#but despite being incredibly wary of him she's also curious

[ruleofexception]

Witcher AU! for Obiyuki bingo 2023.

I know next to nothing about this universe, but after some googling and debating, I went with Shirayuki being a Dryad and Obi a human.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hello! I have been enjoying your posts immensely. I been reading your fics on AO3 and followed the link to Tumblr. If you don't mind, I would like to request more Competent Alec and Magnus with a dash of darkness. It doesn't really matter to me how you decide to write this but I really liked how you have been creating the worlds and ideas.

ah thank you! i enjoyed this verse a lot so i was happy to jump on it again and write more. i hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the compliments and trust

lumine

-

Mirai is competent, clear-headed and concise. Three things that Alec desperately needs in not only a second, but in someone other than himself. It’s with relief that he welcomes her to the Institute and in the time, it takes to settle her in, he has an appointment with the High Warlock of Brooklyn.

It’s faster than he expected but it’s also a relief, because he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to keep the mundane and knocked out underground while hooked up to IV’s. They’ve used runes to regulate the temperature, but it’s still not ideal and Kaleb has better uses than as a doorman.

—

Magnus isn’t sure how a mundane got through his wards and into the Institute, or why it had to happen now, of all times, but he accepts the offer.

And it is an offer, rather than a summons.  A generous compensation for his arrival, his consultation and his aid. Which is how requests are supposed to be made but is normally ignored.

Magnus portals to the Institute and is met by an antsy, exhausted hunter who greets him brusquely before showing him inside. 

The first thing Magnus hears is someone who is obviously in a position of authority berating another.

“Does it look like I have time for idiocy?” A tall, gorgeous shadowhunter is saying coolly to someone of clearly little significance.  His voice is low and calm, like ice running hundreds of feet deep and uncrackable. “There is no room in my Institute for insubordination, incompetence, or betrayal. If you’re fighting to stay because you don’t want to go to Idris, then apply elsewhere but you're gone come dawn. Other Institute’s may still accept you.”

Magnus smirks, because other Institutes are clearly not this man’s Institute.  A man Magnus is suddenly looking forward to meeting.

“Commander,” Magnus guide calls out, “High Warlock Bane is here to help with the mundane.”

Magnus’ shadowhunter turns, “Alec Lightwood—” he says, holding out a hand that would have fallen if Magnus didn’t catch it. Alexander’s fingers curl with his own and a smile threatens the edges of Alexander’s mouth, as if by accident.

“Hello darling, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Magnus tells him, eyeing him up and down hungrily and Alexander just nods agreeably, hand still in Magnus’ even as he’s giving his incredulous shadowhunters orders.

Several of them are slack-jawed and Magnus swears he sees one walk into a wall and two into each other. Considering how situationally aware shadowhunters are supposed to be, he can only consider that Alexander’s behavior is something of a shock.

Which makes something wake up deep inside of Magnus.

“The mundane?” He asks, because that’s the most important thing and a young woman steps up. Her brown eyes are exhausted, but she looks determined, and Alexander is watching her with wary pride and an almost curious hope.

It’s explained to him quickly and Magnus learns of Jocelyn’s fate, and he hoards away his own knowledge of the situation and pretends it’s all new.

“So, the mundane tracked her phone, but doesn’t have any true knowledge of the shadowworld?” Magnus asks, delighted by their show of competence despite being blindsided, “incredible.” He murmurs and he admires Alexander’s biceps as he says it, unable to help himself.

There’s a cough and Alexander’s second — a new addition from what Magnus has overheard — give him a tired but amused look.

“It’s only his interest in this building that we want to take away. Perhaps implant an idea that his friend is being taken care of. Or that she’s safe?”

Magnus hums thoughtfully and then nods, “that will be easy enough.”

“And the price?” Someone pipes up and then there is a shocked wheeze.  Magnus felt no danger, but he smells the scent of fresh copper pennies, and he smirks as he looks over to a blushing but otherwise stoic Alexander.

“That will be discussed after the job is finished.” Alexander says calmly and if Magnus couldn’t see how pink his cheeks are, he would think him innocent of being involved.

-

“Kaleb, you’re relieved from duty.” Alexander tells his hunter and Magnus is amused, wondering if Alexander means to let Magnus be alone as a sign of trust.  And then Alexander is stepping down into the crypt and reaching his hand up, looking sincerely up at Magnus and murmuring, “watch your step, it’s steep.”

And Magnus falls.

Metaphorically, because even if he’d tripped or swooned Alexander would have caught him.

But he falls, because Alexander is competent and sweet and he’s everything that Magnus wants, and Magnus is going to find a way to keep him.

It’s easy to take the child’s memories and even easier to change it so that he won’t focus on his friend’s disappearance so much.  Then Magnus pulls back, and he smiles at Alexander.

“Can I name my price now?” Magnus asks, truly curious and Alexander nods, head cocked to the side but gaze steady and surprisingly trusting.

“I want you, darling. Any way I can have you. What will you let me have?” Magnus knows to be bold, because this is the only chance like this he’s going to get and Alexander is too high of a rank and competent of a leader for Magnus to just take him.

Alexander makes a considering noise and then Magnus is shuddering, because Alexander is on his knees, looking up at Magnus through his lashes.

“I can think of a few things.” Alexander murmurs and presses a kiss to the seam of Magnus’ pants before he rises, the pink higher on his ears and neck but something stubborn in his gaze. “But—” and his voice darkens with disdain, “not here.” Magnus follows his gaze to the mundane and grimaces in agreement.

“Agreed.” Magnus snaps his fingers and unhooks the IV’s, healing the marks before he portals the mundane to somewhere he’ll be found at a reasonable time. “There, like he was never here.”

Alexander looks at him with such relief and awe that for a moment, Magnus is tempted to try and convince him to get back on his knees. Except then someone is calling for their commander and Magnus has to quietly seethe as his Alexander goes cooler and colder the longer he’s turned away from Magnus.

“Alexander.” He calls, because he needs to know how deep it goes both ways and Alexander’s head snaps around, his eyes finding Magnus’ immediately.

“What do you need?”

Magnus is asked and it’s like the world doesn’t exist beyond him, even though he’s aware Alexander’s still listening to the chatter around them.

“Just you, when you’re ready.” Magnus reminds him and winks, stepping back and preparing to leave. Alexander will find him when he’s ready and Magnus has no doubt that it won’t take long, not when his boy is equally eager.

[yakool-foolio]

I love everything about your death knight yakou AU! It’s incredibly interesting to read about. also i agree that yakou should have the right to wield a sword

I’m assuming Yakou will be much more involved with every investigation/case in this AU, and I was wondering if there would be any changes in relationships/character dynamics due to that. I’m mostly talking about Yomi (since he wrote the anonymous letter to manipulate Yakou and likely doesn’t initially know that Yakou had his memories about that whole ordeal taken away), but I would also love to hear about the other master detectives too haha

To format this so it doesn't become a mass of unorganized paragraphs, I'll write up a short list that contains a few dynamic changes, serious and non-serious.

Yomi - Yomi is quick to be frustrated by Yakou's antics. With what's been recently established regarding the Book Of Death, he hones in on Yakou, waiting with bated breath for an inevitable mistake to create an opening for him to arrest the chief. He's keen on observing Yakou's connection to the NDA detectives, especially Yuma. While he's never able to see Shinigami, he can tell with ease that the pact has been formed. He hides his knowledge of that fact well till their inevitable showdown in chapter 4.

Halara - As much as Yakou fears sinking into a sea of debt, he has no choice but to employ Halara's assistance for the Nail Man Killings just this once. The stingy detective continues to throw fees his way, but he reinforces his avoidance to spend more money than he needs. He hopes he can find a roundabout way to have the WDO pay off Halara instead. Once the culprits' souls for the serial killings are reaped, Halara understands the chief's concerns and offers him a candy cigarette free of charge. A symbol of their comradery being enough of a payment... for now.

Desuhiko - With Yakou in charge, Desuhiko can't get away with his flirtatiousness on the job. Quick to scold him, Yakou remains vigilant in keeping the little rockstar in line. However, there are still times where Desuhiko will slip from under his watch to try performing on the stage, frightening the poor chief. Shinigami wishes Yakou would allow the shorty to have a little more fun, but she's swiftly opposed by Desuhiko's comments towards her. Both Yakou and Shinigami grow ever tired throughout the mystery labyrinth. In the aftermath, Desuhiko continues to strive for fame from the successful mission, leaving Yakou both worried yet happy to see him determined to achieve his dreams.

Fubuki - Explaining the wonders of the world to an excited Fubuki proves difficult when Yakou holds a 'glass half empty' perspective on life. He doesn't shy away from telling the blunt truth of the things she's curious about. He believes it's better to anchor yourself in reality than venture off too far into unrealistic expectations that won't be met. However, Fubuki's adventurous attitude is admittedly contagious. He wonders what it's like to see the world through Fubuki's eyes, wishing he could be as optimistic as her. When the NDA detectives reunite after the culprits for the bombings and flood are caught, he senses a spark of a brighter future ahead of him.

Vivia - They start out wary of each other, exchanging their suspicions through side-eye glances. Vivia being fully aware of Shinigami's presence causes a rift between them. The death god grows paranoid, but Yakou wants to know more. This urge to better understand each other allows them to grow close, finding a connection through the loneliness clinging to their backs. When the time comes, there's no one Yakou trusts more with the harrowing investigation of his wife's death than the phantom detective. Yakou still has the capacity to love despite his losses, and Vivia blissfully floats in to fill that hole in his heart.

[belovedmuichiro]

how do you think that the pillars would have reacted to human akaza or Hakuji trying to join their ranks, he's strong but my man did kill 67 people with his bare hands - Space anon

So idk if you meant this as a whole au but here we go :) I imagine the only way for Akaza to become human and join the demon slayers would be via Kyojuro, and that’s not even me as a shipper talking that’s just the only way I can see it going. I don’t think any other hashira would hesitate to kill him, and I think that Kyojuro would be the only one who could a) get through to Akaza and b) would be at least somewhat interested in his potential. I mostly think this because Kyojuro, despite trying to kill him, was trying to convince Akaza of humanity’s beauty and if that was getting through to him, I think he wouldn’t of discarded that. I also think this is the only way Akaza would have access to Tamayo’s medicine (which would have to be finished way earlier in the timeline) and would ever join the demon slayers.

With that in mind! The majority don’t like him, but here’s my in-depth thoughts on that (spoilers!)

Kyojuro likes Akaza, he sees potential in him and wants to help him grow. If and when he learns about his backstory, he relates it to the way his father succumbed to his depression, and feels a sort of obligation to help him heal since he couldn’t do it for his father. He’s Akaza’s biggest advocate, as well as his friend and partner.

Mitsuri is wary of him, but she has a curious and forgiving nature, so she warms up to him quickly, especially with Kyojuro’s approval of him. She’s very understanding of how being a demon changed him, and doesn’t acknowledge it as a real part of himself since he had literally no humanity. She trusts Kyojuro, so she trusts him.

Obanai hates him plain and simple. He’s completely unwilling to try and understand him, and refuses to work with him. If it weren’t for him being a corps member, he probably would’ve killed him. He also hates how close he is to Kyojuro and Mitsuri.

Shinobu is neutral but borders on liking him after he gives her information on Douma. She’s his doctor, so she has to be neutral but she’s very grateful for the advantage he offers her and feels kind of amused by his hatred for Douma.

Giyuu is also neutral, bordering on disliking him. He gives him a fair chance because of the things he did to protect Nezuko, but stays away from him and doesn’t talk to him (not that Akaza tries, they really just stand in silence). He has a deep respect for Kyojuro so he’s accepting of it all, he just doesn’t want to be around him.

Sanemi hates hates hates it. He’s right there with Obanai he hates him so much. He’s vocal about how unfair it is and has tried to attack Akaza before, but it didn’t go well for anyone and he ended up getting in a lot of trouble for it. He still tries to pick verbal fights though.

Muichiro straight up doesn’t care. He’s not even neutral, he barely acknowledges anything is happening. Partially because of his memory issues, but almost entirely because it means nothing to him. If anyone asked him, he wouldn’t even answer. If he has to work with Akaza, he doesn’t show anything beyond compliance with his orders. He’s not afraid to rip into him if the time ever comes, but Akaza would have to piss him off significantly for that.

Tengen doesn’t like him, and this is mostly because he’s Kyojuro’s friend and feels like his trust has been violated by Kyojuro bringing a former demon into their ranks. He is incredibly impressed by his fighting skills though, but that’s as far as his respect goes.

Gyomei doesn’t like it, but doesn’t put up a fight either. Basically how he felt about sparing Nezuko and Tanjiro, he has reservations about it and doesn’t want to accept it, but won’t go as far as to physically stand in the way of it.

Now the younger demon slayers, such as Tanjiro, Inosuke and Zenitsu? They’re funnier, but maybe I’ll write that another time skdjskfjkdk

[hyunjinspark]

hi 👋🏻 my name is Ciel ! ☁️

im unsure i will be able to keep this ask short, i have so much to tell..

nb after finishing: indeed, i couldn't! im sorry! :<

let's start somewhere; i really, really like your blog, your writing. it is incredible. i had stumbled upon you as 'only fool' was being uploaded; im a stubborn and persistent reader, so i kept myself from looking through before it was last updated, as i am also quite impatient if i get absorbed.

your writing is the purest i've ever read. this is coming from a person who has trouble with emotions and feelings; i am demi-romantic and asexual- but the way you use words are enchanting to me. i feel everything, from warm to anxious, joy to hatred.

for the past three days, i've let myself be completely entranced by 'star lost with you'. as i said, im impatient, and i forced myself to wait for some chapters, at least, to come out beforehand. and i don't think i can fall more in love with the warm feeling your story makes me feel. i was so focused on every word from every chapter, i even found myself rereading most parts. this giddy feeling while reading, the pure love, either platonic or romantic, described in yn, hyunjin and yongbok. i am so curious of how everything is played in the other characters' eyes, how does hyunjin feel in those calm and sweet moments with yn, im especially wondering about his thoughts during the train ride, or when they met yeonjun, this closeness that seemed to not bother him at all; but was he nervous as well? is he an overthinker about his feelings? will his adaptation of Caress be detailed by an outer inspiration?

but as well as yongbok's thoughts as well. despite the time spent, you can still feel him being wary of the situation behind those smiles, his pure white love towards yn is usually so untouched, is he scared of hyunjin tainting it? in either case he feels a platonic or romantic attraction, does he, too, overthink over his feelings? over his close and private relationship to yn? he is pictured as a carefree and sunshine person by everyone, but doubts and worry are natural occurences in a life.

the sheer kindness and empathy from yn, too. in her place, i would have left hana behind a long time ago, she is not bold and upfront, she is forceful and childish. it's a bit crazy how no ones shush her in some very rude situations she puts up herself and others. yn's overthinking feels way too real, her anxiety seeps into him, my stomach churning at some scene, like in the cabin and hana's horrid behavior towards her best friend's feelings. i have been constantly scarred by being left out and behind by who i called friends, since i was nine. the clear fear of being abandoned yn felt, when she found everyone gathered in the morning without her, or to be misunderstood and left by hyunjin, everything felt so real, as if i was experiencing it myself, again.

this is how i perceive feelings with the way you write. it makes me wonder so much, i have rarely felt so while reading. thank you for giving us so much of you in each of your work. you deserve to be read and congratulated over it.

i apologize, it may sound weird and uncomfortable to some extent to talk like this. but im trying my hardest to share my thoughts, i think you deserve to know that your work has a deep impact on someone.

i'll be waiting for future updates, and i'll be sure to give my honest review at the end. if i work up more courage, i'll try to send other asks after chapters. please, keep writing. :)

- Ciel ☁️

hi ciel. thank you so much for sending such a thoughtful and heartfelt message 🥺

i understand what you mean, sometimes it can be really hard to start an unfinished story,, thank you so much for liking my blog and my writing 💖

the purest ? oh my gosh, your words will make me cry 😭 im happy that i can convey those emotions to you well. enchanting is a beautiful word and im blessed you associate it with my words.

im so happy you decided to start star lost with you, despite it being an ongoing story, and that you reread parts. your questions are so interesting and i hope many of them will get answered soon, as we explore diff povs, or perspectives. hyun definitely does think a lot about those interactions, and gives meaning to every moment. the closeness with yeonjun didn’t bother him indeed, and its interesting how different he feels regarding each person in yn’s life. his adaptation of Caress will also be referred to soon, and mentioned again.

as for yongbok’s thoughts, you’ll find in the next part how he feels, and if he truly thinks that the adoration he holds for yn may be tainted by hyunjin’s presence.

i m glad you can relate to yn and that her thoughts and experiences feel realistic and not made up. im sorry that it reminds you of such moments in your own life :( nobody deserves to feel this way.

don’t apologize for ever sharing your thoughts, it was such an honest review and made me very happy that you perceive my writing in such a way. you’re so sweet for this and trust that i look forward to know your thoughts on the future parts, if you feel comfortable sharing them. 🥺🥺♥️♥️☁️☁️

[heartofspells]

Sorry for rambling in your inbox, but I’m reading this fic, it’s a good Sirius X OC [Jonathan Rosier] where Walburga gets Sirius out of Azkaban (she goes “disrespect to a Black? Not on my watch”) and it has a pretty interesting perspective on how the Slytherins interacted with Sirius pre-leaving Grimmauld:

For some reason, [Jonathan] Rosier had always singled out Sirius. It had actually been a little surprising, because other Slytherins hadn't dared bully Sirius until he left his family.

Which made things awkward as fuck, actually. Sirius had always been the subject of strange looks from his housemates for the way Pureblood Slytherins had treated him—with careful neutrality. Sirius had hated it, hated feeling different, hated being reminded that Slytherins--Dark families--still considered him one of their own despite his Gryffindor robes.

Just, the complex politics concerning Sirius and the other children of the Sacred 28, my beloved. Sirius disliking his family’s reputation, beliefs, and darkness, but the “Dark” kids still view him as one of them, and they all see each other regularly outside of school, and also how that impacts his relationships with the other Gryffindors who are viewed as “blood traitors.”

This actually sounds very interesting. Do you have a link? I make no promises to read it, because I've always struggled with shipping Sirius with anyone other than Remus (don't have quite that much of an issue with Remus, surprisingly) and I'm not sure why (only one other author has ever managed to sway me on this, but i'll not name names or fics here, just know that when i think of them uughghgn i am drooling they're so cute and perfect). But the politics of it are incredibly curious things.

Honestly, I've been thinking about this a lot more over the past day. The entire system there has such a wide scope to it, so many smaller pieces revolving around a much larger thing.

For instance, I've always thought that within the Sacred 28, there's a sort of hierarchy, and while the Blacks may not have been the top, I feel like they were up there, more highly respected than most of the other families, sort of like royalty amongst purebloods. So the idea of the other Slytherin purebloods either giving Sirius a wide berth out of respect or repeatedly trying to pull him into their circles isn't a far stretch.

But the Gryffindor aspect of it could really be highlighted to such extremes. Imagine eleven/twelve-year-old Sirius, fresh at school, mostly an unknown to the older students but still known enough to matter, but having all his housemates simultaneously fear him and look down at him because the Slytherins keep tugging at his "loyalties". Even James may have been a little wary at first before he cottoned on to Sirius' true heart.

[irrlicht-writes]

of Rex Lapis and a young boy

“Do you love her?” “What do you want me to say?”

Say yes. Say yes so I can tell myself to stop. If you love her still, then there is no way that there’s place for me in you. Say yes so I can stop thinking, stop pretending. Say yes so I know that you don’t care for me. Say yes so that I know, once and for all, that mortals and gods are not supposed to be next to each other. Say yes so I can try to forget that you are my friend. Say yes so I can forget that you are my only friend. Say yes so I can slap myself and laugh and make a joke about how stupid I am. Say yes so I know that anytime you looked at me, you didn’t look at me at all. Say yes so I know that I’ll never be curious or kind enough. Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all. | Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

Ao3

*

Azhdaha.

Zhongli-xiansheng and the Traveller had left the Harbour for a while to go look at some stones – or something, Childe didn’t ask – and now they’ve returned.

It had stung, just a little bit, when he realised Xiansheng had just dumped him for their meal but that was okay. That was perfectly, absolutely fine. He hadn’t sat there for hours upon end, waiting for him and then heading to the Funeral Parlour just to learn that Zhongli had left the Harbour entirely. That was cool. It wasn’t like they told each other everything, right?

It’s not like Zhongli knew everything Childe was up to in Liyue.

But now they were back, sitting at the Storyteller’s. Zhongli-xiansheng looked great, even. Like he hadn’t missed Childe at all. Yeah. That was cool. Perfectly cool.

He wasn’t even interested in rocks, so no wonder they didn’t ask him to come along. Yeah. Right.

Zhongli told him about Azhdaha in a quiet tone, and Childe knew he wasn’t getting the whole story. The Traveller sat beside them, silent as ever. It was cool. Childe got the picture. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t as dumb as they thought him to be. Childe had heard that tone in Zhongli’s voice many times. For some reason, that tone had always struck him, but he had never been sure why.

He thought he knew, now.

It sounded like Zhongli was talking about something incredibly dear to him.

Not long after, Zhongli left, the Traveller close behind. They barely said good-bye and Childe smiled at them. He was acutely aware of the fact that they left without paying their tab. Yeah. That was fine, he’d just cover it.

“Storyteller,” he requested as he ordered himself the strongest drink this bar had, “can you tell me of Rex Lapis and the Mountain-Dragon?”

And so the Storyteller did.

*

The next day, Childe ventured into Nantianmen. He had seen the tree there before, but had thought little of it. Now, it was different. This is where Azhdaha had been sealed away, right beneath his feet. Zhongli’s friend.

Zhongli’s lover, even.

Back then, hearing about the Goddess of Dust had felt weird, like a mortal Zhongli pining for a Goddess dead way before his time. Now, after everything, it made more sense. When he talked about Azhdaha, Zhongli-xiansheng had the same look in his eyes. A soft, far-away look in his eyes that had always made Childe feel small and unimportant. Which was why, whenever he’d catch that look, he’d crack a joke, or point out a merchant stall.

He stepped closer to the tree and put his hand on the bark.

Did Zhongli come here, to be close to his old friend?

Zhongli never came to him, just to get him.

Always, it had been a matter Childe would have to settle with Mora somehow.

Had he ever been Zhongli’s friend, at all?

“What makes you so special?”

The tree, and the dragon hereby-under, don’t answer.

“Zhongli-xiansheng is rather busy, I apologise.”

To her credit, the Ferry lady did actually look sorry. It did little to stifle Childe’s mood, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He wondered, idly, why it’s always him that reached out to Zhongli. Why was he the one clinging to a God that lied to him?

Well, maybe he was stupid after all.

He smiled at the Ferry lady and left her. He didn’t tell her to inform Zhongli that he’d been here. Somehow, he doubted that Zhongli would care either way. He pretended it didn’t hurt something in his chest, and returned to Northland Bank.

At least Ekaterina and the others there were forced to care about him. Oh, the luxury of being a Harbinger.

*

Despite him talking about her all the time, Childe knew next to nothing about Guizhong. There also wasn’t that much to find in books. Despite what people might think, Childe actually was a vivid reader. Granted, it tended to be adventure stories, not dry history, but he could expand.

But she had been Morax’ best friend.

And while the dry history books didn’t say it outright, it was clear as day: they all suspected the two to have been lovers in some capacity. The all-powerful Morax, and the sweet, gentle-hearted Guizhong. The perfect pair, even. He was strong where she was weak, and she was wise where he was not.

Childe wasn’t a romantic where it counted, but even he could see the potential in writing stories about a couple like that.

And she died, leaving Rex Lapis behind.

Childe looked out the window.

To be fair, he wasn’t sure why he read about Guizhong in the first place. What was he hoping to achieve? All the books he consumed about Rex Lapis have had a clear goal in mind: stealing the God’s Gnosis.

Not that that had worked, but semantics. Maybe Childe just wasn’t meant to steal someone’s heart.

He went to Guili Plains the next chance he got. He wasn’t sure why, but this place had been named after Guizhong and Zhongli. For all its historic worth, it look desolate. Rationally, Childe knew that a war has taken place here, but still, he had expected more, somehow. He had expected Rex Lapis to try and restore this place that he and his lost lover shared.

He was also a bit disappointed that there were no Glaze Lilies here. The books hadn’t shut up about Guizhong and Glaze Lilies. So much in fact that Childe had had his doubts on whether or not she’d really been the Goddess of Dust or Glaze Lilies.

He wondered what kind of man Zhongli would be today if Guizhong had not died. What kind of man he’d be if he hadn’t needed to seal the dragon away.

If that had been the case, then he probably wouldn’t have cared about Childe at all.

The hole in his chest hurt and he didn’t like it.

With his past dead, Zhongli’s eyes would glance across Childe.

If they had been alive, he wouldn’t have looked at Childe at all.

Wanting to stop, he killed the abyss mages.

*

There were Glaze Lilies blooming in the Harbour. He’s heard that they were cultured there artificially, because they were dying out. Zhongli must hate that fact. But that also meant that Childe of all people would probably not be able to actually approach the stupid flowers.

It had been days since they’ve last met, and Zhongli hadn’t come to him.

Childe felt like a broken tool. He wondered how long it would take him to get used to that feeling.

He wanted to see the flowers, so he snuck out at night. He knew there were some blooming behind the house on the Terrace, so he hoped he wouldn’t be spotted by the Millelith. It’d be hard to explain himself to Lady Ningguang for this, so he’d rather not.

Childe climbed the wall easily and quietly and sure enough, there they were – two Glaze Lilies, blooming under the moonlight. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Did he want to pick them to present them to Zhongli? Probably not.

He reached out with one finger, gently touching one of the petals. Somehow, he was afraid they’d wilt under his touch and die. But nothing happened. Childe sighed and lied down beside the flowers. The sky was clear and bright. When he closed his eyes, he could hear a soft humming in his ears and it filled him with longing for... something. Not a fight, not a victory, not even a loss, just – something. Something he couldn’t have.

“How did you do it?” He asked the flowers.

How did you make Zhongli fall in love with you? How did you make him look at you proper? How did you make him see you? How do you put that tone in his voice and how do you put that look in his eyes?

Childe sighed.

The flowers didn’t respond.

He thought of Azhdaha, who had looked upon the world with curiosity and had learned to love it through Morax.

He thought of Guizhong, who had looked upon her people with endless kindness and had taught Rex Lapis to do the same.

He was neither curious nor kind.

No wonder that Zhongli didn’t care to look at him.

*

Why had the Tsaritsa sent him here? Why couldn’t he have been in on the plan? He could’ve caused a havoc even knowing where Morax was. Why couldn’t he have taken the Gnosis after a done deed? Why did it have to be Signora?

He was Her Majesty’s vanguard, was he not?

Didn’t she think him capable enough?

Why couldn’t Signora have wrecked the city?

Why him?

Was he really only good for front-line mayhem, and nothing else?

The God he had spent so much time with hadn’t even looked at him when he handed his heart away.

The God Childe had believed to be his friend.

He had no friends, now.

Childe put his report away and left the Bank.

It was late, and everything in him yearned for his home.

His home, where his parents would watch him with wary eyes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come back, when he’d fallen.

When will he hurt Tonia? When will he take Anthon and Teucer, and turn them into monsters too? When will he reveal that our son has never come back at all? How long will this facade last?

He would smile at them, and pretend he didn’t know. He’d pretend that these months had never happened and that they still loved him unconditionally.

He reached the pier and sat down. He wanted to go fishing again.

The water gently dipped at the stone and Childe sighed. He wondered, did Morax laugh at him? Each time Childe had thought he’d been sleek, getting more information from Zhongli, had the God laughed at his ignorance?

But Zhongli had seemed so content, so willing to answer all of Childe’s questions.

It’s an important part of Liyuean’s cuisine, Childe. Please use the chopsticks.

Had Morax been making fun of him?

He’d never hear the end of it, back home in Snezhnaya. He could already hear Scaramouche’s snicker in his ear.

His mark had been right there next to him, ever-correcting the Harbinger’s grip on the chopsticks, and Childe had never known.

A one-way tool of war was probably the best thing he could ever be.

He could neither be curious or kind.

How would a guy like him ever gain the affection of the divine?

“You cannot sleep?”

Childe didn’t turn around.

What did it matter, anyway?

Zhongli sat down beside him with a small sound, reminding Childe how old this man truly was. He’d been a fool. How could Zhongli ever be his friend, with all their differences?

“Tell me a story.”

“What do you want to hear?”

Childe was silent for a moment.

Tell me how I can make you look at me. How can I be kind, or curious enough for you to gain your affection? Tell me how I can make myself significant to you. Tell me how I can be a friend that you’ll remember. Tell me, please. Tell me how to be important to you.

“I don’t know.”

Childe was staring at the water down below. Zhongli’s contract was fulfilled. There was nothing more they had to talk about. Why did Zhongli even acknowledge him? He should’ve just kept walking.

“You have gone to Guili Plains.”

“...yes.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see,” Childe replied in a hushed voice.

Truth was, he didn’t know. Maybe he had expected the ghost of Guizhong to descend upon him and tell him everything he’d need to know. A stupid, childish thought. She hadn’t come, and his questions have been left unanswered. A god would never descend for him, anyway.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing,” Childe said. “Why didn’t you restore the Plains?”

“Why would I?”

“Because of Guizhong.”

“It’s the place I lost her in. It is difficult to go there, even after all these centuries.”

What did it feel like, making such an impact on an immortal being?

Every time he returned home, he ventured out into the woods again. Some part of him wanted to find the crack in the earth again, where he lost himself and found himself at the same time. Maybe he also hoped he’d find a little Ajax lost in the woods. He didn’t know.

“Do you love her?”

“What do you want me to say?”

Say yes. Say yes so I can tell myself to stop. If you love her still, then there is no way that there’s place for me in you. Say yes so I can stop thinking, stop pretending. Say yes so I know that you don’t care for me. Say yes so that I know, once and for all, that mortals and gods are not supposed to be next to each other. Say yes so I can try to forget that you are my friend. Say yes so I can forget that you are my only friend. Say yes so I can slap myself and laugh and make a joke about how stupid I am. Say yes so I know that anytime you looked at me, you didn’t look at me at all. Say yes so I know that I’ll never be curious or kind enough.

Say yes, so that I know I never mattered at all.

“...say yes, then.”

Childe didn’t remember when he drew his legs in and hugged his knees. He felt smaller and younger than he had in years. Skirk would kill him for this position but she’d never know.

“You’re in pain,” Zhongli said instead and Childe almost wanted to laugh.

“No,” he responded, “I haven’t been in a fight in days.”

“Not all pain is physical, Childe.”

What did he care? Childe wished he’d stop. It was these sorts of talks that put Childe in this situation. If Zhongli would just stop pretending he cared, it’d be all so much easier.

“Kun Jun gave this to me,” Zhongli said and held out his hand, a pretty rock upon it.

For the first time, Childe turned his head. It was a pretty thing, he thought.

“Kun Jun?”

“One aspect of Azhdaha.”

Ah. Yes, the other lost lover. Childe tensed his jaw. Why was Zhongli showing this to him? Was he mocking Childe?

Look, all these pretty things you bought me, and still I value the rock my old lover gave to me more.

There it was again, the pang in his chest. Zhongli never carried around the things he made Childe buy. And now here he was, carrying around some rocks this Kun Jun picked up from the ground?

“It’s pretty,” Childe said then. He didn’t know what else to say and Zhongli clearly cherished this rock.

Mora couldn’t buy someone’s affection. It could buy him any favour he’d ever wanted, but he could never buy genuine feelings. Their friendship had been a farce from the start. Zhongli had used him, just like Her Majesty and Signora had used him.

“It was good, seeing him again,” Zhongli sat, gently holding the stone in his hand. “But it hurt, as well, knowing I’d have to seal him away once more.”

“I’m sorry,” Childe said and he wanted to take the rock and throw it in the ocean.

He bought Zhongli so many things, and he valued none of them. For all he knew, Zhongli had thrown them aside the second Childe had turned his back. He’d never be important enough to Zhongli, so why did he even try? Why did he ever bother? He had wanted to invite Zhongli to his home, to meet his family. He had wanted to show his parents that he was still good, still their son, and that he made a genuine friend.

He couldn’t do that now. At best, Zhongli was a former business associate. Not his friend. Never his friend.

Zhongli didn’t say anything and Childe suspected he was deep in memories. He wanted to stand up and leave but he couldn’t.

“Liyue Harbour exists today because of Guizhong,” he said then and Childe curled up in himself. Just rub it in. How would Childe ever compete?

A curious dragon with pretty eyes and pretty rocks, and a gentle soul of a Goddess with beautiful, humming flowers next to her, an entire city dedicated to her?

What was he against them?

A reckless, arrogant toy soldier. The only thing he was good at was fighting and even then, Morax would be able to beat him blind-folded.

“Without her, I would have never been able to appreciate humans. To me, they were barely a duty, a responsibility, not something worthy of love. But she walked among them, empathised with them and through her and for her, I was able to do the same.”

Childe was a human. But he wasn’t part of the humans Zhongli spoke about. He wished he could take that part out of himself; the part that made his chest hurt. He’d rather endure the pain of his transformation.

“When she died, I was devastated and I wrecked havoc on my enemies. They had killed the gentlest soul I would ever know and they did not deserve mercy for it. But I knew, I knew that that wasn’t what she’d want. She’d want me to protect our people, to become the leader she never got the chance to be. So I taught them to build houses, I taught them to make stoves. And these days, I believe she would be proud of what I achieved.”

He was saying yes, and it hurt. Everything Zhongli had done had been for her. But maybe – maybe that was a good thing. He could let go now, right? He knew know, he had audible confirmation that Zhongli would never look at him, would never care for him. He wasn’t good enough. Nobody would ever build a city for him.

He had to go. He had to leave. He couldn’t see Zhongli again. His feet itched, but he couldn’t move. Zhongli would never love him. Zhongli could only love things that were long past, and Childe walked ever toward the future.

“Why are there no Glaze Lilies in Guili Plains?”

“They are a delicate flower, and Guili Plains turning desolate was too much for them to handle. But if you want to get poetic, then Guizhong’s demise surely had something to do with it.”

Childe wondered. If he died, would – would something wither for him? The seashells he was so fond of, would they crack?

“You miss her.”

“Yes.”

Will you miss me is a question left unasked.

Childe took a deep breath. He would fill the gaping hole inside his chest with blood and glory.

“I have something for you.”

Childe blinked. He didn’t remember buying something. He looked over to Zhongli, who held a sword out to him.

“I have been meaning to give it to you for a while but ah, things got in the way.”

Childe reached for the handle and held the sword up against the moonlight. The blade was green. He’d never seen a weapon like that before.

“I crafted it myself long ago. The blade is cut from the purest jade. I made it for a friend, but sadly, they never got to use it.”

“I...” Childe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t use a sword much these days, but he could appreciate good craftsmanship. And really, he could never have enough weapons.

“Thank you,” was what he settled on and Zhongli smiled at him.

“You wished to hear a story,” Rex Lapis said and Childe nodded, holding his new gift close.

“Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a boy. The boy would never learn to fear the God he met and instead, would always smile brightly at him. Some might say the boy was ignorant of who he met, but Rex Lapis greatly enjoyed the company of the boy, unburdened by the past. It’s the tale of Rex Lapis, a god feared for his wrath, and a young boy with kind eyes and a gentle soul, ever ready to overtake the world and unafraid to walk in front of a god he ought to fear.

Once, a long time ago, Rex Lapis encountered a young boy who showed him the light of the sun again.”

Perhaps this was alright. Maybe Rex Lapis would always be stuck in the past and Childe would always walk ahead into the future. As Childe listened to Rex Lapis tell him an ancient tale, he fell asleep next to his friend Zhongli, a green sword tightly hugged to his chest.

He dreamed of a field full of flowers and a god and a boy, holding hands, walking towards the gentle brushing of the sea at the shore.

[ask-the-riders]

Forging A Bond

Welp,, I wrote this a little while ago, but thanks to my ADD, I kept getting distracted and forgetting to do anything with it ^^"

In summary, Retribution had caught the attention of a stranger, who in turn had decided to follow him for a bit. He tries to ignore them, but inevitably, they wind up making their presence known and introducing themselves, completely catching him by surprise

Retribution let out a soft breath, keeping his gaze forward as he walked. He'd been able to sense the feelings of a second person for a while now. Although he found it odd, he detected no malicious intent, so he attempted to ignore them. Dried, dead leaves crunched under his boots as he kept walking, fighting the urge to glance back over his shoulder. Reaching his destination, he lowered himself onto one knee, delicately placing a small bouquet of flowers in front of a headstone. The rider remained silent, part of his cloak fluttering in the breeze as he reached out to gingerly trace his fingers over the name on the stone. Remembering the human who was buried there, he frowned, furrowing his brow bones and murmuring, "If only I could've been there for you in your final moments..." 

He could sense the approaching soul behind him, already aware that it belonged to the person who'd followed him here. Not even remotely surprised as they called out to him, "Well, it looks like someone beat me here." At the unfamiliar voice, he arched a brow bone, "I'm afraid so. What business do you have here?" They hummed, drawing nearer, "I'm merely paying my respects to the fallen children here. And you?" Retribution stood, straightening his clothes, "I'm also paying my respects... I lost a dear friend quite a while ago, so I'm visiting her grave, specifically." The stranger gave off a pulse of sympathy and made a sound in understanding, "Ah. I'm sorry for your loss... I can't imagine the way you must feel." 

Ret watched curiously as a figure passed by him, moving to the next row of graves. Despite the long coat they wore and the hood hiding their face, he immediately noticed the simple, yet elegant gown they were wearing, along with bones as white as fresh snow. With their back to him, he watched them curiously, silent for a moment before speaking again, "So... Any particular reason why you followed me here?" The stranger momentarily tensed up, "...I should've known that you would've caught on. You are a version of Nightmare, so it's in your nature to be incredibly observant." Retribution stiffened at hearing his old name, his brow bones furrowing, "Ok, who are you, and why were you following me?" The figure let out a deep sigh, pushing their hood back off of their head to reveal a simple crown that sat atop their skull. Turning to face Retribution, they proceeded to unbutton their coat, pulling part of it aside to reveal a family crest stitched into the fabric over their chest. 

The rider's sockets widened as he recognized it, and blatantly ignoring his scowl, the figure before him gave a small curtsey, her violet and grey eye lights meeting his cyan ones, "I apologize for the delayed introduction. I am Nyx, daughter of Nightmare, and the current queen of the kingdom of Regoria." Retribution stared at her for a moment in silence as he tried to process the situation; His original counterpart was a father, huh?... Would that mean that, in a way, he was a father, too? As if Nyx could tell what he was thinking, she hummed, "Yes, it's true. The 'walking tar pit,' as some call him, has children. There's myself, and I have a brother, as well." 

He blinked in surprise; It wasn't just the one kid, it was two now? Who in their right mind would willingly sleep with his counterpart?? Twice, at that.

Ret cleared his throat, "That's... Interesting. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting to learn anything like this today. That still doesn't explain why you were following me though, your Highness." Nyx rolled her eye lights and couldn't help but smile slightly, "At ease, Retribution. I wasn't following you with the intention of causing you any problems or harm. I was curious about you and wondered what you were doing here, that's all." The rider made a face, still at a loss, "I'd like to ask how you know my name, but I feel like I should be more concerned about why you were curious about me." The princess laughed softly, "I can't blame you for being wary of me, but I'm serious. I don't mean you any harm, and I'm here of my own accord. My curiosity stems from the things I've read about you in my father's journal." 

He narrowed his eyes a bit in suspicion, "Oh, really? What kinds of things has he written about me?" Nyx shrugged her shoulders, remaining completely at ease, "It's nothing incriminating, don't worry. He seems to be logging the differences between the two of you and jotting down notes about your interactions, for the most part. I can see some of the obvious differences between you already, but I'm intrigued. I'd like to observe with my own eyes." The rider arched a brow bone, "Tell me what differences you think you see." The princess made her way over to a bench and sat down, tilting her head as she looked at him, "Well, there's the obvious lack of tentacles and goop. Your eyes are cyan by default while his are violet, and you appear ever so slightly shorter than him." 

He made a sound in acknowledgment, beginning to approach her. As he stopped in front of the bench and clasped his hands behind his back, she smiled again, amusement bleeding into her tone, "While you appear quite different from him physically, you're also very similar, at the same time." Retribution scoffed, "You must be joking. I'm nothing like him, and that's a fact." Nyx leaned back on her hands, "I'm not. The way you hold yourself and that stance you're in are quite familiar. I've seen them countless times from my father. I'm getting the impression that you're stubborn and full of denial, as well." Ret was briefly taken aback, glancing away from her. Reading him with ease, she straightened, lightly patting the seat beside her, "Come, sit with me. My schedule for today is clear and I'm available to talk as long as you want, if you'd be open to it. I know that by default, you probably don't give others your trust very easily, and I understand. I would like to learn more about you, and in turn, I believe I can provide you with answers for whatever questions are floating around in that head of yours." 

Retribution hesitated a few seconds before letting out a deep sigh, moving to sit beside her. Nyx's brow bones furrowed as she looked at him, slowly lifting a hand and beginning to reach for his face. She stopped just short of actually touching him, clearing her throat, "May I?" The rider stared at her hand, considering the options; He could either allow it, with the worst case scenario being an attack, or he could tell her no, and the worst case scenario would again, be an attack. 

He weighed the pros and cons, and with a sigh, he gave a small nod, "Go ahead." The princess offered him a tiny smile, delicately tracing her fingertips over the faint hints of cracks that framed one of his sockets. She leaned a bit closer, her eyes squinting as she took in the way the cracks had healed. They were smooth and so light that she probably wouldn't have even seen them if he wasn't so close to her. Tilting her head, her brow bones furrowed as she murmured, "You were hurt, quite some time ago... I can see the cracks, and they look like they've healed pretty well." He glanced away from her, beginning to sense the concern and sympathy she felt, "They have, and I'm glad they healed this way, honestly. It's better than them healing wrong and leaving me looking like some freakshow." 

Nyx withdrew her hands after a few more seconds had passed, watching him curiously; If he was anything like her father when it came to the way he dealt with his emotions, she'd be able to read him like a book. Right now, he was trying to maintain his proud, stubborn front, but in the way he avoided her gaze, his discomfort was as clear as day. Whether it was anxiety, him being secretive, or a lack of self esteem, she wasn't sure, but at the very least, she could tell that it had nothing to do with him being deceitful. She offered him a slight smile, breaking the formality in an effort to provide some reassurance, "Nah, I don't think you'd look like a freakshow. You might look pretty badass with some cracks and scars, actually." 

He arched a brow bone, glancing at her and clearing his throat, his tone holding a very faint hint of amusement, "I appreciate the thought. Though, I'm surprised your father lets you talk that way." Nyx couldn't help but smile slightly again, lightly nudging him with her shoulder, "Are you talking about the cursing, or the fact that I gave a compliment?" The rider hummed, "Both." She laughed softly, the sound catching Ret off guard. He watched her, blinking as he noticed the softness of her features; She definitely looked like a princess, and she spoke like one too, for the most part. As his eye lights caught sight of the bandages wrapped around her hands and the barely visible scratches and scuff marks that decorated her arms, he began to wonder if she also behaved as such.

He was pulled from his thoughts as she let out a sigh in contentment, "Compliments, I could see your reasoning for. After all, he doesn't seem like the type that'd give any form of praise, does he? The cursing, however... He's not a fan of it, but he doesn't complain unless it becomes excessive. I wonder, do you have any children that you allow to curse?" Retribution's mind briefly wandered, settling on a memory of Pestilence and Abrael playing with dirt, and he shook his head, "I have no children of my own. The closest I've got would be my nephew and my idiot friends." The princess blinked, appearing momentarily surprised, "Oh, I see. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I assumed that you must have at least one child by now." He tilted his head, "Nope. Just because your father and I share a similar origin story and are, in a sense, the same person, I'm afraid we live two completely different lives. He's got you and your brother, a league of bad guys that he's assembled, and he's still pretty focused on killing Dream, last time I checked. Meanwhile, I work in a team with other monsters, though not as their leader. I have no children, and instead of a brother, I have a sister." 

Nyx's eyes widened the smallest bit in surprise and she mirrored him, tilting her head as well, "You're not the leader of your team, you have no children, and your Dream is a girl?" Well aware of her surprise and increasing interest, he made a sound in confirmation, "That's correct. The only thing with my Dream is that she doesn't go by that name anymore. Rather than that, her name is Conquest." The princess seemed to perk up, "Oh! I think I know her, actually!" Retribution's brow bones furrowed and a look of confusion crossed his face, "How so?" She straightened her back, her posturing becoming proud, "She knows me as Lady Night, and is a follower of mine. I give her odd jobs every so often, but her primary task is to protect the children who have no one else they can count on, who makes them feel safe and loved. Between the work she does for Death and the work she does for me, she's being paid quite the pretty penny." 

The rider stared at her in disbelief, and at his expression, she did her best not to giggle. He was silent for a few seconds before speaking again, "...You're being serious right now?" She nodded, "Of course I am." Retribution let out a long, low whistle, "Well color me shocked. You're still so young, but you already rule a kingdom and have your own little following that, based on what Conquest's told me, seems like it's bordering on you being viewed as some ethereal, otherworldly being. I bet your father's proud of you for achieving so much." Nyx shrugged her shoulders, smiling slightly, "I believe he is, yes... He's just not very good at expressing it, some days. He doesn't quite understand the concept of protecting others without any form of personal gain. To him, I'd be better off at the castle, helping him plot my uncle's murder."

Ret took a moment to debate what he should say next, his brow bones knit. Deciding to wing it and hope for the best, he hummed, "Ah, I see... He and I are technically the same person, even though we're very different. I'm not sure if it would mean anything to you, but if he's having a hard time expressing how proud he is of you, then I'll do it for him." The princess's eyes widened slightly, and she remained quiet as he pressed on, "The multiverse works in the strangest of ways, so I'm honestly not sure if you'd count as my child or not. Regardless of that, I have no shame in admitting that I'm proud of you for all that you've done, and I think you're doing what's right. Your choices might not always make sense to him, but at the very least, they make sense to me." 

The princess stared at him in surprise, taking a moment to collect herself as her cheekbones flushed violet and she glanced away, "...I officially met you for the first time, not even a full hour ago, and you're already giving me some version of the 'if you were my child' speech?" Retribution's cheekbones also became flushed and he shifted awkwardly, also glancing away from her, "If that's how you'd like to look at it, I guess. Forgive me for being so straightforward, Nyx. I'm not normally like this, and I genuinely have no idea what my problem is right now." She let out a soft sigh, "It's alright. I'm not normally like this either. I think I might have a theory though, as to what the reason for this sudden, out of character attitude change is." 

He tilted his head, "What do you think it could be?" The princess lifted a hand, resting it over her sternum, "Maybe it's a bit of a leap, but it's possible that it has something to do with our souls. If yours is similar enough to my father's, then it could be attempting to forge a connection of some sort with mine." The rider made a face, considering it for a moment - she was right, it was a pretty big thing to assume - but at the same time, it also made sense, in a way. Fighting the urge to hide in his cloak, he spoke again, his voice a bit softer than it'd previously been, "I suppose that makes sense... Have you seen your father's soul before, Nyx?" She gave a slow nod, glancing up to sheepishly meet his gaze, "Yes, I have... It's been a while, but when I was a child, I used to have these awful nightmares. He'd calm me down by holding me in his arms and materializing his soul, while his tentacles kind of acted like a shield."

Retribution listened quietly and offered no complaint as she continued speaking, a small smile on her face as she recalled the instances when her father had used his soul to comfort her, "I remember it being warm, and how he sounded when he either told me a story or began to hum this one song, in an effort to calm me down... His soul's corrupted by excess negativity, and it has been for a while, but there were these thin slivers of it that weren't concealed by the goop, and the prettiest purple light would shine through. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to cast a glow across my room, and it made me feel safe, somehow." Although he was having a hard time picturing his counterpart ever being that soft with anyone, he chose not to voice his thoughts; The look on Nyx's face was peaceful and happy, and he decided that he preferred it over one that was upset and insulted.

His cheekbones dusted a slightly brighter shade of cyan and he looked away from her, allowing his soul to materialize and float just outside his chest, "Was it anything like this?" Her eye lights locked on his soul and her violet blush became a tiny bit brighter as well. Taking in the apple shaped soul before her that was only partially coated by corruption, she couldn't help but stare, marveling at it's soft purple luminescence as she breathed out, "Yes... It's nearly identical. The only difference is that yours isn't as corrupted, and therefore it shines a little brighter." He made a sound in understanding, pushing his soul back into his chest, "I see... I won't ask to see your soul because I know how personal that can be, but I'm curious. Is yours at all similar to mine and his?" 

She shrugged her shoulders, refusing to look at him as her own soul began to materialize. Ret watched as it took on a similar shape, but arched a brow bone in confusion as it became a vibrant orange, small yellow speckles dotted across its surface. Before he had the chance to ask about the color, she spoke, "...It's weird, I know. I'm a monster, but I have human soul traits. You can thank my mother for that one." The rider blinked in confusion, tilting his head, "Your mother's a human? What about that brother you mentioned?" Nyx made a face, "She was, yes... For whatever reason though, she was murdered when my brother, Kazimir, and I were still babies. Kazimir himself is also a monster, but he has a human soul trait, as well. Mine was originally just bravery, but it developed the justice trait after a while because of my line of work, and Kazimir has the integrity trait. It's possible that he could've developed a secondary one like me, but I haven't asked about it." 

He watched Nyx push her soul back into her chest and sighed, offering her a small, reassuring smile, "Well that's pretty neat. I didn't think it was weird either, by the way. It wasn't what I was expecting, but there's nothing wrong with the way it is. If you ask me, I think it suits you." Nyx nearly gaped at him and he rolled his eye lights in amusement; Never in a million years did he think that this was what he'd be doing today. He didn't know that his counterpart had children, and he would've never guessed that he'd get to meet either of them, much less have such an oddly pleasant conversation. He didn't think he'd ever allow anyone other than Famine and Conquest to see his soul, and while he did realize the risks that came with doing such a thing, he didn't feel that Nyx was a threat. 

Nyx, despite being his miscreant counterpart's daughter, felt familiar, somehow. It was like he'd met her somewhere before, and even stranger yet, it felt like it would be safe to trust her. There was an odd warmth in his chest that he had mixed feelings about, and he was struggling to fully grasp what it meant. On one hand, it reminded him of the warmth he felt when he was with his partner, but on the other, it also reminded him of the warmth he felt when he spent time with his nephew, as well. He'd literally met Nyx maybe an hour or so ago, but his soul seemed to be making an attempt to form a bond with hers already, and he bit back a scoff at how ridiculous this entire situation was becoming. 

It was strange and downright unnatural, but he didn't feel the need to complain very much. Nyx looked completely content, and as long as she wasn't attacking him, then he supposed that was what mattered most.

[the-clari-net]

Princess in a Castle (Tie Me Down So You Can Wear Your Crown)

Also on AO3

Princess Dorathea doesn’t remember much from her time alive. She knows some things. She knows that she and her brother were inseparable growing up. She knows that she used to spend a lot of time alone reading while alive as the princess. She knows that because she was the youngest her mother favored her less than her brother (no matter how discrete she tried to be).

She knew that no matter what her family thought of her, she was tasked with holding and keeping part of her family’s legacy alive. To protect one half of their family heirloom with her life if necessary.

Dorathea was told that she was not allowed to take off her amulet, not even to bathe. She remembers finding it odd that the chain never rusted, especially since the chain itself was incredibly light and didn’t weigh much, unlike gold.

The memories and knowledge Princess Dorathea kept from her time spent alive were few. Once she became a ghost, she tried to protect her memories and guard them from ever escaping her mind. She has seen the ghosts who have forgotten and sees the hollowness and desperation in their eyes to find a Purpose, a sense of who they were to understand who they are meant to be.

She swore to do whatever it took to protect herself from becoming “single-minded” as she liked to phrase it. The back of her mind countered her phrasing, hissing a single word that was embedded in her core which she knew was the true title of what she feared to have. An Obsession.

Dorathea has seen this phenomenon spread all across Aragon’s Kingdom. Memories fade, and over time the strongest emotions and core parts of a ghost’s essence take center stage. Sometimes, it depicts something harmless, as it has with her ladies in waiting who shower her with care and affection beyond the grave. While sometimes their caring nature could become overbearing, the princess for the most part enjoyed her time spent with the ladies.

Most of the time the shift in demeanor is not as pleasant. Take her brother Aragon for example. She didn’t see much of her brother by the time the kingdom fell to ruin due to him taking over the throne and being too busy to spend time with his sister. They were distant, but even so, Dorathea knew that there was a familial love and bond between them somewhere. In their final moments, as they both burned and died alongside their people, Dorathea reached for her brother’s hand and he squeezed back so hard that she felt her bones creak while the rest of their bodies were engulfed in flames.

There was a sense of common ground when they both first entered the Ghost Zone. The siblings realized that the amulets that they had been wearing during their final moments brought about an incredible ability in their new afterlife. Aragon was ready to work hard, to be stronger, and to be more powerful so as not to disgrace his people again. He began to spend more time training his ghostly abilities, forcing his dragon form to last for longer periods of time.

At first, Dorathea was proud of her brother’s perceived noble actions at the time. However, things changed once the sky darkened, and a new inescapable Dark Age was born.

Dorathea realized too late the shift in her brother, her mother, and the people in the kingdom. The layer of malice that coated their words and actions, the fading of shared memories of their time before this realm, and finally the loss of their identity. There was no recollection of past bonds, no memory of the land they once knew as home. Not even Dorathea, try as she might, could remember the name of her homeland. The only name she knows is one that has been accepted and recognized by the people, as well as their leader. Aragon’s Kingdom.

To see her people fall victim once again, it reminded the princess of painful memories from her last moments alive. Those memories, so close to her demise, drowned her core in grief and sorrow for being unable to protect and prevent her people from being hurt again. She was helpless to change the outcome, yet she wishes she could do more.

Once the Dark Age had settled in the realm, Dorathea understood how rare it was that she hadn’t succumbed to losing as much of her past as the people around her.

Her mother very early on had become more cruel in her time over this realm. What used to be slight disdain had escalated to controlling, bullying, and finally hatred. The words she would spit at her daughter at first would make Dorathea run to her tower and sob for what felt like days. It wasn’t long before her brother joined in on the cruelty. His words hurt her more than anything. She remembered that as a human Aragon had always been stoic, yet his eyes shone with softness when he saw her. Unfortunately, since Aragon had mastered the power of the amulet, his bright red eyes were frigid and hard. There was a coldness that emanated from her brother that she knows (hopes) it cannot be real.

“That’s not how ghosts change, you know that this realm only enhances attributes, it does not have the ability to create a person anew,” her head whispers. Dorathea had pushed that thought from her mind when she first saw her brother after seeing the malicious glint in his gaze.

However, that was long ago at the beginning of Prince Aragon’s rule of the realm. The princess learned how to act and behave to avoid the majority of her brother and mother’s wrath. The words thrown at her ( useless, pathetic, a waste ) no longer felt like a physical stab wound. The effect her family had on her never fully went away, but it was more of a twitch to her core. After spending what felt like centuries in this realm, the princess understood that whatever bond and love was shared in their human lives has long disintegrated along with their corpses.

She is loyal to her brother, but not out of any real love. Not anymore. The bond that chains her to her brother is the connection that the amulets share.

Those damned amulets.

Dorathea treasures her memories and emotions more than the amulet that has followed her into the afterlife. She wears it out of habit, at least that’s what she says.

To be honest, she doesn’t ever recall having tried taking it off. Something about doing so feels as if she is admitting defeat. It feels wrong. As if she would lose more of herself than she already has.

Perhaps it is because it was the most important task given to her while she was human. When Father passed, he had instructed that Aragon and Dorathea be given the amulets to wear until the next generation of the royal line could take them. Neither of the siblings understood why Father urged that the jewelry be protected at all costs. Even now, Dorathea is not quite sure what Father knew. Any possible secret behind the amulets disappeared along with the King’s final breath.

The point is that Dorathea adapted to her new environment. She learned how to act and behave in the realm, and has survived. But she’s tired. Each new day has her feeling as if a chip of her existence evaporates every time she looks outside and sees the infinitely dark and cloudy sky.  

Dorathea wonders if she will ever feel whole again.

***

Recently there have been whispers from the people in the kingdom.

The border between the Ghost Zone and the human world is thinning.

A portal is forming from the humans’ side. It feels unnatural.

There is tittering from the ladies in waiting, there’s unease, yet also a buzz of energy surrounding the kingdom.

Dorathea feels it too.

It has been a long time since a portal has opened in such close proximity to their realm to be able to feel it this strongly. The last time it had happened, Dorathea created an elaborate scheme that allowed her to escape into the human world, if only for a bit.

She knew the dangers of natural portals. The instability, the real risk of being stuck in the human realm and unable to return for an indefinite amount of time. Yet, she had gone.

Dorathea ended up in the kingdom of Mali, and it was a memory that she looks back on quite fondly. However, due to certain social mishaps, Dorathea learned quickly that the human world had changed quite a lot and it would not help to enter the human realm naive. Since her last adventure, the princess has spent much of her time meeting with the Ghost Writer (she’s unsure how he manages to enter their realm given the “safety” protocols the prince has) and absorbing any information that he is able to bring to her. Most of the time, they’re fictional stories that transport her to new worlds and adventures. They’re bittersweet to read, but the envy fades quickly once a new curious piece of technology or slang appears. When the Ghost Writer comes back to pick up her book, a list of questions spew forth and he gladly answers all her questions.

With the appearance of the new portal, Dorathea is determined to leave again. With the way this human-made portal is operating, it feels to be in one location, and constantly open.

Aragon is in the midst of planning a ball. It’s not so much a ball as it is an excuse for the kingdom’s subjects to bask in Aragon’s power and pretend to enjoy the music that to Dorathea’s ears makes her crave a second death.

The princess knows that the human realm would have a better ball (nowadays called dances, according to Ghost Writer) than anything her brother has hosted. Between the preparation and everyone’s wariness about upsetting Prince Aragon, it was painfully easy for Dorathea to escape towards the portal despite her mother’s words against doing so.

Touching the portal felt nothing like the natural one she had passed through before. This one felt as if her body wanted to simultaneously split and compress. The immense pressure hit her immediately from all different directions, pushing and pulling on different parts of her body. She felt parts of her involuntarily distort. Her legs merged into a tail without her control, an undetectable wind was blowing against her face and hair. There was static in the air that felt like tiny needles poking at her body. The space was screaming into her head.

Wrong, unnatural, LEAVE!

Still, Dorathea pushed on and forced herself to keep moving forward despite the strain it was putting on her body. The only part of her that felt steady was the amulet across her chest. She felt it tugging her towards a direction, which she blindly followed hoping that it would lead her to the other end of the portal. This feels nothing like the last portal I had taken, Dorathea thought to herself.

After what felt like eons, she passed through to the other side.

She collapsed onto the ground, slightly dazed at the intense strain that this portal had placed on her body. Just how strong was this portal? Dorathea made herself invisible, worried about what the powerful and terrifying human beings who managed to create this portal would be like.

She was lucky to notice that the space was empty. Things looked odd here, very metallic and cold. It felt almost like a dungeon. There were glass beakers everywhere, an odd box with a shiny black surface on one side of the box was in the corner of the room. When she saw a green residue on one of the far tables of the room, she concluded that her initial impression wasn’t that far off. The princess decided to avoid the strange box as she looked for an escape. Dorathea saw a staircase that looked to lead up towards the upper levels of this... whatever this place was. Whatever she’s read and learned from the Ghost Writer and his books did not prepare her enough for this strange space. Actually, she’s unsure how long it has been since she came into the human realm.

That doesn’t matter. We came here to find a ball, and a ball is what we shall find, Dorathea reminded herself.

Until she could find a ball to attend, she would remain invisible. Her amulet will protect her, (it might be a chain tethering her to her brother, but is still powerful and allows her to present more human traits) but it would be best to err on the side of caution. After all, she does not want any unnecessary trouble from the humans who created this portal.

Princess Dorathea’s core thrums in excitement, and in her high spirits, she begins to quietly hum to an old tune that has been lost to time and memory to the living and undead worlds. A tune Father had taught her and although she had forgotten the lyrics long ago, the melody plays in her head crystal clear.

She hopes that this new experience will bring memories worth keeping.

[erin-bo-berin]

Confidence

MASTERLIST

This was an anonymous requested fic about the scene from season 8, episode 10 when Spencer is talking to Alex Blake and obviously not feeling very great about himself. I decided to write it as a cute fluffy fic because one, I knew I needed to use this gif and two, who doesn’t love a cute, fluffy fic? Enjoy all the Spencer feels.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (fluff)

Word Count: 2,673

It was another run-of-the-mill day at work for you.

Another day, another case.

This week you and your fellow Behavioral Analysis teammates happened to be in Washington state, tracking down a serial murder. One that was very unusual in his ritual of kills. He would kill a male victim, usually shooting them then a female victim would follow, killed by strangulation.

The unsub definitely showed more resentment towards his female victims. He was cold, calculated and distant from the kills of the men. Almost like he was doing them a favor by killing them in such a quick way.

His method of kill for the women was more up close, personal and definitely filled with rage. He wanted the women victims to suffer for as long as possible, inflicting as much pain as possible.

The team had profiled that he was probably holding resentment to a male and female pair, someone who had wronged him in the past, most likely his parents. Whatever had happened, the unsub obviously didn’t hold as much anger for the father figure as he did for the mother figure.

You’d been following his trail for two days, new victims dropping left and right, like a convoluted scavenger hunt. You were closing in on him and he knew it; he was beginning to unravel.

You had taken a much needed break for some bad police station coffee, when you heard voices around the corner. The tiny coffee nook was partially hidden by a wall and around the wall was a table where a few of your team members sat.

You recognized Dr. Alex Blake’s voice first, followed by the smooth, deeper voice of Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Well, why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

This question came from Blake and intrigued, you eavesdropped a little while you stirred the creamer into your coffee.

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” came from Reid.

“Why not?” Alex questioned.

“I don’t know, what if she doesn’t like me?”

“Why do you think she wouldn’t?”

Alex’s question wasn’t judgemental or harsh, just full of honest curiosity.

“Because I’m weird. I slouch, my hair’s too long and my tie is perpetually crooked.”

“You are not weird,” Blake said, sounding fully like a mother at bat for her child, “And your hair is just fine. The slouching and tie can be fixed though.”

You heard Spencer laugh, knowing that Alex was just teasing him. You smiled a bit, but felt a slight heaviness to your chest. You hated that he felt that way about himself. He was an amazing individual and whoever this girl was, she would be lucky to have him. She was lucky to even have him admire her.

Spencer was definitely a brainiac. With an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and an ability to read 20,000 words a minute, his skill set was impressive. But his knowledge wasn’t the only good thing about him. He was an amazing profiler, extremely good at his work. He excelled in geographic profiles, which he often worked on during cases and his love for statistics did quite come in handy for things.

But besides work, he was a sweet and gentle guy. He was always willing to drop whatever he was doing to come aid one of his loved ones, whether it was his mother or one of his beloved teammates. Many times was Spencer there to be an emotional soundboard for you. He cared for people and things deeply, he felt them deeply, which you admired. When he was involved with something he gave it his all; he was involved in it 100%. His chess skills were quite extraordinary, as was his poker playing. You had yet to beat him in either game. He could probably win a game of Uno like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Also, even though it wasn’t the most important thing, he was attractive. You often heard women make comments about his good looks—sometimes prostitutes too, which amused you to no end—in which he’d just get flustered and confused.

At six feet tall, he was long and thin, but without being extremely lanky. His light brown hair was often in a disarray of loose curls, falling whatever direction it wanted to. His eye color was quite a mystery to you as well. You’d worked with him for years on end and still couldn’t tell if they were completely brown or a hazel hue. Depending on the light or colors he wore, you noticed they had a tendency to look anywhere from a deepend brown, to a honeyed light brown to even a glowing green. He was insanely lucky with the facial features department too; he had a sharp jawline and nicely shaped, plump lips that women would kill to have naturally. Speaking of, his natural lashes were a joke. They were long and beautiful, framing his eye nicely. They made you insanely jealous because if you had been blessed with lashes so nice, you’d never have to wear fake lashes ever again.

All in all though, you knew he had the biggest heart you’d ever seen. Despite all his quirks and antics, he had a never ending love for his work and his teammates, a love that always continued to expand as people came and went. 

You couldn’t see how this mystery girl couldn’t see that in him.

Your thoughts had caused you to miss parts of the conversation, so when you tuned back into the conversation, you heard Spencer speaking again.

“I just don’t want to ruin something good,” he sounded dejected.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Alex said, “Is it worth you always wondering what could’ve happened if you never tried?”

“I guess not.”

“Then take a chance. You just might be surprised.”

You didn’t hear her departure, but when it fell silent you figured she’d walked away. You decided to make your presence known in an inconspicuous way.

You picked up your styrofoam coffee cup and rounded the corner, seeing Spencer’s attention back on the book in front of him. You sat down across from him.

“Need any help?”

He looked up, shaking his head.

“No. Thanks though. You have a death wish or something?”

“What?” you chuckled.

He motioned to the cup in your hand.

“The coffee. It tastes like warm, wet mud.”

You grimaced down into your cup, your desire for some coffee now gone. His description wasn’t all that off anyway; it was horrible coffee.

“I’m making a coffee run later, I’ll make sure to get you some of the good stuff.”

You smiled appreciatively.

“Thanks.” 

He moved to turn the page, when you spoke again.

“So I overheard your conversation with Blake.”

He winced, “You did?”

You nodded, setting the coffee cup aside and lacing your fingers together on the tabletop in front of you.

“So who is she?” you smiled.

He hesitated as if contemplating how he should answer.

“You don’t know her.”

“Well are you gonna ask her out?”

He shrugged a bit.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“I’m with Alex,” you encouraged, “You should totally go for it.”

He smiled shyly, like a timid school boy with a crush on a fellow classmate. It made you happy to see him so happy.

“You just need to have a little confidence in yourself. Don’t beat yourself up, you’re a great guy, Spence.”

“You think?”

“I know,” you corrected, “This girl is incredibly lucky.

You noticed that he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, even as he looked back down to the text.

“Would you do it if I helped you out a little?”

“Helped me out?” He looked up at you confused and perhaps just a tad bit curious.

“Yeah. Like helped you gain a little confidence before you ask her.”

“Really? You’d do that?” he paused, wary, “Why though?”

“Because Spencer, whoever this girl is, I can tell she makes you incredibly happy. Besides you deserve that happiness so much.”

“That means a lot,” he said lowly, “Thank you.”

“So, why don’t you tell me about this girl?”

He opened his mouth to answer you, but before he could speak Hotch zoomed past you two, talking as he walked.

“Garcia got a hit on the partial license plate. She found the address for our unsub. Let’s go.”

You jumped up, both of you following after him.

It was time to catch this son of a bitch; self-esteem lessons would have to wait until later.

•

The BAU had made it to the unsub’s residence just in the nick of time.

Leroy Fleming was moments away from ending the life of a young woman, who was thankfully saved in time. He had a sordid life with his parents. Parents who most likely had no business having a child.

His mother abused alcohol, drugs and Leroy. She would hit him any chance he got. His father always turned a blind eye, yet he loved his father dearly. He held a grudge against him though because the man never had enough courage nor dignity to leave the mother or the volatile situation.

“Guess that was imprinted on him in his early life. The trigger for his rage,” Spencer said.

You groaned, rubbing your side. You had tackled Leroy after he’d ran from the authorities. It was an impressive move that surprised even yourself, but you were paying the price now.

“You okay?” 

Both of his hands held onto the strap of his satchel as he walked next to you, looking over at you concernedly. 

“Yeah, just some bruises and sore muscles. Nothing fatal. Now, isn’t it time to tell me all about that girl you have a thing for?”

He grimaced, opening the door for you to the BAU unit.

“Do I have to?”

“Come on. Just think of it as an exercise. Besides we never did have time to go get some actual good coffee. How about making a run now before we have to do all the paperwork?”

“Alright. Just let me stop by my desk, okay?”

“Sounds good. I’ll just go wait by the elevator.” You smiled, walking back out of the bullpen.

Spencer caught Alex’s eye just as he was leaving his desk a few minutes later. She sent him a knowing smile causing one to form on his lips as well.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

•

After ordering your coffees and receiving them, you and Spencer sat at a table in the coffee shop, enjoying your drinks.

“Okay, now. Tell me about this mystery girl.”

“Well, she’s smart,” Spencer said.

“Smart like you?”

“No, definitely not. That’s not a bad thing either! I’m not calling her dumb or anything! It’s just different than what I’m used to,” he rambled.

“Spence, it’s okay,” you laughed, “I get what you mean. So she’s not on a genius level, but she’s smart. That’s nice though because you will always be able to teach her new things, tell her new facts and statistics that she’s never known.”

“I never thought about it like that,” he mused.

“Okay, tell me more.”

“She’s funny and kind.”

“Two great attributes.”

“She’s also the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. At least, to me she is. That’s why I’m so terrified.”

“Spencer she’s not going to bite you or anything,” you chuckled, “Just relax and take a deep breath okay? You’re just overthinking it.”

“I suppose so.”

“The worst thing that can happen is she says no. I know rejection hurts and it sucks, but wouldn’t you rather take a chance and maybe have something great begin than never to have taken that chance at all?”

“You sound like Blake,” Spencer noted.

“Then I digress.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” he joked.

“Spence, have a little faith in yourself. You’re a really great guy that any girl would be lucky to have. Even if it doesn't turn out how you hoped, you know that at least you tried.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Let’s get outta here before we move on to lesson two, it’s getting noisy.”

“Lesson two?” his eyebrow arched.

“Mhm. Follow me.”

It wasn’t until you were outside where it was a bit more peaceful that you spoke again.

“Okay, so where are you going to ask her out to?”

“Uh, I don’t know? I never really thought that far ahead,” he smiled sheepishly, “But you can never go wrong with coffee.”

He held up his to go cup, as if to prove his point.

“Yes, good! Ask her out for coffee. It’s the perfect place to sit and talk and enjoy each other’s company. Do you have anything in common with her? What would you talk to her about?”

“Again, not entirely sure.”

“Hmm,” you thought as you walked, “What does she do for work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! Spencer, have you even talked to this girl?”

“Yes, I have, stop berating me!” he laughed.

“Well, ask her about her work. That’s a sure fire way to get a conversation flowing,” you smiled, “Now, we’re going to practice.”

You took the last gulp of your coffee, tossing the empty container in the trash can and waiting as he finished his, tossing his for him.

“Practice what exactly?”

“Asking her out. Just practice on me. It’s easy, just say what you would say to her.”

He fumbled, trying to get words out, but kept stuttering.

“No, stop. You’re overthinking it again. Just be straightforward and say it.”

“Alright. Got it,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I was wondering would you like to go out sometime to get a coffee or something? Whatever you want.”

He was stammering, you could tell even the thought of asking this girl made him nervous.

“Spencer, Spence,” you stopped him, turning him towards you, putting your hands on his arms.

He peered down at you, curiously.

“All you have to do is just simply say, “would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”. It’s as easy as that. Get out of your head. I know you can do this.”

He smiled appreciatively, then nodded.

“Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?” he repeated, “Like that?”

“That was perfect. See? It’s not hard at all.”

You’d reached Quantico again and you patted his arm as you walked in.

“Keep me updated on what happens.”

•

It was almost 24 hours before you had a moment to talk to him alone again. You were heading out for the evening and you were waiting for the elevator to reach the BAU floor when he walked up next to you.

“Hey Romeo, you got a date yet?” 

“No, not quite yet,” he answered.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, both of you getting on. 

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you, yet. Your advice has really helped me,” he smiled, “Thanks for caring enough to help me out.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help anytime. Now you believe you can go for it, right?”

He turned towards you, smiling.

“Yeah, I believe I can.”

Before you realized what was happening, your face was in his hands and his lips were on yours.

He was hesitant, his lips soft against yours.

You couldn’t believe the explosion of butterflies in your stomach. You had never stopped to think just how you’d felt about him, but this kiss had confirmed that you did, indeed have feelings for him.

The kiss was soft and sweet and too quick for your liking. He pulled back, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, was that okay?”

Your hands had rested on his side at some point during the quick kiss and you smiled up at him.

“‘More than okay.”

He let out a quick breath, not quite a chuckle but his smile grew even more.

“Want to get a coffee with me, sometime?”

“Any time, any place, I’ll be there.”

You leaned up, bringing your lips to his once again.

Score one for Spencer Reid.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​ @hushlilbabydoll​ @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @lemonypink​

[mytardisisparked]

Sir dude, if it would please your dudeness, I think you should write a fic set in a world where family members are tied together by an invisible string, and Obi-Wan somehow manages to catch a glimpse of the string through the force, connecting him to... Korkie. Que the realization that Korkie is actually his son and that Satine hid the truth from him

Before I start with the fic, I just wanna say that this is, without a doubt, the funniest way anyone has addressed me ever and I am now making my roommates call me “Sir Dude” and “Your Dudeness.” God bless you, Anon. 

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

They were only visible during the deepest meditation, the Familial Strings. When a Jedi dipped into the Force completely, the usually invisible strings connecting family members shone a bright gold, creating a beautiful, confusing tangle of lives, loves, and loyalty.

Familial Strings were quite literal, usually, only showing connections between blood family or marriages. Occasionally, the Force would deem two people who were not of a romantic entanglement close enough to qualify a Familial String, but they usually only indicated a bond through blood. 

Obi-Wan, like most Jedi, didn’t dwell on his Familial Strings; he knew they were there, leading back to Stewjon, but he tried not to study them often to avoid the temptation of reaching out to the parents he had never known. As one who secretly struggled with attachments, thinking too much about a family he had never know would be a very dangerous thing.

All that being said, Obi-Wan was aware of the number of strings he had (5) and the fact that two of those strings had been created after he had begun his apprenticeship, shortly after his first long-term mission with his master. He had been puzzled by their arrival, but he had quickly pushed his ponderings aside and chosen to assume that his birth parents must have given birth to twins.

Now, sitting rigid with a pit in his stomach in his temporary quarters on Mandalore, he was coming to the realization that that assumption was very, very wrong.

One Familial String led from Obi-Wan’s chest right out the door and across the hall to Duchess Satine’s room. This revelation had been surprising enough; Obi-Wan loved Satine far more than he had ever cared to admit, but the fact that the Force had deemed them close enough and in love enough to connect them by a string wasn’t something Obi-Wan had ever considered. 

Even more curious, however, was the second string that deviated from the bundle aimed at Stewjon, directed to the room to his left. At the risk of breaking the meditation he needed to see the strings, Obi-Wan slowly stood and moved out into the hallway, watching that second string pivot around his heart so that it remained connected with the individual in the room next to his.

He swallowed as he looked at the door to that room, the room of Prince Korkie Kryze, Satine’s nephew.

Without another thought, Obi-Wan spun around and knocked on Satine’s door, knowing he was breaking every rule of propriety. She opened the door after the second knock, as if she had been waiting for him.

As the door swung open, Obi-Wan was faintly aware of the fact that Satine looked absolutely ethereal in the moonlight streaming through her window, her hair brushing the tops of her shoulders and her pale skin glowing. This, however, he pushed aside quickly as the contents of his stomach churned at the realization from moments before.

“Obi-Wan?” Her voice was soft and concerned.

“Satine.” His voice was harder than he intended for it to sound. “I believe we need to talk.”

Without another word, she stepped aside and invited him into her quarters.

The room, which was comfortably furnished and separated from her actual sleeping quarters by a wall and double doors. She led him over to the settee, choosing to sit across from him in an armchair, her face wary.

He fingered the edge of his robe, choosing his words carefully. “I was meditating this evening when I noticed something interesting about my Familial Lines.”

Satine’s face remained passive, but something shifted in her eyes. “Oh.”

“I never realized it before, but one of my lines is connected to you. I had two lines appear after our year together and I should have guessed that one line was yours but I never gave it much thought.” He swallowed and looked up at Satine, her face still carved of stone, though her eyes were glassy. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Obi-Wan suddenly felt very small. “But that second line-” he stopped and took a breath, finding his chest quite tight, “maybe you can explain why I have a Familial Line connected to Korkie.”

A tear spilled over Satine’s eye, quickly swiped away by a finger. “I think you know why, my dear.”

Obi-Wan’s vision blurred as tears began to collect in his own eyes. “He’s my son?”

Her lip quivered as she nodded, wiping another tear.

He let out a breath, his chest constricting more. “How could you not tell me?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Despite her tears, Satine’s face suddenly hardened. “How could I have told you?” She stood and turned toward the windows. “You, who were so nobly pursuing the life of a Jedi-”

“I would have left the Jedi. I was prepared to leave for you.”

She turned back to him. “Which is exactly why I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tear you away from your dream.”

“Maybe you were my dream.” 

She looked shocked for a moment, but the expression was gone from her face as quickly as it had come. “Be that as it may, I also had to think of Korkie. He is the future Duke of Mandalore and having a Jedi father would have lost his respect in the eyes of his people. He would have had to work harder to gain their trust and even then his Jedi heritage would have been thrown in his face by those who would oppose him at every turn.”

Obi-Wan felt a sharp jolt of offense. “That’s a rather cold and calculating line of thought,” he said, voice low.

Satine’s brows furrowed. “Oh, as if the Jedi tradition of tearing children from their families, never to know them or be loved by them is any warmer.”

“At least the parents of our younglings have the knowledge that their children exist and are being raised by those who will provide them with the care and nurturing that they need to-”

“Do you mean to imply that I didn’t raise our son with care and nurturing love?” She snapped.

Obi-Wan’s heart fell as he realized the implications of his words. “Forgive me, that is not what I meant to imply. I didn’t think.”

Satine rubbed her eyes, suddenly looking exhausted. “I know, Obi. I just...” She slid back into her chair, shoulders slumped.

They were silent for a while, each processing their thoughts.

“What is he like?”

Satine looked up at the Jedi, elbows leaning on his knees and ginger fringe falling in his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

Obi-Wan met her eye. “Korkie - what is he like?”

Despite everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, Satine’s heart warmed a bit in pride. “He’s incredibly smart.” She smiled softly. “Smarter than either of us, I think. And an excellent negotiator; he’s done a great deal in terms of welcoming new systems into the Alliance these last few years. Although,” she smirked, “he knows how to land an elegant insult when needed. He nearly got himself thrown from the academy for implying that his science teacher had inhaled the fumes of too many chemicals.”

Obi-Wan smiled at that. “I wonder who he inherited that trait from.”

“Definitely not me,” Satine sniffed, barely holding back a smile. 

Another moment of slience.

“Does he know about us?”

She took a breath. “He knows I am his mother, but I never told him your name, just stories of you and our time together.”

“Do you ever plan to tell him?”

“I-” She sighed. “I don’t know. I think the two of you would get along splendidly but I also want to provide him plausible deniability in case someone were to figure out that I am not his aunt. There are already rumors of the matter and I fear what might happen if Mandalore were to fall into the wrong hands.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I can see the logic of that.”

“Do you want me to tell him?” she asked tentatively.

He thought for a moment. “What I want is for us to turn back time and be a family together from the start. But, seeing as that isn’t possible, maybe could I get to know Korkie a bit? He doesn’t need to know who I am, but perhaps I could spend some time with him and get to know my son?”

Satine smiled. “I think that would be good.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smiled back. “Thank you, Satine.”

She took his hand. “And thank you, Obi-Wan. Korkie has been the best part of my life since we said goodbye and, although our situation isn’t ideal, he is the greatest gift.”

He squeezed her hand. “He looks a bit like me, doesn’t he?”

She laughed. “We will have to be careful about having you two stand next to each other; you have the same jawline.”

“He can never grow a beard.”

“He might have to dye his hair when he gets a little older.”

They chuckled.

“If you would like, I could host a breakfast tomorrow, just for the three of us.” 

Obi-Wan nodded. “I would like that very much.”

[purplezebraproductions]

Underwing Challenge Day #3

Who is your main cast? Describe as many of your OCs as you can cram into one post.

I did want to keep some of their eventual names a secret, but I think it would be better to talk about each of them so y’all can have a better view of my WIP. I’ll try to keep most of their backstory close to the chest tho. I’ll keep my OC’s under a cut for those who have been reading The Alters and don’t want to be spoiled, and for those who just don’t like long posts on their dash. ^^

Dinn

Dinn is the younger of the two between him and Creed. He is incredibly impulsive and has a large temper to boot that can get pretty out of hand if his powers begin to act up. Back in the day he was one of the many lightning wielders in the army. Due to their ability to shoot lightning from a long distance away, they were essential as “bombardment soldiers” as they were able to throw the enemy off their game early on, before the other magic and non-magic users entered the fray. Dinn himself wasn’t always well-liked in the group due to his sharp tongue and unwavering wit. He’s extremely stubborn and is generally rough with others, even if he considers them friends.

Creed

Creed is the older of the two between him and Dinn. He is very wary of his own emotions as well as those of others, making him seem both a bit stiff and caring. He was one of the few and far between fire users that the army was able to precure. Initially many of his fellow soldiers were curious about him and his abilities, but a few found him to be too standoffish and a bit of a loner. When happy he can be spry and bouncy, but when sad he is stone cold and silent. He has a bit of a turbulent up and down personality, as well as a hesitance to use his powers.

Fallen

Fallen, like Creed, can be a bit all over the place at times. Fallen is a bit over protective and possessive in nature. Due to having lost several loved ones in the past, he finds it difficult to let go of that which he loves. He’s very stubborn, possibly even moreso than Dinn, to the point that his unwavering stance can kind of be a turn off for some people. Despite this he has a genuine heart and desire to protect the innocent. He adores the worlds around him, but finds it hard to stop beating himself up over things he can’t change.

Daemon

Daemon isn’t a loner, but she’s often forced into isolation due to her upbringing. Daemon is specifically a Stone Golem who, in her world, is seen as reprehensible by the humans she lives near. Because of this she is afraid to interact one-on-one with others and is very closed in. She has a hard time reveling or understanding her emotions. Despite this she is a great listener and a fierce protector. When she finds someone to love she will stop at nothing to ensure their happiness and safety. She hopes to one day not be afraid of the world around her and what it may hold.

Patient

Patient has a bit of an obsessive personality. His desire to be loved and to be wanted/needed can often become overbearing and even violent. He can be quite a scary individual when confronted with this. However, when in the right state of mind Patient is a very calm and endearing person. He can be both a fanciful storyteller and a quiet listener to those he cares for. He has many ways of endearing himself to others and often picks up small traits and habits from those he interacts with.

Sir

Sir is not a man you want to take lightly. He is very literal when it comes to his work and his thoughts. He is also extremely blunt about his opinions and his desires. This can be both a good thing and a bad thing. It can be bad in the sense that he doesn’t take much of anyone else’s feelings or safety into consideration. At the same time tho, those who find it hard to deal with people who are wishy washy or who don’t like trying to guess what people are thinking might actually find his honesty endearing.

Mad

Mad has some odd tastes in what he wants and what his goals are. Truthfully he has no real plan other than “escape.” So, coming across the others, he finds it hard to deal with so many conflicting personalities at once and tries his best to self-isolate. This may all sound completely normal, but imagine what that would be like for a man who’s had next to no comfortable human interaction and can barely remember his own name at times. Mad is called Mad just because he appeared to be stark-raving mad when him and the others first meet. It takes a while for anyone to see his fear and paranoia are what is driving his erratic behavior.

Skull

Skull is very unsure of themselves and their place in the world. Having a large physical deformity that tends to hinder their movement and their sight, they’ve been forced into hiding many times over due to being easy prey for even moderately sized predators. They’re often seeking friendship and even comfortable alliances among other weaker creatures. They have no desire to be “at the top” or even have a significant role in the world. They just want to live safely and happily.

Prince

Prince is a bit of a blowhard with a large ego, and a dangerous view of the world. He truly believes others are beneath him and that he can rise above all with just the flick of his wrist. Being one of the last magic users in his realm, his is regarded with both admiration and fear. Something he revels in regularly. However, in his quieter moments Prince is nothing more than a man with no plan. He lacks a lot of forethought when it comes to what he wants for his people or his world. He is often terrified of what the world needs or wants from him, and finds it hard to have any desires of his own.

Torch

Torch is a fierce woman with a strong desire for change. She is a dedicated and dependable worker for her tribe, but she often wishes she didn’t have to be. The stress of constantly having to work for her people has become overbearing, and she is often so stressed that she lashes out at those around her. Her lover for her people tends to supersede her need to care for herself and her relationships.

Nomad

Nomad is a bit of a flighty character. She talks a big game about love and acceptance, but when the going gets rough she hops on her snowmobile and leaves. Because of her often wishy washy stance she can be a very frustrating person to try and get to know, both with her desire to not talk about herself and her comfort level when others try to talk about themselves. Despite her nature she truly believes in love and how it can change her life for the better.

Edit: I forgot about Lost, oh my Lord!

Lost

Lost is a bit of the pessimistic type. He’s weighed down with feelings of guilt and shame due to his past and has a hard time moving on from that. He doesn’t believe that the worlds need him to be in his correct place or with his correct person. He has a fast wit and a sharp tongue which, like Dinn, can often get him in trouble when face with the wrong people. He rarely enjoys personal connections anymore, but still hopes to one day be happy again, if just with himself.

[fullmetalscullyy]

a spark

this was an idea i originally had for royai week this year but it fell through. however i’ve been working on it and managed to salvage the idea at least! hope you enjoy some young!royai 💖

rated: g | words: 2013 | warnings: none

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

Riza paused during her monthly task of weeding the garden. Her head cocked to the side as she listened carefully, trying to determine what the quiet noise was that she suddenly heard. It was like a rustling… No, it was harsher than that. There was the odd pop every now and then.

“Yes,” Roy hissed in triumph.

Then, there were hurried footsteps.

Her eyes settled on the form that came careening around the corner of her house. Roy skidded to a stop with a goofy grin on his face. His short hair was tousled in the breeze as he left the shelter of the house’s walls. Some parts were sticking up, held in place by sweat, as rivulets of it ran down his soot covered face. Riza’s stomach flipped at the sight of him. Despite the smile on his face, Riza was worried something had gone wrong. His arrival was so sudden and so rushed that it startled her. She was concerned, and when it came to Roy being left unattended with alchemy, her worry was valid.

“I did it,” he grinned.

Riza knew exactly what he was referring too. Sitting back on her heels, pride surged through her.

It had taken a few weeks, but he’d managed it.

Without a word Riza stood and approached him, watching as his smile grew wider. His eyes were twinkling with excitement.

“Come and see!” Roy’s stride was long and his steps purposeful as he walked to the other side of the house.

Dutifully, Riza followed, also excited to see what he’d created with his alchemy. Rounding the corner of her home, she saw a small fire nestled in between a tight clump of sticks.

Roy grinned at her, gesturing towards the flames with one hand on his hips. “What do you think?”

He’d finally created fire with alchemy.

She’d helped him with that, Roy kept reminding her. He always gushed about how thankful he was for Riza showing him her father’s research. Riza brushed it off quietly, telling him not to worry. That it was no problem.

Riza hadn’t been afraid to show him her father’s notes, however she was afraid of the way her body had reacted to him lightly caressing her skin as he looked closer and took notes. It was embarrassing, in a way. She was completely bare to him and it felt like he was seeing every inch of her. Not only that, his breath on her back had lifted every hair on her body. His touch was warm and gentle as he traced parts of the design, tickling her. It had felt like torture to Riza. The skin of her back tinkled and her stomach flipped at every brush of his fingers.

He’d grown up after leaving to go to the academy, but so had she. Her body had changed over the years, and hormones were running rampant within her. It was the most bothersome predicament Riza found herself in. Squashing it down should have been easy, she thought, but the care he showed her every time she exposed her back and the gentleness of his touch and his voice caused it to soar right back up the surface. Over time his tenderness made the whole ordeal easier to deal with. She became more comfortable around him.

However, she was just a teenager. At eighteen it was just a silly little crush on an older boy that would disappear in time, Riza was sure of it. He’s only here for the alchemy, a voice in her head whispered. She told herself that excuse to get herself through it. They’d been friends, sure, but ultimately his goal was to attain her father’s alchemy. His master’s sad, lonely daughter didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. After a few nights of telling herself that, the supressing of her emotions became slightly easier.

They hadn’t spoken too much after he’d assessed the tattoo on her back. He was busy trying to decipher it and Riza didn’t want to disturb him. As he tried to work through it, he showed her notes over dinner and it looked incredibly complicated to Riza. She could not fathom how he’d managed to decode the notes, but knew that if anyone would be able to, it would be him. Nevertheless, it was an impressive feat. She nodded along and was always open to hearing him discuss it. Riza didn’t mind because she enjoyed his company immensely. It was a welcome change from the usual silence she faced.

Apart from those moments, he was solely focussed on trying to create fire with alchemy. Riza had expected him to take residence in her father’s office – and was rather afraid he would – but he set up his study area in their living area. He poured over notes as Riza moved around him, keeping herself busy with mending projects around the house and skinning animals she’d caught in the forest for dinner.

“It’s all thanks to you,” he murmured. Roy blushed, then dipped his head, looking back at the fire.

Riza paused. “N – No,” she stammered. “You did all the work. Well done,” she congratulated. “You did it!” Her stomach was flipping again, and she cursed her hormones and her stupid crush. Damn feelings!

“Riza?”

Her breath caught in her throat as she set her eyes upon his own. They were dark, but the light of the fire and the sun was dancing within them.

“Thank you.” The sincerity in his tone was clear as day. However, there was a softness to it as well.

It caused her to pause again, enraptured by the feeling behind it and the smile on his face. She nodded stiffly and forced her smile. She’d been caught off guard. “Of course, Mr. Mustang.”

He blinked at her and his shoulders fell slightly in defeat.

Riza swallowed in response but turned her gaze away. That title kept distance between them like her father always wanted. It meant Roy could focus on his goal and his research and she could silently bury then get over her frightening childish feelings.

“I’m proud of you,” she added. “I really am. You finally did it.”

“I did,” he admitted, but his tone felt sombre.

Riza never looked back at him after she heard the shift in his mood but did wonder what he was thinking. Why did he sound so sad? She felt regret tighten her gut. She didn’t want to cause that for him, especially during what should be such a proud moment.

“Would you… Would you like to join me by the fire for a while?” His eyes were earnest, almost pleading with her to say yes.

Riza was a sucker for that look on him, especially right now, so found herself nodding slowly. “Yes,” she whispered. “I – I would love to.” She cringed at her word choice, but it was out there now. She felt it was too strong.

They settled themselves on the grass, on opposite sides of the flames and facing each other. He stoked the fire with a stick, then a frown crossed his face.

“What is it?” Riza’s question was wary.

“Would you like to see how I did it? I feel like I should show you.” Roy placed the stick on the ground. “You’re the reason this even happened, after all.”

“Yes. Of course,” she nodded, fighting off a blush. “If you want to.”

An uncomfortable feeling had settled over her. She shifted in place, noticing that was a foreign feeling when in Roy Mustang’s presence. Usually it was always the opposite. He’d only ever showed her kindness and friendship, and Riza had welcomed that wholeheartedly in her isolation in that house. However, she’d brought this on herself, she supposed, by referring him to his title. But it was necessary. Just because she felt it was necessary though, didn’t mean she had to like it.

The fire was doused, and Roy flipped the wood around, removing the charred remains from the centre, where the fire would be lit once more. Settling back in the grass, Roy steadied himself then focussed. Lifting the ignition cloth Riza had found at the market earlier that week, he exhaled then rubbed it together gently with his fingers. Riza held her breath, her eyes widening on their own accord as a spark ignited. Roy’s frown deepened and he set his jaw, shifting his position. Once more, he rubbed the fabric together and a spark jumped this time, catching onto the wood. The embers burned then flames sprang into the air, licking greedily at the sticks.

“Oh my,” Riza gasped. She leaned forward, peering at the fire, and wonder surged through her. After all his hard work and perseverance, after all she’d gone through for him to get the knowledge he required, Roy was finally able to create fire from his fingertips.

It was an incredible thing to experience.

“You… You were able to create a spark… Almost with the snap of your fingers,” Riza marvelled.

Roy cocked his head to the side, regarding her for a second longer. “A snap of my fingers,” he muttered to himself.

“What?”

His head righted, coming back to centre. “I never thought about that before.” That excitement from before returned slowly, lighting up his face.

“Never thought about what?”

“Snapping my fingers!”

Roy jumped up to his feet, putting out the fire. Riza jumped as some of the water splashed her legs, but she didn’t mind too much. The day was hot enough that it would dry quickly. She was more curious and concerned about his sudden frantic actions.

“What –?”

“You said ‘with the snap of my fingers’,” Roy replied as if that answered all of her questions.

He picked up the ignition cloth and instead of rubbing the fabric, he snapped his thumb and forefinger together. Before, the spark had been slow as he rubbed the sheets of the cloth together. This time, it was instant, springing forth to the sticks almost immediately. Riza jumped in fright, scrambling back from the sudden fire that appeared before her.

“With a snap of my fingers,” he grinned at her. Roy’s eyes were wide, and he was ecstatic. Then, he laughed quietly to himself. “Once again, you have the best ideas, Riza!”

She felt her cheeks heating up slightly and cursed herself. However, she was still pleased she’d helped.

“Thanks,” he beamed.

Riza was stunned at the sight of his smile. A warmth spread through her, and it was different from the other feelings she’d been having recently, the ones she’d dubbed as “stupid”. It reminded her first and foremost that he was her friend. He’d always tried to be there for her to the best of his ability. Riza hadn’t opened herself up to him as much as she realised she’d wanted to in the past. Hindsight was all seeing after all, and witnessing the happiness on his face in this wonderful moment reminded her of that. She was proud of him.

“Anytime, Roy,” she replied, almost shyly.

After she spoke his first name and dropped all titles, Riza didn’t think it was even possible, but his smile grew even wider.

“Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get something to celebrate.”

“Like what?”

Roy shrugged. “I’ll make something. Or go into town and buy something. We should have cake!” His hands clapped together in glee.

“A cake?” Riza wasn’t even sure if he knew how to cook something simple like soup, never mind bake a cake.

Roy grinned. “I’ll make you a cake to show my appreciation and to thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

Get distance –!

“I… I would really like that,” she admitted.

Roy almost ran into the house while Riza remained sitting on the grass. Then, her smile fell, and dread settled in her stomach. She suddenly remembered the last time he’d tried to cook something. Jumping to her feet, Riza sprinted into the house, hearing him banging about with pots and pans in the kitchen.

She didn’t need him almost burning down the house again.

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 15

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Fresh from a shower, Marinette plopped on her bed face down and grunted, hiding her flaming face in a pillow.

What was wrong with her?

Why was she such an idiot and a weakling? Couldn’t she have said no to Adrien and his stupid lunch? Why on Earth did she think this was a good idea? Especially with her apparent inability to stay anywhere close to that man for more than five minutes at a time and not have her stupid crush rear its ugly head at the slightest sign of attention from his side.

Not fully her fault though because why the hell did Adrien have to be all kinds of perfect and so over the top extra? It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t natural. Men like him didn’t exist in the real world. It was some kind of witchcraft because how else could he have managed to make her feel so much at ease that by the end of that cursed lunch Marinette didn’t even notice as she let all remnants of her past hurt drift away? Witchcraft! Humanly impossible!

And Felix! That genius weirdo! She was going to kill him… after Fashion Week… for the crime of looking so incredibly much like Adrien. If he looked like anybody but his French cousin, Marinette would’ve never gotten used to seeing that face around herself and slowly lowered her guard around either of the men sharing the uncanny similarity. She would’ve stayed cautious around Adrien and would’ve never allowed him an opportunity to sneak back into her heart. She pursed her lips, grunting into her comforter. Was it too farfetched to assume that Adrien hired Felix specifically for that reason? Because his similar looks and flirty behaviour would slowly charm her into lowering her defences around Adrien? Preposterous but possible!

Her cell phone vibrated. Marinette grabbed it, pushing the thought away. Adrien didn’t deserve any more of her time for what he’d done to her today.

Alya: So, how did it go?

Ugh. Not Alya too. They hardly spoke about Adrien in recent weeks. Alya was avoiding the subject, probably thinking Marinette still hated him. Marinette didn’t want to bring him up because Adrien confused her. All of her assumptions, all of the beliefs she held about him were rapidly crumbling down and until Marinette got a hold of herself and her emotions, she preferred to avoid talking about him as well. The only reason Alya even knew about their lunch was because Marinette let information about the unexpected invitation slip in one of their calls. Like a true reporter, Alya couldn’t let her off the hook without learning the name of the person who invited her.

Marinette: How did what go? My day? Long and hard. Home now. About to start cooking.

Alya: Your date with Adrien, M. How did your unexpected date with your new boss/former enemy go?

Marinette scoffed. It wasn’t a date! She knew that for certain because Adrien made sure to correct their waiter when he’d voiced the same assumption about the pair’s relationship status. She couldn’t blame the waiter for assuming, though, because Adrien Freaking Agreste didn’t just pop into her office with his lunch box as she had assumed he would when he asked her that morning if she was free to talk about some business over lunch. Oh, no! He freaking dressed up and took her to an upscale cafe where he had reserved a freaking VIP lounge for them—per his words—‘to talk about work in privacy’, all while looking stupidly handsome and very smug about it. Of course, the waiter would assume it was a date. Which it wasn’t!

As for how it went?

Horribly wrong!

Disastrously so!

Cautious and wary at first, both of them slowly relaxed as the lunch went on, and soon enough not only they were laughing and joking around, but Marinette dared to say there were even a few moments where he flirted with her. Also, she was pretty sure Adrien had chosen his clothes strategically to show off that toned and lean body of his.

Marinette yelled into her pillow, banging her feet against her bed. Why couldn’t he have become bald or something? Or gain a few dozen extra pounds? Lose some teeth? Smell like a dump truck? Become a bully? Why did Adrien have to be so perfect? And why did he have to be such a gentleman and attentive and let everything she’d once loved about him shine through as he made her feel like the most beautiful and amazing woman in the room, all while they talked business and business alone? How did he manage that? How dare he still linger around her thoughts even now? And why did sharing a meal with him somehow feel so familiar and nice and warm and comforting and just wonderful despite all of her reservations and initial awkwardness?

It had to be some kind of magic. A spell, perhaps. Or a potion. Some sort of witchcraft or sorcery for sure. Hadn’t she sensed that he was a danger back at Gabriel’s office during their first encounter after so long? She should’ve stayed away. But nooo! She just had to go and naively fall for his tricks. Something Marinette wouldn’t admit to anyone. Not to Alya. Not to Adrien. Certainly not to herself. She typed furiously.

Marinette: It wasn’t a date. It was a business lunch and it was nothing special. We talked about work, specifically my collection and Fashion Week.

Alya: But, girl, you couldn’t stand even his name being mentioned a month ago. Now you’re going on a non-date lunch with him. What happened?

Marinette: He’s my boss, Alya. I can’t refuse his lunch invitation if I want my collection out for Fashion Week.

Alya: Girl, it’s Adrien. You can’t seriously think he’d do something like that. Don’t tell me you went through with this ONLY because you were afraid to lose your job?

Marinette stared at the message in hesitation. Nibbling on her lip, she closed her eyes and flipped on her back with a sigh. She could’ve said there was only fear behind her motivation, but the truth was—there was none at all. Not after Adrien’s apology. Not after she’d learned his side of the story. Not after she’d had a chance to think it over, analyze her life, and see where working at Gabriel had really led her. Not after she’d admitted, if only to herself, that maybe Adrien was right after all.

He had always been nothing but a loyal friend to her before that incident. If not for her nursing a fresh heartbreak at the time and him daring to compromise one of her biggest dreams, Marinette would’ve surely given him the benefit of the doubt. But it was horrible timing. They both were vulnerable. He had made a mistake. She had reacted in the worst way possible.

Time had passed, though. They both had learned their lesson. He apologized and had done so sincerely. And maybe it was some kind of magic, or maybe Marinette just had a weakness for him, but as Adrien was inviting her to that business lunch she couldn’t find it in her to refuse despite her initial hesitation. Perhaps she was curious to learn more about this new, more mature Adrien. He had been slipping into her thoughts more frequently these days. Maybe she wanted to see if that friendship Adrien was so eagerly hinting at rekindling was even possible. Or maybe she just wanted to have lunch with someone other than Felix and his wacky character for once. However genius her assistant was, being around him all day only made Marinette crave, even if secretly, the softer, more genuine, and definitely more stable personality of his cousin. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fear that got Marinette to agree to Adrien’s invitation.

Marinette: Well, not just because of that. We did talk about the past and he apologized for his actions, and since we’re stuck working together for the next while and he’s been helping me out with my collection, I thought maybe I could try to be a little friendlier with him.

She could see the three dots appearing and disappearing as Alya typed for a while only for a short question to appear.

Alya: Then PURELY HYPOTHETICALLY—do you think it’s possible for you two to be friends again? Sometime in the future at least?  

Marinette chuckled. Adrien had mentioned he was going to see Nino for lunch in a few days and that he hoped the second time around it would go better. She wasn’t surprised at all. In a way, Marinette had expected it to happen because cutting all contact with Adrien was just as hard for Nino as it was for her. Having found out the truth now, Marinette was certain that Nino was itching to rekindle his friendship with Adrien. Under any other circumstances, Marinette might have taken that as a betrayal, but not now. Not when she knew the truth as well, and certainly not after she had gone to lunch with Adrien herself and still blushed at the memory of him kissing her hand as he dropped her off at her studio afterwards.

Marinette: Is this about Nino and Adrien trying to salvage their friendship and me being mad at Nino about that?

She hit Send and glanced at the clock. Eight already. Time to get back to the kitchen and finish cooking before Chat Noir showed up. Speaking of the devil… Chat Noir was as much at fault here as everyone else… if not more! Because while there was an unspoken agreement to hold off with a romantic relationship until better times between them, couldn’t he be more insistent or reckless when it came to Ladybug? Couldn’t he take her in his arms and proclaim his eternal love for her? Couldn’t he tell her he didn’t know how to live without her? Shower her with presents and attention? She’d probably be pissed at him for doing so, but at least she wouldn’t be so attention-starved right now to react to Adrien the way she did. Because that was all it was—a natural yearning for someone to notice her, for someone to look at her like she was their world, for someone to gently kiss her hand and open a door for her like a true gentleman that was so rare these days. She just wanted someone to love her the way she was, knowing all her faults and quirks, and not care the slightest about it.

Was that too much to ask of him?

Grunting, Marinette stomped to the kitchen, ignoring her beeping cell phone until all the remaining ingredients for their meal were out and she’d checked the stewing beef. One more beep reminded her of Alya on the line just before she started cutting the vegetables.

Alya: Maybe?

Alya: Yes. OTL

Alya: I’m sorry, M, but neither Nino nor I knew how to tell you and we do realize that Adrien hurt you and maybe we’re being bad friends here, but you know Nino. He wouldn’t sleep if he thinks he didn’t treat someone fairly and in this case, we kind of did just that. He’s dead set on making it right with Adrien. They’re having one more lunch this Saturday and he’s planning to do whatever it takes for it to go better than the last one.

Alya: Marinette? Say something cause I’m freaking out over here.

Alya: Anything?

Alya: You’re pissed at me, aren’t you?

Alya: You know I love you more than anyone else, right? I’d do anything for you.

Alya: Even break up with Nino. Do you want me to? Because, girl, I’ll do that for you and he can marry Adrien for all I care.

Alya: Ugh! Don’t tell him I said that because he might actually dump me for Adrien. The guy grew up really nice.

Alya: I shouldn’t have said that…

Alya: UGH! The man is ugly! He’s hideous! Just look at his Apollo-like looks! So nineteenth century! Old fashioned! Outdated! Nino would NEVER dump me for him, right?

Alya: Nino looks way better btw. Just so you know!

Marinette laughed. Who said she was the overdramatic one in their duo? Alya could easily give her and Chat Noir a run for their money in that department.

Marinette: Sorry, got distracted by cooking.

Marinette: Also, I wouldn’t be so sure about Nino not dumping you for Adrien. They used to be attached at the hip and now he’s feeling all guilty and sad and wants to fix everything. What if Adrien demands marriage?

Alya: Don’t even joke about that. I already invested too much in that man and I’m not giving him up to some CEO of a fashion empire. He can go jump off a cliff. I’ll fight for my man until my last breath.

Marinette: And here I thought you were ready to dump him for me.

Alya: …

Alya: True.

Alya: OTL You’re making it HARD, girl.

Marinette: When did I make it easy for you?

Alya: T_T Why am I still in this relationship?

Marinette: Because you love me more than anyone in this world apart from Nino?

Alya: Can’t blame me for that. Have you seen the man?

Marinette: LOL No blame here. You two are cute.

Alya: :thumbs-up:

Alya: Seriously, though, what do you think about the whole Adrien/Nino thing?

Marinette: I’m fine with it. I don’t think I’ll be plunging in there myself anytime soon but I don’t see why Nino shouldn’t.

Alya: Are you sure?

Marinette: Yes, I’m sure. I’m a grown-ass woman, Alya. I can be civil.

Alya: Okay. If you say so, but if you ever feel uncomfortable, let me know. We’ll figure out something.

Marinette: Will do. Have to go now. My meat is going to burn if I don’t give it my undivided attention.

Alya: See U later, girl.

Quickly firing off her farewell, Marinette got to her cooking, stirring, cutting, seasoning, and tasting. Trying to push thoughts of Adrien out of her mind because, as nice as being noticed felt, she couldn’t get any closer to him. She wasn’t a fool or a teenager anymore. Marinette knew exactly what was going on, fully realized what she was feeling.

She didn’t like it.

She spent years despising even the name of Adrien Agreste, someone who, even if unintentionally, was the cause of the biggest hurt she’d ever experienced. She spent the same amount of time being in love with Chat Noir, her loyal partner and the most important person in her life. How could she allow her old crush on Adrien surface at all, least of all so quickly after he’d reappeared in her life? It wasn’t fair.

Not to her.

Not to Chat Noir.

Especially not to Chat Noir, who had waited years for her. Marinette couldn’t fall in love with her former enemy just when a romantic relationship with Chat Noir had finally become a possibility.

She had to do something.

“Knock, knock,” Chat Noir called from the living room. “Are there any princesses in this tower? A handsome knight has come to entertain them with his awesomeness in exchange for a slice of bread.”

“In the kitchen,” Marinette shouted.

“That smells delicious,” Chat appeared behind her, peeking above her shoulder at the pot. “What are we cooking, Princess?”

Marinette couldn’t hide a smile. Princess. His old nickname for her had resurfaced recently. She missed it more than she had realized. She loved it way more than she would ever admit. “Boeuf Bourguignon.”

Chat inhaled the aroma with the most reverent expression on his face. “You’re spoiling this cat rotten.”

“I’m only paying my rent, Chat. Nice meals for a nice apartment. ‘An equal exchange’. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“I see you finally watched one of my recommendations?”

“I didn’t have time for that yet, but you’ve been quoting it so much, it was impossible for me not to remember.”

“See? I’m a good influence on you.” He grinned. “Need help?”

“Bread, if you don’t mind.”

“When have I ever?” he replied, washing his hands. “I like helping you. You make it seem so easy. I might even pick up a thing or two and not send myself to a hospital next time I try to cook by myself.”

“Maybe I should teach you then.”

“Maybe you should.”

Marinette smiled, putting the finishing touches on their dishes. “Then maybe I will.”

“I’d be forever grateful,” he practically purred, finishing slicing the bread. “How was your day? Anything fun or interesting I should be aware of?”

Marinette stilled, but composed herself a moment later. Avoid mentioning Adrien at all costs. Talk about anything but him. “Felix had a short day. He ditched me before lunch and never came back.”

“Rude. He should be punished.”

“I can’t punish him. He’s doing more work than I do, and he’s my boss’ relative, and he’s the reason you're about to eat a dish that took me almost three hours to prepare, so don’t complain. You should be thanking him instead.”

Chat let out a puff, bringing a bowl filled with bread to the dining table. “What for? Being a weirdo? He’s there to help you with your work, not make you uncomfortable. So despite all of your objections, I still maintain that if he won’t scale back on his antics, you should kick his butt to the curb.”

“Actually, he’s been getting very good at respecting my boundaries lately,” Marinette confessed as she set their meals down. “And even when he doesn’t… How to explain? The way he does all of his weird things… he’s so sincere and polite about it that it’s kind of endearing in a way.”

Chat’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. “So, you like it now?”

“More like I don’t mind it so much now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Alright. Then, I guess it’s fine?”

Marinette smiled. “Yes. It’s fine. Weird, but fine. Now, let’s eat. Boeuf Bourguignon is most delicious when it’s still steaming.”

Chat grinned, plopped on a chair and focused his gaze on the bowl in front of him. His eyes sparkled and he grabbed his fork excitedly. “Yes, ma’am! Itadakimasu!”

Marinette chuckled, sitting down as well. “Itadakimasu,” she echoed, starting on her meal. “How was your day?”

“I had lunch with an amazing person,” Chat said, his mouth full. “An old friend of mine, but we’d lost contact for a few years, so I thought lunch would be a good place to catch up. Was very nice to see she’s just as awesome as I remember her.”

She?

Marinette’s chest tightened. Her Chaton was having lunch with a girl whom he considered to be awesome and amazing while avoiding Ladybug at the same time? Yes, avoiding. There was no other explanation for what was going on in their superhero life at that moment.

Ever since Ladybug had returned to her duties, she hadn’t seen much of Chat Noir. The few times she managed to spot him, he acted skittish and distant and eager to escape as fast as he could. To her inquiry on his absences, he answered that he was making his patrols but headed home right after because of the late hours and early mornings he had. Ladybug believed him. She had no reason not to trust Chat. She thought that he was probably still mourning for his relative, and showing it only to Ladybug because only Ladybug knew about that aspect of his life.

Now, however, Marinette wasn’t so sure anymore. Her heart clenched, breathing quickening, as thoughts of Chat’s date attacked her very core. Was he avoiding his partner because he didn’t love her anymore? Or was he avoiding her because he felt guilty for being attracted to someone else, just as she found herself moping over being attracted to Adrien?

She composed herself and asked. “Is that so? Someone with potential?”

“Potential? Potential for what?” Chat blinked at her, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth.

“Potential for a romantic relationship,” Marinette explained. “Someone you would be interested in dating?”

“Dating?” Chat frowned, letting a moment slowly drift by before he shook his head. “No. She’s just a friend. You know I love Ladybug, Marinette. Why would you ask such a question?”

She let a breath out, closing her eyes for a moment. Unnecessary panic. She hadn’t lost him yet. Though, she might need to do something about it sooner rather than later because Chat Noir had been waiting for her for an absurdly long time already. And now he suddenly started to talk about an amazing, awesome person in his life. Who could guarantee that he’d be willing to wait for her much longer instead of falling in love with whoever-she-was instead?

Marinette looked back at him, childishly enjoying his meal while telling her all about his day and this amazing friend of his. She loved him. She really did. And she was holding off on him only because her life was a mess. It wasn’t anymore, though. It had gotten so much better in these last few months. Why should she continue to hold back and risk losing him?

She shouldn’t.

Her eyes widened.

That would solve all of her problems. If she were to date Chat Noir, Marinette would receive all the attention she craved from him and wouldn’t be attracted to other men. She’d give Chat all of her love and there would be none left for someone else. Adrien wouldn’t be able to make her heart stutter just by smiling at her or make her blush with an innocent wink. Chat deserved that. Plus, after years of loyally loving her, Chat Noir had more rights than anyone else to have her love and devotion.

Marinette let a smile tug at the corner of her lips. It really was the perfect solution. She’d only have to be careful going about it, considering the way Chat was acting around Ladybug lately. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She knew her Chaton and for him to avoid Ladybug, something had to be horribly wrong.

Marinette took a sip of water, observing her partner. A moment later, it all came together, just like one of her lucky charms she hadn’t used in a while.

“Say Chat,” she started carefully as soon as he’d stopped talking. “We’re friends, right?”

He grinned. “Of course, we are.”

“And as my friend, you’d tell me if there was something bothering you or you were in trouble, wouldn’t you?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

Marinette sighed. “You know how my best friend runs the Ladyblog?”

“Alya Césaire?”

“Yes. Alya. She shared a concern with me a few days ago, and I wanted to ask you about it, but it could possibly be a very private issue.”

He shrugged. “Ask away. I’m fine with you asking me anything except my identity.”

“Why have you been avoiding Ladybug?”

Chat stared at her in shock, his cat ears slowly falling down against his hair. “I… Why would you think I’m avoiding Ladybug?”

“That’s just what Alya concluded based on your reported activity and sightings. When Ladybug was absent for a little over a week, you patrolled every night. But when she returned, you’ve been scarcely seen… and last week, you didn’t patrol at all.”

He looked away, whispering. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Marinette stood up and, walking over to him, crouched by his side and laid her hand on top of his. “Chat, whatever it is, don’t you think it’ll be easier if you share it with someone? Anything is easier to carry with a friend. I should know that by now.”

His eyes filled with worry and sadness. He watched her for a full minute before whispering, “Not if that ‘something’ might cause me to lose her.”

She squeezed his hand in a reassuring gesture. “You’ll never lose her, Chat. You’ve been partners for so long. Probably went through a lot together. You’re two halves of a whole. You’ll never lose her. She loves you. She’ll understand whatever it is.”

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You’ll lose her faster if you keep avoiding her,” Marinette added. “Don’t you think she’s noticed? Can you even imagine what’s going through her head as she’s trying to figure out why her partner suddenly doesn’t want to see her anymore?”

His eyes wide, he stared at Marinette. “I… I didn’t think about it that way.”

“You don’t have to tell her details, but you have to talk to her and figure this out, or you risk losing her trust and that is the most difficult thing to fix… if it’s possible at all.”

He bowed his head, gripping his hair with his hands. “You don’t understand, Marinette. It’s something big. Really big! I… I wouldn’t even know how to start. I mean how do you tell your partner that the enemy you fought together for ten years was your father!”

Her eyes bulging, Marinette froze, goosebumps running down her skin.

Chat abruptly stopped speaking, staring at her in horror. “No! I—didn’t mean… That’s not what I meant. Hawkmoth—he isn’t—” Chat dropped his head back into his hands and groaned. “Please, don’t hate me. I didn’t know until a few weeks ago.”

Her heart racing, Marinette watched him in shock. His father? Hawkmoth was Chat Noir’s father?

“Your father?” she echoed as if in a trance.

“Was,” Chat whispered into his hands. “He passed away recently.”

Marinette flinched but shook the thought away. “Passed? You didn’t…”

Chat shook his head. “Stroke. I found out about him being Hawkmoth only after he’d been dead for a while.”

Marinette swallowed, unable to stop staring at him. How awful that must have been to discover. She couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel, what she’d do if her father ended up being Hawkmoth. If any of her relatives or friends were to be revealed as the villain who’d terrorized the city for years. No wonder Chat had been acting so strange around Ladybug. He must have felt terrible. Really, how could he tell Ladybug something like that?

Lost for words, Marinette did the only thing she could think of—she pulled him closer and wrapped her partner in a tight embrace, whispering in the crook of his neck, “I’m so sorry.”

His breathing hitched, Chat tensed at the contact, but when she tugged him even closer, he gave in and wrapped his arms around Marinette, clinging to her as if she were his lifeline.

“I should’ve known.” His voice trembled. “He was a horrible human being.”

“Still, that must have been awful to discover.”

Chat barely breathed. “Devastating.”

They stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes, silently taking comfort in one another. His breathing, ragged and erratic at first, normalized as Chat slowly relaxed. When his grip on her eased, Marinette hesitantly pulled away to take his face in her hands. He still held her in his arms, searching her face for something, looking for the answer to a question. An answer he dreaded receiving.

“You’re not your father,” Marinette said, looking at him. “Neither he nor his actions, define who you are.”

Chat let out a sigh of relief, his eyes closing with it. “Thank you.”

“And you need to tell Ladybug. She knows you. She will understand and help you get through this.”

His eyes still closed, Chat shook his head. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be ready, Chat. I don’t think anyone can ever be ready to disclose something like that, but tell me, do you trust her? Do you trust Ladybug?”

“With my life,” he whispered.

“Then tell her. Tell her everything. Tell her about your father. Tell her you love her. Everything. If you truly trust her, you know she’ll understand and won’t judge you. She’d want you to tell her so she can help you get through this. Am I wrong?”

His gaze falling to the ground, Chat thought for a few moments before looking back at Marinette. “You’re probably right. I should tell her.”

“You should.”

“And I will.”

“Tonight.”

“Tonig—What? Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight,” Marinette nodded. “Don’t delay any longer. The longer you put this off, the harder it’ll be to do. So, just go out there and tell her.”

He blinked a few times, staring at her, then let a smile sneak onto his lips. “Okay. I will. Tonight. I’ll tell her everything.”

Marinette gave him a smile and pulled him back into a hug. Her poor Chaton. He’d been through a lot. His problems were so much bigger than hers, and she’d been too wrapped up in her own mess to notice that he’d been slowly falling apart. No more. She wouldn’t allow that. Marinette would put her partner first for once and she would give him all the love he deserved.

Tonight.

Next >

[rnegitsune]

Ok so I thought I'd put together some horror stories from my time as a babymetal fan bc of how drastic the shift in the fandom has been the past year or so. For context I got into babymetal in like june of 2014 (all 3 girls were still underage at the time, I was 22; when I first got into them I thought I would be considered an older fan lmao the naivete, the innocence of new fan me wow I know now I'm not at all in the older half of the fandom esp considering I was born the same decade as su and moa), and I made this blog in I think may of 2015.

I've had people say I should compile men being gross into a post and I just couldn't do that out of fear for my own mental health but this will be pretty close. These are all my experiences with this fandom over the years; I'm definitely missing some but what I do remember should do well to cover most of how this fandom used to be vs now. It's gonna be a lot and tw for men being gross about minors.

Back in my first year or so of this blog I on multiple occasions got dms from men asking to be friends. At the time my bio only said my name and my pronouns. I've always been cautious of dms so I'd ask their age and every single one was considerably older than me. I wouldn't usually answer after that bc no thanks but they would generally try to continue convos til I blocked. The only one I still had was this one

After I put my age in my bio, which was 23 at the time, I never got a dm like that again; take from that what you will. But if you're young please be wary of this hell fandom even now. And if you're an older fan and esp an older male fan reading this, don't dm people trying to be friends. I was over 18 and it still creeped me out to no end.

One of my real first men in this fandom are disgusting moments was a blog back in like 2015 or 2016 who I had some contact with due to common interests; he was a huge yui stan and made bm content. He was like 28 or 29 at the time and I eventually noticed he would tag idols, mostly kpop girls, by their body parts (legs, butt, etc) which is disgusting enough as it is but then I saw him do the same for literal minors, like tzuyu from twice. I messaged him asking what the hell he was doing objectifying women but also actual children and he blocked me lmao. He later unblocked me to let me know that's just how he tagged things and it was my fault he had anxiety and then he blocked me again.

Back before the tumblr purge this fandom was repulsive to a degree I cannot even begin to describe. Someone would reblog something from me, I'd go to their blog and it would be underage jpop idols and japanese p*rn all the way down. I even stumbled upon a man editing underage su into p*rn gifs. Obviously no proof of that but I did go find my initial reaction to it

The number of times I'd get a follow from someone then go to their blog and it would be as mentioned above or their bio would be the most misogynistic trash I'd ever read was staggering. I genuinely considered giving up and deleting this blog so many times bc i felt oberwhelmed and outnumbered by these gross old dudes; and so the fact that this fandom has evolved into a bunch of chaotic wlw?? Amazing, I could cry.

Fun phenomenon of women running bm blogs was men sending messages asking if we liked babymetal. No joke. I think this happened to me two or three times but I spoke w other female creators at the time and it had happened to them as well. My entire blog is babymetal, and yet???

He said the weird guy idk bc he sent some random ass messages vaguely insulting me and when I responded coldly, he acted confused so I said you're some guy idk, hence the above message starting as such. Also that pic and the one up above that has my current pfp bc I just took those screenshots. Like I said I typically blocked weird dms but I guess these passed me by so I still had the messages.

Most people know the sub reddit is the worst and don't need me to tell you but it's a hellscape and I highly recommend avoiding it. A short list of things I've had to see as a result of going there: men discussing at length kano and momoko's appearances and how they look in costume vs in normal clothes. Men discussing at length the hope that the girls would marry men who aren't Japanese, a thread that was from when all 3 girls were underage. They aren't gonna marry you dude they're really not.

The insulting of billie Eilish, a 17 year old at the time, was horrible too. Su and moa got to meet her, something they were extremely excited for, and they posted a pic; the comments were disgusting as you can imagine. The yui rumors were terrible too, fatshaming, slutshaming etc all based on nothing. Some man saying the rumors about yui leaving bc, no joke this was a real rumor, she "got too fat" couldn't be true bc "look at saya." Saya being a barely 18 yo back up dancer who covered the third spot after yui left but before the avengers. Not to mention the upskirt shots from when they were minors, the constant editing of their faces onto explicit photoshoots etc. I remember being a new fan looking for a su pic on google and being horrified at the fact that one of the top suggested results after her name was “bikini;” she was 16 at the time. Also, the uptick in massively creepy posts and messages sent to bm blogs as each girl, but esp moa and yui, approached 18 was disgusting.

Now for some personal nonsense. A big reason why I haven't touched my youtube channel in months is bc I got tired of dealing with the men of this fandom. I poke fun at metal and get told I deserve to die. I say ped*philes and creepy men are gross and get a swarm of middle aged men cursing at me. Had a guy cry about how men are shamed for liking bm and then he turned around and said some gross shit about wlw. Had a guy call me racist for liking a band he also likes (and despite him having no way of knowing my own race) and tell me the babymetal fandom doesn't need my kpop feminist bullshit, which is honestly a great description and I thought about putting it in my yt about lmao. Had a middle aged man unironically say he'd never seen a man be creepy towards bm but fans su and moa's ages calling them hot was creepy. The disillusionment....the level of unawareness is astounding. If you want to see screenshots of some of these comments they are fairly recent in my don't mind me tag; I don't want to see them anymore tho bc they're infuriating so I'm not going to look at them to post here.

Essentially I haven't looked at my channel since may bc men are exhausting and rude and refuse to examine the fandoms they're a part of no matter what. They're told by a woman of the fandom that she's had bad experiences personally and they all start crying about how it's either a lie bc they haven't seen it or unimportant. I did stop reading comments in may and I will never read another one again probably as a result of this shit. Trash men being trash are not worth my time and I refuse to give them anymore of it. I do plan on making more videos tho and let my ~feminist kpop bullshit~ live in their minds rent free.

I will also continue to make fun of metal and the creepy men in this fandom bc it's important and I'm a spiteful asshole who likes disrupting these dudes perfect bubble of a fandom. It genuinely brings me so much joy seeing all the new fans recently (which sidenote if you got into them recently I am kinda curious as to how you found them; I've gotten tons of new followers and considering how inactive they are rn I'm curious). People sending messages about how they finally feel like they belong or that they have a safe space....like I don't even know what to say and I never feel like my responses fully convey how genuinely wonderful that is and how thrilled I am that this is where we're at now and I have had at least some part in it. As this post shows, my experiences have been negative for the most part so the shift recently is such a relief I cannot even begin to explain my gratitude.

So to anyone who read all of this and hasn't disintegrated from the male bullshit, thank you. Keep being yourself and fighting for your place in this fandom, esp if you're a young woman; keep making fun of the creeps and keep making wlw memes!! Babymetal's music is in such a huge way meant for girls and to see more and more finding their way to this previously hellish beyond belief fandom is incredible.

[lucretiadecoy-fics]

Chapter 6: Clap Your Hands

“What have you done, Botan?” he asked her.

There were many ways she could have answered him, and so she was never sure why she chose the answer she did give.

“I was showing my son the human world. Now it’s getting late, I have to put him to bed.”

Koenma gave her a long, hard look before sighing softly and nodding his head. They never directly discussed the boy’s origins again after that moment. Botan took him to her room, and, unfortunately, that were where she remained with him for the next several weeks. Despite arriving home with him and telling herself she would return to Yukina within days, she never even got that chance thanks to just how much work the boy was. She made the mistake of unbinding him, and then had to expend all her energy maintaining a barrier to contain him within her room as he went on a rampage she thought would never end. He was destructive and dirty and angry and vicious, and he was incredibly dextrous, effectively wielding any object as a weapon and running, jumping and somersaulting over everything. He burned Botan’s bedding, and when she cried and told him it was a cruel thing to do when she was so tired, he laughed at her. After days of sleepless suffering, Botan became desperate to sedate him somehow, desperate to make a connection to him, to make him understand her pain and to understand that she just wanted to care for him.

She became so desperate, she unearthed a mixtape Kuwabara had recorded and distributed copies of to all his friends. He had written the name of the artist on the front, and she could vaguely recall that he had told her it was a selection of music by the twin brother of a member of Megallica, who, in his opinion, was an under-rated artist. There was also something about the brother originally being a member of Megallica, but he left the band because of artistic differences and his brother took over, but his brother had since died, and Kuwabara was hopeful the exiled brother would return to the band, but she could not remember the brother’s name, and she could not even read the name that was written on the tape.

She put the music on, and, for the first time in days, the boy stopped moving. He went very, very still, his feral, maniacal perma-grin slowly easing, his wide, wild eyes slowly softening, and curiosity overtook rage as he turned towards the stereo, padding towards it – he was still completely naked as he would not stay still long enough for Botan to dress him – and staring at it in fascination. Botan had thought the tape would have contained songs, but apparently it was just rhythmic acoustic guitar music: but it seemed to have put the boy into a soothing trance. Botan sank onto her bed and tried not to cry. She started nodding her head in rhythm to the music, and the boy turned to her, looking up at her with large, curious eyes. He actually looked like a child in that moment, and he almost looked cute – but Botan was still somewhat wary. When he started to nod his head along with her, she smiled and clapped her hands along with her nods: and, to her utter disbelief, the boy smiled sweetly and started clapping with her.

Botan sank off her bed, kneeling down in front of the boy as tears of joy and relief filled her eyes. They clapped their hands and nodded along, and his face became softer and sweeter. She got a little too confident, as she held out her hands for him to clap his hands against hers, and when he did, he almost broke her wrists with his ungodly strength. She yelped and he laughed, but it was not the sinister laugh he had been making before. After dancing around to a few songs, the boy sat down, his hands slowly fell to his sides, and soon after, he lay down, curled up in a ball, and fell soundly asleep.

Botan leaned over him, waving a hand over him. When his little chest continued to rise and fall steadily, his eyes remained closed and his face soft, she dared to stroke his head, smiling to herself when his spiky hair sprang back into place behind the pressure of her fingers. She dared to let her barrier down, and she turned her attention to the mixtape, the thought then occurring to her that it was sickeningly ironic that the one thing to calm Kuwabara’s wild emiko child was one of Kuwabara’s wild mixtapes. Still perplexed by the writing on the cassette box, Botan called Keiko from her communication mirror, laughing off the comments Keiko made about how frazzled she looked before showing Keiko the tape and asking her what it said.

“Oh no!” Keiko had giggled. “You actually listened to that tape? I’m sure Kuwabara would be pleased one of us did! But the name, it’s a foreign name. Apparently Daiki Yoshida – the twin brother of Daichi Yoshida – wanted to explore Latin guitar music or something. That’s the name of his band. It’s pronounced Charanko.”

As Keiko said the word, the boy on the floor lifted his head, rubbing at large, sleepy eyes with his tiny, chubby fists.

“Charanko?” Botan repeated.

The boy looked directly at her and she smiled.

“Charanko,” she said softly.