irony designs

Ransom pushed into Canon

Where Ransom is pushed into Canon, the exact same place and moment that Canon!Rosinante was about to be killed.

So I did some editing to the format, and I wrote everything that’s from Rosinante’s POV (AKA below the line-break). The lovely Anon wrote the stuff from Ransom’s POV. 

This was great fun, I’m glad you’ve let me add to it.

There is something extremely wrong with the situation happening in front of him.

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wanderinggemazurite-deactivated  asked:

Alright, I wanted to think of some more interesting/harder gems through time requests: Pre-colonial America, 300s Arabia, and late 1800s Mexico. Hope you have fun with this one! :D

I chose not to go with 300s, but recent fashion because those flowy dresses called me.

this is not so much 1800 but typical dresses. This was such a fun thing to do!

miserere (part one)

Pairing: Levi/Eren

Rating: Mature

Summary: Ereri royalty!AU where painter!Levi is commissioned by the king to paint a picture of the prince!Eren. Inspired by this piece.

A/N: Was reminded of this fic by theheichouwesawthatday. Other parts will come as inspiration strikes, but please enjoy!


He was beautiful. A true heir to the throne in the most aesthetic of aspects. Strong, determined, courageous. The people couldn’t have asked for anyone better to fill the shoes of the aging king.

And Levi loved him.

Had from the moment his highness called him into the study to meet with his newest subject. He had been warned of this one, but still took the job nonetheless. Who was he to deny the king a favor? The pay was handsome, and the notoriety that came with capturing the young prince of Shinganshina was nothing to scoff at.

Taming the prince was another matter entirely.

“You make the funniest faces,” his young majesty said during a session. To this Levi glanced up, mind already cast away from the brush strokes lining the canvas. The prince was smiling, pose a complete disaster as he sprawled outwards on the small couch. The boy would never learn.

But Levi could never find it in himself to get angry. That smile cured all ailments, including his never ending frustrations.

“Am I a jester or an artist, your majesty?” His eyes roamed up the prince’s lithe frame, full of soft lines that begged for a canvas to capture them. Levi only hoped he would look as magnificent transferred to the linen.

“Considering your wit, I’d dare to say both.” His own lip twitched, because he’d forgotten how sharp the prince could be. “And I told you, call me Eren.” And just like that, Levi’s smile twisted back into that deep line the prince always claimed to hate so much.

His eyes flashed back to the unfinished canvas, now looking a lot more like painted sin beneath the weight of his affections. Inappropriate was an understatement, and if the king were to find him addressing his son in such manner then it would surely call for Levi’s head.

“May we continue, your majesty?” There was the unsaid inevitability hanging onto Levi’s words, as he knew the whispers of the king’s martial law could not have evaded the ears of his own son.

“Do I need to order it?” And the prince had him pinned, the spoilt child that he was. Levi regarded him with a blank face, lest he gave away the tumultuous storm brewing inside his chest. Threatening to rip away his heart along with everything he held dear. It was unfair, and he was positive that the young majesty knew it.

“You would see me thrown to the wolves, your majesty?” Except the wolves would be far kinder than the wrath of an angered king. It was already such a fine line he was walking, the smallest nudge sending him over the edge into a forsaken territory of no noble return. But even still, his words could not equal his cold facade, breaking unevenly as they crossed his lips.

“You think me ruthless.” It wasn’t a question, more like a scornful demand hidden under the pretense of everything the king was. Everything his young majesty yearned to not become.

“I think you naive.” Hands turned into fists, knuckles white in apparent anger. This is what they had warned him about, this quick to temper rage that left all the nobles talking about their doomed future should the prince take the crown. Levi thought they were wrong. Could tell that this boy, this man, would make a fine king someday. Even as the prince locked his jaw and narrowed his eyes, Levi still held onto this one belief.

“You forget that I may be my father’s son, but I am not my father, artist.”

The prince turned on his heel, leaving Levi alone in an empty study. It was only then that he allowed for his frustrations to be shown, gritting his teeth and running messy fingers through his hair. Brushes dropped to the ground, forgotten as Levi pressed a palm to the center of his forehead. Eyes wandered back to the unfinished canvas, filled with the intricate dark lines of a remarkable boy. It mocked him, painting the prince in such a light that the beauty leapt from the linen. Taunting him with what he knew he couldn’t have. His own design. The irony was thick.

“Don’t be discouraged, sir. His majesty is quite a handful sometimes.” The maid was standing in the doorway, mouth pulled into a small smile as she regarded him. “But he has a good heart.” She offered him one last smirk before disappearing beyond the door frame.

His gaze lingered there, captured by a sudden emptiness in the open entrance, by the words pressed against his tongue. Taming the prince who was already tamed. Domesticated by a life underneath a tyrant and fueled by the anger injustices had sought within him. So very misunderstood. Naive as Levi called him, and rightfully so. Standing in the light in a world full of shadows.

Levi had watched him smile as the sunlight came trickling in through the curtain laden windows. Watched and wondered how the prince was able to still find any delights in this world of rich men and poor sorrows. Bright and full of a lost man’s hope. He was beautiful.

And Levi loved him.