#echo's the master mind behind the pranks

[crashlanding-skywalker]

my domino twins playlist

source: @spotify-official

[dxrlingluv]

Pranking the other gods with Hermes as your partner and crime? 👉👈 Gender neutral pls!!

Thanks you

Partners

Summary : Pranking the gods with your partner in crime, Hermes.

A/N : Please do support me by joining my discord server, thank you! Hermes art belongs to Zieru.

WARNING : GN!Reader, Platonic relationship… or is it?

Word Count : 2.2k

The golden halls of Mount Olympus were, to put it mildly, a snooze-fest. Zeus was delivering his ten-thousandth lecture on the proper etiquette for thunderbolt appreciation. Hera was seen polishing her crown, occasionally shooting glares that could curdle ambrosia at anyone who dared breathe too loudly. Ares was sharpening a sword with such vigor it sounded like a chorus of angry cicadas. In short, it was just another Tuesday.

You were perched on a cloud, idly trying to teach a cherubic cloud-sheep to play fetch with a miniature lightning bolt—It wasn't going well – the sheep mostly just looked confused and slightly singed—when a familiar blur of winged sandals and an even more familiar grin appeared beside you.

"Bored, darling?" Hermes asked, already knowing the answer. He didn't so much sit as materialize in a state of relaxed readiness, one eyebrow arched in a way that screamed 'I have an idea, and it's probably against several divine decrees.'

"Hermes," you sighed, giving up on the sheep, which had now decided the mini-bolt was a chew toy. "If I have to listen to one more syllable about thunderbolt acoustics, I might actually volunteer for Sisyphus's rock-rolling duty. At least that's got a consistent rhythm."

Hermes snapped his fingers. "My dearest partner in potential pandemonium, you read my mind! Or, well, I read yours. Perks of the job. Anyway, this celestial serenity? It's offensively dull. I was thinking Olympus could use a little... redecorating." His eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that promised laughter, chaos, and possibly a few minor divine tantrums.

"Redecorating?" you echoed, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Are we talking a new color scheme for the throne room, or something a bit more... interactive?"

"Oh, 'interactive' is my middle name," Hermes declared, puffing out his chest slightly. "Well, it's not, but it should be. I'm thinking a series of carefully curated experiences designed to liven things up. A festival of delightful disorder, if you will. And I, the God of Messengers, Thieves, and Excellent Ideas, require a co-conspirator of your particular genius."

And so, the Great Olympian Prank War was conceived, not with a bang, but with a shared smirk and the rustle of winged sandals itching for action.

Phase One: The King's New Squeak Toy

"Alright," you whispered, huddled with Hermes behind a particularly fluffy cloud that offered excellent surveillance of Zeus's private study. "Target number one: Papa Zeus. The man takes himself more seriously than a philosopher contemplating the meaning of a particularly stubborn olive."

Hermes nodded, already vibrating with barely contained energy. "The plan is simple, yet elegant. We swap his Master Bolt – the big, dramatic one he uses for emphasis – with... this!" He produced, with a flourish, a gigantic rubber chicken. It was bright yellow, had googly eyes that seemed to follow you, and when squeezed, emitted a sound that was less 'mighty thunder' and more 'strangled duck.'

"Perfection," you breathed. "But how do we create a diversion? He guards that bolt like Cerberus guards... well, you know."

Hermes winked. "Leave that to your friendly neighborhood speedster. You just be ready for the fallout. I predict a seventy percent chance of divine apoplexy, twenty percent confused sputtering, and a solid ten percent chance he actually finds it funny. Nah, who am I kidding? Zero percent on that last one."

True to his word, Hermes was a blur. One second, Zeus was admiring his bolt, the next, he was distracted by a sudden, inexplicable infestation of hyperactive squirrels — a Hermes special delivery — in Hera's nearby rose garden. The ensuing shrieks and calls for extermination provided the perfect window. Hermes zipped in, made the swap, and was back by your side, dusting off his hands, before Zeus even noticed the squirrels were, in fact, an illusion.

Later that day, during an emergency council meeting called to discuss the "grave threat" of the phantom squirrels, Zeus prepared to make a thunderous proclamation. He raised his hand, a dramatic pause filling the hall. He opened his mouth, ready to unleash verbal fury and a crackle of lightning...

SQUEEEAAAK!

The sound echoed. Zeus stared at the rubber chicken in his hand as if it had personally insulted his entire lineage. Poseidon, mid-sip of his saltwater smoothie, choked and sprayed a fine mist over a horrified Demeter. Apollo outright howled with laughter, falling off his sunbeam. Athena, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

"WHAT," Zeus bellowed, his face turning a fascinating shade of purple that clashed spectacularly with the yellow chicken, "IN THE NAME OF TARTARUS IS THIS?!"

Hermes, leaning against a pillar and buffing his nails, called out innocently, "Having some technical difficulties, Father?"

You had to stuff your fist in your mouth to keep from exploding with laughter.

Phase Two: Aphrodite's Azure Adventure

"Next up," you said, consulting the "Master Plan of Mayhem" you'd scribbled on a spare piece of ambrosia-scented parchment, "Aphrodite. She's been a bit too smug about her new 'Glow of Eternal Perfection' skin cream."

Hermes tapped his chin. "Ah, yes. The one that supposedly smells like 'a thousand dawn-kissed roses and the tears of unicorns who've just won the lottery.' We can do better."

Your grin was positively wicked. "I was thinking something a little more... vibrant."

The plan involved a delicate operation: replacing Aphrodite's prized cream with a concoction of your own. It still smelled divine, but it had a secret ingredient: a highly concentrated, fast-acting, but entirely harmless dye that would turn skin a brilliant, shimmering cerulean blue.

While Aphrodite was engrossed in a heated debate with Eros about the proper trajectory for love arrows: "Aim for the heart, not the kneecap, darling! It's about romance, not orthopedic surgery!"

Hermes, moving like a whisper, made the switch. He even left a tiny, complimentary "sample" of the blue goo for Ares, labelled "Macho Man Muscle Rub - Extra Potent!"

The results were spectacular. Aphrodite emerged for the evening symposium looking like a very surprised, very beautiful Smurf. There was a collective gasp. Hephaestus, her ex husband, actually dropped his hammer.

"My... my glow!" she shrieked, catching her reflection in Apollo's polished lyre. "I'm... I'm BLUE!"

Dionysus, never one to miss an opportunity for revelry, immediately declared, "Blue is the new gold, my dear! Utterly divine! A bold statement! You're a trendsetter!" He then tried to convince everyone to paint themselves blue in solidarity, an idea that was met with mixed, but mostly horrified, reactions.

Meanwhile, a distant roar of "HERMES! YOU INSIGNIFICANT GNAT! MY PECS ARE THE COLOR OF A FORGET-ME-NOT!" echoed from Ares's training grounds.

You and Hermes shared a high-five, nearly collapsing with silent laughter behind a statue of Hestia, who simply shook her head with an air of long-suffering amusement.

Phase Three: Hades Gets a Hobby

"Okay, this one's a bit more challenging," you mused, tapping the parchment. "Hades. He's not easily ruffled. And frankly, a bit scary."

Hermes waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense! Uncle Hades just needs a little... brightening up. A new passion! A hobby!"

"And what hobby did you have in mind for the Lord of the Underworld?" you asked, skeptical.

Hermes's grin was pure, unadulterated mischief. "Competitive flower arranging."

It took some doing. First, Hermes had to "acquire"—he insisted it was a long-term loan—several crates of the brightest, most cheerful flowers from Persephone's secret garden in the Underworld – much to her initial confusion and eventual begrudging amusement when she figured out who was behind it. Then, you both snuck into Hades's throne room—which, surprisingly, had excellent acoustics for dramatic pronouncements but terrible lighting for floral artistry.

You carefully arranged the flowers into elaborate, almost aggressively cheerful bouquets, placing them on his obsidian throne, his desk of damned souls' paperwork, and even perching a particularly vibrant sunflower on Cerberus's middle head. The pièce de résistance was a giant banner you'd fashioned from black silk that was borrowed from Nyx and glowing phosphorus borrowed from... well, best not to ask, proclaiming: "HADES: OLYMPUS'S PREMIER PETAL PUSHER!"

When Hades next entered his domain, he stopped dead. He stared at the explosion of color. He stared at the banner. He stared at Cerberus, who wagged his tail, the sunflower bobbing merrily.

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant wailing of the tormented which was the standard Underworld ambiance. Then, a slow, creaking sound emerged from Hades. It took you a moment to realize he was... chuckling. A dry, rusty chuckle, like tombstones rubbing together, but a chuckle nonetheless.

"Flower arranging," he rumbled, picking up a daisy and examining it with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Persephone will be... intrigued." He didn't even seem mad. In fact, he looked almost... pleased?

Hermes looked at you, bewildered. "Well, that was unexpected. I was banking on at least a minor curse."

"Maybe he's got a secret soft spot for daisies?" you offered.

The Grand Finale: The Ambrosia Switcheroo

For your grand finale, you decided to go big. The annual "Feast of Eternal Boredom" — as you and Hermes had privately nicknamed it— was approaching. The highlight was always Zeus's toast, followed by the ceremonial sipping of the "Nectar of Unending Power," a beverage so potent it made mortals spontaneously combust. Allegedly; no one had actually tested it.

"This year," Hermes declared, rubbing his hands together, "the Nectar of Unending Power will have a little... extra kick."

Your "extra kick" was a carefully brewed potion, with ingredients sourced from Hecate's 'for experimental use only' shelf, thanks to a very fast Hermes, that had a peculiar side effect: for one hour, everyone who drank it would speak only in rhyming words. And, for an added dash of fun, their hair would temporarily change to the color of their deepest, most secret admiration.

The feast was in full swing. Gods and goddesses mingled, blissfully unaware of the impending poetic and chromatic chaos. Zeus stood, raising his goblet. "To Olympus!" he boomed. "May our power never fade, and our enemies always be afraid!"

He drank. The other gods followed suit.

A moment of silence. Then Apollo, his golden hair suddenly streaked with the vibrant purple of something you could almost hint as a Hyacinth, blinked and said, "My lyre feels quite absurd, I've just spoken a rhyming word!"

Pandemonium.

Hera, whose usually brown hair was now a shocking shade of peacock blue—matching her favorite bird, not Zeus, notably— shrieked, "Oh dear, what is this curse I feel? This rhyming speech is so unreal!"

Ares, his hair an unsurprisingly shade of soft pink, roared, "By my spear, this is a fright! I cannot seem to speak things right!"

Aphrodite, whose own hair was now a mosaic of colors reflecting at least three different minor deities and a particularly handsome satyr, giggled, "My beauty shines, a vibrant hue, though rhyming words feel strange and new!"

Even Hades, whose hair remained stubbornly black (some secrets are best kept in the dark, apparently), grumbled, "This feast has gone quite off the track, I wish these rhymes I could take back."

You and Hermes, who had cleverly substituted your own drinks with plain nectar, were nearly in tears from trying to suppress your laughter. Hermes's hair had a faint shimmer of H/C, and you noticed your own had a distinct golden brown mirroring his. You both caught each other's eye and quickly looked away, a new, unexpected warmth blooming alongside the mirth.

The sight of the most powerful beings in the cosmos struggling to express themselves in iambic pentameter while sporting hairdos that revealed their innermost affections was, by far, your greatest masterpiece.

The Aftermath

The rhyming eventually wore off, as did the technicolor hairstyles—though not before several embarrassing admissions were accidentally poetically declared. Olympus was in an uproar, but beneath the bluster, there was an undeniable lightness. For the first time in centuries, the gods had been genuinely, thoroughly surprised.

Zeus, after a week of demanding to know who was responsible—and secretly enjoying the fact that Hera's hair had not turned thunderbolt-yellow(seriously when will Hera get the happy marriage she deserves), eventually just sighed and ordered a new batch of nectar, "And for Olympus's sake, Hermes, make sure this one isn't... lyrical."

You and Hermes became legends, the Bonnie and Clyde of divine buffoonery. Whenever boredom threatened to settle over Olympus, a nervous energy would ripple through the halls. Gods would check their ambrosia, guard their symbols of power, and eye their hair with suspicion.

"You know, darling" Hermes said to you one evening, watching a particularly spectacular sunset paint the clouds, "we make a pretty good team."

"That we do, Wing-Foot," you replied, bumping his shoulder. "So, what's next on the agenda? I hear Poseidon's been getting a little too proud of his trident lately..."

Hermes's grin was blinding. "My thoughts exactly, partner. My thoughts exactly."

And as the stars began to prick the darkening sky, the universe seemed to hold its breath, wondering what delightful chaos the two of you would unleash next. Because with Hermes as your partner-in-crime, life was never, ever dull.

[hoernypie]

Boo! You whore

God knows why you agreed to visit the abandoned house with your friends, but what made you agree to play with the Ouija board? But all of that should worry you less considering the weird things that happened during summoning ghosts. You were now alone in the house - trapped inside after your friends rushed outside leaving you alone and despite trying everything you couldn't get out.

While exploring the house you felt a coldness surrounding you when you entered the master bedroom. You slowly walked to the window to see your last friend flee in their car before jumping when the door slammed. You slowly turned away feeling afraid, breathing the air out feeling relief that it was probably the draft.

On wobbly legs, you walked to the door trying to open it, but nothing budged. You shake the doorknob while panic again rises - now not only you're stuck in an abandoned house but also in the master bedroom on the second floor. Your vision gets blurred because of the tears filling your eyes when you feel someone embracing you, a cold gust of wind on your neck, but when you look down there isn't anyone standing behind you. You scream and bang the door, nearly ripping the doorknob off the door as someone's hands make their way under your skirt, "Shhh... Calm down, my dearest... You wanted to meet with me, right? Calling me and bringing from the other side. Did you miss me that badly...?" the voice echoes in your ears.

You shout when an invisible force drags you onto the bed, the cold feeling on your ankles, moving higher on your legs - almost felt like kisses. "My love, why are your clothes like that? You look like a courtesan," you prep yourself with your elbows just to see nothing, did you finally start getting crazy or was it some weird prank of your friends? Your breath turns shallow when the ethereal hands slide to the clasp of your skirt, watching in awe how the fabric slid off you, pooling on the floor. The rest of your clothes follow the skirt, landing on the floor, leaving you naked on the old bed. Your brain screamed to try to run away but your body wanted to stay, manifesting it with tingling between your legs as his touch grew bolder, his spectral hands caressing your breasts and sliding down to your stomach, leaving a trail of coolness that made your skin tingle.

You could feel his hands gripping your inner thighs, despite the lack of his presence, as he gently parted your legs apart. The sensation of the cold tongue on your sensitive flesh made your eyes roll back as you arched back, mewling out in pleasure. His movement grew more urgent, his tongue darting and flicking with a finesse that had your body trembling with need. Each pass over your clit sent you closer to the edge, pushing you to climax. Your fingers curled into the bedsheets, hips bucking involuntarily as his mouth worked its magic, bringing you closer and closer to a release. "My dear, you taste as sweet as the day they parted us away," he murmured while your mind started turning into a mushy mess.

The ghost's relentless work sent you spiraling over the edge, your body shaking as for the first time you'd experienced overwhelming pleasure. As you lay down, panting while your heart raced, you felt his weight shift, his body aligning with yours. He slid into you, the sensation making you completely overstimulated as his presence melded with yours.

The air grew thicker as the ghost claimed you fully, thrusting deep and slow, his every movement resonating through your soul. As your moans grew louder, he increased his tempo, his strokes becoming more fervent. As your breathing turned more and more shallow he leaned down, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his voice haunting your mind. "In the endless cycle of existence, our paths cross time and again, defying fate. Our souls yearn for each other, drawn together across the ages, unable to resist the pull of our shared destiny," he said into your ear as you came undone. As you lay there, your body was quivering while the cold arms held you tightly wrapped. An odd but weirdly familiar feeling, almost as comforting as the embrace of a living lover, and you knew that nothing would be the same after that night.

Not long after that you're visits in this house became you're routine every night, trying to learn more about the ghost.

[professorsnape394]

DAY 14: Potion Predicaments

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😠

Prompt: Trick

Summary: Y/N gets back at Snape for interfering with the Gryffindor students one too many times.

A/N: Part 1 to the 'Trick' and 'Treat' prompts. Something a little bit different but I hope you all like it.

Warnings: Pranks. Unwilling intake of potions (none harmful).

Word Count: 3123

Credits to Gif Creator.

“That man is infuriating.” I yelled, pacing behind my desk.

I was confronted with the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, all looking at me for guidance. They had traipsed into my office mere minutes ago, after their practice was due to begin, looking forlorn and pissed off. They all suddenly began to speak at once.

“This is the third time this month he’s let them steal our time slot for practice.”

“What gives Slytherin the right to train over us?”

“Can’t you speak to him, Professor Y/L/N, he won’t listen to any of us.”

I raised my hand to silence the rabble of teenagers.

“Of course, I’ll speak to him, Miss Bell. Not that I think it will do much good, that man answers to no one but himself.”

As Ginny Weasley had pointed out this was the third time Severus Snape had allowed his students priority of the Quidditch pitch over mine, and it was threatening to become a weekly occurrence.

I knew something had to be done about the situation, but I had tried talking to him before and yet still the issue continued. Like I said, Snape wouldn’t listen to me. Short of taking the issue to Dumbledore, which is not something I planned on doing, there wasn’t many other options. But I knew something had to be done, and soon.

“I’ll deal with the issue as soon as I can. For now, move your practice to the following day, I’ll let you all know when it had been resolved.”

The team groaned collectively, and began pouring out of the room all at once.

“Fred, George. Do you mind staying a minute.” I called to the Weasley twins, a thought suddenly occurring to me.

It was well known that they had a proclivity for mischief; causing havoc around the school since their very first week here at Hogwarts. And for once I found that their particular set of skills may in fact be a benefit. At the very least it would teach Snape a lesson.

My conversation with the twins lasted no more than a few minutes before the details of my plans were set in stone. It hadn’t taken much convincing, or rather any, to persuade them into helping me. The three of us had concocted a plan that would have Severus Snape paying for how badly he treated my house.

“And you give us full permission to do this?” Fred clarified.

“And we won’t get in any trouble if we’re caught, you’ll take the blame?” George added.

“Yep, and Yep. Just make sure you don’t mess with anything that could be fatal, just things that could inconvenience him for a bit. Do you think you’ll manage it.”

“Easy.” They said together.

“We’ve been pranking Snape since first year, we know his potions cupboard inside and out by now.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting in my office once you’re done. I’ll vouch for your whereabouts.”

The twins high-fived, faces looking like they had just been given the keys to the kingdom. An exploding cauldron, filled with countless potions whose very aroma would have even the most intense effect. It was genius.

~

Allowing Severus one last chance to redeem himself before my plan was set into action, I paid him a visit that evening to confront him for the third time that month.

“Enter.” He droned upon hearing my knock echo through his office.

“Severus.” I greeted him, storming my way up to his desk. “We have to talk.”

The Potion’s Master barely lifted his head from his marking when he spoke.

“Again, Miss Y/L/N. What could I possibly do for you now?”

“It’s Professor Y/L/N.” I corrected. “Or better yet just call me Y/N. And you know fine well what you can do.”

“Care to elaborate?” He said boredly.

“My Gryffindors have been deprived of their practice time yet again. By none other than the Slytherins.”

“I see not what this has to do with me.”

“You are the one who gave them permission, Severus, or have you already forgotten?”

“My house require practice for their upcoming game.” He offered no apologies.

“Oh, and mine do not?” I folded my arms defensively across my chest.

“The damage is done now, Professor Y/L//N. What exactly do you expect me to do about it.”

“I expect you not to do it again. I am sick and tired of coming down here and trying to reason with you when you refuse to even look me in the eye.” Feeling even more pissed off now, I found myself practically yelling at the man.

Severus finally, reluctantly, looked up from his papers.

“If my students in my house come to me with a request, Miss Y/L/N, it is my duty to help then in whatever way I am able, as I’m sure you well know.”

“But not at the expense of other students. Don’t you see what you’re doing isn’t fair.” I threw my hands in the air, exasperated with the whole conversation.

“Unfortunately, life isn’t fair. Now if there’s nothing else?”  The professor shot me a stern gaze, his eyes finally meeting mine.

I opened my mouth to speak but came up with nothing. He had his chance. With a final sigh I trudged out of his office, feeling his stare burning into my back as I left.

At least now that last shred of guilt I felt for what I had planned had immediately been squashed upon visiting Snape. He deserved everything that was coming to him.

~

The following evening the plan was set in motion.

I waited patiently in my office, as I said I would, anticipating the twins return from setting up the prank.

Not much long later, they sprinted through my door; practically barricading themselves in with their bodies.

“Is it done?” I jumped up at their entrance.

“We think so.” George panted breathlessly.

“What does that mean, you think so? I pressed.

“We heard the bang.” Fred smiled.

“And his scream.” His brother added.

“He swore, like a lot.”

“A lot, a lot.”

“Is he hurt?” I wasn’t sure why I bothered to ask.

“No. Just pissed I think.”

“Good, it’s what he deserves.” I finally relaxed.

The three of us hid out in the safety of my office until we could be sure Severus would not come knocking.

~

The next morning Severus was not seen at breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.

The same happened the day after that.

And the day after that.

Eventually my stress and curiosity got the better of me and I finally enquired about his absence.

“One of the students broke into his classroom and set something explosive off.” One professor explained.

“He’s under the influence of a dozen different potions but he has no idea what they are.” Another joined the conversation.

“He’s been holed up in his office for days trying to figure it out.”

“I heard that if he doesn’t return to teaching soon, Dumbledore has been ordered by the Ministry to let him go.”

“What?!” I gasped, listening to the information my colleagues had gathered over the past few days. “Shouldn’t they have worn off by now?”

“Because of the rare combination of the ingredients, there is no telling when it will wear off. Or if it will even wear off at all, the only solution is to find a cure for each potion individually and hope for the best.” Minerva confirmed as she took control of the conversation.

“So, he has to know what they all are?” I pondered.

“He’s working through it as we speak. I believe he has already successfully identified a few.”

“I should go see him.”

“Severus isn’t the most gracious host on the best of days.” She warned. “I don’t believe he is taking any visitors at the moment. I think it’s best if you let him be for now.”

Not bothering to heed Minerva’s word, I mentally prepared to pay a visit to the infamous dungeon bat. If only because the guilt had begun to eat me alive. But first I had to speak to the perpetrators of the prank.

“What did you do to him?” I questioned the Weasley’s upon summoning them to my office.

“Exactly what you said to do; inconvenienced him”

“Nothing will actually hurt him.”

“I only meant for it to last a few hours; it’s been days.” I cried.

“He deserves everything he got for all he’s done to us.” Fred huffed.

“You need to remember boys; Severus has a job, one that he is currently unable to do. Anymore time off and he’s at risk of getting fired.”

“Even better, then we’ll get rid of him for good.”

“He doesn’t deserve that.” I shook my head.

Fred and George shared a knowing look that said they thought otherwise.

“I’ll need a list of everything that you gave to him.”

Fred hissed through his teeth, while George shook his head slowly.

“No can do, I’m afraid.”

“What?” My eyes bulged; this was the only plan I had to help Snape save his job.

“We didn’t keep a list; it was more of a fire at will situation.”

“We just grabbed anything that wasn’t dangerous and chucked it in.”

I buried my head in my hands, utterly defeated.

“Okay, I guess you’re dismissed.” I sighed.  “I’ll have to figure it out myself.”

~

“Severus.” I rattled on the door erratically. “Severus, open the door.”

“Go away.” He growled from inside.

“I’m not leaving here until you open the door so you might as well get it over with.”

The Potion’s Master grumbled agitatedly, but eventually, after a long pause and a few muffled curse words, Severus opened the door.

I expected the worse from his reaction, wincing I looked the man up and down, scrutinising his features.

Fortunately, there wasn’t too much different about Severus’ appearance. Well…besides his hair; being that it was now bright blue and sticking up on end. It was a struggle to stop myself from bursting out into hysterics, but I bit my lip and silenced myself knowing he would did not see the humour in it.

The worst of the prank had manifested itself in different internally; most notably the chronic hiccoughing Snape could not seem to put a stop to.

“I mean, it could be worse.” I covered my mouth to hide my reaction.

“It is not amusing, Miss Y/L/N. Once I find out who did this to me there will be hell to pay.”

“Do you have any idea who it was?” I ventured.

“The usual suspects; those infernal Weasley twins.”

“It wasn’t them.” I rushed to defend. “I mean, it couldn’t have been them. They were serving detention with me that whole evening.”

Severus hummed, unconvinced. Slowly he opened the door a little wider and disappeared back into his classroom.

I took this as an invitation to follow him in.

The room was clouded from the steam of a dozen different cauldrons all bubbling at once; their different scents mixing in the air to create an aroma of confusing smells. It was a sensory overload, but one Severus seemed used to. The thick fog of smoke didn’t seem to faze him as he continued to work away like usual. He had returned to his desk, yet again hunched over numerous pieces of parchment paper.

“How many have you figured out?” I asked.

“Seven. So far.” He ran a hand through his cobalt hair. “But I only have the antidote for two of them.”

“Hence all the cauldrons.”

“Correct. I have taken to brewing as many counter potions as I can think of so when I do discover what infernal afflictions have been forced upon me, I am able to rid myself of them as soon as possible.”

“Let me help.” I begged. It was clear all this work would be too much for one person to tackle alone, and now he had the pressure of a ticking clock to consider.

“Why would you want to do that?” He looked at me sceptically.

“Because I don’t want you to lose your job.”

Severus stopped scanning the page, and stared up at me blankly.

“I see word has gotten out of my precarious employment status; news does travel fast.”

“Let me help you.” I repeated.

Severus dropped his head with a resigned sigh.

“Okay.”

A pleased smile spread across my face.

“Budge up.” I ordered, dragging another chair behind his desk. “Let me get a proper look at you.”

“You really think looking at me is going to help? I have studied myself countless times and have come up with nothing, and I think I possess more knowledge on the subject than you do.”

“I just thought that maybe a fresh set of eyes would be a benefit.” I huffed.

Severus continued to avert his gaze from me, refusing to look me in the eye.

“Fine. Then show me what you have so far.” I snatched the parchment from his grasp. One was the inventory list of his store cupboard which he seemed to be cross referencing to account for what was missing. The other was a list of his possible ailments, a few having already been scored out.

“Tell me what you’ve found so far.?”

“Within the first few minutes I was able cure two of my afflictions.” He stated plainly.

“What were they?”

“Babbling Beverage and Elixir to Induce Euphoria.”

This time I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That must have been fun for you.”

“It was hell.” He glared.

“At least they were easy to identify. What else?”

“I’m currently brewing the cure for a few more; Hair Dyeing and Hair-Raising potions, and Hiccoughing Solution.”

“That much is obvious.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

“I also took the antidotes for both a Fatiguing Infusion and Befuddlement Draught. But neither seem to have taken affect yet.”

“Hmmm.” I scanned my eyes between each parchment, wondering why they might not have worked. “What if it’s not taken affect because you’re curing the wrong potion. What if it’s something similar like a Confusion concoction or a Dizziness Draught.”

Severus’ brows shot up his forehead, it was clear he had not considered this possibility.

“You could be on to something.”

“Do you have the antidote for either of them.”

“I believe I do, let me go check.” He rounded the edge of his desk, disappearing into this store cupboard.

Severus and I continued to work through his list for the next day and a half; with me helping him in the brewing of the cures crossing off item after item on his lists.

In that time, we were able to cure him of all visible affects, and discover almost all of the missing potions used in punishing him, which were; Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Babbling Beverage, Hair-Dyeing Potion, Hair-Raising Potion, Hiccoughing Solution, Confusing Concoction and, as we eventually discovered, Drowsiness Draught not Fatiguing Infusion.

As we sat waiting for the final cure to finish brewing Severus’ stomach growled.

“Hungry?” I asked realising we had skipped lunch.

“Not particularly. Though now that I think about it, it has been doing that a lot more recently.”

Both our eyes widened as the realisation hit.

“Garrotting Gas?” I wondered.

“It appears so.”

“Do you have the cure.”

“Yes.”

“Then go take it, quick. Let’s see if we’re right.” I squealed with excitement.

Severus dashed to his stores, and downed the entire contents of a small crystal vial.

We waited.

Silence.

“Has it stopped?”

“I think so.”

I cheered gleefully, noticing the ghost of a smile appear on Severus’ face.

“Finally! Surely that is all of them now.” I prayed, flopping back down into my chair.

“Let’s hope so.” He sighed.

Silence fell around the room as Severus’ gaze landed on me. His eyes were softer than I had ever seen them, staring at me in almost awe-like state. The weight of the pressure he had been feeling now gone, Severus allowed himself a moment to relax.

“Thank you, Y/N, for helping me. It really means a lot.” My eyes snapped to his, it was the first time he had ever called me by my first time. I returned his almost-smile.

“Really it was no bother. Actually, I sort of feel a bit guilty bec-“

The professor silenced the words from my mouth with a wave of his hand. He didn’t seem to care about what I had to say at this moment. Continuing to keep his eyes locked onto mine, he slowly made his way across the classroom towards me.

“I mean it, Y/N.” He said sincerely. “I am so very grateful to have you in my life. Your beauty and your wit are simply astounding to me, so much so I find myself struggling to even look at you when you are near. You are such an incredible woman.”

“What?” I looked at him dumbfounded, my body tensing as he stopped at me feet.

“I know I must piss you off sometimes, but I mostly do it on purpose because it means I get to see you more. You only ever seem to visit when you’re angry with me. You’re adorable when you’re angry with me”

“Severus, what are you saying?” I laughed nervously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.” He confessed. “I like you; I always have, I’ve just never known how to tell you before now.”

“Ah.” The penny drops. “I think we may have discovered another potion.”

Severus raised a single eyebrow.

“Amortentia. Or some other generic love potion.” I got up from my chair and started rummaging through his cupboards once more. “You’re clearly infatuated with me.” I laughed again.

“Y/N.” Severus whispered from the other room.

“Two minutes, I’m just double-checking what potion it is.”

“Y/N.” He repeated.

“Just a second.” I called back.

“Y/N, I don’t keep love potions in my stores.” He spoke louder this time.

My hands froze mid rummage.

“What did you just say?” I emerged slowly from the room.

“I don’t keep love potions in my stores. I brew it fresh when it comes up on the curriculum, and dispose of it immediately, I see no benefit it keeping it in my stores, it poses no purpose to the welfare of the school and I-“

“Wait Severus, what are you saying exactly? Why else would you be saying any of this?”

Without a word he rose from his seat, and disappeared into the store room. I stood with bated breath while he furiously searched his shelves. Finally, he emerged from the room, face even paler than usual.

“Veritaserum.” He stated simply.

My eyes rapidly searched his face for any sign of humour before understanding finally dawned.

Was Severus Snape in love with me?

.

.

.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel @lizlil @entirelymesmerising @mikariell95 @snapefiction @a-queen-and-her-throne @amazingzou @peridot-pineapple @snapesno1thighrider @kittenlittle24 @forfaehou @caseydoodles98

[lou-struck]

Operation: Stay Away Cupid Pt. 4

Obey Me! Datatables (minus Luke x Mc!)

Featuring: Simeon, Diavolo, and Barbatos

Warnings: Lap Sitting, Shoulder Rubs, Asmo using his charm (not on reader),

~ As your Valentine's Day starts to wind down you seem to be coming up with more questions than answers as you observe everyone's odd behavior.

MASTERLIST HERE

Asmodeus’s jaw is clenched as he walks through the empty hallways of RAD. His pact mark with Solomon burns brighter beneath his skin as he gets closer and closer to where the troublesome Sorcerer is hiding. 

“Ohhhh Solomon, I know you’re in hereeee.” His singsong voice echoes off of the stone floors with an alluring quality. “Come out and have a chat with me.”

He pauses and waits for the enchantment in his voice to draw the Sorcerer out. 

One way or another, Asmodeus will be getting an answer. 

Impatiently, the Avatar of Lust crosses his arms and lets out an annoyed huff. “Solomon, you better come out here right now, or I swear I’ll send my Fanclub after you, and then you’ll be sorry.” 

The threat, paired with his charmed words, is enough to have the white-haired Sorcerer poke out from behind a bookshelf; his gait has an unsteady dreaminess to it, and his fair skin is kissed by a faint blush. A tell-tale sign that Asmodeus’ power has reached him. 

If he wasn’t so frustrated with the Sorcerer, he would’ve been proud of his handiwork. After all, he hadn’t been able to charm Solomon in centuries. 

His pink lips turn upwards in a satisfied smile as he watches Solomon rub his eyes to shake away the enchantment’s effects. The Sorcerer smirks, his eyes no longer dancing with the tendrils of Asmodeus’s charm as he speaks. “Oh, Asmodeus, how was your romantic boat ride with Mc?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent with me.” Asmo seethes, balling up his fists childishly at Solomon’s nonchalant antics. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You lied about the cupid thing and tried to ruin my date with Mc.” The demon pouts, jutting out his perfectly glossed lips.

“Me? Lie?” he says innocently, “What gave you that Idea?”

“I think I know your magic a bit better than everyone else.” he coos almost murderously, “That little feather you sent my way ruined my special kiss with them earlier.”

“I guess you caught me. It was fun while it lasted.” Solomon smiles and settles onto one of the benches, and Asmo does the same. “Tell me, is everyone aware of my little ruse?”

Asmo’s perfectly manicured finger taps his cheek in thought, “I think all my brothers are aware of the situation now.”

“I see, and if Lucifer knows, he would’ve told Lord Diavolo.” the human mutters. The twisting feeling in his gut was the first sign that maybe tricking some of the most powerful beings in the three realms wasn’t the best idea.

“Don’t forget Barbatos.” Asmo winks, sending a deep shiver down the Sorcerer’s spine. “You know how scary he can get when he’s angry. Especially when our sweet Mc is involved.”

Solomon’s mind drifts to you, the sweet human who has endured a handful of crazy dates today with all seven avatars of sin. 

“Asmodeus, may I ask you something?” he asks, a heaviness in his heart as he realizes that he forgot something extremely important when pulling off his little prank. 

“What is it?”

“I-I didn’t ruin Mc’s Valentine’s Day, have I?” He asks the question softly, with a weakness that reminds the Avatar of Lust that his Master is still human. 

The demon smiles softly, thinking back to your adorable little smiles on the boat. And the giggles he heard down the hallway when you and Beel were making your chocolate-covered strawberries. “No, they seem to be enjoying themselves today. But I’m sure that if we were to have actually had our little kiss, it would’ve been even better.”

He hasn’t ruined your day. 

Solomon’s heart can beat again. 

“Butttt, don’t think you are off the hook yet, Solomon.” Asmo smiles, grabbing the human’s hand and pulling him towards the door, his superior strength proving to be too much for the human. “Mc has a few more dates today. But now, so do you.”

Barbatos ~

Your hair is ruffled from your nap date with Belphie, but you hardly have time to fix it now. If you did, you would be late for your date with Barbatos. Your heart thrums in your chest as you get closer and closer to the place gardens, your designated meeting place with the Butler. 

The enchanted stone pathway lights up under your shoes, guiding you to a section of the gardens you have never been to before. 

The gentle sound of swaying willow branches dance in your ears as you are led through a curtain of some soft floral vines. An unexpected wind brushes your shoulders as you reach the other side and see the Butler waiting for you.

Although he doesn’t see you right away, you can’t help but notice the irritated way Barbatos curses under his breath as he scrolls through his DDD. A deep shiver runs along your spine when you come to the realization that he looks pissed.

“H-hey Barbatos,” can you say nervously, hoping that he’s not upset at you for running a bit behind schedule. But the look of genuine happiness that appears on his face when he notices you easily frees the worry from the forefront of your mind. 

“Oh, there you are, Mc,” the Butler is followed by an enchanted lantern that illuminates his elegant features with an ironically angelic glow. “I was worried you had lost your way out here, but I am glad this wasn’t the case.”

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me. I had a bit of a delay in getting here. “You admit bashfully. 

He places a comforting hand on the small of your back as he walks you past the entrance to the stables, much to your confusion. “don’t worry about it, I had some loose ends to tie up so it works out perfectly. “

“Is something the matter? I saw you on your DDD looking a bit frustrated,” you murmur, feeling relieved that you haven’t completely ruined his plans for the two of you.

“Nothing I can’t handle. Lucifer had just informed me about a tricky little rat roaming around the Devildom,” he says bed early. And it may just be a gut instinct of yours, but you have a feeling that he’s not talking about an actual rat. 

Does it have something to do with why everyone has been acting so odd lately?

Is there some kind of Devildom-wide hatred of the Cupid mascot?

“My dear?” he says, pulling you from your thoughts. “Although it warms my heart to see you looking so concerned on my behalf, I assure you, everything is under control. There’s no need to worry at all.”

 There is so much care in his emerald gaze it makes your knees feel like jelly beneath you. You stumble forward into Barbato’s arms, and as expected, he catches you as if you were made of the finest porcelain in the three realms. “Careful now, our date has just begun. It would be a shame for a sprained ankle to come along and ruin our time together.”

“Sorry,” you grin, enjoying the warmth of his touch. “I think I got a bit too excited.”

“Nothing to apologize for, but I have to ask. Dear, will you be warm enough?” 

“I’ll be fine. It’s not too cold out here.” you lie. Obviously he sees right through it and gently removes his uniform jacket.

“Here, this will keep you warm until we are inside. I won’t take long, I promise,” he murmurs tenderly, wrapping the garment around your shoulders. You breathe in the gentle scent of linen and rose petals gratefully as he leads you down a pathway that definitely wasn’t there moments ago.

“Inside?” You look around and only see the place’s lush greenery. “Are we going back to the palace?”

“Not quite, but I think you will enjoy this just as much.” he beams. And with a wave of his hand, two tall hedges part for you, revealing the cutest little structure behind them. A faint smoke wisps out from its chimney, and light pours out from the blown glass windows, illuminating the dark ground with rainbow prisms of light.

“What is this place?” you ask in a hushed voice.

“A place for the two of us.” he smiles, “We are the only two beings in the Devildom who are able to make it through the barrier, aside from the young master, of course.”

A grin of childlike enthusiasm spreads across your face at his words. “You got me a secret clubhouse for Valentine’s Day?”

“It appears I have.” he smiles before looking a bit self-conscious. “Is this gift to your liking?”

“Of course it is,” you answer excitedly, wrapping your arms around his lean frame. “Thank you for sharing this special place with me.”

“Anytime.” he hums, leaning into your embrace. “I hope the two of us can spend many hours hidden away behind these walls.”

“I do too,” you smile, just realizing that you haven’t given him his gift yet. “I know it’s not an enchanted clubhouse, but I got you something too.”

You hold out the perfectly wrapped parcel for him to take. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be wonderful,” he says eagerly. 

Even in his excitement, he still manages to unwrap the gift without ripping any of the actual paper. And when he opens the box of intricate-looking tea bombs, you swear you saw his eyes turn glassy. 

“These look amazing, what are they?” he asks, intrigued. “Some kind of tea?”

You got him something that he has never seen before. If you could pop yourself on the back without embarrassing yourself, you would. “they’re called tea bombs. All you have to do is drop one in a teapot and add hot water. They’re getting pretty popular in the human realm, so I thought you may appreciate trying something new.”

He admires the gift once more before holding out of hand or two. “thank you for such a thoughtful and considerate gift. If it’s all right with you, shall we head inside our new clubhouse so we can prepare one together?”

You nod excitedly and take his hand. “I’d be delighted.”

“Wonderful, like this little cottage, this is something I only wish to share with you.”

Simeon~

Why is it that everyone else seems to know the coolest places in the Devildom?

This question crosses your mind as you sit across from Simeon at a Greenhouse cafe, the little tea table in front of you decorated with candied flowers just waiting to be snacked on. Somehow, the warm, bright light that streams in through the enchanted glass above you looks and feels just like the sunlight you have missed so dearly.

“This place is amazing.” you say earnestly, “How did you find it?”

He blushes and somehow manages to look even more perfect than he had just a few moments ago, “I got lost one day trying to follow the directions on my DDD and ended up here. Some may call it an accident, but now, with you here across from me, I know in my heart it was fate.”

His praise warms your heart like sunlight. The angel’s sincerity and poetic way with words has you falling for him more and more every day. 

But… 

Despite his sweet words and love in his eyes, you can tell that he looks a bit nervous. His posture looks painfully rigid, and he looks around the empty cafe as if he is expecting some kind of ambush. 

Furthermore, you couldn’t help but notice how Simeon has been using every opportunity he can to touch you, The fuzzy tingling on your skin, a tell-tale sign of his angelic rejuvenating power coursing through you. Almost as if he is protecting you from something. 

Although you do not mind his constant attention and polite little touches, it troubles you to see how paranoid he is acting. 

Just like how Mammon and the others were acting at the beginning of the day. 

You’re not an idiot. And after your date with Barbatos you felt like whatever situation that was occurring behind your back had resolved itself.

Whatever was going on with them, it seemed that no one thought to tell the angel that everything was okay.

“Um, Mc, may I please hold your hand?”

“Of course, you can,” you reply, holding one of your hands out for him to take. As he does, you give him a little squeeze and send him the most reassuring look you can muster. Sure, you could try to interrogate him. But forcing him to tell you the truth doesn’t sit right with you. 

“I don’t know what’s troubling you, but I promise everything will be fine,” you say, not wanting to push him anymore on the subject. You decide now would be the best time to give him his Valentine’s Day gift. 

You reach into your bag and pull out his little gift bag. Your movements are slow, so the sound of liquid crashing against glass doesn’t give away the surprise until he opens it. 

“Is this for me?” he asks, taking the bag’s strings and setting it before him. You nod and watch as he gently removes the tissue paper and pulls out the enchanted cologne bottle you got him. The liquid inside is a potion called bottled nostalgia. It is scentless until the user recalls a fond memory or smell and sprays it on themselves. It took you weeks to find the one vendor in the devildom who makes it, but you finally managed to track her down with the help of Simeon’s number one fan, Leviathan.

The angel is silent as he reads the information card, understanding the importance of the bottle in front of him. “Mc, you must’ve put in so much effort in choosing this gift for me. Thank you. I know every time I use this, I will think of you and smile.”

“I-it was nothing,” you say, successfully flustered. 

There is a knowing look in his gaze as he gives you a soft smile. “You truly are amazing, Mc. I apologize for not giving you my full attention earlier. It’s not much, but I, too, prepared a gift for you.”

He slides a beautifully sealed envelope in front of you. Your name is penned elegantly in liquid gold on the front. Not wishing to destroy such a beautiful stamp, you fiddle with the wax seal tentatively until it gives way. 

Simeon is an amazing author, and as you pull out the letter, you realize that he had written you a letter in the same golden ink as on the front. Its beauty brings you to tears, and as you read the lines aloud, the greenhouse fills with a warm, bright light.

You shield your eyes from the source and look at him with all the love in the world. As the magic slowly fades back into the ink.

“My gift to you is the sun. You are the light of my life. It only makes sense that I can gift you something worthy of the title.”

Diavolo~ 

As you walk up the grand marble staircase of the palace, you begin to regret the simple little cardboard box in your hands decorated with glittery hearts and stickers. 

The Devildom Price has long been fascinated with human traditions, so you thought it would be fun to give him a box of cheesy Valentine's Day cards, the same ones your class would pass around this day when you were in primary school.

You made sure to fill it with lots of different human-world candies, stickers, temporary tattoos, and cute yet corny pickup lines written from your own hand. 

‘It’s not too late.’ the voice of doubt whispers into your mind. ‘You can turn back now and find something worthy of the prince.’

Your legs are shaking, and your self-consciousness gets the better of you, but just as you are about to turn and walk away from the large doors of his private quarters, the doors part, and you meet the kind, citron gaze of the Prince of Hell. 

“Mc, I’m so glad you made it.” his joyful voice declares as he looks over you. “Come in. I bet you’ve had quite the exhausting day so far.”

You nod shyly and step inside. You try to tuck the cardboard gift box you decorated behind your back, but he notices this immediately. 

“What’s that you’re holding? He asks, sitting next to you on his crushed velvet sofa. For such an intimidating Demon, his presence has such a calming effect on your nerves. 

“I-it's for you,” you murmur, holding the box out to him with both hands. “I thought you would appreciate getting a Valentine’s Day mailbox of your own today. But If you don’t like it, I ca-”

“You made this just for me?” he asks, sounding touched as he carefully removes the box from your hands as if it was about to shatter with the lightest touch. “I’ve never received a gift so thoughtfully homemade before. It’s refreshing.”

“So you like it?” you say, hope evident in your tone as he opens the box and starts to look at the little Valentine's cards you made for him.

“I love it. This is wonderful.” he laughs, peeling a lip print sticker off one of the cards and placing it on his cheek. It looks so wonderfully odd on his fine jawline that you can’t help but laugh along with him. 

“I wish I would’ve made one for you as well,” he admits. “Perhaps we should do this for everyone next year.”

“That would be so fun.” you smile, feeling a bit nostalgic at the idea of sending cheesy valentines to all your favorite guys.

“I got you a gift as well,” he smiles, removing a long black velvet jewelry case from the table in front of you. You had been so worried about your gift, you failed to notice it earlier. He opens the box and reveals a surprisingly simple pendant with a delicate silver chain and a small gemstone the color of his eyes. “I wanted you to have something you can wear every day.”

“It’s beautiful.” you smile, admiring the simple yet elegant jewelry.

“Would you like me to put it on you?” he asks hesitantly. You nod and his warm smile returns to light up the room. “Please come closer then.”

You climb up onto his lap as he secures the delicate little clasp around your neck. “This is perfect, getting to keep you close like this,” he murmurs into your ear as you relax. 

“This is nice.” you hum happily. 

“Have you had an interesting day so far?” he asks, feeling the tenseness in your shoulders. 

“That’s one word for it, you sigh, feeling at home against his broad frame.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

As the Prince himself gives you a shoulder massage, you spill the details of your long yet very romantic day. You also share with him the unexplained feathers, floating hearts, and shadows that freaked the others out so much on your dates.

At the end of your story, he chuckles heartily, and you turn to meet his gaze, seeing the look of guilt and amusement on his handsome features.

“You know why everyone’s been acting weird, don’t you?” you ask, knowing in your heart that you are finally getting some answers.

He laughs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I do, but I think it would be best if you were to hear the truth from everyone.”

You turn your head to the side and feel rather confused by his wording. 

“Everyone?”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network, @chaoticotaku, @nicksworld0715 , @ikevampharem, @ppichippi , @rabba-vee, @alexisjustheree, @scienceisfornerds, @rustybucketofghosts, @ihatecorns, @ignorxntf00l, @sleeppykitten

[thehappyendinganon]

The Third Parent; Poseidon

Poseidon was plagued. His path for vengeance would not be given peace and he could not remedy it with ruthlessness as he so often does. 

Instead, it would be accompanied by incessant squeaks for his attention.

A child, a small one, a little menace, clung to his hair like a barnacle. Her goal? To clumsily weave whatever she could grab into a braid.

They were sitting together on a sandbank. Poseidon, small enough to fit comfortably on the sandbank, sat cross legged with his head resting on his hand as he watched the horizon. Just behind him, the child struggled with the fight to tame his hair as she tried to finish her quest. Her unhappy noises were accompanied by the bored splashes of the tide, rising to lick at the feet of their master; waiting for another opportunity to steal away more tresses of Poseidon’s hair from the child. An amusing thing, for the menace found herself inconvenienced as she chased after the waves to gather back her materials. Squeaking and yelping when she was, once again, tipped over and pushed by the waves.

She was never hurt, just wet and giggly.

Poseidon had long given up on driving away the little one. Nothing he tried could discourage her, nothing seemed to be able - or willing - to harm the child. It would not matter if Poseidon sent waves to push her away, sunk away into the waves for peace, or called for storms and earthquakes to express his irritation. The child would always find her way to him, sticking around for as long as possible, and clamouring for more attention.

She had gotten creative too.

The little menace had stolen offerings straight from his temples to pass off to him, found little trinkets inland to fill his sea as a strange offering, and brought confused but docile land animals to swim on various shores.

More recently, the girl had taken to jumping off cliffs to land on his shoulders and head. 

Now, he had no choice but to keep the child close. She was determined and Poseidon dreads to think what she would try next if he tried to ignore her again. 

He could not look for Odysseus like this, the menace would undoubtedly get in the way and find herself impaled on Poseidon’s trident trying to inspect the mortal.

The menace’s previous attempt served as a good lesson.

As if she were reading his mind, the child smacked Poseidon’s shoulder repeatedly. Her face was scrunched up as she wailed on him; her hits caused no pain for Poseidon, but they were annoying. Especially since she hadn’t noticed his attention was back on her.

“Menace.” Poseidon grumbled, as the child continued to hit him, seemingly unable to hear him over the sound of her attacks while her hair obscured her vision.

“Menace,” Poseidon shifted slightly to look at her properly, “stop that.” he growled. Still no luck. The menace only increased the speed of her smacks, probably under the impression that Poseidon decided to try to ignore her. Again.

Poseidon just sighed. 

The God of the Sea, brought low by a stubborn child. And one not even of his own - or any of his family’s - blood. Poseidon could only thank the Fates that Zeus was not watching; his brother would throw his head back laughing hard enough to echo across the skies.

The sea, reacting to the suffering of Poseidon, suddenly rushed up the sandbank. Tripping up the child and letting her land into the water. Poseidon huffed in amusement as the child’s head rose up from the water, her blue eyes wide and mouth shaped in a small o. The tide retreated, proud of its prank, and Poseidon had to raise an arm to stop the menace from being dragged along the water. 

The God pressed her close to his body as the water swirled around both of them, playful and cheeky as the tide rushed by. He felt the little arms of the child try to wrap around him, her cheek squished against his torso as the tide finally emptied around them. Poseidon let out another huff, patting the side of the child as she let go of his side to move her bangs back over her eyes. Smoothing them over and patting it down to ensure it would stay there. 

Poseidon gently ruffled her head, undoing her work.

The child made a loud squeak in protest, hands swatting at Poseidon’s own. Soon she started to giggle, as she tried to bring her hair back to normal even while Poseidon’s hand delivered his long awaited justice. Eventually, the child ducked away, her fluffy hair now tangled and stiff with salt. A stark contrast to the loose braid suddenly placed on Poseidon’s lap. He made a show of inspecting it, carefully tracing his fingers over the shells and acorns the menace had managed to weave in without his notice. The sea lapped at the end of the braid, a glittering stone standing out against the black of Poseidon’s hair, keeping it all together. 

Poseidon smiled fondly as the child crouched next to him, preening at the success of her work.

“Thank you, little menace.” He rumbled softly, gently rubbing her arm. The child let out a small awed squeak, and tightly hugged Poseidon’s side. Relaxing with the sound of the sea and gentle touch. Just for a moment, Poseidon joined her.

Just for a moment.

"Menace. Where did you find this diamond?"

~

The second after Poseidon asked that question, Menace ran like hell was on her heels. Wisely away from the sea. Poseidon had to rush after her because if she ran, it meant she knew she was in trouble. Unknowingly roaring out her brand new name.

He was fortunate that the two of them were on a seabank.

Little Menace accepted this name over anyone else's attempts as she had known at this point that one of Poseidon's titles was "Life Giver", and those who bring lives into Gaia's creation often gave names to their young. (Little Menace had found this name much better than her original one)

(Poseidon often took the longest to grow fond of Little Menace in the loops. He was also the one subject to her antics and tantrums most often (no thanks to his many lessons on ruthlessnesses, not that she actually understood what that meant - she was somehow immune to his hostility). But he was also the one Little Menace stayed with the longest; Poseidon was almost everywhere and could react to her calls the quickest. She was never lonely at sea.)

Poseidon and Penelope are the parents Little Menace goes to first when she has a nightmare.

[knightprincess]

The Mischief of the 501st (Oneshot)

Synopsis: Ever wonder what mischief the boys in blue get up to? Pairing: None Words: Just over 2k Requested by: Im Busy Sleep on Quotev

The war was tough; no one could deny it. If the constant terrors and trauma of the war itself didn't get to those on the front lines, then the traveling from battlefield to battlefield did. Being stuck on the same ships, surrounded by dura steel walls and grated or black shiny floors, greeted with the same colors of hyperspace and the same droids wandering the never-ending halls. The threat of danger looming around every corner, even when on shore leave. 

There were some, however, who could brighten even the worst of battles, whether that be by telling jokes, speaking their minds at the most inopportune times, pulling pranks around the halls of the cruisers, or even answering questions with sarcasm. A few could impersonate like no other, whether of their commanding Jedi, random Civvi's or Senators, or occasionally each other. Comet from the 104th was particularly good at impersonating members of the Jedi order, both old and young. There has yet to be another who could beat his impression of Master Yoda. Waxer and Boil could beat the most when it comes to sarcasm. In contrast, Gregor could win over anyone with his flirtatious ways and lack of mind filters. If he thought something, it was guaranteed he would voice it, regardless of whether he ended up offending someone. 

The Coruscant Gaurd didn't lack in humor. Although at first look, they appeared serious and as if they didn't know the meaning of fun, that was anything but the truth. Fox and Thorn were always in a playful battle for the grand prize of the best coffee mug. Thire could often be found dancing down the halls, especially on quiet days. Hound was always fussing the massiffs, throwing anything he was sure they would chase, whereas Stone, more often than not, was flirting with the senators or playing pranks on the rest of the guard. There was a tally in the main office to see who tripped over the most when out in the field, and Fox had an assassination plot going, although no one knew if he was serious about it. 

But none could beat the 501st, especially for mischievous antics. The 501st were considered among the best troopers the GAR had to offer, alongside the 104th and 212th. Their mischief was almost legendary, even more so when their commanding Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, and his padawan Ahsoka Tano, would join in. It was almost a running joke among the GAR now. Wherever the 501st was, chaos and mischief would be close behind. Their antics away from the battlefield never seemed to fail to draw an eye roll out of Wolffe and get even the grumpiest bar hoppers at 79's to smile. There was no end to their mischief. 

If one were to ask Ahsoka what her favorite prank or joke was, she'd always say there were too many to list. Anakin would say the most annoying by far was the helmet switch-a-roo, especially when it happened on the battlefield. Fives and Echo had started it; at first, no one noticed anything was up; both Arc Troopers had continued their duty as the other. But that changed when Obi-wan requested Fives to accompany him for something, and only for whom he believed to be Echo followed instead. Ahsoka had chuckled upon the pair removing their helmets to reveal Fives had indeed followed the instruction given. 

Jesse and Kix would often switch helmets, although they did nothing more than that. Tup joined a few times with Hardcase, occasionally with Dogma when the other didn't pay attention. Rex had caught on eventually, although he didn't do anything other than shake his head and continue as normal. 

Pranks on each other weren't out of the question, either. A few times, Anakin had walked into the barracks to find blaster holes in the walls and a pair of troopers hiding in the corner. When asked what happened, a list of things was given depending on the troopers. Jesse and Kix said once there was a fly with a bazooka, and Fives and Echo said there was a spider; when asked why they shot at it, both simply replied it had more legs than them. Tup and Hardcase said something about ghosts or some flying creatures, depending on how creative they were that day. Appo had by far been the oddest answer; he didn't say any creature or anything with a weapon, merely stating the force made him do it. 

Ahsoka hadn't escaped the chaos either. Normally, the pranks on her were more playful and usually occurred around her birthday and Life Day. They would be silly things, like adding tinsel to her Jedi robes or baubles on the ends of her montrals. Other times, they'd wake her up by singing Happy Birthday or Life Day songs as loudly as possible, normally off-key. If, by chance, they were on shore leave when Life Day or Ahsoka's birthday rolled around, they'd simply com her with the pitchless songs or ask someone with technical skills to hack her communicator and datapad. 

Anakin, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky. Armor and Helmet Switch-A-Roo were the tame jokes, as were the barracks ones. The troopers of the 501st weren't above playing the long game or roping both Rex and Ahsoka into helping. By far, their longest ongoing prank was the beeping devices. Several of them had been strategically placed, one in his barracks, another in the conference rooms, aboard his ship, in his quarts at the temple, and, of course, at the apartment he shared with Padme. The last of which Padme had placed herself. All the little devices were motion-activated and would send out a medium-pitched beep every few minutes. 

The one in the conference room had also gotten to Obi-Wan, Cody, and Mace Windu. The three Jedi had been annoyed by the constant beep, even more so when they couldn't find its source. Cody had been, too, until Rex clued him in on what was happening. From then on, Cody, like Rex, would say he didn't hear anything when asked about the beep. The beep joke had gone on for almost eighteen months before Anakin finally found one of the devices. 

Dogma was another who had been on the receiving end of jokes due to his determination to follow all rules and orders. Although the trooper had caught on quickly, it wasn't before he'd asked a few dumb questions to his commanding Jedi. After that, the jokes had been simple ones: hair dye in shampoo, wrapping everything in cellophane and tin foil, and occasionally, they'd gift wrap everything. Plastic cups of water or Jawa juice, all of them glued together to make it impossible to move on without spilling the others. 

Dogma would respond in kind, normally by hiding one boot or blaster. Occasionally, on his daring days, he'd wake up after everyone had gone to sleep and put the hand of those who pranked him in a bowl of water before settling to sleep again. He'd always wake up with a grin the following day, especially if there were a round of swearing greeting him. 

If you questioned if the other legions were safe from the antics of the 501st, then your answer was no. Fox and the Coruscant Gaurd had been caught so many times that they practically had a warning about it for new shinnies in the main office. Not to mention Jesse, Fives, and Echo had been put in detention so many times the trio had their own cell. The three had been arrested often enough. All Rex had to say when retrieving them was, "I'm here for my Arc Troopers." 

Wolffe had been the victim of a few air horn pranks; normally, early in the morning, he'd find the one rigged to the refresher door. Hardcase was normally the one daring enough to slip a whoopee cushion or two in Wolffe's seat at 79's. To say the commander of the 104th had been tempted to throw the culprits from the highest skyscraper was an understatement.

Fives and Echo would also be the first to dare Gregor to do something. The Commando never turned down a dare or a bet, even when the results were disastrous. The flirty Clone had done everything; his favorite was the strip tease on the bar of 79's. Even more so when it had gone down in history, the story was almost legendary among the younger cadets. 

Howzer, too, had been on the receiving end of jokes, as had Cody. Both had undergone changes to their armor more times than they could count normally when they were drunk. Thorn of the Coruscant Guard had also been on the receiving end of it. Normally, it was the color being changed. A few times, Cody's had resembled that of Clone Force 99 instead of the sunrise yellow he normally adorned. Howzer's teal normally changed to different shades of green and blue, normally accompanied by random doodles of hearts, smiley faces, cat ears, and anything else the trio of Jesse, Kix, and Tup could think of. 

The Jedi weren't safe either, especially the other Padawans, when Ahsoka roamed the halls of the temple. The young Cal Kestis had his hair braided in a way similar to Quinlan Vos; a yellow strip had been carefully pained across his face, too. Caleb Dume had his robes switched out for modified clone armor, referred to as JP-8376, much to the confusion of the young padawan. Others had found their datapads had been tampered with or codes to their rooms had been changed. A few had been on the receiving end of things being glued down or gift-wrapped. 

Barris Offee hadn't gotten away either, despite being Ahsoka's best friend. Her lightsaber had been replaced with dummy ones, the names of contacts on her communicator had been changed to random things, her cloak had been dyed a multitude of colors, and she had alarms going off at different hours of the night. Thankfully, the pranks never extended to the battlefield. 

The Knights and Masters hadn't gotten away. With help from the clones who had a talent for impersonations. Several Knights and Masters had been set all over the galaxy. Young Knights had been set on wild goose chases around the temple and sometimes the senate building. Older, more experienced knights had been sent off the world or been told their lightsabers or Jedi fighter jets were being recalled for some reason or another. The masters had been convinced Yoda had new assignments for them, only to find the Grand Master and be met with confusion. 

It took a while for anyone at the temple to realize Ahsoka and Anakin were behind the many pranks and confusion. Occasionally, they were helped by the Clones and Obi-Wan when he caught on, Plo and Quinlan helped on the occasions they were around during the chaos. 

The Senators hadn't been safe either. With the normal culprits of the 501st switching out their blue-painted armor for the red of the Coruscant Guard, they caused havoc in the senate building. Anything from "escorting" senators places only to go the wrong way. Purposely mixing up names or singing the most annoying songs possible. Tripping through doors as a way to impersonate Rex's talent. Conducting random searches for "suspicious items", even causing lockdowns by tripping fire alarms or messing with the security system. They'd rig random alarms to go off at different times and play havoc with the droids around the mushroom-shaped building. By far, the favorite was playing bumper cars with the Senate pods. 

No civvies escaped the chaos. If there were racing events happening, it was only a matter of time before the boys of the 501st appeared. Many times, there had been speeder chases or taxi jumping. It's been rumored Hardcase started a cult in the lower levels (although nothing has been confirmed). Poppers had been set off near 79's and other bars around the planet-wide city, and car chases had taken place when the Coruscant Guard had attempted to catch the rowdy lot. Every button on the elevators had been pressed, and trains had become another means of transport to jump to and from. 

When the 501st are around, pranks, chaos, and mayhem will follow with havoc sprinkled in. No one is safe from the pranks and jokes the boys in blue pull, especially when Anakin and Ahsoka are around to throw fuel on the burning fire. 

Knight Princess Masterlist

[iviarellereads]

The Eye of the World, Chapter 2 - Strangers

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Ravens icon) In which the chapter icons first become specific and notable.

The boys get the first barrels inside, and a couple of pages are spent describing the common room and the few people inside (Bran, Tam, and Cenn, as well as Haral Luhhan (the blacksmith), Jon Thane (the miller), and a couple of unnamed members of the Village Council. Master Luhhan frowns at the boys, before turning back to business.

On the way to the basement they meet Mistress al'Vere, who offers them the bread, cheese, pickles, and honeycakes in the kitchen. Rand likes her, because she's one of few who won't try to matchmake for Tam. He suggests they wait to eat, or they'll never get the cart unloaded.

In the basement, Mat tells Rand a prank he pulled involving borrowing the Luhhans' dogs and covering them in flour to pretend ghost hounds were on the loose. When the dogs went home, they got the house covered in flour, angering Mistress Luhhan, and Master Luhhan by proxy.

When they go back out, they find two plates of snacks and two mugs of mulled cider, so despite Rand's earlier suggestion, they juggle the piping hot honeycakes and the casks for the last two trips.(1)

As they're finishing up, Ewin Finngar finds them, excited. He tells them there are some strangers in the village, and they're not impressed. Ewin is only fourteen, and the years between him and them(2) usually make them pretty dismissive of him. But today, their minds are on the black rider, so they ask if it's him, but Ewin is confused and starts talking about the lady and her guard. Mat slaps his own forehead and says he meant to tell Rand about them before they got distracted. He waxes poetic about their horses(3) before going on to the people themselves.

Rand, who's unimpressed with the florid descriptions from Mat and interjections from Ewin, asks who they are, and what they want. Mat doesn't care what they want, he's just curious about strangers and adventure.

Ewin says he overheard that her name is Moiraine, and his name is Lan, and the Wisdom doesn't like her at all. Rand asks why.

“She asked the Wisdom for directions this morning,” Ewin said, “and called her ‘child.’ ” Rand and Mat both whistled softly through their teeth,(4) and Ewin tripped over his tongue in his haste to explain. “The Lady Moiraine didn’t know she was the Wisdom. She apologized when she found out. She did. And asked some questions about herbs, and about who is who around Emond’s Field, just as respectfully as any woman in the village—more so than some. She’s always asking questions, about how old people are, and how long they’ve lived where they live, and . . . oh, I don’t know what all. Anyway, Nynaeve answered like she’d bitten a green sweetberry. Then, when the Lady Moiraine walked away, Nynaeve stared after her like, like . . . well, it wasn’t friendly, I can tell you that.”

The lads debate whether Nynaeve's temper will hold a grudge, because she usually doesn't for very long, before Mat says, who cares, with a gleeman and strangers for Bel Tine, who even needs fireworks? Ewin gloms on to the gleeman line, asking if it's another trick, and Mat and Rand studiously ignore him as they leave the basement.

Outside, Bela's been taken away with the cart, probably by the stablemen. So, Mat says he's not lying this time, and Rand can back him up. But before Rand can say a word, he feels eyes on himself. A glance around reveals nothing, but he lifts his gaze and finds a raven on the inn's roof. Mat follows his eyeline and they both get angry at it. They throw rocks, but the raven dodges, unsettling them.

“A vile bird,” came a woman’s voice from behind them, melodious despite echoes of distaste, “to be mistrusted in the best of times.” With a shrill cry the raven launched itself into the air so violently that two black feathers drifted down from the roof’s edge.

We officially meet the Lady Moiraine, who is very short,(5) to the point of making Rand feel awkward about his tallness, and looks ambiguously old. Her eyes give an impression of age, but her face looks almost as young as Nynaeve's, only it also... doesn't, somehow. She also wears her hair loose, unlike any adult woman in the village, and her clothes have an entirely unfamiliar cut. She has a chain in her hair, dangling a blue stone on her forehead, and a gold ring in the shape of "the Great Serpent, an even older symbol for eternity than the Wheel of Time."(6)

The lads greet her by the name they've overheard and shared, and she asks for their names. She gives the boys coins in exchange for a promise to help her with some vague tasks while she's in the area, and perhaps a conversation about themselves.(7) Rand asks why she came, and she says she collects stories, and she's heard many about the Two Rivers.

They get confused, what could ever have happened here that was interesting? She says something vague that may be about reincarnation, and the boys are transfixed until she stares at them each in turn. Then they shake it off, and she excuses herself, promising to talk to them later. Her guard, who none of them noticed, peels himself off the front of the inn where he was watching and follows her.(8) Ewin says that's Lan, and he must be a Warder. Mat says Warders are only in stories, and they wear armour covered in jewels, which this man obviously doesn't.(9)

Now that she's gone, the boys realize the coins are silver, enough to buy a good horse with change left over. Mat and Rand both decide not to spend the coins, though what else silver is good for, Rand doesn't know. Ewin resigns himself to keeping his as well, and Rand says to cheer up, there's still the gleeman, if he ever wakes up.

Then the peddler rides in, wagon loaded with goods for trade, and Rand thinks this is going to be the best Bel Tine ever.

=====

(1) It's not entirely clear here, and I'm not putting the supplementary secret extra prologue in the queue until next week, so here's where I say the al'Veres only have daughters, and I like to think Marin al'Vere always wanted a son to dote on and raise properly. (2) Time to clear up a common misconception about these books early: the boys may act young, but they're 19. Rand was born in what we'd think of as November of the year 978 NE (New Era). The current year in-book here is 998 NE. Bel Tine, being something like the spring equinox from context clues, means he's close to 19 and a half. His friends are of comparable age. It's one of my pet peeves when people get this wrong, because we're being locked into our first perceptions of their ages without getting a number. I just want to try to fix this one before it has a chance to become a problem for anyone. (3) Can you tell what Mat's family's profession is, from his priorities? (4) We've already heard from Wit Congar and Cenn Buie that some of the village think Nynaeve is too young for duties as a full Wisdom. Now, whatever her age (though I can tell you she's about 25) nobody likes being treated as too young, irresponsible, and inexperienced to do their jobs. Wisdom as a title implies age and maturity, so something odd's probably happened to put this young woman into such a respected position in the community so early in life. Now imagine you know people look down on you, despite your respected position, every day speaking as if they're your superior when your social position is supposed to be above or outside their sphere. Add to that, one of your duties is predicting the weather and the seasons, and people start complaining about you having predicted the winter wrong, every cold gust of wind a red mark on the honour and respect accorded to your role in the community. Then this woman waltzes into town and calls you "child"? Of course she's gonna hate her.

(5) A lot of details I'm gonna leave out, but this one has twofold importance: one, it's a very distinguishing feature compared to all these giant men, and two, she's so tiny and delicate but also obviously so much more than she appears to be. Her archetype in the story is still almost as ambiguous as her age, so I'll leave you to guess. (Yes, I'm giving her and Lan's family names in the tags when they haven't been revealed yet, but it's so that my tags remain cross-reference-able when we get that information. What, you didn't think they'd show up all mysterious then cease to be relevant, did you? This won't happen with all mysterious characters, but I think it's fair for these two.) (6) Related to the snake on the wheel icon from the previous chapters, but that snake was in a figure-eight, while the text implies that it's just a snake's head eating its tail, cast in gold. There have been plenty of interpretations over the years in both directions. (7) Not suspicious at all, especially after Ewin describing her questioning everybody about who's who in town. (8) The camouflage-colour-changing cloak, the sword that's practically a part of his body, the smoothness? Yes, this is your Aragorn archetype, at a glance. (9) Whatever you think a Warder might be, they must be warriors of some sort. But, what kind of warrior would fight laden down with gold and jewels? As far as I know, only one who wants to end up dead. It's so funny what we assume must be true because of stories, and fascinating to think about what the truth behind it might be.

[burningfieldof-clover]

Hey there,

Your master list is looking good <3

I was wondering if I may put in a request if you're up for it. I saw you had a prompt list for height differences where my brain went brrrrr. Could you do a request with a F!Reader and Wrecker with:

" oh yeah? Why don't you come over here and make me short stuff ? "

Looking forward to see what else you come up with, and if you need anything please feel free to reach out, DMs are always open.

Herrrreeee is the thing! Enjoy! This was cute and fun and I hope you love it as much as I did. <3

warnings: fluffy stuff

f!reader x wrecker (but I don't think I used any descriptions of reader, so it might be either?)

top shelf - f!reader x Wrecker

For a while now, you’ve gotten used to climbing on top of cabinets, crates or other miscellaneous items to access higher surfaces. It was second nature and wasn’t an action that required a thought.

Hunter noticed of course and started keeping in mind to store things in lower places that you could reach. Echo caught on, but with Tech he thought it was inefficient at best, but after being made aware of the reasoning rebuilt the way he stored anything.

Wrecker however, thought it was entertaining to watch you struggle. 

One morning, he managed to wake up before you so he took the opportunity to lay the perfect trap. Wrecker knew you would wake up soon, though, so he had to hurry.

Your alarm went off with a silent buzz. You got up quietly so that you didn’t wake the boys. The Marauder wasn’t traveling so everyone slept through the night instead of taking shifts watching hyperspace fly by. 

Days like these are ones where you made yourself useful and started some caf for the crew. You left the racks quietly and stifled a yawn behind your hand. Upon entering the main room, you felt a breeze moving through the ship. Curiously, you found your way to the opened ramp that led outside.

Taking a peek, you gazed out at the peaceful sunrise caressing the billowing grasslands that stretched far across the horizon. The calm brought a smile to your face as you leaned against the doorway. You took a deep breath in to inhale the fresh air, and got a small whiff of warm caf. Glancing downward, you took in the beautiful sight of your favorite batcher; Wrecker. He was sitting in the grass and faced away from the Marauder.

What a big, loveable goof. He was loud and chaotic but underneath it all he was a softy with a heart larger than his own frame. He was strong and protecting. Quite a few times have you found yourself in the arms of Wrecker but never the way you really wanted the most. He’d shelter you from some kind of explosion (be it from a third party or an accident caused by himself) or pick you up in a very intense and dizzying hug when he returned from a mission. 

Wrecker finally took notice of you behind him. He turned his body just enough to be able to glance over his shoulder. He raised his cup. “Morning!”

You waved over his way. “Morning, Wreck. Let me make a cup and I’ll join you!”

Wrecker grinned widely and returned to watching the sunrise.

With a smile gracing your own features, you turned away to find your favorite mug. You opened the cabinet to reach for the cup, but it wasn’t in its usual spot. Instead, it appeared to be on the highest shelf. With a huff, you turned away to grab a chair. Wrecker had appeared now, wanting to witness the result of his “prank.”

“Is this your doing?” you asked with a sneer. 

Wrecker tried to let his eyes wander. “Uh, I don’t know what you are talking about.” He raised his mug to his lips to hide his smile.

You rolled your eyes and placed the chair in a secure setting and climbed on top. “You know, if you wanted to make me laugh at your silly gestures, I strongly recommend doing something after I’ve had my caf.”

His protective nature caused him to step closer, to catch you just in case you were to fall. While this has never happened before since your balance from years of practice of being a below average height was flawless, he still wanted you to be safe. 

Wrecker shrugged his shoulders and donned his innocent voice that sounded extremely rehearsed: “I still don’t know what you are implying about this uh… thing.” 

Your finger tips brush the handle of the mug, so you took to standing on your tip toes. Wrecker sat down his mug and braced both hands just in case.

You groaned as you still couldn’t reach it. “Come on, Wreck. This is ridiculous!” When the hell did we even get a shelf this high?! You gave up. “Okay, ha ha, very funny. Get my mug down, please?” 

Wrecker laughed but really didn’t expect you to give up so easily. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you come over here and make me, short stuff?” 

You watched as Wrecker took a few steps back with that shit-eating grin on his face. You stomped your foot and suddenly lost that perfect balance record you’d held for most of your life. With a small yelp, you fell off of the counter, but thankfully Wrecker could catch you across his arms before any harm came your way.

Staring into Wrecker’s eyes with a dreamy gaze, you finally realized what happened. You blushed, then smacked a hand on his chest. “Get my mug, Wrecker.”

Wrecker laughed. “I told you to make me, darling.”

It was the first time he’d ever called you that. So, if that’s the way he’s going to play…

Both of your hands touched both sides of his face gently, and it shut up that stupid laugh of his that you loved so much. You nearly hesitated, but for as long as you’ve been wanting to do this, now seemed like the perfect time. 

You moved your face closer to his. One of your hands snaked away to the back of his head and pulled him closer to meet you in the middle. You pressed a soft and lasting kiss to his lips, then leaned back into his grasp still holding you. You smirked at his dumbfounded expression.

“Get. My. Mug,” you commanded, and with a mischievous grin, he did so without putting you down. 

“I guess you sure told me!” Wrecker said with a laugh and brushed his nose against yours in a gesture of endearment. 

You took your mug into your hands and turned it around. You loved being held in his arms like this. What could you do to stay here? You started giggling happily, then threw your arms around Wrecker’s neck. “Thanks, Wreck!”

He shifted you around so that he could hold you up with just one arm, eventually finding you landing in a sitting position on his forearm. He placed his hand on your cheek as you leaned back, laughing still with your arms loose around his shoulders. 

He brought you into another kiss, just as gentle as the one you gave him. After he kissed you, his hand then splayed across your ribs and waist. He was holding you up high enough to need to look upward at you. He had such a proud smile on his face.

“If this is the treatment I get for putting things too far out of your reach… better believe I’m gonna do it again!”

You smiled at him with such a warm expression. “Or…” you trailed off and waited for a confused expression to touch his eyes. “You could just pick me up and kiss me whenever you wanted.”

This inspired his signature laugh that you were sure was going to wake everyone else up. He bounced you on his arm to quickly change the way he was holding you–he now held you up in the air with both his hands on your waist and spun you around with a quick twirl. You laughed with him, placing your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself. He brought you down to his face for another kiss to which you happily obliged. You both smiled into this tender kiss. 

Wrecker sat your feet back down on the ground and then leaned away from your happy kiss. “Get that cup of caf and let’s finish watching the sun come up, yeah?”

With a large smile, you nodded vigorously and completed the task as requested. 

Once outside, Wrecker sat you in front of him so you could lean against his chest for comfort. You both quietly watched the sun finish rising while finishing your mugs of caf. Wrecker held you close and you drew small circles on his arms. 

“I’m definitely going to put your things on higher shelves from now on.”

You chuckled. “I hope you like getting those things back down from where you put them, or so help me…” you trailed off and placed a kiss on his knuckles. 

Wrecker laughed and started tickling you and threw you both into a fit of laughter and rolling around the meadow.

From the ship, Hunter watched the two of you with a smile. Echo and Tech finally peaked out as well. “Finally,” they all three sighed in relief. 

[cazzyvintage]

Hold on I still need you

Author's note: This was a request from anon, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to it but here you are. I hope you are also doing okay and have a lovely day. If you ever want to chat, any of you, my DM's are always free. I've also decided not to tag anyone in this fic as it deals with triggering themes and I don't want to tag people if it could potentially trigger them. Oh and if for some crazy reason you want to be even sadder I based the plot also on the song 'hold on' by chord oversheet so uh listen to that if you wanna be in the feels.

Synopsis: Request from anon: Can I request a sui*idal reader? Like they have thudding thoughts, the whole day her head is buzzing. Then they decide to do IT (you can decide how) and Zemo walks in and becomes heartbroken and floooooofff pls

Word count: 2k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF S*ICIDE, if you don't think you'll be okay reading it then please don't, your mental state always comes first, lots of angst followed by slight fluff, overdose

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

They wouldn’t miss you

You’re just an inconvenience to them

He doesn’t care for you. It’s all a huge prank.

It would be better if you leave

You groan in anger, hitting your head slightly to get those thoughts out of your head, but no matter how much you willed it, they would not leave you alone. Each time you tried to resolve one thought, reflecting on reasons why they do like you, your mind instead found persistent reasons for why they didn’t. Every small thing they have done which seemed off weighted down on your mind. Especially Zemo. Why didn’t he kiss you goodbye this week like he had done other weeks? Your logical side tried to argue that he simply forgot, but your paranoia always got the best of you. There is more. There has to be more. Another reason for him to avoid you. To hate you.

You didn’t want to be one of those girls whose entire life revolved around their boyfriend. You had your independence, your responsibilities, your hobbies. But these days they seemed so bland. They didn’t excite you the way they once did. Things you did for fun now felt like a chore to you. Doing anything these days felt exhausting. You knew it was annoying Zemo by how much time you spent in bed, how you stopped organising dates. But how could you find the will to do anything when you were so exhausted of life? It wasn’t as if you wanted life to end for you; it was just that you needed a break from being alive.

If you thought about it, it was the best option, right? You would finally get your peace. Your friends didn’t have to pretend to care about you anymore. Zemo could move on to date someone he actually loved. He wouldn’t feel like he only dated you out of pity. This was the best outcome. It had to be.

One of the worst things was the last walk. Your footsteps echoed along the pavement as you walked to yours and Zemo’s house. It was almost as if everything was going in slow motion for you. The corners of your eyes were blurred as you just concentrated on the path ahead. The usual outside sounds were faded, muffled to you. Instead, that singular voice inside of you rang out clearly.

‘I’m going to do it,’

Just that, again and again inside your head, unrelenting. It was as if you were still trying to convince yourself to go through with it by repeating it. Your legs felt like stone as you forced yourself to continue to walk to your resting place. Your breath quickened as you approached the door.

Walking in, you were barely coherent. Zemo was still out. He should be gone for the next few hours. That’s plenty of time. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart as you thought about him. How would he react to seeing you? You didn’t want to think about it and thankfully if all goes to plan you would never would.

You manage to find yourself in the bathroom, locking the door behind you. By the window was the medicine cabinet. Stored full of many painkillers for the headaches Zemo often got. Often his past would come back to haunt him. Shakily your hand reaches up to grasp the door handle and open it up, your eyes focusing on all the orange pill bottles that cluttered it. You weren’t focusing as you reached to grab them, your hands instead accidentally knocking them to the floor.

Swearing under your breath, you rush to pick them up, feeling your eyes water up. Finally, you felt you had enough. Swallowing one last time, you open your mouth and down the hatched.

-

Zemo’s hands clutched the bouquet. The smell of sweet roses floating off them. Roses were typical, but always one of your favourite types of flowers. His hands gently graze against the box held in his trousers pocket. A reminder of the task that had been making him nervous for the last month. To propose. No matter what happened, the time had never felt right. He wanted it to be meaningful, for it to be special. After losing his last family, he wasn’t ready to let someone like you go away.

Still, he worried for you. Your behaviour had changed over the last few months and though he tried to ask you about it, you had always shrugged it off. It was nothing. You were fine. It wasn’t nothing. You weren’t fine, and he hated that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him the truth. That is why he was determined tonight was the night. He’d show you just how much you meant to him, and maybe then you would trust him enough to open up.

“Y/n?” he called out as he walked into the house. He’d taken the afternoon off for this moment, preparing it down to the tiniest detail, and finally, it was all falling into place. Now he had to just find you.

“Y/n?” he called out again

He paused, waiting for a response, but furrowed his eyebrows when none came. That was odd. You were always back by this time.

He started to walk around the house, checking in every room for you. As he found every room empty, his voice rose higher as he became more panicked.

Reaching the final floor, his eyes focused on the closed bedroom door, dread pooling into his stomach. The roses slip from his hand and the petals broke off as they hit the ground. His feet were already rushing to the door, his hands reaching for the handle, but no matter how hard he would push it wouldn’t give away.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hitting his fist against the wooden door in a desperate attempt that you might still be awake. He pushed his shoulder against the door with all his strength. The lock strained, giving crack to a single strain of hope for him.

He pushed his weight against it again, and then again, and finally; it broke. He stumbled, almost falling to the floor as the door burst open. He glanced around and his skin went cold as he saw you laying there surrounded by empty pill bottles. His legs folded as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close to his chest. His ears were ringing and his eyes were blurry as his fingers rested against the pulse in your neck, his head resting against your chest as he prayed for something, some sort of life.

A sob echoed from his throat, whaling coming deep from inside his chest. “Please,” he cried out, “Don’t you leave me. Not you too”

The tears streamed down his cheeks, falling on your pale, clammy skin. “Y/n” he whispered, his fingers still pressed against his pulse.

And then if by a miracle he felt it, hardly there, but he felt it, he’s sure he did. A beat.

He had already gathered your body in his arms and was racing you to the car. Ambulances would take too long. He had to get you to the hospital now. He was driving well over the speed limit but fines could easily be paid, your life couldn’t.

He swerves in and out of other cars, desperately trying to avoid any traffic, almost causing traffic by how carelessly he was driving. He could hear the cars honk at him, the expletives shouted, but none of that phased him. All that mattered was getting you to that hospital and thankfully, it paid off. He was at the hospital in a matter of minutes.

Grabbing you off the seat, he runs into the hospital holding you bridal style, screaming for help. The poor receptionist looked traumatised as she saw your ghostly pale head swinging as Zemo rushed towards the desk.

Quickly nurses had grabbed a hospital bed, and Zemo carefully placed you onto it. As they carted you away, Zemo grasped your hand, determined to follow you. He was instead forced to let go of you. He argued relentlessly to them that he needed to be there; he had to be there with you. Didn’t they know who he was? He got everything he wanted if he so asked but now he was forced into the waiting room along with everyone else. He couldn’t be with you, and it was killing him.

He paced around the room anxiously. People watched his stressed-out self as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up. Occasionally his hand would flicker down to his pocket where the ring rested and a lump would come to his throat. Every time a nurse came into the waiting room, he would instantly turn to them, hoping that it would be about you. But it wasn’t and so he was left with his thoughts again as he went over in his mind what he had done wrong for you to ever want to do that. It must have been something he did. The way he treated you. Something he said. The blame rested solely on him.

Finally, the nurse came in, looking for him. As soon as she said the words, he was rushing to your room. As he reached it, he burst through the door, his eyes focusing on the bed in front of him.

There you laid peacefully.

Asleep.

But alive.

The next few hours he spent sitting beside you, just staring at your peaceful face, his hand grasping yours. The nurses tried to get him to leave, claiming you would be asleep for a few hours, but he refused. He had to be there when you woke up. He couldn’t imagine leaving you to wake up on your own.

After a few hours, your eyes finally crack open as you awake. As your senses come back to you, you could feel something holding your hand. Moving your head slightly, you saw Zemo beside you.

As soon as you moved your head he perked up and a wave of relief washed over him seeing you awake.

“Y/n, oh thank god,” he whispers, squeezing your hand tightly.

“Zemo? Where am I?” You ask.

“You are at the hospital after you… well,” he trails off, the word getting chocked in his throat as he thought back to what happened.

Your eyes started to swarm with tears as you feel guilt wash over you, knowing what must have happened for you to end up here with Zemo.

“Zemo, I’m so sorry”

“Please don’t apologise, you don’t need to apologise” Zemo instantly says, sorrow deep within his eyes, “But please, tell me what I did wrong. I can’t lose you y/n, so whatever it is, whatever lead you to that tell me”

“Zemo, it isn’t your fault. You’ve been perfect, you always have been. It’s me, it’s all me. It was so stupid of me Zemo, I shouldn’t have put you through something like that��

His grip on your hand tightened as he leaned over to put his hand on the side of your face, making you turn to look at him. “Don’t say that. You are not stupid. Far from it. Now please, tell me the real reason”

You sigh, leaning into his hand. “I didn’t feel worthy of you. Of anyone. I’m tired Zemo, I’m so tired and you deserve someone who can give you their all. And that isn’t me. I don’t feel alright and I’m not sure if I ever will again”

Zemo’s thumb strokes your face in comfort as he looks at you before deciding to get up and get on the bed next to you, pulling you into a hug in the tight space you two had. “I love you y/n, if anything I do not deserve you. I understand how you feel and I know you will feel better in time, with help you will be. I will ensure you get the best help and will be with you every step of the way if you will have me”

He clasped you as you cried into his chest, his whispers of comfort and reassurance settling deep within yourself. You knew things would be hard; you knew you would doubt yourself again; you doubt him. But a part of you knew that with Zemo beside you, helping you, loving you. You could pull through.

A/N: If you made it to here I salute you for getting through the angst. Just remember you are never alone and if you are ever feeling in a bad way don't be afraid to reach out, I love you all 💕

[startanewdream]

For your jily leaves

James and/or sirius discovering the marauders map in Harry's stuff.

Your wish is my command ;)

Set during the summer break after Prisoner of Azkaban, when Harry is grounded because he went after Pettigrew and went to Hogsmeade hidden (more here).

Hope you enjoy this happy silly moment between Sirius, James and Harry (or the real reason I write this series).

Good times

Sirius coughs when he enters the attic and a cloud of wind greets him.

'Get used', Harry's voice says, coming from a place in front of him, though he can't see him behind the piles of boxes. After a few seconds, Harry emerges, a scarf covering his nose and mouth.

Sirius chuckles. 'You look like a cowboy. From those old movies'.

'Bang bang', Harry jokes, pretending to aim with a gun. 'What are you doing here?'

'Came to see your father, he isn't here yet. So I thought of checking on my favourite godson'.

'The only one', Harry remembers, laughing and moving to another box. 'A good godfather would help me, you know'.

'Cleaning builds character', Sirius assures, looking at an old mirror and cleaning with the sleeve of his hand to see his reflex. 'And you need a lot of character'.

'Ouch', Harry complains. 'I have been grounded all summer'.

'This is what happens when you run after a convicted criminal'.

'Isn't what you do all the time?'

'Yeah, but I get paid for it', Sirius winks at him. 'Also, it helps that I am an adult. You might wait until you are out of age to run after bad guys'.

Harry points at his scar. 'I wish, but bad guys keep coming'.

'Well, you are unlucky in that way. Also, I may have heard running after Wormtail wasn't the only reason you were grounded'.

Harry flushes. 'Well, the other reason is even less fair. You guys sneaked out to Hogsmeade all the time'.

'Not when one's father had forbidden it'.

'You went with a werewolf!'

'Again, no one expressly forbid it. You don't want to get grounded, you don't get caught'.

'Next time I won't', Harry mumbles under his breath.

'Good. You have the Cloak and the Map too, just like we did'. Sirius stops, a thought crossing his mind. 'You do have the Map, right?'

'Yeah, Dad let me keep it. It's the least he could do, really. With the lot of things he did while in school…'

Harry keeps babbling, complaining about unfairness and clearly unhappy with all the chores he has been doing this summer, and Sirius smirks.

He lets his godson still cleaning the attic and goes downstairs; there is an old friend he wants to see.

He walks to Harry's room, finding it opened. His things are all messy in the room (clearly his chores were limited to the attic, not to his own room), but he finds the old parchment between his books.

It doesn't look like the parchment aged a day. Moony told him about his delight that he had found it again, and Sirius understands it. No matter what happened later, that Map still brings him joy as if he is seventeen again, just finishing his signature of his name on the Map.

He takes out his wand, pointing to the Map as he had done countless times.

'I solemnly swear I am up to no good'.

The lines appear there, tracing the outline he knows better than anywhere else. It's mostly empty, only a few little dots walking on the map, and he slides his finger to the Gryffindor Tower, then to the Great Hall and then to the Forbidden Forest. So many memories. He traces the passages outside school. James might have grounded Harry for sneaking out, but he would have been upset if Harry never did it…

He rolls his wand between his fingers before he lets the tip touch the Map.

'Sirius Black would like to talk to the masterful creators of this Map’.

The lines appear swiftly, an invisible hand writing them, and Sirius remembers spending days of one winter break trying to perfect this spell.

‘Mr. Prongs notes that a request with such formality cannot be ignored’.

‘Mr. Moony wishes to know when did Mr. Sirius Black became so distinct’.

‘Mr. Wormtail salutes Mr. Sirius Black and bids him a very pleasant day’.

‘Mr. Padfoot presents his esteemed regards to Mr. Sirius Black, to whom it is always a pleasure to talk to’.

Sirius grins, sitting at the edge of Harry’s bed.

‘Mr. Moony wonders what joke is Mr. Black planning today’.

‘Mr. Padfoot trusts that Mr. Black’s plans will be conducted perfectly’.

‘Mr. Prongs wants to know if the most distinct of Mr. Black’s friends will be joining him’.

Sirius laughs. ‘No, James is busy now’.

‘Mr. Prongs wonders if Mr. Black’s most interesting friend is busy with his offspring’.

‘Not now’. 

‘Mr. Prongs wants to know if aforementioned offspring will be joining Mr. Black’s plans for today’.

‘Mr. Padfoot agrees that this particular offsprings shows potential’.

‘Actually, the mentioned offspring is doing chores today. His father may have been upset that he broke a few school rules last year, with the courtesy of you, of course’.

‘Mr. Moony would like to register the unfairness of Mr. Black’s bespectacled friend punishing his offspring for doing something he did on a daily basis’.

‘Mr. Wormtail agrees with Mr. Moony and wonders when Mr. Black’s most passionate quidditch fan friend decided to become so restricted’.

‘Mr. Padfoot is astonished that Mr. Black has not found a way yet of breaking the mentioned offspring of its chores’.

‘Mr. Prongs is too upset with Mr. Black’s best friend’s choices to declare his opinion’.

Sirius’ laugh echoes in the room. A few seconds, he hears someone knocking on the door, and raises his eyes to find James there, all disheveled from coming from outside.

‘I thought I heard a dog here, but Harry knows he can’t bring stray dogs home’.

Sirius gives James a nice hand gesture before inviting him in.

‘You laugh now, dear Prongs, but you are so embarrassed with yourself’.

‘What —’, he stops noticing the parchment on Sirius’ hand. ‘Is that —’

‘The only one and original. Here’.

James picks the Map, his eyes running through the conversation, but he doesn’t grin like Sirius hoped. He knows what’s on his bespectacled quidditch most distinct friend’s mind at once.

‘James — don’t let him ruin the Marauders’.

James takes a deep breath before giving back the Map to Sirius, but his expression relaxes. He raises one eyebrow, a shadow of a smirk on his face.

‘They are disappointed with me, but you haven’t told them you were not planning any prank’.

‘I didn’t see the need for mentioning this’.

‘Only my bad side, huh?’ James picks his wand, touching the Map. ‘James Potter would like to register that Sirius Black has no plans of pranks because he is a serious laborer now’.

‘Mr. Prongs is astonished that Mr. Sirius Black could take anything other than his name as serious’.

‘Mr. Wormtail asks if Mr. Black is working as a service dog’.

‘Mr. Moony believes Mr. Black is fitter to work as a dog walker’.

‘Mr. Padfoot would just like to understand when Mr. Black’s choices of life has surpassed the fact that Mr. James Potter is punishing his offspring for breaking school rules’.

‘Mr. Prongs would like to point out that Mr. Black’s life choices are far more upset than needing to educate a child’.

‘Mr. Padfoot wants to discuss the hypocrisy…’

‘Oh, look what you've done’, Sirius complains. ‘They are discussing again. It will be hours until they stop’.

He lays on the bed, watching the ceiling. James lays next to him.

‘We should have charmed them to stop after a few minutes’.

‘Yeah, but we wanted them to really represent us —’

‘— and at sixteen we could discuss for hours’, James finishes, a little nostalgic.

‘Well, we had a lot of free time’.

‘No, actually we hadn’t’, remembers James, grinning. ‘But we made it through’.

Sirius chuckles again. ‘Good times’.

They stay in silence for a moment, broken when Harry enters the room, throwing himself in a chair.

‘I am exhausted’, he says, eyes closed and a painful expression on his face. ‘I won’t ever finish it until the World Cup’.

‘Hardwork will pay, son’, James says teasingly.

‘Would be a lot faster if… is that the Marauder’s Map?’.

‘Yepe’.

‘Why are words appearing on the Map?’, Harry asks, and Sirius doesn’t need to check the map to see that lines are still appearing there. Prongs and Padfoot can keep a discussion for a long time.

‘Oh, that would be Prongs and Padfoot arguing who has disappointed more his young self’, Sirius replies, grinning.

‘Ah’, a smile creeps up on Harry’s face. ‘I’ve seen them — the “manufacturers” — talking. And not just me — Snape got a taste of it too’.

‘Snape?’, Sirius and James ask at the same, raising to stare at Harry. His green eyes are open, smirking with satisfaction.

‘Yeah, he found the Map too’.

‘Then what?’, James asks, greedy, when Harry stays quiet.

‘Oh, I could tell you, but the attic is so dusty’.

Sirius grins. ‘Oh, I see your game’.

‘Extorting your own father, Harry James?’

Harry’s smile becomes innocent now. ‘I will make it worthwhile. One of the lines told him “to wash his hair”’. 

‘Fine, no dust’, James agrees genially, raising and grabbing his wand. ‘But you better tell us in details’.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Polyphonic - ao3 or tumblr pt 1

“Meet me on the Qiongqi Path if you want to talk,” the return letter from Wei Wuxian said, cold and distant, and so Lan Qiren went, grumbling the entire time.

He was far too old for this sort of nonsense. For all that his sword was named after the soaring of the heart, a memento of all his lost dreams, he didn’t actually fly on Xinfei all that much – after all, he was not a traveler, he did not go places. He remained home.

But for his nephew’s sake…

Lan Qiren did not take anyone with him when he went, not wanting to burden anyone else with his worries and concerns and unwilling to share them; instead, he took only his sword and his guqin on his back, as if he were Lan Wangji going out on a night-hunt.

It occurred to him as he flew towards the Qiongqi Path that that probably meant that his opinion on Wei Wuxian was not so dire as all that. It was nowhere within his expectations that Wei Wuxian would attack him, as if he were some sort of ravening dog. Lan Qiren knew himself well enough to know that if he truly thought that of Wei Wuxian, he wouldn’t have asked him for help in the first place.

That still didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea for Lan Wangji to associate with him.

Nor did it mean he had to make things easy for him.

“Wei Wuxian,” he bellowed in his best disappointed teacher’s voice when he saw the man, dropping lightly from the sky as he did, and had the pleasure of seeing the Yiling Patriarch jump a chi into the air and try to hide behind his Ghost General. Who then also attempted to hide behind him, leading to a rather amusing panicked shoving match of juvenile desperation to get away from an imminent scolding.

It was complimentary, if a little ridiculous. If either of them wanted to hurt him, he’d be dead so quickly that he wouldn’t even know what killed him.

“I see that I failed to teach you etiquette as well as ethics,” Lan Qiren said ponderously, accompanying his words with one of his better glares and waving the letter he had received at Wei Wuxian – he’d been shoved out in front after all. “Is this all the respect you think I am due as your teacher? A single sentence without any salutation? Summoning me to come to your side like a lapdog?”

“I didn’t think the letter was really from you!” Wei Wuxian squeaked. To judge by his expression, it appeared that he was in fact acquainted with shame, only that it had been a long time and the acquaintance had been very slight. “I thought – a prank – someone mimicking your signature –”

“Oh, we’re in trouble now,” the Ghost General murmured in a voice so soft it might have been missed, if only Lan Qiren’s ears were not quite so sharp.

Sharp enough, in fact, to hear how Wei Wuxian’s song, always a spritely thing, had grown a little slower, a little more sober, but not nearly as twisted and disharmonious as he would have expected from the stories he had heard about him. Wei Wuxian’s heart still sang free and clear, idealistic and well-meaning even if he was a little too wild, and Lan Qiren was reassured that he had come to the right person.

Wei Wuxian might be a bit of a madman, choosing demonic cultivation and defying the cultivation world as he did, making all the terrible choices that he had, but he was still a good person.

He would help.

The Ghost General, on the other hand, was in turns soft and gentle and rough and discordant, the rippling flow of his melody torn through with harsh and jagged trills like a clenching bleeding hand dragged along guqin strings, like a dying breath choked into a qiao, thick with the resentment of the unquiet dead – Lan Qiren would have to keep an eye on him.

Some classes on the subject of restraint and moderation would not go amiss, he thought, falling instinctively into analysis. That would help bring together the two sides of that personality, to soften the vicious rage and strengthen the too-weak tune…

Lan Qiren huffed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. It was too easy to slide back into the role of teacher, no matter how strange the environs – it had been a long time since he had left home, he thought, even for a night-hunt, and old habits were difficult to abandon. This trip, barely started, was already wearing on him.

He flicked his sleeve, folding his hands behind him, and began to walk in the direction of Lanling.

“Wait, your letter…did you say you wanted my help with something?” Wei Wuxian asked, his eyes wide as saucers as he hurried to catch up and fall into step behind him. “I…me? Really?”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said. “The concern is of a musical nature, and there are reasons I could not ask Wangji. You are an excellent musical cultivator. Will you assist?”

“Of course, teacher,” Wei Wuxian said automatically, and Lan Qiren smiled, pleased. “A teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime – it’s the least I can do. Only, uh, as I’m sure you know, that is…my reputation…”

“I’m aware of it.”

“Then you see why I thought your letter was a fake, don’t you? If I go to Gusu, who knows how they’d respond to seeing me – no, I do know, I know exactly what would happen. They’d lock me up!”

“Not if you were my guest,” Lan Qiren said firmly. He had that much influence in the sect, he thought, after all those years of faithful service – and in the end if they did refuse to give him any face and insist on locking Wei Wuxian up, what then? Who would they turn to in order to find the music that might heal him from his purported madness, if not Lan Qiren himself? “I would ensure that you would be free to leave as you wished.”

“Even if it’s Hanguang-jun that wants to force me to stay?” Wei Wuxian asked, a challenge in his voice.

“Have you ever heard of He Kexin?” Lan Qiren asked, and Wei Wuxian blinked and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have expected you to. A criminal of my generation, guilty of the premeditated murder of an honored teacher of the Lan sect and sentenced to indefinite confinement within the Cloud Recesses. She ultimately died when Wangji was quite young, and it affected him deeply – if you think he would force you to stay anywhere against your wishes, you have fundamentally misunderstood my nephew.”

Wei Wuxian was silent for a moment, absorbing that, and then said, “Premeditated murder of an honored teacher, huh? Is that a warning for me?”

“Is that a serious question, or are you merely curious to know if you are too old for me to smack you?” Lan Qiren asked, frowning. “The answer in either case is no.”

The Ghost General’s sleeves were all in tatters, but that didn’t stop him from trying to use them to muffle his laughter. He seemed to be enjoying his master’s misfortune.

Assuming Wei Wuxian actually was his master. There was definitely a bond of some sort there between the two of them, more intertwined than friends, less harmonious than lovers, not as echoing as that between swordsman and his spiritual weapon; Lan Qiren couldn’t quite put his finger on it. A friendship underpinned by life debts running both ways, perhaps.

Lan Qiren was unable to resist: he turned abruptly and pinned the Ghost General with a dour look. “Would you like to contribute to this discussion?”

Fierce corpses could not pale, but it seemed that they could make a facial expression that suggested they had. “No, honored teacher,” the Ghost General said, stuttering a little. “Sorry, honored teacher.”

He had once been a poor student, Lan Qiren concluded, and had the fear of teachers firmly implanted in him.

“Hmm,” he said, and then, because he could, “Name the three most commonly encountered types of ghosts.”

The Ghost General looked like he was about to faint. “I – I – I wasn’t expecting a quiz –”

“…are you teasing him?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking a bit like he was going to faint himself.

Lan Qiren shook his head, because he wasn’t, not really – or perhaps more accurately, not entirely. It was certainly part of the reason, but there was more to it than that.

Poor students often had preconceived notions of what teachers were like and were so concerned with their fears that they were unable to focus on the facts before them. In such cases, it was better to give into their assumptions in the first instance, scaring them but also showing them that their fears were insubstantial and could not harm them – for instance, that the dreaded pop quiz would not actually cause them any trouble even if they should fail to answer. Only then was it finally possible to shift over into the actual business of educating them.

It was also, admittedly, rather fun.

“I would be willing to take you as a student,” he said to the Ghost General, whose jaw dropped. “When the present business is done, and if Wei Wuxian can spare you. It would be to your benefit.”

“I – I – I –”

“Perhaps we should table the discussion for now,” Wei Wuxian said quickly, blinking rapidly as if he were attempting to wake himself from a dream. “Honored teacher, what is it that you want me to help with? You said the problem you were having is musical in nature?” His eyes brightened. “An ancient treatise, perhaps..?”

“An investigation,” Lan Qiren said, but noted to himself that it seemed that Wei Wuxian enjoyed the prospect of abstract research. Perhaps they could encourage him to do that instead of whatever it was he was doing with demonic cultivation – it wouldn’t make him an acceptable match for Lan Wangji, but in the event Lan Wangji lost all reason and insisted on the match the way his father had, it might be a good way to blunt Wei Wuxian’s edges and make him more acceptable to the rest of the world. It was much more difficult to be afraid of an eccentric academic than a slaughtering war machine.

Not that Lan Qiren would be conceding defeat so easily, mind you.

“An investigation? Really? Regarding what?”

“Attempted murder,” Lan Qiren said.

“Attempted –” Wei Wuxian’s jaw dropped. “You said it was a musical issue!”

“It is.” Lan Qiren heard the whisper of distant bells, small and tinkling, and stopped walking with a frown.

Swordsmen flying in formation? Here? In this deserted place, where people came only to pass through?

“Did you arrange to meet anyone else?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who frowned in turn.

“Anyone else? No, of course not,” he said. “I mean, even with you, I wasn’t actually expecting someone to show up –”

The Ghost General abruptly moved, a burst of action, and caught an arrow headed straight for Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“Wei Wuxian!” someone roared, and Lan Qiren frowned: now that was an unpleasant sound. Self-absorbed and haughty, as many were, but without valor or etiquette or even courtesy to mitigate it; the dull and vapid piping sound of someone who bullied the weak but feared the strong, and worsened by an underlying sound of something like a guqin string breaking off while playing. The latter wasn’t a personality defect, but an external cause – but what could cause something like that?

The individual in question, it turned out, was Jin Zixun, he noted, his frown deepening. Jin Guangshan’s nephew, yet not one who had been sent to the Cloud Recesses for Lan Qiren to smarten up, whether due to bad timing or his own disinterest. He hadn’t much liked the boy during the few times he had encountered him at discussion conferences, and seeing him for the first time in a while, he didn’t think much of the man he’d become, either.

Jin Zixun was accompanied by a moderately large retinue of Jin retainers, as well as representatives from some other sects, although no major ones. Mostly ones affiliated with the Jin, from what he recalled.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jin Zixun shouted again, and Wei Wuxian was about to speak, an impertinent smirk curling onto his lips. He stopped when Lan Qiren waved him silent. “Lift the curse you’ve placed on me right now and maybe I’ll let you off!”

A curse? That would explain the sound of the breaking guqin string, the external music that did not fit, but of course Wei Wuxian was a flutist, not a guqin player; it wouldn’t have been his work.

(Truly, even though there was no rule that said ‘let stupid men speak freely and you will learn everything you wish to know’, there probably ought to be.)

“What are you talking about?” Wei Wuxian asked, looking bored. “What curse?”

“You’re still pretending you don’t know? Look at this! Look what you’ve done to me!”

Jin Zixun pulled open his shirt, revealing his chest, and Lan Qiren’s lip curled in disgusted.

The Hundred Holes curse – that was an interesting choice. That required a particular type of bitterness to cast, being both nasty, brutal and slow in a way suggestive of a personal grudge and yet, to not inform the victim of who was the caster? That was distant, anonymous, faceless. Impersonal.

Wei Wuxian denied casting the curse, naturally, and Jin Zixun began threatening to kill him, telling him he wasn’t welcome at Jin Ling’s first month celebration, and now Wei Wuixan looked enraged, was reaching for his flute –

“Enough!” Lan Qiren thundered, and everyone turned to look at him. Jin Zixun mouthed his name in shock, clearly not having noticed him before in his singular focus on Wei Wuxian. “You have presented no proof of Wei Wuxian’s ill intent towards you, nor are you in charge of the invitations to the event in question. You will either produce your proof at once, or else retreat.”

Jin Zixun did neither, unsurprisingly. “What proof do I need?! No one else has such as vicious character as he, and everyone knows that we confronted each other! He hates me! Who else would it be but him?”

“If he wished to kill you, why would he use an anonymous curse rather than simply tear you to pieces with a fierce corpse or summon ghosts to harass you, the way he killed throughout the Sunshot Campaign?” Lan Qiren demanded, irritated as much by the stupidity on display as by the delay. “You cannot kill a man simply based on an assumption of which you are unsure.”

“I am sure! And the proof will be in the act. Once he dies, the curse will lift!” Jin Zixun suddenly grinned, teeth glinting. “And if we’re asking questions, I have one myself: why are you here, honored teacher? Here in the middle of nowhere, without anyone else from the Lan sect beside you – one might almost think that you were conspiring…”

Lan Qiren scoffed.

“For someone as upright and righteous as the honored Teacher Lan to speak in the Yiling Patriarch’s defense is impossible,” one of the retainers shouted. “He’s been bewitched! Wei Wuxian lured him here to kill him!”

“Ridiculous!” Lan Qiren spat.

“Give us one good reason why you’re here, then!” Jin Zixun demanded. “If you’re not here to meet Wei Wuxian!”

“Of course I’m here to meet Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said impatiently, flicking his sleeve and thinking that he would need to have a talk with Jin Guangshan regarding his nephew’s insolence. He would not tolerate such blatant disrespect. “I wrote him a letter inviting him to the Cloud Recesses so that I could discuss some matters with him, and he responded by setting this as the meeting place instead. I agreed, and so came here.”

“What matters would you need to discuss with him?” one of the other cultivators demanded – one of the Ouyang collateral branch that had split from the main family in the previous generation, it looked like, probably out to try to steal some glory. “Honored Teacher Lan, you must explain yourself!”

Oh, Lan Qiren would be having a talk with several people over this.

Still, as much as he would like to stand on his dignity and refuse to answer, that would only lead to more questions. It would inflame tempers and exacerbate the situation, turning this stupid little dispute into the horrible dissonant cacophony of battle.

“Among other matters, I intended to dissuade him from pursuing a marriage with one of my sect,” he said, raising his chin. The Wall of Discipline said Do not tell lies, but a lifetime of practicing the sort of diplomacy necessary to run a sect had taught him that Do not use frivolous words was an adequate counter: sometimes, the best way to avoid an uncomfortable situation was to tell only the relevant part of the truth.

Or, as the rules put it: Speak meagerly, for excess words will only bring harm.

These wastrels did not need to know about the investigation, confidential as it was, and so he could share the portion of his intended discussion which was not.

Several of the crowd were gaping at him, Jin Zixun included, and Wei Wuxian beside him said in a strangled voice, “Marriage?”

“I was going to raise it with you before we were interrupted,” Lan Qiren told him. “I mean no insult by it, but I truly do not believe you to be an appropriate match.”

Wei Wuxian nodded dumbly.

“This is ridiculous,” Jin Zixun suddenly snapped, interjecting himself into the conversation, such as it was. “Lies, all of it, and you think we’d believe – mm!”

He clutched at his face, presumably appalled at being silenced as if it wasn’t exactly what he deserved for such an affront. Except of course he couldn’t leave it at that, gesturing wildly, and all the Jin retainers began to move, pulling out their swords and lifting their bows in readiness.

Wei Wuxian put Chenqing to his lips and issued a single drawn-out note.

Nothing happened.

“They cleared the path of any corpses,” Wei Wuxian hissed, his eyes suddenly reddening with rage. “This was prepared in advance. An ambush! They were never going to let me go to Jin Ling’s first month ceremony…Wen Ning, I’m going to need to use you. Ready, on my count, and – mm!”

Lan Qiren had silenced him as well.

“You will do no such thing,” he said icily, thinking to himself that perhaps he really ought to have insisted on keeping Wei Wuxian at the Cloud Recesses for longer than he had, despite the boy’s disastrous brand of nonsense. It was as if he had never heard of consequences – if Wei Wuxian so much as raised a blade to a single one of these men, the Jin sect would be calling for his head. Forget setting the Ghost General on them! “I will handle this.”

“You?” the Ghost General blurted out. “But - honored teacher…”

Lan Qiren was not, had never been, much of a fighter. He had been confined to the Cloud Recesses in his youth due to being sickly, and in his adulthood due to his brother’s choices; his experience was limited and insufficient. He had lifted both blade and guqin against the Wen sect when they came to burn his home, doing what little he could, and they had beaten him so badly that his heart and lungs had been permanently injured - to this day, he coughed up blood if he became overly emotional, and over-straining himself could lead him to start bleeding from all the qiqiao.

The doctors had warned him that it was not a wound that would ever be likely to heal.

And yet – as the rules of his sect said – with a strong will, anything can be achieved.

Lan Qiren drew his guqin in a single practiced motion and put his hand on the strings.

“Do you intend to fight me?” he asked, listening to the clamor of music from the hearts of the men in front of him. The ones with truly martial or aggressive beats were few and far between: if he needed to, he would target them first, and without their informal leaders, the resolve of the remainder would crumble, and they would flee.

But – he did not think he would need to.

“You can’t attack the honored Teacher Lan!” the Ghost General cried out, clearly appalled by the very thought of it. “You can’t – you just can’t!”

Lan Qiren looked at the young men in front of him, many of whom were frozen in indecision.

“Wei Wuxian may be a rogue cultivator, without even his corpses to aid him,” he reminded them. “But I represent the Lan sect, and it stands behind me. If you attack me now, even if you were to succeed and kill me, there would be an investigation; if there is an investigation, your actions will be discovered; if your actions are discovered, my Lan sect will demand vengeance from which not one of you will escape. You, and your families as well. Or do you believe that my Lan sect will not go to war for me?”

And not only the Lan sect. Lan Qiren might not be much of a fighter, he might never had become the traveling musician he had once dreamed of being, but he was a teacher – a teacher for a day, a father for a lifetime, and his students were scattered throughout the sects, throughout the cultivation world.

Perhaps some of them would stand by in silence, disregarding their filial duty to laugh at his demise.

More, he thought, would raise up their swords for him.

It seemed the Jin retainers thought the same, because no matter how violently Jin Zixun gestured, they did not make any move to attack.

“What’s going on here?!” another voice came at that moment, the low qiao of the steadfast lover – Jin Zixuan, settled at last, grown up and happy. Well, usually happy; at the moment he was clearly horrified. “Are you – are you attacking honored Teacher Lan?! What is wrong with you all? Are you trying to start another war?!”

“They came to ambush Wei Wuxian,” Lan Qiren said, not putting away his guqin just yet. “I was under the impression he was your invited guest, Jin-gongzi. Was that incorrect?”

“It is not,” Jin Zixuan said, and he knocked aside the flailing Jin Zixun’s hand, the one with the sword. “He is invited, and A-Li is waiting for him at Jinlin Tower right now. I knew nothing about any of this – Wei Wuxian, forgive my cousin, and forgive me for not having realized that he’d do something like this. I will make it up to you when we get back home, I promise.”

Wei Wuxian’s mouth worked briefly, and Lan Qiren snapped the silencing spell he’d put on him with a thought.

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian said, shooting him a look that seemed to contain questions. Lan Qiren assumed the questions related to his judgment of Jin Zixuan’s sincerity, and so he nodded his approval. “It’s – uh – fine, I suppose? It’s not like he succeeded even he did plan this out in advance, even going so far as to get rid of all the corpses to try to trap me…but know this! If honored Teacher Lan wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be nearly so forgiving!”

Or mute. Wei Wuxian had a mouth made for provoking people, just like his mother…why in the world did Lan Wangji have to like him so much?

“Of course,” Jin Zixuan said quickly. “Honored Teacher Lan, you will also come with us, won’t you? You can complete your conversation with Wei Wuxian at Jinlin Tower, and I’m certain your nephews will be pleased to see you…”

Lan Qiren huffed. “I am not so old and doddering as to need to be watched at every moment,” he said, knowing his tone betrayed his tetchiness – all entirely unfeigned, but it would still be helpful if everyone thought that his solo excursion had been merely a symptom of irritation at how he’d been incessantly pestered in his slow recovery. “Very well, we will return with you. Someone will need to carry Wei Wuxian and his ghost general, however, as I note that he has once again failed to bring his sword.”

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” Wei Wuxian drawled. “It seemed an odd accoutrement for a first moon party, but then again perhaps I should have anticipated the ambush?”

Jin Zixuan looked around, realizing that the only people here that could perform the escort were either himself and Lan Qiren or else participants in the ambush. “Honored Teacher Lan,” he said, looking a little panicked. “Forgive my impertinence, but could I ask you…?”

“I’ll ride with honored Teacher Lan,” Wei Wuxian announced, his tone grandiose and extremely irritating. Arrogant little brat. “Provided that you take Wen Ning, Jin-gongzi. After all, honored Teacher Lan still needs to talk to me about how he doesn’t want me to marry someone from his sect.”

Lan Qiren sighed. “It’s for your own good as well, you know,” he told Wei Wuxian even as Jin Zixuan attempted to swallow his own tongue in shock. “Our sect follows our sect rules no matter where we are, marrying in or out, and do so for our whole lives. Is that something you would be willing to tolerate?”

Wei Wuxian grinned at him, his expression – and the cheerful crescendos and upbeat lilt of his song, very nearly back to being as lively as they had been in his youth – suggesting that he was not as dissuaded as might have been hoped.

A few more moments and they all rearranged themselves, taking to the air. It was a little strange: the Ghost General, Wen Ning, rode in front of Jin Zixuan in the more vulnerable position, and because he was nearly the same height as Jin Zixuan their heads kept knocking together by accident, while Lan Qiren pointedly took the lead position as well. A sign of trust, and also recognition that he was a half-head shorter than his erstwhile student.

As they flew through the air, Wei Wuxian put his chin on Lan Qiren’s shoulder. “And there’s also that attempted murder you want me to help you with,” he murmured, voice low. “Reputation or not, ability or not, I will help you as much as I can, honored Teacher Lan, however I can…anything I can do, I will do. Thank you for trusting in me.”

Lan Qiren snorted. “What are you talking about?”

“The curse on Jin Zixun. You didn’t believe him when he said I did it.”

“That’s not trust, but logic,” Lan Qiren said scornfully. “The person who sent that curse plays the guqin, not the flute. How could it have been you?”

It was strange, though. A curse, spiritual poison, and both by guqin players – it was not an uncommon instrument to use, but to wield it with such skill that the instrument became an innate part of the player’s residual spiritual qi, the way the Lan sect taught its disciples to do…?

Lan Xichen didn’t like Lan Wangji’s crush on Wei Wuxian any more than Lan Qiren did, he thought to himself, even if he had encouraged it in their youth – but that had been before Wei Wuxian had turned to his dark and crooked path, and before Lan Wangji had demonstrated signs that he was unwilling to turn away from him despite it. Even more than Lan Qiren, Lan Xichen feared his brother following in their father’s footsteps, in damning himself for a lover who didn’t deserve him, feared that Wei Wuxian would shatter his beloved Lan Wangji’s fragile heart into a million pieces and more…

Still, a curse? The Hundred Holes, no less? His nephew?

A few days earlier, Lan Qiren would have said it was impossible. But then, a few days earlier, he would have said that it would be impossible for Lan Xichen’s lover to be poisoned through a spiritual song that, as far as Lan Qiren knew, only Lan Xichen and those he had personally trained had ever used on him.

Lan Qiren did not understand, and what little he did, he didn’t like.

Still, he had the marginal satisfaction that his initial mission had been accomplished, however uncomfortable the journey might have been – Wei Wuxian had agreed to assist him in his investigation. If he could only get the man alone long enough to explain the issue, they could even start looking into it at once, at the first month party in Jinlin Tower, which everyone in the cultivation world would attend.

They would discover the truth.

And when they did…

Let it not be Xichen, Lan Qiren thought. Let it be anyone else, no matter what – just not him.

I don’t know what I’d do if it were him.

[funtimebunnyblog]

I'M BACK!!! 🥰😍❤ Did you all miss me? I'm happy to say that I've finally gotten some WiFi where I'm currently living and updates are gonna try to be more steady here in the future but I can't make any promises because I get very busy with my work 😅😇 Please continue to bear with me!

In other words, a while back I wrote the OG version of this little short fic on A03 but I realized that I had never posted it here! 😱 Nevertheless, I decided to write the Part 2 to this and then decided to remaster that first part before posting it here! 🙂🙂🙂 I'm thinking about turning this into a little mini series 🤔🥰

Anyways, I'll stop rambling! Please enjoy! 😚

Pillarroomates (Chapter 1: Roommate wanted)

(This is dedicated to Dagdoth and Sureynot; 2 of the best bad influences I could ever ask for 🥰😍❤)

The steady click-clacking of keys filled the pleasant silence of the little kitchen, Kars typing away on the laptop before him at the table.

It was just a little after noon, a time where he usually put down his work for a brief session to sit back in silence and enjoy a cup of coffee, or maybe a mug of tea depending on his mood, with whatever baked-good had been whipped up recently. Today however, he chose to cut his little break out of schedule completely to get a jump on the deadline of the month that he was currently picking away at.

Hunched over, eyes glued to the screen, one could've swore he was a living statue perched like that so quietly if it weren't for his typing fingers.

The sweet smell hanging in the air came much closer as Wamuu strode over to the table, a soft smile was painted across the mans lips as he placed an oven fresh cookie on a plate down next to the mug of black tea his Master was letting steep at his side.

"Thank you, Wamuu." Kars said quietly, watching the blonde depart in his peripheral vision for only a beat before regaining his sharp focus on the sea of numbers staring back at him.

Kars had his own room with a desk to work in of course but he always found himself enjoying doing work down here this time of day. The heavenly smell of the kitchen when something was being baked and the pleasant background noise of the radio chiming softly, sometimes accompanied by Wamuu humming along, was something sort of relaxing to Kars.

Relaxing around here tended to be something rare too, as there never seemed to be a dull moment in the lives of the Pillarmen these days.

Not in this neighbourhood, no.

The younger man hummed in response, heading back to the stove to finish scraping fresh cookies off the pan to place on a rack to cool. He was sure Santana would make an appearance soon to try one, with the lovely smell filling the air and all.

Santana could never stay asleep (as heavy of a sleeper as he had the tendency to be) holed up in his room when there was something yummy being cooked.

The times where he appeared the quickest was when Kars flicked on the coffee machine first thing in the morning, the red-head manifesting at his side at the very first spew of hot caffeine never failed to nearly give him a heartattack; especially when it was 5 in the morning in a dark kitchen.

Kars' head lifted, cocking an eyebrow as there suddenly came a knock at the front door; three evenly spaced thumps on the wood. The thought of another complaining neighbour was the first thing to cross his mind, making him sigh as he moved to get up from his chair.

"PIZZA'S HERE!!!"

The sounds of heavy footfalls coming at a rapid speed from down the hallway accompanying the cry stopped him in his tracks.

The plum-haired man grimaced, Wamuu glancing over his shoulder with a frown, as none-other-than Esidisi sped by; the one hand clutching the towel around his waist was the only thing keeping it from blowing away completely.

Despite only catching a glimpse of his speedy companion, Kars didn't miss the fact that the other was sopping wet and trailing water.

Esidisi had simply lept out of the shower the second he heard the knock at the door, leaving with only a towel (just barely even) and the foamy suds that were still clinging to his hair and his body.

No doubt about it, he was dripping all over the place.

And all over his clean floor too.

Kars clicked his tongue, more than tempted to sigh again.

"Really, Esidisi?" He called out to the other.

It was hard to tell whether he was more displeased with his state of soapy undress or the fact that the oldest Pillarmen had gone and ordered yet ANOTHER pizza this week with only God-knows-what on it.

Sure, he the others found themselves actually partaking in "Human food" casually these days. Wamuu even went so far as to teach himself how to cook as a hobby to fill time around the house when he wasn't going to the Gym or to work, but Esidisi had become something of a strange enthusiast on the matter.

Some people in this world got a little riled up over something as simple as Pinapple being added as a topping on a pizza but Kars had a feeling those people would have an absolute fit listening to Esidisi's phone order of a multi-fruit pizza (consisting of: oranges, apples, watermelon and strawberries) with cheese, olives and pepperoni.

He was starting to wonder if his longtime companion was simply doing it just to see how far he could push a Pizza place with his barrage of odd orders until they yelled at him or worse, barred him completely from the place.

His question was only met with laughter. "I decided to ask for Mac and Cheese and Jalapeños on it this time!" Esidisi called back, voice echoing off the walls, as he finally reached the front door.

Wamuu's nose crinkled at the very sound of that, choosing wisely to direct his attention to his cookies once more.

Kars decided to follow suit and do the same with his own work.

He supposed it wasn't really his problem, therefore; he shouldn't say anything.

☆☆☆

The advertisment had been a strange one for sure, but really, you had no choice but to at least look into it. It never hurt to try and you were already desperate enough as it was.

Apartments and open housing in the area was becoming a rarity at best these days, this busy time of year didn't help things either, and you had been scouring the internet for every opportunity or opening there was to move in with someone in this portion of the city.

Sadly, you had turned up empty handed quite a few times.

The last one you had looked into had been great; a nice building, nice seeming people, decent budget; but alas, the people who put out the advert took it down just a day later.

They had decided to give the opening to a close friend of theirs who wanted to come across the country and live with them instead.

You had been starting to consider checking the complete other side of the city and trying to squeeze yourself in somewhere there or maybe even just going with the option of moving cities completely! The hassle of finding a place was just becoming too much until... this one happened to pop up.

☆ Roomate requSWIGGITY SWOOMATE, WE NEED A ROOMATE!!11!!!1!

We are Four Men seeking out a Human roomate to live with us in our rented house.

4 bedroom, 1 bath, 1 kitchen; upstairs, downstairs and basement.

Location: Western side of the city, 929 Bizzare av.

Rent and chores are divided equally among us.

Requirements as followed:

• Must be a CLEAN Human.

• Human must not bear the surname of "Joestar" under ANY means necessary.

•Must be actively working and have claims to have the ability to hold their job.

• Must be willing to contribute to the household via chores and yard work when necessary.

• must be CUTE!!!

• Mus

•

• Must like llf6io78fjjl0

•

• Jo9sjw6jnsjej27ebeolu

• Jsjsij wkk d18kkjs lkdjsjsns52jsjjsnend2njsmdv 6272jsndbdhs2672 jd Djjsija bsij eeskdnne9s782728 jd bjejrn rnusjjsj

• the human must not be loud

• It would be most appreciated if the Human was a mannered person, who holds appreciation for similar hobbies we do. -W

•

Ask within to apply! ☆

You couldn't help but wonder if whoever had written this advert had been drunk at the time by looking at the grabbed mess that took up half the page.

Better yet, you could only hope this was a real advertisement and not some sort of stupid prank.

Either way, you were determined to find out today and claim this oppertunity before anyone else got the chance.

Glancing down at the print out you had made of the ad at the Library, you sighed as you kept going down the street. You had been walking all morning and were beginning to wish you had the foresight to pack a snack or a drink for your seemingly endless sojourn for this supposed place.

There was no picture put onto the advertisement, even a proper description of the place would've been nice, and finding a direct address wasn't exactly a piece of cake to you.

Nonetheless, you kept going. Stopping at every house you passed in hopes to spot a matching address; finding nothing but different numbers and barking dogs tethered in yards.

With every different number meeting your eyes, the possibility of this just being a fake ad just kept growing and growing in your mind.

You were even starting to consider just giving up entirely when, at last, there it was. "292" the numbers were bolted to the front porch, the 9 starting to tilt to one side.

It seemed nice enough. The lawn was well kept, the walkway however looked as if it needed to be redone. The building was a sunbleached blue, probably a nice clean periwinkle once upon a time, but now leaning a tad white and staring to flake. The place was definitely in need of a touch up.

This was the place, now if someone was Home to even just talk to you about this ad that would be great.

You gathered up the courage to leave the sidewalk and start up the overgrown walkway, the wood of the porch whined under your feet as you stepped onto it. A couple of chairs, a book carelessly left behind in one, a little cage sat all by its lonesome in the far corner, and a big unmissable stain (probably coffee) caught your eye on the wood.

The word "Pillarmen" was scrawled on the name card over the mail slot of the front door.

A strange surname, you had never heard of it before, but it must've been safe to assume that it belonged to someone here. Presumably one of the men who had made this advertisement in the first place.

With only a moments hesitation, clutching the print-out in hand, you reached out and rapped on the door hard with your knuckles, then stood back and waited.

Silence... You took the opportunity to fix your appearance slightly, suddenly becoming a little self-conscious, smoothing out your shirt before clasping your hands behind your back neatly and putting on your best smile.

First impressions were important, most especially a first impression made at the door after all.

There came the sounds of voices, too muffled for you to hear through the walls, followed closely by the unmistakable thundering of footsteps coming closer and closer from within.

Finally, the door flung open.

You felt your eyes go a little wide, the smile drained from your face as you craned your neck back slightly to meet the gaze of the very tall and very muscular dark-skinned man that now stood before you.

Belatedly, as your eyes followed the droplets of water that were dripping off him, trickling down every inch of his muscular body and pooling at his feet, you realized he was practically naked; clutching only a fluffy white towel around his waist.

The towel didn't look nearly as fluffy and white as his hair, however.

"Uh--" Your tongue swole in your mouth as you both found yourselves staring at one another, seemingly sharing a similar dumbfounded moment.

He blinked owlishly.

"You're not the Pizza delivery." He said matter-of-factly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you.

Your head shook violently, broke from your sudden stupor, pulling out the slightly crumpled piece of paper out for him to see.

"Uh-- I--... N-No! I'm not-- I'm uh.... here ab-about the-- the roomate ad...?" You sputtered, the words felt as garbled as alphabet soup falling off your tongue, you felt a nervous sweat beading on your skin under your clothes as it hit you for a second time that wasn't wearing any. "Oh! If uh-- this is a bad time I-- I can come back later!"

His face lit up suddenly, eyes shimmering like sapphires. "Oh!" He cried. "I forgot about that!"

The massive man turned, calling back over his shoulder deeper into the apartment.

"Kars! There's a Human here, they saw our advert!"

You happened to be so gobsmacked, still reeling from the slight shock of the very first of your encounter, you hadn't even noticed he distinctly used the word "Human" there.

"What?!"

You couldn't see past the mans hulking figure but you could very well hear the scraping of a chair in the distance, followed by more thundering footsteps heading towards the door.

You blinked as yet another larger-than-life sized man made his appearance, pushing past the first with a frown. The both of them looked almost comically squashed where they stood taking up the whole doorway.

This man was just as tall and as muscular as the first. His skin was like ivory, framed by dark cloth wrapped from his neck to the top of his head with only a tuft of deep purple hair dangling precariously out over his pointed nose.

More importantly, very much unlike the first, this one was fully clothed.

Clad in a dress shirt that matched his hair, slightly unbuttoned to just give you a peak of the buldging muscles he had underneath and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, neatly pressed black dress pants and house shoes.

Kars blinked in surprise as he caught sight of you at last, eyes scanning over you. He honestly hadn't expected someone to come to their door about the advertisement they had put out so quickly, they had only put it out less than a day ago.

If anything, by the way it had turned out, he was surprised someone responded to it at all.

"Please, come in." Kars told you, making his best attempt to save this lousy first impression.

His surprised look was short-lived, turning sharp as he directed it onto Esidisi. The other man smiled sheepishly, turning and retreat back to the bathroom to finish his shower without the pizza he had left it for...

☆☆☆

☆Previously...☆

Kars hummed, reading over the advert for a 4th time with pursed lips.

He had listed all the necessary information about them and the living situation and even put down a few requirements to set the bar for any Human who would happen to want to apply.

However, even with the ground rules set, it still just seemed a little too bare to him.

"Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder towards the living room doorway; he swore he could hear more of the crunching of the flaming hot cheetos Esidisi was enjoying rather than the actual program he was watching. "Is there anything specific you would like to add to this before I post it?"

"Shay they mush be cute!" came the reply though a mouthful of spicy junkfood. Kars could only hope he wasn't getting crumbs all over the couch again, not to mention getting too handsy with the T.V remote eating those things...

"That isn't what qualifies as a 'requirement', Esidisi..." he sighed.

The other swallowed, now blessed with the ability to speak much clearer; the crinkling of the cheeto bag hit Kars' ears next.

"Well excuse me for having standards." He heard his oldest companion grumble, drowned out by the crunch of more food.

Wamuu's head peered out of the kitchen, the pie he was just about to place in the oven cradled in oven-mit hands. He had decided to try his hand at fudge pie this time, having mastered apple so quickly.

"It would be nice if the Human were a Warrior as well," he said, disappearing from Kars' sight again as he went back into the kitchen, carrying the pie to the awaiting oven. "Or perhaps if they were interested in going to the Gym or baking as I do..."

Kars sighed, "Wamuu, I understand you would like someone to train with but this--"

"The Human must not be loud."

The Pillarman practically jumped out of his chair, the tiniest yelp escaping his lips as he swiveled his head to find none other than Santana looming over him. The sheet lines imprinted in the others face indicated he had just arisen from a deep sleep; most likely venturing out of his cave and into the kitchen to see what Wamuu was up to.

Even after thousands of years, he still couldn't get used to the youngest Pillarman sneaking up on him.

It probably didn't even count as "sneaking" anyways as Santana was just so naturally quiet he just happened to go unnoticed until he spoke up.

Kars opened his mouth to make an attempt to speak again, only to be cut off one more time as Esidisi finally made his own appearance; leaning over the purple-haired man to see the advert in the works.

"See, this is all wrong." Esidisi told him, frowning at the screen. "This is too formal! If we're going to get someone at all, we need to grab their attention somehow. Here, I'll fix it!"

The other practically clamored over him, cheeto bag tucked under arm as he reached over to type on the computer, deleting the majority of the title Kars had written out and already replacing it with one of his own creation.

Kars belatedly realized the others' hands were still coated in hot cheeto crumbs, smudging the keys of his pristine computer with imprints of red and orange as he typed away.

"Esidisi, stop this at once!" He commanded, trying to push him at arms length, only to be met with a hand pushing back and smooshing against his face. The smell of spicy cheese flavoring hit his nostrils, only fueling his fire. "This is my work computer! I'm the one writing this advertisement!"

Santana merely stood back, watching the two elder Pillarmen fight over the computer in silence. Esidisi was pushed by Kars into the keyboard a handful of times before their focus was solely on one another and no longer the ad.

"Get your grubby hands off me!" Kars growled as the other straddled him in the chair, his face now smudged like his keyboard. They kept pushing on one another, a clumsy slap war already underway, obscenities and curses getting mangled as they argued back and forth.

"You never let me--"

"I told you that--"

"I wanna do it! Just let me--"

Santana peered down at the computer curiously, uninterested in watching the display before him any longer.

The red-head typed out his own request before picking up the device and carrying it to the kitchen for Wamuu to see and whatever he wished; Santana ignored the sound of two bodies toppeling out of the chair and hitting the floor as he left.

Kars didn't even get to see the ad (or rather; the remainder of what qualified as an advert) before it was posted online by Santana.

[aurabird]

Tainted Blood

Joel doesn’t believe in the demon, going as far as to ignore him entirely. But the Mezalean King’s defiance isn’t what draws Xornoth to him...but something dark and violent, a thirst for blood that cannot be quenched.

What use could a desire so strong be when mixed with corruption?

Tw: I think just blood/violence and corruption for this one.

Also on Ao3

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

Joel struggled against the chains binding him with a frustrated growl. It was obvious that he was in a dungeon of some sort as a prisoner given the way he was being restrained; arms above his head and his legs to the floor. Who would possibly have the audacity to capture him like this?

“Very funny guys. I’m not laughing, you can come out now and free me.” he shouted to no one in particular.

That is when he heard footsteps, his attention being drawn to the sound in time to see Sausage enter the room. The Mythland king wore attire in various grey shades, a black cape fastened around his shoulders by a ruby trailed behind him as he walked with calculated strides.

The outfit change wasn’t the only new thing Joel noticed about the king, black veins webbed across the man’s visible flesh in vine-like patterns, a faint crimson glow pulsating from them. Sausage turned to look at him, piercing red eyes only made more sinister by the same black veins on his face.

“Joel, good to see you’ve finally awoken!” he said with a grin that was far too sharp and a tone of voice that was only slightly off in normalcy.

“Sausage, what is this? I don’t have time for your silly games right now!”

“Games? Joel you wound me. If anyone has been playing games it has been you taunting Lord Xornoth.”

“That’s what this is about? As far as I am concerned the demon doesn’t exist, just some big elaborate prank someone is playing on all of us that we are falling for.”

Suddenly, Sausage was directly in front of him, the sharp grin still crossing their face “Ah, that’s right, he mentioned how you have been ignoring and irritating him.” the Mythland king took a few steps back before continuing, “But that’s why you’re here, he’s going to make sure you can’t ignore him anymore.”

Joel felt a shiver go down his spine at how calm and deathly serious those words were said. “He doesn’t scare me, Sausage, and neither do you.”

“We’ll see about that, King Joel. Yes we will.” came a distorted voice from everywhere in the room at once, the speaker soon materializing before the Mezalean king in a puff of smoke. Their skin was ebony in color, veins very similar to those on Sausage’s own skin covered every inch of their body and the sinister horns growing from their head were constantly pulsating purple and crimson underneath the shadows that slithered around them. A wicked grin stretched across their face, mouth not moving despite saying words.

“Leave us, Champion.” the entity that was definitely not a demon in any way ordered, dismissing the Mythland king with a wave of a clawed hand.

“Of course my lord.” he replied with a bow before taking his leave, the sound of stone grinding against stone was heard as a door closed behind him, leaving Joel alone with the entity.

“So, Xornoth right? Sausage claims you’re going to keep me from ignoring you.” Joel began with a bored, condescending tone in his voice.

“While that is true, your defiance isn’t what perked my interest in you, there is something else...something dark inside your soul that I am quite curious about. I believe you call it bloodlust?”

“What about it?”

“I find it something worth studying further.”

The chains binding Joel unlocked with unspoken command, causing him to slump to the ground where crimson tendrils were quick to coil around his limbs, preventing any struggle or movement as they held him against the cold floor.

The sound of a sword being dragged across stone drew his attention, Xornoth holding the blade in his hand, “What triggers it I wonder? Is it the sight of blood or the lack thereof?” Joel didn’t get to reply as the demon cut into his left arm, allowing crimson to poor freely from the wound.

  He ran through the forest, the wolves at his heels howling as they bayed for the blood of their prey, Joel giving a wicked grin as the desire to kill urged him forwards. He could hear them in the distance, the King and his Hand fleeing for their lives.

“THE RED KING DIES TONIGHT FELLAS!” he cackled with sadistic glee, a look of madness in his red eyes as they entered the war-torn remains of a desert.

  The scene faded as quickly as it began, Joel’s body shaking like a leaf in fear at what he’d just seen. He’d witnessed that moment countless times over in his nightmares, but never whilst awake.

Xornoth’s smile grew at the sight of the man’s fear, “Guess you aren’t as fearless as you like to believe.” he said.

Joel snarled, “Sh-Shut up. You know nothing about me!”

“I know you deny my existence and infuriate me with your defiance. I know of your bond with the Ocean Queen and the Codfather...”

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on either of them!”

His threat was ignored as the demon chuckled “Oh, I won’t. But you will.”

Agony coursed through Joel’s body at those words, a cry tearing from his throat as his skin burned where the crimson tendrils made contact with it.

  His foot nicked the fiery liquid pouring from above, an ember quickly setting his pants ablaze and causing him to panic. He scrambled as fast as he could to get over the stone brick wall and into the swamp water he knew lay beyond it.

In his act of desperation he got caught up in a lava stream which trapped his legs in sheer agony as it wasted no time incinerating flesh, his vision going black from the pain, a mercy from one of the most painful deaths.

Green eyes bore into his brown ones as the girl glared at him with a satisfied grin, the flames licking the walls of his house out of revenge casting a shadow on her decaying body and torn clothes.

The flames danced around him as he panicked to try and put them out, but to no avail, once more his body was consumed by an inferno.

  Joel’s eyes snapped open as he was brought back to reality, his gaze quickly locking onto the black webs slowly creeping up his arms from where they came in contact with the crimson tendrils.

Everything burned as the corruption spread through him, taking control of his motor functions and causing him to cease his struggling.

The demon's maniac laughter echoed throughout the room almost taunting him. Anger flared in his chest and the sight of blood staining stone from where he’d been sliced with a sword fueled a desire to kill.

His vision turned red as a haze began to wrap around his mind, but Joel didn’t fight it, the bloodlust was familiar and welcoming to him...but why there was also something different about it this time?

He had no time to question it as soon, Joel’s thoughts were no longer his own and the pain faded. The Mezalean King’s now-red eyes burned brightly as he looked up to meet those of his master, a twisted smile curving on his lips before he spoke.

“What do you wish me to do to them, Lord Xornoth?”

[aminiatureworld]

In My Dreams II

Characters: Diluc, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,273

Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack

Premise: The past is many things. Something to admire, something to learn from, something to hold dear. And yet how unreliable it can be, especially in the hands of ghosts.

In which the reader dreams of the past.

Author’s Note: Translation notes and historical references will come after the fic. The history nerd really came out this time around.  

Diluc

You knew that holding onto the past too much was a dangerous game to play. Yet you continued to chase it, desperately looking for something that might finally bridge your present self to the person you’d left behind.

You’d been mostly upfront to Diluc about this obsession of yours. Knowing that your partner also lost his family, it was easier in some ways to grasp onto this shared loss, and to use it as a way to continue on. Not that Diluc ever pushed you to forget your past, as other might have done. Instead he tried to help you, using his not inconsiderable connections to attempt to find as such land that matched the vague descriptions you could give. Though you knew the quest was most likely no more than a wild goose, you greatly appreciated his attempt to help.

However you knew that even someone as kind and understanding as Diluc would never be able to condone something like this.

You rubbed your arms, feeling every inch of the cold musty ruins around you. You’d heard that a sizeable group of Abyss members were gathering here and figured that these figures who boasted of civilizations long gone might be valuable pieces of information. Though sneaking into a gathering of the upper members of the Abyss was perhaps not the smartest thing you’d ever done. It was too late to turn back now however. Ducking into a corner you slowed your breathing, hoping that no one would care to look at the nook in which you were now curled up.

Listening to the slow creaking of the domain you suddenly felt the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as the air grew charged with magic. The room around you suddenly grew completely silent, as if even the walls were aware of something important. Not daring to sneak a peak at what was happening you closed your eyes, willing your senses to focus on your ears.

“My brethren, I’m glad to see you.”

Opening your eyes wide you gathered your control, willing yourself to not immediately turn around. The voice was familiar, its cadence smooth and soothing, polished as marble. It struck something within you, some deep hidden memory that you’d long ago forgotten. Now that memory struggled to the surface of your mind, the sketch of a long ago time.

“I know that our plans are continuing smoothly. Soon we will able to Khaenri’ah, and topple those who so callously left it to smolder, having lit the flame themselves. We will one more emerge into the world, no longer required to hide our faces.”

The words passed through you, intangible as air. What were they talking about? Nothing was making sense, not one word was something you could interpret. And yet the voice seemed almost an explanation in itself. If you knew who was talking then you’d find out the answers, or at least some of them. Vraning your head ever so slightly you looked up, jerking back slightly in shock as you found amber eyes staring right at you.

The person who was talking was immensely familiar, everything about them echoed with a long gone familiarity. Looking out of place amidst the rank and file members of the Abyss he exuded a cold sort of confidence, a determination to see his words realized. Staring at him you noticed the emblem which embellished the scarf he wore around his neck, a golden eagle which seemed to move with the fabric. A part of you was tempted to run, but you found yourself frozen, trying desperately to process the figure which danced before your eyes.

The young man said nothing, gaze shifting as he calmly began to speak again, though you couldn’t hear his words over the pounding of your heart. When his gaze once more passed yours he grinned an understanding sort of grin. It was as if you two were cohorts in some sort of pranks of scheme, rather than complete strangers who stood on opposites ends of an invisible struggle. The gesture confused you, and you found yourself sinking back to the ground. Putting your head in your arms you took a few deep breaths. You would figure out what was going on. It was alright, there was a logical explanation for this. Perhaps he just wanted to finish up this odd gathering before turning his minions upon you.

And yet the order to attack never came. After what must’ve been at least an hour the young man declared the gathering over. The air filled with the familiar mark of waypointing, and soon the ruin was once more deadly quiet. Straightening your back you studied the wall opposite of you, sure that you were dreaming a confusing sort of dream.

“You can come out now.”

You jumped, freezing as you wondered what to do. You thought that you were alone, yet he remained. Was this the moment, had you truly just been tricked.

“You don’t have to be so afraid.” Laughter drifted to your ears. “I promise the rest are gone.”

Slowly turning around you peered over the broken wall once more. True to the young man’s word there was no one left, only the two of you.  Standing up slowly you summoned your sword, still not trusting the person in front of you.

“What is it?”

“That’s the last thing I expect you to ask.” The young man was smirking now. “Surely there are more important things.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You wound me! Have you truly forgotten the face of your family.”

The words felt jagged, almost accusatory. You stiffened, face twisting into a scowl as you moved your sword slightly forward.

“You’re a liar.”

“I assure you I’m not! Why, I cannot believe you truly have forgotten so much. Is it just me, or have we all been banished from your thoughts?”

Reaching into his pocket he threw something at you. Catching it you stared at the egg, mind full of half-incredulous questions. The egg was evidently a work of ambition and love, its outer shell the color of the night. Diamonds crept up the sides of the egg, embedded into gold that shone even in the dark of your current place. There were four portraits embedded into the sides, studded with diamonds and crowned with stars that seemed so bright and silverly you were almost afraid to run your fingers over them. Something that seemed to be monograms sat underneath the portraits, but the script evaded your understanding.

Shifting your gaze to the portraits you found an even greater surprise. The person staring back at you, a small smile on her face, was you – though you couldn’t recognize the complex dress in which you’d been painted. The portrait was such a good likeness it took your breath away, the miniscule brush strokes truly the work of a master painter. Rotating the egg slowly you recognized the young man in front of you as the next model. Sporting what could only be some sort of military uniform, small medals of red and blue lined up on top of a blue sash, he seemed to be joking with the artist, his cocky smile offset by the stark lighting of his eyes. Next was a woman, somewhat who could only be this boy’s mother. He face was set in a straight line, her expression one of regal aloofness, as if she was thinking of something very far away. She was wearing the same sort of dress as you, though hers was much more complex in nature. The clothing screamed importance, as if to confirm the expression on her face. Lastly you found yourself looking at the portrait of someone who was presumably the boy’s father. Surprisingly under dressed her wore the same uniform as the boy, the only distinction being the number of medals. No crown sat on his head, no sign of any particular regal bearing shone in the portrait; instead there was a tiredness about him, a cloud which betrayed the fact that he was ultimately quite unworthy of remembrance.

“Do you remember now?”

You looked up wildly, denial fighting with realization as you shook your head. This wasn’t remembering; remembering was something else entirely. Remembering wasn’t the feel of the world sinking around you, remembering wasn’t losing faith in the world around you.

“Are you telling me that this means nothing to you?” Accusation flooded the boy’s speech as he glared at you.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I, I don’t trust this.”

“Always the same sister.” The boy’s tone was mocking now. “You always were the suspicious one, and as unambitious as our poor father once was.”

“Was?”

“He’s changed his tune quite a bit. He had too, of course. How could anyone stay so weak after surviving what we survived?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about death. Or as close to it as one can get I suppose. You should know this, you were there when they stormed the place, when they took us away. You were there when we were ordered to the basement.”

A flash of memory danced in your vision, speeding up your breath as you were overtaken by sudden panic. Swaying slightly you screwed your eyes shut, letting out a cry of frustration when the memory only grew stronger. You were dancing for a moment, spinning around with the boy in front of you as a distant melody drifted upon the air. Then you were inside an unfamiliar place, the new space so claustrophobic it squeezed the air out of you, the windows, having been painted over, offered no reprise. Then it was midnight and you were shuffling outside. The stars seemed so distant; they’d stared cold and unfeeling down as you shuffled behind a familiar figure, entering a door which seemed so familiar.

You leaned against the stone wall, trying to find some sort of reprieve in the cold damp of it. Forcing your eyes open you stared once more at the strange boy in front of you. His expression was one of ill-concealed triumph, mixed with barely suppressed rage.

“Do you see now? Do you see what they did to us? A wonder any of us escaped at all, then again I suppose those wretched idiots had no sense of magic. They were after all a bunch of thugs.”

“Where… where was that place?” You heaved slightly, feeling as if the ground was floating underneath you.

“Somewhere long destroyed. No point in thinking of it now. There is only this world after all. This world and the destruction that seized it as well. Only this one can be saved.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Khaenri’ah! The city struck down by the gods who could contemplate no power except their own! Their people suffered the fate of ours, should they not get the revenge we will never be allowed?”

“You’re mad.”

“Am I? Or are you just the same coward as always?” The boy shook his head. Pointing to the egg in your hand he back away. “You can keep it. Think of it as a memento, a way to contact me. If you ever wish to see right, well, I’ll be waiting.”

And then he was gone, so fast it was as if he’d never existed, as if he’d suddenly turned to dust. Sinking to the ground you pushed scalding air into your lungs, watching helplessly as your vision spotted around you. What had you done, oh gods what had you done?

The return trip to the Winery was an excruciating one. At first panic had been your only sensation, as you half stumbled, half crawled your way out of the Abyss’ lair, stopping every few minutes to lay down as to not pass out. The moment you got into the open air you made your way towards the nearest stream, waterlogging yourself in your hurry to pour icy water down your throat. Collapsed on the back you stared up at the sky. It was still night, which meant Diluc was probably guarding Mondstadt. You prayed to Barbatos that he wouldn’t notice your absence, for how could you deal with your shame? You’d been so foolish. How could you have ever expected things to turn out well? Now you were simply paying the price for your arrogance.

Finally lifting yourself up from your position you stumbled the rest of the way to the Winery, careful to keep your mind blank, afraid of what might happen if you let panic once more set in. Tears pricked in your eyes as familiar vines appeared within your sight, and you could’ve cried for joy upon opening the sturdy oaken door and crossing the threshold of the place you’d learned to call home. Creeping upstairs, hoping desperately that you hadn’t managed to wake any of the other residents, you breathed a sigh of relief when you entered the familiar bedroom which you’d grown to call you own. Sinking down onto the coverlet you let out a soft sigh, finally letting tears fall as you drifted off to sleep.

 -------

Yet your dreams refused to offer you any sort of reprieve. Finding yourself in a darkened hall you silently passed a variety of rooms, their imposing grandeur a familiar one. Someone seemed to be whispering a song in your ear, though when you turned to see who it was no one appeared.

“How can I desert you, how to tell you why.”

Reaching a room even grandeur than the rest you stared at the chairs that sat on dais on the opposite side from where you entered. They shimmered as if a mirage, and when you went to approach them two figures seemed to appear out of thin air. The man and the woman that were painted into the egg gazed at you with sad eyes, each saying nothing as you continued to make your way towards them.

“Let me have a moment, let me say goodbye.”

“Who are you?” You called out to them. The woman turned her head, as if ashamed of your lapse of memory. The man stood up slowly, arms reaching towards you slightly. Hurrying your pace you moved to meet him, spurred on by some unrecognized emotion.

“Harsh and sweet and bitter to leave it all.”

You as you reached the man he vanished, red ash falling softly to the ground in his wake. Gasping in horror you watched as the woman did the same. Suddenly the dream began to crumble, burning itself away to reveal nothing but black. Dropping you into an eternal night you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll bless my homeland ‘til I die.”

You bolted up, mind struggling to place where you were. Looking around you, your eyes were met with the familiar comforts of your home. A soft light drifting through the crack in the curtains, the foretelling of the dawn.

Besides you Diluc stirred. Sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes in a gesture which made your heart squeeze, he glanced at you through sleep eyes.

“Is there something wrong, my love?”

You meant to say no, to assure him that you’d just had a strange dream. Yet the softness of his voice was contrasted so with the venom of the young man and the silence of the people who seemed to have been your family that you found yourself cracking. The sobs were soft at first, but soon you found yourself wailing, not caring how your hoarse voice pierced through the quiet of the Winery.

“My love?”

Diluc immediately wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you continued to sob into his chest, staining his nightshirt with tears as you cried out all the tears you could possibly contain. You felt like the world around you was shattering, like nothing was real anymore. You felt as if all you had held to was suddenly gone, and nothing remained but searing contempt.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.”

Diluc carded his fingers through your hair, whispering soft words of comfort as your sobs diminished. Finally you felt completely spent, and as you relaxed in his arms you felt a sudden surge of tiredness, washing over you and calling you once more to the perilous depths of sleep.

“May I ask you what’s wrong?”

You fought your fatigue, disconnecting yourself slightly as to look Diluc in the face. Could you tell him what had occurred? Could you lay bare your weakness, your shame, your guilt? A part of you recoiled at the idea. And yet, as you stared at Diluc you found yourself recounting what happened, shaky breaths accompanying your soft confession. Lowering your gaze you spoke of your night, grateful that Diluc never let his arms leave you.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” Lifting your gaze you found Diluc’s eyes raw, his expression one of surprising honesty.

“I was selfish, and I didn’t expect the consequences of my action. All I could think of was the past, of getting back what I’d once had.”

“And is that not a natural thing?” Diluc took a deep breath, hold on you tightening slightly. “If I could not remember what had happened to my father – if I woke up one day in an  unfamiliar place with nothing but a sense of loss – I would go to the ends of the world to find what I’d lost. There is no crime in wanting your loved ones home, even when you cannot recognize them.”

“And yet it seems the only survivor has turned into a monster.”

“Does that make your past love for him any less? Do the bonds of family immediately cut the moment our loved ones turn rotten?”

You thought back to the young man in the ruins, to his mockery and his impatience. You hated him, you hated what he was doing. And yet you missed him, you somehow missed him so much. Turnign towards the nightstand you opened the small drawer. Pulling out the egg you’d been given you examined it in the dim light. How beautiful it was, how different from the image that had been put in front of you.

“Do you wish to forget what you have remembered?” Diluc’s voice was filled with nothing but kindness.

“No.” Even if it embarrassed you to say, you knew it was the truth.

“Then don’t forget it.”

You smiled, placing the egg once more in your drawer. Though it had only been a few words, though this terrible night hadn’t been erased from your memory, you somehow found yourself much lighter. Turning to Diluc you pressed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you.”

Diluc said nothing, merely leaning down to kiss you as well. Cushioned in the familiar sanctuary of his arms you allowed the darkness of your encounter to drift from your mind.

 -----

Drifting off to sleep you found yourself once more in a corridor, face to face with the man who was once your father. You stared at him, wondering if he would disappear again.

“Are you truly happy as you are now?”

“Yes.” Somehow you knew it was the truth.

“I see,” the man nodded, a slight smile flashing across his face, “then we shall keep you no longer.”

Leaning over he kissed you softly on the forehead. Next to him now stood the woman who was one your mother. Smiling now, a smile which utterly transformed her melancholy aura, she wrapped you in a hug.

“Do not forget us.” She whispered.

Even as the words were spoken you knew that you never could.

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

The egg that I used this time around is a reference to Faberge eggs. The tradition having been started by Alexander III giving an egg every Easter to Empress Maria Feodorovna, the tradition was continued by Nicholas the second - who gave an egg to his wife and his mother every year. Each egg is a masterpiece of innovation and creativity and is breathtaking in its aesthetic and in the mechanic of hiding its “surprise”. The two eggs I used as reference were the Alexander Palace Egg (1908) and the Twelve Monogram Egg (1896).

The song that I referenced this time around was “Stay I Pray You” from the Anastasia musical. Highly recommend.

The parents are based off of Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna. I do not have time to go into them because we will be here for 300 years. The dresses I mentioned are traditional Russian court gowns. An image will be linked in the reblog.

[milfbenkenobi]

Star Wars Fic Rec List Part 3

All of these are complete, some may be part of an incomplete series.

Face the Music by CrystalShard

Word count: 3933 Chapter count: 1

Thanks to a slight mishap while communing with kyber crystals, Anakin can hear music that he's never noticed before. And his personal orchestra has Very Definite Opinions on some of his choices. Especially when it comes to Chancellor Palpatine.

Anakin gains a soundtrack for his life and has an crisis

——————

Better as a Team by Ontologicialmoki

Word count: 1203 Chapter count: 1

Jedi Masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Aayla Secura run into trouble on a joint mission, and Obi-wan cares more about his sister than the bureaucrats he's supposed to be negotiating with. Not enough to abandon the mission, but they can certainly handle a little delay. Especially when they go and put Master Secura in jail.

or

It occurred to me that the Jedi are probably legally siblings under the Republic, and this probably comes in handy sometimes.

A short little fic about Obi-Wan bailing Aayla out of jail using a legal loophole. Super funny, plus a bonus confused/affectionate Mace

——————

what hides behind dusty windows by freelancestargazing

Word count: 32724 Chapter count: 4

“Do you have any stories, Captain?”

“I do.” Rex settles his hands on the table, fingers entwined and holding a fist. “I’d like to tell you the story of Echo and Fives, two of ours who went missing earlier today while on mission, CT numbers Twenty-One-Zero-Four-Zero-Eight and Twenty-Seven-Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five.”

The cadets frown, a synchronous motion that might’ve made Rex laugh under other circumstances.

“Sir?” One of them asks hesitantly. “I- I don’t understand, how- how could they be Twenty-One-Zero-Four-Zero-Eight and Twenty-Seven-Fifty-Five-Fifty-Five? That’s—” he gestures at his vod, “that’s us.”

Or: as the newest additions to the 501st, Echo and Fives are desperate to prove themselves worthy, but being Forced back to their cadet selves is not quite what they had in mind.

Echo and Fives are deaged and the 501st accidentally uncovers a kaminoan plot

——————

Shenanigans by MissTeaVee

Word count: 2417 Chapter count: 1

You'd THINK that clones can tell each other apart. But apparently all it takes to fool even your best buddy is to dye your hair to the regular brown and wear shiny armor.

Rex has a laugh, Ponds can't believe these dummies.

Rex pulls a prank on the CC clones

——————

Rainfall by kckenobi

Word count: 1408 Chapter count: 1

The first time Anakin sees rain, and the first time Obi-Wan dances in it.

Baby Anakin and Obi-Wan have some bonding time

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A walk on part in the war by Victoria_p(musesfool)

2 work series. Word count: 10394

Vader presents Ahsoka with an ultimatum.

Luke considers this family reunion far more successful than the one in Cloud City. At least this time, no one loses a hand.

Ahsoka is taken prisoner a few years before A New Hope, Luke breaks her out, family drama ensues.

—————

The Honey Between Our Shadows by amphrite

Word count: 13721 Chapter count: 1

A decade after the dawn of the Empire, Purge Trooper CC-2224 discovers a former Jedi general hiding on Tatooine. But the traitor isn’t what he expected: wisecracking and magnanimous—and heartbroken. And then there’s the unnerving way he looks at CC-2224, like he’s seen his nightmares and been acquainted with every blaster scar on his body.

Or: a roundabout justification for why Darth Vader never finds Obi-Wan and Luke on Tatooine.

Oooooooh boy this is an angsty one fellas. Super good, Purge Trooper!Cody stumbles across obi-wan on Tattooine and Does Not Shoot Him

——————

I thought I spent this war alone by stonefreek

Word count: 3783 Chapter count: 1

Obi-Wan is thirteen years old, just about to start learning Ataru from his Master.

Obi-Wan is sixty-one years old, dead and one with the Force since four years back.

Obi-Wan is both, and neither.

Time traveling Ben Kenobi finds himself back in his padawan body, with the memories of both and the confusion of twelve.

——————

Shades in the Desert by loosingletters

Word count: 10806 Chapter count: 1

Not even from a certain point of view did Darth Vader kill Anakin Skywalker. He wished he did, but the specter of the Jedi’s light escaped before he could finalize his fall to the dark. Meanwhile, Anakin is raising his son on Tatooine.

It would be easier if:

1) he weren’t a Force ghost nobody but his toddler could see and 2) Obi-Wan would stick around so somebody could teach Luke about the Force.

When Anakin falls, his soul is yote (yeeted?) from his body and he proceeds to haunt his son on Tattooine. Luke has no idea that a magic invisible dad isn’t normal, by the way.

——————

A Tale of Two Ahsokas by ilenya_sith and merfilly

Word count: 11270 Chapter count: 1

All Ahsoka (either of them) wanted in life was to make it all better. Sometimes, especially when a Force Avatar can bend the rules, wishes can be pushed through. Maybe.

Rebels-era Ahsoka swaps places with Clone Wars-era Ahsoka. Amazing fic, lots of “oh dear lord you’re tall” and “Jesus Christ you’re short from the two sides”

——————

I would link parts one and two, but tumblr’s tagging system decided none of my posts exist anymore. Sorry about that.