#explained why there's two parts to the grand line

[howtotrainyouragents]

It is infuriating how absurdly simple the One Piece world design is, yet how it completely holds up to the entire story

[azsazz]

Glitz, Glam & Grand Prix

Formula One!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Set at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you, as Ferrari's team Media Trainer, struggle with keeping both drivers in line.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,887

Notes: Back again with another F1 AU 💙 so obsessed with this trope tbh

Belongs to the Off Grid collection.

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“I am not wearing this,” Azriel says flatly, staring at the garment in his hand in horror. He’s holding the hanger hook between a pinched thumb and forefinger, like the newly designed sequined bomber jacket might jump off the holder and strangle him.

He might prefer that.

“Yes, you are,” you answer, distractedly. Your phone buzzes in your hand, another email coming through. Something about a calendar change with the scheduled interviews for the two drivers you’re in charge of for media training. “You’re going to put that jacket on, just like all of the other drivers are doing, and you’re going to march your ass over to the social media team and do what they ask without complaint.”

You cut your—secret—boyfriend a harsh look that matches your no-nonsense tone. He holds your look for all of four seconds before giving in, returning to his glower to the garment in his hand instead. It’s smart of him, choosing not to start with you while you’re in Media Training mode, not secret girlfriend mode where you shoot him teasing grins and cheeky glances behind everyone’s backs.

“Give it here, old man,” Dorian Havilliard says, swiping the coat from him. You cringe, offering Azriel an apologetic smile that looks more like a grimace when his hazel gaze swings wildly to meet yours. As if you can do something about the driver tasing him. Azriel looks like he’s about two seconds from trying to lay Dorian—Ferrari’s newest recruit—out flat.

“I’m not even that old,” Azriel mutters, giving up before the arguing can even begin. The drivers haven’t started off on a good foot, Azriel upset about the realization that he’s getting older in this sport, and the looming fear that the rookie is going to replace him for his Driver 1 spot. For Dorian, he’s too naive yet to understand that he can learn a thing or two from the veteran driver. “Can I fake a stomach bug to get out of this one, ba—(Y/N)?” Azriel stutters, quickly catching his mistake.

Your eyes widen, but thankfully, Dorian doesn’t seem to notice, too enraptured with the design on the back of the bomber. Three dice line the back in white sequins, and instead of regular pips, the black of the dice spells out the acronym F1LVGP: Formula 1 Las Vegas Grand Prix.

It is pretty ugly, but you cannot wait to see your boyfriend in it.

Both drivers are set to shoot media in the very jackets that fans received with their purchase of tickets months ago. It’s going to be as gimmicky and cheesy as Azriel thinks it’s going to be, which is why you refrained from mentioning this specific part of the media tour to him this weekend.

“The fans are going to want to see you both in that jacket,” you explain, biting your lip at Dorian, who has zipped it up to his collarbones. It does look horrid, and there’s a part of you that wishes you could warn the social team about Azriel’s reluctant attitude. Hopefully, they don’t give him any props that might make him look even sillier. “It’s good for the team and the race. Plus, interaction gets us all paid, boys.”

Your phone pings with another important message, a call-in meeting with the Ferrari Public Relations team managers to develop key messages that align with the brand values, sponsor commitments, and team ethos.

With the two stubborn-minded drivers on your team, that part might prove to be difficult.

After that it’s crisis meetings with said drivers, training both Dorian and Azriel on how to efficiently deflect the potential damaging and sensitive questions about what happened in Brazil two weeks ago. Azriel is used to it, and as much as he hates the interview portion of his job, is trained well in answering these types of questions with tact and confidence.

Dorian, on the other hand, is still young and new to the team. The interviewers will no doubt single him out, sniffing out his fresh blood because he’s more likely to make a mistake. You already know that he’s a touch hot-headed when it comes to the obvious rift between the two Ferrari drivers, and if the interviewers pose a question that gives him room to get a word in about Azriel, you have no doubt that he’ll take it, even without realizing exactly how it could impact the team image.

You’re going to make sure that that doesn’t happen.

The rest of the weekend is planned out down to the minute. You’re not even sure you have a single free second to spend with Azriel.

Las Vegas is always exhausting.

“Hey, boss? When do we have some down time this weekend?” Dorian asks, as if he’s somehow reading your mind. You’re dreading this, having to tell a freshly turned twenty-one-year-old in Las Vegas for the first time that he’s not going to be able to go buck-wild. He’ll have to save that for a bye-week or a break. You’re here for business and racing this weekend, not strip-shows and high-hollers tables.

And while he may have an appearance at Omnia night club post-race on Sunday, you’ve tasked yourself with keeping an eye on the rookie, this weekend more so than during the rest of the races this season.

“Unlikely, Havilliard,” you answer, finally looking up from the calendar on your phone. He should really know by now how this all works—it’s race 22 for Mother’s sake—that everything is all work and no play until after the race, but as it’s Dorian’s first year in the big leagues, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt.

It’s been years since you worked with a rookie. You’ve been on Ferrari’s team for a while now, working with Azriel and veteran driver Rowan Whitethorn who accepted an offer from McLaren at the end of last season. It had been bliss, the both of them the most unproblematic drivers on the grid, letting their racing do the talking for them.

But it had been more difficult to get them to talk than you thought. The pair hadn’t been as personable to the world because of their stoic behavior, but when you were hired on, you whipped them into tip-top shape, both drivers the perfect media trained racers within all of Formula 1.

“We’re here for work. You’ll have some time after practice and the race, but Saturday night you’re not to be spotted in any clubs or casinos too late,” you explain, shoving your phone into your back pocket to give him your full attention when you say this. You watch your words settle within Dorian, his shoulders falling more and more as you continue. “You’re not to go overboard. That means no drinking, no gambling, no—”

��Fun?”

You sigh at his disheartened look. Maybe it would be alright if he spent some time with some of the veteran drivers, maneuvering Las Vegas along with them. He’ll find that he can still find fun in moderation. Too bad you know Azriel will cut that idea off at the neck.

“I know it sounds boring, Dorian,” you try easily, giving the young driver a sympathetic look. “It’s your first time in Las Vegas and that’s very exciting, but you really need to think hard about what you’re doing here because there are temptations, but there are so many cameras and eyes on you. If you can handle how things might be construed, you don’t have my blessing, but I can’t force you to sit in your hotel all weekend.”

Something sparks in those deep blue eyes at your hidden message. You’ve warned him and you’re not flat-out telling him that you’ll look the other way, that you’ll clean up a mess for him if he makes it, but he should get to live a little, at least.

You know that he’s unlikely to listen to you anyway, friends with a lot of the other young drivers who are just as excited to be in Las Vegas as Dorian is; Ruhn Danaan, Ithan Holstrom, and Tharion Ketos to name a few, with veteran driver Cassian Bailey taking them all under their wing.

That tiny detail means that you’re going to have your work cut out for you this season.

“You got it, boss,” Dorian salutes, shooting you the most innocent look he can muster.

Behind him, Azriel rolls his eyes, and you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter, “Kiss ass,” under his breath, which both you and Dorian effectively ignore.

You’re proud, he’s already learning.

“Alright, Dorian. You’re up first for bomber jacket media, I have something to talk about with Azriel, but we’ll be down soon. You know where you’re going?” You ask, even though his security detail is awaiting him in the hall outside of the suite.

“Of course,” Dorian nods, passing you with his phone already out in his hand. You give him all of three seconds before he begins posting Instagram stories about the hotel. “Thank you for everything, (Y/N).”

“My pleasure,” you answer, waiting until the door shuts behind him before spinning towards your boyfriend and pinning him with a stern look. “You need to stop being so negative, Az. Dorian is on your team and he’s here to stay, at least for the next two seasons until your contract ends. If you want Ferrari to keep you, the both of you will have to start getting along sooner rather than later, and Dorian is a sweetheart.”

“Not you too,” Azriel groans. “Come on, babe, no one can be that charming.”

You hum, stepping into your boyfriend’s warm body. If this is all the time you’re allowed this weekend, you’re going to take advantage of it. Azriel’s hands find your hips easily, a firm, comforting weight against your skin. “I seem to remember someone else that was quite charming when we met,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss that makes your heart race faster than the speed of his car.

“I was pretty charming, wasn’t I?” Azriel grins, waggling his eyebrows, and you love looking at him like this, happy, when his eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile, the slight dimple in his cheek deepening. He’s so handsome. “Want to go down to the Little White Chapel later and make this official?” Azriel teases and your heart fucking soars, even if he is only poking fun.

Someday the man in your arms won’t be a secret anymore. You’ll be able to flaunt him all over the world, build a life with him, love him not just in the shadows.

“Without a ring?” You joke right back, pinching his side. “I don’t think so, Az.”

“Baby, I’ll get you the biggest ring I can find,” Azriel’s words are husky, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he dips his chin. “I’ll give you the whole damn world, (Y/N). I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, and begin rethinking your refusal to marry him on the strip in Las Vegas without a ring. You’ll take him now, hell, you’ll even marry him in the sequined bomber jacket, you don’t care.

You just want to be his, not in secret anymore.

_________________________________________

Tagging people from the last F1 fic. If you don't want to be tagged just lmk 🥰

@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass @moosemahboi @devilsfoodcake22 @blackthorngirl @brieflyclassymortal @starsdoulikedem @cami26cami @justasillylittlegoofyguy @milswrites @navyblue-eternity @kennedy-brooke @mimsie95 @shadowsingersmate24 @piceous21 @skyjasper @soulessjourney @despoinasstuff @weasleyreidstyles @marrass @favfantasyreads @fairywriter-oracle @georgiastars13 @blueblondi @namelesssav @tothestarsandwhateverend @brekkershadowsinger

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 9

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev. part | next part

Chapter 9 : Grand Prix and Grand Gestures

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: sorry for the long wait for this new chapter, just enjoying my summer yk! anyways, thanks for your guys' continued support and patience! much love!!

Word Count: 5.6k+

When Jenna stepped out of her room at precisely 4:45 AM, with the early morning sun yet to rise, the last thing she expected to find was the shared kitchen to be a mess. 

Courtesy of you, of course. ‘Cause who else?

“What the hell are you doing to our kitchen?” Jenna croaked out, running a hand against the plastered wall as a guide as she tiredly rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the other. When the blurring in her vision goes away, they settle on you looking… wired, like you’d had three cups of espresso already. 

“Good morning!” You whispered, admiring her messy bedhead with a large toothy smile. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Why?” She asked, voice hoarse. You rolled your eyes as you passed her a steaming mug of coffee without a word causing her to flick a brow up, opting to take a sip instead of questioning it. 

“I’m making you breakfast so you don’t go to work hungry, again.” You explained matter-of-factly, turning your back to check on the stove. The younger actress couldn’t stave off her surprise that you’ve noticed her skipping the most important meal of the day. “Now I’m not the best cook. But, I learned a thing or two about making a mean avocado toast, and since you’re vegetarian… it’s really the only thing I can make you.”

Jenna didn’t expect her heart to be racing so early in the morning. Since your talk, the two of you have been more at ease around the other; falling back into that natural banter, every once in a while. But she can’t lie… the friends' agreement has been difficult to follow through with, especially since you’ve started with gestures such as this. 

The younger actress finds she’s started to… allow herself to enjoy these domestic moments with you, knowing that now, feelings are very much reciprocated — just, without a label yet. 

Placing the steaming mug down on the kitchen island, she chose not to comment on how her coffee was made exactly how she liked it. “I appreciate the gesture, Y/N. I hope you didn’t wake up early just to make me breakfast.”

You turned off the stove, took the pan off the burner, and rolled your eyes. “Get off your high horse, I was already up.” Turning around with the pan still in your hand. 

“You were already up or you didn’t go to sleep?” She countered, expression flat.

You smiled sheepishly, “Jet lag is kicking my ass.”

Jenna snorted and watched as you plated the perfectly-browned toast on a dish and spread some avocados on top; garnishing it with the utmost (adorable) concentration on your face before sliding the plate across the island with a small but proud grin. 

“Consider it compliments of the chef,” you send her a playful wink, glancing down. Jenna follows your line of sight, reading the printed words on the apron. 

Kiss the Chef.

She tried to fight the smile creeping on her face but it proved futile when she felt the familiar warmth enveloping her pale morning cheeks. 

“You’re not as smooth as you think you are…” Was the best response the younger actress could trust herself to utter. “When did you even buy that?”

You laughed, picking up your own cup of coffee. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Jenna ignored you, electing to take a bite of the toast. She almost felt bad for eating something that you put so much effort towards. But when she takes a bite, she finds herself letting out a muffled moan, making you flush red at the sound. “Holy shit, what did you put in this?”

Plastering a smile, you teased, “it’s a secret.”

“You’re annoying…” Jenna covered her mouth, as she ate. 

“Finish eating or you’ll be late.” You reminded, taking off the apron. The time zone change still messed with your internal body clock, meaning at times, you’d still be up when Jenna awoke for a day of work.

You noted the times she got up and at which of those mornings she managed to eat. After the third day of her waking up late, you decided that the next day you’d be kind and make her a healthy breakfast, knowing it’s often difficult to find time to eat during a busy day of filming. 

“Wait…” Jenna called out before you could leave the kitchen. “What are you doing today?”

You racked your brain; thinking for a moment. “I gotta start packing for Monaco, I leave this Wednesday.”

Jenna remembered you telling her that you’ve been invited to the F1 Grand Prix. She doesn’t really understand the race, but she found your childlike glee over a bunch of cars… endearing. It’s slightly childish that she feels a bit upset by you leaving so suddenly, but these last few weeks have felt blissful ever since your confession. She finds herself wanting to stay in this bubble the two of you have created for as long as she can. “Oh, right…”

“Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing… just wondering ‘cause my family’s actually flying in this weekend,” Jenna admitted, gauging your reaction, noting the way you stood straighter on your feet.

“They are?” 

Jenna hummed. “Yeah, they’re here for a week. They were gonna stay at a hotel but if you’re going to Monaco then…”

You blinked, unsure if you should ask why she didn’t tell you her family was flying in sooner. “Oh yeah, no problem. Listen, it’s your apartment.” 

Jenna rolled her eyes, correcting you, “It’s our apartment. You’re living here too.”

Chuckling, you averted your eyes. “Well, in that case. Mi casa es su casa.”

“Your Spanish needs a bit of work...” But Jenna can’t fight her smile.

“Rude,” laughing, you added, “it’s probably best to skip town though— your family’s probably still mad at me.”

Jenna immediately rounds the counter to stand in front of you, shaking her head in denial. “They’re not mad, Y/N. I already told you.”

You shoot her a grimaced smile, “I know, I’m just joking, but I’m still scared of your sisters… Also, your mom may or may not have texted me about that paparazzi pic of you smoking cigarettes.”

Her brows raised, as her jaw dropped, “she did?”

You hummed in response.

“Fuck…” She grumbled, causing you to laugh. “What did she say?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard from her Instagram stories…” You smirked, enjoying her annoyed scowl. 

“Shut up.”

“Hey, it’ll be alright.” You placed a hand on her shoulder, lightly rubbing it. Ignoring the way she straightened her posture at your touch. “A scolding is probably the most you’ll get out of her.”

“I’m 20 years old, I can do whatever I want.” Dropping your hand, you laughed again.

“You may think you’re grown but she’s always going to be your mom. She’s just looking out for you. Not to mention, she’s a nurse, what'd you expect?” You jest but she rolled her eyes, staring up at you with a slight pout in her frown causing your heart to stop dead in its tracks; desperately trying to stare at her lips for too long. 

Maybe it was the confession, or the ‘clearing the air’ that you two have done. But every touch and look from Jenna feels weighted — in a pleasant way, this time.

She sighed heavily, leaning her hip on the kitchen island. “I know… it’s just embarrassing.”

“At least you know she cares.” You chuckled, patting her shoulder reassuringly before walking off to the living room. 

She ignored the possible meaning behind your words. Although she’d love to dive into the story of your mom and hear it from your account, maybe having that conversation at five o’clock in the morning isn’t the best idea.

“Come on, finish up and go shower. You’re gonna be late.” You called out behind you before plopping on the couch.

“You better wash those dishes…”

“Ugh, later.” You groaned. “I need a nap.”

—

Jenna (2:35 PM): hope you’re having a great time in Monaco 🖤

“Get off your phone…” Tom said before snatching the device right from your hand. 

“Dude…”

“You’re in Monaco with the best cars and drivers in the entire world and you’re glued to your phone – what’re you looking at anyway.” the Brit commented, reading the text before you could stop him. “Aw… how cute, she sent a heart.”

“Shut up. You literally made us late ‘cause you spent all night talking to Z.” Attempting to grab your phone back was futile when he held it out of reach, tossing it to Link who was enjoying this interaction judging by the large grin smacked on his face. 

“She’s my girlfriend.” Tom defended but it fell on deaf ears as soon as you saw Link begin to scroll through your past messages with Jenna.

“Link… give it back, I need to respond!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll text her back.” Link winked before typing a response. You immediately leapt out of your seat, plucking your phone out of his grasp but it was too late, he’d already sent the message.

“Thinking about you? Really?” You deadpanned despite the warmth coursing fervently through your cheeks. “You’re such an ass…”

“You’re just mad that I finally said what you were really thinking.” He called out as you walked away, fingers slightly trembling as you hit the call button. You wait a few (agonizingly long) seconds, listening to the line ring.

“Hey…” 

“Oh, hey,” there was some shuffling on the other line, “I was just about to text you back.” 

“About that… sorry about that text, Link was being an asshole and took my phone.” You muttered sheepishly; trembling fingers picking at your trousers to counter the nerves that suddenly overcame you.

“Oh? So you weren’t thinking about me?” Her tone is light and teasing. You paint a mental image of her bright, wide smile that usually accompanied her playful taunts; it sent a flurry of butterflies swarming around in your belly.

You pass it off as a stomach ache from your breakfast this morning.

“Come on…” You trail off, not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, I see how it is…”

“Jenna…” You sighed, dropping your fiddling fingers. “Of course, I was thinking about you.”

The line is silent as Jenna doesn’t respond and suddenly you feel embarrassed at your school-girl-like confession. Though it’s technically only been two days since you left London for Monaco, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you were to deny the fact that you’ve been thinking about the younger actress since the moment you stepped out of the shared apartment.

“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Jenna replied in a small voice. Her admittance causes your heart to stop momentarily but what you couldn’t stop, however, was the satisfied smile creeping on your lips.

Was it pathetic that all Jenna had to do was say a simple, cliché sentence to you and you were practically a puddle on the floor? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” 

“Glad we’re on the same page then…” You uttered, glancing around, hoping no one could see your Cheshire grin. Immediately catching Tom and Link at the other end of the balcony making kissing faces at you. You stick up the not-so-nice finger at them before turning your back on the two men, ignoring their blatant and obnoxious laughter, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything when I called.”

Jenna was supposed to be on set working today, you’d hate to interrupt a busy day’s work…. That’s a lie, this phone call was totally worth it.

“Oh no, you didn’t. I’m actually at the apartment.”

“I thought you’d still be on set?”

“Um, about that…” She trails off in a sheepish tone.

“Jen? What’s wrong?” You asked, panic evident.

“I might’ve—uh—injured myself at work today.” She admitted.

“What?! Are you okay? How? Do you need me to come ba—“

“Y/N… breathe.” She interjects your nervous questioning but it merely goes over your head. Your nerves sky-rocketing the longer she doesn’t answer your questions.

“Are you okay?” You repeated what you really needed to know first.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she chuckled, “just a sprained ankle. I twisted it during rehearsal. It’s not a big deal but they sent me home early to rest.”

“Are you icing it? Keeping it elevated? You know what, send me a picture I wanna see if the swelling is bad.” 

Jenna’s laughter doubles. “I’m okay. I promise. Yes, I'm icing it and yes I’m keeping it elevated. You don't have to play doctor. I’ll even send you a picture, just relax.”

“I’m just worried.”

“I know you are.” She said, almost like she was endeared. “But like I said, it’s just a sprained ankle. They gave me crutches, so I’m good.”

“Crutches?! Do I need to come back home?”

Jenna ignored how her heart swooped at the word: home.

“No,” she laughed, “enjoy your time with the boys and your cars. You looked good on that racetrack, you sure being an actress is your calling?”

You rolled your eyes at her choice of timing for a joke, “You know I’ll leave them in a heartbeat. Just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight back.”

On the other end of the line, Jenna is torn between swooning and mentally cursing you for being so sweet. She bit her lip to subdue the smile creeping in, “that’s very sweet, Y/N, but I promise. I’ll be okay, my family’s flying in on Sunday anyway. I’ll be fine until then.”

You sighed unsurely, “Are you sure?” That’s still a few days where she’d have to be alone until someone could help her around the house.

“Yes! Now go, enjoy Monaco. Maybe I’ll even turn on the racing channel or whatever and get a glimpse of you.”

“You did not just say the racing channel…”

“Go!” She laughed and this time, you relent at her assured tone. 

“Fine… but if anything else happens, call me, please?”

“You’ll be the first one to know, I promise.”

“Okay…” You take a deep breath hoping to calm your nerves. If Jenna says she’s okay, then you have no reason to go against her wishes. “I’ll text you?”

“Mhmm. Bye, be safe.”

“Bye…” You hang up, dropping the phone from your ear, anxiously tapping it against your other hand as you contemplate your options.

“That was a long call,” Link swung his arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side. “You already miss your girl? It’s only been a day.”

“Quit it. She’s not my girl.” You back-hand him squarely on the stomach causing him to heave out a rough, pained puff. The satisfaction of seeing your best friend in pain was a dull noise in the background of your restless thoughts. “She injured herself on set, I was just making sure she’s okay.”

You chewed on your lip nervously, ignoring Link’s probing eyes as he scanned your faraway look.

“Is it serious?”

“No, just a sprained ankle.”

Link continued to observe you; seeing straight through you. An amused smile painted itself squarely on his lips. “... you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” 

—

“What the— I told you to stay. What are you doing here?”

“And I told you to send me a picture of your sprain.”

Jenna frowned, closely watching as you slipped the duffle bag off your shoulders; landing on the hardwood with a loud thud. 

“Get back on the couch. You shouldn’t be walking.” You ordered, briefly scanning her head-to-toe and letting out a concealed sigh of relief that her ankle didn’t seem too bad. 

“I’m injured, not crippled.” She replied unamused. You meet her eyes, mimicking her expression until the brunette realized you’re not backing down. “Fine…”

“Let me help you.” You stepped forward, taking a closer look at her injury. Her left ankle was covered in a compression wrap as she hobbled around with a single crutch. 

“I’m fine.”

“Jenna, let me help.” You said in a serious tone, not backing down.

She rolled her eyes, slowly turning around with her crutch to walk back to the living room, hoping you missed her rosy cheeks. She ignored the intense thudding in her chest as you walked together. The thought of you leaving a trip that obviously meant a lot to you, sent the younger actress’ heart into a frenzy. 

“What are you doing here?” The younger actress asked again once she was comfortably seated on the sofa.

You took a seat beside her, “I was worried.”

“I told you I was fine, you’re acting like I’m on my deathbed.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the pillow behind you and placed it between you and Jenna. Scooting back to gesture for her to rest the injured ankle on the pillow. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed the race knowing that you’re back in London with an injury… so, I left.”

Jenna stayed silent, not trusting herself to say what she was really feeling. So she opted to stare as you examined her wrapped ankle, seemingly satisfied that her injury wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

“I’m just trying to be a good friend… and roommate.” You joked, grabbing the discarded remote off the coffee table. Ignoring the way your skin burned the longer she stared at you unspeaking.

Jenna snorted at your words, grabbing the pillow behind her and playfully lunging it at you. You caught the feeble attempt. “Right, roommate.”

You laughed at the tone that accompanied her words, “how did you hurt yourself anyway?”

If Jenna’s cheeks turned any rosier, she’d be the human embodiment of a tomato. It was embarrassing, really and she blames Aliyah for sending that video. 

She might’ve been too distracted watching a clip of you and Tom walking along the racetrack, waving to the crowd. As luck would have it, she was supposed to be rehearsing for a scene, walking over to her next marking. However, one misstep over a wire sent her ankle twisting in an abnormal way. “I wasn’t paying attention to the marking on the floor and I tripped over a loose wire.”

Jenna was definitely not going to tell you the truth. You’d never let her hear the end of it.

You sent her a questioning look, “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad.”

“Is it too late for you to go back to Monaco?” She joked, straight-faced.

“I’m kidding, of course, I feel bad.“ You settled back into a comfortable position.

“How did you get back so fast?” She inquired.

“It’s only a two-hour flight.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Jenna noted that you were on the phone merely two and a half hours ago. “You got through security that fast?”

You blush red.

As soon as the jet landed on the tarmac and the seatbelt lights turned off, you were posted by the doors; impatiently tapping your foot on the floor.

“Miss L/N, your driver is waiting just outside.” The flight attendant alerted you. You nodded, sending a tight-lipped smile.

“Thank you.”

When the doors opened and the stairs hit the pavement, you were already rushing down the steps, making eye contact with the driver.

“Miss, I can take your bags.”

“That’s alright.” You tossed them in the back seat before shutting the doors. “How fast can you get back to the apartment?”

“GPS says 45 minutes but there is heavy traffic on the highway.” 

“I’ll drive.” You held your hand out. He looked unsure before seeing that you were not playing around, swiftly handing the keys over.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You made sure to tip the man handsomely after noticing his white-knuckle grip on the grab handles as you maneuvered through said traffic.

“Uh yeah and I got lucky, no traffic. Anyways….wanna watch Breaking Bad? Unless you finished it already, in that case, we can watch something else.” You changed the subject, Jenna didn’t need to know how you drove that SUV like it was a race car and broke multiple speeding laws just to get here.

“No, Breaking Bad is good. I haven’t watched it since we were at my parents' house.”

You turn, evidently surprised that she kept your unspoken promise. Trying to hide your growing smile, you face the TV again before the staring becomes too obvious.

“Me too.”

—

“Are you sure you’re fine to go to work today? It’s only been like, a day.”

It’s Sunday morning, too early for anyone to be awake. With the sky still covered in a blanket of darkness, you tiredly lean against the wall, trying your best to string coherent words together as you reason with Jenna, who lightly limped around the large room as she gets ready for work.

“Technically, it’s been two.” She glanced at you momentarily. “I don’t want to delay production.” 

“Jenna, you're injured. They can get a stand-in or just not film your scenes today.” You argued. Having had your fair share of on-set injuries, you knew that a major film could afford to delay filming for the sake of an injury. This was merely Jenna’s workaholic tendencies making her feel that she couldn’t stop working. “They can and should accommodate for you, Jenna.”

At your gruffed tone, Jenna dropped what she was looking for, walking over to stand in front of you. “Hey…”

You glanced at your hands, ignoring her soft tone. “Look at me, please?”

Jenna grabbed your hand, drawing your attention to her. “I’ll be okay. If my ankle starts to bother me, I’ll let the director know.”

“You promise?” You asked, glancing down when she started rubbing soft lines against your skin.

“I promise.” She squeezed for good measure.

You studied her soft gaze, attentive to the assured glimmer behind them. Letting out a sigh, you pushed your worries aside. “Okay.”

She smiled at your obvious concern, dropping your hand to walk back to the living room. 

You try not to draw attention to the way your fingers twitched at the loss of contact. “By the way, my family will be here at noon. Are you good to be alone with them while I’m at work?”

“Yeah… I think I’ll be fine.” To distract yourself, you walked off to the kitchen, grabbing a mug for your morning coffee; allowing a gentle silence to envelop the room as Jenna hobbled around and gathered her things.

“Crap!” Jenna suddenly said, emerging out of her room.

“What?” You turned, slightly startled. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to set up the guest bedroom for them.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders dropped. “I already did it, don’t worry.”

Her brows raised, “you called the housekeeper already?”

“No. I did it myself. We don’t need him.”

Jenna seemed surprised if the raised brows were anything to go by. It was amusing truly, but you elected to stay silent, turning back to make your coffee.

“Thank you…” She finally said.

“Don’t mention it.” You shrugged, “If you want, I can pick up your family at the airport too. Heathrow is a bitch to navigate.”

Jenna didn’t respond, just staring at your back from her spot in the living room. You were unaware of her internal turmoil.

“Jen?” You turned around when you realized she didn’t reply; just staring at you with an unwavering intensity. “Jenna?”

“What?” She blinked a couple of times. “What did you say?”

“I said I can pick up your family from the airport.” You sipped on the steaming mug, a single brow flicking upright in question.

“Oh–uh, no. T-That’s alright, I’m sending a car over to pick them up.” She stuttered pathetically; grateful that the dim lights from the lamp in the corner of the room did well to hide the crimson rising over her neck. “You shouldn’t be seen at Heathrow. You might get spotted.”

“I can wear a disguise.” You thought out loud.

Jenna snorted, pushing away her inner strife. “Oh yeah? Like what, a baseball hat and sunglasses?”

“Hey, it works!” You defended. “Not everyone can just blend in with their height.”

“Was that a short joke?” Jenna arched a sharp brow.

“Nope.” You stood wide-eyed. “Oh hey, I just remembered I left something in my room. Okay. Bye. Have a good day at work.”

Jenna laughed as you scurried off to your bedroom, glad that she hasn’t lost her edge with you.

—

“I can’t believe you cancelled on the driver.” 

The younger actress said as soon as you swung the front door open. Faintly, she can hear the familiar sounds of laughter farther into the apartment. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You act like that’s a new fact.” You snicker, a pleased smile plastered on your lips. “I’d like an apology by the way. The disguise worked perfectly — just like I said it would.”

“You’re too much sometimes.” She shook her head, stepping into the hall. 

“In the best way, though. Right?” You asked, letting her in.

“If it helps you sleep better.” Jenna shrugged, chucking her work bag on the side table.

“Now look who’s being stubborn.” You replied with a knowing smile.  “Go say hi and then wash up. Natalie and I are making dinner.”

She raised her brows in surprise as you walked away. Her footsteps faltering when she walks into the living room. Gaze instantly landing on her sisters and Dad lounging on the couch, in the corner of her eyes she finds her mom who was chopping up vegetables on the kitchen island. 

“Hey, guys…” She said slowly, still taking the scene in front of her.

“Jen!” Mia sprung up from her seat and tugged her sister into a tight hug. 

One by one, Aliyah, her dad and her mom sauntered over to greet and fret over her. Sentiments of I miss you, echoing in the vast apartment.

“It’s good to see you, honey.” Her mom said with a smile. “I hope you’ve been taking care of that ankle.”

Jenna rolled her eyes at her Mom’s fretting but nodded reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mom. Y/N’s been helping me.”

“So I’ve heard.” She winked, walking away.

“Uh– you guys made yourselves comfortable…” Jenna cleared her throat as she watched how her mom swiftly walked back to the kitchen where you were leaning against the island, observing her family with a small smile.

“Y/N said to make yourselves at home. Blame her.” Aliyah said, tugging her onto the couch. “How’s filming been? How’s working with Winona Ryder, tell me everything!”

“Great uh–what’s for dinner?” Was the first question the actress asked, too distracted by watching your concentrated expression. The slight scrunch in your forehead as you closely listened to her mom’s instructions was more interesting than what her sister was asking her.

“Mom’s teaching her how to make frijoles.” Mia smirked at her sister’s doe-eyed look. 

“Oh…” Jenna replied with a vacant tone. “Sounds good.”

“Do you have any pictures in your wardrobe—“

“Why frijoles?” She added, interrupting Aliyah when she tried to spark another series of questions.

“Y/N heard it was one of your favourites, said she wanted to learn how to make it for you.” Mia replied, her tone smug.

“She did?” Jenna’s brow raised, still unable to look away from you. 

“I think we lost her,” Aliyah sighed to Mia, giving up on having her questions answered.

Jenna rolled her eyes when her sisters burst into laughter, blinking back to reality. “Shut up. What were you saying?” 

She forced herself to look away and give her undivided attention to her sisters. Pretending not to notice as you kept glancing at her from the kitchen.

—

“Wow this looks amazing, are you sure you helped, Y/N?” Aliyah teased from the dining table.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” You mocked, walking over with a bowl of guacamole, placing it at the centre of the table. “Wait ‘till you try my guac.”

“I always make the that.” Jenna trailed off, sneaking a peek at the bowl.

“I know.” You took your seat beside her. “Your mom showed me how you like to make it. I hope it’s close.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that…” She reached for a chip and dipped a large chunk into the green goodness. You watched intently for a reaction but she gave you none; continuing to chew on. 

“It’s good.” She finally says.

“That’s it?”

“What? I said it’s good.” Jenna laughed at your sullen expression; almost feeling bad. Once your bottom lip popped out in disappointment, she dropped her act, reaching for your arm and squeezing it. “I’m kidding. It’s great, it tastes exactly how I make it back home… but you know, you can’t beat the original.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” You repeated her words.

Before Jenna can reply with a quip, her mom walked over with the last bowl of food, disrupting your conversation. But it was all forgotten when the younger actress’ nose welcomed the familiar scent of all of her favourite dishes. She enthusiastically eyed the various dishes scattered on the table, not having had her family’s cooking in what felt like forever. Living with you wasn’t bad – actually, it’s been more than great, but you were serious when you said you lacked skills in the kitchen. That resulted in dinners mostly being take-out these days.

“Have you tried frijoles before?” Jenna asked you. 

“Uh–no.” You blushed. “I actually didn’t even know they were beans until today.”

“You’ll love it.” She grinned, reaching over to plate you a generous helping. You refused to tell her that you didn’t necessarily love beans because her excited expression overpowered any dislike you had for the legume.

—

“You’re still up?” You called out after a brief glance, the pitter-patter of light footsteps coming down the hall, alerting you of her presence.

“Mhm, I heard the clanking of dishes from my room.” She replied, leaning against the counter, watching as you dried off the dishes one by one. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry. I’ll keep it down.” You grimaced apologetically. “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d unload the dishes.”

“It’s okay, I’m actually not too tired too.” She stepped forward, only an arm’s length away from you. “Can I help?”

Wordlessly, you passed her a dry cloth and a bowl from the dishwasher. For a while, silence enveloped the room. You were grateful that you and the brunette can exist in silence, sometimes. Her mere presence provided a certain level of comfort that you’re still trying to get used to.

“So…” She spoke up after a few minutes, gaining your attention. “You’re really pulling out all the stops, huh.”

You raise an amused brow at the baiting look in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jenna would’ve believed that statement if it weren’t for the small smile at the corner of your lips telling her otherwise.

“Right… so, you just pick up all your friends’ parents from the airport and do chores, willingly.”

“I’m turning over a new leaf.” You shrugged, continuing to wipe away remnants of water from the plate. Hoping the mundane action hid your trembling fingers well.

“Oh, are you?”

“Yup.”

“So this isn’t you trying to win me over?”

“Me try to win you over? Whaaat?” You puffed out an airy scoff, “that’s ridiculous. I would never. I wholeheartedly respect your decision.” 

But the crinkle in your eyes told her that you were enjoying this way too much.

“Sure…” Jenna rolled her eyes, “even if you are just doing this out of the kindness of your own heart—“

“Which, I am.”

Jenna sends a playful glower at your interruption. 

“Just wanted to put that on record.” You added.

“Thank you.” Jenna declared, her tone soft yet serious. “You’ve been incredible these last few days.”

“Oh.” You blink, a pleased smile plastered on your face. “You’re welcome, Jen. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me.” The bowl and cloth in her hands were long forgotten on the counter as she closed the distance between you. “No one’s ever done any of… this, for me—thank you.”

The air feels charged as she suddenly looks at you with that doe-eyed stare. Feeling like your heart rate instantly doubles, the longer she stares at you like that.

“What? Be nice?” You said evenly, “You need to set your standards higher.”

She huffed at your antics. “I’m being serious.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” you laughed shakily, trying to gather some semblance of control over your racing pulse. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, Jen… cause I’d do anything for you.”

She blinked, voice caught in her throat she took in the serious glint in your eyes; voice dripping with conviction 

“And this isn’t me trying to win you over. You’ll know when I do.”

The younger actress’ body feels like it’s on fire the longer she listens to your words. 

“Uh, sorry, too much?” You said apologetically when she remained unspeaking. 

But Jenna was already shaking her head, a faraway look in her eyes that you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“No…” She murmured, her sight drifting down to your lips before they flicker back up to your eyes. “Not at all.”

“Okay…” Your gaze bore intently into hers, waiting to see if she’ll make the first move. “Good.”

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker back down for a second time but then she’s blinking out of her self-induced stupor, “um–I should go to sleep. I need to be up early.” Jenna hoped her ogling on your soft lips wasn’t too obvious. 

She steps back and almost instantaneously, the tension in the room dissipates with each movement she takes. 

You nod, smiling softly despite the slight tinge of disappointment you felt; knowing that you shouldn’t rush into this with her. “Good idea, you should rest your ankle… good night, Jenna.”

Just before you turned back to grab the discarded dry cloth, Jenna takes a hesitant step—before she can lose her nerve and leaned up to plant her lips on the pad of your cheek.

Your brain felt like it short-circuited; not having felt her lips in forever as your skin burned against the delicate contact.

“Good night, Y/N.” She whispered, her soft lips grazing your cheek in a way that drove you crazy.

Before your brain could rewire itself well enough to form a response, Jenna was already turning around to retreat back to her room.

Biting your lip to contain the growing smile, you couldn’t look away from her figure until she disappeared behind the door.

Shit…

You’re in deeper than you thought.

——

if there was any mistakes… look away (i tried my best 🧍‍♀️)

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[noneorother]

The grand unified theory of Good Omens S2, Hangs on a double meaning - Answering why .5 + .5 = 25 lazerii *The end?*

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l The end?

Welcome to the end of the Bonkers Meta Series featuring your favourite Art Director/Clue detective. This is it! I'm going to wrap up this series as well as I can with what I think really happened, the final 15 and why Crowley says the things he says. Meta, Spoilers, Beware! All that. “Armageddon only happens once, you know. They don't let you go around again until you get it right.” 

If you've read my Metatron post you'll know that I thought there were *at least* two time loops with tweaks to achieve different outcomes, seeing as we seemed to be presented with two versions of events a lot of the time, two similar lines of dialogue, double meanings for lines etc etc. If you want a really good recap of a lot of the Clues that have already been compiled already you can go through them here. Yesterday I added my own : The columns in front of the bookshop get stained by a demon, and the stain stays and goes. But why do we care?

Here's my final thesis using the context I'll put together below :

The Metatron is changing the past and the present on earth using the book of life. He's forced a time loop of the last few days at least 50 times over a period of (realtime) months to get the outcome he wants : the separation of Aziraphale and Crowley to allow him to complete the second coming. It only worked once. Let me explain.

1) Not time skips, but stitched loops

My theory about the columns goes like this : a demon touches the right column in the attack on the bookshop, and dirties it. The problem is, in every episode we get multiple versions of the column that are dirtier or cleaner. Why? Because a demon has been touching that column in *more or less* the same place and getting it dirty over time, but the effects on the bookshop only layer every loop and reset, instead of being erased. The layering aspect is super important and I'll get back to it. For now, if we take it that the column gets dirtier over many loops, we now know what we are seeing : a bunch of different time loops stitched together to create a sense of time moving forward in a way that we can understand the story, but that skip forward and backward through the loops. Cleaner column = earlier loop. Here's discussion about clock hands if you want evidence, some even saying the hour hand seems to be going backwards in the first episode or the last, or even that the minute and hour hands must be backwards to make sense. If we think of time skipping ever forward and actions getting deleted (as some have said), then clocks going backwards makes no sense. But if we think about it as a time loop where things and actions are ever being tweaked and changed, then OF COURSE the times won't make sense anymore. People don't show up at the same time if they don't do the same thing they did before. The biggest time discrepancies I've seen in a single scene are A) Crowley's phone and watch being an hour apart in S2E1 and B) Inside the bookshop between Gabriel's fly flashback in S2E6 and him and Beez holding hands, there's an hour difference on the clock. I think that by the time we get to very late loops, some things are happening up to an hour later in the day. A simple example we are shown up top is the Eccles cakes. They are there in the first part of S2E1, but then they are no longer there somewhere along the way. In the first loop we see an ordering action/receiving Eccles cakes action, which takes *longer* than just not doing that and going straight to the shop, so that loop will be slightly later. It gets infinitely more complicated the more loops you are looking at, and we have at least 50 of them. How do I know that?

2) A 25 lazerii miracle

If we know that effects on the bookshop are cumulative and don't reset (because columns), then let's try this idea on for size : Aziraphale and Crowley have been performing the same half miracles on the same spot for 50+* loops, and each times they are layering and getting stronger. .5 demon + .5 angel = .5 angelic miracle x 50*ish loops = 25 lazerii miracle goes off in heaven on the latest loop. Shax then confronts Crowley in his car about a mighty miracle, so we're in a loop here where we've layered quite a lot, but not the last loop because he still has the original glasses/ *but also* Crowley's sideburns are long. Compare it to the scene directly after, and how sunny and bright it is. We're in a later loop and and earlier loop simultaneously.

3) Crowley's been testing So I've been searching for a *reason* that Crowley wears a turtleneck in S2E2 and thren new glasses and changes sideburns, and he seems to be up to some pretty crafty spy stuff, seeing as 1) he seems thrilled by it, and 2) he won't shut up about it (How will our hero cope? Jane Austen, nasty piece of work, master spy) There's also this Clue :

Crowley has a secret, as we know everyone with their hands deliberately in their pocket does in the series. I think Crowley knows before Aziraphale that something is wrong, because he's getting little snippets of memory and feeling, and so he's going off to try and change things about himself, the Bentley and the shop to remind himself in the next loop and leave himself clues or change outcomes if he fails to escape. In the early loops it seems like a fun spy mission, but by the end he's pretty tired and jaded that he doesn't seem to be making any headway on his own.

It *also* explains him throwing books and canapés on the floor in the bookshop to see if it changes in other versions. The problem being that Gabriel keeps cleaning everything up and reorganizing the titles to Crowley can't tell if it's his system or not. (lolsob)

It makes this line seem like he can't fit the loop pieces together anymore, and is trying to make headway without any information, rather than a pre-fall reference.

And this line probably much later in the loops (New sunglasses, long sideburns) :

Okay so! To recap : Everyone gets reset every time, and they make different choices because of past and present edits. But, most heavenly and hellish things don't obey earth laws, and therefore things like miracles start layering, and memories start seeping through the loops. (Point 4 is optional but absolutely hilarious, so I'd like to think it's worth speculating about)

4. The flaw in The Metatron's plan

There's a huge flaw in The Metatron's plan however, and it's that Heaven and Hell don't work like earth does. He's spent so many loops trying to get the result he wants, that he doesn't know that something crazy is *also* happening in hell. Every loop, Shax is emptying out the legions of demons until they barely have enough low level lackeys to go up at all. Hell is understaffed because no new people come into hell in the loop from earth, and they're sending all the demons that aren't subject to the reset into battle. This isn't a negotiation, it's a montage.

So the attack on the bookshop isn't one attack, but waves, and the waves get less powerful each loop. Stitched loops would also explain why Shax now hands Crowley his mail again in the last attack after *just* handing it to him on the park bench, like, 4 days ago in an earlier loop.

I don't have evidence for this directly, but if The Metatron put Maggie together with Nina successfully only in the last few loops, then she's fighting in the bookshop only a few times, and doesn't invite the demons in any other times, which might be why the only evidence is the column, and not books being ruined. But, it might also explain why the demon Eric gets discorporated a bunch of times in a row, he's doing it later and later in each loop. (These are kind of contradictory thoughts, I know.)

5. Aziraphale realizes too late. When I wrote part 4 of this series I was pretty awed by the fact that Aziraphale managed to figure out the Metatron was rewriting things after only hearing him say ONE LINE of dialogue. However after more thought, I think that he's been getting close to the truth a bunch of times by communicating with Crowley in previous loops. In each successive loop he tells Crowley later and later, and it's been getting them reset as punishment each time they figure it out together. By the end they barely communicate at all, because they can feel the danger. Watch his reaction here, in what we can assume is a *very late or last loop (because of the time on the clock)*

He stops himself from interrupting and telling Crowley something important he's just realized : that he's seen Gabriel and Beez get together before. "I know what this means..." 6. Saraqael is helping both sides without them knowing We see Saraquael helping Crowley immediately with the trial when she finds him in heaven. Why would she help Crowley without having ever met him before as a demon? The exchange of "Crowley I remember you, we worked on the Hosehead nebula together" and "I meet a lot of people, (*he doesn't say* I don't remember you)" is a code. They are both trying to communicate what they remember like spies on a bench in St.James park. Who recognizes who, who's trying to stop this madness. Maybe once Crowley gets to heaven this time he's seen multiple trials with multiple endings, and Saraquael has seen them too, I don't really know. BUT she's also communicating with Aziraphale at one point. Look at Saraqael in this scene again about the 25 lazerii miracle. She *remembers the book slap* and then the *looks* at Aziraphale in regards to Gabriel.

Yeah Gabriel, IT NEVER F*&?%ING WORKS IN ANY LOOP SO STOP DOING IT. - Saraquel, probably. Are Saraqael and Aziraphale testing later/earlier in the loops as well? Is this when the miracle was weaker? Who knows! 7. The Metatron job offer was many, many offers

It's really hard to tell with all the pieces of the puzzle moving around, but I think I can count 7 job refusal loops by Aziraphale in the last fifteen minutes. Here's a summary 1) Chinwag with Crowley in the room 2) We should go for a walk instead, here's a coffee 3) You don't have to answer immediately 4) Go tell you friend the good news (This is the important one), it's the last one where he tries to convince Crowley to come with him 5) I need to take care of my bookshop 6) The Metatron puts Muriel in charge of the bookshop, but Aziraphale wants to take something with him 7) Aziraphale straight up runs out to Crowley with "I think I-" 4, again) The Metatron takes him out of the bookshop. "Ready to start"?

Trying to screenshot all that would be insane, so just go rewatch it with all this in mind, and look at how the lighting changes inside of the bookshop and the jump cuts to different angles, and how his face resets every time. It's HEARTBREAKING. 8. The argument

I'm so blown away by the acting and writing (as well as the art direction) in this show, and it all comes to a head in the final argument. Many important lines have double meanings in series 2, because everyone is trying to speak in secret code to not get caught. Especially in the final loops.

In the last loops, we have an Aziraphale who is moving ever closer towards accepting the Metatron's offer, with the straw that broke the camel's back being he could restore Crowley as an angel**/save him; and Crowley who is moving ever farther away, by having to hide all of his Clue gathering, and confiding less and less to Aziraphale in each loop.

Check out the double meanings going on in this whole exchange if you consider that they are trying to save each other using secret codes neither one of them can hear. It's so shattering. Especially when you consider they've probably made it to this argument at least twice, and Crowley convinced him the first time. Why do I say that, you ask? 9. No Nightingales

Because I think Crowley remembers a loop where A Nightingale Sang was playing when they kissed, and Aziraphael didn't leave, but he knows they aren't in that version anymore. 10) I'm a demon, I lied. I'll probably post more abut the secondary characters because Shax, Furfur, Michael, Uriel and Nina etc all have roles to play, but for now, this is it.

----------------------------------------- Thanks so much for reading the gigantic post. If you disagree with my thoughts, or think this is terribly wrong, that's totally fine! I won't be offended. Without a real season 3, everything is just ether. Fingers crossed. I'd also like to thank The Ineffable Detective Agency, @embracing-the-ineffable, @cobragardens, @indigovigilance, @yowlthinks and more for inspiring me and feeding my brain with posts. *Loop numbers could actually be 25+ if you think that .5 demon mircales + .5 angelic miracles pour register as 1 whole miracle in heaven, I just didn't want to go into that in the main review. **The Metatron's meddling in the past seems to me trying very much to highlight to Aziraphale how *good* and righteous Crowley is, despite being a demon, in order to convince Aziraphale that joining him in heaven is a real possibility, and he should push for it.

[teamatsumu]

What if the Seireitei had a Human Resources Department? And what if you were in charge?

Summary: With the kind of antics these shinigami get up to every day, it was only a matter of time before the higher ups felt the need to create an HR Department to deal with the day to day messes. Here’s a little drabble about how it all started

Word Count: 2,062

Warnings: swearing, bad humor, mentions of violence

next part

Sometimes it was hard to believe that the gods didn't have it out for you. Especially when you ended up in situations like this against your will and through no fault of your own.

The corridor was completely silent despite the amount of people that it held. It’s almost like everyone knew how fucked they were, and they were praying with every fiber in their bodies that somehow, they would not get killed at the hands of the Captain Commander today.

You stared at the large “1” written on the wooden doors in front of you, hands clasped so tightly in your lap that your knuckles turned white. Your heart was beating so hard it almost hurt your ribcage. Next to you on the bench, Ikkaku shuffled, and you resisted the urge to deck him across the face. He was injured enough as it was. And frankly, no punch you could land on him would do any good. You had zero hurting power in your body.

Once again, you wondered which otherworldly spirit you had pissed off to get where you were.

Squad 4 was supposed to be a safe choice. You had asked to be put in it for a reason when you graduated. Far, far away from the fighting and pain. No conflict. Just helping people, healing injuries and staying inside where there were no battles. You would take any amount of scut work over whatever the hell those other divisions got up to. And you were good at your job. You handled medical emergencies well, you were a boss at getting through paperwork. Lieutenant Isane would cry tears of joy at the sight of you almost daily since you were singlehandedly keeping the admin side of the division afloat on your own.

So why did it have to come to this?

After what seemed like an eternity, the wooden door cracked open with a deafening sound and a head poked through it. The Shinigami’s eyes scanned the crowd outside until they fell on you. You felt your throat knot. He gestured for you to come to him before disappearing behind the door again.

You stood up on shaky legs, deliberately trying not to look at everyone around you who was now staring at you with pity in their eyes, no doubt. You unintentionally caught eyes with Captain Kuchiki, a calm slate gray that seemed to settle your nerves just a bit. He gave you an almost imperceptible nod, and some strength returned to your legs. You were grateful he was there, despite him not having any involvement in the situation.

Well, it was his Lieutenant on the line so maybe some involvement.

The Shinigami led you down a long hallway silently, your almost numb legs following behind. You felt like a baby deer with how unsteady you were. What were baby deers called again? Foals? You had no clue. Your mind was fried at this point. You tried to send a short prayer to the gods above, but then you remembered they were the ones who put you here in the first place so maybe praying to them wouldn’t be too good of an idea.

The Captain Commander certainly had an air about him. The table he sat behind in his office made him look grand. The office was almost like a balcony, overlooking a magnificent view of the Seireitei that you would have loved to admire under less precarious circumstances. You kept your eyes on the desk he was seated at, bowing low and standing straight as a rod until the Shinigami who brought you there had shut the door behind him with a click that echoed in your very soul. Then, it was silent.

Yamamoto Genryuusai was looking at you with a hard stare. You felt the horrifyingly embarrassing urge to burst into tears.

“Explain.” He said.

What came next was the worst word vomit known to mankind.

It had started two days ago, as festivities for New Years were just beginning to unravel. You had been on night duty, a post you wouldn't wish on anyone. Holidays almost always ended up with someone landing in the Squad 4 barracks with injuries. A bunch of drunk soldiers with weapons and the ability to fight felt like a disaster waiting to happen. But what happened next was ten times worse than what anyone was anticipating.

The fight was pretty standard. Some drunk Squad 3 member had thought it would be a good idea to taunt Squad 11 members by calling them brainless idiots who only knew how to swing a sword. It was a fist fight that escalated when Yumichika and Ikkaku stepped in. Somewhere in the commotion, someone had broken a bottle of sake on Yumichika’s face.

This, of course, caused a complete meltdown on Yumichika’s part, who could feel the cuts on his face that would potentially leave scars. He lost his shit and proceeded to beat the crap out of everyone around him. A very, very drunk Ikkaku and accompanying Renji thought that was the best solution in their alcohol-addled minds. The rest was history.

What had landed into Squad 4 was over 20 extremely injured Shinigami, a flurry of broken limbs and blood. The biggest issue was that this had involved a Lieutenant and two seated officers. Once Captain Unohana got wind of it, it was all over. This kind of violence wouldn't fly under the strict Captain’s nose, and she had reported the whole matter to the Captain Commander. That immediately put Captain Zaraki and Captain Kuchiki’s asses on the line since it was their officers involved, and since you had been the attending who received every case in Squad 4, you were asked to report to the Captain Commander for a full explanation on the matter the following morning.

That morning, extremely hungover Ikkaku and Yumichika had shown up at your barracks, pleading with you to save them. Apparently their Captains had been furious, and both of them were being considered for a major demotion. And Renji? Lord, Captain Kuchiki would make sure Renji never saw the light of day again.

While you made them tea to try and stave off their headaches, Yumichika had given you an honest recounting of the whole situation, and it made your heart soften. They really had just been there to break apart a fight before Yumichika’s face got involved. And as you looked at his bandaged face, knowing full well the extent of the damage underneath, (you had been the one to heal him after all) you felt your heart swell in pity.

So you had agreed to the impossible task of trying to make them appear like the victims in this situation. In front of the fucking Captain Commander. What were you thinking? Curse your empathy and curse the fact that you had somehow befriended these people.

“So according to you, Fifth seat Ayasegawa was there to break up the fight?” Captain Commander Yamamoto’s voice was grumbly and low.

You nodded. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of your face and you were breathing hard. You twisted your fingers behind your back, jaw locked so tight it made your teeth hurt.

“You realize he was singlehandedly responsible for incapacitating 11 out of the 20 injured men?”

You closed your eyes. Fucking Yumichika. That fucker.

“He only responded to an extremely hateful and violent attack on himself, sir. He was not the instigator. As the healer who received him in Squad 4 barracks, I can guarantee that his condition was horrifying.”

“So you agree with his decision to retaliate the way he did?”

You shook your head immediately. “No, sir. I do not agree with it, but in the uh, inebriated state everyone was in at the time, including the sight of his comrades injured and charged comments against his Squad, I can understand why he acted the way he did.”

The Captain Commander appraised you under a weighted stare which made you gulp heavily.

“You have an admirable track record, Sixth Seat Y/L/N.”

What? You blinked, not knowing how to respond. He knew about you. Well, of fucking course he did. He couldn't have summoned you here with no knowledge of who you were. But being referred to by him unnerved you.

“Your account for the event of New Years Eve is very diplomatic.” He continued. “If I go off on what you have told me, I am left with no one to blame this whole situation on. It seems this will just be written off as an unfortunate accident.”

You nearly bawled.

The Captain General closed the file in front of him, leaning back and placing his chin on his bony knuckles. His eyes fell shut, yet you felt he was closely watching your every move.

“You may leave. And inform everyone that they will receive a written warning for their involvement. You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”

You nodded and bowed instantly, turning around to walk out of the office. When the door shut behind you, you choked on a gasp and keeled forward, resting your hands on shaky knees. Fuck. Fuck. That was so intense you could cry. You would cry, actually. The tears were coming on. You sniffled.

Someone cleared their throat and your head shot up, looking at the Shinigami who had led you here. He gave you a look that told you he knew how you felt, before gesturing you to follow him out.

On numb, trembling legs, you walked out of the Squad 1 barracks, immediately being greeted by all the parties in question. Ikkaku,Yumichika and Renji crowded you, looking at you with hopeful eyes. You looked at the half bandaged and swollen faces in front of you and felt the horrifying urge to laugh.

“You all will get an official warning. No lasting consequences.” You managed to choke out.

The air that lifted at your words left behind an atmosphere so light it nearly made you collapse, you swayed a little as you sat down on the bench, watching Renji collapse in relief while Yumichika slumped into a wooden pillar. Ikkaku was looking up at the sky like he had just received redemption from the gods themselves. You held back more laughter.

Captain Zaraki let out a heavy sigh and stretched, patting you on the head with a heavy hand in his show of thanks before shuffling off, hands deep in his pockets. Captain Kuchiki sat next to you on the bench smoothly, staring at his Lieutenant with disdain.

“I must thank you.” He said, not looking at you. “I was convinced this would end poorly. You have surprised me, Sixth Seat Y/L/N. And I assume you surprised the Captain General too. I have not known him to be lenient in the years I have worked in the Gotei 13.”

You stared at the Captain as he got up once again, each move as pristine as the last. He walked over to Renji and let out a pained breath at the sight of his Lieutenant.

“Stand, Renji. You will still face the punishment I have set for you.” He stated simply before turning to walk away.

“Yes, Captain.” Renji’s voice was small and muffled. The corner of your lip twitched.

Yumichika sidled over to where you sat, tears in his one visible eye.

“I love you.” He breathed, making you snort.

“I want you to stay as far away from me as possible from now on.” You stood up, feeling better now after seeing the relief your friends felt. You were of course, being dramatic. But you were sincerely so drained you wouldn’t mind sleeping for a week.

And sleep you did. In fact, you had completely forgotten the Captain General’s words until the next morning, when a Shinigami showed up at your barracks with a letter in his hand. You stared at it in confusion until you saw the name of the addressor on the envelope. Your eyes widened and your heart fell out of your ass as you remembered the words.

“You will receive a letter too, but of a different nature.”

With trembling fingers, you tore through the paper, frantic eyes trying to make sense of what you were reading. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What the fuck is a Human Resources Department?”

A/N: Should i make this into a series? Im contemplating it. Pls let me know!

[multifandomfanatic02]

"You didn't know, pt.1"

Pairing: Alastor x fem!OC?? (pulled the name out of a hat honestly)

Warning: mentions of r*pe, detailed murder,

Summary: it was never mentioned as to why Alastor turned to murder. Maybe it could have been because he lost someone important to him? Who knows really?

a/n: I tried my best to stick to Alastor's character and respect his sexuality. If you think this needs any improvement or if you have some kind criticism, please let know! And if this liked enough I'll make a part two! (itsbeentwelveyearssinceihavewrittenanythingpleasebenice)

Spring of 1915

Alastor had been a victim of his mother's matchmaking since he was seventeen. Seven dates have been attempted in 5 years total.

No, he was more focused on his occupation as a writer. What Alastor was truly in love with, the smooth jazz that blessed his ears, to the dancing, the books. He was clearly an art enthusiast. And there was one artist's work he admired more than anything. Lillian Fletcher. She was a high position in a very popular magazine and newspaper. Decided what was trendy and what wasn't. While her job is more in the line of sales, Lillian's colleagues agree to let her put her own articles in them. They get hella cash flow.

Crazy as it is, no one has seen what she looked like. When conferences with celebrities happen, it's like she's there in spirit and the articles just show up in the papers one day. I guess you could say it's what Alastor admired about Lillian, she was obviously a humble woman. Someone who cared about her work as much as he did his. Even more so loved the same things he did.

A special night was approaching, Alastor was going to join the press as a journalist for a conference. Even get to do an interview with the famous guest. It was such a grand occasion, he wore his best suit. A black suit rimmed with red buttons and red seams around the collar and of course a red dress shirt underneath. Took the breath away from most of the women that glanced at him during the little shindig.

"Look at my handsome little man, I'm so proud of you, mon cœur." Alastor's mother beams at him with pride, rubbing her fingers against his cheek. He grabs her hand and guides her to the bar.

"Thanks mama, I'm really glad you get to be here with me tonight. Can't imagine anyone else to spend this night with, I mean that." Her eyes start to swell as tears spill out of them. He chuckles wiping them away with the back of his hand. The lights finally begin to dim and the guest comes out on stage. "It's time mama, I need to join the crowd." Alastor unpockets his pen and pad and walks to the chaos of the press unfolding before him.

2 hours gone by and he gets maybe 3 questions out of him. This guest isn't particularly nice. He's obviously rushing the journalist and being very um.. kind of an asshole with his replies. Then again it was to be expected from this one. It's why he's Alastor first real job after all.

"Can you please answer respectfully for once? Stop being an ass to the people who will write your story one day." Everything goes quiet and all heads turn to the back of the crowd. A woman.

"Who are you to speak to me that way, slut." He says giving her a disdainful expression.

"I apologize sir, I just want to know as to why you treat everyone like garbage."

"Miss.. does your husband know you are here." He scoffs, taken aback by the woman's comment.

"I am not married, sir." Her eyes are stoic, there's no signs of kidding on her face.

"That explains a lot. No one wants a woman with a mouth like that.. anyhow, ma'am I think you are done here. Guards! See to it that this.. woman.. leaves the building." He snaps his fingers calling the guards over.

Everyone in the crowd obviously disgusted by attitude. Who gave her the right to talk to HIM that way. Only one pair of eyes saw her differently than anyone else. Alastor. She was glorious. He has never seen someone so beautiful in AND out like this before. The woman wore a royal blue drop-waist dress made of silk and velvet with beads and tiers. Thick mid length hair pinned up in a bob, in attempt to keep it all in place. Pearls adorned her neck beautifully.

He walked out the building following loosely behind, his hand rubbing the back of his neck briefly.

"Are you alright, miss?" He speaks softly to her, trying to not speak the woman.

"Ah yes, thank you, I apologize for my behavior back there. You didn't have to come after me." She hugs her arms and paces back and forth, irritation clearly visible on her face.

"I believe it was very much needed. He certainly needed to be put in his place. Who better than you." Alastor's lips grew into a soft grin. She stopped pacing finally taking a really good look at him. Handsome, is all she thought. "May I ask for your name?" He bent down grabbing her hand kissing the back of it.

A blush flooded her face from her cheeks to the tips of the ears. "L-Lillian Fletcher... and you are?" He looked up in shock to her response, clearing his throat.

"My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure indeed!" His smile turned into a starstruck expression. "So you are the Lillian Fletcher that works for the magazine?!" She nodded nervously as Alastor struggled to keep his cool. "I love your articles and sales pitches! It's what inspired me to shoot my shot with an actual job in journalism. I've been writing for as long as I can remember."

"I'm so glad to hear that, my job is my everything. I'm very passionate about it." Her hand hovers over her mouth to hide her giggle.

"Say, Ms. Fletcher, would you like to have dinner with me?" He holds out his arm for her to take as she gladly accepts, wrapping her hand around it with a smile.

"Call me Lili."

Summer of 1917

"How do I look, mama?" Lillian looked at her future mother in law, holding back her tears. Her knuckle grazed under her eyes to keep from ruining the makeup. The dress she wore was an ivory colored low v-neck dress full of lace and the sleeves were nothing but loose tassels. The most gorgeous wedding dress you'd have ever seen. Her hair was neatly curled and pinned up, feathered boa wrapped around her back and arms, elbow length silk gloves, a string of pearls around the neck, and finally a flower crown. Never has someone looked so elegant.

Alastors hands ran through his hair pacing around in the dressing room. No way was this perfect day about to happen for him. He never thought that one day he'd be married. Alastor has always kept to himself, never found anyone attractive enough. He believed the romance life wasn't for him. While it's partly true, he surely was in love deeply. However both agreed that they never wanted children. Never thought they needed to have intimacy to have love. It would be the perfect life with their work, passions and each other of course.

"Ooo honey, you are looking handsome. Can't wait for you to see Lillian. She's glowing." She says letting herself into his room. She walks towards and pulls him down by the collar to fix his bow tie. "My baby boy, finally getting married."

"Thank you mama, for everything. I'll be sure to pass on your jambalaya recipe to her." He snickers, getting a whack in the arm from her.

"Don't start with me now, boy, you're never to old for a whoopin. You hear me?"

-----

The wedding has started in the chapel and everyone takes their seats. Alastor already tearing up from the band playing music. His fingers fidgeting with eachother in front of him. His bride in all her glory walking down the aisle as if she was a star in the sky.

They took each other's hands holding their breaths as the priest gets through his speech. The wedding was very simple and short event. Due to both groom and bride's status, it was best to keep it a secret and only allow close family. Meaning Alastor's mom and their pet black cat.. Lucifer.

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride." That moment lasted for what felt like forever.

Winter of 1928.

Eleven years have passed, both are 34 years of age and their relationship has nothing but flourished since they were married.

Lillian has retired from her life of writing for the public to devote herself to her husband. It's been peaceful and life has never felt better. Alastor on the other hand was promoted to radio host as soon as they were being sold to consumers. It's one thing to write it all out on paper but another to broadcast his interviews and music live to listeners with similar interests. It was... a thrill to him. He and his wife have became quite the team on radio. She often helps him figure out pitches to his audience to boost it.

"Al dear, don't you think it's time for bed?" Lillian's hands wrapped around his neck and ran down his chest, leaning down enough to place a kiss on his head. "You've been working on next week's interview all day. Time to rest, darling."

He sighs and squeezes her hand before nodding. "Alright mon amour." He stands up dragging his feet to their shared bed, tucking each other in. Lillian stroked his hair in hopes to bring him some comfort. He pulls her into his chest. "I will never love anyone other than you. You are mine for eternity."

-------

"Why haven't you told me about this before?!"

"I just didn't want you to worry about it.. you've got a big show coming up soon."

"Hate to break it to you, darling, but someone stalking you is a lot more important to me than a damn show!" Lillian silenced herself, looking away from Alastor's gaze. "I'm staying home."

"No! You can't! That show is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"YOU are my one opportunity! If something happened to you.. I would go Insane." He gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Fine.. Let's make a deal, Al dear. You stay at home all week, but on the day of your show, we take extra precautions to the house and you go. After that you can stay home as much as you want." Lillian says in a serious tone and holds out her hand.

"Deal."

⛧ ⛧ ⛧

The day had finally come and both were feeling nervous. In truth, neither of them wanted Alastor to leave. But with the extra precautions in the house, there was no point in staying home. She was right, this chance will never come again.

The stalker in question had done this sort of thing to several women in the past, many of which had simply gone missing. The ones that were found had been abused and stabbed in the spine causing paralysis, and yes, dead. What a horrific way to die, they both thought. So far there have been 6 victims.

"Are you ready, dear?" Lillian asks helping his coat on. Alastor's expression looking out of place. He was scared and couldn't look her in the eyes, fearing it could be the last time he sees them.

"Are you sure you can't come with me?" He grabs her hand and holds it to his chest. His heart beat a mile a minute.

"You know I'm not allowed there anymore. Or have you forgotten?" She chuckles in attempt to comfort her husband. Obviously not working. Alastor was heartbroken, the only thing he could think of now was to hurry up and get his show done and over with so he can come home. Almost like it wasn't important anymore.

"I've got you a gift." He pulled out a velvet box from his pocket. Lillian took the box and opened it, revealing a locket. 'Mon amour'. She opened it up to see a picture of them on their wedding day. Happy as can be. "No matter what happens know that you are the most important thing in my life." She smiled up at him and gave him a big hug before thanking him. It's beautiful.

"Time to go, my darling." She gives him one last passionate kiss before pushing his butt out the door and locking it. It was cruel to do that however, if it dwelled on it any longer he'd surely break his promise. In reality, she was panicking about being left alone. For good reason...

.

.

.

Alastor's body finally relaxed after 4 hours of his show, it was the most enjoyable one so far. Interviewing the mayor, he was a lot nicer than expected and obviously cared for his people. It wasn't until one of the new journalists came barging in that everything changed.

"Uh oh we've got some breaking news! A new victim of the killer. Our seventh victim is the magazine writer and trend-setter, Lillian Lili?!..." He held his breath as a lump formed in his throat. Immediately getting up, turning on his heels, and hurrying out of the building. His hands were shaking in hopes that she was at the very least still alive. Maybe this was a different situation.

Police and the press had already arrived hours before. Pushing through the crowd, a policeman placed a hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

"Are you Mrs. Lillian's husband?" The policeman asked. Alastor's glared down at the man keeping him away from his wife. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that she was killed. I cannot let you go on further for your own good."

"H-How did this happen.. the house was covered in as many locks as we could find! Wood bolted to the windows and-"

"It was not a break in, sir. He had been living in your cellar for what may have been... a week?." Alastor's color drained from his face. In the cellar? He had locked his wife in there with that criminal?

He pushed past the policeman and ducked under the police tape. No one stopped him in time before he saw the scene unfold in front of him. Just like the other women. She had been assaulted and puddles of blood ran from her back. Alastor drops to his knees and grips his hair, crying hysterically. Something snapped within him. His cries suddenly turned into insane laughter. It appalled everyone. He goes over and picks her up and cradles her lifeless body in his own. The blood staining his clothes.

"You can't do that! This is a crime scene! You can't mess with evidence. It belongs to the police department!" The police officer yelled at him. Alastor said nothing continuing to hold her. He knew what to do..

Winter of 1933

̷̍̇̄̐̂̏͊̒̈́ "Breaking News! We have an update on Paul Benjamin. You know the one serial killer who has had an open case for 20 years. Well.. HE'S DEAD HAHAHAHA!" Alastor beat on his desk laughing before clearing his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, it just about time it happened don't y'all agree?" He said calming down and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I wonder who's next on this antihero's list."

It had been 5 years since Lillian's death. While he is working through the pain, his methods to cope is questionable. Four years ago Alastor had decided he wanted to deal with his wife's murderer himself. A year of following his movements and actions eventually paid off. A new addiction emerged to the surface. How easy it was to pierce human skin, to the screams of misery and pain. It was such an amazing feeling. Why stop there? There are people who deserve the same. Nine monsters.. nine people killed by Alastor's hand. Each deeply researched and carefully chosen.

The walk back home from the studio was peaceful. Nothing could make this night better. Many horrors have been removed from the streets of New Orleans thanks to him. Thankfully he was never suspected in any of them. Alastor was very particularly careful how he handled them. Every single seeming to be an accident or su**ide. To the public, it was almost like a miracle. But to the criminals themselves, they knew. Who was next on this mastermind's list? Paranoia set in to them all.

"Ahh what a day my dear, wish you could be here to see what I've accomplished." His laugh was maniacal. He removed his jacket and put it on the hanger on the door. "You are safe now, my darling. We're getting closer to having a free city of monsters."

"I knew it was you.." a voice whispered to Alastor from behind him, holding a knife to his neck. "The only monster left in this town is you, Al." Alastor stayed quiet and slowly reached for the knife in his vest pocket. "I d-don't want to kill you. I understand why you did it but your wife would not like this. Just submit yourself to the police and I will let you go."

He belted the insane laughter, making the man steadily walk backwards in fear. "Understand? You could never understand." Alastor swiped his finger across the cut on his neck left by the knife, and licking it. "I just enjoy doing it." He swiftly shoved the knife into the man's chest.

"Hmmm.. where to put this one. Ah I got it." Unlike all the others, this one was a surprise bonus to the collection. The only possible place to deal with this one was the forest a few acres behind his home. No one went in due to the stories of crytids and it being haunted. It was perfect.

He grabs the shovel sitting against the treeafter placing the corpse in the hole, filling it up with dirt. Upon hearing voices creeping upon him, he looked over his shoulder briefly just for everything to go dark.

"Uh.. I don't think that was a deer, Bill."

"What?"

Present day in Hell

"Congratulations, your highness. Never doubted you for a second. The hotel is starting to gain attraction. " Alastor bowed to Charlie with his hand on his chest.

"You know damn well you're only here for the entertainment. You even said it was a ridiculous idea." Vaggie tapped her feet and crossing her arms.

"Ah yes well... I apologize. Regardless I'm glad everything worked out this way." He gripped his cane, his static-y voice glitching out a bit.

"Speaking of attraction, don't you think it'd be a good idea to put out more commercials and articles about the hotel. Maybe the sinners will take it seriously this time." Charlie paced back and forth before looking to Alastor.

"Good idea! And I know just the person." The one he referred was a commonly feared overlord. One that could potentially out matched Alastor himself. Maere. The dream demon. His shtick was that he can sneak into nightmares and manipulate humans and sinners to sign away their souls for something as simple as a piece of clothing. A soul for an easily attainable item. Despicable.

All the souls he owns have been known to be abused within his possession. On top of it, he rents them out to customers for whatever they need. Because of his collection of talented souls, he has earned his spot in several companies from technology and fashion to restaurants and sinful services.

Now Alastor does not like dealing with demons like him. He was a murderer but only to those who deserve it or push his buttons. Being acquaintances with Maere was useful at times. In the past he has secretly helped free some of them from the contracts with him. This was not one of those times.

The square of pentagram city, where you will find all the fashion stores and new technology. Anything you may need really, including Maere's headquarters.

"Alastor! Our beloved radio demon. I figured your ass would show up around here at what point, old friend." He rubbed his cigarette between his fingers putting it in the ash tray before standing up to greet him.

"Ah ha ha.. don't call me that. I'm just here to do business." He swiped his dhoulder pad before putting both hands atop his cane. "I'm sure you've heard about princess Charlotte's hotel kicking up attention. I'm here to see if you have any souls that would be perfect in advertising the hotel. Someone who is persuasive and talented with writing."

"Hmmm I may have someone like that. Only if you promise to STOP RELEASING THEM FROM MY CONTRACTS!" He held out his hand in hopes of agreeing on a deal.

"I guess I could.. fine, you've got a deal." He grapped Maere's hand, shaking it. Maere grips his hand and leans closer to Alastor.

"I mean it. You're dead if you do." Alastor's expression stayed composed.

. . . . .

"Let me introduce you to my star saleswoman. She does a lot of the Vees advertisements in tv, newspaper, and magazine. Quite the talented one if I do say so myself. She's good for other things as well if you kbow what I mean." He was quite a cruel 'master'. Every single soul he owned was only allowed to do anything unless they are rented or if he decides to use them. And the way he made sure were restraints on both the face and arms. A metal mask was bolted to behind there heads covering their whole face with matching metal restraints that kept their forearms tight against their backs.

This woman was no different. On the other hand, her clothing was rather elegant. A beautiful evening gown that looked like it'd have been popular in the 1920s. It was a loose-fitting floor length dress that flared at the knees; low v-neck, flowy mesh sleeves. The base of it was red silk while the outside was full of fringe and black lace details. Her hair was black with curls that reached her shoulders, with long ears sticking out the top of her head. Little fluffy tail sticking out the back of her dress, and to top it off were her very long paws. I guess her feet were to big to find shoes for her. A rabbit demon?

"Does this one at the very least have a name?" Alastor questioned Maere. He thought about it before snapping his fingers.

"Ah yes! She is soul 19,281!" He pushed her into Alastor's chest, making her stumble and drop something off around her neck. Maere released her from the restraints letting her scramble for the necklace on the ground. He disappeared letting Alastor do his thing.

"I despise having to do dealings with that demon. Are you alright little lady." Alastor leaned down to grab the necklace for her. A locket? He opened it seeing the inside, having it suddenly be ripped from his hand. It was him and his wife. The two finally gazed up at each other in awe.

"...Lili?"

[ohnoitstbskyen]

hey skyen, you mentioned about kuina that she seemed transmasc to you and in my experience i think more people see zoro as a transmasc person, the reason being is his want/need to break gender stereotypes rather than enforce them. through kuina, his story to become the greatest swordman is inherently about breaking gender roles. and personally i think a lot of transmascs see this as their relationship to cis women. (especially in how kuina pushes zoro into the "weak" category with him and parrots sexism without knowing how it affects him) i also think his story is WAY more satisfying from a gender perspective if you see him as transmasc, regardless of if its intended or not. (the truth is that theyre BOTH transmasc, actually, why not?) (idk if you read fanfiction, probably not, but the fanfiction Burning Man on ao3 really goes in depth with transmasc zoro. its also the best fanfiction ive personally read for op)

Yeah, I can absolutely see that.

On related lines, I've also seen an interpretation of the story that Kuina and Zoro are the same person, and that Zoro's flashback depicts a metaphorical series of events rather than literal, where he battles with his assigned identity over and over as a child and can never "beat" her, never overcome or break out from under her.

But when he realizes that his assigned identity is miserable and in pain, and that all that even she wants is to be a boy, he has to go through the trauma of seeing her die, and go out into the world as truly himself. Through that lens his quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world is, in part, a quest to spite every motherfucker on Earth who told his past self that he would never be able to transcend his assigned gender.

So long as you assume that Kuina's father is playing along with it to the point of setting up a grave for his dead daughter who never was, it does explain why he would let Zoro take away the Wado Ichimonji, an incredibly important and valuable family heirloom, and treat Zoro so much like a direct son.

The Three Sword Style already represents Zoro carrying Kuina's spirit and memory with him always - his two-sword style in the hands, her one sword style in his mouth - and in this reading the style would be carrying the memory and pain of his childhood with him, and letting it empower him to become greater than anyone without his experiences could ever be.

It's one of the nice things about One Piece, I think, that it is open to these kinds of interpretations. Luffy being aro/ace is basically canon, which I appreciate a lot, and nobody can tell me Nami and Vivi didn't have a mutual crush going during Alabasta, and there is no understanding of Ace I will accept where he wasn't the most bi/pan wandering disaster the Grand Line had ever seen since Roger.

I do hope the actual explicit text of the manga will catch up to that someday... I was really happy to finally see some actual transmasc rep with Yamato, and a bit more playfulness with gender in general in characters like Izou and Kikunojo in the Wano Country arc, and honestly canonically transmasc Zoro or Crocodile would be enriching to both of those characters, I think.

[itsghvstfvce]

TAKE YOU BY THE HAND

pairing : jenna ortega x gn!reader

summary : the night of the met gala is reminiscent of a special night you shared with jenna

word count : 1k

warnings : none!

a/n: a short little something about jenna at the met gala while i work on the next part for 'what's in a name' <3 thank you all so much for the love you've been giving it! i hope you enjoy this oneee

You sit on your hotel bed as you admire the suit hanging in front of you.

After gaining immense success from your new film, you earned an invite to the Met Gala for the first time. The annual event is known for showcasing some of the best outfits and looks for the year, with hundreds of people tuning in to find their favourite celebrities creatively sporting different luxury brands. Although the Met Gala is known for seeing crazy, big, and loud attire, you and your stylist worked together to be on the simpler side of things for your first appearance.

But if you were being honest, being able to attend the Gala was not the sole reason for your excitement; it’s the fact that you get to attend alongside your longtime girlfriend, Jenna.

The Scream actress was ecstatic to learn that you had also been invited to attend, rambling about how proud she was and how you two should coordinate your outfits. You were on board with the idea and have been discussing with your stylists to make it work. However, Jenna said she wanted to keep her outfit a surprise until you were both ready to make your way to the museum. Even after pleading for hints and sneak peeks, she was adamant on surprising you on the evening of. Respecting her wishes, you eventually stop bugging her about it and tell her you’ll be excited to see the final result.

Your Chanel suit fits you to a tee, and your stylists and manager are stunned at your appearance. You were always attractive, that much everyone knew, but tonight you exude a different aura. You showed confidence and a fierceness that hadn’t been seen from you often, as if a hidden beast was unleashed for the first time.

“I’m sending this to your mother! She’d be so proud to see you,” your manager excitedly snaps pictures of you like they were the paparazzi. You laugh at all of their reactions, feeling your cheeks heat up due to the attention they were giving you.

“Guys come on, it’s just me in a suit!”

“Yeah, but you look so damn good in a suit! Why haven’t we put you in more suits?!” your stylist lights up with glee. Now you were expecting your future premieres and interviews to be done in suits.

After final touches, you head down to the hotel lobby. You patiently wait at the bottom of the grand staircase, conversing with your team. You’re lost in conversation, not realizing that everyone’s attention had been diverted to something else - or someone else. You follow their line of sight to the top of the stairs where you find Jenna.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for one moment. Your gaze is fixed on her as she slowly makes her way down the stairs. Jenna was beautiful, that’s a given fact, but tonight she looked phenomenal. There’s a lack of words on my part to describe how amazing she looked, yet the look on your face was enough to explain how you felt.

“Close your mouth babe, you’ll catch flies,” she places her hand on your chin to gently shut your mouth. You didn’t even realize how close she’s gotten to you, too mesmerized by her appearance. Your girlfriend giggles at your lack of speech and decides to give you a better view by taking a step back and twirling around.

“Well? What do you think?” you’re finally snapped out of your trance.

“Eh, I think I look better,” you tease. Jenna laughs and closes the distance between you again until she’s standing right in front of you, and she brushes off specks of dust and lint from your suit.

“I can’t deny that you do look amazing tonight, mi amor.”

“Says you. You’re beautiful, cara mia,” you add emphasis on the compliment and Jenna smiles as a familiar pink tint crawls onto her face. You wrap your arms around her waist, hers around the back of your neck.

“You know what this reminds me of?” you hum in response, curious to hear what the shorter girl had to say. “Prom night. The way you looked at me as I was coming down the stairs was the exact same look you gave me when I came out of my bedroom and you saw me in my prom dress.”

Your heart swells at the memory. Due to the pandemic, there was no opportunity for you to take Jenna to your prom. However, you still wanted her to have that experience so with the help of both of your families, you planned a makeshift prom in Jenna’s backyard. When you went upstairs to bring her outside, you remember staring at her from top to bottom and all the way around, ensuring that her beauty would forever be imprinted in your mind.

“Yeah, I remember. I can’t believe that was almost 3 years ago now,” you smile lovingly.

“And do you remember what I said to you when we were dancing in the backyard?”

“When you said you felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and that the entire night felt magical?”

“Your memory truly amazes me, but yes. I feel that way right now and it’s how I feel every moment I’m with you,” the last part of her sentence turns into a soft whisper, loud enough for only you to hear. You scan her face to admire all that is Jenna, taking in the features of her perfectly crafted face and you lean into place a kiss on-

“Y/N! Jenna! Over here!”

A sea of flashing lights and the calls from reporters and the paparazzi catches both of your attention, and the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. Your managers tell you it’s time to head to the museum, so you take a step back from Jenna and hold out your hand for her to take. Your fingers interlace with each other in a perfect fit, raising your hands to place a sweet kiss on hers.

“Shall we, princess?” Jenna snorts at the nickname, but finds it endearing nonetheless.

“Lead the way, love.”

a/n: i know nothing about clothing so i didn't want to try and describe our outfit too much TT forgive me lmao but thanks for reading!

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey!! was just looking to request a little something, if you don't want to/don't have the time I don't mind.

So, like a Max V x Reader where reader is Toto's daughter. Reader and Toto doesn't have a good relationship because she isn't very interested in the Mercedes team and after a petty fight he kicks her out of the house, max hears them fighting (they're in the paddock) and offers to host reader and as time goes, they start to build a relationship and then everyone finds out about it. Also if it could take place under the 2021 season. 🏎️🤍

*sips on dr pepper* Alright Toto my beloved, it‘s time to be a bitch

Thank u sm for the request anon! I made some small changes to the plot but nothing major xx

Paddock Pass pt.1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, dad!toto wolff x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: After Toto takes your paddock pass, Max comes to your rescue. You didn‘t think that rescue would lead to something much bigger. (Pls trust me this is good, I just suck at summaries)

warnings: angst, fighting, bad dad-daughter dynamics, fluff, mutual pining turning into more, use of Y/N one time, not really proofread (anything else? Tell me if I missed something)

Masterlist || taglist || part one || part two || part three

There wasn't a year when you hadn't attended at least half of the grand prix. And this year was no different. 

Your job allowed you to work from everywhere you liked, so it was the perfect opportunity to follow your dads team around the world. 

The Mercedes Formula One team was something you’d consider family. 

You knew everyone by name, some of them knew you since you were only a few years old, attending your first races. 

But you never cared for the strategies, the way the cars worked, or anything in that field. 

You were here for the excitement of the races, the familiarity and the people. The drivers, the mechanics, the strategists or the people working for the media… they were close to your heart, and you couldn't imagine not being part of this world.

Even if you weren't the least bit interested in the details; you knew everything about the sport, you just didn't want to go into detail why the car would work better if you added this thing to whatever part of the car that your dad had explained to you so many times. 

But Toto Wolff would not understand that. And he made it very clear. 

In his eyes, you should be just as interested in all aspects of the sport. To be like him, you thought.

„You know what, Dad? Shocker, but not everyone shares your fucking interests and cares for them as much as you do!" 

You've never talked to him like that, but you've had enough. "I know I'm not the daughter you'd like to have," you continued, „I really don't care  about the aerodynamics of Lewis‘ car and how it's different to Valtteris'! I simply don't care!" 

You felt hot tears burning in your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. Barely, but he didn't have to see them. "They all know that," these damn tears wouldn't stop, you thought, "Everyone except for you, Dad.

The disappointment in your voice was clear as day, "Why do you even take me with you, when you don't just accept me as I am?" Your lips were pressed in a tight line, the tears still on the verge of falling. 

"You're right." Toto said in the coldest voice you might've ever heard from him, his accent thick, „I don't have to drag you with me anywhere, you're an adult after all. But I also don't have to give you access to the paddock, nor to the garage or anywhere else."

You clenched your teeth, hard. He just had to snap his fingers and your all access pass was worth nothing. You couldn't enter the paddock, couldn’t go anywhere else. And he knew, clear as day, that you couldn't just take a plane back home. You needed the money to pay your rent and couldn't just waste it on a plane ticket that was way too expensive. 

But you wouldn't give in this time, no, if he wanted to punish you for telling him the truth, fine. But he couldn't just humiliate you like he did right now. You grabbed the all access pass hanging from your neck and shoved it in his hand. "Take it then." you said, your voice matching his cold tone. 

Max was hearing every part of it. He'd noticed your voice just before he walked past the Mercedes facility, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard the tone of your words. The voice he had heard so many times, the kindness you always spoke with. All gone. And then Toto's. Just as horribly cold. The two of you were standing between the facilities, so he pretended to be on his phone answering someone, so he could wait in front of his own facility. 

"Take it then." he heard you say in a bitter tone, and just a moment later, you walked past him. He could tell that you were upset. Hell, everyone could've. The way you almost ran out of the paddock and tried to blink away the tears - of sadness, anger, or possibly both, he couldn't tell - it was obvious. Max waited another moment, and when he saw Toto returning to the Mercedes facility, he quickly followed you.

He had to quicken his pace, due to your fast steps. Some were curiously watching where he wanted to be so quickly, but he didn't notice them, just trying to catch up to you. "Hey," he called after you, "wait for me!" 

You didn't hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn't think he'd meant you. It was when he called out your name, that you finally turned around. 

"Thank you." he said, taking a deep breath. He stopped right at your side. "Ehm," you looked at him in utter confusion, still trying not to be obvious of your emotions. "Can I help you, Max?" 

You haven't seen him, when you walked past the Red Bull building, too focused on what to do now. 

„Uhm, yeah, I mean… Can we find a-„ he looked around, “a more private place to talk?” 

His gaze was filled with sincerity and softness. You needed a second to answer him. „Uhm, yes. Of course.“ you quietly said. 

“Great.” Max gently took your wrist and led you to a more secluded place between two facilities. The grip he had on your wrist turned into him sliding his hand in yours. It didn‘t surprise you how the skin where he had touched you tingled, the feeling of your hand in his a feeling you could never quite explain. It was childish, but ever since he started driving for Red Bull, you had a crush on him. You obviously never told your Dad or anyone else about it, hell would've broken loose if you did. 

“I was actually heading out of the paddock,“ you started, “I don't have a pass anymore.” 

His lack of confusion or surprise to that made you draw your brows together, and then he simply answered, „I know.” 

“So what are you-„ you started, but he interrupted you, “I know it's not the most gentlemen thing to do, but I heard all of the-“ he thought for a second, “discussion, between you and your Dad.” he ended. 

That actually made you smile a little, he tried his best to be as gentle as possible and you appreciated it. „It’s okay, Max. I guess everyone kind of heard us.” you sighed, „We had a fight, and he kicked me out.” a bitter smile formed on your lips. 

„Yeah, but he can't kick you out of the paddock.” Max's lips turned into a mischievous smile. “What do you mean?” He looked at your hand and his thumb caressed it for a second. „I'll give you one of mine.” 

„Max,“ you started a little shocked, but he quickly shook his head, „It's really no problem at all,“ he smiled, „It would be an honor to have you in the garage.“ he winked.

His knees almost buckled at the sight of you.

He had given you one of his spare Red Bull shirts. It was a little too big for you, but you had styled it perfectly, the new pass dangling from your neck with every step you took.

You looked absolutely beautiful. And you weren't walking past his garage like you usually would, because his garage was the one you'd watch the race in. It filled him with a sort of pride he couldn't explain. Never in a million years, had he dared to believe you'd be rooting for him and his team. Little did he know, you did since meeting him for the first time. 

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile. Max was glad that you seemed to be in a much better mood than yesterday. „Hey.“ he grinned. „Is this-„ you gestured over your outfit and pass, „Is it really okay with the team?“ 

You were a little nervous how they'd react to you being in the garage. Nearly everyone knew you were Toto's daughter. And although you knew most of the other teams, including the people who worked for them, you felt quite nervous. „It is.“ His voice had no trace of uncertainty in it. And when he grabbed your hand for the second time since your encounter yesterday, your stomach did a little happy flip. 

„Alright, I have to go, but you can just go over there to watch the race,“ he pointed to your left, „But I guess it's no different to the Mercedes garage, so…“ he laughed. You smiled and chuckled, „It isn‘t, but thank you.“ He gave you a small nod, still smiling. „No Max, really. Thank you.“ Your voice became more serious, and you looked at him with utter gratitude. 

Just when he gave your hand a light squeeze, you noticed that you must've still been holding hands. „I already told you it's no problem, I'm glad you are here.“ You couldn‘t tell the look on his face, you just knew that he was standing so very close to you that only a few centimeters separated the two of you. His gaze wandered from your eyes to your lips. His hand that caressed yours as you still watched him with such intensity, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but at the same time just taking him in. „Y/N, I-„ he started whispering, so close to your own lips, just so very close. 

„Max! We need you over here!“

The voice made both you and Max look up, almost startled. He turned around to the mechanic, and nodded quickly before turning back to you. 

But the moment was gone. You took a step back, letting go of his hand in the process. You smiled at him, though nervously, „Good luck, champ.“. And with that you left him standing there, your heart still aching for so much more than a simple ‚good luck‘. 

I appreciate your comments and reblogs so much!

here’s my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip 🩷

[nicorobinmywife]

one piece boys finding out you're their soulmate.

Characters: Zoro, Luffy and Mihawk.

Summary: basically they see the red string that connects the two of you. GN Reader.

Note: I had a lot of fun writing this one, maybe I'll do a part two with other characters.

Zoro

one day he woke up and saw a red string on his finger.

Confused, he thought it was just a prank by luffy or sanji.

he tried to cut the red string with his sword but it didn't work.

Robin explained to him that when you find your soulmate, the red string becomes visible for a while.

he didn't believe in soul mates, he thought this was just a fairy tale.

he followed the red string and widened his eyes when he saw that it was connected to his finger as well.

you and zoro were always teasing each other, sometimes he found you even a little more annoying than sanji, so for him it was impossible that you were his soulmate.

you noticed that zoro has been acting strange these last few days and trying to stay away from you.

one day, sanji flirted with you in front of zoro, which made him furious.

"stay away from my soulmate, you shitty cook." - everyone on the ship widened their eyes when he said that.

- you finally noticed the red string that connect us? - you ask him.

- wait? did you already know about it? why didn't you tell me before? - He crosses his arms looking at you.

- because my soulmate is a grumpy swordsman who wouldn't believe it.

- now i believe, if that red string is connecting us it's for a reason. - he held your hand and smiled at you, you couldn't ask for a better soulmate.

Luffy

he heard stories of people finding their soulmates through the red string when he was a kid, but he didn't think that one day it would happen to him.

one day he saw the red string wrapped around his finger and immediately ordered the ship to follow them.

he was so excited to meet his soulmate, that's how he found you.

your personalities match a lot, you had a lot in common with him like loving food, living adventures and the dream of finding the one piece.

you were also very strong and he realized that you would be very useful to his crew.

he invited you to join his crew, he said he couldn't continue his journey without his soul mate.

you obviously accepted the invitation, ready to live a new life of adventures with your soul mate.

Mihawk

you always liked swords and you've trained your whole life to be the best.

when he saw the red string wrapped around his finger, he got nervous, he didn't want just anyone to be his soulmate, he wanted someone who was as good as him.

he followed the red string across the grand line and found you training, you were so focused you didn't realize he was watching you.

he was impressed with your skills, he finally found someone who is on his level.

"may I join you?" - your entire body shivered when you heard his voice, he raised his hand and showed the red string connecting the two of you.

as the days passed, you got to know each other better, you two not only had a passion for swords but also loved good wine and books.

[clxja16]

Does He Know

part three

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: forbidden relationship

Warnings: smut, swearing, angst

Word Count: 1.7K+

Author's Note: okay I seen you guys beg, I was working on a part three before I actually decided to post it, so this came out fast. but once again you guys win, and here's part three. I am really happy that you guys enjoy my writing, like idk why tho lmaoooo. anyway idk if this is what you were expecting for part three but here it is. enjoy reading <3

part I

part II

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

*one year later* 

You don’t find anyone that makes you feel like how Charles made you feel.  You don’t find someone that sets your skin a blaze with a touch.  You don’t find someone, who’s voice causes goosebumps to crawl over your skin.  You don’t find someone who makes your brian go fuzzy.  You don’t find someone who sends shocks through your system.  In a way you’re glad that you don’t find anyone to replace Charles.  

You’re in Las Vegas for the weekend, for a friend.  You were out at one of the many clubs on the strip, dancing, drinking and having a grand time.  That’s when you feel him come up behind you.  The cologne he’s wearing is the same one from over a year ago, it makes your mind go fuzzy.  His touch sets your skin ablaze.  You feel your heart pound against your ribcage.  

“I know you,” he whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps crawling over your skin.  

You smirk at his sentiment, “I know you,” you say as you turn around to confirm your suspicions.  You smile up at Charles.  

The two of you stay in that moment, swaying to the music, everyone else disappears around you.  Something about being so physically close to Charles has you forgetting everything.  It doesn’t take long before the two of you are leaving the club, hand in hand.  You don’t even waste time trying to find your friends to make up an excuse about why you’re heading out.  Charles stops at his table with his friends, he doesn’t explain anything and just says he’s leaving.  

The two of you get the first car back to his hotel.  The car ride back to the hotel is filled with rushed kisses, and busy hands.  You swear the driver tries to take a peek a few times, but Charles takes all your attention so that you don’t have the time to scold the driver.  When you guys pull up to the hotel, you get out of the car first, Charles hangs back to tip the driver.  You swear you hear him say something along the lines of ‘in your dreams mate.’  

You don’t have a chance to dwell on what Charles might have said, as he drags you across the lobby and into the first elevator that opens.  As soon as the doors to the elevator shut, Charles is pushing you up against the wall, pressing his lips against yours.  It takes everything in you to not jump Charles right there in that elevator.  

When the elevator does go off to signal that you arrived at the floor, you pull away first.  Charles takes a deep breath, before picking you up, throwing you over his shoulder, and exiting onto the floor.  Charles takes long strides to make it back to his hotel room, your giggles bounce off the walls as you dangle over Charles’ shoulder.  The entire situation causes your giggles to be never ending.  

When you finally enter the hotel room, Charles throws you down on the plush bed.  He stands at the end of the bed, clearly impatient, clearly hot and bothered.  The sight of his pants has the proudest smirk play itself on your lips.  You spread your legs, your dress riding up just slightly to welcome him.  You pull at his shirt, bringing him down to kiss you.  Charles kisses you intensely, as his hand pushes your dress further up your body.  He moves his hands to feel your core, you gasp at his fingers brushing against you.  

“So wet, and all I did was kiss you,” Charles says with a cocky smirk.  You don’t bother with answering him, instead just pulling him for another kiss.  Charles shoves his fingers between your panties and you, gliding between your folds.  You moan into your kisses with Charles, you missed how his fingers felt inside of you.  You missed his voice, his scent, his hands, his arms, you missed all of him.  

Charles pumps his fingers in and out of you at a steady but fast pace.  He brings you back to that beloved cliff once again.  You even missed how he made you cum, no one could bring this out of you like him.  Charles moves his kisses down to your neck, you feel him suck on that one sweet spot, pushing you over the edge.  

You’re not Arthur’s girlfriend anymore.  You don’t belong to anybody anymore.  Charles is free to mark you how he sees fit.  And he marks you.  He leaves hickeys where he kisses.  He leaves them on your neck for the world to see.  He leaves them on your breast for only you and him to see.  He leaves one on the back of your shoulder for only himself to see.  He marks you as his, even if it's only for the night.  

Charles could spend the whole night marking your body with hickeys, but you don’t allow him, pulling him back to your lips.  You pull off whatever clothes you're left wearing, you put on a little show for Charles.  Charles enjoys your little show, it makes him want you more than ever, even though he doesn’t know how that's possible.  He doesn’t argue.  After you're done, Charles doesn’t put on a show for you.  Instead pull off whatever he’s wearing.  He rushes with his movements, he’s impatient but so are you.  

He settles himself between your legs, pushing into you.  He is a gentleman at the end of the day, so he pushes into you slowly.  He waits for your signal that it’s okay to move, and when you do give the signal, he moves slowly.  He follows your lead in this moment, until you utter that one word.  “Faster, please Charles,” your voice comes out as a breathy whimper.  And Charles moves faster.  He doesn’t worry about how loud you’ll be this time.  He doesn’t worry about your cries or your moans.  

He relishes in the sounds you make, it’s music to his ears.  He enjoys listening to you moan.  Charles lifts one of your legs, placing your ankle on his shoulder.  You feel all of him, so much deeper inside of you.  “God, I missed you,” Charles says inbetween pants.  

Charles fingers find your clit, rubbing soft circles.  You feel your toes curl as Charles shoves you over the edge and fills you with pleasure in all the best ways possible.  He doesn’t stop there, and he’s nowhere near stopping.  Even after you cum, Charles keeps going.  You don’t understand how his stamina is holding up, but it does.  

-

You lay in the bed, wrapped around Charles with only a thin sheet, left.  The two of you enjoy laying together, he begins to tell you about his race in Vegas.  You tell him what you’re doing in Vegas.  You explain what you’ve been doing in the year since the last time you saw him.  The two of you talk like old friends catching up.  

Charles orders room service for the two of you.  You both shower together while waiting for the food to be brought up.  When the two of you finish, the food is there waiting for you.  Charles sits across from you with just a towel wrapped around his waist.  You sit on the other with just one of the plush bathrobes on.  The two of you tell stories while you dine over, overpriced food and drinks.   

As the evening dwells on, the conversation begins to slow down.  It weighs on your mind, and you don’t even know if you should ask.  You’re not even sure if you want the answer, you don’t think you deserve the answer, but you still ask.  You ask, because you know you need to talk about it.  “How's Arthur?” you ask with a pause, you take notice of how Charles tenses at your question.  

Charles turns his head, he doesn’t look at you when he answers, “he’s been good, met a good girl.”  Charles doesn’t know if he should say more.  He doesn’t know if he should tell you that Arthur spent the first month after the break up trying to figure out who the other guy was.  He doesn’t know if you want to know about the countless women Arthur slept with after you.  He doesn’t know if he should mention the endless conversation about Arthur wondering why he wasn’t good enough for you.  He doesn’t know if he should be completely honest or not.  

“And Charlotte?” 

“We broke up,” Charles says, turning his attention back to you, he doesn’t miss how your ears perk up at the mention of the break up.  He doesn’t miss the small glint in your eyes, the hope.  He wants to tell you more.  He wants to tell you that he ended it with Charlotte, as soon as you ended it with Arthur.  He wants to tell you that he ended it for you.  

“I’m sorry,” you feel obligated to apologize, even though the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.  It would be a lie to say that you weren’t happy with the news that Charles was single.  

“It was bound to happen,” Charles says, as he watches the small amount of hope you had disappear.  

“Does she know now?” You ask, you wonder if the answer will change.  

“No,” Charles swears on his life, he will take this secret, you, with him to the grave. 

“Does he know now?” You didn’t tell Arthur the full truth, not for Arthur’s sake but for Charles.  You can’t imagine the kind of riff a secret like this would put on their relationship.  

“No,” Charles answers honestly.  He doesn’t plan on ever telling Arthur what he did; he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Arthur ever found out.  

“We can never really be with each other Charles,” you speak bluntly, you break your own heart with your words.  You know it to be the truth, but that doesn’t mean you like the truth.  

“I know,” Charles says, he doesn’t look at you anymore, as he pushes the food around his plate.  He knows what you’re saying is the truth, but that doesn’t mean he likes it either.  

“Even if Arthur knew everything, it wouldn’t be right,” you feel tears falling from your eyes.  

“I know,” Charles says as he looks up at you, he watches you wipe away the fresh tears.  “But for tonight we can be together,” he offers you tonight, instead of a lifetime.  

“For tonight,” you say, as you move to sit in Charles' lap, resting your head against his shoulder, enjoying being close to him even if it’s only for tonight.  You take tonight with him over a lifetime with anyone else. 

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

Taglist: @somanyfandomsbruh@starfly-nicole@janeholt3@sheslikeacurse@uhhevie@formula-hamilton

[actual-changeling]

Welcome to:

We need to talk about Michael

The first post can be found right here, and I do recommend reading it first because otherwise you might not know what exactly I am talking about. As previously announced, we will now have a look at Michael, Uriel, and Gabriel in season two because our Archangels might not be as loyal as the Metatron thinks.

Part 2: Common Ground

I will start with the Apocalypse #2 meeting and the trial, since chronologically it happens right before season two, and we need the conclusions I will come to for later.

The plan for the apocalypse itself is something I've already talked about in a different meta post and there's even more to discuss, but to not get too off-topic, we'll leave it at "earth gets destroyed, heaven and hell go to war" for this one.

I don't know about you, but for me the trial has always felt... off, in a way, and I couldn't put my finger on why exactly—now I have a theory: The entire conversation around Gabriel saying 'no' was orchestrated, not just by himself but by him and Michael.

Armageddon is prevented and Gabriel falls in love with Beelzebub, who is unfortunately the prince of hell and thus the Enemy tm in theory. Practically, heaven and hell work closely with each other, and which angel he knows has established direct contact with dukes of hell?

Michael.

So Gabriel goes to her and together they talk to Beez to come up with a plan, because Michael wants Gabriel out of heaven just as much as he wants to leave heaven. Michael wants his job.

The solution is surprisingly simple: Find a way to make Gabriel fall, who then gets to be princess of hell and Beelzebub's sugar baby, Beelzebub gets to be with Gabriel all the time, and Michael—as duty officer and thus second in command—gets a promotion, taking the role of Supreme Archangel; they can keep working on their own plan with even more resources and influence.

Now they just need to find something grand enough to make THE Supreme Archangel falls, and nothing is better than the Great Plan, or rather, Gabriel refusing to stick to it. This is how we land in the middle of that fateful meeting.

Obviously, everything I am about to show and explain comes down to personal interpretation, but it feels pretty sound to me.

Angels can lie. Angels can lie really well, especially Archangels whose entire job description is to keep up elaborate lies and cover stories in order to keep the system running. I watched the meeting and focused on Michael, her facial expressions, and the eye contact she makes throughout.

As they are about to reach the 'everything ends, amen' part of it, Michael and Gabriel share a look:

We get a wonderful close-up of Michael right after, and to me this looks very much like a smile, a tiny rush of excitement before they begin acting on their shared plan. Then another one when he closes his eyes. It is the timing of the looks that makes me think they're purposeful and not just casual.

And apropos timing, I have re-watched the same two seconds at different speeds like fifty times now and Michael opens her eyes before Gabriel says 'nah'. BEFORE. Saraqael does not open theirs until after, but Michael opens them on his inhale, which sounds like the beginning of Amen, so she couldn't have known what he was going to say right there and then—unless she already did.

Which means she was expecting it, this was an intentional acting choice on Doon's part.

The entire conversation after does not feel like a fight, it doesn't feel like Michael is surprised by his decision. The looks they give each other SCREAM sibling banter, and I know that because I see my sister and me in them.

"I told you you could ask" with that teasing grin and Michael looking up afterwards like "God give me strength to deal with this idiot". No anger, no disappointment, no confusing, nothing. Just mild annoyance over his behaviour.

Then, when Gabriel drops his "only Archangel in the Universe" line, does Michael look angry? Furious? ANYTHING?

No. She smiles. It is all going according to plan and Gabriel is being a little shit, but she cares about him.

Once we reach the cleaning roster, there are more looks.

Like this one before we get a close-up of Gabriel, followed by a blink and you will miss it side-eye; then the lasting look Michael gives him, not annoyed but rather checking in.

Uriel sounds properly annoyed, she looks genuinely frustrated and upset with Gabriel, which makes Michael's behaviour seem even more out of line.

To summarize what we've got so far: Michael and Gabriel came up with a plan so he could go to hell and be with Beez while Michael would take over as Supreme Archangel in heaven. In order to do so, they had to find a fire-worthy offense, and saying 'no' to heaven's Great Plan and victory over everyone and everything certainly did the trick.

For now, it's all going according to plan. However, that won't last.

I am far from done talking about this, so with a big sigh—disappointed but not surprised—I will continue this in a third part, which will be all about the trial.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

[cheeriecherrymain]

Please can we have the conclusion to the lipstick ask? I wanna hear what Viktor has to say and how he's gonna apologize for being dumb

Final (fourth) Part!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

---

Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: enthusiastic blowjobs | face sitting | Viktor being kind of a tease | vaginal fingering

---

-You stand in your doorway, frozen. Of all the people you’d expected to see at your door - a stranger, a delivery driver, one of your neighbors - Viktor is not one of them. After everything that had transpired between the two of you, you were certain that he wouldn’t have wanted to seek you out.

-After staring at him for a moment though, completely perplexed, your gaze darts downwards, to where he’d fidgeting with his hands. Or rather…to where he’s fidgeting with…a potted plant?

-It’s just a small pot, with an even smaller leafy thing in it - scraggly and viney and drooping all over the edges. The poor thing almost looks pathetic, with how wispy it is, but what’s most notable about it are its flowers.

-Bitty bundles of miniscule blooms, so pale that they almost glow in the gloom of the evening.

- “You don’t like it when people behead flowers just to give them as gifts,” Viktor says, finally breaking the silence. “You think it’s mean. But I…wanted to get you something, and you mentioned a while ago that you’d never seen the little plants that sometimes pop up between cracks in the undercity.”

-You frown slightly, trying to think back to when you’d even had that conversation. It would have been years ago, by now. Had he really somehow retained that information?

- “You said that they were hard to find,” you nod along, only somewhat remembering. “And prettier in person. Viktor, what are you doing here?”

-He glances a couple times between you and the flowers, searching desperately for words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, taking a breath to start speaking, but…nothing comes out, save for a soft croak.

-Pink rises to his cheeks, darkening to a substantial flush the longer the two of you stand there. You have half the mind to be annoyed with his sudden appearance, especially after the kind of emotional hell he’d put you through: was this him trying to apologize? Trying to make things right after carving your heart out and grinding it into-

- “I had a whole speech planned,” he finally mutters, his somewhat-hopeful expression falling. “Some grand gesture, explaining everything from my perspective. Explaining how inebriated I was over the weekend, explaining that my mind was not where it should have been.”

-Oh.

-So he’s apologizing for sleeping with you.

-...why does that hurt so much?

- “This morning, though,” he continues, “You…you said that you…told me how you felt. That you, despite all odds, have secretly been harboring romantic feelings for me for years, and I’ve been stupid and oblivious.”

-He rubs little circles into the crisp clay of the pot in his grip, his lips pressed into a thin line.

- “I don’t remember,” he admits, then.

-You’re fully taken aback.

- “I don’t remember you telling me how you felt. I don’t remember much of our conversation at all. I just…remember laughing with you. Having a good time. Feeling lighter than I have in as long as my memory goes. And I…I don’t remember a lot of what happened…later.”

-Judging by the hue of his cheeks, you know exactly what he’s referencing, and you pop out of your little trance long enough to realize that you’re still standing in the doorway of your home, out where anyone could hear what you were saying.

-Everything in you is screaming at you not to trust him, to not fall for some kind of ploy again, but you decide to ignore it: because maybe you’d been wrong from the start. Maybe you’d been given the incorrect information, and you’d made assumptions, and maybe it’s a misunderstanding.

-Unlikely, but…you’ll hate yourself for it later if you don’t at least hear him out.

-So you quietly step aside, allowing Viktor to stride into your apartment enough for you to close the door behind him. Casting you both into a new type of silence as you both idle at the end of the hallway for a couple seconds.

-Before you nod him further in, and lead him to your quaint living room. Your couches are mismatched, and dated, but they’re comfortable and you don’t really care about the fact that they clash. The two of you find your seats across from each other, and Viktor sets the little plant down on your wobbly coffee table.

-He wastes no time in continuing his explanation.

- “If I had remembered what words had been exchanged between us, I wouldn’t have called that night a mistake,” he tells you, with the utmost seriousness. “I woke up beside you with broken, mismatched fragments of everything, and I fear I pieced them together incorrectly.”

- “I assumed that you would be angry with me,” he admits. “We got drunk, we had sex - I figured-”

- “That I would have thought it was a mistake,” you finish, your shoulders drooping with the realization. “You forgot that I told you I loved you, so your mind went to the worst place. God, Viktor.”

-You push yourself off the couch and nearly trip over your own feet as you move your seat to his side. “I wish you’d just told me,” you chastise him, pressing yourself right up against his side. “We’re adults, which means we can have a grown up conversation.”

-He at least has the sense to look ashamed of his actions, even as you run your fingers through his hair and draw him into a hug.

- “I forgive you,” you sigh, squeezing him a little harder when he hesitates wrapping his arms around you, and only once he does so do you continue speaking, “But you need to stop trying to predict my reactions, okay? Even if you’re anxious about what I might say, I need you to trust that I’ll face any issues with compassion. I need you to trust me.”

-His sigh tickles the soft hairs on your neck, but you’re still able to feel the minute shift in his body as he nods.

- “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “I- okay.”

-The two of you stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness and allowing all the negative feelings from the day to slowly dissipate. And they do, eventually - as you allow his warmth to seep into your bones, your anxiety fades, your anger fades, your sadness fades - mostly.

-You’re still saddened slightly, by the fact that his first instinct was to prepare for your anger upon finding out you slept with him. But you suppose you can’t fault him too much: he’s spent most of his life being an unwanted second thought, despite the fact that you have never seen him that way.

-But…that’s a talk for another time.

-For now, you pull back from him slightly, just enough to rest your forehead against his to stare into his pretty honey eyes. You want to warn him about what you’re going to do - after everything that’s happened, you feel like you should. But he beats you to the chase.

-Closing the small gap between you, his lips find yours. Barely a fluttering touch, soft and simple, but enough to coax you forward into something deeper. Something hotter, sending off millions of little flutters within your chest as your breath mixes and you press yourself harder against him. Or perhaps he draws you in closer. 

-You’re not sure.

-You suppose it doesn’t matter.

-You’re fumbling with the buttons of his shirt after a couple of minutes, trying your best to pull away from him enough to see what you’re doing: though he’s having none of it. His lips locate some other patch of exposed skin, latching on with mischievous intent as he begins trying to leave a bruise.

- “I’m trying to get you naked,” you grumble, without any sort of malice. You can feel him grin against your throat for a moment, before he sinks his teeth in hard enough that you have to pause what you’re doing, a soft whine falling past your parted lips.

- “I’m not stopping you,” he replies, breath tickling your skin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, though you feel nothing but affection. 

-He doesn’t make removing his clothes easy for you, not by any means. He teases you relentlessly throughout the process, making little quips and remarks, just for the sake of driving you up the wall.

- “I don’t remember you being this chatty,” you huff, finally removing his shirt in the most offended manner possible. You’re covered in little bite marks by then, and riled up beyond the point of impatience: you never knew that Viktor of all people was prone to running at the mouth.

- “Perhaps you should find a way to shut me up, then?” he suggests, grinning up at you where you sit on his lap.

-It pushes you over the edge.

-You stand up without a word, shoving yourself off him in a frustrated flurry. He looks startled for a couple of moments, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head: wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if he’d overstepped, or if you’d changed your mind.

-You soften by a fraction when you realize he’s probably just nervous. He’d recently been of the mind that you were angry with him, after all, and you’re willing to bet that he’s got some residual anxiety.

- “Go and get comfy on my bed,” you tell him, nodding towards the open door that leads to your room. “If you want me to shut you up, then I’ll do so by putting your mouth to use. You seemed pretty keen on it last time, too.”

-It takes a second for him to understand what you’re implying, but the moment the pieces click into place, he’s on his feet. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quickly in all the time you’ve known him, and you worry for a brief second that he’s going to cause extra trouble for his knee later.

-But he’s eager to draw you out of your thoughts, gaining your attention once he disappears into the depths of your bedroom. “I thought you were going to do something,” he calls, and you can hear the brief shuffle of clothing, followed by the creak of your mattress.

- “Janna, you’re impatient,” you grumble, though you’re unable to hide the crooked grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

-You find him comfortably settled in the center of your bed a couple moments later, and he’s been courteous enough to divest himself of his trousers. Left them in the middle of the floor, mind you, but that’s a problem for later, you suppose. 

-He smiles sweetly at you from where he reclines against all the pillows you keep the company of, and lazily gestures towards his face. “You are taking an awfully long time,” he quips.

-You narrow your eyes at him, only breaking contact when you pull your shirt over your head. You’ve half a mind to feel shy about baring yourself to him the way you are, until you remember that you’ve been here before. He might not entirely recall all of the weekend’s events, but you’re quite certain he wouldn’t forget what you look like naked.

-Despite all this, he stares. Watches with rapt attention as you kick the rest of your clothes off and carefully fold them over the back of your door. Lets his lovely honey gaze trail across every curve of your body, almost lecherous and without an ounce of shame.

- “You’re still not sitting on my face,” he tells you, though it’s less of a demand and more of a whine. 

-In any case, you decide to have mercy on him. You slowly clamber onto your bed, and make your way up his body, stopping every couple inches to lay kisses to the pale warmth of his exposed flesh. Stopping for a few moments to tease him.

- “All we’ve been doing is kissing,” you murmur, staring down at where his cock lays against his tummy, already hard and flushed the prettiest shade of red at the tip. “You really want it, don’t you?”

-A sharp sigh passes his lips when you stoop down just slightly, to lick a flat stripe up the side. It’s barely enough to be considered pleasurable, and yet such a simple touch sends little tremors through his body. You watch entranced as a pearlescent bead wells from the tip of his cock, and begins drooling down towards his stomach.

-Well that won’t do, you think, and wrap your hand around him.

-His soft little sighs turn into broken cries, when you bring his length to your mouth. Closing your lips around him, you slowly start bobbing your head - it’s messy and filthy, and you can feel your spit dripping down over your fingers, slicking him up and making it easier to slide your fist around him.

-He’s less chatty now, as you’d put it, but he’s no quieter. Debauched little moans fall past his lips, without a care in the world, as you continue your onslaught. Tightening your hand by a fraction, stroking a little faster, sucking a little harder. You can feel his thighs quake beneath you, strung tight with pleasure.

- “Wait-” he gasps, and you freeze.

-You pull your mouth off him, worried for a moment that you’d done something wrong…until you see the way he looks at you.

-Breathless and hazy, half-lidded honey eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Looking at you like you’ve given him the moon, cheeks flushed and lips parted…

-Oh.

- “Are you really about to come?” you wonder, giving him a few teasing strokes. He whines again in response, and bats aimlessly at your hand until you finally release him.

- “Alright,” you agree, continuing your path up his body, “I guess I’ll be nice this time.” 

-You stop briefly at his face, smiling softly at him before bringing your lips together. It’s a tender kiss, almost innocent with the way you melt into each other, though it doesn’t take long for the mood to settle back in. You pull away from him, with one last bite to his bottom lip, and hoist yourself upwards.

-It’s a little bit awkward, you’ll admit, hovering above Viktor’s face like you are, rather than being on your back. Part of you worries that you might squish him, or somehow suffocate him, even though you know he’d be happy to go in such a way.

-He wraps his arms underneath your thighs, scooting you a little further up. 

-Staring at you.

-Nudging you down towards him.

-You humour him a little bit, lowering yourself down a couple centimeters, so that you’re close enough for him to reach you. But apparently it’s not enough. His grip tightens on you, and he urges you to come closer still, despite the fact that if you do, he’ll have nowhere to move his head.

- “You’re supposed to sit on my face,” he quips, with a quirk of a brow. “You know, like a chair? Sit?”

- “I don’t want to kill you or something!” you whine, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “What if I like - I dunno, break your spine? Or your jaw? Or-”

- He seems to lose some of his patience then, pulling you down with strength you didn’t realize he possessed. You gasp at the sudden shift in position, but you’re barely able to collect your thoughts before his mouth starts moving against you - and oh god you almost forgot how divine his tongue is.

-He eats you out like a man starved, working his tongue against you in differing patterns, so that you never know what to expect. Closing his lips around your clit to suck gently on it. It sends a warm wash of pleasure over you, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against it within his mouth.

-If you’d been hovering over him at that point, your legs would have given out. A cry nearly punching itself out of your lungs. The white hot, unrelenting sensation between your legs.

-You have to grip the headboard so you don’t tip over.

-Slack jawed and holding on for dear life, you cry and moan and tremble as Viktor brings you closer to the edge. Lapping up every drop of fluid as it drools out of you, as if you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.

-And oh, when he slides two slender fingers into you.

-You’re gone. Too lost in your desire to come to care much about appearances. You all but grind against his face, feeling his digits working inside you. Spreading you open to prepare you for his thick cock, curling them perfectly against that sweet little spot within you.

-You don’t even have time to warn him about your oncoming orgasm. It crests over you with sudden ferocity, tensing every muscle in your body as it fully encompasses you. All you can feel is Viktor, easing you through it, groaning as he drinks you in and witnesses you at the height of your pleasure.

-Basking in the fact that he’s the one who’s made you feel good.

-It takes a good thirty seconds for you to come back to yourself, breathless and trembling, leaning heavily against the headboard while you try to gather your thoughts.

-Viktor’s hands, slowly stroking up and down your thighs, drawing little patterns into the supple squish of your hips. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and he grins up at you with the most shit-eating expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Entirely too pleased with himself.

-You can’t help but share the sentiment, mirroring his smile.

-You crawl off him a couple moments later, now intent on bringing the same rapture to him. Only…his confident smirk turns somewhat sheepish, and the moment he turns around, you see why.

- “Viktor,” you’re barely able to withhold your delighted glee. “Did you come from eating me out?”

-You watch as an embarrassed flush travels up his neck, across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. He stumbles over his words for a few seconds, trying desperately to explain himself and promise that he’ll be ready to go again in a little while.

-But you don’t care.

-You flop down beside him, and pull him into a deep, tender kiss. Pressing your body flush against his, drawing him impossibly closer by crooking your leg over his hip.

- “You’re perfect,” you sigh, before his lips find yours again.

[rednleafff]

You better explain why leo and usagi at first became bf/bf and then broke up and then bf/bf (I think)???

Why did they break up at first?

I will try my very best to explain my idea for the Leo & Usagi story line

It will be a messy ride cause there are some parts that are missing + my English is mid so buckle up.

(Important information beforehand: this is just the base idea- things might change- but for now- it is what it is)

GOOD? FUTURE - Leo & Usagi

A little bit about Usagi yuichi first:

He’s a rabbit Yokai from another dimension, who came to this reality cause apparently his grand-grandfather was a battle Nexus champion, and Usagi is going - or at least tries to go the same path that he did, and to become the greatest Samurai there is.

He has limited time on this earth to achieve his goals before he will need to go back.

(I’ll explain later the dimensions hopping thing)

But to his surprise- to become the battle nexus champion is much more difficult than he expected - and furthermore - staying in this dimension is harder too-! So he gets a job, Between his training and fighting in the Naxus. Yep- at the pizza restaurant-

From a samurai to a waiter-

And that’s when he meets-

Him 🙄

(Around season 2)

In the classic way of serving the turtles table, Usagi got the first glimpse of Leo and instead of sharing a joke or something, the two somehow end up arguing a little bit about something, and from that day,

It was hate from first sight <3

Usagi tried not to serve them specifically but the universe had other plans and he always ended up doing it, he even asked

“You guys don’t have other places to go to??”

Which Leo replied

“I wouldn’t suggest to tell your customers to go to other places - not great for the business” or something along the lines.

It didn’t got better when the rabbit found out they were Ninja’s as well, and that Leo specifically used a sword similar to him- like- this loud mouth, arrogant- Kappa???

They were more similar that they wanted to admit.

In Leo’s end, he thought messing with Usagi was more funny than actually disliking him? He wasn’t a fan of him don’t get him wrong, he tolerated him at most-

Until some shenanigans happen- I think Leo was on another adventure with hueso that involved Usagi somehow and the two ended up fighting along side each other-

Which Usagi hated fighting along side a ninja but Leo? He thought he was pretty cool- and even tried to befriend Usagi, but the rabbit didn’t want to waste his time on building friendships when his time here were limited, and he will probably will end up leaving and never seeing them again, so he brushed Leo off, which only causes Leo to annoy the hell out of him even more.

I believe it’s only the beginning point of Leo starting to look on Usagi in a more positive light, so no crushes yet-

And from this point forward, the two will meet more and more by accident- or fate- hehe- and fight alongside at times, until one point that Leo said he could take Usagi out with ease- (he actually meant it as a joke- but Usagi took it seriously) and excepted the challenge- cause he will gladly fight and WIN against Leo who- he totally didn’t learn to appreciate a little bit and absolutely didn’t maybe like the times the hang out together- even though most of the time he was his waiter or they where in a life and death situation- that’s not the point-

And that’s when they started to fight aka train together. Their first fight , I’m not sure yet who won actually hehe- BUT since their first fight together, Leo took notes on Usagi fighting abilities, you know- just in case, and in their first fight, Usagi noticed how well Leo predicts his moves, a little to well-! And that’s annoys him as well- cause he’s not predictable!! Or so he believes.

So from fighting it became training, it didn’t happen often, cause each had there own life, but if they did train, it wasn’t in the turtle lair, but on a building roof top or something, and usually by accidentally meeting each other cause to this point- they don’t have each-others phone numbers yet-

BUT EVERYTHING CHANGED WHEN THE SHREDDER ATTACKED.

Usagi, used to see the turtles at leastttt once a week in a random pizza night, suddenly noticed he haven’t heard from them two or three weeks already. Not that he care or anything- they weren’t friends- or something- sure did he enjoy talking with the Red one the most and likes the orange one good energy? Sure sure, just a casual relationship nothing more. Did he get a weird side eye from the purple one that made him feel like he kinda hates his guts? Maybe- he didn’t like them either! They were Annoying as hell too-!

And sure, maybeeee it was nice to talk to someone once in a while, and train with another person, who for some reason kinda gets him but he also wants to push him off a building, his dumb, smug face and his stupid very un-funny (funny) jokes Leonardo might - not be as bad as he originally thought. But again, not friends or anything-

So he totally wasn’t absolutely relived when he saw the gang again , some bandages up, some not, but something felt different, they acted the same but with sense of tension between them. They didn’t elaborate why they were missing for so long- obviously- not friends- remember? But just knowing they were alright was enough for Usagi.

His and Leo’s next meeting was a bit different. The blue one came to the restaurant alone, which did happen sometimes, but instead of going to mess with his boss, or think which Pizza will be the best way to say “I’m sorry”, he just set there all by himself for sometimes now it actually made him feel somewhat bad for him so he tried to- well- he wasn’t sure.

He came up to him and they started to talk a little, it was clear Leo wasn’t in a mood cause he said something like

“Why do you even care?”

He didn’t-! He just tried- to be- nice!

So he went- only to comeback not even 5 minutes later cause ok maybe he did care a little bit-

And they talk for awhile, it’s probably their first conversation that Leo is so open with Usagi. About he’s new role as a leader, which Usagi thought was great-! Being a leader is an honorable position, but Leo explains to him why it didn’t make any sense- which was like??? Usagi was used to arrogant, high confidence, mr. can’t do no wrong cause he’s great in everything Leo and suddenly hearing him being so- unsure of himself- was - odd. So odd that Usagi had to say something- and maybe he came off a little strong with his opinion statement which was

“Are you a complete idiot?”

Sue him-! He did continue by saying that- even though sure Leo wasn’t perfect, from the moments he saw, he has all the qualities

Of a good leader. And the smug he got from Leo kinda made him want to punch him in the face, but they end it on a good tone, couple of pizza boxes to go and finally Leo asked for his number, because APPARENTLY they were friends- and they should be able to contact each other if needed.

The next couple of months, they trained more and more together, Leo may or may not, choose to- run away from a problem by - literally being away from the house when he could, that’s when these two started to get a little bit closer and Usagi told h about his plans with the battle Nexus. He in fact didn’t believe Leo when he told h that he’s a battle nexus champion -

But he was also worried for him, apparently he and a raph were fighting - well 9/10

Of the time. He didn’t want this role and act like that- and when Usagi tried to talk to him about it, Leo would brush it off by leaving or changing the topic.

So imagine to his surprise when one day- apparently something something- aliens attack the human world - something something- everything is ok now- and Leo doesn’t pick up his damn phone even though he was the one to insist to have each others phone numbers so they could communicate!!!

No pressure, I mean what’s the worst that could happen? He did and Usagi will never know? Pfff yea right.

Right?

He wasn’t pleased to say the least when he found out what happened. And what state all the turtle were. He didn’t know to much, just that they were a little bit to hurt to get outside at the moment. That new guy Casey Jr invited him to come and visit, which surprised April the human girl that was with him, APPARENTLY- Our dear fearless leader Leo, didn’t tell anyone- ANYONE- about him getting close to Usagi, or training together?? Talking like- for literally hours?? No? No one? Well apparently that Casey boy knows something- even though Usagi never met him before-

It was devastating to find out Leo’s state, even though he acted - alright , and i guess he went through some character development cause the air between the got a whole lot lighter :)

Leo was also surprised to see Usagi, and then getting a while lecture about the point of a phone, which he replied that he got kinda destroyed, so any complaints send it to the manager of the Kraang, which Usagi didn’t really understand what’s a Kraang, and Leo wasn’t so quickly ready to talk about it either.

Some might say that from this point, Leo was kinda into Usagi, seeing a more caring side of him, after kinda admiring his motivation and fighting skills. Which wasn’t so great cause Usagi didn’t feel the same yet. He was wayyy to focused on his goal which ok- cool but like an imagine having your goal and a boyfriend?

Leo didn’t push to hard even though his dear brothers teased the hell out of him about it.

Once again- shenanigans happens. This time, Usagi tries again and fails to in the last battle of becoming the champion, and so he starts to take the training much more seriously. He tries to tone down with every diversion, and just to focus on this one thing-

But alas Leo. And it will become a problem, cause Usagi doesn’t want to go back home a disappointment, and the stress starts to get to him. He has this weird feelings towards Leo that he avoids, and nothing goes right for him, so he might be a little snappy and agitated. Something something- after some drama , new realizations , help from Leo and understanding that- his path won’t be the same as his grand-grandfather and it’s ok to fail and it’s ok to have goals but not to let them consume you and make you push other people away- especially the one you love,

Love? Yep apparently he like Leo

Well shit.

Leo doesn’t know Usagi will have to leave eventually, Usagi doesn’t want to let this- whatever this thing that goes between them to keep growing cause it will be doomed eventually- it won’t work - it can’t work! And yet-

They end up dating after some heartfelt confessions, Usagi tells him about the fact he has to leave this dimension eventually, and Leo tells him that until then- they can make the most of it.

Meanwhile he and the other turtles, help Usagi to train better for the battle Nexus, and he wins in the end, becoming a champion and all- but-

He didn’t admit out loud be he wasn’t happy with it- it was his only reason to stay here and now that it’s over?

And Leo helped him with it knowing that it will probably end with them breaking up and never seeing each other again- so why? Why did he helped him?

“Because it’s important to you”

He said,

“And you’re important to me”

Since when he was such a romantic?

They are about 19 years old close to 20.

And the portal to Usagi’s worlds will open soon and the next one will open only couple years later if at all-

(The portal basically opens with some magical phenomenal from Yuichi’s world)

they act like everything is ok up until couple of days before Yuichi leaves.

They like to pretend like everything was ok, even though they both knew they will have to talk about it eventually.

And it happens the night he suppose to leave- Leo admits that- if they could do it all again, he wouldn’t wasted so much time on teasing and would have asked him out a lot earlier, which Yuichi replies with

“It wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t say yes”

And Leo would answer with

“I wouldn’t stop asking then until you would say yes”

Y: “that’s harassment”

L: potato tomato

Y: I’m pretty sure the saying is “ potato potatoes”?

They laugh it off and then they will actually talk, I won’t write the conversation just yet hehe

It will be the first time they both admit they actually love each other (rather then liking)

Leo doesn’t ask him to stay, he can’t, ask him to give up his family for him.

Yuichi wants him to ask him to stay but he’s not sure he could really say yea to that-

It was doomed from the start, and they both knew that.

Fast forward ~

5 years later

Who’s back in town?

Out rabbit that right.

There are 2 portals with a gape of 2 weeks between them so he decides to come and visit -

The last couple of years

We’re

Something that’s for sure.

And he’s very very surprised seeing Leo with a freaking human baby-

But it’s very odd to talk to Leo suddenly. He really did change- and so did he.

He goes home after these 2 weeks

And thinks. About everything. About his life, about his goals, dreams, wants.

And in all of them he thinks about Leo.

The next time he visits it’s 2 years later. Yummi - the baby- is 4 years old and she’s a cheeky little girl, which isn’t surprising if Leo raised her.

This time the next portal will open only half a year away- and close for at least another 6 years-

In that time he’s doing a lot of thinking

Serious thinking about his future

Present

And past.

About everything.

One evening, the three of them are coming back home- Leo’s home- after some shenanigans. Leo has to play the soundtrack of high school musical 2 cause Yummi recently watched the movies and is very much obsessed with the songs + music in the car is a very effective way to make her sleepy. and the mission succeed! She falls asleep, leaving the other too with the tuns of “gotta go my own way” from the second movie- which they sing together very passionately cause nothing beats karaoke night !!

Just to make it clear- they are no longer together, they are “just friends”

They get home, Yuicihi putting her to bed while Leo checks up on splinter who’s also asleep and then comes back to Yummi’s room where Yuichi is still there, saying something like

“Thank you for the help, you really don’t have to do all this”

And Yuichi answers

“Of course I do. She’s important to you, and you’re important to me”

They talk a little bit more after that-

And come to the conclusion that they might - can - if the other one wants - to try - maybe - date -

Again ?

And when Leo asked him about returning to his own dimension, Yuichi replies that- he would like to stay as long as Leo is willing to have him here-

And from that point onwards- they are together again- :>

There is more stuff in the future but I digress-

Wow that was longer then I expected it to be- ops-

I hope everything is written clear enough- hehe

[ouroborosorder]

OK but when you're free of all the other obligations and able to do it can we get the Ines skin writeup anyway because I liked the Eine Variation one and why do they keep giving Caprinae ops skin like this do they just hate goats at hypergryph or what

Okay so I got this ask a month and a half ago and am just now getting to responding to it. In that time, I got a job as a professional VFX artist so my opinion means double what it did before. So that's fun! Respect me and bow to me, peasants.

I wrote a massively long writeup here and then my page refreshed and I lost all of it twice. Let's speedrun this shit, alright? (She says, immediately writing a 5 page unhinged rant.)

This skin sucks because of the exact opposite reason Eine Variation does, it's just too fucking detailed for its own good.

...Also what the fuck is that in the background is that a goddamned alien spaceship has anyone else noticed this?? This is a bloodline of combat skin this is canon does ines just fight aliens at some point what the FUCK?

Anwyay VFX in the readmore.

Deploy animation. I hate you. I hate this. I hate it.

It's rare I get to see an entire skin's mistakes in microcosm like this! That's fun!

This is so detailed that it actually ceases to have any real shape or identity. This doesn't look like shadow, because skins can just. Change character lore to make something look cool yes I'm still mad. Is it stars? That would explain the weird yellow dots, and there are stars in the art. Fire? No, it's not actually fire, there'd be fire here. Burning fabric? It only looks like that if I squint and zoom in, but I can't... think of anything else.

The colors are so awful. The way that there is a hard line between the dark lavender and the scarlet which then fades into orange is. A choice. I would not have made. At all. In any way. Ever. At any point. Also the random dots of yellow are very funny because they are so clearly just random pixels of yellow. Some of them even aren't in the orange, so they're just like, highlights that have decided to break out of the highlighted areas. Did they.. want this to look like her burning dress? In which case, why are they.. blue? Her dress is black with orange embers, I don't GET IT.

Also small thing but it has a drop shadow, but like. She's literally in all black until she fully appears. And the swirling ribbons are dark-colored. There's no worry about them not standing out against a light background. Is that just supposed to look like she's surrounded by shadow if that's the case then why isn't the rest of this shadow AGH.

This looks weirdly... JPEG compressed??? Like, you can kiiinda see it in the big version, but if I shrink this down to phone resolution...

GOOD LORD SHE'S BEEN DEEP-FRIED.

S1 is good. I like it. It's simple, elegant. Good use of colors, and I think the impact looks great, good use of red and orange to create visual interest. Not gonna bother to screenshot it, it's not that interesting NEXT

S2!

Stop it. Stop it. Put a few colors away. I am counting 8 distinct colors in this one swing alone, and then two more for Ines herself. Stop it. That is too many colors. Add less colors.

I don't even see what the colors are there FOR. Are they selling the tip of the swing? That's not right, because the red highlights start at the tip, then swirl inwards until the red is in the inner part.

I do actually think this one is a lot better at actual resolution.

It's still too detailed, and that detail ends up being crunched and not really... serving any purpose in the grand scheme of the effect, but I do think it is... better. It makes it more clearly light on the outside, dark on the inside.

Also I hate the ends of this swing. I hate it. Why is one a perfect circle that's been stretched out and the other end a rectangle that's fading out. Why is that how you did this. This effect looks like two different swings that have been stapled together like goddamned Catdog.

BUT WHEN IT FADES IT HAS AN INKBRUSH LOOK SO WHAT IS THIS EFFECT.

Why not lean into the burning dress look? Have it be a black trail that like, burns away when it fades? That would be STUNNING, anything but. Whatever is happening here. Mrgrgr okay fine it can't get worse right

DEAR READER. I PRESENT. S3. THE CULMINATION OF EVERY SINGLE PROBLEM.

So this IS a stars theme after all. This IS stars? Just wanna make sure we're all on the same fucking page here.

Dear reader. I hate this. So fucking much. This may be, and I do truly mean this, the worst piece of VFX I have ever seen in any game. This doesn't read as a piece of VFX in an anime game, it reads like the background of a YA fantasy novel's cover.

The nebula doesn't move. It's static. It is clearly just a jpeg. It's not even doing the Chowder screen-space orientation thing. It's just. There. Inescapable.

The comet itself just. Ends. It doesn't fade out or taper. It just. Stops. There's barely any anti-aliasing here. It's just a hard line between the comet and the background.

Ines herself is surrounded by identical dark lavender and orange energy, so there's no visible difference between the effect and herself. Sure. It's not going to be onscreen long anyway. Who cares.

The center of the comet is bright white as if it's the highlight of the effect, but it's... it's off-center?? so it's ultimately... Highlighting something. is it highlighting the sword? Is it supposed to be a haze that shows you the sword? But it doesn't look like it because it took me 15 minutes while writing this to realize that the sword was there at all because it's the same orange color as all the other highlights and so it gets eaten. If your highlight color stops drawing my eye, then you've fucked up because that is literally what a highlight color is supposed to do. Where am I supposed to look at this thing, where is the focus, the shape?

It's even funnier that the blade leaves a little cartoony goofy team rocket blink when it leaves, before immediately turning into whatever public domain NASA star image they're using for the comet. A real glimpse into what it would look like if Spiderverse sucked ass. (I do like the blink itself tho, a small little blue haze to add color and contrast against light backgrounds, smart touch.)

Explosion sucks. Suddenly they decide the palette is something entirely different. Where did the yellow come from. Yellow isn't even on the art. I guess when your palette is that big, you can change them up how you want. I would actually like this effect if it was slightly less detailed and in a skin that had actually used this pallette. It reminds me a bit of Specter the Laurentina. But with this level of detail and these colors... This somehow looks more like a YA book cover. A Sword of Goats and Stars. Fuck me I hate it.

I almost like this buff uptime indicator, It's just that the red from the swords fades into the orange on her dress and makes the whole thing muddy. Also she has an actual roiling flame behind her LMAO GET DUNKED ON HOEDERER THAT'S RIGHT I WILL DUNK ON HIM EVERY TIME EVEN THIS PIECE OF TRASH HAS ONE UP ON THE HOE LMAOOOOO

(In fact I actually... think this might be a recurring texture? It looks familiar, but I can't pin down from where. This is a bad screenshot for showing it but I'm not bothering to get a new one. This is my mental breakdown and I get to choose the visual aids.)

Anyway, maybe I'm being mean. After all I'm criticizing an effect for being too detailed when I am actively zooming in and looking at the details. So let's shrink down to the resolution of my phone just to see how it would-

Ah.

Final Ouroboros VFX ranking: A jpeg compressed photo of a wizard airbrushed on a van / 18 Originium Prime. Actually wait no that sounds too cool. Uh. The wizard is also racefaking. Now it's no longer cool. Nailed it.

[bi-bard]

You're the First Glimmer of Hope I've Had in a Long Time - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: You're the First Glimmer of Hope I've Had in a Long Time

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader (use of they/them pronouns for the Reader)

Word Count: 6,194 words

Warning(s): brief violence, descriptions of manipulation, mention of violence/trauma at the hands of the Darkling

Summary: The Winter Fete has arrived. It brings games, excitement, and brilliant performances. None more brilliant than that of the Sun Summoner, who is about to make their public debut.

Author's Note: What? Kyli taking a break from writing challenges to update an OC that she hasn't talked about in ages? Wow.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

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

Festivals were never a part of (Y/n)'s life in Ketterdam.

No, the city known for being lined with misfortune and grief was never known for putting on grand parties.

That must have been why (Y/n) was so focused on the sight outside their window. Why they couldn't pull their eyes from the carts being pulled in toward the main entrance. Performers of all sorts. Guests being brought to see them.

If the dread wasn't a heavy enough weight in their stomach, the anxiousness from the thought of a crowd watching them surely would be.

(Y/n) had become so focused on the bustling sounds outside that they hadn't noticed the doors opening and Genya walking in.

"Enjoying the festivities," she asked.

(Y/n) tried to hide any shock that may have presented itself. "From through a window, in a room with a locked door."

She hummed. "Come on. We have to get you ready."

There was a huff and some rolled eyes before (Y/n) finally plopped themself in the chair in front of the Tailor.

"You could pretend to be interested in all of this," Genya suggested. "It is all in celebration of you."

"It's not," (Y/n) replied. "It's a celebration of an idea of me. One that I may never well become."

There wasn't a response from the fellow Grisha. Instead, she reached out and touched (Y/n)'s face. There was so much concern etched onto her expression that it almost knocked the wind out of (Y/n). They had been too harsh.

"Sorry," they muttered. Genya wasn't at fault for (Y/n)'s predicament.

"No need," Genya forced a grin before going to sort through her case. "I understand your feelings about this all. Your stay, your gift, men like Kirigan."

"Speaking of...," (Y/n) grumbled. "Is the black necessary?"

"He insisted."

"It just feels like he's putting me on a leash. 'Look at my shiny pet'."

"You wore black before... almost exclusively."

"Of my will. It was different then. Better."

Genya nodded. "Well, I promise to make this feel right. More like you than him."

"Thank you."

It was then that the door to the room opened again. In walked David, the resident Fabrikator, with two gloves in his hands. They were tied together with a blue ribbon.

(Y/n) stood up rather abruptly, ever cautious of new people. Even more cautious of gifts that were coming from a place like the Little Palace.

"The General had me make these for your demonstration," David explained, holding them out. (Y/n) took them, turning them over in their hands.

"They're lovely," Genya complimented.

"What is their purpose," (Y/n) asked.

David grinned, clearly proud of his work. "They'll make it easier to split one beam into two."

"I see," (Y/n) mused. They gently placed the gloves on the nearby table.

David's grin fell as he watched the sun summoner easily turn one beam into two, allowing it to flutter around the space in front of them.

"While I appreciate the offer, I will be quite alright without them."

"Would you not like to try them?"

"Is there a reason that I should when I just showed you that I was perfectly capable of performing on my own?"

David took a breath before clearing his throat and taking the gloves. He walked out of the room again.

Genya's voice stopped him at the door. "See you at the Fete!"

David merely shared a look with her before leaving. A look that lasted far too long for it to be called polite or friendly. It almost made (Y/n) chuckle. How could two people be so blind that they couldn't see that they were sharing such a longing look?

"Come on then," Genya said. "We have to make sure that you're ready."

(Y/n) merely nodded, biting back any knowing look that wanted to form.

The final step of Genya's work was carefully placing a ring on (Y/n)'s finger. She explained that it was a symbol of luck. A personal gift from her. (Y/n) made no effort to argue. Some battles were not worth fighting.

Genya proceeded to drag (Y/n) through the halls of the Little Palace. There was some muttering about the kefta and how lovely it was going to look.

(Y/n) didn't believe her. Not truly. But who were they to crush Genya's spirits more than once in a day?

Instead, (Y/n) kept their attention trained outside, watching what festivities they could through the window.

Their walk was interrupted quite abruptly. (Y/n)'s eyes were dragged from the window to see Kirigan standing there.

"I was just going to find you," he explained. "I was hoping to discuss tonight's event."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, pushing their shoulders back to appear taller. "I was on my way to get ready."

"I will happily discuss the events while we walk to your fitting."

Genya and (Y/n) shared a look. (Y/n)'s was begging Genya to come up with some excuse why they could not go wandering off with the man who kidnapped them. Genya's was quietly pushing (Y/n) to just follow the general and get the conversation over with.

Kirigan motioned down the hall, pushing (Y/n) to walk with him.

As they walked forward, Kirigan fell into step. His hands were behind his back, a smug grin on his face. In his mind, this was the first step toward his goal. His future. A new age that he was prepared to usher in.

"How are you feeling," he asked, maintaining his act of care. Not mere kidnapper, but something close to a friend. It was not having as strong of an effect as he wished that it had.

"Fine," (Y/n) answered simply. Short answers were not unknown between the two of them.

"You decided against the gloves," Kirigan noted.

"I did not come here as a beginner," (Y/n) explained. "I have no need for them."

"They were a mere safeguard anyway," he replied. "In case of nerves."

"Luckily for you, I have learned to perform under pressure," (Y/n) shrugged. "I do not need any of them. Especially not from you."

Kirigan would have much more to say if they hadn't reached (Y/n)'s fitting room.

"Goodbye, Kirigan."

"Good luck, (Y/n)."

The door to the room opened and closed quickly, leaving little time for Kirigan to attempt another conversation.

(Y/n) was immediately pulled in a thousand directions. They knew that rest would not be offered until it was time to be presented before the crowd arriving for the event.

If only they had known about the plan unfolding just under their nose.

If they hadn't been so hidden, then they would have. Kaz's plans had become very familiar to them, as if there were a signature on them. Like an artist would to a painting.

While the dear Sun Summoner was being escorted, poked, tempted, and prepared to be put on show like a cow being taken to market, the Crows were making their moves around the Little Palace.

It all started with the layout of the palace. Kaz sneaking in as a guard and finding the fitting room that had been hidden by a door with no handle. Jesper looking for the perfect escape course for the soon-to-be-reunited group. Inej taking on the role of a performer to make it onto the grounds.

Once that had been done and the quartet had reconvened, it was time to put the proper plan into action. This was not merely collecting information. This was going in and returning with the person that mattered to them.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper maintained their acts. They knew how to get to the main event and how to find the one that they needed to.

And then, there was the Conductor, who had become a much different part of this than he originally thought that he would be.

He was their distraction. Their hope of pulling the attention of General Kirigan away long enough to get to their dear missing Crow.

Night had fallen.

The Crows were in place.

The Conductor was just approaching the entrance.

And (Y/n) had just been guided to the main hall.

They never realized just how accustomed they had become to hiding in the shadows. How comforting being unknown had become to them.

They stepped into the room, dawning a black kefta with bright gold details. They were met by countless stares, each one more stunned than the next. Every single one of them felt too intrusive. (Y/n) wanted to go back to being hidden. They wanted to go back to being with their Crows.

If only they knew just how close that trio was.

Kirigan stood with a confident smirk on his face. A proud owner. The kefta had been a leash. 'Look at that. It's my new pet. So well-behaved, aren't they?' It made (Y/n)'s stomach churn.

He approached them. "The color suits you."

"When it's of my own choosing."

"Behave," he scolded quietly.

"Don't make it so difficult."

There was a deep breath taken by the general before he offered a hand to them. "Come on. We have a performance to give them."

Kaz and Inej were just stepping into the main hall, each one adorned in the outfit of the guards. Neither one of them truly knew what to expect of that night. But during such unprecedented times, who truly did?

They watched as Kirigan stepped onto the small, lifted platform.

Kaz found his eyes drifting just in front of the stage. He found the back of a black kefta with intricate detailing. He knew who he was watching. He also knew that he could do nothing about that.

Inej stepped away from him, finding a place with a clear view of the stage.

(Y/n) stepped on the stage after Kirigan, stepping behind him so he could look out at the audience surrounding him.

"This is (Y/n) (Y/l/n)," Kirigan announced. "And they will bring liberation to us all."

(Y/n) had to fight any urge to lower their head or close their eyes. They had to fight to not hide from the crowd watching them. They hid that urge well... from the ones who didn't know them.

Kirigan stepped off the stage, taking a few steps forward before bringing his hands together in front of them. The sharp slap was accompanied by quick-moving darkness that consumed the audience. Maybe that was for the best.

(Y/n) lift their hands, moving them until a circle had formed in front of them. Another sphere formed in the other hand. With a deep breath, they casted it forward, forcing the light to consume the dark. It was an explosion, one that left the room speechless.

As the atmosphere settled around them, murmuring started. Small whispers of 'Sankta (Y/n)' filled the room as people began to kneel and touch their foreheads and then their hearts.

(Y/n) dragged their eyes along the crowd.

It was then that someone stuck out. Someone familiar. It was a matter of seconds before they were seemingly gone.

Inej.

(Y/n) would always recognize the Crows. No matter how long it had been or what was going on in the world around them. They would always recognize the Crows.

And if Inej was here, then that meant that (Y/n) may finally be free.

(Y/n) played the role of polite and kind well as they made their way off the stage. They bowed their head and thanked people, trying to make their movements seem less intentional than they were.

Maybe if Kirigan hadn't been pulled away, he would have paid more attention to them.

There was another Grisha whispering in his ear that distracted him.

News of a man reporting to have found the Stag.

In his hand was a letter promising a location in exchange for a meeting with the General. The only reason that he had been trusted was because the only people meant to know of the Stag was the First Army. This man would not arrive with a lie of something he should have no knowledge of.

The man had been guided to a room. Kirigan's chambers, to be specific. He was told to wait there. Kirigan would be there to speak with him soon.

The man- the Conductor- did not heed such warnings.

Again, his role was not what he thought it was. His goal was much different than the three criminals he had brought across the Fold.

They intended to bring home their dear friend. He intended to kill the Sun Summoner before the revolution of West Ravka could be stopped.

He found the hidden room easily. (Y/n) was sitting near a mirror, getting ready for the dinner that was going to occur that night.

He was silent as he stepped forward. He quietly, effortlessly grabbed (Y/n)'s head and pulled it back enough to drag a blade along their throat, leaving them bleeding and gasping for air.

Unbeknownst to him, Kaz knew that this was going to happen.

Just as he knew that the person the Conductor had just killed wasn't the Sun Summoner. It was all merely a trick. One meant to lure in whoever was dumb enough to take the bait.

The Conductor was found outside the fitting room, knife in his hand, and no ounce of regret sitting on his face. He was dragged away to a place where he could be held until the general was able to speak to him.

While the chaos was unfolding, (Y/n) was busy finding whoever they had spotted in the main event.

Escaping the guards was easy enough. Old tricks and techniques got them away for long enough that they were allowed to trace the halls freely. Too many people were focused on the main event to notice them moving.

They just needed to know the truth. They needed to know if this was truly the day that everything was made right.

They had become so fixated on finding whoever they had seen that they weren't paying enough attention to the world around them. Such a failure resulted in a sudden shock when they were grabbed and dragged into another room.

They shoved themself away from the body that had grabbed them to see a guard standing calmly. She had let (Y/n) go quite easily. This was no fight or murder attempt. It was simply an act to save some time in the long run.

"What are you doing," (Y/n) asked.

They looked around the room quickly. It was dark. There was a large round table with figures and maps thrown all around it. There was another room where (Y/n) could just barely see the edge of a mattress. It was someone's chambers, (Y/n) just wasn't sure whose.

"Answer me," they demanded.

"I am merely an aid," the guard replied.

There was the sound of a creaking door being opened. (Y/n) turned around quickly, hands raised to fight off whatever attacker was there.

There was no attacker.

"Baghra," (Y/n) said. "What do you want? Where am I?"

"I'm here to protect you," she explained. "Come on."

(Y/n) didn't flinch.

"You don't know where you are, do you," she tilted her head. "Kirigan could come back at any moment if you wait here."

(Y/n) stepped forward, whispering angrily, "You dragged me into the chambers of the man holding me hostage?"

"If there were any other option, I would have chosen it. Now, come on."

There was a quiet huff before (Y/n) stepped inside the passageway that had been hidden behind some bookcase.

"I am trying to get you out of here," she continued as the pair moved. "Save you from living your life as a slave."

"I don't need your help-"

"Yes, because your precious Crows are here, I know."

(Y/n) stopped abruptly. "They are? Truly?"

"You didn't know?"

"I thought that I was imagining things."

Baghra let out a sigh before continuing to push them along.

"Why help me now? You have had ages to protect me. To get me out."

"I didn't have a way to get you out without being caught. The guards and Aleksander have kept a close eye on you until tonight. Might be something your Crows did."

It was. (Y/n) just didn't know that yet.

"Aleksander intends to use your power to expand the Fold," she continued. "Weaponize it. That's what he created it for in the first place."

"The Black Heretic created the Fold," (Y/n) corrected. "Hundreds of years ago. Kirigan- Aleksander- whoever he is may want to weaponize it, but he didn't create it."

"Is it truly impossible?"

(Y/n) paused. Grisha aged slower than normal humans, that was true. "I thought that the Black Heretic was killed for what he had done."

"Is that what Aleksander told you?"

Another pause. No. (Y/n) had heard that ending to the story somewhere else, hadn't they? They wouldn't have blindly trusted his word if they had never heard about it before, would they?

Most people left out what happened immediately after the creation of the Fold. They usually jump to the impact of it. Where Ravka was now.

Baghra's story was adding up much faster than (Y/n) thought it would.

"Child, Aleksander is the Black Heretic," Baghra said. "He chose a nobleman's name to hide after he had created the Fold. And he made himself a hero."

(Y/n) didn't truly doubt the story, but they needed the confirmation. They stopped walking. "How do you know this?"

"How do you think I know this?"

Baghra waved her hand and darkness began to fill the halls around them.

"You're related," (Y/n) concluded.

"More than a mere relation," she replied.

"You're his mother."

"Yes."

"You're his mother and you have done nothing for centuries?"

Baghra didn't respond, merely staring at the Sun Summoner in silence.

"You were steps away from your son, you knew what he had done, and yet you did nothing to stop it?"

"Do you believe that I have the power to tear down the Fold? To reverse the unimaginable?"

"No," (Y/n) shook their head. "I'm not talking about the Fold. I mean everything that he did after it. Young Grisha, young boys and girls forced to join armies... helpless women forced to play his game. You could have protected them. Stopped him from manipulating them and twisting them and... using them."

"He has had a long time to master the art of manipulating young, naive girls."

"And you have had just as long to master how to stop him from doing so."

"Who exactly do you so desperately want me to protect?" Baghra stepped closer to (Y/n). "You have made no friends here. No connections. Who are you so desperate to help?"

Genya. Of course, it was Genya. The one person that (Y/n) saw every day. She was far too familiar to (Y/n) for them to not feel a desperation to pull the young woman to freedom and peace. Not that Genya would ever follow them. She was stuck too far under Kirigan's thumb.

And Zoya, who had been one of few to look at (Y/n) with some kind of genuine respect. The only one to see beyond the Grisha abilities and see someone clever and talented. She was strong enough to fight back. She probably would have helped Baghra tear down Kirigan's little empire if he hadn't gotten such a firm hold on her.

(Y/n) would never say either of these names. They were still too apprehensive about the woman's intentions to allow her such information.

"It's bold of you to blame me for my son's crimes," Baghra continued. "My son tried to create his own army using merzost. He didn't think about the people who lived there... what such power would do to them. Turned them into the twisted, evil things that attacked you."

"The Volcra."

"Tell me, is that my fault?"

"I never said it was," (Y/n) replied. "I just wish you had taken action before you knew of my existence. I should not be the only thing inspiring you to be better."

Baghra took a deep breath before shaking her head. She walked to a heavy-looking door and pulled it open. "You need to go. Now. Take that path. You must hide. You already almost gave him the Stag, don't give him your power too."

(Y/n) never told Kirigan of the Stag. They had only told Genya. Survival is a powerful motivator.

"Follow the main path until the fork," Baghra advised, not following (Y/n) beyond the entrance. "Turn right. Wait there. There's food there. I have some Grisha that are loyal to me. They'll keep you safe until I can devise a plan. Go."

(Y/n) didn't listen. They followed the main path, but at the fork, they went left. Baghra's interest was one that they didn't want to entertain any more than they had Kirigan's.

Relief didn't cross (Y/n)'s face until they made it to the stables.

After stealing some clothes and narrowly avoiding some guards, (Y/n) stepped out into the main field. The new clothes didn't fit right, but they did what was necessary. All (Y/n) needed was something to last long enough for them to leave.

There was a carriage waiting there. It seemed like an easy enough plan. Steal the carriage or at least a horse and make it out before Kirigan truly knew they were missing.

"(Y/n)."

They froze, ready to fight whoever had spoken. They were met with Jesper standing before them.

They never realized how comforting his face was. Not until the mere sight of him forced a shaky sigh to escape them. The relief that crashed over them at the sight of him, alive and well and here.

"Jesper..."

(Y/n)'s voice was weak. Weaker than Jesper had ever heard it before. But that wasn't what worried him most. What worried him most were the tears sitting in (Y/n)'s eyes, waiting to fall.

He found himself angry. Angrier than ever before. What had they done here? What had these people done to his best friend? And how long was it going to take for him to shoot them all for it?

He decided to hide his seething anger with some light humor, "You doubted that I'd find you?"

Never. That was what (Y/n) wanted to say. They never doubted him or Inej or Kaz. They were simply too overwhelmed to get the words out. Too overwhelmed by anger toward Kirigan and those who had lied to protect him and his plans. Too overwhelmed by relief at the knowledge that it had been Inej standing there in the room of unfamiliar faces.

Instead of speaking, (Y/n) took a few more stumbling steps forward, falling unceremoniously into Jesper's arms, tightly wrapping their arms around his torso. Jesper quietly hushed them as he felt them shaking. He mumbled small words of comfort, but he was certain that none of them had any impact. He just wanted to know that he had tried.

There was a sound somewhere. Some kind of distant crash in the direction that (Y/n) had come from.

"Get in," Jesper dragged them over to a crate on the back of the carriage. They listened to him, curling in on themself so he could get the lid shut and leave them in darkness.

(Y/n) could hear a few faint voices outside, but they were too quiet to recognize. That was okay. Jesper would keep them safe. They believed that.

For the first time in ages, they let their eyes close and their breath even out.

The carriage didn't stop until early morning. (Y/n) only knew due to the small amount of light poking through the small cracks in the wood.

The lid opened and Jesper's face once again took on a form of comfort. He offered a hand to them.

They stood up and carefully climbed out of the box. Inej and Kaz were standing there, Kaz with little to no expression and Inej with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Jesper made sure that (Y/n) was steady on the ground before smiling proudly at the other two.

"Hello," (Y/n) said softly. They decided to try to pull some tension away from the situation. "Took you guys long enough-"

The joke barely left their lips before Inej stepped forward and wrapped them in a tight hug. They hugged her back, eyes screwing shut as they let out a heavy sigh.

"I've missed you," they muttered to her.

Inej stepped back and touched their face. "I missed you too."

"I saw you. At the Fete. You were watching the presentation."

She slowly bowed her head.

"Please don't do that," (Y/n) begged. "I don't want you to see me as anything other than your friend. I am no Saint."

"Ravka would disagree," Kaz's voice chimed in. He had both of his hands clasped on the top of his cane. They were shifting a bit, as if he was physically trying to keep himself from stepping forward and wrapping his arms around (Y/n).

"Hi," (Y/n) grinned at him.

He nodded. "Hi."

There was a long pause as the two of them watched each other. Each one deciding who should make the next move. Each of them deciding what an acceptable next move would be. They had been waiting for the moment when they faced each other again and neither one of them had bothered to consider what they should do when it finally happened.

"Well," Jesper clapped as he finally spoke. "I am starving. Shall we?"

"Find a safe place first," Kaz said. "We can't have (Y/n) walking around in the open. Too much of a risk."

"Fine," Jesper muttered, rolling his eyes.

The quartet found shelter in a rundown house of sorts. One that hid them well but gave them enough room to see if any unwelcomed guests were to join them.

Inej and Jesper went out on a search for food. Kaz insisted on staying with (Y/n). It was for protection... and not at all because of how much time he had lost with them. No, no, that would be a foolish reason.

"I missed you," (Y/n) commented quietly once the two were alone. "I thought of you a lot while I was at the Little Palace."

Kaz stayed quiet. He was scared of saying the wrong thing. Of his emotions taking over and leading him into pouring out every word that he would never be able to say otherwise.

He was scared of telling (Y/n) how much he had missed them.

Of telling them how when he heard that they had gone missing, he thought his heart had stopped. How he had been prepared to cross the Fold on foot if that was what it took to ensure their safety and ensure that they came back to him. How he could have spent a hundred years fighting to get them back and it would have never mattered to him. He would have done it all so effortlessly because a world with a thought of them was better than a world without ever having them.

Of telling them that he kept dreaming of them. Not just after their kidnapping, but before. How he had seen visions of them reconnecting, of the moment he was finally able to be enough for them. He could vividly see the moment that he let them be there, warming him with the energy that twisted around their veins. Let them see him beyond the role of the leader or the boss.

Of telling them how desperately he had been craving them. Their presence and their voice and their gift. Even their touch. Something so unknown to him, terrifying even, yet so tempting. How could you miss something you never experienced?

Kaz didn't know and he was sure that knowing would do him any good.

Instead of taking that risk, Kaz sat quietly.

"You crossed the Fold for me," (Y/n) commented after a while. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Why? Surely there are other people who can perform sleight of hand in the Barrel. You could have left me. Allowed me to stay stuck with Kirigan. Probably would have been less expensive that way."

Because I needed you, he thought, but his tongue put a stop to those words before they could consider escaping, "Inej and Jesper convinced me."

"That's it then," (Y/n) asked. "That's the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?"

(Y/n) took a deep breath. "I don't know."

Before either one of them could continue the ever-so-riveting conversation, Inej and Jesper found their way back to them.

The four of them ate quietly for a few minutes before (Y/n) asked about how they crossed the Fold. It was a story that Jesper was all too excited to tell.

He spoke of the Conductor and the train through the Fold. Of Milo the goat and the fate that became of him. (Y/n) grinned as they listened. They had missed Jesper's rambling so much more than they realized. It was calming to listen to him rant and rave about the things that had upset him or merely distracted him. It was familiar. (Y/n) needed familiar.

"And then, there was this drunk soldier that almost spilled his drink all over me," he explained. "He was going on and on about needing a crew to go find this mysterious Stag that the general wanted for something."

"The stag?" (Y/n) interrupted. All three of the others looked at them. "You know about the Stag?"

"Kirigan sent out a notice," Inej said. "He wanted it tracked. Sent out a drawing."

"It was the leverage we had to ensure that at least one of us could make it into the Little Palace," Jesper added. "Took us ages to find the thing."

"You found the Stag," (Y/n) asked, looking between the three of them.

"Inej did most of the work," Jesper confessed.

"This is brilliant," they replied, a genuine smile stretching across their face. Oh, how good it felt for it to not be a forced act of politeness.

"What is this Stag," Kaz leaned forward. "Why does the general want it so much?"

"It's... It's an amplifier," (Y/n) explained excitedly. "One of Morozova's creatures. It's... I've been seeing it in my dreams. If I can get to it, I may be powerful enough to take down Kirigan... maybe the whole Fold."

"If it made you that powerful, then why would he want it?" Jesper furrowed his eyebrows.

(Y/n) paused, embarrassed. As if any of this was their fault. "His plan was to use the Stag to make himself powerful enough to use me to expand the Fold. He wanted to use it as a weapon. It's... It's the same reason that he created it. He's the Black Heretic that created the Fold centuries ago. And he was biding his time until he found me. To him, I am a tool. A means to an end."

Inej and Jesper shifted, both of them uneasy about the realization. Kaz's eyes shifted for a moment but that was the only reaction that he allowed to be on display.

"We have to find it before he does. Do you remember where it was?"

"Yes," Inej nodded. "It wouldn't be a short trip."

"We just need to get going as soon as possible then. Who knows how long we have until he finds us here? We don't know how much of a head start we truly have."

Almost as soon as the sun fell, the Crows were ready to move out, hoping to use the shadows as a cover.

They were interrupted by the sound of a carriage outside. All four of them paused. Inej moved to the window.

"It's from the Little Palace."

"Saints," (Y/n) muttered, moving over to join her. "He's brought Grisha."

"What kinds are they," Inej asked.

"That's Zoya... she's a squaller, that one's an Inferni, the one in red is a Heartrender, and the one pushed back into the carriage is David, a Durast."

"We have to split up," Kaz advised. "Much easier to take a Grisha one-on-one than a whole squad of them."

"I could take them all out with a single blow," (Y/n) replied.

"And fall right into Kirigan's hand," he added. "We cannot risk that before you have the amplifier."

"Fine."

"With me," he instructed them. He looked to Inej and Jesper. "Stay safe. Rendezvous at the fountain, understood?"

Both of them nodded.

"Wait," Inej said. She jogged over and handed (Y/n) a knife. "I know you don't need it, but... just in case."

(Y/n) grinned at her. "Good luck."

Kaz and (Y/n) made for the entrance farthest away from where the carriage was. The hope was to have enough time to collect themselves before anyone was able to track them down. Then, they'd be ready for a fight if they needed one.

(Y/n) noticed Zoya following them before Kaz did. As much as they wanted to believe that mutual respect would have some impact on Zoya's actions, they couldn't take that risk.

They reached over and took Kaz's hat, placing it carefully on another man's head.

When there were sounds of people gasping and yelling, (Y/n) led Kaz into an alley as if they were just two more scared faces in the crowd.

Kaz paused, staring out at the street. "You need to go."

"Not without you."

"Not a choice, go."

"Kaz-"

"Go."

"Kaz, no, I'm not abandoning you three-"

"We will find you," he snapped. "Go."

(Y/n) paused, watching him closely for a moment. They hoped that he would realize what he was attempting to do, what he was facing. They had just gotten him back; they didn't want him to get himself killed now. All four of them had gone through too much to go through that now.

"We found you once. We'll do it again," Kaz promised. "Now, go."

(Y/n) finally relented, turning around and making their way down the alley, taking a turn to end up on a different street than Kaz did.

Kaz found the other end of the alley. An empty street. Quiet.

And then, there was a clear shift in the air.

Kirigan stepped out of the darkness. Kaz shifted, planting his feet more firmly on the ground.

"I know you kidnapped my Sun Summoner," Kirigan said as he stepped closer. "And now you're going to tell me where you stashed them."

"They were never yours," Kaz replied simply, still taking steps back from the general. "And we didn't take them. They found their way back."

"Where are they?"

"Don't know. I just know that they didn't feel like being a captive anymore."

There were a thousand things that Kaz wanted to say to Kirigan. Even more things that Kaz wanted to do to hurt him. But he wasn't a fool. He knew better than to enter a fight with someone like Kirigan.

"As far as I know, they could be halfway back to Ketterdam already."

"And the Sun Summoner belongs to you again?"

"(Y/n) never belonged to me."

It was one of the things that drew Kaz to them in the first place. This fierce independence that was only overcome by a desire to protect the people they cared for. Kaz never realized how much he admired it.

"Unlike you, I never needed to hold them captive for them to listen to me."

Kirigan stepped forward again. Shadows began to creep up behind him.

Kaz reached into his bag and pulled out a smoke bomb. He held it tight in his hand.

"You should have stayed in Ketterdam, Mr. Brekker."

As Kirigan threw the cut at Kaz, the smoke bomb hit the ground.

What was left was a broken barrel, a few pieces of the wall knocked loose, and no sign of the Crow anywhere to be seen. Kirigan let out a quiet grumble as he stormed off.

Kaz continued his path down a new alley, trying to find some way to Jesper and Inej before they could all go find (Y/n).

As Kaz was making his daring escape, (Y/n) was making it out of the city. They were heading for the forest nearby, desperate to have some kind of cover. They needed to be away from the crowds. There was less of a chance of them being ratted out and if they were found, the Grisha were less likely to hurt any civilians if they were in the woods.

(Y/n) had no way of truly knowing what was going to happen. They wanted to believe that it would all work out, but they were never foolish enough to hold onto that much hope.

Regardless of whatever future may unfold, (Y/n) knew one thing: they had come too far for this to be the last time they see the Crows.

So, as they made it into the forest and found a safe and hidden spot to make camp, they pulled out the sharp blade that Inej had offered them.

In a tree, they carefully carved a message. A message that served two meanings. One was to tell the Crows exactly where they were without telling anyone else. The other was to be a reminder to all of them about how important it was for them to make it out of this together.

N.M.N.F

No mourners, no funerals.

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Author's Note: That title could relate to three different things in this story. Just so y'all know.

Also, I was very aware of the fact that I would get my ass kicked if I didn't feature Kaz and Kirigan meeting.

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