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stevenose · 2 months

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being so normal (18+)

a continuation of this series of blurbs (untitled, adidas, puppy grin)

contains: steve x reader; shy!reader; reader with a vagina; gender neutral pronouns used for reader, but good girl is used once; oral; fingering; blue balls :/

you really shouldn’t have smoked. but when eddie offers it for free, you take it.

because now you can’t stop looking at steve. you’re fixated on him like a moth to a flame. he’s the only thing in the entire bowling alley you care about. maybe if you were sober that would scare you - but also, if you were sober, you wouldn’t be looking.

everyone’s talking about something. steve included. you watch his brows furrow gently while jonathan tells a story about getting too stoned in california. how his pink lips quirk up and then fall flat again. his brown eyes all soft before they narrow when robin makes a joke at his expense.

and his nose. it slopes downward so straight. like it was sculpted. pink from the alcohol beginning its course through his system. there’s a tiny little freckle on his nostril that you want to kiss.

you want to kiss him. it’s so overwhelming that it’s almost painful. you’d love nothing more than to crawl over the table separating you and kiss him til he’s breathless. til his face is red and his pupils are blown. til his hands grip bruises into your hips. til there’s spit trailing between you two. til it trails down lower, down towards your aching, needy -

you’re snapped out of it when eddie slams his ringed hand down on the table in front of you, making you jump.

your brows crinkle together comically slow. you feel like you just woke up. “huh?”

“does steve have somethin’ on his face?” eddie asks again, smiling big.

“i don’t see anything,” jonathan adds.

you falter. “what?”

it must be physically painful for steve to not look smug over this. you wonder if he knows you were staring. his eyes meet yours and you feel dizzy all over again, so needy and so yet nearly fearful of his attention.

he’s a much better actor than you.

steve waves his hand, looking away from you, brown eyes focusing on the bar. “we all stare when we’re stoned.”

“maybe i just think he looks funny,” you finally say, which seems to be sufficient enough. eddie guffaws loud enough to hear over the music and jonathan slaps steve’s back.

“i’m gonna get you for that,” steve says, in a tone so casual it shouldn’t make your stomach flip, but it still finds a way to.

“gonna make them car sick again?” nancy asks. her eyes feel like they’re boring into the side of your face. like she knows something. it makes sweat bead at your hairline, pulse quickening when she raises her brows at you for a second.

and as the men leave to get drunker, nancy and robin sit staring at you. you play with the sweating edge of your glass of ginger ale, bouncing your leg.

robin’s the first person to break the silence. she swats at you, expression somehow irritated and elated. “how stupid do you think we are?”

“what are you talking about?” you deadpan.

“come on,” nancy huffs.

you point to the monitor above your table. “it’s your turn, rob.”

“how long have you been sleeping together?” nancy presses.

you gawk and you hope, despite knowing that nancy wheeler is the smartest person in a one hundred mile radius, that she’s falling for your innocence. “why on earth do you think we’re…?”

“oh, seriously?” robin scoffs. “you can’t even say ‘fuck’?”

“no, really,” you urge, knee bouncing faster. “why do you think we’re doing something?”

“you’ve been getting rides from him,” nancy points out.

“he has driven me somewhere three times in six months,” you amend.

this seems to make them short circuit, opening their mouths to protest but unable to find any ammo. you’re pleased with this.

“and by your logic, then robin must be having sex with eddie.”

robin groans, repulsed. “that’s gross!”

“how do you think i feel?”

“then why were you staring at him?” nancy asks.

you reach for your ginger ale, taking a long sip. “he’s cute,” you settle on. “so what?”

“if you aren’t doing something, do you want to?” robin continues. “i can, like, totally help you out here if you do.”

“robin,” you grit. “enough.”

as grueling as it is, at the very least, this behavior reinforces why you didn’t want to share your situation with steve in the first place. everyone is so nosy - and the only one who really has a right to be is robin. if you’d let it slip that you were being intimate with steve, she’d be furious that he didn’t tell her. but this makes you feel worse for hiding it, and you feel a little sick as you take another swig of your drink.

“well, if you’re not doing anything,” nancy says slowly. “and if his driving made you sick, and that’s why you pulled over, then you wouldn’t mind jonathan and i taking you home. right?”

you blink. “right,” you reply after a pause.

she stares, unwavering. trying to make you break. “so jonathan and i will take you home, then.”

you nod. “right,” you repeat.

nancy’s so goddamn petty, you think, watching robin finally get up to bowl. totally ruining your impending orgasm, again, just to prove herself right. you were so looking forward to riding steve’s nose. you try your best to not look irritated as the game continues, even as the boys come back, eyes ignoring steve’s - well, ignoring steve’s everything. you act like his entire existence is meaningless to you until he finds you in the hallway leading to the bathrooms, half drunk and messy.

“heyheyheyheyhey,” he coos, grabbing you by the waist, pulling you in to his chest. your body becomes overwhelmingly hot at his attention all over again. "c'mere."

"steve," you squeak, "we can't -!"

but he pulls you into the bathroom anyway, pressing you against the door and twisting the lock until it clicks. his mouth is on yours before you can protest, kissing long and sweet and serene. you melt for half a second before turning your head to the side.

"steve," you breathe, grabbing onto his shirt while his lips trail down your neck. "steve, we can't - they're on to us -"

"i know," he says between kisses, annoyed. "jon and eddie wouldn't shut up about it."

you open your mouth to protest but a moan comes out instead.

“oh, there?” he asks, breathless, attaching his lips to your sweet spot.

“steve,” you moan, breathy and low. “we can’t - they’ll - they’ll kn-know -“

he sighs and pulls away, pouting. “what were you looking at me for earlier?”

you’re a little speechless under his gaze. “why do you think?” you whisper.

he licks his lips. “i think someone here’s upset they didn’t get to cum.” one hand rests firmly on your hip, the other snaking around to the small of your back.

you’re trapped. deliciously so.

“and i think you were thinkin’ about how good my nose feels on your clit.”

you shiver, staring at the collar of steve’s shirt.

“that true?” he asks softly.

“not - not totally.”

“well, do you want that?” his thumb plays with the waistband of your skirt, clawing at it, wanting in. “want me to make out with your pretty pussy again?”

overwhelmed, your eyes fall shut. “nancy - nancy’s taking me home.”

steve falters, eyes going soft. “is everything okay?”

“she’s on to us,” you repeat. “thinks if we aren’t doing anything then i wouldn’t mind going home with her. so - yes, i’d really love that, but i don’t think tonight-“

but steve drops to his knees, like you aren’t in a public restroom. his hands push your skirt up, exposing your still drenched underwear to him. you open your mouth to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but his tongue is on you before you’re able to finish your thought.

“oh!”

steve’s fingers keep your underwear pushed off to the side - his prize of the night now stolen from him. if he could, he’d send you back out there with your pussy on display, your underwear tucked safely into his back pocket. but he’s a gentleman, so he resigns himself to snag a pair from you next time.

he always assumes there’s a next time.

“we - they’ll - find out,” you pant, knees weak, your hands reaching down to push his hair away from his face.

steve laughs, pulls away, licks his lips. “do you really think i can’t make you cum in five minutes?”

you hold onto his hair in a white knuckled grip, tugging, listening to him pant and moan beneath you. his tongue licks delicately up your folds before he sucks at your clit, kissing it, flicking his tongue out. then he ducks down a bit, lets his nose rub against your swollen bud while his tongue fucks you.

“oh my god,” you moan, eyes rolling.

“do you want them to know?” he asks, voice thick with you.

you realize you’re being too loud, but it’s impossible not to be. steve brings you to rapture in ways you never thought possible. you never thought it was possible with him. his pretty face between your thighs begs for you to praise it, to let everyone in this goddamn dive know what he’s doing to you.

“you have three minutes,” you shoot back, panting.

“yeah?” he presses a kiss to your folds. “aren’t i supposed to make you pay for teasin’ me earlier?”

white hot electric shoots through you. “n- no.”

steve laughs, raising a hand so his thumb can rub circles into your clit. you sigh, trying desperately to still your shaking legs. “don’t have to let you cum, y’know. could just wait and see how desperate you can get for me. see if i can get you to hump my leg.”

he doesn’t need three minutes. he needs one more minute, needs his dirty mouth running, needs to make you feel like a pervert, and that’s all it takes. his mouth engulfs you just as you’re cumming, lapping you up, moaning as he tastes you.

“shit,” he gasps, pulling away, chest heaving. “wish i had an hour with you.”

you still don’t look at him as you ask, “what would you do if you had an hour?”

“stretch you out on my fingers,” steve answers immediately. “wanna see how well you could take ‘em if we had the time. if that’s okay,” he adds.

you nod, swallowing hard, dizzy. “that would be very okay.”

“you think i could?” he’s still not getting up. “you’re so tight on my tongue, bet it’d take an hour to get two fingers in you.”

but he’s going to try now, his fingers creeping back up your thighs and between them where you’re sensitive and halfway to dripping.

“we don’t have an hour,” you remind him.

steve just hums, using his free hand to part your legs. he’s begging with his eyes. “but we have a minute, right?”

your head falls back against the door with a quick mhm.

“you’re so cute,” he muses, the tip of his middle finger teasing your entrance. “so beautiful, you know that?”

you want to scream. “i did not.”

“must not tell you enough then, huh?” if you looked down you’d see the absolute adoration in his eyes. “sorry about that, angel.”

steve still isn’t trying to push inside of you. he’s just watching, staring up at your pretty face, the way it twists, your lip quivering. it’s so fun to play with you. he could do this all night but he knows he has about five more seconds until you remind him of the time again.

“please?” you finally whimper.

“good girl,” he beams, sliding his finger inside of you, nice and slow. it’s a stretch for certain, making your mouth fall open in silent rapture. steve drinks you up, afraid to blink and miss something. “so tight, honey. don’t think i’ll ever be able to fuck you.”

you clench around him. “you want to?”

“do you?”

you nod, suffocating.

“yeah?” he says softly, pumping his finger once, twice, in and out of you. “gonna need more space than the car.”

you really aren’t listening. you nod vaguely, trying not to be too needy and roll your hips downwards.

his movements still. “what if i came over tonight?”

now you’re listening. you let your chin fall forward to look at him. “really?”

“yeah.” his hair bobs as he nods, his face turning pink. “get to take my time with you.”

“nancy’s taking me home,” you remind him.

“i’ll come after you’re dropped off. if you want.”

you nod quickly. “mhm. yeah. i do.”

it’s a major loss when he slides his finger out of you, but the sweet kiss he gives you makes up for it.

“clean up,” he says gently. “i’ll be out here.”

your eyes follow his fingers the rest of the night.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #i’m obsessed w him ;/

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soracities · 9 months

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"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

#q #lit #quotes #poems #literature #persephone writes a letter to her mother #a.e. stallings #m #x

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jayteacups · 5 months

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It's A Wrap!

Working on Attack on Titan as a makeup artist has irreversibly changed your life. As the end rapidly approaches, you find that letting go is harder than you’d thought. After years of harbouring feelings for Levi that you can’t divulge, his final day on set arrives. You know it’s time to say goodbye to him and part ways—but maybe you don’t have to.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Tags & warnings: Actor!Levi, Makeup artist!Reader, fluff, confessions, friends/idiots to lovers, alcohol consumption, briefly implied sexual content, AOT finale spoilers

Word count: 6.9k words

A/N: I’m back, happy Levi month everyone! I wrote this over the last month to cope with the fact AOT was ending and also life stuff. This is incredibly self indulgent, also I would love to tell more stories and scenarios in this AU, so this probably won’t be the last one-shot I write for actor!Levi and MUA!Reader hehehe. Disclaimer that I don't work in film or TV or makeup, sorry if there are any inaccuracies. Also please forgive me for the uncreative title, lol. Hope you enjoy the fic!

Levi’s last day on set is bittersweet.

For the final time, you lean against the wall and count down the seconds on your watch. The trailer door swings open to reveal the man of the hour. On par for the course, Levi arrives fifteen minutes on the dot before his scheduled arrival time. He’s holding his usual steaming flask of tea in one hand, with a nondescript rucksack (save for a Badtz-Maru keychain gifted to him from the Sanrio collaboration) slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” you greet him, pushing off from the wall, moving towards him like a moth to flame. He sets down his things in the sitting area and meets you halfway, letting you pull him into your arms. After years of working alongside each other, you’ve both grown accustomed to greeting each other like this in private, especially after the stress the two of you had put yourselves under during the Season 3 shoots.

“How are you feeling? It’s your last day.” You ask him as the two of you part. To your dismay, you’re already missing the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to get all sappy about it.” His face is placid.

“That’s what Hange said when they filmed their death scene, and we saw how that ended,” you say lightheartedly. Hange had sworn to remain jovial and upbeat throughout their last day, but after seeing the several other actors cry at their phenomenal acting, they had promptly broken down. “And I bet you anything that Eren’s going to say that when he and Mikasa do the cabin scene next week, and we all know he’ll be the first to start crying and the last to stop.”

Levi rolls his eyes before he enters the wardrobe area, but you know he’s not serious. “If you think I’m going to break down in tears like Hange and the kids did, you’re dead wrong,” he continues, out of sight.

You smile. “Sure. It’s alright, you know, if you do end up crying. It’s an end of an era, we’re all going to get emotional.”

A few moments later, Levi emerges in costume, sans the bandages. He sits down in front of the mirror at the vanity table. “Yes, but I’m satisfied with what I’ve done here, and I have no regrets,” he muses out loud, continuing on from before. “And it’s not like I’m done with the show. There’s the wrap party, then the press tour and all that. So don’t expect me to get all worked up today. I’m not saying goodbye to Attack on Titan just yet.” His voice softens towards the end.

But it is goodbye for us, you wish to say. And I don’t want it to be. You haven’t been contracted for any of their press events. After you finish with Attack on Titan, you’ll have a handful of weeks before your upcoming contract for a new show begins. It’s a wonderful opportunity; the show is airing on a major streaming service and requires you to push your SFX skills to the limit. Sasha had been cast in one of the main roles and both Onyankopon and Nifa will make appearances too, so you’ll see some familiar faces on this new project. But selfishly, you aren’t ready to let go and move forward. Selfishly, you aren’t ready to part ways with Levi.

Sure, the two of you will make an effort to talk every now and then. You know him far better than to assume he’ll stop talking to you the moment Attack on Titan is finished; despite him being standoffish at first, it’s clear Levi cares deeply about everybody he’s ever worked with, cast or crew alike. But the chances of your demanding schedules ever lining up again are close to zero, and sooner or later, your frequent messages will fizzle out into a conversation lost to the ages. You’ll drift, until the two of you are strangers once more. It’s inevitable; you’ve seen it happen before with your actor friends from old projects. No doubt it’ll happen again.

You consider addressing the elephant in the room, wondering if it lingers on his mind, too. But instead, you hum in agreement and pass him a headband to hold his hair out of the way. He puts it on, clearly content to not bring it up just yet.

Levi chews on the inside of his cheek as you sort out your equipment on the vanity table. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his lips, which are a little more chapped than usual. It’s clear there is something else that’s bothering him, but you decide to let it go for now. Sometimes Levi just needs to sit with his thoughts for a moment. You’ve learned that being pushed just makes him close himself off even more. A life in the limelight can be unforgiving. Kuchel Ackerman had been the brightest star of her generation, but behind the scenes, her personal life was far from glamorous. It doesn’t surprise you that her son keeps his heart and feelings well-guarded.

As he sits and stews, you apply chapstick and some basic ‘barely-there’ makeup on his face, before creating the illusion of a hard-fought battle by adding a light layer of grime to his face. You’ll add more after the scar and bandages. As you work, Levi takes out a folder from his bag, which is embellished with a small cat sticker that Hange had stuck on years ago. From it, he takes his copy of the script, nary a crease in the sheets. Brow furrowed, he reads it over and over, mouthing his lines with the fervour of a prayer.

Now, that is odd.

“There is something on your mind, isn’t there?” You’ve also read the script for today’s scene. The director had decided to save Levi’s most poignant scene—where his character salutes the ghosts of his fallen comrades—for the very end of his shoot. (Levi’s epilogue scene had been shot a week prior.) This would be his most challenging scene yet, for it would be the first time he and his character will ever cry on screen. “You can tell me if you want. Anything you need to help you focus. There’s still time.” You give him a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

Stormy eyes glance up at his reflection, than up at yours. He puts down the script and sighs, voice subdued. “I just want to do the Captain’s ending justice, and I don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” you murmur. You gesture for him to close his eyes, and pick up your finest brush. Willing your hand and heart into steadiness, you bring the brush up to his forehead, where the largest scar begins. You’ll never get used to how infuriatingly gorgeous he is. “No. I know you can. There is no doubting just how much you care about portraying him correctly.”

He swallows. “Well, I’ve never cried on camera before.” He stops, giving you a moment to work.

With the utmost care, you begin to draw the main line of the largest scar, the one that passes through his eye and lips. As the brush passes over his eyelid, it twitches ever so slightly, his long lashes tickling your hand. Smiling, you brush away a stray lash that had fallen onto his cheek. As you extend the line down his cheek, you try to reassure him. Levi’s usually so steadfast, but it makes sense that something like this would grow heavy on his mind.

“You’ve been practicing it with your coach, though, right? I mean, I’ve had to cover up your swollen eyes a number of times this season.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The brush reaches his lips. He opens his eyes, looking up at you through lowered lashes. Your heart aflutter, you staunchly ignore any and all thoughts of kissing him. Doing so has become more and more difficult with every passing day. Especially when every now and then, you think you see him glancing down at your lips whenever you lean in close to examine a detail of your work.

It’s more than likely that you’re imagining it, though.

Finally, the brush reaches his chin, finishing the outline of the first scar. You lean back to admire your work. After many instances of painstakingly painting on the scars and agonising over continuity, you don’t have to look at your old reference pictures to know the exact shape and curve of them, down to the millimetre. But you do so anyway, and smile in satisfaction when you compare today’s line to the pictures from the first time you drew them on him for practice. A perfect match.

“I know you’ve been working hard at it,” you continue assuring him, putting down the reference photos. “You’ve definitely come a long way.”

“Yeah, but I’m shit at it, actually. All those times we joked about how Eren would take forever to conjure a single tear every time he needed to cry, and now here I am in the exact same position. He’s going to rub this in my face should he ever find out.” He chews the inside of his cheek again, looking down. “Damn it. Don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m not… I don’t get nervous. I don’t show up to work feeling unprepared. That isn’t me. But today, it is.”

It’s unsettling, to see him so unsure of himself. His nerves are understandable, as he came into the show with more of a stuntman background and little actual acting experience. But anybody who’s worked alongside him could easily tell you just how dedicated he is to improving his craft, and that nobody else could play the Captain with the same quiet subtleties that Levi brings to the screen.

You hope your smile is somewhat reassuring to him. “And that’s okay. You know, crying on command really isn’t easy. I’ve worked with countless actors and many also find it difficult.” In your experience, most actors need a while to work themselves up to cry. The most obvious exception is Armin, who has the unnerving ability to turn it on and off like a light switch. “For you, all you need to do is make one tear out of one eye. You’ve managed to do that before, right?”

He nods, but the firm clench of his jaw and the crease between his brows don’t fade.

“So, it’s nothing that you haven’t practiced. And on the off chance that you can’t do it today, that’s perfectly fine. I have eyedrops in my bag.”

“Yeah, but…” He shakes his head in frustration. “This is going to sound dumb, but it… I don’t know, that feels like cheating. I know you’re thinking I’m being an idiot, and I probably am. I know eyedrops are common practice. It’s just… This is my character’s last moment before the epilogue, and I want it to be real. I don’t want to take the easy way out.”

“No, it’s not stupid. There’s no shame in needing to use eyedrops if you end up not being able to cry today, but it’s really admirable that you want to do it as authentically as possible. I think that since this is your final scene, and so many people are returning this morning, it’ll be easier than usual to muster up those tears.” Reaching for a set of different brushes and paint, you instruct him, “here’s what we’re going to do. I need you to just listen whilst I do the rest of your scars. I don’t want you to get trapped in your head about this, okay? Overthinking will just make it harder to get into character. Isn’t that what you said to Mikasa all those years back? It worked wonders for her. I often forget that this show was her first ever gig, with how good she’s become.”

He scoffs. “Really? You’re using my own words against me?”

“Well, what use is your own advice if you can’t follow it yourself?”

After a moment of hesitation, Levi sighs in defeat and closes his eyes again. “Shit, you’re relentless. Fine, then. I’ll trust you.”

You get to work, drawing the outlines of the second scar parallel to the first, then the smaller ones on his other cheek. As you add in the details, such as the texture of the stitches, you remind Levi of another story that he himself told you. He’d never worked with horses before being cast in this show, and yet was one of the quickest learners. Unsurprisingly so, since he’s incredibly kinaesthetically intelligent. To this day, the cast insists he looks the most at ease atop a horse, only second to Erwin, who actually used to ride in his childhood. You remind him that every single time, his hard work has more than paid off.

Somewhere down the line, you go off topic. Levi makes no move to stop you. In fact, he seems content just to listen to you talk about anything, everything. As the wounds take shape on his face, you reminisce on anecdotes from set, on the time the two of you spent together. With fondness, you recall your first meeting. Back then, you were an lowly assistant on the SFX team, transforming an unassuming man into the wounded soldier who, in his dying moments, listened to the Captain’s vow to eradicate the titans and bring meaning to his sacrifice. You talk about how the two of you grew closer during the filming of the second season, when Levi had a lot more free time to talk. How difficult the third season had been to film due to both of you being spread thin by additional responsibilities.

You skim over that time Levi mentioned you in an interview when asked about a favourite memory on set, and how warm it made you feel. You don’t talk about how you’d genuinely teared up after watching the final cut of the scene where Hange discovers a half-dead Levi by the riverbank, despite knowing that his ‘injuries’ were nothing more than your own handiwork.

And, with your heart clenching painfully, you certainly don’t dare to bring up the almost-kiss at last year’s cast and crew Halloween party.

———

“Cut! Perfect! Aaand that’s a wrap for Levi!”

The set erupts into thunderous applause. You clap heartily alongside the rest of the cast and crew. A deafening symphony of whoops and cheers fills the air, and if not for the growing lump in your throat, you’d join in too.

A standing ovation. Levi deserves it and more. Just as you expected, every angle the director wanted to capture had needed one take each, not a single one more. No eyedrops needed.

From your position, you can see Levi still sitting by the rock. Strangely, he makes no move to get up. Curious as to why, you peer past some crew members that had moved in the way, but you’re greeted with a sight that pulls at your heartstrings. Your eyes sting with new tears.

Curled up by the rock, Levi has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs.

Something in your chest aches. You knew that he would get emotional at the end—there was no way he wouldn’t, especially considering that his character cried too—but you didn’t expect him to feel so overwhelmed.

On instinct, your feet propel you towards him, but you’re promptly cut off by a few other crew members moving around. Through your rapidly blurring vision, you can only watch as several of the returning cast members rush forward from the smoke. Hange reaches him first, and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. Erwin is second, kneeling next to the duo and rubbing Levi’s back comfortingly.

Sniffling, you quickly wipe away your tears, remembering suddenly that you still have something to do. Unnoticed, you slip away from set.

There is a tradition amongst the cast that whenever a character dies, the actor receives a bouquet of flowers from the cast and crew. (A size limit had to be enforced after a very emotional Gabi had presented Sasha with a bouquet so large it couldn’t fit through the trailer door.) For this final season, the tradition has expanded to gifting the actor a bouquet when they wrap, for the characters that survive all the way to the very end.

The door to Connie’s trailer is unlocked when you arrive, just as he said it would be. Inside, you find a vase full of vibrantly coloured flowers on the kitchenette counter in the exact spot where you’d left it earlier this morning. Several weeks ago, the cast and crew had all nominated you to put in the order for the bouquet and present it to Levi on his final day, and Connie had offered to help you hide it from Levi until it was time. Careful to not drip water all over the floor, you pick up the flowers and jog back to set.

The fog machines are being carried out by the time you return. You immediately scan the set for Levi, but it seems he has been completely buried under a massive group hug with the veterans cast, no doubt Hange’s doing. You can’t help but smile at the sight. Most of the crew members appear to be taking a break before clean-up, as it is the end of the day. The air is filled with chatter, but a hush descends upon the crowd as you approach.

The actors peel away from the hug one by one. A smiling Petra helps Levi get to his feet. The bandages on his face are halfway unravelled. With one hand, he yanks them off, leaving both of his eyes to gaze at you unobstructed, ablaze with an intense emotion you can’t quite place. With his other hand, he quickly wipes away the half-dried tears on his cheeks.

“On behalf of the cast and crew,” you say hoarsely, “I give you these.” You step forward and present him the bouquet. “It’s been an honour. Thank you for everything, Levi.”

His fingers gently graze yours as he takes the flowers from you. Tenderly, he holds them close to his chest.

“I was wondering where you went just now,” he says. Of course he’d noticed. “Should’ve known you’d be the one to give me this…” His voice wavers towards the end. He scoffs and wipes at his eyes. “And to think I was done blubbering like a baby. Damn it. You were right.”

He pulls you into a hug without a second thought.

———

Somehow, you’ve been roped into taking photos for everyone. Levi unwraps the bandages around his hand before he begins. He first takes a photo with the director and producer, who both thanking him dearly. They part with a handshake. Almost immediately after, the cast members of the Alliance, along with Eren and Zeke, all swarm forward for a big group photo. They’d all come to watch in support, even if several of them weren’t scheduled to come in today. Connie confesses that he’d helped hide the bouquet by letting you into his trailer. Levi makes a light-hearted remark that he should’ve figured that out too, considering Connie also helped hide Hange’s bouquet—which Levi himself had been responsible for ordering and retrieving.

The veteran actors come forward next. Fitting them all into the camera frame was a challenge, but you manage to do it after one of your makeup assistants finds you a stool. Somehow, Erwin manages to persuade Levi into doing the Scout salute with the rest of them. (“I just did it in the scene, though… Fine, I’ll indulge in your corniness for today, you dorks.”) When he presses his fist to his chest one last time, the veterans erupt into cheers.

Hange and Erwin both stay back for a little longer. The trio pose for more photos, all grinning widely, though you decide to put a stop to the mini-photoshoot when Hange attempts to pick Levi up bridal-style and almost drops him.

(“When I said ‘put me down’, I didn’t mean for you to drop me with no fucking warning!”

“I didn’t mean to drop you. Besides, I caught you, didn’t I? You’re fine, see?”)

After that fiasco, Levi asks to take one with the original Special Ops Squad, as it had been years since they’d managed to meet up.

Zeke comes back for another photo, slipping one arm around Levi’s shoulders. As you meet the taller man’s eyes over the top of his phone, he winks mischievously, holding two fingers up in bunny ears above Levi’s unsuspecting head. Say nothing, he mouths to you. With a herculean effort, you suppress your laugh. Zeke has made it his personal mission to photobomb every main cast member from the finale. After months of shooting, Levi is the last one standing, and it’s incredibly entertaining how hard Zeke tries to finish his mission, even now.

“Hand down, Zeke.”

“Damn it, how did you know?”

“You’re about as subtle as Reiner is when he pretends he hasn’t broken a prop.”

Zeke laughs. “Nothing gets past you, Levi, does it?”

As the two continue to playfully bicker, more jokes than actual verbal barbs, you open the photo you’d managed to take split seconds before Levi called Zeke out. “Mission accomplished,” you say, and a delighted Zeke reaches over Levi’s head to high-five you. Looking mildly betrayed, Levi whips his head back around to face you.

You grin sheepishly as you pass Zeke’s phone back to him, the photo on display. “Sorry. I had to help him.”

“Why are you two like this?” Levi says, shaking his head, barely holding back a smile. He and Zeke part after a hug and a promise to get drinks soon.

Levi’s promptly joined by Falco and Gabi, and after their photo is taken, he ruffles their hair affectionately, which makes Gabi yelp. He really has stepped into the ‘cast dad’ role, a development that you find endlessly endearing. Soon after, their parents arrive to take them home— the kids have quite an early start tomorrow to film their scenes with Annie and Kiyomi on the boat.

Jean and Connie take the chance to snatch a couple of selfies with him, before the latter asks if he could join them to film a TikTok for the show’s official account. To Levi’s utmost relief, it isn’t a dance challenge. Connie instead asks him a few questions about how he feels about the show ending, and what the show means to him—he’s putting together a montage of every cast member’s responses.

On the sidelines, just out of view, you watch Levi give his answers. An ember of warmth kindles in your chest.

Soon after, Levi’s approached by the stunt team, headed by an old friend of Levi’s from his stuntman days. She’d made a cameo in the third season as Kenny’s lieutenant. You happily take a group photo for them.

After you hand Caven’s phone back to her, Hange taps you on the shoulder, having finished catching up with the other cast members. You smile as they hug you tight, swaying on the spot; today is the first time you’ve seen them since they filmed their death scene a few months back.

“It’s so good to see you!” They say, linking arms with yours. “Sorry it took so long to come and find you.”

“Don’t worry! It’s lovely having you back. How are you finding your return?”

“It’s great! I’ve really been missing this, even though it hasn’t been that long.” They pout.

“Oh, we’ve all missed you too, Hange,” you say, smiling. “Have you been up to much since you left?”

“Well, I visited my dad for a bit, then I sent in an audition tape for this thriller movie that my agent thinks I’ll be a good pick for. I also got a few other offers, but I’m a little on the fence. I’ll consider those if I don’t get that thriller role, but who knows when I’ll hear back from them?”

“I bet you’ll get it. Thrillers are right up your alley.”

“You flatter me, dear,” They grin. “Anyways, I am here to say that you are the only one left who has not taken a picture with Levi. And that needs to change. The two of you need something to remember this day by!” You realise they’ve been guiding you towards the rock, where Levi, Mikasa, Armin and Eren are deep in conversation. The younger actors are laughing boisterously at something Levi had said, heads tilted back, sporting wide grins. Levi’s still cradling his bouquet carefully, a soft smile as he speaks, looking up at his younger cast mates with endearment. Your heart warms at the sight.

The quartet look up as you approach. The younger actors wave goodbye, disappearing into the crowd. Hange quickly ushers you and Levi together, their phone already out of their pocket. “Alrighty, here we go!” They cheer. “Oi, look lively now, Levi. It’s the last photo!”

“Was about time we did this,” you whisper to him as you come close. At first, you settle into your usual stance whenever you take a photo with a cast member, but Levi is not just any cast member. Not to you. Gnawing on your lip, you grapple with yourself for a fleeting moment. Your professional side barely puts up a resistance, and so you lean in to whisper a question. Briefly, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss the delicate shell of his ear. You banish the traitorous thought, best as you can.

“Hey, can I put my arm around you for this?” As close as you and Levi have grown over the years, the two of you save your brief hugs for behind the scenes, in private. Physical affection is rare with him otherwise—whilst the cast tend to be very touchy with one another, Levi is usually seen on the sides, watching them with a quiet fondness in his eyes. That hug from earlier—it had to be a fluke, right?

And yet, he sighs, and bridges the small gap between you. His free arm moves behind you, a warm, firm hand comes to rest at your back. “You don’t have to ask, you know,” he murmurs in return. “I hugged you earlier, didn't I? Quit worrying. Go ahead.”

Warmth blooming inside you, you lean sideways towards him on impulse. You slide your own arm behind him, and Levi leans into your touch. “Just so you know,” he continues, “it was an honour working with you too.”

Hange starts to count down from three. A wave of emotion hits you, almost sweeps you off your feet. This is it. Your last day of working with him.

Still so much left unsaid.

Straining to keep your composure, you offer a wide, bright smile for the camera.

———

The next few hours are spent tidying and cleaning up. Most of the actors have gone home, but Levi stays behind to help out the crew, as he always does without fail. With how emotionally taxing the day had been, it’s a wonder he didn’t go back to his trailer immediately to crash. As if you couldn’t admire him any more.

Your eyelids are heavy by the time you finish up and arrive at Levi’s trailer. When you enter, he is slumped in a chair in front of the vanity mirror, already changed out of his costume.

Neither of you say a single word as you carefully wipe away the scars and the grime. Your traitorous hands linger for a split second too long whenever they brush against his smooth skin. In his stormy eyes are that same intense look he’d given you when you first appeared with the bouquet.

You wonder what it means.

Sooner or later, one of you will have to break this fragile silence. Levi decides to take the matter into his own hands, catching you off guard. “I guess this is it.”

The sting in your eyes returns with a fierce vengeance. You turn away for a moment, rapidly blinking your oncoming tears away. An invisible vice clamps down, mercilessly clenching your chest.

You choke on your words, but you get them out somehow. “I’ll miss you.” Not the three words you’ve been yearning to say for the last year, but it will have to do. “I’m going to miss you. So much. It’s been…” You wrack your brain, but there is no singular adjective you know of that could truly describe the past few years working on this show with him. “You know what I mean. Right?”

“I know what you mean.” Levi stands, turning to face you properly. The troubled crease between his brows return. “Look, I… I have to tell you something. Hear me out?”

Your heart thunders in your chest. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Remember this morning? I said I was satisfied with my work here. That I have no regrets.”

Barely able to breathe, you can only manage to nod.

“But that isn’t true. Not really. There is one thing I regret,” he says, slowly, cautiously.

Voice barely a whisper, you ask. “What is it?”

“That we never talked about what almost happened at Halloween last year.”

The world comes to a halt.

Dimmed lights. Bass reverberates through your bones. The aftertaste of a Bloody Mary lingers on your tongue. Levi is just centimetres away, his chest almost flush with yours. His eyes valiantly fight to stay focused on the intricate titan-shifter makeup on your cheeks, before he gives in and his line of sight drops to your lips. Unconsciously, he leans in slightly, seemingly gravitating towards you.

Devastating. That is the first word that comes to your mind. It is high time you realise that he will be the end of you; he could ask anything of you and you’d do it. Your heart beats for him.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

A drunken crew member barges past, jostling your shoulder. You yelp, stumbling to the side, before Levi’s hands—warm, steady, safe—catch you. The spell broken, he lets go the moment you are upright, averting his eyes from yours. Levi takes a step backwards—a small one, because there is barely any space in the corner of the room the two of you are tucked into. But to you, he suddenly feels so distant, that he might as well be on the other side of the universe.

“I need some air,” he says, stoic mask falling back into place. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, Levi turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, taking all the warmth of the room with him.

No. This is dangerous territory. Since that night, the two of you had constructed an unspoken agreement to pretend nothing had ever happened. Levi had never made any impression that it was anything other than a drunken lapse in professionalism. For a while, you wondered if he even remembered that moment, or if it had all been in your head, a result of you projecting your own desires onto him.

Regardless, he had never brought it up. You’d been content to do the same. It was—and still is—impossible to fathom that Levi would ever want you.

“Tell me,” he says hoarsely, “that I wasn’t imagining things that night, and every day since. Tell me I’m not imagining that you’ve been looking at me like…”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Like what?”

“Like that!” He snaps. His hands tremble in a way you’ve never seen before as he gestures towards you, voice tinged with desperation. “Like how you’re looking at me right now. I-I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. Because if I had… maybe I would’ve…”

The staggering realisation of what he’s trying to say sinks in.

Choking back a sob of relief, you reach out for his hands, and he offers them to you with no resistance. A light blush sweeps across his face as he stares at your interlocking fingers with something akin to wonder.

Breathlessly, you dare to ask. “Do you mean it? That if you had known how I felt, you… you would’ve kissed me?”

“Yes. I would’ve. I wanted to, more than anything.” With that, Levi finally looks up from your joined hands. The burning look he’s been giving you all throughout today—you recognise it, now, plain and simple.

His earlier words ring in your mind. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.

“Oh, Levi,” you whisper.

He continues on. “And if I had known how you felt, I wouldn’t have upped and left you like that. I was being a shitty coward, for running away and pretending it never happened, and never giving you an explanation when you deserved one. I was scared, I think, of ruining what we already had. You didn’t imagine anything on my part, it happened, and you didn’t do anything wrong that night… I’m sorry.”

Smiling, you squeeze his hands; warm, steady, safe. “You aren’t imagining things on my end either. I’m in love with you, and have been for a while now.” You don’t need him to say those precious words back for now—Levi’s endearingly clumsy attempt at confessing means more to you than he’ll ever know. “And I forgive you for running out on me that night. We both thought it didn’t mean anything to the other person. For so long, I thought that even if you did, things would never work out, that today would be goodbye, because I have a new contract on the other side of the country, and you’ll be going back to stunt work, a-and…” Your voice trembles, so you force yourself to stop, and breathe.

“It will work. I swear it, I’m not saying goodbye to you. I don’t care what’s coming next, we can make it work.” He seems to muster his resolve, tugging you closer. “No more dancing around this like idiots. We have enough lost time to make up for.”

Smiling so widely your cheeks ache, you playfully poke his cheek. “Well, you can always begin with the kiss you owe me, yeah?”

“You smart-arse.” Levi chuckles, before gently cupping the back of your head with his hand. In a swift movement, he leans in and captures your lips with his.

It’s nothing short of divine.

Levi kisses you with years worth of yearning behind it. His other hand moves to cradle your face, thumb brushing against the curve of your cheek, wiping away a stray tear of happiness.

Eyes fluttering shut, you deepen the kiss. Tongues move in tandem, and it isn’t long before hands begin to roam, exploring the terrains of each other’s bodies with an almost innocent curiosity. Heat simmers underneath your skin, a carnal flame yearning to be stoked, to devour.

For now, though, you’ll have to temper it.

Coming up for air, you close your eyes, resting your forehead against his. As much as you desperately want him, you don’t want your first time having sex with Levi to be in a trailer on set, with multiple crew members still milling around outside and packing up for the day. You tell him as such, and he murmurs his agreement after kissing you once more.

“Glad we’re on the same page about that, so…” Realising what you’re about to say next, you choke back a grin at your own cheesiness. “You wanna go back to your place or mine?”

Levi rests his forehead on your shoulder and chokes back a laugh. “Fuck, that’s such a cliché line.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but the question still stands.”

He looks up at you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yours, then.”

The time spent packing up and driving back to your home crawls by agonisingly slowly. The moment the two of you cross the threshold onto your home, he’s closing the gap between the two of you, kissing you breathless, thoughtless, until only your longing for him remains. So much so that you almost forget to stop and get a condom out from your drawer—in fact, Levi has to remind you.

The rare few times you had allowed yourself to think about it, you’d pictured Levi as a tender lover, gentle despite his coarseness. He is all this and more. At his fingertips, you come alive. As he makes love to you, laughs and sweet nothings fill the air between the deep kisses you share. You should’ve expected just how generous he can be in bed, but it still takes you by surprise, the way he worships your body with a deep-rooted reverence, determined to pleasure you over and over. In turn, you reciprocate eagerly, honoured that Levi trusts you to take care of him in return, that he is so readily vulnerable with you.

Once the two of you are finally, utterly spent, Levi nudges you awake before you can fully slip into a deep doze, cosy and comfortable in his embrace. “Hey. Gotta clean ourselves up, sleepyhead.”

You chuckle drowsily, and miraculously muster up the strength to crawl out of his arms, out of the warm sheets. “The bathroom is just down the hall,” you yawn, trudging towards a cupboard not the other side of your room. “You can shower first whilst I change the sheets and find you a towel and some spare clothes, ‘kay?”

“Or,” Levi says, voice hoarse with the same kind of contented exhaustion that makes you yearn to curl up beneath the sheets in his arms, “you could come with me.” He pulls you back in, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder, which tickle slightly.

Euphoric, you close your eyes and laugh. “Okay.”

Showering together is an incredibly sweet, domestic affair. Long after you’ve rinsed off all the lather, you’re both hesitant to leave the warmth of the running water, content to cling onto each other and relish in the feeling of skin against skin.

After the two of you dry off and change the sheets, you climb into bed. Half awake and basking in each other’s presence, you pull him close, nestling your head on his chest. When was the last time you had felt so cherished, so happy?

Sleep claims you swiftly, but not before Levi kisses the top of your head and tells you what you already know:

“I’m in love with you, too.”

———

Several weeks later

The wrap party is well underway by the time you and Levi arrive.

The lights are dim, and the music reverberates through your bones. Levi’s hand finds a home in the curve of your waist as he guides you through the crowd of drunken cast and crew members. His touch anchors you, and you find yourself smiling giddily.

After helping yourself to a cocktail, the hours fly by. Apparently, the entire cast plus half of the crew (including all of the makeup assistants under your command) had been rooting for you and Levi to get together. Tonight when you finally revealed you were in a relationship with him to your juniors, you were subjected to an intense barrage of questions. This, however, paled in comparison to Hange’s reaction when Levi held your hand in front of their very eyes—they’d launched an interrogation so brutal you wonder why they didn’t enter law enforcement instead.

Soon after escaping Hange’s interrogation, you two both get another drink. “Everybody seems far too invested in this development than they should be,” you sigh, still frazzled. “How long do you reckon they’ve been shipping us?”

A look of exasperation flits across Levi’s face. “I don’t know, and I hate that I even know what ‘shipping’ means in this context. Also, I saw Zeke give Erwin money when Hange was drilling us. Fuckers had some kind of bet running on us. Don’t even wanna know how long that had gone on for.”

You tip your head back and laugh. “Colour me unsurprised. That sounds very on-brand for Zeke and Erwin. You know, I think I saw Armin and Connie do the same. Guess Armin’s not as angelic as he looks.”

“That’s been known, sweetheart. The kid’s a menace in disguise.” He kisses your cheek. “Just like you, actually, now that I think about it.”

Playfully, you swat him away. “Hey, who are you calling a menace?”

Eventually, the two of you find yourselves catching some air outside, needing a moment to sober up and recalibrate after a whirlwind of social interaction. Levi’s hand returns to your waist and tugs you closer to him, seeking out your warmth. Melting into his touch, you do you best to commit the feeling of his embrace to memory. Soon, you’ll move away for a few months for your next contract, but you no longer fear it. Levi had sworn to you that this would work out, and there is nobody’s word you trust more than his.

Your love for each other has endured for years in the past. A handful more months is nothing.

Levi shifts slightly to get a better look at you, and cups your cheek. Meeting his gaze, your heart stops; his eyes are a breathtaking silver in the moonlight. Easily the most expressive feature he has, you could get lost in them for hours.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

This time, Levi meets you halfway.

Do not repost, modify or claim as your own work.

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deadsetobsessions · 9 days

Text

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

284 notes · View notes

vacayisland · 5 months

Note

I have the largest hyper fixation on Floyd right now. Funny little troll being way too cute for it to be legal.

do you think you could write a story where a male / Non-binary reader that's like, a large person thing, (You can make them part animal if possible, I like the idea of Floyd hiding in the readers fur for comfort.) is reunited with Floyd after he was stick in the diamond perfume bottle for 2 months. And they just give Floyd a bunch of comfort cuddles and other stuff.

Take all the time you need to rest and drink water, if you can't do my request, that's perfectly fine. I hope you have an amazing day / night!

-A non-binary bee 🐝

@!; Floyd with a part-animal Reader! Floyd / Half-animal! Half-Troll! Reader

"Summary"! Couldn't tell if you meant big like tall or big like cubby... so why not both? :D Anyways, there are more headcanon style with little stories in it. Dunno when I'll post this (I have like 5 other stories backed up b/c my mind can't decide what to write); But I hope you like it Bee! Tags! Floyd literally being everything, no pronouns mentioned so feel free to use your own, hurt-comfort, NOT PROOF READ... also wrote in one sitting... in one day. AND TUMBLR KEPT GLITCHING ON ME AND THE PITCTURE BORDER ISN'T WORKING ON DESKTOP-. anyways please enjoy <3

@!; Floyd has known you since his band days, which was a shock to his brothers when they finally met you. Not only are you taller than an average troll (a foot or so) yet you're also different; and mostly in a good way, but take what you will about the fact that Branch noticed your differences first. When Floyd first met you, it was 2 months into his boyband career with Brozone. He went out on a walk to clear his head before a big show, anxious feels were never good to go on stage with and his brothers didn't help much. Mostly John Dory, who kept speaking about his "perfect" plan to the show. Just thinking about messing up anything made Floyd more nervous than preforming, he really didn't want to let his brothers down; as he's seen them preform before he was able to join on the scene. So while JD ranted, Spruce worked out, and Clay was fitting into his costume, Floyd went out on a needed walk. That's when he found you;

You were stood up top a mountain cliff near the Pop troll village, looking down with your majestic eyes and ears relaxed down by your side. Floyd stood by the village though hid in the shade of the plants nearby to watch. He didn't want to scare you off, especially since he's never seen anything quite like you. You seemed memorized by the lights of the Pop troll village, if not maybe a little intoxicated by them; like a moth to the flame. Floyd was memorized by your shiny coat, which he could barely see against the night sky and the bright colors of the village. You didn't seem to notice him at all as you laid down at that cliff, crossing your paws and laying your muzzle down on them. Floyd wasn't sure why but watching you watching the lights of the village calmed his nerves. Even though it was still a little nerve racking thinking that an animal so big knows were the village was; an animal who could possibly eat Trolls. Yet, that thought was quickly wavering out of his mind the more passive you seemed. @!; Floyd almost missed the show that night, Spruce had to go find him before JD blew a fuse. He was questioned like hell the few seconds before the show and then afterwards, yet he couldn't exactly tell his brothers that he saw an animal watching the village and that's what he was doing. They would be both over worried and a little relentless in scolding him for getting so close to something that could eat trolls. His absence of an answer, and his general dodging of the brothers questions (when that was so not like Floyd) led them all to assume that Floyd met a Troll that had caught his eye. Floyd tried to protest against this, yet was a little flustered at the fact that all his brothers seemed to jump on that conclusion train so quickly. So, that only solidified his brother's theories more and thus began the hunt. All his brothers kept an extra eye on Floyd, trying to see who the lucky Troll had been who caught there ever so sensitive brother's eyes. Despite all their "sneaky" tracking and slight stalking, they came up with nothing. Floyd was determined to let them not know what, or maybe who, he actually saw that night. So he didn't see you again until his brothers gave up on their little hunt and let Floyd to his own devices. Especially after he almost messed up a show due to nerves from not being able to go out on a walk without his brother's bombardment; JD wasn't happy. 3 months after first seeing you, Floyd was able to catch a glimpse of you again. Before a show, he looked out the window (not needing to go out on a walk that night) and saw your figure again in the distance on the same hill. You were relaxed again, laying down and looking intently towards the Village. In some weird sense, Floyd had a funny thought that you were here to listen to the concert; seeing as he didn't see you on any other night than concert nights. Yet, he shook that thought out of his head really quick, not thinking that you could like Brozone music. Not that it was because you weren't a Troll, but because he thought it was too loud for your ears; he's read somewhere that animal ears tended to be more sensitive than Troll ears. But then why would you be so close to the Village? The thought stuck in Floyd's mind all throughout the performance and when he checked if you were still at the cliff after the show, you were gone. He couldn't tell if it was because of the noise or because the show had ended; but he felt a little disheartened.

@!; Floyd would play this one-sided game of eye-spy for months before he spotted a night when you weren't you. He had began to make it a habit to leave you a little plate of food (well little for you) before every Brozone performance. His personal thank you for watching the show despite your (maybe) sensitives ears. He was going to go place the plate of food at the top of the cliff when he stopped midway through his hike to see a Troll standing at the top of the cliff. At least, it looked like a Troll? Yet they seemed taller, even more so when Floyd slowly approached closer. Your hair also was more abundant than other Trolls, even for adults. He was cautious as he approached you, keeping the plate of food close to him as he tried to scope out who you were before he interacted. Yet before he could figure out who you were, you snapped your head around to stare into the dead of night . . . directly at him. Floyd froze, not sure if you could see him or not and not wanting to find out. Though it was light you weren't even a Troll for a second, taking in a sniff before your hair stood up for a moment; prickling like a cat's hair standing up when frightened. Slowly you approached him with heavy footsteps, your height slowly growing in the moonlight as your shadow was drawn out. For a moment Floyd thought he was as good as dead. He didn't know what to do! Frazzled, he quickly shoved out the plate of food he had indented for his friend and not this stranger about to commit (possible) cannibalism. And that's when he heard your footsteps come to a stop and a heavy huff from someone's nose hit the top of his head, causing him to cautiously open one eye. And he felt like fainting as soon as he did that. Though he couldn't help opening both eyes in complete terror seeing a Troll tower over him in an unnatural height. Your eyes pierced down at him, their glow in the moonlight somehow familiar yet Floyd could not piece it together at this moment of panic. "Please don't eat me!" Floyd blurted out, the only thing between him and you being a plate of food. Yet you didn't answer, at least not right away. Your silence was as terrifying as your glare and staggering height. "I promise you I don't taste good!-" The words fell out before Floyd had even realized he had said them, watching with terror as you leant down. He wasn't sure what you were doing, but he hoped it wasn't serving your next meal's horror before deciding whether or not you should eat him. Yet there was something in your eyes that softened, a small smile that seemed to creep onto your lips. And for once after meeting you in this form, Floyd felt like he wasn't going to get mauled. Which was a good thing, a really good thing... For him at least. "So you're the one who's been leaving me food!" Your voice was not at all how he imagined it, as it seemed to carry some sort of friendliness he's not even heard from some Trolls. It was also a bit rougher, your English oddly unperfected for a Troll for the age Floyd guessed you were. "I-.. uh, what?" Though what did you mean Floyd was leaving you food? Maybe you were confusing him for someone else, or maybe you were eating the food he intended for his friend. Either way he tried to clear the confusion, "I'm sorry no, I don't think so. I've been leaving food here for.." "Yes, for me." You interrupted Floyd before he could finish, giving him a rather big grin. Yet, no matter how friendly you seemed, your words caused him to become that more confuddled. Even more so when you held out your hands flat, as though you were expected Floyd to just hand you the plate ... really incorrectly. He thought for a brief moment that you may be related to the animal that perches itself at the cliffside, though he didn't think too long on that possibility; as would it even be possible?

Either way, to save some trouble for now, Floyd carefully handed you the plate of food; watching as you held it from the bottom flat in your hands and grinned brighter before rushing off to the side of the cliff. He wasn't sure if he should follow you or not. "Come, friend! We eat to show!" You gestured for Floyd to follow as you sat at the iconic cliff he's seen the animal so many times. And despite his hesitation, and his logicality telling him not to, he deiced to join the Troll. I mean, what could be the harm? Floyd almost missed his performance that day. JD wasn't happy yet, oddly enough, something inside Floyd made him rather indifferent. Not uncaring, because he always cared about his brothers feelings and letting down JD was last on his list; yet, he didn't care as much as he should have. And that caught him by suprise. He wondered if it had to do something with you...

@!; The day the band broke up, Floyd went to seek you first. You two had grown close after the countless nights you spent upon the cliff, chatting and eating. Floyd just couldn't stand being able to leave without giving you a proper goodbye, you have been his closest friend outside his family after all. He found you lower on the cliff this day, still stalking in your animal form. Your ears were completely pinned back, and he was sure you had saw what had happened during that performance; it was the biggest disaster storm ever. "Hey! H-" Floyd didn't even have to call you twice before you perked up, snapping your attention over to him. He grew sheepish seeing your sudden smile, and he could only guess you had been utterly worried about him since the performance. Though he didn't expect you to be so worried you would bound towards him on all fours, causing him to yelp and quickly brace for impact. Yet, you never hit, and Floyd heard as you skidded yourself to a stop right in front of him and plopped down on your bottom. Letting out an excited yelp before licking him once, then twice. Causing him to laugh and try to push your snout away, a silent signal for you to turn back into a Troll. Which you didn't seem to get the hint for instantly, as you licked him thrice before standing up and twirling in a circle. Laughing, Floyd covered his eyes and let you turn back, opening them only when he heard your voice again; "Floyd! What in the hell happened out there?! One minute you guys were doing fine and it seemed like-" Your voice was as lovely as ever, and Floyd instantly felt a pang in his heart knowing he wouldn't be able to hear it as often anymore. His face became rather gloomy at that sudden realization he hadn't thought of before now. Maybe visiting you wasn't- no, he can't think like that! You deserved the truth as much as Branch did. He can't simply walk off and keep you sitting here, watching and wondering where he had gone for years on end. That wasn't right. "(y/n)!" Floyd jolted at the suddenness of his voice, and how firm it sounded. He didn't mean for his words to come out so harsh, though your ranting didn't do much to help his heart... or the decision he knew he had to make. Oh and your eyes, the way they shone in the moonlight. Floyd could see how startled he had made you, as he's never used such a voice with you; yet it had done the job and hushed you up, even for now. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you. I just-" Floyd's lip twitched as he thought for the easiest way to blow this to you. The easiest way to let you down after all the nights you had spent together. The easiest way for him to accept everything that was happening and everything he had to do and everything that needed to be done.. but oh poor Branch and poor you, neither of you deserved this- "Floyd.. it's okay." Floyd was brought back to his thoughts, snapped back with the feeling of your hands grabbing his and your voice echoing in his ears. He opened his seized eyes and glanced up at yours; you were leaning down again, and Floyd laughed through the tears he didn't realize were spilling down. "You're doing it again.." Floyd mumbled, his voice wobbly. Your hands raced to his cheeks, cupping them and undoubtably feeling the hot, wet tears streaming down as you began to clear them. Floyd dropped his hands to his sides, they felt all to heavy right now. "No you're doing it again." Your voice was uncharacteristically steady, none if it's usual fluctuating like a dog excited to see it's owner. "You're overthinking and... and thinking of everyone else before you think about yourself! Floyd, whatever you're going to say to me, whatever you're keeping in that mind of yourself, you're going to tell me now, okay? And you're going to tell me and you're not going to worry about how I feel and you're going to be firm on your decision... because you're strong and we're friends and I won't be mad with you no matter what you tell me."

@!; That night, Floyd knew, for sure, that he was in love with you. And that made telling you all that harder as his heart yelled at his brain to stay, but his brain knew that they couldn't go back on their choice. He had to leave, even if for a week or month or year. He knew he needed space from the Village and everyone inside.. but not you and Branch. Defiantly not you. And oh the broken look in your eyes got him, but the way you tried to smile through it and agree that the space is what he needed made him fall even more in love. You were so strong, you kept to your word... Maybe Floyd could stay one more night. And he did, he cuddled up with you for his last night in the Village; you both watched the stars, all cozied up in your hair. And god, has Floyd never felt a Troll's' hair so soft. He almost couldn't pull himself out from it in the morning when you were still clinging onto him, trapping him with both your body and your hair. He felt tempted to doze back to sleep, yet knew he had to leave now (while he still had the will power) then wait before you woke up. He knew if he saw your broken look again, that look in your eyes that you could never hide, he couldn't bring himself to leave. So when you woke up in the morning, you found yourself alone; completely alone in a middle of your blanket made of your hair. Floyd had left before you had woke up and you would find yourself sulking in that position for longer than you would have thought.

@!; You didn't see Floyd again, yet you heard from him up till a few years into his exploration of the unknown; journeying to find himself in the chaotic world beyond the village. You didn't leave from the outskirts of the Pop village, as that's were you had figured out you could thrive the most without interacting with other Trolls or animals. So when Floyd's letters began to run dry, you knew it wasn't because he didn't know where to send it. No that's never been a problem before, especially with the bugs that were used to deliver the messages so they never went through Troll post. You had first thought that he had forgotten to write a letter that day and he would send you one tomorrow. He didn't. You then figured he was just somewhere where he couldn't right or get a bug to deliver the letter. But after a month of sitting and waiting anxiously, you figured that couldn't be the reason either. Floyd never stayed in a place for this long, and the letter he had sent you last made it sound like he was going to a place where he could continue to send letters. Another option came to mind, what if Floyd had just stopped sending letter because he just grew tired of you? He found someone else who captured his attention better than you did! Who could write in pretty cursive and spell words and speak correctly. Who could bake for him pies and cupcakes, who could sing and dance with him in the proper way that a Troll could. That was the first day you ever felt truly alone ever since Floyd left. Sure, you missed him dearly; Missed his smile and his caring ways and his company but never did you ever feel truly lonely. The type of lonely that made you upset and aggravated. The type of lonely that stung more than a throne in your paw, or a bee sting. The type of lonely that made you think back on all the memories you had with Floyd and made you think two different thoughts all at once: What was the point? Can I get those times back? It was torture. Two months of agonizing torture that ate you up inside with no remorse.

@!; Two months inside that horrible diamond prison, Floyd was finally free. Sure he had some white in his hair now, and felt fatigue come onto him easier when singing, but he was free; Free and with his brothers heading back to the Pop Troll village where Brozone (kind of reestablished) was going to chill for a minute before maybe going back their separate ways. "Oh my god, did we ever tell you that Floyd use to have a crush in the village when he was younger?!" JD turned around from the console of his caterpillar-like trailer, a snicker plastered right across his face. His comment instantly flipped the attention of everyone else, who had been lounging around the 'living space' of the trailer and chatting about nothing exciting. At least, nothing exciting to John Dory. "Oh! I almost forgot about that!" Bruce started as Branch looked between his brothers, noticing as Floyd let out a small groan and covered his face. "Oh not this gain..." Floyd mumbled, though not completely under his breath. "What?! JD you have to be joking right now!" Poppy jumped to a start, Viva seemed to be right beside her; jumping to her sister's side, placing her hands on Poppy's shoulders with such interest you would think JD had just brought up party plans. "Oh I'm so not joking." JD couldn't help but laugh, crossing his arms. "Floyd used to sneak off before the start of every show and see his little crush! It was so cute." And there was the teasing tone that Floyd could never forget. He hadn't hoped they didn't bring up this topic, but now he wished he had begged on his knees to anything above that his brothers had forgotten. "Oooh~ Floyd! Who was the lucky troll?" Viva questioned, mirroring her sister's excitement yet with a slight more mature feeling. "Well-" Floyd couldn't even begin before JD took over again. "We never got the chance to see them!" "Oh yeah, and we tried hard too. Stalked Floyd anytime he went out to see if we could find any sort of glimpse on who this Troll was. But we never found them." Clay informed, leaning back against the couch as an amused glint crossed his eyes; he glanced over to Floyd, who was still hiding his head. "Can we PLEASE change the topic?!" Floyd begged, but he guessed that his humiliation was much too entertaining to his brothers (mostly JD). "Nope! Never got the chance to see them. It was like- the biggest mystery in all of BroZone history." JD made this sound more ominous than it needed to be. More mysterious than a unclosed murder case that was more boggling than answerable. His serious tone didn't help it either. "Oh my god, Viva!-" Poppy turned to her sister, who held a knowing look. "To the clue board?" "To the clue board! Don't worry we'll find this troll." Poppy exploded like a star as Viva and her rushed over to the clue board that Branch had set up. They didn't waste time before they began to excitedly chat over possibly candidates and theories. Floyd felt more embarrassed than the day his brothers had started that whole mess, and he wasn't sure how that was even possible! Branch watched the two sisters for a moment before turning over to his brothers, thoroughly confused, "Wait... why did no one tell me this?!"

@!; Floyd wasn't sure how he would break this news to his brothers, but all he knew is that he needed to get to you first. He knew you just as you knew him, and he knew his disappearance would have a cause for concern... or maybe alarm or distress. Everything that Floyd didn't want you to feel when you thought about him because he should be your safe space and you had been his. "Guys! I'll be right back." Floyd shouted to his brothers when the caterpillar bus had came to a stop in front of the Pop village; And Floyd was sure he literally flew out the door with more force than necessary before he began to run down the village. "Bring them home for dinner!" Floyd could hear JD's sly remark before he was no longer in earshot of the van. Though he was sure he could hear something about "Kids growing up too fast" and some shared lighthearted laughter. Floyd couldn't care at the moment; not when all his brain buzzed about was finding you and making sure you were okay. What if you had gotten hurt during your time of no communication. What if you began to think that Floyd no longer cared for you or that something had happened to your or- Floyd's mind raced faster than he could keep up with and it felt like he was no longer racing against time yet against his own thoughts; not thinking about the fact that he had crossed the village in record time or that his brothers watched him rush straight into the woods by that cliff he had found a friend on and then love. That cliff where he had stargazed with you and shared thoughts he hadn't shared with anyone else. That cliff where you had showed him your way of life and let him closer than any other Troll had been with you. That cliff were everything happened in a secret silence that felt just right. That cliff were time seemed to stop. That cliff where he first found your eyes and saw your face last when he left. That cliff.. That cliff. That cliff!- Floyd was jolted away from the edge of the cliff, something he didn't realize he was just about to run off due to being lost in his emotion. A firm grip on the back of his pants had yanked him away, throwing him down onto the floor as now someone was between him and that cliff. "Are you crazy?! You were about to throw yourself off!-" Floyd didn't expect his baby brother's voice to shout at him and snap him out of his flurry of thoughts. He didn't expect Branch to be the one to stand there between him and the cliff. It was meant to be you. Not that he was meaning to throw himself off a cliff to find you, he would never put that type of trauma onto anyone or even think about such as thing. But you were meant to be here, meant to greet him on this cliff, meant to... where were you? Floyd didn't answer his brother as he scrambled onto his feet, numb from the running. He didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. He began to look around frantically, up and down the cliff, left and right. He rushed to some bushed and trees and tried looking more in depth as Branch stood there; never having seen his brother so disorientated and frazzled. "Floyd? Floyd!" Branch tried to get his brother's attention, "Floyd what are you looking for?" You. Where were you? Floyd didn't realize he didn't answer his brother; he had thought he had, but he didn't. He simply jumped off a rock and to the lower side of the cliff before he continued his search. Branch cautiously followed him, slowly lowering himself down from the rock and onto the ground. He watched Floyd look everywhere before Floyd jolted to a stop and stared in front of him. "(Y/N)!" It was a pained cry as Floyd rushed forward, pushing himself off of a tree to give himself a boost. "Floyd!" Branch yelled, following his brother in a panic. "Floyd you can't run into the forest around the village they're dangerous! Flo-" And Branch paused seeing who his brother approached. "Floyd!"

Floyd had no hesitation rushing over to an enormous beast that laid in the middle of a field, soaking in the sun. The beast had clear patches of its fur bitten off, and Branch couldn't tell whether it was self inflicted due to nerves or if it was from a fight. It perked its ears, then its head as it heard Floyd' shouting. It scanned the field and Branch felt himself rushing over to his brother. "FLOYD!" Branch's yell fell short as he saw the beast jump to its paws and rush over to his brother. Branch felt adrenaline rush through his body as he was sure he was about to watch his brother get eaten by a rapid animal. And Branch wasn't in range to catch the beast's muzzle with his hair, and Branch was sure that Floyd wouldn't attack it for whatever reason, and- wait... what? Branch kicked up dirt as he skidded to a stop, watching at the beast popped into an unusually tall Troll who grabbed Floyd in bear hug before spinning the two around. Branch watched with so much bewilderment that he questioned what JD had put in the drink he had given him. He had to be seeing things. That beast didn't just transform into a troll, right? Branch let out an airy bit of laughter as he watched the taller Troll trip on their own legs, causing the two of them to crash down and laugh loudly. Laugh like long lost lovers or crushes who had just found each other again, some sort of star-crossed lovers situation you would only find in books. Branch let out a small huff before carefully walking over to Floyd and you on the floor, laughing like maniacs. "What happened to you?!" Floyd reached up to cup your cheeks, worry rushing to his eyes as he noticed the bits of your hair that were fried and clearly chewed off. "No! No what happened to you?!" Sure, maybe you should have answered Floyd's question before asking one but you were too worried! This man disappears off the face of the planet for 2 months with no explanation then comes back like nothing ever happened?! You wouldn't stand for it, nor would you sit or lay for it either. Your hands rushed up to his, cupping over his hands which were cupping your cheeks. "I asked the question question first!" Quipped Floyd with a cheeky, beaming grin. Oh, how you've missed that grin so much. You could just squish his cheeks and kiss him at this moment. "I'll tell you what happened to me when you explain what happened to you." "Dea-" "How about you both explain what is happening?" Branch cut in, standing nearby with crossed arms and an amused smile. Floyd shot his head up, you simply turned to the side, to see that smile and oh- Floyd for a moment thought Branch was about to use this for some sort of blackmail against their brothers. "Branch!" Floyd sat up with a startle, having forgotten his brother had been here... and that he kind of saved Floyd from running off a cliff earlier. "Who are you?" Floyd heard you ask from under him and he knew he had a lot of explaining to do in that moment. But hey, if all he had to do was introduce you to his family, and hope they would accept you for your differences, then he would do that. He would do that and more to be able to be next to you, in your arms and in your reach. He would do anything to be able to keep you close. And next time he left the village, Floyd was not leaving without you.

@!; BONUS SNIPIT

"Wait, so you're telling me you got captured by some evil green-haired people who put you into a glass bottle made of diamonds and the only way you escapes is because your family made the 'perfect family harmony'?" You asked Floyd with a childlike wonder and a mature skepticism. You both were laying in Floyd's bed, inside his bod, as crickets chirped outside a sweet melody of the night. Floyd knew it sounded unbelievable but, "I'm telling you, this story is 100 percent real." Floyd couldn't help but keep in his laughter at your expressive wide eyes. Taking advantaged of your bewilderment of the situation, Floyd attacked you by snuggling closer; wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer, resting his head against your chest. He didn't have to look up at you to know you were cocking your eyebrow up in a questioning way, trying to think the logistics of the story over in your head. Yet you still wrapped your arms around Floyd's back, your hair stretching out to wrap the both of you in its fuzzy and cozy warmth. Floyd let out a deep sigh, you felt it against your chest; he missed these moments, and you did too. Moments that seemed to stand still, yet not in a boring way. In a way where Floyd got to soak up every second of being with you, and you got to soak up every second with him. Where you could feel like time was racing by, yet checked and it had only been a few minutes and you had more time to cuddle and just talk and be together than you had thought. Moments like these were the best feeling in the world. "I still don't believe you." You jokingly poke Floyd in the back, causing him to yelp and arch away from your pointy nail. You watched as he looked up at you with the most playfully challenging look; an eyebrow cocked upwards and his eyes glittering in the small light of the dimmed lamp. "Well it happened! I don't know what to tell you." He sassed back, rolling his eyes in a playful manner before he laid his head back against your chest. You tightened your arms around Floyd, which caused him to smile softly. No matter what happened, what had happened. Floyd was back now and neither of you were leaving each others side again; at least not now or in the near future unless it was forced.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#brozone x reader #floyd trolls x reader #trolls band together #floyd x reader #floyd trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fandom #trolls 3 #trolls #trolls dreamworks #brozone #clay trolls #trolls world tour #queen poppy #trolls branch

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sanctus-ingenium · 6 months

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Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

#fr you will never catch me trying to mystify my process i will explain literally everything #brushes

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fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 28 days

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What did you just say? Pt. 2.

Aegon x FEM reader.

Aegon confronts his mother, the truth leaves his mouth as the fire leaves the snout of his dragon. To his surprise you don't share the same desires of being with him anymore.

Warning: maybe it wasn't as good as the first part lol. Grammatical and spelling errors, maybe a Dark obsessed Aegon at the end but nothing very serious.

Credits of these gifs to whoever they belong to

(...) The goblet In his hand flew to the other side of the room, tension filled the room, silence was uncomfortable, then, Aegon simply asked.

- What did you just say?

Poor servant, avoiding Aegon's look, he simply muttered and kneeled down.

- I... Said lady y/n is pregnant... please Forgive me my king, I beg for your pardon.

Aegon didn't understand why the servant was apologizing, he only rolled his eyes, he was furious, fire was running through his body.

- Get up and leave. ALL OF YOU, LEAVE! I need to talk with my mother. NOW!

Everybody left the room in an instant, Alicent was in the same place, she didn't move but was also avoiding to see her son.

- Look at me and tell me you didn't know about this, mother.

She looked at him but was speechless, there were no words.

- TELL ME YOU DIDN'T!

She felt fear, she was always behind him, she was always the one who reprimanded him, but right now, she's feeling like a little kid In trouble.

- Aegon, you have to understand...

- Understand what? Is it not enough that we're all dragged into this unhappy family, full of hypocrisy and sadness for all your decisions? Your decisions had taken us to misery, my sister is right, if you weren't so blind and full of hate against Rhaenyra our story would be different.

- This, is totally unfair, You have no idea of the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne.

- A throne I never asked for! This is all your Father wants! You've been so blind, thinking you're doing all this because of the safety of the crown, your family and the kingdom when In fact, it is only that old man's desire, to see his own blood sitting on that stupid chair!

- ENOUGH!.

Aegon's point of view wasn't totally wrong, he always saw his grandfather as a spider knitting its web waiting for its prey, like a moth attracted to the brilliant things, waiting for the right moment to get inside and be around the warm and brightest light, an opportunist, that's how Aegon secretly always described his grandfather. He sighed, clearly annoyed.

-...When did you receive the news of her marriage?

- Months ago, I received a letter when she was betrothed to him... and later another one arrived with the news of her wedding, but I can promise you that I don't know nothing about her pregnancy, I doubt she is pregnant.

Her words are honest but not reassuring enough to calm Aegon.

- Do you see me, mother? Do you see how painful it is for me? This marriage with my own sister, this crown over my head that I never wanted. Your decisions had been brought pain not only for me but for my siblings too. You hate Rhaenyra for all the things you consider wrong and improper , but I've done all of them too, and you hide them and pretend we're the good ones, it's pure hypocrisy. Helaena could be happier if you accepted the proposal of marriage with Jace or even if you married her to Aemond she would be happier, I could be happier if I were married with (y/n) and you wouldn't have your youngest son far from you and his true home, but no... Here we are, with a war knocking on our door, our family crumbling and with my beloved In the arms of that fuckin' wolf In the north!

Alicent approached Aegon, trying to be a loving mother, her hands on Aegon's cheeks, she can see his eyes, there's anger, pain and deception. She's trying to convince him that your marriage can bring good things in his favor.

- Aegon, you cannot see it now, but the marriage of lady (y/n) with Cregan Stark could be useful, she will do anything you asked her, she will ally to us in this war if it's necessary. Your brothers will fight at your side and your wife and children will be there too.

Aegon gave a step back, neglecting with his head, his face only shows how disgusted he feels. He never expected kind words from her but also not this kind of poorly try to calm him down, at this point he feels like he's trapped, he's a little boy trapped in a man's body, he wants to run away from that room, he needs to calm himself before doing something he could regret later.

Suddenly, your voice and the memory of your face, your hands and the affection between you and him filled his mind. You were his safe place years ago and yet, he still thinks about you when he feels lost and suffocated.

He left the room while Alicent was yelling his name, some guards tried to go behind him but he stopped us, he only wanted a person close to him, You.

He arrived at the dragon's pitch, Sunfyre his precious Dragon sensed instantly Aegon's emotions and roared to let Aegon know it was ready to fly away with him.

And that's what they did, Aegon disappeared in the sky, the clouds covered them, it was possible to hear them but to see in what direction they went wasn't that easy.

You were in your chambers resting when one of your ladies appeared, pallid as snow.

- My lady. There's... A... A dragon landed not so far from the castle.

You sit on your bed quickly, it is not possible, you try to calm yourself thinking it can be any dragon.

- A dragon? Which one?

- I'm not sure, it looked like a golden dragon, shined like the sun.

No, no, no. The fear of seeing him after all this time has appeared and grown inside you.

- What do we have to do my lady?

- Bring my coat, we have to welcome our unexpected guest by our own since Cregan is not here.

As soon as you arrived at the hall of the castle, Aegon was already there, waiting.

- My... (You doubted) King. What do we owe the honor of your visit?

- Lady (y/n), I recently found out about your marriage, I merely came to give you my congratulations.

- Thank you, my king, I've been blessed with such a wonderful marriage with a good lord.

- Where's he?

- Hunting, we weren't expecting visitors or he would be here to give you a proper welcome.

- That's fine, lady (y/n) I would like to have a private audience with you.

You looked at your ladies and knights, you didn't say a word but they understood instantly and left you alone with Aegon.

- What are the real motives of your visit... My king?

- there's no need for such formalities (Y/n)...

- Well, tell me Aegon, what are you doing here?

- I came here... To take you with me.

You are in shock, while he is walking to you, getting more and more close.

- Pardon?

- Come with me, we will annul our marriages, now that I'm king, only my word is the law. We can finally marry as it was planned years ago.

You're still surprised, you haven't moved from your place, he doesn't wait and hugs you, you can feel his nose in the crook of your neck, it's just like when you were children, he was always hiding his face in your neck while you were hugging each other, it was innocent and pure. But you two are not children anymore, both are married now, he's father and king now, you're married and soon to be mother, you haven't bled In two moons or more, your breast started to grow and hurt a little, and all your ladies had told you you look different, more beautiful, Cregan said to you that being pregnant with a boy brings more beauty to some women.

You kindly stepped back, you will not leave your husband or your new home just for an old childhood love. Aegon doesn't look surprised by your reaction.

- You don't smell like the roses anymore, now you smell like forest and berries.

- I've changed, you don't smell like cotton and Oak either, you smell like ashes and sea. You've changed too, my king.

- Probably we changed, but I'm sure our feelings are still the same (y/n) please let's go, you don't belong here, your place is at my side... Please.

His pleading eyes are like knives in your heart, but there's no way this works, people will speak, your parents will abandon you, you know a war is coming and you know who your house will support. And there's Cregan, the man of your dreams, the one who took his time to know all about you, the man who patiently won your trust and your heart, he made you a promise under the God's tree, you did too and you will not break it.

- We're adults now, Aegon, those dreams were erased, I'm married and I love him, a wolf grows inside me, I will not leave nothing of this just for an old children's dream, I moved on.

Aegon's eyes are full of tears, you're breaking his heart, but someone needs to be right-minded. You're observing him with sadness and pity while him is remembering what Alicent told him. You would do anything he asked you, maybe his mother is right, if he can't have you as wife, at least he can have you as an ally.

- I understand, you're right, I'm being a fool and I ask you to forgive me.

- It's okay Aegon...

You held his hand and squeezed it, he's contemplating the small interaction and then he looks into your eyes.

- I want to ask you for something else too.

- Go on, tell me.

- People say a war is coming, my question or the favor I want to ask for, is, will your house and the north join me?

You know the answer to that, you know your house and the north decisions are, even you have your own decision. Maybe you can avoid this uncomfortable moment.

- Aegon... I beg for your pardon but I cannot decide the loyalty of my house or my husband's house on my own. If you wish, you can stay and wait, my husband and I will discuss and consider your proposition.

He smiled at you, certainly he's not pleased with your response, he simply whispered in your ear.

- You're a terrible liar, Lady (Y/n), your decision is already taken, isn't it?... Don't worry, I forgive you, but remember this, After I win this war, I'll be back here and I'll take you with me, I will not have the kindness to ask for your permission or opinion, I will be back for you.

He left a kiss in your cheek and your hand, then he left without saying anything else, the roaring of a dragon echoed through the castle, your ladies appeared just in time to catch you, you fainted.

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his….

“Are you even listening to me?”

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little.

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?”

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?”

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives.

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks.

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.”

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?”

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.”

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip.

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things.

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?”

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.”

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.”

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often.

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous?

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.”

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.”

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment.

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.”

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.”

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.”

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk.

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.”

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.”

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed.

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply.

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?”

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you.

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.”

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’.

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article.

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s.

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible.

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad.

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.”

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw.

“You’re welcome, dulzura.”

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is? No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges.

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night.

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention.

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?”

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.”

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay.

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.”

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.”

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?”

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too.

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.”

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do.

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go.

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at.

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right?

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit.

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before.

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it.

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm.

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him.

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cripplecharacters · 5 days

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Salutations! I’m in the process of creating a story wherein both characters are missing an eye. One has a prosthetic, but is presently isolating themself in the woods, and wears an eyepatch to protect the eye while alone; the other’s socket is either empty, or they have a glass eye with no actual details (iris, pupil, etc.). I’ve struggled to find references for the latter, and fear it may come off as unrealistic. I understand prosthetic eyes keep the eyelid from collapsing, but aside from that could a person just not wear one? If these options are unrealistic, please let me know. I can supply you with concept art if need be.

The story itself centers around these characters after one of them finds the other by accident. They’re painted as foils—the one hiding out in the cabin adhering to a self-made sense of logic that centers on cycles and confirmation bias, while the only who takes refuge there after running away is deeply paranoid and prone to hallucinations. The first character is missing their left eye; the other their right. I don’t want to make a symbol of their disabilities, but I feel their designs simultaneously stress their opposing perspectives, as well as the fact they paradoxically still manage to see “eye-to-eye.” Their visual impairment is just one of many ways they’re able to connect across the story, as they also bond over their obscure passions and delusions, and respect each other’s warped worldview to such an extent said worldviews start to blur together. In addition to this, the story places an emphasis upon an entity known as the “ocellus,” which is basically the “false eye” you see on moth wings. In my outline so far, it’s the name of a mysterious band which the pair discover in a record collection, and resolve to solve the mystery of (regarding the members, music, etc.) One of the characters also sleeps with an eye mask with the pattern of moth wings and their respective ocelli overlaying their own eyes; their paranoid counterpart also sees eyes in the trees and wood of the cabin.

Absolutely none of this is set in stone; before it is, I just want to know how much of it is fine, which parts “moralize” or make a symbol of a disability, and what is straight-up ableist. Please let me know if you need more details.

Hi!

The prosthetic eye has two main functions: 1) to keep the eye area stay in shape, 2) to protect the socket. Both of these can be achieved by conformers (it's like a big contact, except it goes into the socket and not on the eye) which I talked about here!

A blank prosthetic eye would probably be fine. The process of getting it custom painted is expensive from what I know, and IRL a lot of people will decide on the generic kind rather than a custom. If in your world the generic happens to be a blank, there's no problems I can think of? Potentially, you could explicitly say that it's not how most prosthetic eyes look like (maybe someone else knows a person with an eye prosthetic and they comment that it's unusual?). You mentioned that the character doesn't have it in all the time, so I don't think the trope of "blind character has blank/white/milky eyes" applies here because it's clear that it's a prosthetic.

A person could decide to go bare, but the sensation of blinking could be uncomfortable, and they would need to clean their socket more to get rid of anything that could get inside. Normal saline could be used for that.

I don't think there's an issue in them missing different eyes at all. If you want to make sure it's not giving "Just Magic Symbolism" energy then you could incorporate some boring everyday things that would make sense. If they go somewhere together, they could decide to walk missing eye-to-missing eye, so that they see what's going on the sides rather than in the middle, things like that. It could make it feel more grounded, so to speak.

I don't see any issues with the moth fake-eyes symbolism either, I think it makes sense for the story you're trying to tell.

If you want to be very safe, I would have a character (can be minor, or background) that's also missing eye(s) that's not connected to any of the potential symbolism and is more of an average Joe of Not Having an Eye.

In case you decide to get into that, it would be nice for them to have different causes of why they don't have eyes. It feels like in fiction it's always physical trauma, but there's a whole more that could cause someone to not have an eye;

anophthalmia,

retinoblastoma,

severe eye infection,

elective enucleation (removal) of an already blind/painful eye,

just to give you a few ideas! Giving them "boring" everyday reasons of eye loss will also make it feel less symbolic and more like a regular disability. Think "dramatic swordfight with Huge Meaning" vs "yeah I had cancer in my eye when I was 2".

I hope that this helps; if you have any further details you'd like to ask about feel free to send another ask!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #face difference #eye prosthetics

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sketchy-owl · 1 year

Text

...How I met your father...the tale of a bat and a raven...

Mentioned Lilia Vanrouge x fem reader

Silver x mother reader.

(Owlie note: this started as a joke but it became really serious so I couldn't include it in the Dorks in wonderland series)

Silver;*looks at Y/N* ...moth-...Y/N....

Y/N:Silver darling what I've already told you?

Silver:....to keep calling you mother when we are alone.

Y/N:*smiles and pats his head* Exactly, you have a good memory sweetie.

Silver:Mother please...*blushes*

Y/N:Ok ok I'll stop*rises her hands in surrender * what were you trying to say dear?

Silver: How did you meet Lil-...I mean father??

Y/N:Well that's a long story...wait Lilia never told you?

Silver:....He would tell me that you met in school or that you were bound to meet each other by fate or during a fight in a tavern or that he dreamed of you before you actually met. The most absurd one was that you almost killed him.

Y/N:*sighs * Of course he wouldn't tell you the true story but just few details of it, your father lives for those kind of games.

Silver:What do you mean mother?

Y/N: Your father did tell you how me and him met...he put a small piece of the truth in small stories. But now I'll tell you what really happened.

Silver:*nods*

Y/N: Your father and I are indeed bounded by fate, we are something that humans call...."soulmates" so we were destined to meet eachother....but our first meeting wasn't actually the most romantic thing of the world.

Silver: At least it won't be a cheesy tale like the ones father told me.

Y/N:...Well you could call it the tale of a bat and a raven .....You see...I was a warrior from an enemy kingdom...all I knew in my life was fighting...and killing...I was a merciless murderer....at the time I was called "Raven" due to the mask I was wearing...

Silver:*shocked* "The mask I found in the attic...."

Y/N:When I first met your father...it was during a war...I still remember that day...as if it was yesterday... I was killing every single soldier not caring if they were enemies or allies...then my general:

Flashback

~In the middle of the battlefield~

General: The queen is right there!! Raven!! Go an kill her!!!

"What the queen was in the battlefield!?"

"Yes she was, I was surprised too... I've never seen someone brave as her. So brave to fight along with her people...the king I was 'serving'...was a real coward he sent his soldiers to war and never dared to fight with them....now can I go on?"

"Yes...I'm sorry mother...."

General: Hurry you useless slave! It's your occasion...

Y/N:...*looks at the queen and runs to her ready to strike with the sword*

"As I was about to cut her head off...your father came in to stop me"

Lilia:Not so fast!*stops Y/N's sword*

Y/N:....*stares at Lilia with cold eyes*

Lilia:*smirks* You must be the famous Raven I've heard about!!! Finally I have the honor to meet you! You look very strong but what general I would be if I'd let you kill my Queen.

~Present~

Silver: Father was no different from now.

Y/N:*chuckles* Yes...We fought for days and nights...none of us dared to stop...It was...exciting....because I had finally found someone strong as me...*smiles*

Silver:Who won?

Y/N:Your father of course. He used magic, my army was defeated and while they were running away ...I was left behind...

Silver:Cowards...

Y/N: Well it was good for me don't you think?

Silver: Yes of course.

~Flashback~

Maleficia: *looks at Y/N* They left the raven here...

Lilia: How foolish...he was their best warrior...

Y/N:...you.....masters?.....kill....me?

Maleficia:*her eyes widen* General...remove the mask immediately...

Lilia:*do as she said*....WHAT!? A woman!?

Maleficia:....poor creature....*gets close to Y/N*....what did they do to you....

Y/N:....me raven....me kill...

Lilia: She was literally raised as a warrior...not even given a proper education...She repeats the words she heard the most....

Maleficia:.... for how long were you fighting....no....how many masters you had...

Y/N: .....masters....dead...old....many...

Maleficia:She is not a human...she must be like us....probably from a conquered village...

Lilia:This explains her unnatural strength....she could be even stronger with magic...

Maleficia:....*looks at Y/N's face* those E/C ....She's...from the Kourona Montains ....tribe...

~Present ~

Silver: Kourona?? Wasn't that your last name?

Y/N:Yes....Apparently I was the only survivor of the Kourona Tribe... I rare fairy kind... who lived 500 years ago... after the war the Queen welcomed me to her Kingdom... I received a proper education I learned how to speak, read and use my magic.

Silver: Wait....Fairy?? But do you don't...

Y/N:Have wings? Well as you may know not all faes have wings but the Kourona tribe was famous for having the most beautiful wings among all fae...

Silver:..mother...what happened to yours?

Y/N:I had them once...but they took them away from me...

Silver:*shocked*....Forgive me mother I'm making you remember all those bad things...*looks down*

Y/N:*caresses his cheek* My dear son...I may have suffered at first for those 200 years....but my pain was rewarded with wonderful.... gifts...A home....a man who loves me...and...

Silver:And?

Y/N:*smiles* And you my dear son.

Silver:*tears up and hugs Y/N*....thank you mother..

Y/N: I'm the one who should thank you for bringing me happiness...*holds him close* my precious son.

Lilia:*appears from nowhere *What? Hugs session without me?I'm offended.

Y/N:*rolls her eyes* Don't you have something else to do then bothering us?

Lilia:My little raven you wound me...*dramatic pose *

Y/N: If I really wanted to wound you I would use something stronger.

Silver:....*smiles and hugs both of them*

Lilia:*looks at Y/N and whispers* What happened he never acted this way...

Y/N:*smiles* it's a long story....my bat.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland lilia #silver #silver twst #twst silver #silver twisted wonderland #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia x reader #silver x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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hanafubukki · 1 year

Text

Malleus Draconia’s Flower Bouquet Meaning

Twst Bdays Flower Language Masterlist

I have been waiting and waiting for the release of Malleus’ 3rd Bday card with such anticipation. I literally waited every day until the time Twst JP usually updates with news for some semblance of Malleus Bday card news.

AND NOW MY BOY IS HERE AND HE LOOKS SO FINE PLEASE. His smirk with the fangs sends me. His wink is so cute! Lilia is raising these boys right! Look at HIM.

January is the moth of Diasomnia and I love it, we have Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek card releases. (Diasomnia Stans I hope your gems survive).

As I did with Lilia’s Bouquet Post , I will be writing more than I usually do. Malleus Draconia is one of my favorite twst characters and he deserves it and all the effort (in this love essay, I will). In addition, I will be adding possible theories along the way and will be mentioning book 7 too and other cards that have been released, so heed spoilers for book 7 and cards that might have not released yet.

At first glance, Malleus’ Bouquet reminded me of Trey’s Bouquet . In the sense that it reminded me of a salad, and I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because of it. When you think about some of the meanings previously discussed in Trey’s Bouquet, it applies to Malleus as well when you think about it: past, present, and future. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we will discuss that later.

It’s really nice seeing Malleus so happy especially without any worries right now (basically flirting with us lolol). After book 7 chapter 1, I am happy he is full of energy and amusement.

I do wish that his bouquet had more colors to make it pop more, but like Lilia’s, Malleus’ bouquet does fit him rather well. It can give you a glimpse of his past and current mindset, and also a hint to the future of what may come. (please, my heart.)

Some observations from just from a glance, Malleus’ bouquet may not pop as much color wise, but you know what it does really well? It blends into the environment rather seamlessly. Unlike Trey, who doesn't like to stand out and would rather blend in, which shows in his flowers. For malleus, it is not by choice. He blends in seamlessly because he is forgotten by those around him. When he is not forgotten, people are scared of him and tend to run away. The only ones to truly notice him missing are Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and MC.

We know that Malleus hates being forgotten and left out and this bouquet shows that while he blends in to the environment, it is not by choice and some of the flower meanings show his feelings towards being forgotten and ostracized. (I’ll never forget you Malleus 💕💕).

Greem flowers tend to be rare and on further research, they also tend to be mutations in some variations of flowers. This fits Malleus because we can all say that he is a highly respected figure, not only is he a future king in the Valley of Thorns, but he is one of the top ten strongest mages in the world. If we went further, Malleus is a type of dragon fae, and royalty, maybe he might or might not be the last of his kind? Only time will tell, as we know the only relative he has right now is his grandmother. I

In terms of magic power, malleus is extremely strong and we can see how the story swings and the narrative changes when he deigns to step in and help. Book 5, Malleus fixed the stage hence allowing for VDC to continue, and in book 6, he helped Vil by making him young again. We have seen in masquerade the magic potential he has and how that affects the environment as well, and in book 7 a well. Malleus is unique and rare, and that could also show why he is so revered heavily by everyone else when all he wants is to be invited and share experiences with others.

I love how Malleus is also winking in this card, as he is in other cards. You certainly get the Diasomnia closeness as because sebek was also winking in his cards. We also have the smile that Lilia and Silver all share too, which I think is cute! I might be wrong but I think all the third years so far have been winking?

Now, let’s talk about some rather interesting...moves that twst played with the release of this Malleus card. First of all, with the release of the Malleus Bday card, We also received the Silver Dorm SSR card. This is interesting because this is the first time they released a Dorm SSR card without a story update. What’s more, its rather interesting they chose to release it with the Malleus card which makes me wonder how purposely did they do this? Was this as a way to show the connection Silver and Malleus has?

As in a sense, Malleus can be paralleled to Maleficent and Silver could be Aurora (and the Sword, Shield, and Prince Philip technically) from what we see on the surface level. It's as if they are telling us these two are more connected than we realize and maybe they are a mirror too (or like that one promo where you see Maleficent on one side and the princess on another as two opposite spectrums).

Considering the opposite styles that Malleus and Silver were raise (by Lilia no less), it hurts to see how much this is stressed. You can tell familial love will play a big role in book7 from this alone. It also makes it seem like they are pushing Malleus to play this evil role that he clearly doesn't want to be in when all he wants is to belong and be invited.

Another interesting point I want to bring up is that, Silver is the only one without the title that basically says “___ Protector of the Valley of Thorns” Instead, He is the sleeping guardian. So, we have this disconnect between the four and shows how much of the role Silver might play when it comes to the other three diasomnia residents. This Post shows the English titles and this post is a jp comment about it as well I believe .

It alludes more and more to the fact that Silver has a connection to ‘dreams’ and that could also be a hint on how Malleus and everyone could be saved given that Malleus is the King of the Abyss as well. Maybe, Silver’s UM is connected to dreams as everyone speculate, but I digress. We know at the end of the day, these two have a connection and only time will tell what kind of connection and what it will put everyone through (and how it will eventually wreck us too, get your tissue boxes ready everyone. Book 7 chapter 1 already came for us without reprieve.)

Another fact that I find funny is that Malleus’ Duo is Ace. So, I can’t wait to see how Ace and Malleus interact given that Ace....doesn’t care for manners when it comes to people in power and will basically say what's on his mind. Which, we can see from Endless Halloween. I also personally find it funny because many people tend to ship MC with Ace and Malleus and these two always end up in a triangle and I can’t wait to see what happens after the interview lol Ace also doesn’t have his UM so maybe its a hint of Ace’s role in Book 7 (he could be hiding it as well, since we know how much of a trickster he is).

Malleus’ card spells are similar to those of Idia’s Bday ones apparently. Which is funny and interesting given that Idia will play a big role in book 7, especially in terms of grief and moving on and recovering from the loss of a loved one.

I can’t wait to see Malleus’ groovy. I hope its either in dawn or dusk because that would not only be beautiful but give a wonderful symbolism as well.

Malleus holding the bouquet so effortlessly also shows his strength, I mean look at him, no struggle at all.

You know what makes me so soft about Malleus’ bouquet? It’s that he has signs of those he loves in his bouquet. He has flowers that symbolizes Lilia, Sebek, Silver, and even MC/Yuu.

Now, lets talk about Flowers 🌺💚🌺💚

[As usual, my disclaimer from before stands, flowers have many different meanings depending on region and color, so the meanings I have might differ from the meanings you know.]

In addition, I know there were some feelings of sadness going around with Malleus’ bouquet because most of the associated flower language were negative, but remember every flower has more than one meaning and together, the flower language can change as a whole depending on the bouquet. It also depends on the meaning we choose to empathize over the others.

His flowers are kind of hard to tell, so I put whichever ones I thought they might be. Get your hearts ready and anything you have that has Malleus’ face because you are going to want to hug him. (total opposite from how I wanted to yeet Lilia during his post lol)

Flower Colors (general meaning):

Green Flowers: Health, resilience, good fortune, and youth. We know Malleus is young in terms of Fae age and we know he also has to learn and mature more when in comes to certain instances over the others. Some examples we have seen was when things didn’t go his way and you can see the weather being affected, but also we have to consider that he never really got to act his age has he? Health and good fortune for his future.

White Flowers: True love, purity, innocence, sympathy. We know True Love Kiss plays a role in Sleeping Beauty and I can’t wait to see how it plays a role for book 7. In a way, Malleus is innocent in his experience with anything related to modern times, and his situation does make you feel for him. (Malleus, we love you 💕).

Red Flowers: Love, passion, pride, vigor, and strength. (rather fitting, wouldn’t you say?)

Bouquet:

Green Roses: Renewal, rejuvenation of spirit and energy, growth, abundance, balance, stability, peace, good news and new beginnings. Possibly the future healing that Malleus will go through? (you know, after his mental breakdown...I know know, I’ll be quiet now) [To my knowledge, green roses do not mean jealously. It’s the yellow roses.] I was hoping they would give him red roses to symbolize his rose garden back home too.

Carnation: Fascination, distinction, and love. In Greek, it is known as God’s Flower. As some tend to worship Malleus like a God, it's rather fitting for him to have this flower. (Sebek and some diasomnia students come to mind).

Curcuma/Hidden Lilies: Love, Rebirth, Devotion, Purity, Fertility, clear and sincere intentions. When I first saw these, my mind literally went Lilies = Lilia and with several of the meanings it makes you wonder doesn’t it? Especially as Rebirth seems to be a themes in Malleus and Lilia’s bouquet. (Sleeping curse maybe?) These also look like the flowers you see in the Live Action Sleeping Beauty 2 Movie, during the wedding. You know when Maleficent walks Aurora down the Aisle. So it could also be stressing the relationship Malleus has with Silver. Technically, all three of them. Can be used to treated stomach problems and this makes me laugh because Lilia had stomach problems in that one Firelit Sky event, hence another factor in representing Lilia.

Green Lisanthus: Appreciation, charm, charisma, and confidence. (Malleus in a flower basically 💕)

Cala Lily (Burgundy): Life’s right of passage, purity, holiness, faithfulness, courage and determination. (Silver and Sebek determination to protecting their Lord.)

Dracaena Fragans: meaning Dragon, financial and career success (he will make wonderful king), peace and good fortune.

Amaryllis: to sparkle, pride, strength, determination. These flowers blooms every year despite looking frail and it doesn’t take much to have them grow year after year. An interesting story is about a maiden who fell in love with a cold hearted man. She pierced her heart with a gold arrow and visited his cottage. After 30 days, her droplets of blood became beautiful flowers and the man fell in love with her and she was healed. Another type of Amaryllis is the cluster ones, we know it as the spider lilies. Common ones are the red spider lilies which is basically a red flag because it usually means death and last goodbye. This could symbolize the long life Malleus has ahead of him as well. White Amaryllis means beauty, devotion, and love. In addition, White Amaryllis symbolizes children and the innocence that comes from them. It reminds me of the story that Malleus told MC about how he just wanted to belong and had a tantrum that led to the castle becoming frozen in ice. Lilia was the only one who stepped forward and helped him and it implies that's how Malleus ended up loving ice cream. (My heeearrrttt) Also, the other story of how Lilia had his hair burned because baby malleus blew fire too lolol.

Houseleeks/Succulent: Always Living, enduring and timeless love, forever, does not change, Will live in harsh environments (My heart damnit, my heart).

Elderberry/Elder: inner strength, courage, calm fears, resilience, joy, protection from evil, prolong life, and peaceful sleep. “Eld” can also mean fire.

Olives: friendship and reconciliation, cleansing and healing, light, victory and richness, and above all, a sign of peace. (I’m not crying, you are!).

Hypericum Berries: symbol of peace, protection, rebirth

Acai Palm: Nutritious, growth in wilderness.

Thistle: Pain, aggressiveness, pride, and Protection.

Cordylines: Added to flowers to add emphasize to other flowers meanings, good luck, and fortune. Often it is confused with Dracaena.

Random Fact: Anniversaries could also be considered, since its the 3rd bdays for all the boys, their flower will be Sunflower: strength be well, happiness, male healing, confidence, self-esteem, assertiveness. Sounds just like them, doesn’t it?

Credit: Thank you to Lala (@/mobagehellocal) for her help as always. Please go talk flowers with her too. We love talking about them. 🌺🌻

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littleoanh · 1 year

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i strongly believe that ran is not the playboy type. he may be in a gang but he is the type of guy that is stick to one and only loved his childhood sweetheart. not all knows about this and girls still keep on throwing themselves to him but he just woosh them away! can u write something about this please please albie 🥹

A/N: Oh I fully and wholeheartedly agree with you! Ran is definitely not a playboy (but I still read fics when he is) in my opinion.

He’s a pretty boy who cares about his beauty sleep, hates staying out late, and it’s too much effort to hide infidelity. Ran is the type of guy who sticks to one person once his heart is captured. Fortunately for him, the one who captured his heart is you, his childhood sweetheart. You have always been by his side since he took over Roppongi with Rin. He always accepts your scolding (more like he doesn’t feel like arguing or thinks if you let it out you’ll feel better) when he gets reckless in his fights. Also, you have the special privilege to play with his hair.

Ran attracts all genders no matter where he goes, eyes are always drawn to him and he’s used to it. His whimsical and charming personality cause a misconception about his dating life. People always assume he goes through relationships like changing clothes. He finds this quite amusing and brushes it off because he doesn’t care what other people think. However, if they dare say or do something about you it’s a completely different story. You are one of the most important people in his life.

“You want your usual order?” Ran asks you, he has a free day and wants to take you out on a date at your favorite cafe. You smile and nod, he tells you to find a seat and he’ll order for the both of you. On the way to the cash register, everyone is flocking towards him like a moth to a flame. They completely ignored your existence and did anything to win his affection. This sometimes happens on your dates with him but it doesn’t exactly make you feel good.

However it instantly changes when you hear a loud smack, Ran slap a girl’s hand away from him. His lilac eyes narrow and an unusual scowl appears on his lips, “Don’t touch me.” He coldly warns all of them and they step aside. Once he paid for your orders and brought the tray to your table. You can practically feel the intimidating stares stabbing your back, Ran picks up on your uncomfortableness. “What are you staring at?” He glares at those who dare make you feel this way and discreetly shows his baton and they stop.

On the way to your next date spot, a girl rudely stands in your way with an upset expression. “Is this your significant other?” She looks at Ran as though she is the victim. Ran holds your hand firmly while disinterestedly staring at her.

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” He doesn’t care how apathetically he sounded as she runs off. Ran focuses his attention on you, taking your hand and placing warm and tender kisses on your knuckles. “They got nothing on you, baby.” Reassuring his love for you is genuine and there is no one else he needs besides you.

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fresh-new-yoik-watah · 1 year

Text

Seashells I See

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

AN: hiii this is my first time writing in literal years 😭😭 I hope you guys like it, and please let me know any improvement tips !

summary: reader is smitten. just can’t help it lol. neteyam asks reader to put shells in his hair

warnings: none. just fluff. maybe angst if you squint

word count: 1,071

___________________________

Weeks had passed since Toruk Makto and his family arrived on Awa’atlu, weeks since you first laid eyes on his eldest son. You remember it just as yesterday, his amber eyes, his sapphire skin. He was beautiful. Oh how you felt you could get lost in him forever. And the time spent together in those weeks did nothing to lessen the feeling. You had believed it was simply your curiosity engulfed in the mystery, that once satisfied, you’d be able to again sleep at night. But you were a moth drawn to a flame; every moment you tried to pull away, there he was shining brighter and you found yourself unable to escape. It didn’t help that you had to see him everyday, helping teach him and his siblings the ways of your people. But that was duty, obligation. It was the interactions outside of lessons that made your yearning grow.

He was somehow everywhere. No matter where you went, he would appear. Not that you opposed his company, it was quite comforting. His aura was soothing; you felt a sense of stillness around him, as if everything was right and perfectly in place. It was an addicting feeling; one you wanted more of, to drink it all up. But at the same time, you wanted to push down how he was making you feel. It made you lose focus. The overconsumption of him in your thoughts. And it was incredibly frustrating. But you couldn’t turn him away no matter how hard you tried. So you found yourself with Toruk Makto’s son more often than not. Outside of lessons he would join you in the water while you fed your ilu. Sometimes you would let him feed her. You would end up sitting together at feasts, much to your mother’s disapproval. You’d force him to try all the foods and laugh when he tried to hide his distaste, assuring him it was okay to not like it, as you yourself weren’t fond of some of the foods either. You convinced him to sneak out most nights. You would show him the reef, swim, and talk for hours, enjoying the solitude night brought you both.

Tonight was no different; you both swam and searched for shells while he told you about the troubles his younger brother would find himself in. You enjoyed his stories, but you could see the pain in his eyes when telling them, the mourning of his home and his life. It was not something you could imagine, having to become a stranger to yourself and your people. You smiled softly as he continued talking while you started sorting through your findings in the sand.

“I think I like this one best,” Neteyam pulled a shell from your pile, holding it out for you to see. It was small, rounded, and slightly chipped with lines of orange and white blending into each other.

You hummed, approving of his pick.

“I have yet to ask, what do you do with all of them?”

You paused to look up at him. “It depends. I make things like bracelets, arm bands, necklaces. I like to braid some into my hair. I give some to mother and Tsireya. They like the bigger ones.”

“I’ve noticed the ones in your hair. They’re beautiful,” he reached over to lightly trace the shells that adorned one of your braids.

Your cheeks flushed as you hid your face away, smiling. “Thank you.”

There was silence. Neteyam’s eyes briefly fogged over, lost in thought.

“Could you braid some in mine?”

You were shocked by the request. It was something so small but grand at the same time. Something intimate. You could feel your heartbeat increase, beating against your chest as you struggled to form your words.

“Of course,” the corners of your eyes creased as you smiled at him.

You crawled over and gently turned his body so that his hair would be accessible to you. You started undoing one of his braids, noticing the difference in hair textures right away in comparison to yours. It was surprisingly fine. It wasn’t quite silky, but smooth enough to unravel and fall into your hands, unlike yours that would stay in whatever shape it was formed in. You could smell the seawater, but there was an undertone of musk and dew. The forest. The ocean couldn’t quite wash it all away.

You picked up the shell he chose earlier along with some other small ones and started separating the hair to begin braiding.

It was silent as you worked. The only sounds were Neteyam’s soft breathing and the rushing of the sea, things you could listen to forever.

“I hope you can return home one day.”

“You want me gone that bad?” You knew he was teasing, trying to lighten the subject.

You stopped braiding and moved to face him, sand sticking to your legs.

“I know you miss it. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice.“

He sighed, “I do like it here,” he treaded his words carefully, worrying he might offend you. “It’s just not quite the same.”

You reach for his hand, grasping it in yours. The size difference was noticeable as his fingers went past your own. You could feel the calluses and small scars that littered his skin. “There will always be a home here for you, even if you go back.”

“I don’t think your mom would like that,” he flashed a grin at you and you couldn’t help but smile back with a small laugh.

“You have shells in your hair, she won’t like knowing I braided them.”

You both sat, just enjoying the bittersweet and each other’s presence. Neteyam missed the forest, but he misses it a little less knowing if they never left, he wouldn’t have known you, and that was something he could not live without.

He turned to look at you, amber eyes staring into blue. He brushed his hand against your cheek, cupping it gently. “I am happy to have met you. Ewya has blessed me with knowing you.”

You took in the bioluminescent dots that freckled his face. He was beautiful. As beautiful as when you first saw him. And despite it selfish, you were happy he was here and hoped he would stay for just a while longer. Just so that you could hold on to your Neteyam.

#neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #neteyam avatar #neteyam x metkayina!reader #avatar imagine #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar x reader #fnyw

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

Note

Please tell us you’ll do a part 2 for your head canon about Leon’s girlfriend finding out about Ada and Claire. Surely he wouldn’t just let her run off like that if he loves her.

All you need to know is that while I was writing this part, I listened to "I Love How You Lie" - Eminem feat. Rihanna. At least twenty times. Maybe more.

There is no physical violence here, but you can see a broken Lеon when his girlfriend left for TWO months without explanation. Fuck knows why Tumbler gave me some character restrictions in the last post, but out of fear I shortened some part of the text. (And this time there were no such gifts)

Tornado meets volcano.

So, a few people asked for the second part and I translated it as far as I could into English. Enjoy it if you can.

I like this text. I consider this one of my best works (I think it looks much better on the original).

If you need a translation of the third part, then let me know. Because of the fucking restriction, I'm not sure it's worth putting this whole story out.

As Cersei Lannister once said, "Love is poison. Yes, it is sweet, but it kills no worse than any other".

Because of one man, you have no desire to go out into the daylight, there is no reason to smile or laugh. The realization that for Leon you were nothing more than a beautiful doll still makes the heart bleed and quietly cry into the pillow looking for salvation in the night while everyone is sleeping.

It seems that there will be no end to this pain, and your hero turned out to be the main villain in your story, because of which you suffer. You allowed yourself to be deceived, you allowed yourself to be played with. You're the one who let a stranger become someone close. You're the one who let Leon rip out his heart, leaving a gaping wound that's slowly rotting away.

Nevertheless, you still miss his warm, slightly rough hands at night, who hugged you tightly, hugging you on cool nights. Now this whole stupid story reminds of how the moth flew into the light and eventually burned to the ground, so that only ashes remained of it. The truth is that the fire is Leon, and you are a stupid moth that has gone out. Although now, looking at the night sky, pressing your knees to your stomach, hugging yourself tightly, despite the great loss, you hope one day to start shining brighter than comets again.

Carey called last week, telling the latest news and gossip, not forgetting to mention your boyfriend who came to college looking for you, but she lied to him saying she didn't know where you were and where you disappeared. Leon hardly believed it, but he was not a man who beat the truth out of others. At least not from stupid students. But your happiness is that he did not know where your parents' house was, which means that in any case his search will not be successful.

You're very happy about it. Here you allow yourself to walk through the fields, remembering your youth and go with your father to the forest, just like in childhood jumping on the biggest stones. In the evening, the old man plays guitar to you and your mother while you and her clean up the dishes after a hearty dinner. Here at home, your wounds don't ache so much from the pain, and you look with laughter at the childhood photos taken by your mother in Calcutta, when you wrapped yourself in someone's sari trying to repeat the movements of Indian dancers. Flipping through the pages, you came across a photo with your fifth birthday, where you joyfully got dirty with a birthday cake.

And while your parents were laughing, you suddenly remembered that for some reason Leon didn't have more than one child's photo. Then, for some reason, he still said that his parents died quite early, but it was a sore subject that the two of you never touched on with him again. But he really liked to hear about your childhood adventures.

So you thought…

You so wanted to escape from the noisy city, away from Leon, and now involuntarily the soul is drawn to him. Although it doesn't make sense to dream about a summer together anymore. You had a wonderful, romantic love. You left Leon your dream of living together, but he never touched on the topic of future family with you.

It was really funny. Your father still doesn't like your first high school crush, even though you were fifteen and there was nothing between you and this guy but a chaste kiss on the cheek, this guy was forever blacklisted by your father. To make him think about Leon, who was twelve years older? Most likely, he would have tried to shoot him with his hunting rifle.

All the things, books, clothes, cosmetics, even the phone - everything is left with Leon and you will have to come back for them anyway. However, the mere thought of the collision of these sapphire eyes makes, the body goosebumps. You can lick your wounds at home, but there…all the scabs will open up again if only he touches you. If he suddenly says that Ada does not matter to him, however, by that smile and the compact in his bedside table, you realized that she would always be in the first place for him.

I wonder how long he's been looking for you? You called your friend because you wanted to clarify (and once again slash at the heart with a sharp knife of truth) whether Leon appeared in college or tried to reach you through friends, but the truth is cruel: he wasn't looking for you. Of course, it was probably stupid to worry, but you hoped that you meant something to him at least a little.

Leon has become your sweet poison.

Somehow, all thoughts returned to him alone. You are ready to fall into the abyss after him, get a hundred bullets instead of him, but it was his bullet that killed you.

Therefore, no matter how much you love him, the mind, and not the remnants of feelings, tells you a reasonable "Let him go." This is what needs to be done, and it will be the right thing to do.

Unfortunately, Leon is not the hero of Tolkien's beautiful story. He is not Beren, and you are not his Luthien. Funny comparison… But this is an analgesic balm, so you can stand firmly at the door of the apartment from which you escaped a little more than two months ago.

However, uncertainty again knocked down your legs at the very last minute, turning you into a mess with swollen red eyes, drowning in a puddle of your own tears. But to hell with it! You weren't tempted to listen to his voice or reread old messages, so why the hell are all these fucking feelings coming back out?! The cleaner handed you the keys and you exhaled with relief, hoping that you would have time to pick up all the things before Leon returned and then the need for an explanation would disappear by itself.

You will simply disappear from his life. He will cherish his love for Ada Wong or find someone who will not mind being a replacement for this irreplaceable woman.

But you cross the threshold of the house, leaving the keys on the bedside table, intending to finish it as soon as possible. This person is not capable of loving you, and by and large your days together are numbered. This is what you repeat to yourself, pulling out of the closet a large suitcase and a bag, alternately putting your things there.

Yes, you notice a few bottles of alcohol in the kitchen, a mess and your phone. Leon unlocked it, and you think that maybe he decided to check your correspondence or recent calls, but he definitely didn't find anything "criminal". Because Ada Wong didn't write to you.

Without wasting precious time, you continue packing, still taking the phone and putting it in your coat pocket. Your blouses, dresses, underwear…actually, you wouldn't mind quickly changing into more comfortable clothes than the one you took from home. But still discarding the thought of changing clothes, you zipped up suitcase, grabbing an empty bag with her free hand to put all the cosmetics there. You turn around to go to the dressing table and…freeze.

Leon.

He tricked you. He wasn't on your side. Burn it with fire, but he will not see you in tears. You won't stay with him and let him tear you to pieces. You are not the heroine of Lana Del Rey's music video…

But Leon was just silently watching your hurried movements. With those deep bruises under his eyes and a faraway look. He looked so exhausted that you wanted to go up to him and kiss him almost on a reflex level, but your brain was still saying "let him go! Save the remnants of your poor heart!"

You thought one thing, and Leon did not understand why you poured caustic poison on him in this way, running away without explaining anything. Smouldering like a coal, he was still just glad to see you alive and unharmed. And yet the sandcastle that he was building with you was now being destroyed on his hands.

The only thing Leon knows is that if he loses you, he will lose his only home.

"I can't…I'm leaving you," you whispered, still fiddling with the strap of the bag, watching the light blue eyes darken in an instant.

"What do you mean?" - Leon takes the bag out of your hands, throwing it on the bed at the same time looking strangely at the already packed suitcase. - "Baby, if you've been wanting to tell me something for a long time, then you should have done it, and not run the devil knows where without money and a phone. What was I supposed to think? Where have you been? You haven't been to college for two months!"

My God, your body is screaming again, as it did then: "Run." Although it was a lie. Leon's voice remains even, calm… and gentle. Just don't run away from him. His hand gently grabs your palm, warming it, forcing the blood to circulate through your veins. He's been so damn worried, missed you so much, that he seriously thinks he'd rather tie you to a bed and set the fucking house on fire than let you leave.

"I'm not her. But I'm not a fucking piece of cake that you can take whenever you see fit. I loved you, but I don't want to see you anymore. I don't want to talk to you and know you."

The good question is, who is going to hurt who now? Some part of you wants to cause him at least a fraction of the pain that you experienced, while Leon becomes a shadow of his former self in front of your eyes from these words. You fucking promised him! Be with him!

"I'm not Ada Wong. I'm not a mysterious spy. But I'm not your toy either, Leon. I'm the fucking person whose feelings you played with! When I loved you so much that it went beyond sanity, you loved a completely different woman!"

You're crying, turning away from him to grab the remnants of things and throw them into a fucking bag and run far, far away to start all over again. Away from Leon and his woman in red. The main thing is that he does not look at you with that sad, tired look, otherwise you will not stand it and burst into tears out loud. Do you want to yell at him when he asks one simple question, "Is it because of Ada? Is she the reason you left?"

But you turn around abruptly.

"No. The reason is you, not her. You hurt me. Not Ada. She's the part of you that you'll never let go of. "

This quote and the compact should be enough for him to understand. But it drives to lose your mind. Your love melts when you look at him and listen to his tacit consent. He would never let this woman go. And you still have some remnants of pride. "Maybe you're right." - This is what finally breaks your love. Next to him, you become quieter, smaller…Leon won another round, and you lost to him. Your heartbeat slows down, but his words finally force you not to let him touch you.

"Good" - Your lips whispered it so simply. As if it doesn't hurt at all. "I'm leaving."

"Don't!" - Almost a plea, but you jump away from Leon when he grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you to him. Despite how much you missed him, now in order to save yourself, your brain began to make a monster out of him. "I won't let you go. I love you, you know that! That should be enough!"

"But it's not enough! You love her and you will always choose her from the two of us. I'm not coming back to you anymore. I'm NOT her replacement! I won't fall into these nets anymore!

This is your end.

The last point. You don't know how to continue to believe in better days, but it's time to part. It's time to leave and forget this feeling. You resist when Leon tries to hold you to him. This is what tears apart. You just loved him. Your emotions are in a mess, you don't even realize right away that you are choking on the howl of that same beaten dog. How can you love and hate him at the same time?

That's all. Leave. Run. But you fall to your knees because you can't do anything against him! You love him so much! Whether he's a monster or a scoundrel. What should you do? It shouldn't be like that at all.

"Angel, believe me! It has not been as important as it used to be for a long time. I love you. That message doesn't mean anything!" - His hands hold you tightly by the waist, not allowing you to leave. He also loves you no less than you love him. Why didn't you just tell him what was bothering you? - "You are my love."

He's fucking lying. He wasn't even looking for you.

"Let me go!" - You scream, remembering all the nights with him without sleep, when everything was fine. You want to believe in this fucking lie, but in order to escape, you grab the very last thread, strike a fatal blow: "I don't love you anymore!"

It was painful. Leon feels a ringing in his ears and wants to loosen his grip at the last second, but for some reason he leans against the top of your head, still hoping that you are lying.

"It is not true." You both knew that. You heard only a pulse pounding and one boundless silence. You would be ashamed to look at yourself in the mirror, but Leon turns you over to face him, wiping the wet tracks of tears on his swollen cheeks with his thumbs. - "I don't believe it. Princess, if you would tell me…I was going crazy. You ran away without even explaining anything. Do you really believe that I could hurt you? I love you, not her. That's all you need to know. I will always choose you."

"I want to leave." Leon nods negatively, feeling a lump in his throat, but you want to leave him. You've already decided everything. Even for the first time, only now he continues to deprive you of strength, being your biggest weakness. Even if you feel calm right now, burying your nose in his neck, you have to do it.

"Please don't say that…"

"But it's true!"

Leon's hands close around your waist as he kisses your temple. He has found you and right now he is holding you in his arms not so that you will leave. Not so that everything that you both have been building for so long will collapse. He doesn't need tears to hurt. He needs you.

And again a single tear falls from your eyelashes. Why is he lying to your face? Why did you become his victim? But you can't order your heart and you can't lie to your soul - you want your love for him to disappear like a bird in the sky, what a pity that miracles don't happen.

You are bound by these hands and absolutely unarmed. Hell, you can't even leave as beautifully as Ada always does.

"You don't want that, I know. Please baby…We can talk about it. Look at me." - You're doing it. Idiot. You look at him when his gentle touches become rough, as long as you just don't look away. Unlikely you could have turned your head even a couple of degrees. - "It's all good."

It would be better if you died now. There is no doubt in your sincere love… he will always come back to her. Therefore, not a damn thing is all right! You're not okay! It's you who are suffering from agony, while he just needs the warmth of a young body.

This is what you shout at him, pushing him away from you, getting to your feet, grabbing a suitcase. You don't care about anything anymore! You're running away forever. Leon's reaction, however, is faster than yours, and he manages to intercept you faster than you get to the open door, throwing the damn suitcase aside.

You are probably the unluckiest girl.

A familiar record of Leon's promises that he loves you. He pinned you against the wall, hanging like a mighty rock, cutting off escape routes. At this moment, you do not have enough air, as if the breathing taps have been blocked.

"Princess…" - You smile bitterly. A princess who was banished from her own kingdom and from his heart. You turn from a princess into a prisoner. It was he who left you a deep crater instead of a heart. -"You're not her, but that's why I'm with you. I don't love you for your body. If I wanted a beautiful girl for the night, then this relationship would never have happened."

"Please go" - The request hidden from the lips responds with a dull pain inside Leon. Taking a step towards you, he bumps into an obstacle from your hands that have fallen on his chest. - "I don't want to be second place anymore."

All Leon is thinking about at this very second, while you are tearing his skin and flesh getting to his heart in shreds, which bastard drove this thought into your head?

You're the reason he's still alive. How can you want to leave him after he has allowed you to become a part of his life? He's been looking for you these fucking two months! Sometimes, in a frenzy, I rushed after every passerby thinking that it was you. You are his most beloved person, so how can you leave him?

Why has everything changed so much? Because of that stupid message from Ada and the compact, which he hadn't thought about for a long time. He just threw it away and forgot, not thinking that you can find it, but if you find it…Why didn't you just ask him about it?! He would have gotten rid of this item in front of you!

You have to stay. But you had different points of view on the situation.

He couldn't fucking sleep in a shared bed, thinking about where you were and who you were with. What if you had actually been killed in an alley somewhere? But the way your friend calmly said that he allegedly knew nothing about your whereabouts made him calm down, because he was sure that this girl was not one of those who are in the dark. So you were either with her or at least safe.

The thought of another man who could touch you the way he touched you turned him inside out. You couldn't run off to another guy to hurt him even more. That's not your style.

"You always came first." - It's true, but why the hell do you think it's a lie? How can you think that he has someone else?! What the fuck is wrong with you? - "Since came into my life. All I ever wanted was you."

Leon wants this whole two-month performance to be a fucking manipulation. God, he'll forgive you for your stupidity. He will strip you naked, hold you close and tell you that he loves you very much. The main thing is not to leave. He'll take you wherever you want, just stay with him. Don't lie to him that you don't love him!

"I don't believe you." - The end. - "You're right, my heart is full of blind love for you, but enough of this torment. My biggest mistake is to think that you loved me too. I'm tired of this pain, and if I stay here, it will kill me once. I want to be happy. But to become one of them, you don't have to be in my life! Аlthough I love the way you lie."

"Don't say that!" - Leon grabbed you, hugging you to him, which is why the familiar smell of cologne hit you in the nose, which made you want to close your eyes, enjoying it. You become a disassembled puzzle in his hands again. - "I've never lied to you! Not a single day. Princess, Ada was an important part of my life. However, what I feel for her is nothing compared to what I felt for you. Believe in it."

And that's what you want. It seems that only one step separates you from the possibility of leaving. You pressed against his shoulder-so strong, warm, safe, while his palm covered the back of your head.

So weak. Grabbed him by the back, giving a spark of hope that you will stay. Instilling in him the hope that now he will calm you down and you will put on these shackles again when he puts you on the bed and makes love sex to you.

You thought it would be easier to do.

"That's it. It's all good. I'm here with you. You're with me." - Leon's voice is shaking. If you believe him now… remember the compact in his bedside table. Push him away! Save yourself! - "I love you."

He is the one who kisses your tears from your cheeks and nose. He holds your neck, so it seems he can squeeze it until it crunches in order to end your life, but Leon just strokes the skin with his thumb.

Leon's heartbeat slows down, returning to a normal rhythm. And you are his little favorite toy, which he takes away from the door, confident that everything is in the past. Sure he convinced you. And you take six whole steps forward with him, glancing at the suitcase he threw.

Your pulse is pounding in your temples. If you stay, then only God will know how much loneliness you can endure. Leon may not be cheating on you physically, but his thoughts will always be with the woman in red. With Ada. He will always come back to her.

If you stay, you will lose yourself forever. You suddenly thought that one day you would want children, but Leon's work does not imply their presence. Then even they won't be your outlet. And one day, the best solution would be to just kill yourself. Poison, knife, rope… you will be so broken by him that you will absolutely not care.

You're leaving. Point.

Don't forget about all the happy moments that he gave you, but don't you dare let him destroy you!

If you can't leave like Ada, then do it your way. Even if it looks ugly and pathetic. You may look like a beaten dog, but you will be ALIVE.

Someday this day will be just a nightmare from which you could wake up. Just find a little strength in yourself to take the handle of the suitcase and… leave.

Then you bend down, grab the handle and lift your luggage off the floor as Leon takes a few small steps away from you, intending to remove the empty bottles and finally throw Ada's compact away. He knows that you picked up the suitcase and for ten whole seconds was sure that you just want to put things back in their places.

So scary.

Both him and you.

"Sorry." - You exhale. It's so complicated. Either God is such a masochist, or you yourself. Leon looks at you and doesn't believe you. Some strange smile appears on his lips mixed with despair.

"Sweetheart, wait."

"Goodbye Leon"

And you're really leaving him.

You run out of the apartment like the first time, leaving him alone. But you won't come back.

Your days together were numbered.

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