Julien kisses people platonically all the time so he won't question it. If he doesnt like it, say you were doing it to piss off the crocodiles. And if he does like it... well...

*"Well, I had an idea." Pancho was avoiding his gaze again."*

He's still nervous of course, but he's made up his mind. It's all or nothing, baby!

*"Lay it on me." Julien said.*

And he does! Literally!

*And holy Sky Gods.*

I was tempted to have this line be 'holy crap' or 'holy sh*t' because that's what I would say idk but holy sky gods just works better for the show's lore, and allows the story to keep a G rating.

*All thoughts of spiting the crocodile ambassador had been fully driven from his mind*

Julien just gets so caught up in the moment, he's all "what crocodile ambassador?" he just wants to keep kissing.

*Julien stroked his paw through Pancho's soft fur and deepened their kiss.*

I imagine Pancho's fur would be very soft, he's always playing around with explosives so he's bound to get his fur burnt off every now and then, and it grows back softer.

This was the first time I wrote the lemurs kissing, so it's not the most explicit thing in the world. I probably couldn't write an explicit kiss scene to save my life though.

*"Hoo-ah." Pancho sighed softly.*

Hoo-ah" is exactly what Pancho would say after having his mind blown by a kiss like that. Just no thoughts, head Julien.

*"Yeah, crocodile ambassador certainly thinks so." Pancho said, a wild grin overcoming his face*

Heh heh, Pancho's happy because he just got to kiss his crush (and he liked it!) But also because he can see the croc ambassador is pissed and he loves the opportunity to mess.

*some looking angry, some looking intrigued*

Some of the crocs are intrigued because they've never been able to be open about who they are or experiment because of compulsory heterosexuality in their kingdom. Seeing two guys just being so open about their attraction to each other would definitely help them rethink things. They've never seen gay love expressed like this and it's new and exciting.

*Julien's face broke out into an ecstatic grin.

"Yeah that's right!" He called wildly. "I kissed a guy! At your party! Boom, I like kissing guys! Ha, suck on that loser! Woohoo!"*

Oh the sweet triumph of proving a point. This rant was a joy to write, it just feels very Julien.

*He grabbed Pancho's hand and held it up.*

Grab your boyfriend's hand, hold it aloft like a prize.

*"I'm like ninety percent sure Ted likes kissing guys!"*

Haha, poor Teddy needs to be extracted from the closet, pronto. Julien just has an excellent gaydar.

* and tucked a protective arm around his daughter's shoulders, turning her away from Julien.*

I imagine princess Amy would have some questions after this, questions which her father would definitley struggle to answer. If she really wants to find out what Pancho and Julien were doing, I imagine she'd visit the party kingdom alone, and the lemurs would be happy to answer her questions. Pancho and Julien may have ushered in a new era for the crocodile kingdom and their relationship with LGBT+.

*There came a cheer from the crowd of lemurs and they all began to head off the dance floor*

Of course the other lemurs go with Julien immediately, he's their king after all and the moment he suggests that someone might not be cool with their sexualities, they're ready to bounce.

*Clover and Sage at the front hand in hand,*

Clover and Sage would definitley be behind Julien 100%. The moment he declares that they're out of there, they just drop everything to leave with him.

*some mountain lemur ladies holding hands too.*

Mountain lemur lesbians? Anyone? I just think it's neat.

*"You read my mind, Julio."

Julien pulled Pancho towards him and tried to ignore how it felt like there was a little party going on in his stomach when Pancho called him that.*

Julien really likes that name! I see it as an affectionate nickname Pancho gave him that eventually just evolves into a pet name that makes Julien a little warm and fuzzy inside every time he hears it.

*Julien's heart leapt with joy to see Willie clutching his boyfriend's hands as they danced.*

Daaaww, Julien might pick on Willie but at the end of the day he likes to see him happy. He's glad they don't have to stay at a party where their dancing is scrutinised.

*Pancho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as they stood face to face. "I'm sorry about kissing you, I just-"*

Now that there's some distance between them, Pancho has had time to think and wonder "oh sheesh, what if I messed it up, what if he only felt like it was platonic" and he's now all embarrassed, poor leem. He's just a guy in love.

*He nodded, then cleared his throat in an attempt to get a grip on his emotions. "You know, um, while we were dancing*

And now we see Julien trying to hold it together, these two are just so precious and I can totally see them stumbling over their feelings like that.

*kissed Pancho on the forehead, giggling slightly at the other lemur's squeak of surprise.*

Pancho is the perfect height for affectionate forehead kisses, let's not forget it!

*Pancho and Julien headed onto the dancefloor together and moved their bodies to the beat.*

They would have spent the night together just dancing and vibing (and making out probably).

*Nobody there who gave them the stink-eye or who told them that they were wrong. They danced and had fun and kissed without a care in the world. Julien felt so happy that his kingdom was a place where he could kiss Pancho all he liked.*

Ah I really went to town on the "love is love" concept here, didn't I? Well, a theme is a theme.

Julien's just really happy at the place he's created. He's glad they can dance and kiss and all that jazz, and he did that, he created a kingdom free of prejudice. It's exactly how I can see the kingdom's relationship with LGBT+ going down, a place where they're all just happy to vibe and be themselves.

.........

And that's the end. I hope you enjoyed this premium insight into my writings, and if you want commentary on another of my stories, or just have random questions, then my inbox is always open :)

#ask post #fanfic commentary #ahkj fanfiction #homophobia mention

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blondehairstripe · 4 years

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Moonstruck (Chapter 2)

Fandom: Tangled the Series Rating: T Characters: Varian, Rapunzel, Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider Relationships: Varian/Rapunzel Tags: Fae Varian, Alternate Universe, Varipunzel, Aged-Up Character(s)

Summary: The townsfolk whispered that it had been the fae who had driven the young alchemist mad and compelled him to commit atrocities against their daughters. Many felt he’d deserved his fate, to vanish without a trace, no doubt the fae claiming their dues.

But Rapunzel couldn’t bring herself to forget the desperate young man who sold his soul. They’d shared too much—she cared for him. So when she hears the sound of his voice on the wind, she follows without question, not knowing what she’ll find.

Read on Ao3

Thoughts of her lost friend plagued Rapunzel, driving her to distraction more than ever before. Her family noticed, her friends noticed, Eugene noticed. So when he gently asked what was troubling her, she couldn’t contain herself and told him what she saw.

At first, he had been skeptical; assured her it must have been a dream, some figment of her imagination conjured from too many sleepless nights fretting over the fate of their fallen friend.

His assurances planted a seed of doubt, making her wonder if it truly had been a strange fantasy. But no sooner was the seed planted than it grew into resolve. She needed to know the truth. So she asked him to come with her, to lay to rest once and for all whether she’d merely been dreaming.

He humored her, and that night they slipped away into the forest together, Eugene chiding her for nearly leaving her protective iron charm as he pressed it firmly into her palm, wrapping her fingers around the cool metal.

There was no song to guide her this time, but she knew the way. Through the trees and past the weaving wisteria branches, the lake awaited them.

Eugene went ahead of her, parting the branches and stepping cautiously towards the shore. He stopped short, his gaze darting back and forth between the lake and the sky above.

“Okay, I’m no expert in…reflectology or whatever, but I’m pretty sure water is only supposed to reflect things that are actually there,” he said, gesturing between the waxing moon in the sky and the bright orb shining on the water. “And…” He squinted. “What’s making those ripples?”

“It means he’s here,” Rapunzel breathed, lowering the hood of her cloak as she stepped past him. “I knew I wasn’t dreaming.”

Eugene took hold of her arm, keeping her from going any further. “Rapunzel, wait. We have no idea what’s causing this. It could be dangerous.”

Rapunzel looked over her shoulder huffily. “I already told you it’s Varian.”

Eugene gave her a sympathetic look as he released her arm and stepped next to her. “Sunshine, I know you miss him, but you can’t go around thinking every weird, magicky thing has something to do with him. I mean, you said before that he was walking around out there singing, and I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s because…” Eyes widening, Rapunzel raised her hand and uncurled her fingers from the iron ring she still held, having never bothered to slip it on. “Because of this.” Slowly, she tipped her hand to the side, letting the weight of it slide off her skin and fall to the slanted shore. It bounced once before rolling into the water with a plop.

“No—!” But Eugene’s warning was lost to her because suddenly he was there, walking the lake once more. His lips formed the words to a haunting melody that wove into the chilly night air and filled Rapunzel’s senses.

She drew in a sharp breath before tugging at Eugene’s sleeve with an eager insistence. “Look look, there he is!” she said excitedly, pointing out over the lake.

The song faded away, Varian’s head turning at the sound of her voice. A wide smile broke across his face as he caught sight of her, and he moved closer to the shore. “Princess, you came back!”

“Ohhh no—why are the ripples getting closer?!” Eugene took hold of Rapunzel’s shoulders and stepped away from the water, pulling her with him.

Varian stopped at Rapunzel’s retreat, looking confused. “Rapunzel…you’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asked, his face falling.

Rapunzel felt a stir in her chest at his forlorn look, and she dug in her heels, stopping Eugene from tugging her any further. “Eugene, stop it,” she scolded him, ducking out of his hold. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

Varian’s brow creased even further. “Eugene…?” A look of realization flashed across his face along with something else Rapunzel wasn’t quite able to identify before his expression softened again. “Rapunzel…” he murmured, spreading his arms.

Both Rapunzel and Eugene gasped as droplets of moonlight detached from the lake’s surface and floated into the air, the watery bubbles gently bursting into small orbs that shone softly as they lazily bobbed and weaved around Varian.

Varian lowered his arms and smiled at Rapunzel, and as if on cue the lights spun around him before fanning out to skip across the water, their reflections sparkling against the dark surface.

Delighted, Rapunzel clasped her hands to her chest, before letting out a soft gasp and giggling as a handful of orbs swirled around her, playfully rustling her skirt and hair before darting away again.

“F-fairie lights?” Eugene sputtered. “Rapunzel, we’ve got to—Rapunzel?” He twisted his head only to see that she’d followed after the glowing orbs.

“Oh, they’re beautiful…” she breathed, kneeling down at the water’s edge to cup one of the lights in her hands. It was warm, lightly pulsing with magic that felt soft and comforting as it flickered gently against her palms.

A pair of strong hands grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her from the ground. “Wha—hey!” She kicked her feet, indignant.

“Nope, nada, not happening!” Eugene said, turning and marching back towards the forest with her. “No one’s getting spirited away on my watch.” His grip tightened almost imperceptibly. “…not again.”

“He…he wasn’t going to—!” Turning her head, Rapunzel caught Varian’s gaze, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her spine at how icy it was as he watched her.

As if realizing he’d been caught staring, Varian’s eyes widened. Then he was gone, the lake plunging into darkness as the full moon rippled into inky blackness and the glowing orbs snuffed out like spent candles.

“Aaaand that’s our cue to go,” said Eugene, and Rapunzel didn’t resist as he took her hand and led her homeward, his firm grip serving as the only thing grounding her against the whispers of song that followed her, the sweet, lilting words promising things she’d only ever dreamed of.

#varian #rapunzel #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tts #tangled #varipunzel #blonde's fics

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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The Tinder Chronicles (Lemon x basically everyone?) - Mermelada

A/N: Bonjour Bonjour Bonjour, long time no fic! I’m currently job-less, so have naturally developed an obsession with the Canadian dwolls! This is (hopefully) going to be a multi-chapter lesbian/bi/pan AU, with lots and lots of appearances from different queens as Lemon figures her life out. I have a vague idea of what direction I want the story to go in, but I am always open to suggestions and feedback! Gros bisous à toustes! (Gender neutral French still looks a bit odd, but we’re going with it!)

Lemon tapped her yellow acrylic nails against the screen of her phone. It was now or never: she could either wallow in her post break-up misery for another two months; or she could finally start piecing her life back together and get back on the dating scene. She shook her head at the ridiculousness of her current emotional turmoil, blinking, sighing, and finally pressing the ‘download’ button on her screen. For the first time in three years, she was single. And for the first time in three years, she was going to use a dating app.

The icon spun for a few seconds, the app finally opened on her screen. This, she supposed, was the easy part. She decided to link her Facebook profile to speed things up, and pressed the buttons that she was a woman, interested in women. Not wanting to spend too long on a profile she wasn’t even sure she’d use, she chose her current favourite photo of herself to head up her profile, an adorable portrait of her sat on her kitchen floor, in plaid pyjamas, cuddling her dog. Nobody needs to know that an hour after the bliss pictured, she’d cried herself to sleep, once again unable to shake the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy from her mind. She quickly followed by adding an assortment of photos from her Instagram which she felt best “advertised” herself: posing happily in front of the theatre where she’d just performed, cradling a giant bouquet of flowers (from her grandma, bless her); holding her leg in a grand-battement in the ballet studio, clad solely in a black leotard and bright yellow legwarmers; staring seductively into the camera lens at the dinner table, which could have been sexy if it weren’t for the floating crab claws above her head, courtesy of an off-camera Jan; and a simple selfie she’d taken moments before at her desk, with her thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her hair tied back in a messy heap on top of her head. She looked at the five images, hoping that people would be able to see the kind of upbeat, loyal, and fun-loving person she really is. Or, at least, the person she can be when her heart isn’t broken. Next came her bio, which she really couldn’t be bothered with, so she just wrote the only vaguely amusing tagline she could think of: “Pucker up, motherfuckers.”

Happy with her choices, she finally clicked the ‘save’ button and waited. The loading screen turned and twisted for what seemed like an eternity, which almost gave Lemon enough time to change her mind and delete everything. But before she could even contemplate quitting, the first profile sprung up in her hand.

Priyanka, 29

Within 10 miles

Wow, this girl – sorry, grown ass goddess – was stunning. There was no other way of putting it. Lemon bit her lip as she scrolled through the photos, holding back her giddy excitement at the prospect of getting to know with Priyanka.

Nope, she thought, don’t get too carried away. She hasn’t matched with you yet. She probably hasn’t even seen your profile yet. And she also probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you, you dumb bi- Dropping her phone and jumping onto her bedroom floor Lemon resorted to the best way of controlling her anxiety she could: doing a handstand against the wall, while singing the national anthem. The first time she attempted it was after her dad – in a panic himself – had suggested it, not sure how best to look after his daughter as her breaths shortened and her pulse raced. As it turned out, it was the perfect distraction for her adrenaline-fuelled brain, and she now kept it as her secret weapon against her hidden anxiety monsters. Maybe she could share it with someone else one day. As she finished the last long note, she stood back upright and lay back on her bed, carefully timing her breathing.

Okay, now where was I…?

Priyanka was hot. She had a picture sat on a beach in a blue and white striped bikini, followed by one in a beautiful white and gold lehnga, taken in what looked like a garden, but Lemon’s favourite was the candid snap of a laughing Priyanka in the middle of a street, surrounded by people, holding a pride flag around her shoulders. Without needing to think anymore, Lemon swiped to the right…

…and nothing happened. Without feeling too disheartened – she had only just downloaded the app, after all, these things take time – she read through the next profile.

Rita, 33

Within 10 miles

Now Rita was completely different from Priyanka, but Lemon wasn’t complaining. Her main profile picture was an artsy selfie, with her short platinum hair sleeked back, making her look every inch the sexy business lady Lemon loved. As she scrolled through the pictures, she learned that Rita was clearly a lover of the 80s, as she was definitely not afraid of bright make-up or loud, monochromatic clothing. Glancing down at bio, it simply read “Je me sens sous-titrée”. Lemon may have dropped French as soon as she was allowed at school, but it only added to her already growing intrigue. Even more enticing, however, was the final picture, where Rita appeared to be dressed as a young Céline Dion, passionately serenading a hot dog. Swiping right was a no-brainer.

The next profile quickly followed, with Lemon once again swiping right.

Kyne, 21

Within 10 miles

She was younger than Lemon would have usually gone, sure, but Kyne was pretty. She was tanned and toned and had perfect eyeliner and was a final-year mathematics and statistics major?! Sign her up!

Kiara, 22

Within 10 miles

“Kiki wanna kaikai, maybe you’ll be my type ;) “. That was all the next girl had written in her profile bio, the suggestive nature making Lemon audibly snort. She would definitely be down for some fun with Kiara, she had to be a supermodel! The tall girl was a vision in red, with her dark hair cascading down her back as she posed for the camera. It was an obvious right-swipe.

Tynomi, 39

Within 10 miles

Okay, so maybe Lemon had forgotten to set an age filter, but now she was glad it had slipped her mind. Tynomi was exquisite – if Lemon could have a figure like that at 39, she’d be a very happy girl. There was no bio to read, only four photos. In the first two, Tynomi was wearing a skin-tight lime green t-shirt dress, standing on a balcony looking out to the sea. In one, she started moodily at the camera, her honey-blonde hair gently blowing behind her. Though in the second one, Lemon could practically hear the laughter radiating from the tall woman, her mouth wide open and teeth sparkling in the sunlight.

I wonder what was making her laugh like that, Lemon pondered, zooming in to where she wishfully thought she saw the faint outline of a nipple through the thin material. Maybe one day I could make her laugh, and then I’d laugh at how much she is laughing, and we’d be so happy together… Uh oh, control yourself, Lem. Focus. Let’s not get carried away… But fuck, please choose me, Tynomi!

Boa, 25

Within 10 miles

Lemon stared at the profile, pursing her lips. She knew deep down that as much as she told herself she didn’t have a type, all of her past fixations – yes, including she-who-must-not-be-named – had one thing in common. They were all skinny bitches. But Lemon wanted to change that, she really did, she is now at an age where she needs someone she can bond with on a deeper level and have some fun with. And Boa looked very, very fun: her profile picture was her sat on a bale of hay while dressed as a cow, how could you not be entertained?! The rest of her photos followed a similar theme, until Lemon reached the final one, which took her breath away. Boa stood on a spiral staircase, with a huge smile upon her face as her sparkly silver dress hugged all he curves.

She’s funny, she’s pretty, she has amazing tits… let’s do it!

And then, she saw it. To say she felt her eyes pop out of her head, her lower jaw hit the floor, and her stomach turn inside-out would be an understatement. Two months after blocking her on every platform she could think of, two months after deleting every photo of her, two months after having her heart shattered… There she was, staring straight into Lemon’s soul.

Juice, 31

Within 10 miles

Lemon’s mind went blank. In her haste to get the beaming picture of the girl she may-or-may-not still be in love with off her screen as quickly as possible, her thumb slid the screen to the right. Before her brain could even catch up with the atrocity she had just committed, a bright, white notification popped up on her phone.

“CONGRATULATIONS! You have matched with Kiara!”

#rpdr fanfiction #drcan #lemon #priyanka #rita baga #kyne #kiara #tynomi banks #boa the drag queen #juice boxx #lesbian au #angst #the tinder chronicles #lmid #mermelada #can1 #tw anxiety and mild self loathing #submission

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cryinginthebackseat · 4 years

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ɪ ʙᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇꜰʟᴏᴏʀ

Fandom: It Lives In The Woods

Pairing: MC x Noah, MC x Connor

Words: 3.134

Summary: She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!"

Jesus, since when did he celebrate something in general? And now to dance? Amongst the crowd and with her no less? Noah's head said hard no, he already had a myriad of thoughts in his mind right now, he couldn't afford getting distracted and when there were feelings in the way, he feared if he couldn't trust himself to keep his emotion in check.

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

Warnings: nothing much, just swearing and some sexual tension

Author’s note: this headcanon is purely the brainchild of the amazing @noahmrshall where she requested me to write it down for her. after 84 years and a pandemic later, finally, frickking finally I manage to finish it LMAO I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG, GIRL.

Anyway, make sure you tune in to feel real by deptford goth while reading, cause this is the song these are dancing to. And for those who haven’t read my first Noah x MC story, you can find it here on my main blog. Finally you know the drill, if you’re digging it or simply detest it, let me know, yeah? thanks!

Mamihlapinatapei (n.) the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start

Prom was a montage of lipstick stains on paper cups, rap music with devastating bass drops, multicolored balloons at everyone’s feet, and the strobe lights that flickered above, turning the entirety of the gym into a one flashy, neon show.

And then there was Noah, the reluctant cinematographer of this pandemonium of pubescents making rounds on the dancefloor, buzzing in excitement while he resided in the corner, sulking, contemplating, a punch in his hand-- spiked, courtesy of King Kang himself in which he’d passed the cup at Noah earlier.

Noah didn't have any idea just how many types of liquor he'd mixed into the beverage, nor did he have the capacity to ask. He simply drank in the corner, restless, alone, hand fidgeting with his jacket and beanie. He thought with the alcohol in his system, it would be enough to make him feel better, lighter. Made him forget, god forgive him, for the atrocities he was about to commit to the ones he called friends.

Friends who'd abandoned him in his time of needs, friends who barely recognised him, friends who made him laugh at one of their antics, friends who gave him an apron for his 18th birthda--

Wait. Noah shook his head, conflicted, internally berating himself. No, no, no, there should be no room for pity for them. Jane was his number one priority here, not… Not them.

And especially not Zoey.

His internal conflict somehow was aggravated when he saw a speck of galaxy's dust of hair on the dancefloor, twirling, cavorting, in the arms of another. Zoey. Her face painfully close to his, lips hovering over Connor's cupid's bow, not quite kissing him, but enough for Noah to look the other way. Suddenly, the bottom of the half-emptied cup seemed a lot more interesting.

He had no right to feel what he felt. He knew that. Especially considering how he was about to turn her whole life upside down. But feelings are feelings, it could creep up to anyone at any time, any place. It was beyond anyone's control.

And seeing her with Connor like this, laughing and dancing and kissing like fools in love they were, made his insides twist. Jealousy contributed a lot for the matter, obviously, but what hurt the most was because he knew that in all of his jadedness, hopelessness, miserable at the age of eighteen he could never give all of those to her. Zoey deserved someone who’d sit and sing to her about the stars, whom she could turn to when the chips were down, she deserved the world.

And the world was something he was about to take from her.

Jesus, could things just be fucking simple for once?

Zoey and Connor only parted once the song was finished. He kissed her cheek, a privilege that he was lucky enough to obtain and made a beeline out of the gym for a call. Leaving her alone, silver-haired amidst the sea of browns and blondes.

She craned her head to the side, her gaze finding Noah's across the room and smiled that smile of hers that lit up her entire face.

When Zoey made her way towards his position, Noah immediately straightened his posture, feigning nonchalance as if he hadn't been spending the last minutes yearning for her lips, her touch, her attention and his betrayal to her simultaneously.

“Enjoying the party, Kelmeckis?” Zoey sidled up to him, snatched the cup from his hand and sipped. Which floored Noah at how casually she handled her alcohol.

“No.” Noah eyed her confusedly then. “And Kelmeckis?”

“You know, Charlie Kelmeckis?” Noah gave her a look as if “who the fuck???” to which she simply groaned. “From the Perks of Being A Wallflower?”

“Jesus, Uttley, only you would throw a pop culture reference at someone as a greeting.”

“And only you would be the only one who don’t get it,” she countered, and then she laughed, matching his own.

He regarded her for what if felt like the first time tonight and thought to himself how lucky Connor was to have her.

"You, uh..." You look beautiful, it hurts my feelings. "You clean up nice, by the way."

Zoey looked at him oddly. "Damn, Marshall, did this come from?"

He shrugged. "I'd say the punch, but I guess 'cause I've never seen you in a dress since we were eight, so, yeah…" Tell her the truth, said the alcohol. Stop this fucking nonsense now, said the better parts of his head. "Yeah…"

He thought he saw her cheeks blushed, but wasn't sure given to the lighting. "Thanks, Noah."

His eyes found hers, hers found his. For a long moment, it was as if they were going to initiate something. Anything.

She was the first to look away and blinked, as if she had just looked at the sun for too long and now she was seeing double vision. Noah also tore his gaze from her, finding himself, unsurprisingly, unfortunately, disappointed.

“I thought you'd left. Or worse, on your sixteenth cigarette of the hour or something," she broke the silence first, eyes still not meeting his.

Noah squinted at her, mouth crooked. "So smoking is worse than leaving, huh?"

"Hell yeah. I don't want you to get lung cancer by 40-"

"Live fast, die young, Z," he interrupted, a sarcastic, lazy drawl to his voice that made Zoey shoot him a withering look.

"Not on my watch, Marshall. And I absolutely won't let those cancer sticks turn your mouth into," Zoey gesticulated, shrugging altogether. "An oral ashtray or something."

Noah chuckled, again-- God, it was so easy to laugh when she was around-- mid-eye-roll, his hand rifling through his blazer pocket for a pack of mint. Took one out and raised it to his mouth.

"That's what these mints are for."

With a small shake of her head, Zoey muttered, "Bastard." Though not without a great deal of kindness.

Ah, shit, he was going to miss this, bantering with her, laughing along with her-- just being around her in general. The thought rendered a profound pang in his heart, and he hadn’t got the chance to say he l--

No, his head said, internally berating himself. The moment had passed now. Zoey had Connor, someone who loved her unconditionally. His prime focus should be on what other scenarios should he reside so that his friends would follow him to the ruins? Or what should he do once Andy realized his phone was missing? So many things he should be ruminating, yet Zoey was where his head begged him to refer to.

Noah didn’t realize the smile on his face dropped into a frown until it was too late, until Zoey’s own also disappeared.

"Hey?" her voice so soft it could have been a caress for all he knew, taking a step closer. "You okay?" She asked, concern etched in that ocean eyes of hers.

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Was his answer, but he tore his gaze away from her, the red balloon near his foot seemed like the only haven that could ward her off from delving into his soul.

Zoey cocked her head to the side, as if unconvinced. “You sure? Noah, you know you can tell me anything.”

I know. But not this.

“I know. I’m… I guess I'm still kinda tired from what happened. That’s all,” he lied, and it felt like he was slowly slicing his own heart.

“Hey.” Zoey stepped closer, craning her neck to see him due to their heights. Her hands on his arms, comforting. “It's over now, Noah. We defeated him and kicked his ghostly ass back where he came from. We did that. You did that- against all odds. I know it's bound to leave some scars, but I want you to remember that from now on, you don’t have to shoulder all of the world by yourself anymore. Do you hear me?” she asked again, more insistent this time. "I'm not going anywhere. The others aren't going anywhere either. We're all here for you, for better or worse."

Noah sighed, and made the mistake of looking into her eyes. All the while holding onto whatever strength he had to not to crumble completely before her and cry as he scrambled for a response.

I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I can’t do it.

“I...” he stuttered, his voice tight.

God, I can’t hurt her. Not her.

“Zoey, there's something I-"

But the DJ suddenly began to play a different tune, interrupting him whereas her whole face lit up.

"Oh my god, I love this song!"

Noah frowned, whatever he wanted to say to her, forgotten. "Never heard of it."

"That's because you never care to broaden your taste, doofus! You're missing out a lot." Zoey laughed. She offered her hands to him. "Dance with me?" She asked, her eyes glowed hopeful.

Noah looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You heard me the first time, Marshall. Pretty please? Come on, consider this as our way to celebrate Redfield's defeat!"

Yet his heart said otherwise. This was Zoey, Noah could never deny her. He would never deny her anything, especially when this could be their last moment on good terms together.

He accepted her hand. She grinned, like a molten California's sunset and tugged on his hand, soft against his callousness, dragging him towards the dancefloor.

Surreptitiously, Noah stole a glance at his phone when she was not looking. 9:47 pm. 13 minutes to 10. 13 minutes before Jane came barging in. 13 minutes before the final showdown.

13 minutes left to bask in her presence.

The dance floor was jammed packed with some of his classmates, mind lost in the music. And Noah was nervous.

As if she could tell, Zoey stepped toward him. On the dance floor, her gown shimmered like a glittering, silver moon and held his hands, giving them a comforting squeeze.

I'm here.

He squeezed back, I know. And felt his nervousness simmered.

Noah, tongue-tied, feet still rooted the ground, simply swallowed as he watched her before him, magnetising. He gulped, his cheeks flared when Zoey began to sway her hips lightly to the music. Her movements were innocent, but there was something in her eyes that commanded his attention. That girl had a flair in everything she did, alright, dancing being no exception.

"You sure you don't want to wait for Connor for this?" He asked over the music, making sure, eyes darting back and forth just in case Connor came back.

"Nah. He probably won't come back for the next 10 minutes and I'm not going to miss this song just to wait for him," she exclaimed back, flashed her widest set of a smirk. "Come on, bust out some moves, man!"

"I'd embarrassed you," he pointed out. "I'll look worse than Shepard from Mass Effect, I'm telling you."

"I wouldn't laugh." But she was smiling when she said that. "I promise! And do you think anyone would notice even if you move like a feral ghoul? And in this crowd?"

That made Noah laugh, reconsidering.

"Don't think about them," she said in his ear as she could still sense his hesitation. "But most of all, don't think when you dance, Noah. Just let the music flow through you."

"I don't think I know how."

"Let me show you," she told him, sing-song.

Feel real Now Forever meant nothing when we had nothing

As the music picked up its beat, so did Zoey's moves. Guiding them to the rhythm of the music, prompting him to mirror her, to let loose. He followed his instincts and began to actually dance, albeit still stiffly, but making sure to move in time with her. His pulse was racing, being so close to her for the first time. Sweat began to form on his forehead from heat, both from the crowd and their proximity.

The way she moved her hips, the way the music pulsing through his veins blurred everything; what was wrong and right, what was his and what's not as he gradually began to give in to the music, to the feeling. In hindsight, he'd like to think it had been the alcohol that drove him but he knew it wasn't true. He just needed an excuse for all of this.

As if moving in autopilot, Noah twirled her around. Earning her a laugh as she did so, the edges of her silver hair fluttering like a halo. She then pressed her back against his chest. His arms immediately snaked their way around her waist before he could stop himself. Pulling her closer until there was no distance between them. She leaned back into him, her head on his shoulder.

Noah met her eyes. She met his back.

Everything felt electric. Everything felt so wrong, yet the alarms were actually blaring like crazy sounded dim in his head, so he kept going.

The next thing he knew, Zoey spun around again to face him. Two hands reached up to wring her arms around his neck. Noah placed his hands on her waist, feeling the curve of her body for the very first time and he couldn't exactly make out what to feel right now.

A lover come back, I wanna dance like her, Like nobody's watching

The upswing of her warm breath against his cheek, her gaze kept on flickering between his eyes and lips, licking her lower lip. Noah's breath nearly stopped. Nearly toppled over at how intense they were; all-consuming, once again he felt her ocean eyes pulling him in, threatening to drown him. The muscle in his jaw clenched.

The moment stretched. Zoey inched closer until their foreheads nearly touched, the tip of his nose brushed against hers. Noah searched her eyes, his calloused thumb dragging down Zoey's cheek, torn between closing the distance between them, to finally taste her lips after all these years- improprieties being the last damned thing on his mind- or to push her away and wonder if she felt the same.

All too soon, the song ended. And all too soon, the spell broke.

As if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on his face, Noah shook himself back to reality. Realizing what they had done and almost done and took a wide step back from her like he had stabbed her or something, looking into her flushed face. Her eyes widened by a fraction, her mouth slightly ajar.

They only stared at each other, speechless, even as the DJ played a different tune. An unspeakable terror passed between them and a single question that circled around their heads like a vulture:

What in the sweet fuck just happened?

"Hey babe, sorry for making you wait." The two craned their heads to the side to see Connor approaching them, placing his phone back in his breast pocket and kissed her cheek.

"The manager called, saying there's going to be new items coming in next week and he wants me to make the draft for the inventory list."

Once he realized she wasn't responding to his advance, he regarded her then Noah, wondering what on earth the two were doing that left the tension in the room.

"Is… everything okay?" Connor asked, creases appearing in his brows.

"Yeah." Zoey managed to say, shaking off of her trance and feigned a smile. But Connor didn’t seem convinced. "Yeah. We were just playing around-- I mean, we were playing-"

"Staring contest. On the dance floor" Noah nearly winced at how stupid it sounded. "It was her idea."

"Yeah, I saw a bunch of people do it on my IG feed and thought, why not? Though now that we did it, it does seem stupid, isn't it?"

"Yeah, probably, uh, shouldn't do that again." And bunched his pants between his fingers and wondered if Zoey caught the double meaning.

"Took the words right off my mouth," she concurred with a chuckle, but it sounded forced. She even avoided his gaze when Noah tried to look at her, focusing her attention on the floor instead.

He wondered if Connor could pick up on that? Could sense there was more than between the eyes, but he chuckled instead, shaking his head kindly at his girlfriend's antics and kissed her cheek. Again.

Noah looked the other way, feeling his cheeks pink either from what had transpired or jealousy or embarrassment for god knows what or the combination of the three until he remembered the time. He checked his phone again. 5 minutes until 10.

It was time.

He rubbed at the back of his neck and cleared his throat, noncommittal. "Yeah, I'm going to get out and smoke. Catch you guys later."

Noah pivoted around, shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't smile, didn't even spare her a final glance. He felt her eyes on her, expectant, but how could one look at her again after what they'd almost done? How could he look at her again without thinking of her lips, her touch and knowing that not only he wouldn't be able to feel them, but she would never want to see him ever again? It was too much.

"Noah?"

Noah turned at the sound of her voice. His heart broke a little seeing her, just within reach but a million light years away at the same time.

"Yeah?" And nearly winced at how hoarse he sounded.

She was silent for a moment, conflict rose in her face. "See you later."

All too soon, Zoey and Connor made their way deeper into the belly of the dance floor. He stood there, his limbs felt heavy, as if there was a chain holding him down.

Suddenly, he felt a nudge on his ribs. It was Ava.

"So when are you going to tell her about it, loverboy?" She asked, an eyebrow migrated to her hairline. He should have known that even amid the crowd, someone must have noticed him and Zoey on the dance floor.

Noah took a deep breath, his heart felt jagged. "Someday."

Someday. But even he knew that was just another lie he told.

#playchoices #it lives anthology #it lives in the woods #it lives choices #noah marshall #noah x mc #choices #choices story you play #choices fic #choices it lives in the woods #ilitw noah #ilitw #ilitw mc #ava cunningham #connor green #andy kang #pixelberry #my writing ye #mine

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justjessame · 3 years

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Babysitting Butcher Chapter 7

Joseph looked like he’d like to swallow glass when Billy opened my office door and stood glaring down at him. I rolled my eyes and focused on Mallory’s voice coming through the headset of my phone.

“The Church won’t be able to contain Adana’s absence forever, they’ll have to announce that he’s dead, but from what my source is telling me, they aren’t looking to make him a martyr, yet.” Of course not, the Church acted like a fucking rehabilitation for supes gone wild and it was a fucking con. “I know you have Vought’s files and you’re working through them. Have you come across anyone-”

“With the ability to do what this one seems capable of?” I had to be vague, I couldn’t be sure Joseph couldn’t hear me from his position at the door. “Not that I can think of, but I haven’t gone over Billy’s notes yet.” I sighed. “When this comes out-”

“It won’t.” Mallory sounded convinced. “The Church is bargaining for the same status as other churches, the tax free bullshit that organized religion always gets, but since it works under different structures, it’s been denied. They won’t make waves by making accusations, not while Vought is working hard to rehabilitate the Seven and Compound V.” She sighed and I felt another one of my own build. “We have to find out who this rogue supe is, Dr. Taylor, preferably before Billy goes-”

“Completely outside of the bounds of control?” The sigh I’d felt growing finally forced its way out of me. “I think I managed to-” I felt a blush burn on my face and couldn’t finish. There was no way I was going to tell Mallory or anyone outside of Billy and I just how I managed to calm him down. Nope. Not going to happen.

“Yes, well, as long as he’s not making himself famous for domestic terrorism again, I’ll trust your methods.” Fuck. “Let me know if you find what we’re looking for in those files. A name, a location. Something that would let us get a bead on what the hell is going on.” I agreed and then hung up.

“Joseph,” I forced my lips into a smile, walking to the door and stepping around Billy’s hulking figure. “What brought you to my office?” I watched the man swallow hard, his eyes darting at Billy and back to me.

“I-” another gulp. “I came across this request from-” He was sweating and I came close to closing the door behind the two of us so Billy would be trapped in my office and the man in front of me would be more comfortable speaking, but it was MY office. “Here.” He thrust the paper into my hand and turned to rush away. Well, that was interesting.

“You terrified him,” I accused, turning to see the amusement on Billy’s face. Shaking my head I moved back to my desk as I read the request that Joseph deemed important enough to bring to my attention. My eyes roved down the paper and I grew confused. Why would anyone ask for- And then my eyes landed on the name of the person who requested it and I sat down in the chair that Mallory had used. I was trying to make sense of what I was reading.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he muttered, but I didn’t pay much attention. “What does it say?” I handed it to him and waited for him to read through it, while I was still turning it around in my head. “What the fuck?”

“Why would they want to know where-” My eyes met his and I had to shut mine because I swore he was going to ask for more distraction, but he didn’t. Yet.

“He’s supposed to be kept safe and secured away,” he muttered, pacing. “I was told he would be.” I nodded, that was the deal. “Why would-”

“I don’t know,” I answered, reaching for my phone. “But I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

A call up the chain of command, telling them about the request that had been brought to my attention and wanting verification that the information requested would be denied, I felt marginally better when I hung up. Marginally.

“Why would he run it through this office?” I asked, once the handset was back in the cradle. “Isn’t that tempting fate that you’d find out?”

“He wanted me to find out,” and I could see his point. “He knows I was recruited for this little endeavor, and he wanted to poke the bear.”

“And did he?” I wanted to know if I needed to have Billy contained before we moved on with the next fucking shitstorm.

“Am I asking for a distraction?” His eyebrow raised and I felt like Joseph must have, although I doubted that Joseph felt a twist of something dark and pleasant in the pit of his stomach and I definitely knew he didn’t have the memory of how it felt for Billy’s facial hair to burn my skin as he worked his mouth down my neck. Shit. “I’ll let you know when that cunt pokes me hard enough to need-” he licked his lips and his eyes were on mine. “I’ll let you know.”

Somehow, maybe because there wasn’t a whole shit ton we could do with the hint of intelligence we currently had on the mystery supe who could pop people’s heads like a dart flying into a balloon at a carnival game, Billy and I managed to go back to working through the files from Vought. We worked just as quietly as we had before he’d asked for me to distract him. And I was trying very hard to NOT notice how close he was, or how his body heat seemed to invade my personal space.

When lunch rolled around, I decided I didn’t want to eat in my office. I wanted to go at least a short distance away from the entire fucking situation. I didn’t assume he’d come with me, in fact, I thought I gave him an out to leave my company to do whatever it was he did when he had downtime. As we were seated by the hostess of one of my favorite restaurants, Billy across from me, I held back from asking why he didn’t take the escape from my company I’d offered.

Ordering was simple, since all we had to give our server was our drink orders. Chinese buffet, simple and as fast or slow as anyone cared to enjoy it, was what I’d picked. He seemed surprised by my choice, and confirmed it once we gave the waitress our drink preferences and moved to the steaming tables.

“Didn’t peg you for a buffet fan, Ronnie,” he said, as we wandered up and down the offerings with our plates in hand. Shaking my head, I carefully filled my plate.

Looking up, seeing Billy Butcher in a loud Hawiian shirt holding a plate in a buffet was a pretty fucking weird sight, and it caused me to smile. “Guess you don’t know me much, Billy.” I could hear the small snort he gave as he too filled his plate.

Walking back to the table while he continued to peruse the offerings, I smiled as our server set our drink glasses down. Thanking her, I took my seat and waited for him. It didn’t take long, and there he was sitting across from me again. “You didn’t have to wait for me to get started,” he offered, taking up his utensils as I did the same.

“Etiquette, hard to get past, Billy.” He studied me as I took my first bite. I was curious as to what fascinated him about what he was seeing, but with a shake of his head, he too tucked into his lunch.

As we ate, Billy started asking questions. Not work related ones, but ones that if I didn’t know better would make it seem like he was trying to get to know me better. “Why’d you pick the CIA?” His voice was quiet, and the dining room wasn’t full of people, so it wasn’t like we had an audience.

A shrug of my shoulder, my go to gesture, as I took a drink from my glass was my first answer, but he didn’t say anything else so I wasn’t getting off that easily. I sighed. “The FBI has an abundance of agents that can profile criminals, being one of a herd didn’t appeal to me. And actually, the CIA approached me.” They had, once I’d started being published more in journals and other media. My ideas on the inner workings of criminals weren’t that far off from known profilers, but my psychological background, coupled with the fact that I didn’t focus on serial killers, but on those people who committed differing atrocities helped highlight ways they could better utilize my abilities.

“Why’d you become a doctor?” I snorted so hard a noodle nearly popped out of my nose. Taking a moment to compose myself as he stared at me like I’d lost my mind, I shook my head again.

“If you ask my parents, I’m not a REAL doctor.” A distinction they make during every fucking dinner party they force my ass to attend. “I chose psychology because the inner workings of the human mind and the reasons for their behavior fascinates me.” The absolute truth.

“Parents can be fucking useless.” He muttered, his understanding dripping through his voice. “Come from money?” He was looking at me as he took a bite, and I nodded. “Makes it worse, don’t it?”

I sighed around my own bite. When I knew that I could without shaming myself, or my mother, I answered him. “It makes it less agreeable than most people assume.” Like my ex husband for example. He really expected my inheritance to come fast and furious to me when we got married, but boy was he in for a shock. “They never seem to factor in the expectations that come with the perks.”

His eyes were still on me as I ate and spoke, and I knew I should be uncomfortable with the attention, but it didn’t feel strange somehow. “You eat at places like this-” a gesture around at the simpler surroundings than my parents would appreciate, made me nod. “Drive a truck that’s HUGE, and you carry a gun.” Another nod from me. “I’m sure your mum and dad are just pleased as punch with all three.”

I laughed at that. Maybe Billy Butcher was more than he seemed. Then again, I knew that, I’d written the fucking report on it.

Lunch was pretty interesting, as was getting back to work after. The easiness we moved beside one another, pads and pens ready, working through each file made me wonder why it was this simple. I chose not to dwell on it. If Billy Butcher and I could coexist without friction, then I was more than willing to take it. Just not, you know, take IT. With friction. Shit.

#Billy Butcher x ofc #the boys #mention of smut #alternate universe

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