#I’ve gotten back into embroidery because I have nothing else to do

[justjaymi]

I’m in desperate need of new shows to watch!! I’ve been permanently off work sick for 7 weeks now (!!!) and I’ve rewatched Good Omens, and finished Our Flag Means Death and Prodigal Son, as well as many many many more. I love anything with Michael Sheen/David Tennant, and anything a bit fruity (and everything else, to be honest), but I just need the recommendations.

Please help.

[write-r-die]

By Tomorrow - Part 13

Masterlist

A/N: Here we go, another chapter! I have the climax and ending of this story all planned out, I just need to figure out how to get there. Don't worry though, this isn't ending any time soon. Thank you all for reading!

Henry was relieved that made it back to the cottage before Sybil did. He wasn’t sure what he would say to her yet, and he would need the headstart preparing the bath for her. It was important to him that he do this for her and do it properly.

Henry had just finished when Sybil swung the door open and yelped in surprise, clutching a hand to her chest. “Oh. Forgive me. I did not think you would be here.” She struggled to regain her breath, her hand still pressed against her chest as if to keep her heart from pounding too hard.

“Does that disappoint you?”

“What? No, of course not. This is your house as much as mine – more so, actually, considering you’re part of the clan by birth. I simply wasn’t expecting you. Expecting you here and, I mean. I thought everyone would be gone at least one night hunting that stag, and you know how easily I get surprised.” Sybil finally ran out of words and concentrated on gnawing the dry skin from her lips and looking anywhere but at her husband. Surely there was more she could say to fill this awful silence.

She’d only come back to retrieve a piece of embroidery she wanted to show to Catherine, but Henry was now directly standing between her and it and she had no clue how she was to get around him, grab the garment, and slip back outside. So she lied.

“You know, I’ve quite forgotten what I came in here for, and you’re clearly preparing for a bath. I’m terribly sorry for interrupting. I’ll go back up to the keep so you –”

Henry said, “I thought we made progress. Getting accustomed to one another. To your life here. Has that been undone now?” 

The air seemed to go out of her. “No,”  she said unconvincingly. A moment later she added, “It’s something else to get accustomed to.”

It was his turn to eye her. Something was wrong – something more than their disastrous coupling – but he couldn’t guess what it was. “Is something else the matter?”

“No,” she said again.

Henry shut his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to cast off his frustration. “I can’t fix what troubles you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

It took everything in Henry’s power not to slam his head against the wall. “Come closer, then, if nothing is wrong.”

She took a single step in his direction.

For the love of God. 

He took another deep breath. “Please come here.” 

There. He said it. He said please. And he’d  apologized to her after bedding her, too. He could feel his masculinity slipping through his fingers. 

He took yet another deep breath and softened his face as she stepped up to him; he meant to set her at ease, not add to her troubles. Then he wordlessly held out the lavender sprigs. 

Sybil carefully took them from him.

“Lavender?” she asked softly, staring down at his gift. She hardly noticed that she’d begun crying.

Henry nodded once, keeping his gaze on the dried flowers in her hands because he was too uncomfortable to meet her teary eyes.

“Thank you,” she managed, sniffling. “This is very kind.” She was surprised that he remembered her ever even mentioning lavender, and the fact that he’d actually gone out and gotten her some –

“If you don’t stop crying I’ll toss them in the fire.”

She smiled, her gaze still focused on the blooms; Henry’s throat constricted. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and grinned up at him. “I will stop crying then.” 

This was his apology for hurting her, for making her rush into something she clearly was not ready for, and it was the kindest apology she could have asked for. She had the urge to kiss him as she did whenever she wanted to thank him for something without words. But could she still do that?

He must have seen the trouble in her eyes. His voice was whisper-soft when he spoke. “The bath is for you, too. You alone, I mean. I don’t want you to think I expect anything after what we did. It will be as before: We will do only as much as you’re comfortable with.” 

He remained perfectly still as she rocked up on the balls over her feet to kiss his stubble-roughened cheek, and continued to remain still even after she returned to her feet.

She did not have to thank him aloud.

***

Henry took a seat outside the cottage near one of the windows to give Sybil privacy as she bathed. The linen curtain over it was drawn closed of course but he could hear her shuffling about. 

She hadn’t mentioned that she was supposed to spend the night with Catherine; honestly, she’d forgotten.

Henry leaned his head back against the wooden wall and had started to doze off when there was a yelp from within. 

“Sybil?” Henry called. 

She gasped in surprise, slapping her arms over her chest to shield herself despite the fact that she had no idea where his voice was coming from. “Henry?” 

“I’m outside by the window,” he explained. “I heard you make a noise; are you all right?”

“Oh. Oh yes I’m fine. I stubbed my toe on the edge of the bathtub.” Suspiciously, she added,  “You can’t see me through the window covering can you?”

“I haven’t looked. I just heard you.”

“Right. Yes. Well. Thank you for asking. I’m perfectly all right though. Just clumsy.” 

She climbed into the tub and settled herself in the water. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the lavender, and sighed contentedly. 

“Are you still out there?” she asked after a moment. 

“I can go elsewhere if you like,” he replied. “Leave you to yourself.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary – unless you would like some time to yourself, that is.”

She could almost hear him shrug. “I’m comfortable where I am.”

“Oh, yes, well, it is a lovely day after all. I’m sure Finn will be out with the horses until sunset. I think his father is with him – I hope so, at least. I know he’s the best rider in the clan, but Finn still worries me a bit. I saw him stand up on the back of a horse last week and I nearly fell over! You don’t do that, do you?”

He nearly smiled at her babbling. At least she was back to acting normally around him. “No, nott since I was very young.”

Sybil was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment.

“Henry?”

He grunted loudly to be sure she could hear him and know that he was listening.

“When you were young . . . who cared for you?” She wasn’t afraid that he would get angry with her for asking these questions; she just didn’t want to push him to discuss something he didn’t want to, especially when he was being so kind.

“Many people,” he said after a moment.

Arran’s wife, Clara, had adopted a somewhat maternal role. Her first child died a few months before Henry was born, and caring for her nephew was both a heartbreak and a comfort. It was many years before she had another child, but she was blessed with three at once. Any other woman giving birth to three children at once would likely have died, but she was delivered safely by the grace of God.

Her interest in Henry quickly waned once she had sons of her own to attend to. Henry remembered overhearing Clara’s arguments with Arran about his care. Husband and wife were not overly fond of each other in the best of times, and Clara’s rejection of Henry, whom Arran regarded as his son, only drove them further apart.

Clara was tending to her ailing father in the lowlands now, and likely would be for some time. Her brother, a fool by all accounts, would need her help when he eventually took over the clan – assuming their uncle, the dying laird’s younger brother, was not chosen to lead instead. 

Clara would stay with her family for as long as she could either way. She was happiest living separately from Arran. He was too good of a man to admit it, but he was relieved she was gone, too.

“Uncle Arran was very interested in my upbringing,” Henry continued. “Uncle Patrick, too, but he was more easily distracted.” There was a long pause. “My grandfather died shortly after my mother. Arran took on the responsibilities of laird, but he still spent an hour with me every day. So I’ve been told.”

Every day, despite the fact that Henry would not have known or cared at that age. Despite Arran’s avalanche of responsibilities, despite his wife’s resentment.

Sybil cleared her throat. Henry’s voice was too low, too thoughtful. She didn’t want him to get trapped in his thoughts. “I like Arran very much,” she said brightly. “He lets me talk for as long as I want.”

A wide smile broke on Henry’s face. “Is that your only criteria for liking someone?”

“Certainly the most important, but not the only one, no.”

“What are the other requirements, then?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I want to be sure I meet all of them.”

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “I already like you.”

It was silent for a moment. Sybil cursed herself for saying something so embarrassing, so stupid; Henry felt as if a weight had been lifted from him. She still liked him, even after their awful coupling. 

He would never admit it to himself, but he wanted her to do more than just like him; this was at least a start. 

He frowned in thought and asked, “Do you like many people?” 

Sybil was unfailingly friendly, but she seemed to have dealt with more than her fair share of unpleasant people in life. 

“I don’t like everyone but I don’t dislike anybody, either,” she said. “Except for Elizabeth and Lillian,” she amended. “They’re twins. And I’m not overly fond of Joan, either. Actually, I don’t particularly like any of my sisters now that I think about it, though I haven’t seen Madeleine and Demelza since they were sent to live at the convent years ago, so I can’t be sure if I would like them now but I think I would not. Does that make me an awful person, Henry?”

Henry wracked his brain for what she’d told him about her family but there was so much information she’d dumped on him and so many siblings to keep track of. She had . . . Six sisters? Seven? How was he ever to remember all their names?

“No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “Sisters are difficult, I think.” He wasn’t basing that statement on anything, as the only girl in his family, Catherine, was the best sister to Finn that anyone could possibly be. “What about your brothers?” 

She had seven or eight of those, if his math was right. He’d never be able to remember all of their names, either.

“I don’t mind them, more or less. I liked Garrett very much. Royston and Gilard are at terrible ages where all they want to do is wrestle and shout at each other and make the younger girls cry but I hope they’ll outgrow it.” She stopped to breathe. “Your cousins must have been a handful around their age, especially since they’re triplets, but they all seem to have fine heads on their shoulders now. I must get to know them better. Alistair is very quiet and William doesn’t speak English, but I actually think I know Hamish fairly well. I must better acquaint myself with your friends, too.”

“You must?” he repeated dubiously.

“Well I should, shouldn’t I? They’re important to you. The whole clan is. And everyone seems to think that you’ll be laird one day which means I will be lady, and a lady ought to know her people.” She received only silence in response; it unnerved her. “Have I said something wrong?”

Was she being too presumptuous about the laird-and-lady things? Did he not want her getting closer to other people – men, in particular – the way her father did not want his wife or mistresses to?

“No,” Henry finally said. “I’m only thinking.”

She swallowed hard. “What are you thinking about?”

You, he thought. But he didn’t say it aloud. 

“You’ve told me about your brothers and sisters,” he said, “what about your parents?”

“Oh. Well my mother seemed very tired all the time.” Sybil’s father said she was naturally weak, and the midwives were surprised she didn’t die in childbirth. “But after Samuel was born she caught a fever and did not recover.

“I like my stepmother though, I think. She doesn’t much like spending time with us children, even the older ones. I think she still misses her first husband, the twins’ natural father.” 

It was both very romantic and very sad. Sybil knew she was naive for wanting that same sort of endless love that not even death could blunt, but it meant she would be in pain when it inevitably ended, leaving either her or her partner heartbroken.

“And what about your father?” Henry finally asked.

“What about him?” 

Henry was surprised by her tone. It wasn’t rude or sharp, exactly, but it wasn’t as pleasant as usual.

Sybil shivered, her teeth chattering slightly. “Thank you for the bath, Henry. I appreciate it very much – I don’t want you to think that I don’t – but I’m quite cold now and I would like to get out but I don’t want to injure your feelings by doing so.”

“You won’t injure my feelings,” Henry assured her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“You may come in now,” Sybil said a few minutes later. “I’m decent.”

She was wearing one of her English gowns when he came in, not the plaids that the other clan members wore. “The plaids you gave me are in poor condition at the moment,” she explained, “and these gowns are easier to put on. I needn’t worry about getting the pleats right.”

She smelled lovely and inviting. Her cheeks were pink, her wet hair unbound. She had a blanket pulled around her shoulders like she’d just woken from a nap.

“The bath is still a bit warm,” she said. “I just get cold very easily. Which you already knew. And it seems cruel to make you bathe in freezing water after going to all the trouble of drawing a warm bath for me.” Usually an entire family would bathe in the same water, one after the other, since lugging and heating and filling a tub with water was such an arduous task.

Henry just nodded. He took a step toward the tub.

“I can wait outside like you did,” Sybil said quickly. “Or go up to the keep. Give you your privacy.”

“You don’t need to leave,” Henry said slowly. “I would like it if you would stay and talk with me more.”

Her breaths were shorter now, her lips parted slightly as if to make an excuse. She was afraid to be alone with him while he was undressed. And considering what happened last time she was with a man while he bathed . . .

“I . . .” Her throat was closing fast. 

“You’re free to go if you want. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable,” Henry said. “But I would also be happy if you stayed.” He added, “I told you, I don’t expect anything from you.” He was going to court her properly, he’d decided. He would earn his place beside her in bed.

She was still quiet. 

He took a deep breath. “Sybil, it doesn’t have to be any time soon, but . . . I would like another chance to take you to bed. To show you what it should be between us. How it will be.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. She kept her eyes on his chest, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Will you say something?”

“Not anytime soon . . .” she repeated to herself. “Henry, it still frightens me. I think it will for some time. But if you say it will be better, then I believe you.”

And then he broke another one of his rules, because he didn’t know how else to express how much he valued her trust. “Thank you.”

[hualianff]

Vampire/Human AU

(Slight NSFW, angst)

Thinking about vampire HC who owns a vampire-friendly bar with humans who apply as donors to supply fresh blood for vampires willing to pay the expensive prices. When a human with beautiful amber eyes, soft facial features, and blood that smells absolutely delectable, walks in, every vampire whips their heads towards the door. The human approaches one of the staff, YY, to inquire about becoming a donor. HC watches as the enticing morsel follows YY into a room to finalize his application.

Right after the human leaves thirty minutes later–YY probably having said it would take a few days to find him a match–HC pulls YY aside, demanding to have a look over the papers the new donor filled out. After a quick scan, HC shoves the papers back to YY with a click of his tongue,

“No need to find him a match. He’s mine.”

A human whose blood smells heavenly, who has never been bitten or even nipped by a vampire. HC wants to corrupt him. Ruin him.

The next night, HC has the human, XL, meet him in his personal feeding room. There’s a luxurious velvet couch to the side, a pristine glass table with fancy wine and glasses, and a king-sized bed with crimson silk laid upon the mattress.

HC, like most vampires, typically feeds while stimulating their donors. This can be done with something as simple as kissing or full-on intercourse. Not only does this relax the human’s nerves so they won’t tense up before being bitten, but the toxins injected into their system after being bitten feels incredibly euphoric, serving as a kind of aphrodisiac. Many humans donate their blood in this way for the sole reason of attaining this heightened sense of pleasure.

But as soon as XL enters the room in front of HC, his mind freezes as he sees the bed.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurts out, wide eyes panicked as he looks at the vampire. HC raises his eyebrow, unperturbed.

“We can work with that.”

XL gulps.

“I’ve also never kissed anyone.”

HC runs a tongue along his sharp fangs.

“Do you want to change that?” The vampire asks, walking up behind the human, pressing his chest against XL’s back. HC hears XL’s heart rate pick up at the proposition. It’s an unspoken yes, though XL also imperceptibly nods his head. He does not see HC’s lips spread into a vicious grin. However, XL does feel lips brush against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“Use your words, precious. Do you want to be kissed? Want to be touched, experience pleasure beyond comprehension?” HC murmurs, skimming his lips across XL’s nape. “I can fuck you too. Push into your little body as I sink my fangs into your neck. I’d place them right here-“ HC taps XL’s jugular, the human jerking to the side with a gasp. “-oh? So sensitive. All the better. I can make you feel so good.”

XL’s breath quickens, ever so slightly leaning back into HC’s tall frame. HC leans forward to catch a glimpse of those doe eyes regarding him with caution. Oh, how he wants to eat this human alive. HC turns XL around by his shoulders. He lowers his head to bump foreheads with XL, forcing the human to look into his red-tinged eyes.

“Is that a yes?”

XL blinks those doe eyes once, then twice.

“Yes.”

HC brings his hand up to brush a hair away from the human’s head.

“Wonderful.”

***

XL is at the point in his life when he lost everything. He chose to pursue a career outside of his parents’ embroidery business despite being expected to take over the shop after college. Abandoning college altogether, XL went off on his own to chase his dream to become a singer.

A few years later, where XL was provinces away from home, XL’s parents’ business had gone under, devastating them as they could no longer pay for their medical bills. Upon hearing the news, XL rushed back home to take care of them. It seemed they had kept their declining health conditions under wraps. They were too prideful to admit their weakening physical states; they also did not want to guilt XL into giving up on his ambitions to take care of them.

XL’s parents lasted one year before passing away, his father first due to prostate cancer, his mother one month later after succumbing to exhaustion and grief. XL lost their home along with the shop merely a week later, unable to pay off the debt. His parents had used up their savings for their medical expenses and XL had been scraping by as a musician for years. Additionally, there was no one he could confide in. He had lost contact with his friends as he moved from city to city, busking on streets, attempting to catch the attention of music labels.

XL was utterly alone. There were days when not even music could bring an ounce of comfort. However, music was the thing that kept him sane between the various side jobs he managed to pick up to keep him off the streets.

As if the fates decided XL had had enough bad luck for a lifetime, a CEO of a fairly well-known label offered him a business card after a busking session. It was JW of Capital Records who gave XL hope of achieving his dream. XL spent most of his late 20s under the label, training and practicing and producing. He had the chance to record a couple of singles and one mini-album–which he didn’t get to participate much in the production side–but other than that, XL didn’t make it far. He was tremendously overworked and yet, still discarded to the side.

Wondering why he wasn’t provided the opportunities other artists received to further their careers, XL scheduled a one-on-one meeting with the CEO to ask what he was lacking. JW had insisted he could give XL more opportunities if XL could offer something more than just his serene vocals and pretty face.

The unspoken suggestion that XL offer up his body pierced his heart with yet another stake. Overwhelming disappointment and betrayal crashed into XL, but perhaps he should have known better that the whole situation was too good to be true. XL vehemently rejected this idea, angering JW who eventually tore XL down to the point of a medical emergency that allowed him to leave the agency without repercussions.

At age thirty-two, XL was left with no family, mental and physical trauma, and a dying will. Ironically enough, the song lyrics he’d written after experiencing so much loss were the closest thing to making music he’d gotten. But in the end, XL still felt like a failure.

Now in Xi’an, XL was left with limited options to earn money for rent. He already worked two part-time jobs in addition to writing music—though even time set aside for this has dwindled.

One night, as XL was walking home after closing up the convenience store, he saw the neon lights of the sign “Ghost City.” He’s heard many things about this club and is no stranger to the existence of nonhuman creatures roaming amongst human society. After hours of research, XL decided to apply to become a blood donor. It’s not like he had a better option that paid more anyway.

XL’s hope to somehow redeem his past actions has all but fizzled out. He doesn’t expect a vampire like HC to care about his comfort or consent when feeding, though HC still prioritizes these things for some reason.

XL has never looked at his body and thought about the best ways to pleasure himself. HC shows him how. HC caresses and kisses XL like he’s worth being handled with care; HC also invades XL’s body as a threat to break it, broadcasting a vampire’s strength, speed, and endurance in the bedroom.

XL can go as far as to say he even looks forward to his time with HC. In between a busy work life and dealing with people who would rather look the other way than give him the time of day, XL’s mind and body steadily weaken.

It starts with memory loss, where XL can’t clearly remember the conversations he’d had the day before. One of the reasons this develops is because he goes through many days without having anyone to tell about his day. It’s like the life XL lives is so insignificant, nothing about it is worth remembering.

Then, it’s the lack of eating. Most of XL’s money goes towards rent, essentials, and groceries. But he’s not a great cook. And he’s already drained by the time he gets home after working both jobs and visiting Ghost City. XL’s stress doesn’t help, adding to the fatigue that gradually shuts his body down.

While HC might not be able to taste a difference in XL’s blood, he does notice how frail the human moves around. How delayed XL responds, more so than he should be–even as a human. XL has scheduled more visits: three times a week this time. However, his words become less. He stops telling the little stories that brought a small smile to his face. XL doesn’t even mention the songs he’s been working on lately.

HC forces himself to ask about them after an especially rough coupling.

“How’s the songwriting going, darling?” HC asks quietly. He props his elbow upon his pillow, resting his cheek on his hand as he intently observes the human struggling to catch his breath, eyelids fluttering.

“I haven’t written anything new,” XL breathily answers. HC purses his lips. He ducks down to affectionately tongue at the skin his fangs pierced.

“No? In how long?” HC asks. XL sighs heavily.

“Maybe three weeks.”

HC doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s not one to console anybody. No one had afforded him that luxury, and naturally, he did not grant anyone else his concern. The silence that follows is unbearable.

***

The next time XL visits, he’s the one to initiate their first kiss. HC growls happily against his human’s lips, pinning him against the closed door of his private room. XL moans obscenely as HC languidly licks into his mouth. His arms desperately wrap around HC’s neck to bring him closer.

“Someone’s eager,” HC says with a chuckle as he pulls back. XL instantly attaches his lips to the vampire’s jaw, peppering light kisses along the pale skin. HC can’t help but think he’s taught his little human well. XL hums while trailing his lips back to HC’s, capturing them in a kiss that’s the sweetest one yet.

HC should’ve noticed how unstable XL’s legs seemed, how dreadful the bags under his eyes looked before indulging in their bedroom activities. He should’ve kept track all along of how thin XL is, how much more skin and bone he had become. HC is certainly not one to intrude on someone else’s life and scrutinize all their choices. But he should’ve said something sooner.

Maybe then, XL’s heart wouldn’t have stuttered so violently, or completely stopped beating for five counts.

HC watches in horror as XL’s eyes roll into the back of his head. His human’s body goes limp in his arms, collapsing into HC’s chest. When XL’s heart beat starts up again, it’s very weak. There’s a noticeable abnormality in its rhythm.

HC quickly gathers XL in his arms and speeds to the bed. He sits back against the pillow, placing XL to recline against his front. HC hooks his arms around XL’s middle from behind, anxiously listening to XL’s irregular heartbeat that seems like it takes all of his human’s energy to pump. Luckily, XL awakens a few minutes later. He registers a cold embrace and warm puffs of breath lingering near his ear.

“Did I pass out?” XL wheezes out, unconsciously melting into the body behind him.

“Yes,” HC says tightly. “Your heartbeat is uneven. Something is wrong.”

XL can’t tell if he’s imagining it but that sounded like worry in the vampire’s tone.

“Oh.”

HC inhales sharply.

“You just fainted, Xie Lian. Hell, your heart just stopped for a few seconds, and all you have to say is ‘oh?’” HC grinds out.

So he is upset. XL swallows thickly, not wanting to escalate things and further upset the vampire.

“It’s okay,” XL says. “I’m okay-“

“No. You’re not,” HC interrupts.

XL takes a deep breath, wincing slightly as HC tightens his arms around his hips. He’s more sensitive than normal, XL realizes. Before XL can defend himself further, HC grasps XL’s chin and turns his head to face the vampire.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he states. He hears XL’s heart speed up. “There’s no use in lying. I can tell you’ve grown weaker since you first came.”

“Well, I have been donating my blood to a certain vampire for a few months now. I’m bound to be a bit weak in my legs,” XL replies as a matter of factly. He means to poke fun at the situation rather than acknowledge the severity of it. HC knows this because he’s done it numerous times himself. But when XL does it, it makes HC’s blood boil.

“Are you saying I am causing this- this deterioration in your health?” HC asks tensely. XL lets out a gasp, whirling around in HC’s arms, immediately backpedaling.

“No! No, not at all.”

HC’s eyes assess his human who trembles slightly in his arms. He cradles XL in between his legs, hands shifting XL further up his body so he can rest his head on HC’s chest. HC gently pets XL’s hair, an action that was uncharacteristic of him months ago, before XL had walked through the entrance of his bar.

XL gently smiles in an attempt to placate the vampire.

HC’s eyes flash a frightening scarlet.

“I don’t believe you.”

XL’s face crumples.

“It’s true! I’ve just been really busy is all. Work has been hectic and- and-“ gone is the innocence that HC once saw in XL’s doe eyes, instead replaced by stress and utter brokenness that alarms the vampire to no end. A voice in the back of HC’s head snarls that those emotions had always been behind XL’s eyes; they were simply better hidden, and HC had been too lust-driven to notice.

XL continues his rambling, frantically shaking his head. “-I took some extra shifts because I needed the money to pay for some water damage that flooded half my apartment. I’m fine—truly.“

If HC had a beating heart, it would have dropped down to his stomach at the sudden realization. His fingers dig into the paper-thin skin of XL’s hips, then trace up the bony knobs of his spine.

“You’re not eating right.”

“Wait- S-san Lang-“

The nickname HC had asked XL to call him is hurdled back into his face like a stone aimed to shatter. It sounds like a cry for help.

“And you’re not getting enough sleep,” HC concludes with a disapproving frown. His eyes now glow a deep crimson, matching the silken sheets that HC ensures are in perfect condition every time XL visits.

“Fuck, XIE LIAN, you know you need proper nutrition and rest to recover from each night you spend with me!” HC is nearly shouting now, voice wavering out of his control. Who knew another creature could make him feel so strongly?

“I-I am!”

“I SAID NOT TO LIE TO ME. I CAN TELL WHEN YOU’RE NOT BEING HONEST,” HC explodes, spatting those words with a poison that he often uses with uncooperative subordinates, but never directed at XL before.

Tears glisten in XL’s eyes as he’s cornered with no way out, no relief from the building pressure that suffocates him. Right now, after everything XL has been through, this seems to be his tipping point. He never expected HC to care this much. Or perhaps HC is just concerned his reliable supply of blood is flaking out on him, just when he’s had a feasible taste.

XL is sure HC has plenty of other donors to feed on. It’s not like XL is particularly special in that way. Frankly speaking, XL had time and time again asked the universe to give him one last sign that his life mattered in some capacity. But if he couldn’t see the value in his own life, who else could?

XL scrambles off from HC’s lap, allowing himself to speak with the deep-seated spite that has grown in his heart like an untamable weed.

“THERE’S NO NEED TO GET SO WORKED UP OVER MY HEALTH!! I’LL BE GONE SOON ANYWAY! THE DOCTOR GAVE ME THREE MORE MONTHS,” XL screams, having to catch his breath after exerting so much power into his voice. “So there. You have my answer. I’m not lying this time. Just one a couple more months and then- then you won’t have to deal with my shit anymore, okay?”

HC can’t move. He can’t speak either. The shock taking over his system renders his mind and body completely useless. He can only stare blankly at XL whose tears now cascade down his cheeks.  

No, this cannot be happening-

XL’s whimpers pull HC out of his head. The human hugs his own frail body, shivering from a coldness that does not exist in the room.

How did HC let it get so bad?

“I’m sick, San Lang. Very, very sick. Not just physically,” XL whispers defeatedly, letting out a small hiccup.

HC doesn’t hesitate to surge forward to throw his arms around XL, hugging him once more. It’s a habit now—to hold XL whenever he could. Now, HC wonders how many more times he would get this chance before it was inevitably the last.

“Xie Lian…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I-I just can’t eat. Sometimes from stress, other times I completely forget. And I want to rest, but I end up laying in bed awake for hours a-and my mind just won’t let me sleep-”

For the first time in over a decade, there is someone else to hear XL’s agonized wails.

“Please believe me, San Lang. Please."

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Three

Rating: NSFW Length: 2272 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The finale for the romance for @kim-monsterlings!

xxx

Much to your surprise, Ruathym gives you space. There are fewer summons and the spies make themselves ever scarcer, until you could swear there were long stretches of time in which you were truly alone. Even more surprising, you found yourself becoming restless and ill-tempered in these moments, losing your patience with even Tinki. (Of course, you make it up to the little, well-meaning creature; spiders, you learn, are surprisingly good at puppy-dog eyes.)

“You’ve been snapping at the staff left and right,” Ruathym says with no small amount of amusement some days later, braiding your hair down your scalp. It’s gotten longer, you realise, and you contemplate cutting it before your captor speaks. “Have I displeased you in some way?”

Yes, you wish to say, but you’re sure that the King has done nothing wrong. Not truly. “No,” you say instead, though it sounds unconvincing to your own ears.

“Hm,” hums Ruathym, tugging gently at your hair in admonishment. “With the way you’ve been acting, one might get the impression that you dislike being far from my side.” You twitch and he laughs, triumphant. “Is that it, my little bug? Have you come to crave the pull of my silk?”

“I wish you wouldn’t mock me,” you grouse, sighing heavily. “It reminds me why I prefer my own company.”

Ruathym chuckles, fingertips skating along the skin of your back before he picks you up and cradles you against him in his four arms. “I thought humans needed time to mourn their losses,” he says, searching your face with something sharper in his eyes than his usual derision. “I’m no reader of minds, my sweet. You must tell me if you have want of me.”

You scoff. You can’t help it. When has being vulnerable ever served you well? You almost bite his fingers when he turns your face to look into your eyes, sighing once again in your defeat. “And if I do?” you challenge, lifting your proud chin. “What of it?”

“Then you shall become my consort,” says Ruathym, with a simple frankness that flabbergasts you.

“Your—what?” you gasp, distantly aware that your lips are flapping like a fish on the docks.

“Do try not to make me repeat myself,” Ruathym replies in exasperation, pinching your chin. “My consort. My lover. Whatever you humans call those of our stations in courtship.”

“But I’m human!” you splutter, struggling to sit up straighter in his arms.

“I’m aware,” drawls Ruathym, helping you get your bearings—at least physically. “Did you think I was sleeping with you because you disgusted me?”

“I…” You don’t have the words. You don’t know what you thought, but it definitely wasn’t this. “You think I’m attractive?”

“What did I just say about making me repeat myself?”

You huff, scowling up into his handsome, angular face. “You wouldn’t be. I want answers, not riddles.”

Ruathym snorts indelicately, one of his few habits that doesn’t come with some modicum of damnable grace. “Yes, I find you attractive. No one else has the audacity to speak to me the way that you do. I find it thrilling.”

“You mean you like it when I’m cruel.” You frown. “That’s not what I’m after. I don’t want to be cruel to my lover. If you want to court me, you do it right.”

Ruathym carefully sets you down on the bed, curling his legs up under himself and draping his humanoid torso across plump, velvety pillows. “Teach me what humans do ‘right’, then,” he commands, gesturing for you to speak.

You flounder for a moment; this was not how you expected your evening to go. “We… We court,” you say dumbly, gesticulating helplessly. “We exchange gifts of trinkets and flowers, we write one another letters, we—well, usually there’s pining involved, I suppose.”

“How dull,” sighs the King, watching you beneath his thick, silvery lashes. “Driders kill for their lovers.”

The weight of his words isn’t lost on you. You think of your brother and his knights—of the entirety of the kingdom laid to waste at your feet. You feel lightheaded, blood creeping up your neck and up into your face. You have to resist the urge to hide from the slow, smug smirk of satisfaction that melts onto the Drider King’s face. Damn the man. Had he been courting you in his own way this entire time? Damn him!

“What about the Queen?” you ask, hedging around the obvious revelation and latching onto one of your more prominent doubts.

Ruathym blinks hard, clearly startled. “What about her?”

“You’re married,” you say, “and she hates me. Won’t she want me dead once she realises her lover’s attention has strayed?”

The King laughs, hard and loud, throwing his head back with his mirth and revealing his fangs. “She’s never loved me a day in her life,” he manages to gurgle after several seconds of laughter, “and the feeling is mutual. We married for politics and to spawn strong children. That’s all. If she so much as schemes to harm a hair on your head, I will kill her or die trying.”

“Ruathym!”

“What? Does it shock you? I protect what is mine, little bug, and you are what I wish to possess in your entirety.”

You bristle at this, though you curse your stupid heart for fluttering in your chest like a tizzied moth. “I’m not a thing, Ruathym. You can’t possess me. Either you love me, or our arrangement remains the same.”

Ruathym shrugs an elegant shoulder, expression shifting into something bordering on thoughtful. “What is love to a human may not be love to a drider, little one. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Is that not love? I would kill you before I allowed you to court another. Is that not love? I would lay down my life to protect you. Is that not love, this powerful, ugly thing?”

You don’t know what to say to this. You want to object, but your heart is pounding too loudly, your thoughts are too muddled. Never has someone felt so strongly about you, and while your feelings are conflicted, you can’t deny that there’s something intoxicating about the King and his firm command of you in and out of the bedchambers.

Courtship with Ruathym is… interesting. He sends you poisonous flowers at first for their beauty, unaware that their very touch could kill you. When you correct him, he expresses his disdain for human frailty, but then he sends for roses and takes the care to have their thorns removed so as to avoid any chance of injury. It’s excessive and obnoxious, but it’s endearing in its own way, even if you’ve never been particularly fond of roses. Still, each bouquet is a different colour paired with different complimentary flowers, and you begin to look forward to your weekly deliveries with something like anticipation.

Then there are the letters.

As expected, Ruathym’s lettering is swooping and elegant, more reminiscent of ornamental calligraphy than what one would use for writing to a lover. Still, each letter holds within it a terribly sweet awkwardness that lets you know that he’s never written a letter out of love in the whole of his life. He’s strangely formal at first, addressing you by all of your names in the greetings of his first few letters, but it isn’t long before he’s dropping them all in favour of addressing you as he does in person. It makes your heart flutter oddly in your chest to see ‘little bug’ written in such beautiful, glittering script, shimmering silver on charcoal grey parchment.

Soon, they become less letters and more little notes delivered on scraps here and there. Tiny doodles of advisors dying terrible deaths done in the throes of boredom, or tidbits of trivia from the kingdom at large. Did you know we had 5,363 cattle in the region of the L’Surba Caverns? Neither did I know nor care, one says, and you snort into your tea at the thought of the King sitting proudly while some poor sod with an abacus counted out their livestock from the sum of several reports. While you missed the weight of your crown, you did not exactly miss all of the bureaucracy attached to it.

He takes you on little outings, here and there. At first it’s a simple stroll through the gardens, sharing meals and speaking about your days. Then, as you both grow bolder, outings to meet—or, in his case, intimidate—the people. Finally, with glamours and enchantments, you take to the countryside for days at a time, disguised as a couple or adventurers on a quest. It’s during these outings that you get to know him best, away from the bustle of the castle, where his impetuous charm and rakish smiles lure you to him like a moth to flame, and you crash and burn in his heated embrace.

One evening many months later, you are summoned to a part of the palace that you rarely frequent, for it is usually crawling with servants and vassals of every kind. Now, however, the halls are quiet and still, and the servant who leads you to the chamber where Ruathym awaits disappears like a whisper in the dark. There, in the centre of the room, is a set of robes unlike any you’ve ever seen, woven in shimmering silk dyed the colour of rubies. You approach as if in a dream, running your fingers along embroidery in the shape of tiny silver spiderlings along the shoulders and hems—you nearly jump out of your skin when the King drapes himself across your back.

“What is this?” you whisper, looking over your shoulder at his soft, searching face.

“Your wedding attire,” he says, and he seems unperturbed when you draw away, stunned.

“My what? Your wife!”

“Is dead,” Ruathym simply replies, shaking his head at your unasked question. “We had a clutch of eggs. She went the natural way. The children feed on her yet.”

You grimace at this, though you can’t deny the relief you feel at her passing. “You’re a father now?”

“I am. You will also be their parent, when we wed.”

“‘When’? You’re assuming I’ll accept!”

“Would you deny me?” he asks sharply, eyes narrowing into gleaming slits.

Your stomach flips. “Well,” you say, flustered and at a loss. “This is all so sudden, Ruathym!”

“Is it really?” he asks, reeling you in against him again. “We’ve posed as newlyweds before. Why is it so different now?”

“Because it’s real now! We wouldn’t be pretending!”

“Who says that I was pretending before?” he demands, trapping you between his body and the robe on the mannequin. “It was practise.”

You feel your face burning, and you’re sure you might blend into the robe at your back if given just a little more provocation. “You despicable little—“

“Yes, yes, call me names,” he says, waving away your insults. “Later. Give me your answer now.”

“You know my answer,” you grumble, pushing ineffectively at his chest.

“I know it,” he confirms, smugness in every syllable. “I wish to hear it.”

You kiss him instead, drawing him into a passionate embrace and climbing up into his arms when he lifts you off your feet. You hadn’t seen the bed in the corner of the room, but that’s where he takes you a moment later, tossing your “irritating human clothing” over the edge of it and onto the floor. You expect him to bend you over the pillows. You expect him to claw at your skin, to bite at your shoulders, to whisper filth into your ears.

He kisses you instead.

He kisses you like neither of you have ever borne a crown—as if he could find the answers in the hazing of your eyes when he steals your breath with his tongue, hands in your hair and burning along your spine. He teases you open with his fingers until you’re reduced to begging for release, and then he presses into you with soft, shuddering breaths spilling from his lips, eyes on your face as you toss your head back into the sheets and writhe.

He sighs your name like a psalm when you come around him, and then he pushes into you again and again, his cool fingers threading between yours and holding you firmly against the bed as you shake apart beneath him. You feel something in your chest unbreak when he bites you without fang, staying present for every moment that his lips brush against yours and your name falls into the pool of heat between you.

This time, when he comes, he shatters like a shower of glass and sparks, cresting against you like a wave and pushing you over the edge all over again, throat trapped desperately—willingly—between his teeth. When your eyes focus again, you find him looking down at you with a tenderness you’d never thought him capable of, and it makes you want to hide. “What?” you whisper up at him, trying and failing to tug a bit of the sheets over your body.

“I love you, little bug,” Ruathym whispers back, tracing your lips with his thumb. “I have done and will do so until this heart in my chest stops beating.”

“That’s so dark,” you say, “for a declaration of love.”

“It is my declaration, and I am not a man of light. Would you deny me?”

“No,” you breathe, shyly reaching up to touch his face. “I love you, too.”

Ruathym smiles, and despite his words, it lights up the room. “I know.”

You snort. “Bastard.”

“I know that, too.”

[fridayfirefly]

Retirement

Read Retirement on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 21 - Domestic Bliss

The first time Marinette and Garfield ever discussed retirement was before they even started dating. For superheroes, retirement was just a fact of life. One day, if you make it long enough, you'll put down the suit and you'll never pick it up again. Maybe someone will take your place. Hopefully, no one will need to. But no matter how strong you are, not even if you're Superman in his prime, the simple fact was that someday you would retire.

"What do you think you'll do after you retire?" Marinette mused to Garfield. Out of all the Titans, Marinette spent the most time around Gar, simply because the two of them spent a lot of time in the living room. Marinette liked the ambient noise that his video games provided when she worked on her projects, and Gar liked to have someone to talk to while he played. Most of Marinette's current focus was on the embroidery in her hands, as she stitched vines running down the sleeves of her shirt, but she still took the time to start a conversation with Gar.

"I dunno..." Gar glanced up from the game he was playing. "What'll you do once you give up being Ladybug."

"That's a tough question. I used to think that I wanted to run a big fashion company, like Agreste Fashion, but now I think I want something a little more low-key. In my ideal future, I own a little boutique where I make custom clothing. There would be a fabric store and a café on the same block as me, and I would never have to leave the neighborhood."

"That sounds nice. I think I might try going to college and see where that takes me. I applied to Jump City University right before Christmas, and they accepted me. If I went, I would start classes in the fall.”

Marinette’s head jerked up as she gave Gar her full, undivided attention. “I’m going to JCU next fall!” she exclaimed excitedly. “We might have classes together. What are you planning on majoring in?”

Gar shrugged, “JCU has a veterinary program that I'm interested in. I'd be taking animal behavior, biology, chemistry, and a whole bunch of other science classes.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s nothing much. I didn’t expect them to accept me, anyway.”

Gar seemed oddly subdued about the idea of going to college. He was a naturally enthusiastic person, which made it very out of character for him to be so dismissive. It worried Marinette. “No, you deserve praise for your accomplishment. Jump City University is a very selective school.”

“I’m not a genius. I’m just me.”

“You’re smart, Gar, I know you are. Getting accepted to JCU is just one of the many reasons why you are brilliant.”

“Are you gonna name them all for me?” joked Gar.

His question was rhetorical, just a joke, but Marinette wasn't finished convincing Gar that he deserved all the praise in the world. “For starters, you can finish any video game in less than a day. Even the ones where you need logic and strategy, you fly right through them. Secondly, you’re a genius when it comes to animals. And it’s not just because of your superpower. You taught yourself animal behavior so that you could blend in with the animals you’re imitating. Thirdly, you pretend not to be invested in politics, but I’ve seen how you keep yourself informed about environmental policies and activism. You really care about the planet. Fourthly-“

"Alright, Buginette,” laughed Gar, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You’ve proven your point.”

Marinette set her embroidery down on the coffee table and moved to Gar's couch. "Is this game multiplayer?"

"Yep. Do you want to play a few rounds?"

"Hmm... I think I could spare a few minutes to kick your butt."

"Please. I'm going to squash you like the little bug you are."

"You wish!"

----------

The next time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was well after they started dating. They got together in their Junior year at JCU after spending two years in relationship limbo, with both too nervous to make the first move. They finally confessed their feelings for each other after Dick and Starfire locked them in a closet together until they admitted that they liked each other. They graduated college as a couple, with Gar planning on attending veterinary school and Marinette planning on starting up her fashion business. That summer they spent a lot of time talking about the future.

"I've been thinking of recruiting someone to take over as Ladybug," remarked Marinette as she cuddled up next to Gar on the couch.

"Really? Who do you have your eye on?" asked Gar.

"Wonder Woman recently took on a new protege, Cassie Sandsmark. The Ladybug Miraculous already has some connections to Wonder Woman and her home of Themyscira. Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, was a wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous for quite some time."

"If you gave up the Miraculous would you still fight crime?"

Marinette shook her head. "I think it might be time to give up crimefighting. It's been ten years since I took up the Ladybug Miraculous to fight Hawkmoth, and six years since Hawkmoth was defeated. I wasn't ready to give up that responsibility then, but I think I'm ready now."

"When would you give up the Miraculous?"

"Soon. I talked to Wonder Woman about it last week and she's enthusiastic about the idea. I would need to spend some time getting to know Cassie, just to make sure she's a good fit, and Tikki would need to vet her as well, but I have a good feeling that she'll pass any tests of character we put her through." Marinette turned to face Gar. "I didn't want to make any concrete decisions before I talked to you. I know that we've always fought crime together, but I'm ready to move on with my life. I'm ready to retire."

Gar nodded. "I understand and I fully support your decision. I've been considering leaving the Titans as well. I know I could continue living in the Tower and attend veterinary school at JCU, but last week I got an acceptance letter from UC Davis for their School of Veterinary Medicine."

Marinette's eyes widened. "Gar, that's amazing! I remember looking into UC Davis when you were applying, and their program is nationally ranked."

Gar grinned. "The best in the country. It's too good to pass up."

"You have to go!" exclaimed Marinette. "This is your dream!"

"I think I'll send in my acceptance tomorrow," decided Gar. "Maybe we can go to Davis this weekend and scout out an apartment."

"And fabric stores," chimed in Marinette.

Gar laughed. "Anything for you, Buginette."

----------

The final time Marinette and Gar discussed retirement was years later. Marinette and Gar had gotten married and had moved back to Jump City. Marinette opened her fashion boutique, which had very quickly exploded in popularity. Gar started working for a non-profit veterinary clinic, which provided free veterinary services to lower-income neighborhoods. They had both achieved their dreams, and yet neither seemed content with their lives.

"Maybe we just need a change of scenery," suggested Marinette, leaning her head against Gar as they both sat on the beach watching the sunset. "I'm so tired of the city."

"Maybe," said Gar. "It would be nice to have a house with a backyard, rather than just an apartment."

Marinette sighed. "I know that I always said that I wanted to be the owner of a successful boutique, but this wasn't really what I had in mind. I'm so busy that I feel like I never get to spend any time with you anymore. Every day my inbox is filled with emails asking me to sell my company or expand to more locations. I'm tired of it. My passion is for making clothes, not running a business."

"I know how you feel. Every day I encounter another neglectful pet owner who brings their animal to the clinic for help but refuses to listen to me when I tell them that they need to change the way they treat their animal. It's exhausting."

"We could both just quit our jobs and move into the woods," joked Marinette.

Gar nodded, but he wasn't joking. "I've actually been thinking about that. There are a lot of remote regions with a real need for veterinary practices to provide medical assistance for the farm animals out there. I would feel a lot more useful taking care of animals that don't have anyone else."

Marinette turned to face Gar. "I wouldn't mind moving. I've been sending all of the offers to buy my boutique straight to my email archive, but I'm sure if I looked through them all I could find someone who would be able to take care of the business aspect of Ladybug Designs. I could retire from the business and design on my own time, when the inspiration strikes, instead of forcing myself to churn out design after design."

"You really wouldn't mind?" asked Gar, a hopeful look on his face.

Marinette shook her head. "I was serious about moving out of the city. There's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but I've been waiting for the right moment. I think that moment is now. Gar, I'm pregnant."

The deer-in-the-headlights look on Gar's face was comical, to say the least. Marinette giggled, "Well?"

Gar snapped back to reality, transforming into an elephant, trumpeting his joy. He turned back into himself and wrapped his arms around Marinette. "I'm so happy! This is the best news I could have ever heard, Buginette. Now we have to move. I want our kid to have a backyard and a dog and a big driveway where I can teach them how to ride a bike and a pond where they can swim in the summer-"

Marinette cut Gar off with a kiss. "One thing at a time," she giggled.

"I think this will be the best decision we have ever made," declared Gar.

Marinette agreed. "I think that partial retirement will be good for us."

----------

This was bliss. The feeling of grass under Marinette’s bare feet as she walked back to the house from the lake, hand in hand with Gar. The sound of their daughter's laughter as she danced around them, catching fireflies. The taste of homemade apple pie and vanilla ice cream, eaten rebelliously early as Gar proclaimed, "Dessert before dinner!" The sight of the stars up above them, no light pollution to mask the beauty of the heavens. The sound of Gar's voice, whispering, "I love you, Buginette," into Marinette's ear. And as Marinette settled into her husband's arms, she knew for certain that retirement was the best decision she had ever made.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[smiting-finger]

alive, and back on my usual nonsense

So after getting preoccupied with other things and temporarily falling off the face of the planet (for like an entire year ಥωಥ), I was thinking about the kdrama Mr. Queen (which I've been meaning to watch), and the Chinese novel it was based on (太子妃升职记, which I read a few years ago and very much enjoyed), and this popped out--

Wei Wuxian’s first thought is that there seem to be an awful lot of female voices around, for a bedroom inhabited by two men. Did he drink too much last night? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s overindulged on a trip to the town and woken up in a strange place the next morning, but that kind of problem has been cropping up a lot less frequently now that he has Lan Zhan around to ferry him home.

(Sometimes literally, on his back. His broad, strong--)

But perhaps Lan Zhan had gotten drunk, too? In which case, Wei Wuxian should consider them lucky to have woken up surrounded by people, rather than chickens, rabbits or, notably, on one occasion, mounds of resentful cabbages.

The chatter around him continues, pitched high with youth and - is that anxiety? It's interspersed with the odd interjection from what sounds like one (calmer, if more exasperated) older woman and a man. Probably not a nunnery, he decides. Perhaps the back rooms of a pleasure house? Although, if that’s the case, this amount of excitement over a mere two men is honestly a little excessive.

He reaches out tentatively, but pats all the way across the mattress to the edge without finding his usual bedfellow. A much less tentative venture towards the other side produces similar results.

Hm.

Wei Wuxian cracks open an eye and heaves himself upright, absent-mindedly scratching at his (unusually soft - as much as he hates to admit it, maybe Nie Huaisang has a point about drinking less and training more) side and squinting into the too-bright light until the person-shaped blur in front of him sharpens into focus.

“Niang niang!” a complete stranger cries tearfully, clutching at the sleeve of his other arm. “You’re awake! Thank Heavens, you’re awake! Physician Liu, quick, quick!”

A cushion is produced from somewhere and thrust expectantly between Wei Wuxian and the elderly man sitting at his bedside.

He sighs. It’s probably not worth fighting.

Wei Wuxian smacks his upturned wrist onto the unusually lavish brocade and is only a little surprised when it’s covered by a cloth before the physician reaches to take it.

(Do they think he’s diseased?)

((Is he diseased?!))

(((Is that why Lan Zhan isn’t here?)))

He looks at the row of young girls (+ 1 matron) kneeling along the wall to his left, dressed identically to the first and also now beginning to prostrate themselves and wail about “Niang niang!” and blessings and deserving to die.

Not a pleasure house, then.

He looks around at the rest of the richly-furnished room and its intricately-carved wooden furniture, the wealth of jade carvings and the obscene amount of gold that's gilding … everything (so shiny). The opulence of it all would put even Jin Guangshan to shame.

So, not a nunnery either.

He looks down at the small hands, delicate wrists and - he clutches one abruptly just to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him - breasts of the body that he certainly was not inhabiting yesterday.

“Well,” he says aloud, unable to stop himself from wincing at the high, soft voice that emerges despite fully expecting it. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”

===

Two days, one diagnosis of shock-induced memory loss and some discreet enquiries (as well as some indiscreet enquiries) later, this is what he knows about his situation:

He’s the main consort (unfavoured) of the crown prince of whatever place he’s landed in;

Three days ago, following a disagreement with one Consort Yun (favoured, main competitor for husband’s affections);

In the course of this disagreement, both women somehow fell into a palace lake and mostly-drowned;

Consort Yun (admittedly quite pretty) was revived at the scene, but Wei Wuxian took a full day to “miraculously” recover;

Angered by the unseemly behaviour of her daughters-in-law, particularly upon learning that the Crown Princess’s first act upon waking was to stumble upon a chance meeting between the Crown Prince and Consort Yun in one of the pleasure gardens and bodily throw herself between them (a tactical error on Wei Wuxian’s part. He’d been trying to throw himself over the battlements to freedom, but he’d gotten lost and scaled the wrong wall), the Empress (Crown Prince’s political opponent, not particularly fond of either consort) grounded both of them to their respective residences for a month, with no visitors allowed.

Which brings him to his current position, feeding the fish in his personal pond as an excuse to be alone. Not truly alone - he shoots a pointed glance at the maids watching anxiously from the other side of the courtyard - because he’s apparently a “suicide risk” now (and honestly, yes, he’d meant to throw himself off that roof, but he hadn’t meant to die - it’s simply that this new body’s cultivation level is not what he’s come to expect even from Mo Xuanyu’s modest abilities), but alone enough to start planning his next move.

Direct escape is out - he didn’t have a plan for what to do once he’d gotten out anyway, and honestly he’s better-resourced for finding out how he got here in the Palace than anywhere else, so it’s no great loss.

“What do you think, Master Fish?” Wei Wuxian asks a gold and black spotted koi with particularly sage-looking whiskers. “Shall I just stay here for the time being?”

It’s not a terrible place to be for the time being, he must admit, throwing more food into the water and watching the fish swarm. Being grounded, he’s at no risk from the Crown Prince’s amorous attentions for a month (a salute of gratitude to the Empress for the inadvertent protection). And thanks to Consort Yun and her voluptuous figure (and if the Crown Prince is more partial to that than the Zhao Feiyan style of willowy fragility that Wei Wuxian seems to have inherited, who can honestly blame him?), he’s at no great risk from them after that, either (a salute of gratitude to the unknowing sister-in-arms, taking one - and hopefully a great many more after that - for the team).

According to his maid (sleeve-clutcher extraordinaire, who even now is boring two holes into his skull with her woeful gaze from across the way while he does nothing more suspicious than scatter another handful of feed towards some latercomer fish), the body he’s inhabiting comes from a powerful military lineage. In particular, her father is (was?) a powerful general who currently commands more than half the nation’s military forces and has the absolute trust of the Emperor. So that more or less keeps him safe from the machinations of the majority of the nest of vipers in this palatial cesspit.

That just leaves the Empress, who - if his servants and the smuggled letters from the Original Goods’s mother (a salute of gratitude to the worthy woman for spelling it out so that even such an interloper as he can understand) are anything to go by - would definitely kill him to damage the Crown Prince’s political standing or throw any sort of roadblock in the way of him from becoming Emperor.

Less immediately - if his secret informants are anything to go by (a salute of gratitude to the resourceful host for cultivating such a valuable resource if not her dantian) - it also leaves the Crown Prince, who, upon cementing his power as Emperor, would also definitely kill his current Crown Princess in order to wedge his beloved Consort Yun into the Empress role.

Really, the only road to any sort of security for someone in his position is to raise the next Imperial heir, outlive the Original Goods’s faithless husband and become the Empress Dowager.

Hopefully Wei Wuxian will be long gone by then, but if leaving means the Original Goods will return (from … Mo Xuanyu’s body? The Ether? Or???) - well, he doesn’t want to repay her hospitality by leaving her house in a mess, so to speak. So he’ll try to set her on that career path, if he can.

But that’s an aspirational goal. First, he has to not-die before he can find out how to get himself home.

And find out how to get himself home.

If getting himself home is even possible.

Wei Wuxian dumps the rest of the fish food in the water and yells.

(It startles the maids, the fish and the poor eunuch the Crown Prince has sent as a spy into falling out of the tree he’s been hiding in and into the prickly bushes below.)

===

The problem with “staying for the time being” is … well, how interminably boring it is. The approved list of hobbies for an Imperial consort seems to consist of: eating (but not too much), sleeping (but not too much), embroidery (which he can’t do), reading (but only texts on female virtue and the occasional terrible novel), playing music (but not the flute), conversing with his maids (who are very sweet, but are all like, 12) and walking in the gardens (which he’s not allowed to do).

Honestly, it’s no wonder all the consorts turn to scheming and murder.

It only takes a week of confinement for him to snap and sneak himself out for a nighttime adventure, setting off to explore the grounds and see … a night-blooming flower, a ghost, a rat, he’ll take pretty much anything at this point.

In the end, he finds none of these things, but the walking is still pretty nice, and he even hears the faint sounds of a guqin wafting over from one of the other consorts’ residences. (He should probably learn who lives where at some point, but it’s not exactly a priority. What’s he going to do with the information when he can only visit during the nighttime? Peep?) When Wei Wuxian wanders closer, the notes resolve themselves into the familiar strains of Flowing Waters, and his breath catches on a sudden surge of longing to hear the same song, played by a different set of fingers.

(First played on a familiar guqin and then, later, accompanied by soft humming between soft, worn sheets, played across the edges of Wei Wuxian’s ribs, along the dip of his spine, and finally lower, into--)

((Is Lan Zhan thinking about him?))

(((Is Lan Zhan looking for him?)))

Stumbling blindly on, he’s so caught up in missing Lan Zhan that he misses the first few stanzas of the next piece, and it isn’t until the music starts to rise in a familiar refrain that he freezes.

He knows that song.

He’s one of the only two people who know that song, which is in fact how he got caught out the last time he found himself in a farce of an identity charade, by the only other person who knows that song, who must be - who must be -

Lan Zhan, his blood sings in his ears as he takes off in a dead run towards the source of the playing. Up ahead of him, small courtyard glows softly with the light of the only burning lamp in their vicinity. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-

He scrambles up the wall with the ease of a lifetime’s practice, using bloody-minded determination to make up for the lack of muscle memory.

“Lan Zhan,” he yelps, forgetting to whisper in his excitement as he flings himself over the top and into the branches of a convenient, wall-side tree. “Lan Zhan, it’s me, I-”

This is, naturally, when his foot slips. He manages to catch hold of a branch, but his tender hands and puny wrists, unused to holding up anything heavier than a chicken leg, fail to maintain their hold through his weight, and he tumbles down the trunk into a sad puddle of fabric on the ground.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, fighting to untangle himself from the ridiculous train that, admittedly, made a considerable contribution to cushioning his fall. He clambers up onto his hands and knees--

--and looks straight into the wide-eyed stare of Consort Yun.

===

“I cannot believe,” Wei Wuxian growls, palming the ample softness of one exposed breast with one hand, while shoving the other deeper into the many (too many) layers of fabric between them and between Lan Zhan’s splayed legs, “that after everything that’s happened, you’re still taller than me.”

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh that turns quickly into a moan, and Wei Wuxian swallows it, smothers Lan Zhan’s gasping breaths with his own parted lips and sucks them greedily down even as he coaxes out more with twisting fingers here, another tug to Lan Zhan’s poor, abused nipple there.

He slides his fingers back between slick folds and then upwards again, pushing in and out in a few languid strokes before curling them to make Lan Zhan arch harder against the wall behind him, tilt his head back and expose a beautifully vulnerable stretch of neck to Wei Wuxian's teeth.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, and his voice is different, the shape of his lips is different, but the way Wei Wuxian’s name fits inside his mouth (tender, beloved), the way he tucks the flyaway strands of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, the look in his eyes when their gazes meet (warm, open, knowing) are the same, same, same.

===

===

I am entirely too lazy to write the rest of it, but afterwards they regroup and it turns out LWJ has been in this world for exactly one more day than WWX, having woken up in Consort Yun’s body when she was “revived”. Consort Yun is the daughter of a high-ranking Minister in the Treasury or something, so Lan Zhan been using his new position as the daughter of a ~scholarly family~ to build a reputation for being really into Buddhist scripture, and eventually he’s going to request to be allowed to go to a nearby Temple to attain some virtuous brownie points for the Imperial family via prayer as his penitence.

That there’s also an elderly monk living there who’s got a reputation for being super good with the divine mysteries and spiritual lore about curses and whatnot is totally immaterial, if Lan Zhan happens to run into that guy, it’ll be a total coincidence, yeah.

So WWX also starts on the divine penitence route, and if everyone thinks it’s because the Crown Princess refuses to be outdone by Consort Yun, then even better, and two weeks into confinement they wear the Empress down into letting them make the trip, and when they get there, turns out the monk is Nie Huaisang.

(NHS: “OH THANK GOD, I’ve done the research but the lynchpin of this mess is definitely somewhere in the Palace and I could not for the life of me figure out a way to get in.”

WWX: “That's nice, but seriously, how come you got to stay a man?”

NHS: “My friend, I may be a man, but my balls are currently swinging somewhere around my ankles.”

WWX: “...show me.”

And LWJ is like “NO.” except WWX can tell by the look in his eye that he sort of wants to see, too).

So they return to the Palace and WWX whirls into one of their morning audiences with the Empress, distraught about a ~dream from the ancestors~ where they warned him about disrupted ley lines or accumulated resentment or an offended minor god that needs investigation by someone, and “How convenient, because we met just the guy!” And the Empress looks like she was Done Five Years Ago, but the Empress Dowager, who’s old and doddery, is like “oh no, you must bring him!” and the Empress mutters “to fucking what, offend some major gods and really do the job properly?” and that’s how they find out the Empress is Jiang Cheng.

In the meantime, the confinement edict expires and WWX+LWJ are allowed to return to their regular programming, which means that as the legal wife, WWX can continuously summon LWJ to his residence for increasingly tenuous and spurious reasons. The best thing is, it’s not even out of character for the Crown Princess, who used to regularly summon Consort Yun to subject her to not-so-veiled barbs and petty torments. So WWX summons LWJ, and then immediately expels both their entourages from the room, instructing that no one is to enter on pain of death.

So LWJ’s maids are gnashing their teeth helplessly while all sorts of piteous moans, pained gasps and the occasional scream emanate from behind the closed door, and when their mistress finally emerges there are no marks on her body, but she’s weak-kneed and having trouble walking straight, so who knows what kind of terrible tortures the Crown Princess has visited upon her.

The Crown Prince obviously hears about this, so he bursts in one day without warning, only to find the two sitting together, the Crown princess’s arms around Consort Yun’s waist, her cheek pillowed on one heaving bosom, and although she’s smiling besottedly at him now, he could have sworn that he felt killing intent being directed at him only a second ago? And to tell the truth, he’s not really in love Consort Yun either, it’s all an act to keep the two consorts (and their families) pitted in a power struggle against each other until he can finally outmanoeuvre the Empress and cement his position as heir to the throne (and also to protect his actual favourite, a third consort who’s a nondescript nobody with no political backing). So the fact that “It was all a misunderstanding, we’re friends now,” his Crown Princess says sweetly (and did she … rub her cheek against his Consort’s chest? Must be his imagination) is not the worst thing (at least neither of them/their families can be enlisted by the Empress in support of her son, and if they’re caught up with Being Besties, then at least they’re not bullying his actual favourite), but for some reason he still feels kind of … threatened? Like someone’s making moves on his wife, which is absurd because they’re both his wives, but the vibes he gets from the first one in particular are kind of … off?

In any case, the crew solve the mystery, find the lynchpin object (which turns out to be a jade dildo belonging to one of the Emperor’s favoured consorts because of course it is), and wake up in their real bodies, in their real world, to a very apologetic hermit-inventor-cultivator whose property they stumbled onto while pursuing a resentful beast. Turns out they triggered the glamour/enchantment/psychic maze world he created as a security system because, “I just didn’t want to risk people getting into my stuff, you know? I’ve got some things that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands”. WWX is like “oh yeah, for sure” and JC is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SURE? HOW IS THIS AN UNDERSTANDABLE RESPONSE, IF YOU’RE AFRAID PEOPLE WILL TOUCH YOUR SHIT THEN JUST ENCHANT SOME FUCKING WARRIOR GOLEMS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.”

[multi-fandom-freak0221]

The Shell of a Girl that I Used to Know Well

Inspired by "Love of three" by @misashabunbun

Thank you @thestressmademedoit and @maleive07 for helping me find the fic.

So this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be (probably because I based it around like 5 songs) so I'll break it into parts and post each part separately. Oh and did I mention this is songfic? Because it's a songfic! No Felix yet, but you guys do see Peter but I surprise surprise I turned this into an OT4 pairing. Anyone wanna guess who the other lucky person is to date Mari, Peter and Felix? Also bonus points for anyone who can figure out Mari's stage name.

The song in this part in Stitches by Shawn Mendes and The Lonely by Christina Perri is where I got this parts title from. Also the song mentioned at the end is Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft Ashley Costello.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was grateful for the quiet she found in what she was pretty sure was some kind of presentation room. There was a raised platform which she believes is supposed to be some kind of stage and a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. She still has no idea how she got here, she was just trying to find some peace. She knew her pseudo Uncle and her friends meant well but they were suffocating her. It's been over a week since she left that bastard, not likely that he even noticed. Since Marinette has gotten to Stark Towers everyone has been treating her like she's about to break and she can't stand it. Yes she's hurt, but like give her a chance to fall apart before trying to shove her back together again! Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself as she sat on the little stage to work on the embroidery she was putting on the back of the blouse. She already had a full heart there but it was kind of plain. She wanted to add something but she didn't know what. 

She sighed softly. At times she really missed Tikki being around to be her second opinion. 

Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth the kwamis asked to be renounced and to have their respective jewelry return the Miraculous box. They were working together to heal poor Nooroo and Dusuu. Even though Marinette had been able to fully fix the peacock Miraculous, as well as heal Emilie Agreste and Nathalie Sancour from the effects of using a broken Miraculous, the two kwamis had to deal with a significant amount of emotional trauma from the whole affair. 

Even though the final battle had been won quietly without casualties it had taken a lot out of everyone who had been a part of it. Adrien's relationship with his father has been very strained to say the least. Even though Gabriel is doing his best to right his wrongs, it goes to say that the only reason Adrien even speaks to his father at all is because of his mother who is desperately trying to make up for years lost between the two of them.

While Marinette was trying to think of an idea for her embroidery she started humming a song she had heard recently on the radio. In her eyes it fit her past relationship with Damian Wayne perfectly. Soon enough she was singing softly.

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one has ever left me quite this sore.

Even on their worst days Lila's lies, Alya's beratings, hell even Mlle. Bustier's looks of disappointment never hurt half as much as Damian's total disinterest did. She had cooked him a nice romantic dinner yet he barely acknowledged her. More interested in whatever, or should she say whoever, was on his phone. After 5 mins of trying to carry the conversation alone Marinette sighed and just decided to eat the meal she worked so hard on. After 10 mins of stiff silence in their shared apartment, only filled with the sounds of Marinette eating and Damian texting, the latter got up. Grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, barely turning his head towards his fiancee to call out "I've got to go. Something came up at work."

Marinette wasn't even shocked anymore, just resigned. Still she tried to reason with the man she no longer recognized. Sometimes she wonders if she ever truly knew him at all. "You just got here. Isn't there someone else who can handle it? You haven't even touched your dinner."

True to her words, the young heir's meal sat completely untouched, quickly cooling in the AC.

"Mari, you know these things are important. Not just anyone can handle them." Damian's words were patronizing at best. It frustrated the young designer, but she didn't let it show.

"Will you be back tonight?" She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

Damian hummed noncommittally as he walked through the door still looking at his phone and not the beautiful young lady in front of him. "Most likely not. Don't wait up for me." He quickly walked out, closing the door behind him. Marinette quickly placed her ear to the door as he walked away from the humble abode. She could hear him on the phone.

"Yeah. I'm on my way, gorgeous. I just left." Silence. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing." Nothing but his footsteps as he continues to leave unknowing of her distress behind the apartment "Perfect. The less you're wearing, the better."

Marinette crumbled to the floor after she could no longer hear him. She had suspected as much but that didn't make hearing it less painful. 

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

She remembers the first time he truly yelled at her. The way he looked at her with disgust. The way she flinched away from his imposing figure and his cutting words. If tried hard enough she could delude herself that he was doing this out of her best interest. The illusion made even easier to believe by the way he apologized and hugged her after he stopped yelling. The way he told her he was worried about her going out and being made a target to Rogues because of her connection to him. The way he feared that he disguises wouldn't be enough even though he himself didn't recognize her at first when she walked back through the apartment door the day. She believed she was safer staying in the apartment because he said so and he only wants what's best for her. So eventually the walls of their apartment was all she saw 24/7. For her safety of course. 

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

Marinette's head was spinning. Or was it the room? Was she even breathing? She couldn't focus on any of that. All she could focus on was the picture sitting on the screen on her phone. The phone Damian had bought her. The idea made her feel sick now because all those gifts he was giving her now seemed to have double meanings. Especially when the picture filling her screen was of a naked Lila whose body was hidden behind a sheet lying on Damian's bare chest while he slept. She didn't even think to process how the lying bitch managed to get her number. Instead all she could focus on was tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart shatter. She didn't even process the fact that she left the phone right there with the picture still on the screen and started packing her stuff. She grabbed everything that was hers that she bought herself, later on she'd be surprised at how little that was. She stuffed her things in a small suitcase, put the miracle box in a duffle bag wrapped in her leftover fabric from commissions, grabbed her purse with her wallet and left. After locking the apartment door she slid the key underneath the door so he could have it back. He could have everything back he ever gave her. She was done. She was so distressed she didn't even notice that she had put on the one disguise she had and taken a train to New York until she was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower with her Uncle Tony and her Aunt Pepper holding her while she sobbed.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Marinette was so engrossed in the lyrics, in her feelings, that she didn't notice the tears falling from her eyes, nor the way she was furiously embroidering the shirt in her hands. And she definitely didn't notice that she had gained an audience.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Yeah you lured me in and I couldn't sense the pain

The first time she met Damian it had been an accident. She knew when her classes started she wouldn't have the time to get the fabrics she needed for her last commissions that she agreed to before going on hiatus. She knew juggling her business and school would be hard so told her clients she'd be on break for the unforeseeable future. She was so focused on her phone trying to make sure her list was complete, that she didn't notice the man right in front of her.

"Oh!" She fell back with a little yelp and when she saw what, or who, she ran into she hurried to help them up as well. "I'm so sorry monsieur. Are you okay?"

The man yanked his hand away from her and growled, "You wouldn't be having to ask if you weren't caught up in whatever idiotic nonsense is on your phone."

Marinette fumed silently. "Well excuse me sir, I don't know who you think you are, but that is uncalled for. I apologized and helped you up. All you had to do was walk away. No need to be so rude."

Damian raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "You don't know who I am?"

Marinette crossed her arms still annoyed. "Am I supposed to? You could be the president for all I cared and I still would say you were being rude and disrespectful."

Damian's expression changed slightly to a bit of amused intrigue. "I apologize. I thought you were another fangirl with some kind of ruse to get my attention. If you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a city like Gotham? I can tell from your accent you are not from here."

Marinette relaxed a little bit. "I'm here going to college when the semester starts, but right now I was out doing some shopping."

"Perhaps I could join you as a way to apologize for my rude behavior. I could give you a mini tour along the way." Damian smiled softly at her.

"I don't know," apprehension was clear on Marinette's face. "I don't even know you let alone your name."

Damian chuckled lightly. "I assure you, even if you don't know me, the rest of the city does. I won't be able to get away with doing anything to you without being plastered across every newspaper and magazine in town, Angel. But my name is Damian by the way. Damian Wayne." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly after his introduction.

"A-angel?" Marinette stuttered as she blushed.

"Well, I still don't know your name."

Marinette smiled before introducing herself. "My name is Marinette. Your company would be much appreciated, Damian"

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm going to reap what I sow

I'm left seeing red on my own

Sometimes on nights like these Marinette wondered what she did wrong. Because it had to be her of course. Why else would Damian go from her caring, charming, wonderful, Dove to Gotham's very own cold, unfeeling, ruthless, Ice Prince. 

"Hi, Damian. You're home early." Marinette tried not to let the hope seep into her voice. She had a feeling she wasn't successful.

Damian barely grunted at her as he continued to their room. "My idiots brothers dragged me into spending some time with them so I'm forced to change into something less formal."

"Oh okay." She knew she did an even worse job of hiding her disappointment. "You know I finished Uncle Jagged's outfit the other day. He loved it."

Damian hummed noncommittally. She knew he wasn't paying attention, he never was but she kept trying.

"You know how he's doing that "World's Greatest" Tour. Celebrating the hero's of the world in their respective cities. Luka's been opening for him. His career has really taken off. Hell I'm sure half the tickets Uncle Jagged sells are people just trying to see Luka. He'll have to tour solo soon."

"I bet." Damian's voice was muffled from being the closet, but she could still hear the disinterest in his voice.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorframe of "their" room. It was only theirs in name the fact that his clothes were there. She spent almost every night there alone. She took a deep breath trying to gather her courage for what she was going to ask. "Well they wanted to thank me for the outfits. Claimed the tour would have been half as successful without them. They invited me to take me out to dinner tonight to catch up, then for me to hang out backstage during their show. They said they missed me." Marinette hoped he still wasn't paying attention, but as soon as he settled his famous glare on her, she knew she wasn't that lucky. She flinched into herself under his gaze.

"Marinette. You know what would happen if you left this apartment. The famous Wayne Heir's sweet vulnerable fiance. The one never seen in the media anymore. You would get off this block before your picture would be on every media outlet in the city. Then you would be the Rogues target for the night. They would go anywhere you would be. Including the concert. Would you really be so selfish to endanger hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent concert goers just to 'hang out' with people you can see any time you please?" The disappointment on his face and the coldness of his delivery had her feeling ashamed. She hung her head low trying to hold back the tears. 

"I'm sorry." She knew her voice was barely above whisper, but if she tried to speak any louder she knew she'd open the flood gatesp.

Damian brushed past her. "You should be. I'll be heading to the concert with my brothers. I'll inform Jagged of your apologies for not coming."

"Just telling him I'm sick." She offered weakly still not looking up from the floor.

She could feel his judgeful look on her. "Of course not. He'll insist on coming to check on you then he'll see your lying. I'll tell him you're busy with commissions." He left her standing there as headed to leave again. She heard his phone ring and he answered it harshly. "I'm coming down, Todd!" "Of course not, you imbecile! She's a serious designer who can't be bothered out of her schedule to spend time with my idiotic brothers, especially when she's up to her nose in commissions!" She heard the door shut after that statement. I guess her soon to be brothers in law didn't know the real reason behind her lock down either. She stood there for a few more moments before she broke down into loud heavy sobs. She collapsed to her knees and just cried. Not for the first nor last time in that prison she called an apartment.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Her hands were moving furiously as she was trying to rid her mind of her cruel ex.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

She wanted to forget everything about him.

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His smile, his laugh, the loving look in his eyes.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His kisses, his hugs, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing her

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

His scowl, his glare, his need to hide her from the world

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His distance, his apathy, the way he was happy in any other girl's arms but her's

Needle and the thread 

Gotta get you out my head

Get you out of my head.

She wanted to forget loving him and hating him. She wanted her happiness back

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

Shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses 

I'll be needing stitches

And now that I'm without you kisses

I'll be needing stitches

I'll be needing stitches.

As she finished singing she awoke from her haze. She felt the tears on her face and wiped them away before looking to see what she had made. The simple heart from before now had a jagged line down the middle that stopped a quarter of the way to the bottom to represent a break. From the bottom it looked like the heart was dripping. The most noticeable change was the crude yet tasteful stitches that laid over the break in the heart. They weren't neat as if she were suggesting they were professionally done. The way she laid them subconsciously represented as if they were self done by someone trying their best.

While she was studying her impromptu embroidery a voice surprised her. "It looks nice."

She looked up in shock to see a brown haired boy around her age, 21 maybe 22, sitting at the table closest to the stage she was on. He looked as if he had been there for a while.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing so I came to see who it was because you have a beautiful voice, but then I saw you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you seem really focused and I didn't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to just leave you either, but- I'm sorry I'm rambling. My name is Peter. Are you okay?" The boy, Peter, asked her softly, looking concerned. For Marinette it was enough.

She had sat in the chair next to him and finally let out everything she was holding in. The tears were flowing freely now "I don't know. I'm so mad, so hurt, so confused. Where did it go wrong? One minute I'm getting my business degree at Gotham University, the next I'm in a relationship with Damian Wayne. It was amazing he was so kind and sweet and loving and he made me so happy. Then next thing I know after dating for about a year and half he proposes. I'm on cloud 9 and I say yes and I'm so excited for what's to come, but suddenly everything changes. Next thing I know he's saying I can't leave the apartment because he wants me to be safe from the Rogues and I accepted it. Then he's yelling at me for trying to sneak out and I'm thinking I deserve it. I should have just stayed home and he's already apologizing for yelling. Then suddenly he's gone more and more. He's never home and I'm alone and it hurts. Then suddenly I'm selfish for asking to go out to see my friends because how can I put everyone at risk just to go see some friends who I can see anytime I want. Yet nobody is ever allowed over. But I still believe he's right. How can I be So now I'm alone and miserable and it hurts because he keeps getting further and further from me and I'm starting to suspect what's going on but I'm too scared to ask him because if he confirms it, then everything I believed in is a lie and I couldn't live with that. But I didn't even have to ask because soon someone is sending me a picture and it's the girl who made my school life hell by taking everyone I thought was my friend away from me with a few far fetched lies, and here she is laying naked on my fiance's naked chest as he sleeps. And I know he knows who she is and what she did to me because I told him. Yet he doesn't care because here he is fucking her while I'm at home all the time because he told me to be. So I grabbed my stuff and left everything he ever got me and just left. So here I am miserable staying with my Uncle Tony trying not to think about the asshole while my friends try to help me feel better yet I feel terrible because I loved the jerk and I still kinda do and I still have the engagement ring which I should pawn, but it was Bruce's mom's ring and that would be wrong and Bruce would be devastated. Why do I care so much about him and his family when he couldn't be bothered with me?" She felt better after finally letting it all out. She hadn't cried since she came to Uncle Tony. Not when Adrien arrived with Kagami, Marc, and Nathaniel, not when Luka arrived with Uncle Jagged and not even when Chole and Alix arrived. All her friends and pseudo family were there yet she hadn't cried once, nor had she actually told them the full story. But here this stranger asked if she was okay and she let it flow like Niagara Falls.

If Peter was shocked by her rant he didn't let it show. Instead he placed a hand on her before speaking softly "Because you are an amazing person who is a million times better than him. He is insane to choose anyone over you especially someone so foul as a desperate liar. I just met you, but I can already tell that you are a kind hearted, talented girl and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives and I can tell by the crowd over there by the door that you have many people standing with you who already figured that out." Marinette looked up at his words to see her friends and pseudo uncles and their respective wives standing in the door. 

"Hi guys." As soon as Marinette finished speaking they all rushed towards her. Adrien reached her first pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh bugaboo, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us, princess?" He buried his face in her neck purring slightly in a way that calmed her.

"I guess I was still processing everything kitty. He really had me thinking he loved me and to find out he didn't was a hard blow." She confessed quietly.

"He'll meet my blade for hurting you, Mari," Kagami seemed to have Chole, Alix and surprisingly, Marc ready to back her. 

"No, Gami, I just want to get over him. He's not worth it." Mari remarked sadly before smiling at her friends. "But thank you, all of you, for having my back."

There were various "Of course" and "Always" that were heard among the group before Tony Stark cleared his throat. "Marinette let me properly introduce Peter Parker, my intern. Peter, this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng also known as MDC owner and head designer of Miracle Designs."

Peter looked star struck. "I love your work. You make the coolest clothes on the planet."

Marinette blushed lightly. "Thank you, Peter. Uncle Tony told me much about you and I was always impressed. You're nothing short of a genius." Marinette missed Peter's blush as she started introducing her friends to him, but Tony didn't.

"This is Adrien Agreste, former model and Physics major. This is Kagami Tsurugi, world champion fencer. This is Luka Couffanie, singer songwriter signed under Jagged Stone. They're dating. This is Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Marc Anciel creators of Miraculous Tales comic. They're engaged. This is Chole Bourgeois, the best lawyer in all of France and probably Europe. And this is Alix Kubdel, X Games Winner, and famous archeologists. These two are also engaged. I'm sure you know Jagged Stone and his manager and also his wife, Penny." 

"You guys are amazing! None of you look much older than me yet you're already so successful! What is in the water in Paris? Some kind of talent steroids?" Peter was amazed.

"Speaking of talent," Luka turned towards Marinette. "Melody why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" Soon everyone was agreeing that she was an excellent singer.

Marinette was bright red. "It's no big deal guys. I was just singing to myself, I wasn't expecting an audience."

Jagged took his chance to pull his pseudo niece into a hug. "Nettie, my girl you have got to let me sign you. It would be so rocking to have talent like yours produced under my label!"

"No way Uncle Jagged! I'm not even that good!" Marinette began protesting before Luka put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about this? I need some vocals for a song I wrote and no matter how much I love them, my dear boyfriend and girlfriend can not sing." Adrien and Kagami looked at each other before shrugging. No point denying it. "How about you feature in my new single under an alias and if it's hit you'll give an album a try?"

Marinette looked around at some of the most important people in the world to her before sighing and agreeing.

"Alright. But no promises that this will be hit. I'm really not that good. You guys are just biased."

Alix ruffled Marinette's hair. "Whatever you say, DC. Now let's go play some UMS3!"

As everyone was heading out to find a room large enough for all of them Peter prepared to go back to work on a project until Marinette turned back to him with a huge smile and bright eyes. "Come on Peter! Come play with us." 

How could he say no to that? So he came along.

A couple weeks later Luka's single "Partners in Crime" featuring Neon Titanium hit number one on the charts. And the most searched inquiry on Google for 3 days following was "who is Neon Titanium?" Needless to say Marinette was busy for the next couple months. Especially after Luka dropped a music video which she starred in as well wear a full face mask to stay hidden.

[hearts-hunger]

aay’han mar’eyce (bittersweet discovery): chapter one || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Series Summary: In search of the Jedi you’ve been tasked to find, you and Din wrestle with the bittersweet discovery of your little one’s past and destined future. || Part Three of Jate’kara (Lucky Stars)

Chapter Summary: When you land on Corvus, you and Din both realize you’re more nervous about finding Ahsoka Tano than you thought.

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst | Word Count: 3k 

Warnings: Mentions of reader’s pregnancy

A/N: When will God stop my sinful hand? Never, and I’ll keep writing for Mr. and Mrs. Djarin as long as it gives me serotonin like this. This series is a pretty distinct tonal shift from Dralshy’a Ka’ra, which was all sunshine, but I really wanted to do another episode rewrite and I thought chapter 13 had such great potential for family bonding and hurt/comfort. I hope you like it! ♡

“Corvus. This is the place.”

Your husband’s voice broke the silence that had filled the cockpit, and you looked up to see a cloudy green planet steadily growing bigger beyond the glass. Bright glimpses of magma core peeked through the dense atmosphere. The display on the Crest’s instrument panel gave a friendly chirp and outlined the planet’s main hubs, one of which was the city of Calodan. Your stomach gave an unpleasant jolt at the name and you tried to still the slight trembling of your hands, looking for something to distract you from your impending arrival on the planet.

You held an unfinished project in your hands, a soft little baby romper made of navy blue cotton. Din had gotten you the fabric while you were staying on Naboo - though he’d gotten it for you to make something for yourself, he hadn’t minded when you told him you were going to use a little of it to make something for your babies. You’d already stitched up a handsome little shirt for your son, and now you were working on something for your new baby.

Resting your hand over your stomach, you gave a small sigh and thought over the last month. Omera had wanted you to try and steer clear of danger as much as possible, for your sake and the baby’s, but danger followed your little family with an uncanny determination. The Mandalorians you’d found on Trask had turned out to be an entirely different kind than the one you’d known, taking their helmets off as if their creed meant nothing, roping your husband into a dangerous, fruitless mission in exchange for their help. But they’d also helped save your little one, and you’d be forever indebted to them for it.

You shuddered. You couldn’t think about that day for long before you grew panicky, nervous to let your son out of your sight lest he be swallowed up like that again. You and Din had both had nightmares about it, about what could have happened to Din or your baby on that ship. You could have lost a child and been widowed in the blink of an eye had it not been for Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorians, and the thought made you sick with fear and worry even now.

Then you’d gone to Nevarro, and Din had gone off on another mission to destroy an Imperial base. You and your husband had argued about it, but he eventually brought you around - Cara and Greef were your friends, and they’d always helped you when you needed it. It was time to return the favor, even if it meant you’d be fretting in the back of a schoolroom the entire time they were gone. 

Your husband’s return hadn’t been the triumphant victory you’d expected - Din had rushed in, wasting no breath on explanations, and taken you and the baby back to the ship for a hasty departure. It was just your luck that your escape from Nevarro had devolved into a dogfight with Imperial TIE-fighters, and your poor husband had endured no small amount of ranting from you when things settled back down. You were angry and worried, petrified by the thought of the experiments the Imperial warlords wanted to perform on your little one.

And now, you were approaching the planet that sheltered the Jedi you’d been tasked to find. The Jedi you were then supposed to hand your baby over to, because she was one of “his kind”. You felt a now-familiar wash of unease come over you, and worried your bottom lip to try and keep it in check.

“I’ve detected a beacon,” Din said, looking over at the display. Your baby sat up on the dash next to him, watching his movements with interest.

Din worked around him, pressing buttons and flipping switches in preparation for landing. “I’m gonna start the landing cycle,” he said. He glanced down at your son. “You better get back in your seat.”

The baby didn’t move from the dash, giving a soft coo of protest. You noticed the silver handle was back on the gear shift and smiled a little, knowing that was what held your little one’s attention enough for him to disregard his dad’s instruction. 

Din took his focus from the landing cycle long enough to realize his son hadn’t done as he was told.

“Hey, what did I tell you?” he said, in a mildly scolding tone. “Back in your seat.”

Your baby’s ears drooped. Setting aside your sewing project, you rose and gathered him into your arms.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you crooned, cuddling him close. “Your daddy’s so grumpy, isn’t he?”

He gave a babble of agreement, and Din huffed a laugh.

“I’ll be more grumpy if he tumbles off the dash while we’re landing.”

“That’s not true,” you told your baby. “Daddy would hold you and kiss it better. He couldn’t be grumpy with you if he tried.” As stoic as your husband seemed on the outside, he was as gentle as could be underneath all that armor. 

He flipped another switch and looked over his shoulder at you.

“You alright, cyare?” he asked gently. “You’ve been pretty quiet today.”

Usually you could be counted on to keep up a steady stream of conversation if you decided to stay with Din in the cockpit rather than roam around the ship. For this trip, though, you’d been uncharacteristically quiet. You knew Din shared your fears about finally meeting this Jedi, but you were completely tangled up in knots about it and hadn’t wanted to burden him.

You shook your head and held your baby closer. “I’m fine. Just... tired, I guess.”

You were a little run down, especially since morning sickness had started to give you some trouble, but you’d had much worse and would muscle through it. Besides, you couldn’t really afford to slow down, and both you and Din knew it.

“I would have thought you’d be relieved to have a little peace and quiet,” you teased lightly. He’d told you when you first started courting that the Crest had never heard so much talking until you came aboard.

He chuckled. “I like listening to you talk, cyare.” He eased the Crest into the atmosphere, a task that was second nature after so many years with the same ship. He glanced over at the little romper you’d laid on the dash.

“You finished it?” he asked.

You picked it up; your baby grabbed it in his clawed hand.

“Gentle,” you reminded him. “This is for ik’aad, remember?” Din had used the Mandalorian word for “baby” to tell your son your happy news, and it had stuck. Even now, your little one’s ears perked up at the nickname.

You smiled when he brushed his fingers over the fabric with a gentler touch and gave a soft coo.

“I haven’t finished it yet,” you said to Din. “I want to do some embroidery on it, if I can find the right thread - I was thinking little snowflakes along the collar.”

Your baby would be born during the winter on Sorgan, and even though you knew it was early yet, you’d taken great comfort and joy in working on this outfit. 

Din held out his hand. “May I see?”

You handed it to him, and it seemed delicate and very small in his big hands. He ran a finger over the collar.

“You’ve done a beautiful job so far, cyar’ika,” he said, and you felt your cheeks pink a little at the tenderness of his compliment.

“Thank you,” you said. You put your son down in your seat and took the romper from your husband’s hand.

“Stay put, and be good for dad,” you told your little one. “I’ll be right back.”

You gathered up your sewing odds and ends and took them down to the second level of the Crest, tucking them safely away in the small chest you kept your mending in. A shirt of Din’s that had torn at the shoulder seam was half-folded at the bottom, and you took a moment to neaten it and steady yourself before you went back up to the cockpit.

Ahsoka Tano was her name. It was the only thing you knew about her, besides the fact that she was a Jedi. You didn’t know what she looked like, or who she worked for, or how she would train your little one. She might be cruel and mean-tempered, for all you knew - how could you just hand your foundling over to her?

You and Din hadn’t really talked about it. Up until now, finding a Jedi had always seemed like something that might take years to accomplish. They were apparently very few and far between, and though you now knew it had been foolish to do so, you had never really given any great consideration to actually finding one, at least not so quickly. You and Din had loved your little one and cared for him as your own, even before the Armorer declared you a clan of three and heard your vows to adopt him. To hand him over to someone you knew nothing about - someone from an enemy race to the Mandalorians, no less - was unthinkable.

But you’d also vowed something else to the armorer that day. Together, you and Din had promised to find others of your foundling’s kind and return him to them. It was not a vow you took lightly, and you knew Din would no sooner break his promise than he would give up the Way. 

You straightened your shoulders and stood. No matter what happened on this planet, Din would need you. His struggle between the love he had for his foundling and the loyalty he had to the Way would not be an easy thing to overcome, and you wouldn’t leave him to face it alone.

You made your way back up to the cockpit, and you heard your little one babbling away before you came through the doors. Din was nodding and responded with interest despite the baby’s chatter not really meaning anything, and you felt your chest tighten. This was going to be harder than you thought.

- 

Din landed the Crest in a clearing among the forest of charred, skeletal trees surrounded by a sickly fog. You wondered if the air was even breathable. A quick check to the Crest’s display showed that it was, but the greenish tinge of the smog only added to your unease as the ship settled to the ground.

“I thought Bo-Katan said this was a forest planet,” you said.

Din started the shutdown cycle. “She did. Something must have happened to destroy the forests, and I’m guessing it wasn’t an accident. It probably has something to do with that city we passed over.”

You looked up at his helm as he stood. “The city we’re headed to?”

“Right again,” he said wryly. He looked over your shoulder to the dead trees outside. “Do you want to stay here while I go check out the city?”

As if on cue, a low groaning sound came from outside - only a very big creature could have made such a noise, and it didn’t sound like anything you’d like to meet on your own.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pressed closer to him. “No, I want to go with you.” You didn’t want to be on this planet anyway, and being separated from Din would only make it worse.

He ran a hand over your back to soothe you. “Okay,” he agreed. “Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded, but you didn’t pull away from him yet. His chestplate felt cool against your skin, and you allowed yourself a moment of comfort in his arms.

He cradled your face in his hands and leaned his helmet against your head. 

“It’s gonna be alright, cyar’ika,” he said gently. “We’ll just take it one step at a time, ok? We might not even find her here.”

You pulled back then, just enough to look up at his visor. You didn’t need to see his face to read the tension and unease he held in his whole body; he was just as hesitant to go looking for Ahsoka Tano as you were.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “One step at a time,” you agreed.

He nodded and relaxed a little. He gave you a final gentle tap of his helm against your head, a reassuring, comforting kiss, then beckoned to your little one.

“Come on, ad’ika,” he said, taking him from the seat. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

You followed Din to the second level, and he set your baby down after he’d come down the ladder to let him stretch his little legs. Your little one toddled after Din as the ramp lowered and revealed the bleak landscape you’d seen through the glass. The dead forest stretched in every direction, broken only by the great hulking shapes of slow-moving creatures in the distance.

Seeing his father had stopped at the foot of the ramp, your baby stopped too - top heavy and struggling to balance on the ramp, he sat midway down the slope with a little coo. You noticed he had the handle to the gear shift in his hand and was contentedly watching the way it shone in the weak sunlight.

“Did daddy give you that?” you asked, hunkering down next to him. He held it up to you and gave a soft babble.

Din turned. “Did I give him what?” He saw the ball in your baby’s hand and closed the distance between you in a few steps.

“What did I say about that?” Din scolded, extending his hand. The baby whined but reluctantly handed over his prize.

“This needs to stay in the ship,” Din chided. He tucked the ball into a pocket on his belt and straightened, looking out over the terrain again. You gave your son a consoling kiss on his soft ear; he chirped happily at you and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Not much to see out here,” Din said. He looked back at the two of you. “I’ve never had dealings with the Jedi before.”

Neither of you had, and his guess was as good as yours as to whether Jedi usually made their homes on planets as seemingly inhospitable as this. You knew nothing of their customs, their way of life - perhaps they didn’t even train ones as little as your baby, or were still hostile to Mandalorians. The only way to know would be to find the one you were looking for.

Din leaned down to scoop your baby up, cradling him in the crook of his arm, and offered his hand to you to help you stand. He gave your hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

“Let’s head into town,” he said. “See if we can pick up a lead.”

You stayed by his side as he walked to the edge of the clearing, and the Crest whirred as it drew the ramp back up and settled in to wait. You’d landed far enough away from the city to leave your ship better guarded against thieves, but it wouldn’t be a long walk to reach the city.

The forest closed in the further you went from your ship - even though they were rotted, the trees were numerous and large. They loomed in the fog, invisible until you were right on top of them, and it set your teeth on edge. When he was carrying the baby, Din preferred to have his other hand free to grab his blaster if the need should arise; to oblige him but still attempt to soothe your jangled nerves, you held a handful of his cloak and kept close to him that way.

All three of your kept quiet as you walked. You were in no mood for cheery conversation, and Din was well accustomed to silence on a bounty hunt. Even though Ahsoka Tano wasn’t a bounty, you knew your husband would employ those same skills to find her in the city; Din was an excellent hunter, and would most likely find her quickly. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Just before you reached the city, Din stopped and asked you to take the baby.

“Keep him close, cyare,” he said as your little one snuggled against your chest. “I don’t want either of you wandering.”

He knew he didn’t have to remind you, but you also knew it helped soothe his nerves. You put your hand on his arm, hoping to reassure him.

“We’ll stay close,” you told him. Though you were occasionally tempted to break his “stay by my side” rule on more colorful, inviting planets - you’d gotten a thorough reaming out from your husband one time after you’d wandered off and gotten lost in a bazaar on a Mid-Rim planet and made him sick with worry - you wanted to stick close on this planet.

“Should we do the nursemaid, this time?” you asked. A Mandalorian accompanied by a young woman and a baby would always call attention, and you often playacted to keep your identity as his wife a secret. You and your little one made him vulnerable, and were therefore a higher prize to be won or better bargaining chip to own.

Din’s posture stiffened.

“No,” he said firmly. “If anyone asks, we’ll tell them the truth. You’re my wife, and anyone who wants to get at you or our baby will have to go through me first.”

You felt a strange mix of apprehension and pride, hesitance and desire. His protective nature had always been something you loved about him, but he wasn’t usually this keyed up before a hunt. You reminded yourself this wasn’t a regular hunt you were on; neither of you had any idea what you’d find in the city, and you knew he’d been feeling the same nervousness you had as you came closer to finding what you sought.

“Okay,” you agreed. “We’ll tell them the truth.”

He seemed to relax a little - he must have known you’d picked up on his tone, and was thankful you’d taken it in stride. He brushed his hand over the baby’s head, then touched his fingers to your cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.”

You took a steadying breath and held your baby closer. “I love you too.”

Read chapter two!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic​​, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​, @stardust-galaxies​​, @theorganasolo​​, @qhbr2013​​ ♡

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​, @remmysbounty​​, @bitchin-beskar​​, @cosmicbreathe​​, @prettyboyskywalker​​, @happyxdayxbitch​​​ ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist! ♡

[unpeumacabre]

soaring dragon dancing phoenix - 龙飞凤舞: prologue

Yunmeng is no longer home for Wei Wuxian, for he is no longer welcome. And so when he visits he can always count on Jiang Cheng descending upon his head with the full strength of heaven's fury, to chase him out. But one day when he sneaks into Yunmeng again, days go by without Jiang Cheng making an appearance. Something has happened to Wei Wuxian's prickly shi-di, something that - once they reunite - they will find is far greater than they could ever have anticipated. Accompanied also by Wei Wuxian's dear friend (?) Lan Zhan and a Lan Xichen who has only just reluctantly left isolation, the four of them set out on a journey that will bring them across the greater part of China to the mystical Kunlun mountains of mythology - and more importantly, may bring them love, healing, and reconciliation.

If only Wei Wuxian could take his head out of his oblivious arse and start putting himself in other people's shoes for once...

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Wangxian, Xicheng, Wei Wuxian & Jiang Cheng

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 1.5k

next ->

One year after the events of the Guanyin Temple, and the death of former Chief Cultivator Lianfang-zun.

Lan Zhan!

I agree with what you said about Sect Leader Yao, that old fart. He wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit him on the arse. If I were you I’d have snuck into his room at night and shaved off his eyebrows – but then again, you’re Chief Cultivator, and you have to follow boring things like rules and protocol. Don’t worry, the next time I’m in Pingyang I’ll … It’s a secret! Look forward to the next time you have a discussion conference with that pig-headed old fool.

I’ve finally reached Yunmeng. Little Apple took such a long time to get started from the inn in Jiangling. I think he had a crush on one of the serving girls, to be honest. Even apples didn’t work to drag him away from her. I had to conjure a mirage of her all the way from Jiangling to Yunmeng to get him going – can you imagine that? One of these days I’ll have to find a nice little female ass to keep his little Little Apple happy … Hahaha! I can practically see you rolling your eyes at me now, Lan Zhan. You still can’t take a dirty joke after all.

Anyway, I digress. It’s nice to be back in Yunmeng and be able to pick all the lotus pods I want and to flirt with all the pretty Yunmeng girls, although none of them are as pretty as you are, of course. You’d make a big stir if you came to Yunmeng – you should visit with me one of these days when you’re free! Although I know of course you have responsibilities as Chief Cultivator etc etc but I promise you it’ll be fun! One of these days I’ll come kidnap you. Then Lan Qiren, that old man, would really have an aneurysm, ha! I’d kidnap you just to see his reaction.

Don’t worry about me, I’m talking nonsense as usual. I wouldn’t really kidnap you, unless I was really bored. And Jiang Cheng would probably beat my ass for trying. Honestly, it surprises me that I haven’t had the honour of Jiang Cheng’s company yet. Somehow, he always knows the moment I step into Yunmeng – it’s like he has a spell set up to go off whenever I’m in the vicinity??? And he never fails to turns up for an hour or two just to shout at me, thrash Zidian around a bit and tell me to go back to Gusu. Then he storms off somewhere to drink tea or something. I swear he’s going to die of high blood pressure one of these days.

Well, I expect I’ll see him around. He’s bound to turn up sometime or other. Looking forward to your reply, and counting every one of your twenty words,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan!

Thank you for expressing your concern for Little Apple’s wellbeing. He’s eating well (as usual) and living happily in the city stables where I left him. He has a new crush on the stable boy though, but I’m not worried about that – it seems like his affections are as transient as floating smoke and passing clouds. He seems to be like his former master in the sense of being indiscriminate with regards to his choice of partner, which makes me wonder why he’s taken such an intense aversion to me. I guess it’s just the same old story with me and animals all over again.

It’s my third day in Yunmeng, and still no sign of Jiang Cheng anywhere. Perhaps he’s simply busy with some night hunt or other and can’t be bothered to whip my ass into shape. I’ve been visiting his favourite haunts the past few days but no luck – it seems like he’s really busy this time. I’m starting to worry, and although I never thought I’d ever say this, I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been the longest I’ve gone without hearing him call me a fucking idiot, haha!

Anyway I have a funny story to tell! Yesterday I went to investigate rumours of walking corpses at the base of Yunmeng Mountain. Apparently some farmers came across them and ran away but one of them was caught and eaten.

But guess what, Lan Zhan? Actually, it was nothing more than a group of hermits who’d come down from Yunmeng Mountain five days ago after meditating in seclusion for three years, and they were doing their Bagua ritual circle walk around one of the dove trees at the base of the mountain. They hadn’t bathed once in those three years, and so when the farmers came upon them and saw them chanting and moaning and pacing around the tree they were mistaken for walking corpses! Hahahaha how ridiculous is that??? Anyway I cleared up the misunderstanding. The farmer who was apparently eaten fell down a cliff when he was trying to escape from the “corpses” and broke his leg, so the hermits rescued him and patched him up. He was perfectly fine. I talked to them and they seemed like a pretty normal bunch to me – they were quite a big group when they came down the mountain at first apparently but then most of them decided to go down south and back home instead of lingering in Yunmeng. That’s about all the excitement I’ve had so far, I think.

Well, anyway, thank you for the twenty-one words you used in your reply. You have gotten quite adept at teasing me, haven’t you? Looking forward to how else you may surprise me next,

Wei Wuxian

***

Lan Zhan,

No, I don’t think Jiang Cheng fell off a cliff too. As much as you might wish for it to happen, he’s still my brother an important sect leader, you know! Anyway I already checked all the cliffs around the mountain before I received your letter so it couldn’t possibly be so.

Besides, I went to Lotus Pier earlier today – just to check on how things are going, you know, in case they need my help or something, nothing to do with Jiang Cheng. I just stayed outside the gates because I thought Jiang Cheng would probably descend from the heavens on a cloud and break my legs the moment I stepped foot into Lotus Pier, but some of the disciples spotted me and asked me what I was doing there. They said there have been people disappearing just outside Yunmeng, to the southwest and twenty li outside the main city, and when some of the Yunmeng Jiang cultivators went to investigate a few days ago some of them disappeared. So Jiang Cheng decided to take a few more of the Yunmeng Jiang disciples and investigate himself.

Since I have some free time, I’ve decided to help them out. They’ve been gone for four days already – the beast must truly be a handful indeed. It might be fun to go and help, although I think Jiang Cheng might spontaneously explode when he sees my face. Well, maybe the explosion will end up killing the monster, who knows.

It’s quite odd, though; some of the disciples who escaped even said they saw the spectre of Jin Guangyao, that wily old fox, hanging around the cave where they were attacked. Although of course that is impossible, for he is probably still trapped in Nie Mingjue’s coffin, fighting a battle till the end of time. Well, I guess I’ll see for myself if what they saw was true or not.

I had not known that you were capable of silk embroidery. Your skill is indeed fine – as expected of the esteemed Second Master Lan! I shall treasure your gift until the end of time. The cherry blossoms flowered today, and they made me think of you. I wonder if you still remember visiting Tanzhou with me when we were looking for the remaining pieces of the Yin metal? Was it your first time attending such a festival? You looked so surprised by the petals raining down on you then! I miss those times. 

I will write to you again tomorrow when I have rescued Jiang Cheng from the human-eating monster. I will make sure to give you a good account of his face when he sees me there to interfere with his night hunt, ha!

***

Dear Lan Wangji Hanguang-jun Mr Chief Cultivator Sir,

I am writing this letter to you because I know you to be a good friend of Wei Wuxian. Just today, I visited Lotus Pier and found that my uncle has been missing for a week, and Wei Wuxian with him for two of those days. They have apparently gone in pursuit of a human-eating monster twenty li southwest of the main city limits of Yunmeng. It must have been a fierce creature indeed to have ensnared both my uncle and Wei Wuxian

Unfortunately, as I am currently extremely and regrettably tied up in Lanling Jin sect matters, this humble person would like to humbly request for your help in locating and possibly rescuing them. Thank you.

Best regards, yours sincerely and most humbly,

Sect Leader Jin Ling, Lanling Jin sect

[bearbaitmegs]

I know I don’t have a lot of active followers here, but I’ve been going though some major changes in my life recently (both good and/or disorienting), and one of the things I am aiming to achieve with that is to reestablish myself online in some small way. Just casually, socially. I used to enjoy interacting and making friends online and some of my oldest friends remain people that I met through the web.

I hope these sporadic personal posts don’t bother you.

I think part of these changes that I’m aspiring to involve getting into the habit of simply posting more. I honestly am unsure of where to migrate to online outside of Tumblr. I’ve ditched Facebook except to check on businesses I’m planning on visiting and occasionally to sell something. I’m only on Snapchat and Instagram to follow one person. I haven’t logged into DeviantArt in almost 10 years. Yahoo 360 is long gone. Adjusting to Discord has been a slow and lurking process because it reminds me of some particularly haunting memories and it lacks most topics I’d be interested in (publicly, at least). Twitter never fit right. I refuse to engage with people on Ao3 or ffn because I’m very hesitant to engage with people who has the same media interests as I do because I’ve had far too much fandom-related trauma and drama and I still have trouble forming friend groups despite 9 years of distance

My brother has an undiagnosed and untreated personality disorder and it has often felt like his drama has been my defining feature for almost 2 years. I have gotten tired of carrying his monkey into all of my relationships and conversations, especially when trying to make new ones. I wish I had custody of my nephew because he and his ex are both sucky and neglectful, but all I can do is wait until the kid turns 18 or asks about emancipation. My brother deliberately seeks out relationships that renew and reinforce his past traumas in order to legitimize his unwillingness to move on and I hold him at least partially responsible for our parents’ decline in emotional, financial, and physical health. I recently opted to go for No Contact/Very Low Contact with him and it’s been freeing and refreshing and I feel immensely happier and more motivated. 

I frequently feel like I don’t have anything worth saying or cannot really think of anything to say. It’s a work in progress. I have always carried a sense of awkwardness and that continues to persist into my 30s, despite the fact that I generally consider myself a confident person. I’ve been in a romantic relationship for 5 years and it fulfills 95% of my social and emotional needs, which... I think has led to leaving many of my other relationships to pasture.

Instinctively, I want to reach out and rectify all of these relationships all at once. Of course, it doesn’t work that way, and in trying to pace myself I find I often procrastinate. I set myself a goal of reaching out to a friend per week, but it’s more like one every two weeks. I know some of us will pick up where we left off like we’ve never been apart. Some of my friends will have moved on and our re-connection will separate again because we’re just different now and I’m honestly not bothered by that. It’s normal. I just hesitate because I don’t know where to start even though the script should be so easy. I feel annoying and needy. “Hey, I hope you’re well! I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I was thinking of you today every day.” Ugh.

I’m pretty financially, mentally, and physically stable and have been for a while. I like my job and I’m paid very well! I like me! I like my hobbies and my apartment! I’ve worked very hard to get here and there’s really only a few key things I want to improve upon.

But somehow I feel like I’m rediscovering myself again. Like I was shut out of something and didn’t even realize there was a door. I’ve missed something. I’m naturally comfortable alone and tend to be willfully obtuse about things that don’t involve me only to get startled by them later.

I moved back to my hometown 2 years ago in order to introduce my partner to my family and be around for some major family events. It was supposed to be a 4 month summer visit. The family drama just never stopped and I’m just...still here. I can’t wait to leave, but I also don’t resent my hometown as much as I did when I left. It’s changing immensely, but so am I. I definitely won’t be able to afford to stay.

I had a patio garden over the summer and, while we hardly got our money’s worth out of it, it was pretty and tasty and fulfilling. A few of the plants are overwintering with us.

I still haven’t lived somewhere that allows me a pet, but I keep saving stray cats. 

I have way more fabric than I know what to do with from old clothes and dead ideas, but I finally tuned up my sewing machine and bought a set of sewing machine feet and I have lots of plans and ideas that I just need to sit down and actually execute. Especially embroidery.

I finally spent the damn $70 on an old school drawing tablet and took the time to download some free art programs. A modern tablet is still too much to budget for and a mouse and MS Paint is not enough. I do not know why it took me 10 freaking years when I’ve spent far more money on far less desirable luxuries.

I am hoping to find a decent enough mountain bike at a manageable price to do a long-distance cycling trip next year. If I don’t, I’ll divert to hiking a long-distance trail. I’ve never stopped craving spending weeks and weeks out in the woods with an overstuffed backpack since my first trek in 2016. I’m willing to go out of my way and budget hard to make it a reality on an annual basis.

I’m slowly picking away at my original story, JatGSL, a 10+ year Work In Progress, and I finally have a setting and characters that I feel good about and have a lot of fun imagining. I’m afraid to say much about it. It has dying androids and mushrooms and mythology and domesticated seals and braille and it takes place on a melted Antarctica. But my writing is a muscle long neglected and I don’t know if I’ll ever really get it back.

I sometimes think about moving some of my old fanfics over to Ao3 so they won’t be lost, but my old penname carries weight I’d rather not pick up and I don’t want to add anything else to JKR’s legacy and some of the things I wrote when I was 17-22 have aged pretty poorly. So, I hesitate and debate and do nothing.

I keep having simple, but neat ideas that nobody out in the market seems to be doing/making, but I lack the connections and knowledge to do anything with them.

My romantic partner is an amazingly perfect fit. Absolutely well-fitting, in-sync, mind-blowingly complementary in every way. I increasingly worry it might not last because my partner has 1 (ONE) key issue that I just can’t live with long term and if they can’t figure out a healthy way to cope I don’t know if I can go another 5 years dealing with it. I grew up with it. I won’t live with it.

It often feels odd to talk about myself (even here. even now) because I feel so much happier than I seem to be describing myself.

[toraashi]

princess au ft. chuuya nakahara prt 2

Title: Untitled Princess AU prt 2

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Genre: fluff, swearing, horribly written ending and lots of cringe, nothing bad though. Um also aristocratic standards of beauty are mentioned rip

Word Count: 2,221

Author’s Note: I must’ve gotten hella tired when I originally wrote this because the ending is literally garbage but I don’t want to edit it right now, so here it is for you. Love you all thank you for joining Chuuya princess AU brainrot hours

 She stumbled out of the carriage awkwardly, desperately grabbing her escort for balance. 

“Oi!” Of course, the unsuspecting ginger was caught off guard as she tumbled to the ground. 

“My lady!” The driver exclaimed, but was shot down by the bodyguard’s sharp glare. With a huff, she stood back up, brushing off her dress.

“I’m definitely not suited to this life. Chuuya, why do I have to go to every single damn ball my father is invited to?” The man chuckled.

“Something tells me you’ve been around the staff too much.” He held out his hand, eliciting a soft blush. 

“Look, Chuu-Chuu, I can walk by myself.” 

“Clearly not, and make sure you don’t call me that in front of anybody.”

“Why? Does it embarrass you? Chuu-Chuu! Chuu-Chuu-” With a low growl, he scooped the shorter being up, tossing her over his shoulder and twirling around.

“Shut up! You sound like a goddamn train!” The girl squeaked, giggling as he tickled her sides. The entire scene was entirely unprofessional and illegal, but adorable nonetheless. The duo couldn’t help themselves, for each time they approached each other, explosions equivalent to bombs exploded in their hearts. 

How unsightly.

The king’s right hand flitting around with his liege's daughter.

Upon setting her down, she rested her hand on his elbow, allowing him to walk her inside. 

“Erg. These pins hurt my head.” Before she could reach up to yank them out, her loyal bodyguard caught her gloved hand. 

“The boss won’t be too happy if your hair’s all wild and out, you know.” Pouting, she whined,

“I know, Chuuya, but I hate it!”

“Yeah, well, you’ve got to do it. No prince is gonna want a princess who is all messy.”

“But what if I don’t want a prince?” Her murmured words were enough to cause his breath to catch in his throat. They both knew what she was implying, but it was all for naught.

“[Name]-” 

“Don’t even start with me. I already know.” With a reluctant sigh, he squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Are you walking me in?” the redhead huffed, an endearing pink stain coating his cheeks.

“No! That’d be inappropriate!” She fell silent before murmuring,

“I don’t feel comfortable walking in alone. Besides, you’re my bodyguard. It’s no secret that my father is very protective of me. How is it inappropriate?” 

“Because a suitor is supposed to walk in with you!” his hissed words were strained as if he was struggling to form them.

“Introduce yourself as an executive then! I’ve never had to announce myself like this before, Chuuya. Please?” The male hesitated, falling prey to her vulnerable tone and visage. He gave in before he realized it, adjusting her precariously placed tiara and holding out his arm. 

“The things I do for you…” Gingerly, the princess placed her gloved fingers on his arm. 

“Like this?” With a softened gaze, he nodded, walking her up the vibrant crimson carpet. Each movement felt like he was trekking through an endless swamp of cement. Chuuya had no idea how this was going to reflect on his flawless track record, but in his heart, he knew he'd do it a thousand times over if it provided her with some semblance of comfort.

They approached the inner door, a pair of servants swinging them open at the sight of their invitation cards. The ballroom below them was exceedingly elegant, chandeliers glittering of the vast, domed ceilings, gold lining every rampart and ledge. Intricate paintings and murals were displayed above them, and the pair was awestruck at the magnificence. They tentatively walked forward, revealing the majority of the guests, who were all gazing up at the balcony expectantly. The shorter being beside him stiffened with anxiety, her delicately placed hand shaking on his arm. He strode confidently up to the announcer, speaking each word for his charge.

“Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” The weasel-faced man cast him a strange look, but turned, clearing his throat and bellowing the words.

“Her royal highness, Princess [Name] of Yokohama.” the room applauded, but Chuuya could sense the gossip formulating at the oddity before them: King Mori’s heiress attending with her simpleton bodyguard. Chuuya tensed, resisting the urge to protectively leap in front of the lovely lady. 

The walk down the grand spiral staircase was worse than the walk up. All eyes were tracing every movement they made, and it was clear that the attention was searing [Name]’s nerves. After years of constantly being around her, he had learned to recognize what each finger twitch she made represented. 

“Ah! My lady!” A tall blond man approached them immediately after her crystal slippers made contact with the marble floor.  “You look absolutely ravishing in that gown, has anybody ever told you that?” [Name] gave a tight, polite smile.

“Lord Steinbeck. I’m sorry to say that you’re not the first. A very handsome man told me moments before we arrived.” Chuuya felt a smirk touch his lips and desperately tried to hide his oncoming smug expression. 

“Really? Another suitor, perhaps? Surely you rejected him in that feather-soft tone of yours.” 

“Surely.” The male drew closer, dangerously close.

“My lady, what would you do if I proposed you send your “escort” away while I take you around the palace?” Any stray eavesdroppers would surely not think much of Steinbeck’s proposition, but Chuuya knew exactly what kind of man he was and what “touring the palace” really implied, and it made his temper snap.

“Oi-”

“Well, I’d probably reject you in my fancy feather-soft tone.” Steinbeck looked sincerely shocked.

“Hm? You’d rather be constantly hounded by your father’s lackeys all night long?”

“U-uh… of course not! You know that very well, Steinbeck.” His icy blue eyes were blown with pride and mischief.

“I knew you’d relent, princess.” Chuuya felt a growl rumble in his throat, his eyes burning with rage when he lugged her away from him.

“Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You don’t get to do that.”

“Oh? And what say do you have in the matter?”

“Last I checked, it’s my duty to protect the princess, and you don’t seem to have any good intentions in mind.”

“I sense that there’s a bit more to the story,” he smirked deviously, “Isn’t there, Chuuya Nakahara? Escorting a dignified lady, not to mention a princess is a far more intimate action than a bodyguard and executive should partake in.” The man’s fingers trailed a sensuous path down her smooth skin, but she pulled away.

“I did not ask for your affection, My Lord. The affairs of my kingdom are most certainly none of your concern. Perhaps you do things differently in your department, but my staff is eternally devoted to my father and me, so this ordeal is hardly out of the ordinary. I strongly suggest you educate yourself before you make such a bold and faulty accusation.” With a fiery glare, she turned and marched off, her skirts rustling behind her. As was in her nature, she tripped over the indigo hem of them.

“Damn these skirts!” Chuuya quickly recovered from his burst of fury, rushing to her aid.

“It’s unseemly to curse in public, My Lady.” He murmured, balancing her.

“It’s also unseemly to insult my father’s prime business partner’s cousin, Chuuya.” A scoff burned his throat. 

“As if I’d let him taint you like that.” 

“Only him?” Her voice suddenly got timid as she swept herself into a nearby love-seat, running her delicate fingers over the gold embroidery.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” She flushed, “Eventually it’s bound to happen, you are aware, right?”

“Maybe so, but like hell I’m gonna let it be with some nauseating bastard like Steinbeck.” A small smile colored her cheeks.

“It’s unseemly to swear in public, Chuu-Chuu.” 

It’s unseemly to make me fall for you this hard. He thought, turning his face to hide his minuscule flush.

Throughout the course of the ball, many a man asked for a dance, but she deftly refused all of them, lounging in silence with her red-headed companion. 

“[Name], you need to accept someone.”

“You know how dreadful I am at dancing!”

“So?” She let out an exasperated groan.

“I’m not suited for these sorts of things. I’m not elegant like those duchesses and queens. Not to mention I only seem to feel comfortable around you.” Chuuya felt his heartstrings tug. “Chuuya?” 

“Yeah?”

“Have you seen my father anywhere?”

“No, surprisingly. He’s likely treating Elise.”

“Then I have a proposition.” Training his eyes on her, he examined her determined expression. “Let’s go somewhere else.” 

“[Name]...”

“Just somewhere quieter… please, Chuuya?” His name on her tongue was like a choir of angels to his ears, and with a relenting sigh, he caved.

They finally stopped in the vast library, books lining each wall, a cozy fireplace surrounded by expensive sofas. Normally she’d run her hands over the spines of the novels, gushing about her favorite ones with endless delight, but instead, she tugged him into an obscure corner, looping her arms around his body.

“Chuuya…”

“I knew there was more to this escapade.” 

“Please. Just let me hold you. I know this is taboo, but we’ve known each other for our entire lives. I can’t ignore the feelings I’ve developed for you. I know you feel it too, so please, indulge me just this once. I love you. I love you.” Her grip around his waist tightened in sheer desperation, and the urge to kiss her was more powerful than ever. Her sweet vanilla scent pervaded his nose; her warm body was the perfect size for his arms to wind around. 

“This is impossible.” 

“I know, Chuuya!” Warm wet splotches seeped through his shirt, and the male lifted her tear-stained face, gazing intently into her honey-sweet optics with his fluorescent sapphire ones. 

“Chuuya?” He felt frustration, despair, and endless longing contort his soul. She was so close, yet so far.

“Princess.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Chuuya.” Her soft words seared his mind with white-hot streaks of temptation. “I don’t care about propriety anymore, please, Chuuya.” Her face grew dangerously close and he could feel her minty fresh breath waft over his face. 

“[Name]...” Finally collapsing, he let his mouth capture hers, but he quickly got caught up in her and her taste. His hand flew to her waist, the texture of the gown silky beneath his fingertips. Leaning closer, she placed her hands on his firm shoulders. Suddenly, she bit down on his bottom lip, fingers sliding up his neck and into his ginger locks. Chuuya involuntarily groaned, backing her up against the wall, his kisses gradually growing rougher. Stringing through his hair, the girl in his arms knocked his hat off, letting out breathy moans. As if against his will, his mouth moved down, smooching a trail of fire down to her jaw.

“God, I love you…”

“Chuuya…” As he showered her in affection, he let his endearment for the princess pour out in waves. As wrong as he knew it was, the sensation of being kissed by someone you loved was euphoric to him. The way she whispered his name was honey to his ears. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  They split instantly, but Chuuya still rested his hand on her shoulder protectively. 

“Steinbeck.”

“I suppose I was right in thinking something more than a platonic relationship was blossoming between you two. A princess and her father’s right hand, how scandalous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” The man gave a sardonic smile.

“Wouldn’t I?” Chuuya growled, stepping forward with less than proper intentions.

“Wait!” Both men glanced at her questioningly. “Don’t endanger him, please. I’ll get my father to accept your marriage proposal.”

“No. I won’t let you wed this scoundrel.” With a melancholy smile, she whispered,

“You’re not my father, Chuuya.”

“But it’s my job to watch over your stupid ass, and I’ll kill him before I let him even touch you.”

“Chuuya-”

“All right, I accept, but any tricks and your secret romance will be mercilessly exposed.” The ginger shoved the girl behind him, fury burning in his veins.

“Over my dead body.”

“Is that so?” Chuuya seethed at his words. “If you even touch me, you’ll create an enemy out of a business partner.”

“It’s not worth it, Chuu.” 

“You are worth it.”  Her breath caught.

“You’d lose everything.”

“You’re everything.” A chuckle escaped her smooth lips.

“Exactly.” With an unsatisfied and murderous glare glazing his crystalline eyes, he reluctantly backed down.

“Then it’s a deal? I guess that means we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow, correct? Without your brainless bodyguard, of course.” In an impulsive burst of adrenaline, Chuuya glowed red, sending a bookshelf tumbling on top of the blond. 

“Chuuya!”

“What? He valiantly saved you from the falling bookcase. Why’re you crying to me?” She was stunned, her [e/c] eyes wide and her hair falling out from its precarious updo. Her shining tiara was lopsided and she smiled. It was such a lovely smile and Chuuya could hardly believe that he was lucky enough to see it every day. 

“Chuuya, I know this isn’t safe, but I want to make this work with you, will you at least try?” And with that one sentence, their lips were pressed together once more.

MASTERLIST

Request Here!

[purplesurveys]

1177

survey by joybucket

Have you _____ during this pandemic?

Worn a mask? I mean, of course. I put one on even when I’m only picking up deliveries from my doorstep.

got tested for coronavirus? Never. I also hope I’ll never have to go through this, I don’t want a stick up my nose and throat D:

known someone who died from the virus? Personally? Too many people at this point. 

gotten the COVID vaccine? Not yet, but I have many relatives who’ve already gotten theirs, my mom and grandmother included, so at least. I know my employer has a plan in place over the next few weeks or months, so I’m just currently waiting for updates on their end.

started a new hobby? Yeah, I started on embroidery late last year. I haven’t been able to keep it up, but I’m still very much interested and want to go back to it soon. I also plan on getting one or two new Klaypel kits so I can finally replace and throw out the ones Gabie gave to me as gifts.

hated being stuck at home? Yeah, especially during the start when there seemed to be no end in sight. When they heightened quarantine protocols again earlier this month, that also made me feel aggravated about being stuck at home indefinitely since I had already started going out on weekends for self-dates.

worn a mask someone made for you? No one has made a mask for me, but one of my uncles got me a supply of a certain kind of face mask that I didn’t initially use.

sewn your own mask? No.

purchased masks at the store? Not me personally, but my dad regularly buys a supply for the family to use.

purchased a KN95 or N95 mask? Again, not me. But we regularly have a stock at home, along with the blue surgical face masks.

complimented someone on their mask? I don’t think so. I barely pay attention especially towards mask designs.

protested mask-wearing? ????? My name’s not Karen.

complained on Facebook? Nothing mask-related, but I have definitely complained about the government’s negligence and lack of proactivity about this entire situation.

read a book? I started on Midnight Sun which my parents got for me, but I never finished it. I got busy immediately the week after since I got accepted into my internship, and it was also because I was dealing with my breakup and could not focus enough to read for more than 5 minutes.

had an event canceled you had been looking forward to? My college graduation, which I’ll forever stay bitter about.

stocked up on toilet paper? I don’t think so. My parents didn’t believe in panic-buying.

been to the store when it was crowded? I do remember the mall being packed when I went last-minute Christmas shopping. Not to a crazy extent, but there was still quite a number of people.

been to the store when the toilet paper aisle was empty? N/A. We don’t have toilet paper aisles, but all stores have hand sanitizers and temperature checks by their entrance.

lost your job? I didn’t have a job before the pandemic because I had still been a student when everything started.

worked from home? Yup, and still on an WFH arrangement until now.

still had to go to work? I’ve had to go two times, but that was because it was absolutely necessary to go to the office to get the work done. My employer is pretty strict about this anyway and if something could be done at home, they’d decline the request.

went to a protest at your state's capital building? Well we don’t have states so this isn’t really relevant to me. Should a credible org plan a protest against the government though, I’d be interested in going.

watched the news for updates on the virus? We keep the TV on during dinner, at which time the news is always on. Whether I want to or not, I always get updates on the Covid situation in the country.

wondered if you had covid? Yeah, when I got extremely sick in May last year.

not left the house for a week? Way more than a week.

watched YouTube videos? YouTube is pretty much a part of my daily routine, with or without the virus.

spent a whole day watching movies? I’ve only watched one movie since the beginning of the pandemic.

cleaned your house from top to bottom? Not me, but my mom.

ordered something online? Too much crap.

ordered a pizza? I’ve gotten pizza a few times for my family, yeah. I remember ordering from Pizza Hut, Motorino, and most recently, Yellow Cab.

prayed to God?

completely forgotten a holiday that you normally celebrate? Nah, I usually remember when holidays are because that means I get a day off hahaha.

voted in an election? There haven’t been any elections that have taken place since the start of the pandemic.

gotten to know your neighbors? Somewhat. I only say hi to them and greet them a good morning/afternoon when I walk the dogs, but I don’t initiate conversations.

sanitized everything in your home? We always do this, especially when a package arrives for someone in the family.

wrote someone a letter? Started one but never finished because I soon realized it wouldn’t be worth it.

wished this pandemic were over? Don’t we all?

been surprised this pandemic has lasted so long? Yeah, I definitely thought things would be normal by now.

worried about catching the virus? I think the worry exists for everyone. I just wouldn’t say I’ve ever gotten super anxious and panicky about it. I feel pretty resigned at this point and just want everything to be over, so I can finally have the life I was meant to have back.

stayed home because you didn't want to catch the virus? That, and because I was required to stay home to begin with.

been to church? We watch a service on YouTube every Sunday morning.

watched an online church service? ^ Yeah, that’s what I meant haha oops.

been stopped by a police officer? No, but there was one time I was cleaning up Cooper’s tray and there happened to be a village guard cycling by our street, and he just kindly reminded me to put on a mask or shield since I had forgotten to do it.

seen a lot of police cars patrolling the area? No. I would definitely be pissed off if this happened - especially in a residential subdivision - and share a pic on social media to alert everyone about the unnecessary mess that is the police.

had someone cough on you out in public? No. But again, this would also piss me off and I wouldn’t hesitate to confront the asshole who would do something like that.

has someone stand less than six feet away from you while waiting in line? Always. Some people here can still be unbelievably stubborn.

had to use an inhaler? Never needed one.

been to the doctor? Yeah, to have my blood and urine tests examined.

had increased asthma and/or allergy symptoms? I have neither.

felt like you were fighting a virus? Like I said, I got a bad fever sometime last year. Even though I didn’t show any of the common Covid symptoms (e.g. I had wet cough instead of a dry cough), I felt as if I was rotting away lmao. I could barely stand up and I felt like fainting the second I would raise my head.

been diagnosed with the coronavirus? No.

felt lonely? It’s natural.

went somewhere with a friend? Just a couple of times. I went to UPTC with Andi at the start of the year, then back in Feb I went to Perfy’s with several friends, well aware of our ignorance but badly craving for a sense of normalcy for even just a night.

attended an online event? BANG BANG COOOOOOOOOON. Best 8 hours of my life during the pandemic thus far.

had a business in your area close down? Like the people I know who’ve died from the virus, too many.

received a stimulus check? Hasn’t happened.

received food stamps? No, and I don’t think we have that system in place here. The government just lets the hungry go hungrier.

applied for disability? No, not applicable.

applied for food assistance? No, thankfully we haven’t reached this point.

visited a food pantry? ^

had a fever? Just back in May. Hasn’t happened again since.

believed a conspiracy theory about the virus? Cringe, no.

had to take online classes? When the whole world was still at a loss on how to handle a global pandemic, aka early March, I briefly took Zoom sessions for some of my classes. But it proved to be difficult what with many students struggling with internet connections or being stuck somewhere without their school supplies, so my university canceled the sem altogether not long after and gave everyone general passing grades.

ate at a restaurant? I did a few times. I frequented coffee shops rather than restaurants, though.

walked through a drive-thru? I’ve...driven through a drive-thru, but not walk.

had your mask fog up your glasses? Every damn time I get out of the car, hahaha.

had to go to the hospital because of covid? Nope, not for myself or for someone else.

had to go to the hospital for a different reason? For my fever.

used hand sanitizer? At least once a day.

felt encouraged, joyful, or blessed? Now, especially. Things are starting to look up, at least for my own life.

[spacebeyonce]

and wip wednesday time part 2, the remix, botw edition

another 2k taster. obviously it’s the Long Link Oneshot, it’s the only botw thing I’m working on lmao. the central theme is changing a little, and I’m still struggling with it, but it’s slowly existing. that’s something, right? so anyway - blood moons, am I right.

After that day, more of the Rito began to go to Vah Medoh now that it was calm, to explore the Beast that was supposed to protect them, and to visit the spirit of the Champion that still piloted it.

Link decided to spend a couple more days in Rito Village; there were a few things that he wanted to do before he returned to the east. He ran around completing a few errands for people. He spent time with Kass’ wife Amali and their daughters, joining them for their singing practice and discovering a shrine along the way. He found more shrines on top of that, venturing out a bit into the Hebra tundra. Link could start to feel a weight in his chest and knew that he would have to make some time to pray to the Goddess for stamina, for strength. He would need all the strength he could get to complete this task. Though he did accomplish calming a Divine Beast, that didn’t mean he was done – far from it.

On his third day in Rito Village, Link woke up and knew that it was time to leave.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something in the air; it felt electric, made his hackles rise and his base instincts whisper that he needed to run. Run from what, he didn’t know, but he was…unsettled. It felt like the presence that had possessed Vah Medoh when it had been taken, but more.

So he packed his bag. Quickly said his goodbyes and went to the stable to request that they send his horse to the stable at Dueling Peaks. It would be faster for him if he used the slate, and he doesn’t mind traveling by foot once he gets to his destination. He wonders if everyone else can sense that feeling hanging in the air, and if they felt as skittish as he did.

He gives Chestnut an apple and a skritch behind her ears, promising in whispers that they would see each other soon, and then he was gone, whisps of light carried by the wind.

Kakariko was quiet when Link appeared, and he stared over the small village at the top of the hill, listening to the faint clink of wood chimes and wondering if this foreboding feeling that hung in the air today would follow him wherever he went.

Dorian and Cado gave him sharp nods of greeting when he approached, their faces drawn and wary, and Link pressed his lips into a thin line as he went up the stairs.

Impa looked up from the scroll she was reading as he entered, and she smiled. “I was wondering when you would show up.” She said in greeting as he took a seat at her feet. “I take it your journey west went well?”

It did. Link nodded, a pleased smile curling his lips. Vah Medoh has been freed. And I remembered a few things. It’s been…productive.

Impa smiled, and it looked like his news had taken some weight off her. “Good,” she sighed. “Very good, Link. And you remembered something? Excellent – come here, help me up.”

She held out her hand, and Link quickly scrambled to his feet to help Impa down from her tower of pillows. Her hand was so small in his, and it was thin and soft; it reminded him of the softness of the tunic he had to wear when he woke up, like one touch would send it crumbling. But Link could feel Impa’s strength in the way she gripped at his hand, and how warm she was, and he knew he didn’t have to worry.

“There, now.” She pointed at a chest up on the shelf. “Grab that for me so I can open it.”

Link was about to say that she didn’t have to bother, that he could do it, but a sharp glance had him quickly grabbing the chest and placing it at her feet. “Thank you. Alright, here –”

The chest opens with a soft creak, and Impa places a soft bundle of blue cloth into his hands. It was a tunic, dyed a shade of blue that reminded Link of the sky, with an embroidered pattern on the chest shaped like a sword. The mere sight of it sent Link’s heart twisting in his chest, and he tried to keep his hands from shaking as he held onto it. He could feel it, how important this tunic was to him.

“I’ve kept it all this time.” Impa explains quietly. “It had to be repaired in some places – it was a bit worse for wear by the time I had gotten it – but the embroidery…that’s still the same.”

Link traced a finger along the pattern, feeling the bump and ridge of every stitch.

“Princess Zelda made that tunic herself, you know.” She continued, a small smile on her face. “Down to the stitching.”

It felt like an electric shock, the realization that he was holding something that the princess had made, something that she touched. It was surreal. He pulled the cloth to his chest, throat working as he tried to find the words.

“…Thank you.” He finally whispered.

Impa’s smile grew at the sound of his voice. “It is my pleasure. Take time to rest before you go. And –”

Her smile dimmed some, eyes tightening at the corners. “If you do leave the village, be careful. I can feel it in the air; tonight…tonight will be a Blood Moon.”

A Blood Moon? Link didn’t know what that was, but judging by the look on Impa’s face, it wasn’t anything good. He had planned to start heading to the Zora today, but…he would take Impa’s advice, and rest for the day instead.

He bought a room at the inn for the evening and decided to spend the day walking around the village; he ran into one of Dorian’s daughters, Koko, who was running down the hill from the shrine. She looked anxious, and it hurt Link’s heart, the thought that whatever was hanging in the air was affecting her, too. So to take her mind off of it, they spent a few hours cooking, Link showing the little Sheikah a few recipes he learned in Tabantha. He saw Pikango painting by the Goddess statue and got a lead on another location for a memory; he made sure to make a reminder for himself to seek it out when he was able, making a note in his journal and placing a marker on the slate. After that, he went up the hill towards the shrine and the forest beyond it to pay the Great Fairy Cotera a visit to make a request to strengthen his clothing.

He liked Cotera; she was always nice to him and really fun to talk to, and her grove was always full of flowers and vegetables that never seemed to run out. Link wondered if the whole place was magic. He showed Cotera the tunic he just received, asking what he needed to make it stronger, and the fairy pointed him towards a small cluster of flowers – silent princesses.

He couldn’t explain it, but – there was something about those flowers. Looking at the flowers and their vibrant blue petals, Link felt…nostalgic.

Sad.

It probably had something to do with his murky past; Link hoped he would find the answers soon.

He admired the tunic after Cotera worked her magic, sitting at the base of the fountain and admiring the way some of the threads glimmered in the light, like they were made of fine metal. Cotera rested against the edge of her fountain and stared down at Link with an indulgent smile. “If you want me to strengthen it more, then you will have to bring me more of those flowers,” she says, “and shards from the horns of dragons.”

That quickly stole Link’s attention away. Dragons?

A shiver of nerves slipped down his back; he didn’t know Hyrule had dragons. Would he have to fight them to get a piece of their horn? He didn’t think he could do that, no matter what was expected of him.

His thoughts must have been showing on his face, because Cotera threw her head back with a laugh. “You worry so loudly, sweet boy! Yes, dragons – guardian spirits of the land. They’re quite harmless; there are three – Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh - and they travel across all of Hyrule. You’ll know one when you see it. Though -”

Cotera tapped her chin with one long nail, a concerned frown on her lips. “No one has seen Naydra in decades. It’s worrisome…but hopefully nothing too serious.”

Link stuck around and kept Cotera company for a few more moments, but that comment about the dragons stayed in his mind as he returned to the inn, putting a worried furrow in his brow. The dragons…Cotera said they were spirit guardians; that must mean they were very powerful in their own way. The missing dragon…it couldn’t have been harmed or – or worse. Could it?

It was well into the afternoon when Link returned to the village, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of his time. He would go exploring if this was a regular day, but the tension in the air…he didn’t want to go too far.

Squinting up at the sky, Link considered his options. The weight in his chest pressed down on him, reminding him of his need to pray, and he decided to do that next. Besides – he had noticed something, the last time he kneeled at the foot of the Goddess, and he wanted to see if that feeling would come again.

He could feel the presence of the Goddess rippling around the statue as he approached, and he made himself comfortable as he carefully kneeled down, lowering his head as he began to pray.

And – there. There.

Link could feel it – there was this…sensation that he’s been trying to find the words for. A presence just at the back of his mind, sitting there, watching. Waiting to see what he was going to say. He had wondered about it; thought that it was just the presence of the Goddess Hylia, but –

But it felt like Her, but also…not. There was something different about it. He thinks that, well.

Maybe it’s the princess.

Just the idea makes him feel a little smug – he knew the connection went both ways. He wasn’t entirely sure, but just in case, Link made sure he was good and settled.

He has a lot to tell her.

-o-

Link…

Link stirs from a fitful sleep to the sound of the princess’ voice in his ears, clearer than it’s ever been. What is -?

Link!

He sits up, blankets slipping away, and swipes at his eyes, wondering what’s happening to make her call for him so. Is something happening? Is the Calamity –

Is it happening? Was he too late?

Panic’s icy grip wrapped around his heart, and Link’s eyes snapped open to see crimson light streaming through his window. The feeling in the air, the tension – it was hitting a crescendo, stirring his blood into a panic, forcing him to move, to ­act –

He was out of bed and on his feet before he could think, rushing out of his room and the inn. Malice rained from the sky like ash, and the clouds churned in the sky, moving faster than they should around a swollen, crimson moon.

A Blood Moon.

Be on your guard! Zelda pleads in his ear. Ganon’s power grows. It rises to its peak in the hour of a Blood Moon. By its glow, the aimless spirits of monsters slain in the name of the light return to their flesh.

It makes sense now, Link thinks numbly, why Impa advised him to stay within the village. He wasn’t sure what he would’ve done if he had experienced this while on his own in the wild. All the monsters he had dispatched so far in his journey flashed through his mind, and Link spat out a curse; no wonder monsters are running wild – who would bother facing them when they just come back to life every month?

Link –

His attention sharpened; the princess’ voice was softer, now, fading. She was leaving him again – for now.

Please be careful.

It was gradual, the violent red giving way to the calm blue of night, the moon returning to its soft, silvery glow. Lingering flakes of Malice fluttered around him before disappearing, and Link shivered a little as the cool wind blew against his nightshirt, soaked with sweat. When Impa warned him of the Blood Moon, he wasn’t expecting…that. He still felt a little shaky, a tremble to his limbs as he slowly turned and went back into the inn. The snap of his door closing sounded overly loud when he returned to his room, and he pressed his back against the door, dragging his hand down his face with a ragged sigh.

Across the room, his bed waited for him, soft and inviting, promising comfort. But Link wasn’t sure how he would be able to go back to sleep now.

[mss3ng]

I was tagged by @aurltas to share ten things about myself! Thanks for the tag and also sorry for taking like a day or two to actually write this stuff down XD

1.       I enjoy doing fiber arts and related crafts. I learned spinning and needle felting at a music camp a while back and I’ve always adored Tamora Pierce’s circle of magic books. I’m progressively getting better at spinning but once I have yarn I have literally nothing to do with it because I don’t enjoy knitting or crocheting. I would love to get into embroidery as well I have so many hobbies. Also, I’m not sure it counts as fiber arts but I’ve been getting into Chinese decorative knot tying and that’s also fun but makes my hands hurt.

2.       I’ve never thought of myself as a super athletic jock person but I’ve usually enjoyed sports I’ve tried my hand at. I did basketball for a bit and then danced for 8 years (I did one year of competitions and realized that was not for me, god I was so lonely and played so much Pokémon in hotel rooms in the middle of nowhere). Later on I also dabbled in kendo and other forms of sword fighting (but not fencing. Longswords are much more fun).

3.       The Gris OST has gotten me through intense studying ever since I discovered it and it’s never failed to keep me focused on whatever I’m working on, I have no idea why but that soundtrack is beautiful and must be listened to in order. But also, if I’m not in the mood for it, I’ll also swap it out with the Sayonara Wild Hearts or the Persona 5 Royal OSTs for variation’s sake. If you see me smiling at music, it’s most likely video game soundtracks (this cover of the staff roll from Link’s Awakening) or the xiaohei OST (here)

4.       For a few years in college I played clarinet in a video game orchestra where we covered a bunch of my favorite tracks. The ensemble pieces were a blast to play (chamber music sucked though because I hate playing alone on my instrument) and my favorite would either be Simple and Clean because that counter melody slaps, or Ballad of the Goddess where the main violin solo was replaced with an erhu—okay that one was beautiful and I’m so pissed that the orchestra dissolved before we could perform it.

5.       One of my more embarrassing screw ups at work was full on yanking a connector off the logic board of a MacBook pro, right when my supervisor walked in with ice cream for me. Yes, I am a certified apple repair technician. Luckily I didn’t get in trouble because these things happen. And then a few days later I found out another technician accidentally yanked off a different part of the laptop that wasn’t supposed to come off. (I swear we’re good at our jobs now, that was our first semester on the job and told to try to do things by ourselves).

6.       Birds are my favorite animals, I find them extremely fascinating and love all their strange quirks and traits. I can’t name a favorite bird because I have multiple depending on the category (Although I do have a soft spot for the American Robin) but fun fact! There is a bird called the Ash-Breasted Tit Tyrant and I love that this name exists in the world.

7.       I’ve managed to keep a semi-consistent sleep schedule throughout college and have never pulled an all-nighter before (and hope I never will). The closest I’ve gotten was going to bed at 3am to finish a short story for a fantasy class and I was a complete wreck the next day. Unfortunately, my consistent sleep schedule and early waking hours make me the perfect candidate for opening shifts at whatever job I hold. In tech, it’s not as bad since a 7:30 start time is manageable but for coffee shop opens at 6:15 it sucks to wake up an hour beforehand.

8.       Even though I love and adore houseplants, I struggle with keeping new ones alive. In my apartment I have a dwarf umbrella plant, some sort of ivy, and a monstera. They’re all in varying phases of poor health but I’m trying. I also refuse to get succulents because I like leaf leaves. The longest plants I’ve had are two spider plants propagated from my 10th grade English teacher’s plant and those things are hard to kill. I also have a money tree that is getting waaaaaaay too big to keep lugging around from home to campus and back again.

9.       I’ve only written and uploaded one (1) fanfic in my life! While I enjoy reading fanfics, I’ve never been interested in writing them, mostly because I don’t have as much fun working with pre-existing characters over original ones. I like playing in my own sandbox! But something I’ll do from time to time is sticking my own original characters from their original worlds into a crossover with media I like and watching the interactions explode.

10.       Speaking of original works, I’m a writing major (linguistics minor and I could probably cram in a Chinese minor if that was actually a thing at this college)! I write a lot! My main project is Chinese inspired fantasy with fiber arts, familial betrayal, and messing with the red string of fate trope in an unabashed aroace way. Another one that I’m in the character creation and world building process mode of is a viet-inspired fantasy project that’s got timeframe-based magic and a kingdom hearts style existential crisis. Also magic school because why not.

Wow I actually had a bunch to talk about. I’m only going to tag @liuet and there is 100% no pressure to actually do it XD. Anyone else that sees this is free to do it and tag me as well! 

[caffeinetheory]

Heartfelt [Maribat Monday]

So the original idea wasn’t quite working so have this instead. I might go back to it but have some Raven/Mari instead @maribat-mondays

I wrote way more than I meant to but interspersion hit at like 11:30 last night when I was trying to sleep and I just finished

///

Raven was wary when Robin brought a new hero into their ranks. She is, or was it wasn’t quite clear, the last Ladybug from Paris. She now goes by Marigold, but Mari was fine. She was nice, maybe to nice. Terra made Raven even more hesitant than before, but the rest seemed to trust her. 

Mari was a good fighter, but she was an even better in the kitchen. Almost every morning she was up before even Robin and making something that smelled divine. It took less than a week for the new girl to learn everyone’s favorite and what their usual diet was. She spent extra time to make sure it was perfect for everyone. After awhile Raven and the team got used to breakfast ready for them. Waffles and herbal tea for Raven herself, how Mari always found the perfect blend for how she was feeling that day she wasn’t sure.

~~~

After about a month with Mari now in the tower, the girl was still really reserved but more than happy to have a conversation. Gifts had also started to appear where everyone would find them. It was always something they had mentioned in passing. Robin had gotten a new lock pick set to replace his old one he said was reaching its end, Starfire had somehow gotten some plants from her home, Best Boy and Cyborg had each gotten hew music players and Raven had found a the latest book by one of the authors she followed. No one was quite sure where they came from but they kept coming and they never had strings attached.

~~~

A week after Raven had gotten her book, she had just finished it, she went to the kitchen to get some water before she fell asleep. The light was already on and there was a faint humming, Raven’s guard was now up as she silently made her way into the room. It was Mari of all people up at nearly 2 in the morning. What in the world was she doing. The soft scent of green tea made its way to Raven’s nose, the girl seemed at ease, like she wasn’t holding back and just absorbing information. Raven just left not wanting to disturb the girl.

~~~

Two weeks after the kitchen incident there was a break in at the tower, the first to respond was surprisingly Mari. the others not far behind, Raven watched from the shadows with Robin. Maybe this was a test or something.

“Chaton I swear to Tikki! You can’t just do that,” Mari had a blonde boy in a leather looking catsuit in front of her looking sheepish. “But Mari Bug-” he didn’t even get to finish what he was saying when Mari with no effort dragged him cursing him out in rapid fire french. There was some joy in her tone, everyone else was just left looking at the door in shock. No one but Robin had seen her so assertive and in command of a situation before.

Twenty minutes later laughter was heard and the duo had come back in. “I’m so sorry for this alley cat,” the boy next to her made sound of disagreement, “Someone wanted to see me early.” Mari went about her normal routine while everyone just stared. “You might as well help me kitty, after all because of you I’m behind,” she nudged ‘her kitty’ and the two set to work making breakfast like she always did. 

Everyone eventually got back to their senses, this must have been her former partner. The kid joked easily and got along with Beast Boy pretty well. Mari set her plate next to Raven that morning, she didn’t say much to her but if felt different. The two watched ‘the dorks’ with smiles on their faces before Mari told Robin she’d be gone the rest of the day. She made sure to mention she’d be back for breakfast and “her idiot here won’t cause a problem like that again.”

~~~

The next morning Raven was the first awake out of the original 5. Waffles and fresh tea was waiting for her, but no sign that anyone was in the room. The note under the plate just told her to enjoy, she couldn’t help the small smile on her lips. 

~~~

Mari eventually reappeared later in the day with a ton of bags. Looks like he brought her shopping. “...You need help there?” Robin was the one to ask but Starfire was already by her side read to catch any fallen items. “I’m good thank you though,” no one could see her face but could hear the happiness in her voice. It took 3 more trips for her to bring everything in, she did the food shopping too. How she was able to carry so much they weren’t sure but sometimes you just don’t question it. 

~~~

Raven had left the tower one day to pick up some new books, when she came back there was a box of fresh macaroons, all different shades in the darker cool colors. The box itself was a see through black tied with a bow in the same color of her cloak. A small note in pretty cursive just listed flavors, all herbal teas she enjoyed. 

Breakfast the next morning was all about the different cookies everyone had gotten. It seemed like she got the most. For some reason that gave a smug feeling to Raven but the knowing smile that played on Mari made her heart beat a little faster. Maybe the two should spend some more real time together, some company would be nice.

~~~

It became normal to get some of the sweet treats in her room at least once a week. They always were there when it seemed she needed a pick me up.

~~~

Mari and Raven had started a routine of meditation and reading in the early morning than in the afternoon. Raven had started to help with breakfast despite Mari’s insistence, the shorter girls humming was reward enough. 

~~~

Raven wasn’t sure when she had gotten so used to the other girl's presence. That was until one afternoon and Mari wasn’t with for their normal reading time. Raven couldn’t figure out why it bothered her, nonetheless she went looking for her reading partner. 

Yelling could be heard from the living room, then a crash and a giggle Rave knew anywhere, when did that happen? Mari had just beaten Cyborg and Beast Boy in a fighting game, for what looked like the 100th time. Impressive. She didn’t even look like she had to try, “Don’t feel so bad guys,” the humor in her tone was adorable. 

Raven walked fully into the room now, “Oh, hey Rae,” Mari seemed to light up upon seeing her. Her face seemed to hold recognition and she looked at the clock, “OH no I’m so sorry, I lost track of time-” Rae just sat on the couch and cut her off by grabbing a controller from Beast Boy who was laying on the floor in defeat.

“Oh your on.”

~~~

Raven found a painted rock candy controller and a box of tea with a note on her bed a day later.  

‘We need to play again ;>’

~~~

“Rae, where are we going?” Mari had finally asked after Raven took her hand after breakfast. They had known each other for a while now, and Raven knew she could trust the Parisian. 

“You’ll see” Mari squeezed her hand as they walked the hallway, when they arrived in front of Raven’s door she squeezed it again, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely”

~~~

The pair spent a lot of time in Raven’s room. Often it was meditation but today was different. It had been a few weeks since raven first brought her in on purpose and they were just relaxing in the purple and black room. 

“Hey, Rae?” the girl in question only made a sound of acknowledgement and continued to run a hand through the other girls hair. She was reading the latest book ‘that mysteriously appeared’. Mari paused what she was going to say, it had been too long since she felt comfortable with someone besides chat, who was basically a brother, this was different. Her head laded in Raven’s as she looked at the girl from under the book. She was stunning.

“I’ll be right back,” Mari slowly got out of the comfortable position she was in and hurried out of the room. Not two minutes later was she back with a sheepish smile. She seemed nervous, odd but Raven shrugged it off. “Sooo, I’m sure it’s obvious now but I’ve been leaving you some gifts here and there,” Rae nodded a smile graced her lips. It made Mari swoon a little, “Well, I wanted to give you this one personally…” she trailed off as she handed a well wrapped package to the girl in front of her.  

“You really didn’t have to-” Raven held the package like it was the most delicate thing she had ever held.“

“But I wanted to,” Mari’s soft encouraging smile was all it too get the Azarathian to gingerly opened it. A midnight purple, almost black, hoodie was in her hands. The embroidery was shiny black and was of countless ravens all over, a slight fade to white near the hands. It was the perfect thing, how long did the intricate patterns take?

Raven was speechless, gently she placed the garment on her bed so nothing would happen and scooped up the small girl. She couldn’t help herself and kissed Mari. Once releasing what she had done Raven pulled back in slight horror. “Oh, come back here Rae,” Mari pulled her kissing back now that she had the chance. It was soft and hesitant at first like neither girl could believe they were doing it but here they were in a room lit up by candles kissing like lost lovers. It felt right and that’s what matters. 

When they finally broke apart, it was slow. They looked into the other’s eyes, looking for something, regret maybe. But they didn’t find that, their hands had found their way to each other’s waist when they stayed until a knock on the door interrupted before they leaned in again. It was Robin, when the girls opened the door hands still together he held a knowing smirk and started telling them about what was happening. It was time to do their job, hand in hand.

///

I hope you all like it and it is longer than normal I know :> it’s time to work on my other stuff so I don’t get behind Timari week is next and I still need to finish the chapter for this week, sorry for the wait