#i was a little nervous about these two seeming a bit too farfetched even for fakemon

[claitea]

so i wanted to try my hand at making fakemon! decided i'd start simple, a regional variant (sort of) so there was an existing pokemon to base it on and i wouldn't have to go from scratch.

ghost pokemon often have dark backstories so i wondered, what if i undid that, what if i changed a pokemon so it was no longer sad or scary? ghosts usually have a reason for coming back to life too, spite or unfinished business, so what about a ghost that moved on from its tragic past and found a happier life?

detailled explanations for these two under the cut!

first off, the stats are the same as yamask and cofagrigus with the def and spdef swapped, like how galarian yamask and runerigus also have the same stats with atk and spatk swapped.

masquerade yamask can only be found behind the theatre in nimbasa city, like other regional variants you can't just form change a normal yamask into one. it evolves into theatrigus after performing in the musical with high friendship. in hoenn and sinnoh this would be a contest instead, and filming a video with it in kalos. no idea what you'd do in the other regions honestly. no theatrigus for you galarians.

the idea is that yamask that liked the theatre were able to move on from their past life by finding a new passion. it keeps its old mask, but it doesnt cry when it looks at it anymore. its just a reminder of a fond memory from a different time, but yamask is just as happy in the present now and no longer has a reason to lament its past life.

theatrigus was tough to design at first. originally i kept trying to make its face look a lot more like cofagrigus, but it looked too scary, not what you'd expect from a playful actor. cofagrigus's dex says it forgot its memories of being human, and runerigus is straight up cursed probably, but theatrigus isn't cursed or spiteful after losing its memories (i assume it doesnt lose them at all). so i figured it was good enough reasoning for theatrigus to look friendlier and cuter because there was no negative force that turned it monstrous. it still looks odd enough for a ghost/fairy type

theatrigus is just "theatre+egregious" like cofagrigus and runerigus, but after googling egregious's definition i found it used to mean "distinguished" instead of "bad". so the name scheme still fits!

bulbapedia says yamask is based on "ba", a part of the egyptian concept of the soul; what makes a person unique, similar to a personality. the ba is depicted as a bird with a human head. theatrigus is the opposite, it looks like a bird usually (yamask looked like one too so i leaned into that), but it can shapeshift to copy the lower body of a person.

it's fairy type because of its shapeshifting, since thats a common thing for fairies to do in fairy tales and myths. shapeshifting is how i decided to incorporate an actor changing roles or costume. the fluffy mist is supposed to look like fairy dust, a feather boa you might associate with old timey famous people, and the way that in cartoons or games a character might suddenly change appearance in a puff of smoke.

[yandere-sins]

Yandere Kageyama please! Maybe he is the leader of the Mafia or a Gang leader?

Now this is very farfetched, but yandere!yakuza!Kageyama? Hot. Didn’t make him the leader in case I want to write more for that AU. It wouldn’t make sense if he was a leader yet in the long run.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

Dealing with other people had never been your strong point.

It wasn’t like you lacked social skills, and you had a few friends to prove that. However, you just weren’t good at negotiations or lying. Being in a tense conversation always made you nervous, as did having to stand your ground and not be a push-over. Then again, you probably would have made it through your life just fine if not for that one mistake.

You cursed your ‘best friend’ quietly under your breath as you walked the long hallways. Feet on wood made those full, echoing sound of steps, letting you know that this was real wooden flooring, only the best of the best and expensive as hell. Things that could be bought when one lends out money and then asked for more and more back.

At the same time, you had to curse yourself too. How stupid had you been to co-sign a contract you hadn’t even read?! Who did this in this day and age, just blindly believing that you weren’t just selling off your soul to someone else’s cause? Of course, no one expected your friend to bail the moment his brilliant idea of a business got ruined, leaving him deep in debt. Still, now it was your responsibility to pay back the money you never even possessed in your whole life.

Anyone would have been nervous, wringing their hands as they got escorted through the traditional mansion. From afar, you heard calm, serene deer scares clicking and water flowing into a pond. Everything seemed so perfect.

Perfect enough to hide a lot of secrets.

Only the person who had greeted you, a tiny, young man with very noticeable orange hair, seemed as if he had no care in the world. He hummed happily, occasionally throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still following, before moving forward in what could be best described as carefree jumps.

“It’ll be alright,” he hummed, after watching your wringing hands. You managed a faint smile, wanting to believe him but finding it hard to after having done your research. This wasn’t just a loan shark facility. The Karasuno clan wasn’t just men in suits with more papers than words. They were the kind of people you didn’t want to pick a fight with, the ones you’d avoid at night. The ones really desperate people would go to for help when the government refused them. The ones your best friend thought he could trust after every bank denied him a loan.

And now it was all on you to meet these people, anxiety or not.

You were led into a nice tatami room, with only one table and two seating pillows filling it. A waste of living space, but it sure left an impression. To be able to afford a mansion so big to have an almost empty conference room in it surely was something to look in awe upon.

“Kageyama will be with you in a bit. Make yourself at home!” your guide chimed, grinning widely before he shut the door behind you. Now, you were all on your own, and you shifted your weight on your feet for a while before deciding to sit down. Just standing around would be very rude, too, right? The last thing you wanted to make was a bad impression, even though that meant you had nothing to get your mind off until it was time to meet that Kageyama-guy.

Meaning, the moment the sliding door flew open, you jumped hard, having been in your thoughts for just a minute too long. “[Name]?” the person who entered asked, and you stuttered a quick, “Y-Yeah?” back. He nodded approvingly before walking over, taking the seat across from you, and you began to wonder if you were sitting on the right side of the table or if there were any rules for that.

“I’m Tobio Kageyama, thank you for coming,” he introduced himself, reaching inside the jacket of his black suit - matching the dark tuft of hair he had perfectly. For a second, you thought those were the last words you’d hear before he pulled a gun on you, but instead, he made a letter appear, as well as an expensive-looking pen.

“This is your signature, correct?” He unfolded the paper for you to see, pointing at the bottom where he had it black ink on white paper, your very own signature. “Yes...” you mumbled, slowly curling into yourself. “Alright, did you have any contact with the person who took out the loan lately? We’ve been trying to find them, but if we can’t, that would mean that you need to pay--”

“I don’t have the money.”

Whatever had ridden you to interrupt him like this vanished with the little bit of confidence you had left. You felt sweat collect on your forehead, and you were too afraid to look up at him, while Kageyama’s mouth hung open, in the middle of saying something. Closing it, he looked at the table, followed by some taps on the wooden surface.

“Do we... do we know each other?” he asked suddenly, catching you off-guard. But he managed to draw your attention again, eyes flitting up to look at his face. “I- I’m not sure, do we?”

“Second year of high school, I think I sat a few rows behind you.”

Blinking, you could barely believe what you were hearing. “Huh, you were? I’m sorry... I must have forgotten... Or wait, you were really into volleyball back then, right?”

A smile crossed his face, nothing you would have described as sincere, but it seemed like a well-meant try. Still, you felt a bit of relief ease the tension in your shoulders, despite not exactly being safe even now. “I’m glad you remembered. I just noticed.”

Clearing his throat, he looked back down at the paper again, pointing his pen towards a large number with a lot of zeroes, making you shift your attention. “See, the problem is that this was my first deal with someone from outside the organization, and I’d absolutely hate to sit on this kind of money. You understand that, right? I eventually have to give it back to my bosses, and for that, it would be really bad for me to not have it, right?”

“I understand...” you mumbled, gulping at the big sum he was talking about. “But I really don’t have it! If I could, I would give it to you right away, but there’s no way for me to pay it back anytime soon.”

Kageyama watched you intently, time passed painfully slow. Something about his unblinking stare was unsettling, but you figured he might just be thinking right now, and instead removed your eyes from him shamefully. It was your fault, and you’d do the right thing if you could to make up for it, but as you were, there was no way to do so.

“I believe you,” he eventually agreed, pulling the paper off the table and back into the pocket inside of his jacket. “So here’s what we will do instead.”

Reaching into the opposite side from where he had just put the document into - and you were almost a hundred percent sure that this was your death sentence now and he’d pull a gun - he produced a silken, deep black, and long piece of fabric. “For as long as the debt isn’t paid, you’ll work for me. There is a lot to do, and you’ll not complain nor search for outside help while you work here. I hope you understand that if you can’t pay back what you owe, we will have to find other people in your surroundings to help you; your family, for example.”

Holding out the piece of fabric towards you, Kageyama leaned forward over the table. “I only do that because we have past together, [Name]. I’d hate if there was something happening to someone I know just because one more asshole runs away from their responsibilities. I can help you, and this is a good option, believe me. No harm will come to you or anyone else this way.”

The offer sounded reasonable enough, despite you not missing the bad notions in it that he so carefully threaded into his words. In the end, even if you knew each other, he too was a yakuza, serving his own and his clan’s purpose more than anyone’s. This was a merciful suggestion compared to the alternatives, and you could not imagine how your parents would take it if they were to be bothered by people like him.

Agreeing despite your better judgment, you took the thing from him, stretching it in your hand. It was soft, and honestly, you could imagine yourself wearing a pajama in it; it was that comfortable. “Uhm...” you mumbled, realizing you didn’t know what to do with that. “Please put it on,” he instructed, standing up. Only now did you realize it was perfectly made to be used as a blindfold.

Despite your hands shaking, you hesitantly covered your eyes with it, thanking God that if this was your end, you’d at least not have to see it coming. You flinched when you felt two other hands coming down onto the back of your head, helping you to secure the fabric tightly before you were asked for your hand to help you up. Up till now, you weren’t dead yet, so that was an achievement. “It’s just for security reasons, don’t worry. I’ll bring you somewhere safe, so just follow my lead.”

His fingers linked with yours - weird considering you two weren’t so close to justify such an affectionate hold on you - and you felt his tug, urging you forward. “Where... Where will we be going?” you asked, hearing the sliding door open, followed by a small chuckle of a third voice, before familiar-sounding footsteps took off before you two. Kageyama clicked his tongue, and you already felt like you had made a mistake, unable to see that his reaction had been for someone else entirely.

“Don’t worry, [Name],” he assured you, but his lack of answering your question barely helped you.

Still, all you could do was trust him, now that you were in his care.

Trusting was something you were very good at after all, Kageyama was aware. You’d trust a friend you’d only known for a few months and co-sign his contract with the yakuza. You’d trust said yakuza when he told you he had work for you to fulfill the deed. And you trusted Kageyama to be sincere, when really, he had set you up to come to him and agree to his conditions without complaining, letting yourself be taken to his room easily.

A room in which really no one could hear you when you screamed as the Karasuno clan’s prodigy would do all the things to you he had been dreaming about for years now.

[jack-is-lost]

Since there's a David one, what about Paul's mate???

I’ll do my best, Anon dude! I hope this all makes sense too. 

Paul comes off as someone who might move a little too fast. It isn’t entirely on purpose, just that his personality is a bit wild and headstrong.

Like David, Paul might not know what to do at first. However, unlike David, he wouldn’t want to ignore it. Paul would slide right into his mate’s life like a guy who accidentally bumps into somebody on the street. He’d laugh, shining that wide smile, and bend down to help pick up whatever fell — if anything did. Spilled a drink? He’d offer to buy a new one. He feels this connection bursting within his ribcage. The way his mate joins in on the laughter and shy glances fueling it. It doesn’t feel awkward when he’d start to walk alongside them as if they were always going in the same direction. Throughout it all, Paul would keep a form of small talk going — anything to keep the air between them light-hearted. It isn’t surprising if he throws an arm over their shoulders, either. As if they were best buds for years now. It just feels good to be close to them, and they become the center of his attention.

Of course, as time passes and he’d meet up with his mate more often, Paul would fight this festering need to share the big secret. He doesn’t like lying to them and making up stories. It puts a toll on him, and he can see it doing the same to his mate. He can tell that they are starting to worry and think too much. Paul can, as well, reason how his own actions might come off. It would be easy to assume that this thing between them isn’t important. Maybe a summer fling? Maybe a side-gig, of sorts. He comes of charismatic, after all, and easy-going with everyone. It isn’t, of course. Paul can feel how much it would break him to lose his mate. Yet, he can’t just blurt it out, not all at once, but it needs to be explained soon. So, for a while, Paul would make sure his mate knows he only has eyes for them.

Paul would make a point to go on crazy, fun-filled dates. He’d win them prizes, and go on joy rides to absolutely nowhere. The destination never matters because it is all about how it makes them both feel. Hearing his mate let free, to howl and hoot with him, makes him soar with excitement. The high would come down, though, on the nights when Paul is thinking about confessing. Of sharing more than he is comfortable about. It is getting harder to hide it all. His mate keeps asking about his past, of family, and how he met the guys. They are showing honest signs of wanting to be a part of his life, and Paul doesn’t know if they are ready. It is eating at him. One night, with just the two of them dangling their legs over a cliff — empty food and drinks behind them, Paul stares off at the ocean and begins speaking. He doesn’t want to look over at his mate, too worried about how they are looking at him — of how their silence seems deafening. He doesn’t stop talking, though, the words tumbling out like a broken record. He just wants it OUT. All of it. Maybe his mate, in the beginning, thought Paul might be playing a game — perhaps telling a farfetched story. It seems otherworldly, crazy, but that’s Paul. He embodies the definition of wild. The more he spoke, however, the more they can tell he is being serious. What started as a smile with a nervous pitch in his voice has fallen to a more somber note, gaze never meeting theirs. I’d like to imagine, whoever steals Paul’s heart, isn’t some docile being. That his mate would, in some form, share his high energy and can keep up with it. So, despite mentioning vampires and possible death, they wouldn’t be scared enough to take his hand. Perhaps they might even crack a joke, anything to get Paul to look at them again. He would return the light squeeze, feeling entirely relieved that his mate didn’t up and run for it. From there on they would take it slow. There is no race to the finish line, even though Paul openly shows off his vampire abilities now — his strengths and flight, for example — neither of them rushes it. He waits patiently for his mate to make the decision. They sometimes talk about it, but only to make sure they are on the same page. That someday his mate will be his for eternity.

And, of course, he’d be there every step of the way into their transition. I can envision him embracing his mate after their first official kill, smothering them in kisses and praises. All before making some sexual joke, probably.  

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Cancellation

I just wanna straight up apologise for whatever the fuck this is because I have NEVER written for this man in my life, the only reason I have the urge to at the moment is because of a tik tok series done by an amazing user called thisnerdcosplays

BUT, people always say things get better with practice, so here’s to that long ass road because how dare people make me thirst for this man.

To clarify the content is usually about their hilarious OC but the Vlad King interactions have me fucking dying. So yeah.

AND YES. I did have to make a new cover image for Vlad King...I don’t like it, at all but fuck it, I’ll update this one and the rest too at some point when it isn’t 2:30am hahahaha

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

 You stared at the bouquet of luscious red tulips as you placed them in a conveniently empty vase, still unsure as to why you had nearly trodden on them when you went to collect your mail. There had been no knock on your door, if there had been then you could have found out who was leaving you flowers every few days; the only clue you had that the flowers were truly meant for you, was the little white note attached to them with your name written out in a strangely bright red ink.

 “Wonder if I should call Nemuri…tell her that I’ve got more flowers?” You mumbled out the question to yourself quietly, flipping over the note that came with the flowers; all the other notes had your name and nothing else. However, this time the note had more writing messily scribbled out on the back; an address, accompanied by a phone number. Two things that you should throw away.

 Before you could think on your decision too much, your phone began to sound off with an almost hideous tune that Nemuri had insisted you set for her number; so that you would recognise her calls and not ignore them. A deviously successful tactic on her part, given that you hated to let the tune drag on for longer than you had to.

 “You know, I was just thinking about calling you” You didn’t bother greeting her as you answered the phone, running your fingertips over the note before setting it down to instead admire the brilliance of the tulips you had been gifted with.

   “Oh, so I was right. You did get more flowers today! What are they?”

   You rolled your eyes at her remark, surprised that you hadn’t been expecting her call; Nemuri always said you needed a love life. It should have been obvious to you that she would cling onto any new hope that might show up; which is exactly what Nemuri called your flower dilemma.

 “Don’t make me hang up on you, especially when I have something to tell you” Your warning seemed to sink in fairly quickly, given the quickly uttered apology, the only prompt you needed from the eager woman on the other side of the phone call. Her interest in your love life would be worrying if it weren’t for the fact that she had heard your drunken ramblings about being interested in such things.

 “Okay, so the notes are usually blank right? Except for my name? Well this time…there’s an address and a phone number” You pulled your phone away from your ear, wincing slightly when your friend’s screech of excitement came through the line, nearly deafening you.

   “So, what are you going to do? You’re going to call right?”

   You pursed your lips, looking back towards the tulips hesitantly, fingers tapping against the soft petals to distract yourself from the decision you knew you would have to make eventually; to accept the clear invitation at finding out who your mystery admirer was, or to throw the note away and go about your life as if it had never happened.

 “I…don’t know” The words felt foreign to your tongue, an answer you most certainly weren’t satisfied with and yet, it was the only one you had for the moment. It was something that needed more thought than you had been able to give.

   “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? (Name), you’ve been going insane trying to work out who’s been sending you these flowers and this is your opportunity!”

   “Well, yeah, I know that Nemuri. But what if it’s just some trick and…and I get kidnapped or something?” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment when Nemuri’s laughter filled your ears, having gained a little too much entertainment from the suggestion that someone would want to kidnap you. It was almost insulting, except that even you had to admit how farfetched it sounded.

   “Listen, (Name), I’m not saying just rock up to the address. All I’m telling you to do, is give the number a call…see where it goes from there? You never know, could be a fun night involved for you!”

   You let out a noise of protest, quickly withdrawing your hand from the beautiful flowers, despite the fact that your teasing friend couldn’t see you; thrown by the boldness of her joke considering the circumstances.

 “Nemuri, that isn’t funny!” You wished that your voice hadn’t sounded so high-pitched while you scolded the still giggling woman, entirely unimpressed with how the phone call had gone and debating if it would be worth her complaints later if you were to hang up on her now.

   “Oh, alright. Listen, I have to go, I only called to see if you got any flowers from your secret admirer. Try not to chicken out (Name)!”

    ~  ~  ~

    “Um…hi? I’m looking for someone named…Sekijiro?” You stared up at the man that had moved to stop you walking into the building further, his deep frown somehow making you even more nervous than you already were; which, at this point, was what you thought to be an impossibility.

 “Name?” You opened your mouth to answer the terrifying man’s one-word question, closing it when someone else rushed over to the two of you and with a few whispered words exchanged; you found yourself following after the person that had interrupted what felt like an interrogation.

 “Sorry about that miss…(Name), was it? The boss was a little busy so not everyone was given the memo to be expecting your visit today” The explanation was almost as rushed as your pace, stopping only when you reached a large door with a sign that clearly stated not to disturb whoever was in there.

 “Ah, it’s fine. Really. Should you be knocking on that door? It says…not to disturb…?” You went quiet when you were flashed a reassuring smile, though any relief the smile offered you went right out the window when the door was opened; a giant of a man greeting the both of you with a stern and particularly unimpressed look on his face.

 “Miss (Name) is here, I thought I’d show her to your office before leaving for the day” With an explanation shorter than the one you had been given, the person that guided you to the room was gone; leaving you alone with the giant that now stood to the side, an arm extended in a motion for you to enter the strangely cosy looking office.

 “So…you’re Sekijiro?” You spoke softly, hesitant as you wandered into the room, taking particular note of the quiet click that you assumed signalled the lock on the door; meaning that you were effectively trapped alone with a man you didn’t officially know.

 “I wasn’t expecting you to actually show up…alone no less” He moved past you as he spoke, his voice surprisingly soothing to the nerves that currently wreaked havoc on your body and mind; exactly as he had sounded on the phone. The entire reason you had agreed to meet in the first place, unfortunately, it wasn’t until now that you realised you had forgotten to send Nemuri a message about your location.

 “I said I would come see you” You blinked in surprise when he turned back towards you, offering you a glass of what appeared to be water; another in his other hand, though that one he was already drinking from.

 “I have bottled water in here as well, if you’d prefer that instead” He nodded his head towards the small mini-fridge that you had failed to notice, the silent implications of being unable to trust him at this stage running around in your mind as you took the glass from him; probably not your best move of the day. Yet certainly not your worst.

 “Thank you” You sipped at the water quietly, eager to distract yourself from the awkward silence that settled over the both of you; there didn’t seem to be a great deal to speak about with a man that terrified you to the point where you could barely think clearly.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to keep you hear for our first meeting…but something has come up and I can’t leave for a few hours. I can have one of my men drive you home if you want to try this again another time?” You peeked over at Sekijiro curiously, tilting your head to the side while he watched you silently, waiting for your answer to a question he seemed to be reluctant to ask; the awkward consideration surprisingly sweet.

 “I don’t mind spending some time here for a little while…but, what do you mean? One of your men? What sort of place is this? The guy from earlier called you boss too…” You were hesitant to ask, nothing about the building screamed official legal business to you; which meant that it was probably a case of questions better left unasked.

   “The easiest way to explain it would be to say that this is my main place of business. I’m the leader of this gang.”

   You stared at him for a moment, your mouth falling open while your brain struggled to process the new information; trying desperately to work out how you had gotten yourself into such a mess.

 “Are you sure you don’t want to go home? You can stay if you want…but given the look on your face…” He trailed off, motioning to your shocked expression and causing you to shake your head quickly, forcing every ounce of surprise off of your features; even though he had just called himself a mafia boss, the man hadn’t technically harmed you despite clearly having the means to. You might as well stay, see where things went.

 “No, no…it’s…I’m sorry, this is a bit surprising…but I would like to stay. Given that I’m free to leave, if I get the urge to?” He nodded slowly to your awkwardly asked question, motioning towards a comfortable looking couch before moving to sit at the solid looking desk in the room; one that looked fun to occupy, if you hadn’t just met the man.

 “As I said, I can have one of my men take you home any time you’d like. The same applies for if you need anything, all you need to do is ask and I’ll arrange it.” His words had you nodding in agreement, happy that things seemed to be going well so far, despite the unexpected developments that had already taken place.

 “…I would like a proper date, another time I mean. Since this isn’t exactly the romantic night out you offered over the phone” You gave a small, nervous smile with your attempt at a joke, getting yourself comfortable on the couch that he had motioned to; nearly missing the slight grin that tugged at his lips.

   “Of course, I would love to take you out properly next time, (Name).”

[ampleappleamble]

Honestly, it wasn’t as if Axa didn’t know how farfetched her whole story sounded, especially after listening to herself recount it aloud to a stranger. She was also self-aware enough to recognize that she and her companions probably came off as... eccentric, at best. So in the end, she couldn’t really blame the dwarf for being wary of her and her party– anyone would be– even though they had told her nothing but the truth.

It would certainly be a lot easier to convince the huntress of her sincerity, though, if the truth could stop being so gods damned bizarre as of late.

Axa couldn't help but feel like the more of her story she told, the more a liar she made herself look, and the older woman's guarded body language and skeptical expression weren't very encouraging in that regard. She was a mother, she'd told Axa at the camp that evening– five times over, although only three of her children lived yet– and Axa could tell she was a seasoned veteran of the child-rearing arts. She'd borne that accusatory, incredulous glare from her own mother ten thousand times, and it hadn't made any difference to her whether Axa was telling the truth or not either.

–Serpent's Wings, I don't want to hear it anymore! He's not some poor stray tom you rescued from the gutter! He's not even a proper priest, Axa; he's a strange, sick con man who was lucky enough to find a softhearted, foolish girl to–

She winced at the memory. Yes, thanks, Mama. Helpful as always.

Then there were all the things she wasn't telling anyone about yet, let alone this woman she'd just met. She wasn't concealing anything especially damning, just perfectly mundane, boring, everyday intensely painful and private experiences and memories, including some that might explain a few things about her current circumstances. But as usual, every time she was presented with an opportunity to clear the air, Axa just... clammed up instead. The Ordhjóma thing, for instance, had come up again in an otherwise pleasant dinnertime chat about the southern lights over Nasitaaq when Axa had accidentally brought up the time she had seen them in the White that Wends. She knew there was nothing inherently shady about it, but even just politely declining to elaborate on her time in the Land or to speak any Ordhjóma for her curious audience made her feel nervous and guilty, as though she were withholding evidence instead of simply keeping a private matter private. Mercifully, everyone seemed to let it go easily enough, but Axa strongly suspected Sagani still held it against her, doubtless as "proof" of her untrustworthy nature.

And if it wasn't what she said or didn't say making her appear suspect, it was the series of ludicrous coincidences that now passed for her everyday life. According to the Lady of Caed Nua's trusted local guide (the smoke-addled fool who'd nearly gotten his fingers bitten off by Sagani's fox), the cliffs from her vision of Persoq just so happened to be a few hours west of Defiance Bay. How convenient, then, that she and her crew were headed that way anyway, and how generous of them to offer Sagani a place in their traveling party. It was all the truth, of course, and intended in the spirit of benevolence– but all the same, it sounded like such an obvious contrivance that Axa had almost not wanted to say anything at all, to save them both the embarrassment.

But when the dwarf had accepted, had shrugged and sighed and told her to "lead the way," Axa had had to actively stop herself from shooting back, "Are you sure?" Even though it was perfectly understandable, Sagani's obvious reticence to trust her (especially while she was actively electing to travel with her anyway) still stung, and it frustrated Axa that she couldn't quite figure out how to not let it make things awkward during their long hike to the city. Each of the menfolk had approached her on his own at one time or another and inquired discreetly after her health and mood, each noting how unusually untalkative she was, and each time she found herself too stubborn to admit why. They were damn near crossing the bridge into the city proper by the time the orlan was finally tired of torturing herself about it, and she impulsively squeezed her left eye shut–

–Sometimes, with some kith, there just ain't nothin' for it but to just keep on livin' your truth, Lil' Blossom. Just let 'em be, and you just go on bein' true t' yourself. They’ll come 'round, with time... or they won't, 'n you cut 'em loose. But either way you're better off than y'were before, worryin' yourself sick about what some other blowhards think–

Wael had answered the spontaneous prayer with a promptness that had startled her almost as much as the answer itself. She hadn't thought about her father in some time, but the Lord of Mysteries had reached down into her mind and plucked out exactly the right memory for the situation. It was something he'd told her back when she was a little girl tormented or ignored by peers far crueler than the kith she was keeping company with now, and she had come to him for advice not on revenge, but on how to get them to like her. At the time, Axa had balked at essentially being told that sometimes there was nothing one could do about another's unfair opinions of them. But in time, she came to see the wisdom in his words, and she found that the less she tried to please others and the more she focused on cultivating her own identity and interests, the happier she was, in the end.

Good advice, Papa. ...Thank you, Eyeless One.

"Hey. ...You feelin' alright?" This time, it was Sagani herself who drew up next to the orlan, concern plain on her motherly face. Itumaak's nose brushed Axa's fingertips on her other side, the fox giving her a cursory sniff before returning to his mistress. "You've been pretty quiet these last few hours. Nervous, now that we've made it to the big city?" She nodded her head in the direction of the city gates, no more than a stone's throw away now.

Axa wondered, looking at Sagani's kind smile and knitted brow, how she ever could have thought the older woman had borne her any ill will. "Not really, no. I grew up in the second-largest city in the Plains, so tall buildings and busy streets don't faze me much. I've just been... lost in my head, I guess." She smiled back briefly before tilting her head just so, to obscure her face with her burgundy curls. Just in case.

"You're not still hung up on that priest we met on the road, are you?" Kana closed the distance between himself and the two women in a few broad steps, sensing that the tension in the group was dissipating now, positively famished for a good chat. "In truth, I still am, a bit. I certainly hope we don't meet any more of his kind beyond these gates!"

"Still feel like we kinda overdid it there," Edér piped up, picking at the bandaging on his fox-bitten fingers. "Sure, he was a weird, rude prick, but did we really have to beat 'im up?"

"He called Axa a vicious, unspeakable slur, Edér," Aloth huffed, clutching his grimoire close to his chest as the group passed over the long bridge into town. "Honestly, he's rather lucky he got away with his life."

Axa's first impulse was to glare at them in an attempt to silence their loose tongues, but instead she forced herself to look at Sagani's eyes, challenging her. Challenging herself. And in response, Sagani cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, clapped Axa gently on the back between her shoulders. "Now that sounds like a good story. Remind me never to get on your bad side."

...Very good advice, indeed, Axa thought, smiling back at the dwarf, as the party approached the gates of Defiance Bay.

[astrawords]

a symbol to remind you that there’s more to see

Characters: Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian (& Co) Rating: T Warnings/Tags: No Major Warnings, Canon-Compliant(ish), Post-Canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angst, Angst With Happy Ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation, Jin Ling has too many uncles, Jin Ling deserves a hug, Jin Ling will save us all, excessive verbosity by yours truly

Summary: For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world.

Or: what if Jin Ling had received his first-month birthday gift.

Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to MXTX and The Untamed. Set in CQL!verse. Before anyone asks, yes, I have read the novel.

Notes: HELLO! It has been a really long time since I ventured into full-on fic writing. This makes me nervous to post (I am @amedetoiles posting on my writing blog btw), but I was rambling to @winepresswrath​ about this and so of course I wrote it instead of doing productive adult things. Only this really got away from me. It was only supposed to be a short “what if” ficlet about Jin Ling, but Yunmengbros and their loud ass feelings got in the way, and it ended up being almost 10K D: Also, for @goblinish who was sad about jzasshole breaking wwx’s gift.

Basically, everything at Qiongqi Path still happened, but Wei Wuxian got the bracelet back before Jin Zixun crushed it (somehow), and it was delivered to Jiang Yanli shortly after the Wens surrendered (also somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ PLOT? WHAT IS PLOT?). Not beta’d. We gonna die like wwx here.

[Read on AO3]

---

1.

For as long as Jin Ling can remember, he has been immune to the majority of supernatural hauntings that plague the cultivation world. Any spirit or ghoul he has ever encountered would promptly redirect itself towards another target as if he were surrounded by an invisible barrier.

The first time it happens, he’s eight-years-old and accompanying his jiujiu to watch the YunmengJiang disciples get rid of a water ghost. In the midst of a coordinated luring, the water ghost had shot up right in front of him. Frantic, his uncle had thrown his arm out to shield him, only for the water ghost to hover above Jin Ling’s head with apparent confusion before diving back underneath the murky waters.

To this day, he still hasn’t forgotten the look on his uncle’s face.

(He tries to bring it up to his jiujiu only once, but Jiang Cheng had stared at him with a terrifying mix of fury and anguish that Jin Ling quickly learns to never mention it again, the same way he stops bringing up his mother.)

After a while, Jin Ling stops questioning it. Even if it’s a little strange, he can’t complain when it makes night hunting significantly more advantageous for him.

Of course, this doesn’t stop Jin Chan and his lackeys from mocking him relentlessly about it like they do with everything else. Their taunting comments that even the lowest of beings don’t want anything to do with him cut deeper than he pretends otherwise, adding to all the other still-healing wounds riddled across his chest. He punches Jin Chan partly in retaliation, but mostly because the throbbing in his hands makes him forget about the ache. At least for a while.

Silently, Jin Ling likes to think that maybe his parents are protecting him from beyond the grave, that perhaps their spirits are shielding him somehow, even if it’s a little farfetched. His memories of them are a gentle blur of gold and violet hues. On lonelier nights, they provide him with warmth when everything else is cold.

He carries his father’s sword with him like an anchor to that brief moment in his life when his family had been whole. The YunmengJiang bells are tied to his waist, marking him uniquely as an heir to two major sects. On his right wrist is his most treasured possession of all (though he will deny it if anybody asks)–the beaded bracelet his mother had left for him.

It was handcrafted. He knows from the hours and hours he’s spent tracing the uneven edges to the miniature nine-petaled lotus that sits at the knot and the intricately carved designs on the other beads. He isn’t sure who made it for him. From the little that he’s heard of her, his mother hadn’t been skilled at craftsmanship, and he has never been able to find anything similar in the markets. It certainly doesn’t match the golden opulence of LanlingJin to think that his parents had had it custom-made from a Lanling artisan.

Jiang Cheng skirts around the question whenever Jin Ling brings it up to him, but ever since that day on the lake, he’s caught his uncle gazing at it with eyes reflecting a confusing storm of unreadable emotions. Jin Ling tries his best to keep the bracelet hidden underneath his sleeve as often as he can, but he never takes it off, cherishing it like a lifeline–a symbol of a time when he’d been adored by the mother and father he never got to meet.

He tells himself it’s enough. (Sometimes he even believes it.)

As Jin Ling grows older and starts participating in more night hunts, he begins to realize that his immunity isn’t absolute. The fiercer the spirit, the more powerful the demon, the less likely his natural defense seems to hold. He still fares far better than the other disciples in his class. Partly because it holds up long enough for him to gather his bearings, and partly because his uncle is never too far behind, looming tall and threatening like the purple thunderstorms that roll through the Yunmeng skies during the summer.

It’s more comforting than he’ll ever admit, even if Jin Ling has a habit of running off without telling him. He wants to prove to his uncle that he’s strong and skilled enough to not need saving (and maybe a little bit to prove everyone else wrong, too).

But sitting in a room now trapped with a lunatic in a mask, even he has to admit that breaking into a haunted shrine was perhaps not the brightest idea he’s ever had. Being saved by Mo Xuanyu (if this man even is Mo Xuanyu–he certainly doesn’t act like the disgraced disciple he remembers) also hadn’t been on the list of things he’s ever wanted to experience.

If Jin Ling dies here, then his uncle is going to bring him back to life for the sole purpose of breaking his legs for not listening. (He might even admit to deserving it this once.)

Shuffling backwards on the bed, Jin Ling sputters angrily to hide the anxiety shooting up his spine as he frantically looks for an escape route. “You–! What were you taking off my clothes for? Where’s my sword? Where’s my dog?”

“Hey,” not-Mo Xuanyu says indignantly with his hands on his hips. “I just spent a lot of effort getting you out of the wall. You don’t know how to say thank you?”

Finding Suihua at his side, Jin Ling grabs it and raises it threateningly. “If it wasn’t for that, you would already be dead!”

“Alright, alright,” the man says, stepping back with a nervous laugh and raising his hands. “Listen. One death is enough for me. Be good. Put the sword down, okay?”

Jin Ling glares at him suspiciously but still lowers Suihua slowly to his lap. His sleeve rides up in the process, and not-Mo Xuanyu’s eyes travel to the bracelet on his wrist. The man freezes with a sharp intake of breath. “Jin Ling,” he whispers. “That bracelet…”

Jin Ling quickly covers it with his hand. “My mother left me this,” he snaps. “Don’t touch it!”

But the man doesn’t move, staring at Jin Ling with wide shocked eyes that he can see even through the mask. “Your… mother…?” he repeats, sounding strangled and winded, like he’s been knocked over.

“What’s it to you? It’s none of your business!” Jin Ling tells him hotly. Not-Mo Xuanyu doesn’t seem to hear him, standing so still that Jin Ling thinks he may as well have been stone if not for the way his hands were gripping at the skirts of his robes. Seeing the opportunity, he quickly puts on his boots and bolts from the room, ignoring the delayed shouts coming from behind him as he speeds away in search of his jiujiu and Fairy.

Predictably, Jiang Cheng scolds him loudly enough to echo through the dark empty streets for running off on his own again once Jin Ling finally makes his way back to the holding spot where the YunmengJiang entourage were waiting. Unpredictably, however, his uncle’s tirade gets interrupted by a now far-too familiar yelping as not-Mo Xuanyu falls out from an alcove with a string of exceedingly embarrassing whimpers, cowering into the ground as Fairy comes trotting along after him.

On the one hand, it all goes about the same as all the other demonic cultivators Jin Ling has watched his uncle hunt down over the years in search of Wei Wuxian’s returning soul, and yet, oddly, on the other hand, it’s not the same at all.

For one, he’s never seen that look cross his uncle’s face before when not-Mo Xuanyu finally removes his mask. For another, he’s never seen a cultivator unlucky enough to catch his uncle’s ire look back with such defiance.

Maybe that’s what pushes Jin Ling to lie to his uncle about seeing the Ghost General outside the village. That, and the man had saved him after all. No one besides his two uncles have ever bothered to do anything for Jin Ling, let alone dig him out of a cursed trap he unwittingly fell into on his own. (No one’s ever apologized to him either, and he’s left stumbling between embarrassment at being caught off guard and his practiced arrogance, completely unsure how to navigate around the strange almost proud smile on the man’s face that reminds him so much of his jiujiu’s rare satisfied grin.)

“That bracelet,” not-Mo Xuanyu says slowly. Jin Ling steps back, his hand automatically coming up to cover his wrist as he stares back with a narrowed look. The man rolls his eyes. “Ai-ya, what’s that look for? I’m not going to steal it, brat. I was just… wondering if you knew who made it.”

Jin Ling frowned. “I already told you, my mother gave it to me,” he says testily, still suspicious. “What’s it to you?”

“Ah, nothing, nothing,” the man says with a light innocent tone. “I just wanted to know where one might be able to find a bracelet like that, is all.”

Jin Ling scoffs, crossing his arms. “It’s an original. You won’t be able to find it anywhere.” Even though he’s never been entirely sure of that fact, there is still an unmistakable pride that colors his words as he says them.

“Hm,” not-Mo Xuanyu nods thoughtfully, lips quirking. After a beat of silence, the man says softly, “She must have loved you very much, Jin Ling. To want to protect you even after she was gone.”

Jin Ling flushes a bright red, taken aback by the bold words. Aside from the stories he’s heard from the nursemaids at Koi Tower who cared for him and what little he could get out of his jiujiu, no one has ever willingly spoken to him about his parents. And certainly no one, not even his uncle, has ever so matter-of-factly stated that his mother had loved him to his face. To think that this not-Mo Xuanyu, of all people, would be the first is ridiculously absurd, to say the least, even as his heart does something funny in his chest.

Belatedly, his mind catches up to the second half of what the man had said, and his head shoots up. “Protect me?” Jin Ling asks quickly.

Not-Mo Xuanyu hums again, turning away from Jin Ling suddenly. His voice sounds strangely thick when he says, “Of course. Why else would she leave you with spirit-repelling beads?”

Jin Ling starts in surprise. “Spirit-repelling?” he whispers as he lifts his wrist in front of him. “How– how do you know?”

The same smile from before was on the man’s face again as he looks at Jin Ling with an expression that feels strikingly familiar. “I can feel the spiritual energy coming off of them,” he says. “You’ll see. As your cultivation gets stronger.”

Jin Ling’s mouth forms a small oh but the sound barely leaves him as he stares intently at his bracelet as if seeing it for the first time. A burst of warmth floods into his chest, spreading all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes. His mother, protecting him from beyond the grave, like he’s always hoped, has always dreamed. His head spins, feeling off balanced with his sixteen years long question suddenly answered by a man who shouldn’t have known anything at all, and yet…

A hand comes down on his shoulder, and he looks up, eyes wide. Not-Mo Xuanyu is smiling gently, his gaze soft. “She would be happy to see you doing so well.”

A lump forms in Jin Ling’s throat as his eyes burn, and he quickly shrugs off the man’s hand before he does something stupid like cry. “Who are you to say that to me?” he demands hotly, the tips of his ears going red from embarrassment. He quickly shoves away the revelation in favor of shouting at the elder for putting his brazenness.

In the days following, he spends an inordinate amount of time fiddling with the bracelet in a way he hasn’t felt the need to since he was thirteen, trying to concentrate on his qi to see if he could visualize the spiritual energy. After far too many hours, he is only able to catch the faintest trace of it, a crimson glow that fades quickly from his focus, but he feels so victorious as if he’s crafted the beads himself with his own bare hands. Perhaps that not-Mo Xuanyu is useful for something after all. He shakes his head, pushing all thoughts of that outrageous man from his mind.

But even as he tries, he can’t quite seem to forget how not-Mo Xuanyu had gazed at him with the same look in his eyes that his jiujiu has carried for all sixteen years of Jin Ling’s life.

2.

Life becomes an unexpected whirlwind of chaos.

Jin Ling decides as he’s sitting tied to a rock on a poisonous mountain, being forced to listen to Jin Chan’s irritating complaining that, like everything else in his life, it is entirely Wei Wuxian’s fault.

Wei Wuxian, who not only murdered his father and got his mother killed, had then showed up at Dafan Mountain pretending to be that crazy Mo Xuanyu, setting his entire life into a downward spiral of unending problems, including but not limited to: his uncle’s ire, getting silenced by Hanguang-jun, creepy dead cats, fierce corpses, almost-poisoning, a sociopath and his murderous rogue cultivator-turned-corpse, and now kidnapping.

(The traitorous part of Jin Ling’s mind, probably responsible for the sharp burn of guilt in his stomach ever since Wei Wuxian had left Koi Tower bleeding from his sword, reminds him that the man has also guided him, protected him, and saved his life again and again. He had squeezed Jin Ling’s shoulders, looked at him with a proud smile, and told him his mother had loved him.)

Jin Ling gets into an argument with Jin Chan just to stop the storm of thoughts threatening to consume him. He isn’t entirely surprised when they’re interrupted by the same man who had set his life aflame, only for him to come save them all yet again.

He watches Wei Wuxian stand in front of a mob of cultivators all clamoring for his death with the same cool defiance Jin Ling has come to recognize, listens to his not-uncle expertly and systematically reveal Sect Leader Su’s secret treachery, and feels a confusing mix of delight and pride. When Wei Wuxian then throws himself into the line of fire as bait, exactly like he had in Yi City when he had protected them all from Xue Yang, it isn’t anger that fills Jin Ling but instead concern, worry–a fear that his… that Wei Wuxian might not make it out alive. He does, and Jin Ling doesn’t know what to do with the relief that floods through him.

The next evening Jin Ling leaves Lotus Pier without permission. Though he hasn’t seen his uncle all day, word of his uncle’s strange behavior has spread like wildfire through the YunmengJiang disciples. He tells himself that he’s sneaking out because he doesn’t want to get caught in his uncle’s temper and not at all because he maybe wants to run into someone who had left without even saying goodbye to him.

With the way everything has been tracking lately, it really shouldn’t have surprised him that he winds up where he is.

But it does, and he’s left trapped in a temple with two of the most powerful cultivators in the world now defenseless, and the man who has saved him time and time again unable to intervene, all while his own uncle orchestrates the whole thing without remorse.

He’s never been very good at following orders, so Jin Ling tries to escape as they’re pushed into the temple (his xiao-shushu can’t possibly be serious about killing Fairy, right?). He’s grabbed almost immediately by Su She. He struggles, yelling, and forcibly yanks his arm out of the other man’s grip, but his bracelet comes off his wrist as he pulls himself away. He watches, eyes going wide with horror as the bracelet soars into the air and lands on the ground, the impact scattering the beads all across the open courtyard, disappearing into the drenching downpour of rain.

It’s like a blade straight through his heart, and he stares, shock still, at his mother’s broken bracelet.

His vision is blurring with tears before he even realizes. “You!” Jin Ling screams angrily. Suihua is unsheathed and in his hands, and he swings it viciously at Su She. He’s deflected easily, and then freezes, feeling the points of several swords now at his throat.

“Su-zongzhu!” Wei Wuxian shouts, darting forward, but is stopped by two Jin disciples who grab ahold of his arms. “Get away from him!”

Su She sneers. “Yiling laozu,” he drawls disdainfully. “You’re not in the position to be giving orders.”

Something extraordinarily murderous flashes through Wei Wuxian’s eyes. For a brief moment, they almost seem to glow red with rage. “Su She, I am warning you, do not go too far,” he growls icily. Jin Ling gulps, shivering despite himself, and knows suddenly why his jiujiu and Wei Wuxian are brothers.

“Minshan,” Jin Guangyao interrupts calmly from the steps. Jin Ling swallows tightly as the swords are lowered, looking up at the man who has helped raise him, now staring at him with none of the warmth or concern he has grown up knowing, and feels hollow.

They’re pushed into the temple, and Jin Ling lowers himself onto the stone floor, Suihua cradled in his lap like a protective blanket. There are grey eyes across from him watching, pinched with worry, but Jin Ling doesn’t notice as he shakes with fury and anguish.

His wrist has never felt so bare.

3.

Jin Ling sits on a pillar and stares morosely at the beads he’s gathered in his hands. Some of them are cracked, and the sight sends more pain lancing through his chest, sharper than any of the barbs anyone has ever thrown at him. The bitter angry tears finally spill down his cheeks.

There are more important things that he should be focusing on, like the millions of earth-shattering truths that have thrusted themselves upon his reality in the past few hours, but all he can see is the broken remains of his mother’s bracelet resting in his trembling hands.

“Jin Ling!”

He looks up and only barely catches sight of the black robes and red hair ribbon before he’s suddenly engulfed into a bone-crushing hug. Wei Wuxian (his uncle?) scolds him for being so reckless, an unbearable thread of frantic concern in his voice, and Jin Ling feels his face heat up. Even Jin Guangyao (resolutely, he doesn’t think past the name), the softer of his two uncles, had never been so casual and open with his care.

Wei Wuxian pulls back but doesn’t release him, holding him by the shoulders and frowning at him with an earnest worry that makes his face color even more. “A-Ling, promise me you won’t ever do something so stupid like that again.”

Jin Ling flounders, struggling to keep himself together in the face of this man’s unending onslaught of affection, but still can’t help but squawk indignantly. “You can’t scold me!” he throws back, a petulant frown forming on his lips. He pushes himself free, holding the beads close to his chest. “Go away. You’re going to break them even more!”

Wei Wuxian blinks down at Jin Ling’s hands, and then back to Jin Ling’s face, at his quivering lips, at the stubborn collection of tears in the corner of his eyes, and he softens.

“Silly boy,” Wei Wuxian admonishes quietly as he kneels down in front of Jin Ling. “What are you crying for?”

“I’m not crying!” Jin Ling retorts even as he wipes furiously at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Give them here,” Wei Wuxian says and takes all the beads into his hands. Jin Ling makes a sharp noise of distress, but Wei Wuxian shakes his head, “I’m not going to break them, A-Ling.” Reaching into his robes, he produces a new cord from his qiankun pouch, and Jin Ling’s eyes widen in surprise.

He watches Wei Wuxian thread each bead through the cord with nimble fingers, repairing the cracked ones with expertly drawn talismans that glow a very familiar crimson, and he knows.

“There,” Wei Wuxian says as he finishes tying the final knot and seals his work with another complicated sigil. With gentle hands, he slips the bracelet back onto Jin Ling’s right wrist and glances up at him with a soft smile. “See? Good as new.”

Jin Ling doesn’t move. There is a mad rushing sound in his ears. His heart is in his mouth. His vision is blurring.

Wei Wuxian reaches up, and he feels a thumb on his cheek, brushing away the stray tears that are falling. His uncle’s smile is immeasurably fond, tender, and also something achingly familiar that wrenches a sixteen-year old memory out of Jin Ling’s howling heart, making him think words like love and warmth and safe.

Across the courtyard, Jiang Cheng is watching them, his face reflecting that unreadable chaos Jin Ling has come to know so well (and has just realized why). Wei Wuxian looks over, too, but no words pass between the two brothers. Maybe there are no more words left to say. Maybe enough words are still lying on the ashy floors of the destroyed temple behind them. (Maybe they are all resting on Jin Ling’s wrist like they have for sixteen years.)

In the span of a few weeks, everything that Jin Ling has grown up knowing and believing has crumbled under his feet. He has come closer to death than he’s ever been before. His neck stings from betrayal. His head throbs from where he hit it falling onto the stone floor. His hands are still trembling.

He’s lost an uncle.

But somehow, kneeling in front of him, he’s gained another, one who’s been with him all along, who’s been protecting him for his entire life.

4.

Seven months into Jin Ling’s term as the new LanlingJin sect leader, more than the sycophantic elders trying to curry his favor where before they had only looked at him with disdain, more than all the smaller clans trying to take advantage of his age and inexperience, and more than the overwhelming task of having to clean up after Jin Guangyao’s political mess (or the frighteningly painful shadows of the man he still sees everywhere at Koi Tower), it’s his two maternal uncles who are driving him slowly toward insanity the most.

“We could lock them up together until they finally talk,” Ouyang Zizhen suggests, after Jin Ling finishes regaling his friends over dinner with a tale of how a perfectly well-planned unassuming meal with both his uncles at Koi Tower had turned into an epic debacle. Even this morning, the servants were still trying to scrub away the damage done to his private dining hall.

“Do you want to die?” Lan Jingyi says through a mouthful of rice, still the most un-Lan disciple he’s ever met wearing the cloud-patterned forehead ribbon. “Because Jiang-zongzhu will definitely kill us.” He then adds, after a beat, “After he kills Wei-qianbei.”

Jin Ling groans and lets his forehead fall onto the table with a thunk. “Not. Helping.”

Lan Sizhui pats him on his arm. “Jin Ling,” he says, “it’s not your responsibility to make sure Wei-qianbei and Jiang-zongzhu get along.”

He’s right. Jin Ling knows he’s right, and not because Sizhui is usually right. Neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng has ever asked him to embark on this solely self-decided journey to fix their estranged relationship. Both of them seem frustratingly content with the current status quo, only really maintaining some level of stilted cordiality wherever Jin Ling is concerned.

But he has gotten exceptionally tired of having to juggle around both of them. Neither of his uncles ever visit him at the same time, so he feels annoyingly pulled in two different directions and just ends up feeling guilty whenever he chooses one over the other. Never mind that after all these years, he finally understands a little of his uncle’s complicated feelings for his once sworn brother and the bracelet he had left for Jin Ling. Or the fact that, according to the YunmengJiang disciples, his jiujiu has gone from raging at people who dare speak Wei Wuxian’s name to snapping at anyone who thinks they can speak ill without impunity. And yet, the man still can’t have a civil conversation with Uncle Wei without it resulting in a shouting match.

Looking at them, Jin Ling feels a bone-deep longing to set right to what little family he has left. (He also wants equally as much to throttle both of their heads against the wall.)

“Ugh,” he groans, sitting back up and sliding his bowl of rice towards him. “Fine. But if they do try to kill each other tonight, you all better help me.”

The plan for their night hunt had started out so simple–a brief patrol through the eastern forests of Yunmeng to test out Jin Ling’s bracelet. Wei Wuxian has spent the better part of the past several weeks adding adjustments to it, struck by a burst of creative inspiration and spurred on by the necessity to keep Jin Ling safe as he settles into his role as the face of a sect that’s still awashed with scandal and many people looking at him to fail.

The concern thrums a warmth through Jin Ling’s chest that’s different than what he feels with his jiujiu. He has always been able to count on Jiang Cheng’s thunderous temper to shield him from anyone and anything that might harm him. Wei Wuxian, too, is unquestioningly overprotective and easily as exasperating as Jiang Cheng, but there’s also something sweeter, something softer, in the way he showers Jin Ling with constant teasing affection. He still isn’t used to it, but he can’t say he really minds that this is his family now.

He had briefly entertained the hope that he might be able to enjoy what would be an easy night hunt with his friends without his jiujiu interfering. But for some unknown reason, Jiang Cheng has been attaching himself to every night hunt Jin Ling has gone on where Wei Wuxian was supervising, regardless of how many times Jin Ling has tried to tell him he doesn’t need the extra supervision. This time is no different. (“Just because Wei Wuxian doesn’t have any sense of respect doesn’t mean you can just forget about rules and propriety, brat! Is this how a sect leader acts?!” “Jiujiu.”)

Both Jingyi and Zizhen stare at him with wary looks before going back to scarfing down their meals as if he hadn’t spoken. Sizhui smiles at him reassuringly though, so at least Jin Ling will have him as support tonight even if the other two abandon him like cowards.

Unsurprisingly, it all turns into an absolute disaster.

Jin Ling finds himself saddled with both his uncles right from the start after a suggestion to split the group off with one elder each is viciously slammed down by Jiang Cheng refusing to let Jin Ling go with Wei Wuxian.

“I am not letting you experiment on my nephew alone!” Jiang Cheng had snarled.

An extremely irritated look had flashed across Wei Wuxian’s face, and all the juniors had collectively held their breaths (the cold rage Wei Wuxian had unleashed onto Sect Leader Yao two months ago when the man had willfully omitted several important facts in his report to the Chief Cultivator regarding a haunting along the northern border of Meishan, namely that a collecting mass of resentful energy had risen to such severely threatening levels so as to cause a number of fatalities in the nearby villages, and got Sizhui gravely injured during an initial patrol, was still too fresh on their minds for them to believe that their beloved senior wasn’t just as prone to exploding as Jiang Cheng), but then Wei Wuxian had turned away and nodded with tense acquiescence. By then, Jin Ling already had a headache.

Predictably, Jingyi and Zizhen run away, taking Sizhui with them, who had looked back at him with an apologetic unsurety, leaving Jin Ling woefully resigned to patrolling their designated side alone with his two exasperating uncles.

Thirty minutes later, nobody has said a word, the only thing interrupting the tense silence is the sound of the leaves crunching underneath their feet as they walk. Wei Wuxian twirls his flute. Jiang Cheng glares at the trees. Jin Ling tries not to fling them both off the mountain.

Finally fed up, Jin Ling tries to speed ahead, but before he can even take a few steps, two voices call from behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going, brat?”

“Jin Ling, don’t run off.”

He turns around to see Jiang Cheng scowling at Wei Wuxian, who is suddenly finding the trees exceptionally interesting. “Are you both going to do this all night?” Jin Ling asks with a decidedly unimpressed glare as he crosses his arms. Jiang Cheng turns his scowl onto him, his mouth already opening to shout at him for his tone, but Wei Wuxian interrupts with a bright laugh.

“Hah?” Wei Wuxian says, advancing on him and brandishing his flute. Jin Ling’s lips twitch despite himself. “You’re getting quite mouthy these days, Jin-zongzhu. Just because you’re a sect leader now doesn’t mean I won’t plant you in the ground like a–” He cuts off abruptly, head whipping to his left as the hilarity fades immediately from his face. Jin Ling tenses, already half-unsheathing Suihua, but nothing happens, just the same rustle of trees above their heads as the evening breeze flows through Yunmeng.

“Wei Wuxian?” Jiang Cheng asks tightly, almost like an accusation, his face contorting into a mix of irritation and something a lot like worry.

Wei Wuxian startles as if shaken and turns back towards them. His brows furrow. “It’s… nothing. I thought I…” His shakes his head, looking strangely disoriented. It sends an uneasy feeling shooting up Jin Ling’s spine. He’s never seen Wei Wuxian, so normally brimming with bright humor and nonchalance (other than when he’s raining fire down on Sect Leader Yao’s head), look this rattled.

If possible, the tense line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders stiffens even more. “What’s wrong with you?” he demands sharply.

“Da-jiujiu?” Jin Ling says frowning.

The address seems to pull Wei Wuxian out of his daze, something close to a normal smile spreading across his face. “Ai-ya, why are you both looking like that?” he says as he throws an arm around Jin Ling’s shoulders. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s keep going.”

They fall back into step again, but the furrow doesn’t quite leave Wei Wuxian’s face. Jiang Cheng is pretending not to notice, but Jin Ling sees his uncle sending narrowed glances out from the corner of his eyes. As usual, Wei Wuxian teases Jin Ling until the tension bleeds right out of him in favor of annoyance over his childish uncle. Rolling his eyes, he huffs and speeds ahead again, keeping his ears trained behind him in case they try to kill each other.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wei Wuxian is murmuring, exasperated.

Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You’re the one who froze like a headless chicken back there,” he snaps back irritably, but Jin Ling hears the gruff undercurrent of concern.

Wei Wuxian seems to hear it, too, because he says, in a tone that sounds like he’s rolling his eyes, “Jiang Cheng, stop worrying. I just thought I felt something.”

“I’m not–”

So engrossed is he in the conversation that if it hadn’t been for the sudden and grotesquely familiar smell, Jin Ling would have missed the loud rustling to his left. As it was, he only very narrowly manages to jump back in time before a fierce corpse leaps through the trees and lands exactly where he had been standing.

“Jin Ling!” shout both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

Spinning away, Jin Ling unsheathes Suihua, his heart slamming into his chest as he faces the violent rotting corpse. Only the creature doesn’t move, head cocking in what appears to be confusion, its soulless eyes looking right through Jin Ling, almost as if it can’t see him at all. On his wrist, his bracelet warms.

“It worked,” Wei Wuxian says with a pleased sound as Jiang Cheng rushes forward and tugs Jin Ling behind them. The momentary victory is short-lived, however, as the low growls of an incoming onslaught of fierce corpses reaches all their ears. They flood into the clearing, joining their companion, numbering nearly as many as the wave that had attacked them at Burial Mounds over half a year ago, until they are all at once surrounded.

“You want to try telling me again how I shouldn’t worry?” Jiang Cheng growls through gritted teeth as both Zidian and Sandu flare to life in his hands.

Wei Wuxian somehow still has enough defiance in him to roll his eyes, Chenqing flipping easily in his hands as he raises it to his lips. He turns his head. “Jin Ling, stay back,” he orders.

Jin Ling bristles at the command, but the sharp look Jiang Cheng sends his way makes the retort die quickly in his throat. Scowling, he leaps into a nearby tree, crouching low on a branch and watching as his uncles move to stand back to back. Without Jin Ling’s bracelet as distraction, the fierce corpses seem to refocus on the two cultivators in front of them, snarling in anticipation of satisfying their bloodlust. He has no idea why the hell so many are hanging around what should be a relatively benign forest in Yunmeng. He hopes with an uneasy feeling that his friends are okay.

The first notes of a dizi fill the cold open air, sending an involuntary shiver up Jin Ling’s spine, as Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and pulls a high-pitched luring melody from his blackened bone flute with practiced perfection. A fierce corpse leaps from the crowd. Like a thunderclap, Zidian whips out and smashes it backwards into a tree, scattering loose leaves all around them as the battle begins.

Jin Ling watches with startled amazement.

He has seen Wei Wuxian battle with Hanguang-jun at his side, standing still, completely trusting, while the other man dances, wielding his blade with deadly precision. He has seen Jiang Cheng battle alone, a furious flurry of chaotic movements and the constant manic whip of lightning.

But this– this is different.

Wei Wuxian is a blur of ink, weaving seamlessly around Jiang Cheng’s swift attacks, as the fierce corpses disintegrate under the sharpness of Sandu’s blade, the electricity of Zidian’s purple lightning, and the black blur of spirits being called to battle by the master who commands them. Their movements are graceful and synchronized in a way Jin Ling has never witnessed, as if they are each an arm to one single soul. He’s suddenly and very keenly aware that this must be how they had each learnt to fight. Not alone, but together, standing back to back, as brothers–partners–the Twin Heroes of Yunmeng.

The fierce corpses are rapidly dispersed under their combined efforts, and the surroundings fall again into an eerie silence as both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng survey the area for several more tense minutes.

Jin Ling drops back down to the ground, rushing over to them. His eyes frantically roam over each of them for injuries and frowns unhappily at the gash on Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Jiujiu! You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng says gruffly, placing a reassuring hand on Jin Ling’s shoulder.

“We should find the other kids,” Wei Wuxian says with a worried set to his lips.

Jiang Cheng jerks his head in agreement as he sheathes Sandu. He lets Jin Ling fret over the gash even as he rests a hand on Jin Ling’s head, repeating, “I’m fine, A-Ling.”

Distracted, neither of them senses the movement on their right until it’s too late. With a sudden furious roar, a lone fierce corpse soars from the shadows straight at them. It’s too close, moving too quickly–Jiang Cheng turns, instinctively shielding Jin Ling before he can even register what’s happening, but someone bodily shoves them both aside, sending Jin Ling crashing into the floor. The impact knocks the breath right out of him, and his head spins from the vertigo that follows. Above him, the familiar static whip of Zidian sounds, making the hair on the back of his neck stand, quickly followed by a sickening crunch some distance away, and then–a sharp, strangled gasp.

Jin Ling looks up and freezes.

There is blood sliding down from Wei Wuxian’s mouth as he sways unsteadily on his feet, blinking slowly. His hand comes up to his abdomen where the outer layer of his robes are rapidly darkening around a gaping wound.

Jin Ling’s heart stutters to a stop.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian says, completely nonsensically, looking down at the blood on his hand in confusion. “Oh,” he says again, staggering backwards, his legs giving out underneath him. Jiang Cheng barely manages to catch him, sending them both collapsing to the ground.

Scrambling up, Jin Ling half-walks, half-crawls to his uncles, almost falling on top of them in his haste as a sharp unbridled fear spikes through his chest. No, he thinks desperately. You can’t take him, too.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!” Jiang Cheng is shouting repeatedly. He looks more scared than Jin Ling has ever seen him, his eyes wide, all the color drained from his face as shaking hands come up to apply pressure over the wound. “What were you fucking thinking?!”

“Heh,” Wei Wuxian laughs, absurdly, through a mouthful of blood. “I guess I should make you a bracelet, too, eh Jiang Cheng?”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng roars angrily. His hands, still shaking, start to glow with chaotic bursts of purple qi. “What is a bracelet going to do when you’re such a fucking idiot?!”

Wei Wuxian coughs, wincing. “Hey, it protected Jin Ling, didn’t it?” he says, turning his eyes towards Jin Ling’s quickly watering ones. “Don’t cry, A-Ling. Your da-jiujiu is fine.”

Jin Ling glares at him through furious tears. “You’re not! Don’t lie!”

“I’m not lying,” Wei Wuxian says, reaching over and giving Jin Ling’s trembling hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. Jin Ling clutches it, feeling a heavy despair welling up in him as Wei Wuxian continues to pale despite Jiang Cheng flooding the wound with spiritual energy. Short labored breaths are falling from blue lips, and panic seizes Jin Ling’s chest as his uncle’s eyes start to droop.

“Da-jiujiu!” Jin Ling cries, frantically tugging on his arm.

Jiang Cheng grabs Wei Wuxian’s shoulder and shakes him roughly. “Stay awake!”

Jin Ling doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Wei Wuxian blinks his eyes back open, and it flows out of him like choking relief.

“I’m not going to die, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says tiredly. Jiang Cheng flinches violently, and Wei Wuxian frowns. “A-Cheng…”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng snarls, his voice cracking. He’s trembling and glaring at his hands that are covered in Wei Wuxian’s blood. The purple glow of his spiritual energy illuminates his face, looking angrier and more lost than he had seven months ago, screaming at Wei Wuxian about his golden core. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispers. “What the fuck were you thinking? Going night hunting when all you ever do is attract trouble wherever you go.”

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian protests. “You’re the one who keeps coming along.”

“Of course I come, you idiot!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, a sharp hysterical edge cutting through his every word. “When have I ever not come? When have I ever not fucking come?!”

The silence that follows is deafening. Jin Ling stares at them, wide-eyed, as Jiang Cheng heaves harsh broken breaths, and an unreadable expression passes over Wei Wuxian’s pale face. For a long, long moment, the brothers just stare at one another.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian finally murmurs. His tone is fond as his lips curve into a soft smile. Jiang Cheng’s face contorts with a miserable frown, and Jin Ling feels suddenly like he’s missed something terribly important.

Confusingly, Wei Wuxian reaches up with an unsteady hand and tugs a strand loose from the top of Jiang Cheng’s ever-present half-bun until it falls over his face, lips quirking at his brother’s wide startled gaze. “Haven’t you figured it out by now, you idiot?” he says, his voice slurring.

He brushes gentle fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair, and Jiang Cheng’s face visibly crumples.

“You might be the world’s Sandu Shengshou,” Wei Wuxian’s breath rattles as he speaks, growing ragged, “but you’ll always be my didi.”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall shut, and his hand slides from Jiang Cheng’s hair, landing heavily on the ground. It echoes through Jin Ling’s head, louder than anything he has ever heard. He shakes, cold shock flooding his chest as his once so lively da-jiujiu goes deathly, terrifyingly, still. His uncle lets out a strangled noise, and it feels like a scream.

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Jin Ling has only ever seen his uncle cry once, at Guanyin Temple, because of Wei Wuxian.

The second time is still because of Wei Wuxian.

5.

“We’re all going to die,” Lan Jingyi says after four days, and Wei Wuxian still has not woken up.

Jin Ling is inclined to agree with him and would have said so if he doesn’t still feel a little bit like throwing up. They are sitting by the water in the inner pavilions of Lotus Pier, hovering close to Wei Wuxian’s rooms like they’ve been doing ever since that disastrous night hunt.

Sizhui, Jingyi, and Zizhen had arrived not long after Wei Wuxian had passed out. Somehow, they had managed to get him back to Lotus Pier in one piece. Mostly, Jin Ling thinks, because his jiujiu had been as close to hysterical as he had ever seen him, even during the mess with Jin Guangyao, and had singlehandedly carried Wei Wuxian back on Sandu. Sizhui had immediately sent word to Hanguang-jun, who had arrived before dawn broke, looking windswept and so overcome with worry that even Jin Ling could see it plainly displayed on the Chief Cultivator’s normally expressionless face.

Since then, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji have sat by Wei Wuxian’s bedside in complete silence, both refusing to leave. If Jin Ling had thought the relationship between his uncle and Hanguang-jun had been strained before, then it was nothing compared to the tension radiating off both of them now, growing sharper and icier with each day that passes while Wei Wuxian remains unconscious.

Under better circumstances, Jin Ling would have crowed at the opportunity to finally see inside the Forbidden Room of Lotus Pier, his uncle having boarded up Wei Wuxian’s old room for the past sixteen years with strict orders forbidding anyone from entering or face his merciless wrath.

But right now, Jin Ling just feels ill.

“Wei-qianbei will be okay, Jin Ling,” Sizhui tells him, not for the first time, correctly interpreting his silence. Jin Ling nods, plucking miserably at the lotus pod in his hand.

Sizhui has been faring remarkably better than him despite how close he knows Sizhui is to his Xian-gege, spending a lot of time in the kitchens cooking up meals that he and Jin Ling both force Hanguang-jun and Jiang Cheng to eat. The cooking seems to give Sizhui something to do with his hands in the same way Jin Ling has been anxiously plucking lotus pods. At this rate, no lotuses are going to bloom in this portion of the lake come next autumn.

Zizhen throws an arm around Jin Ling’s slumped shoulders then and coaxes him into a game of Go. Halfway through their second game while Jin Ling is bickering with Jingyi over his stone placement, the brisk almost-run of YunmengJiang’s senior physician and her two attendants towards Wei Wuxian’s rooms have them all abandoning the game and sprinting off the pier after them.

Jin Ling bursts through the door, his friends quick on his heels, barely managing to skid to a stop before he crashes into one of the many disciples who are standing in the back. (It has occurred to him over the past few days just how truly well-loved Wei Wuxian still is amongst the survivors from the burning of Lotus Pier who remember their da-shixiong, especially now that catching Jiang Cheng’s displeasure is no longer exactly a consequence.)

“Lan Zhan…”

Wei Wuxian’s voice is clear even from the back of the room, and the sheer relief that floods through Jin Ling at hearing it almost sends him to his knees.

Jin Ling squeezes through the throng of people until he reaches the bed. Wei Wuxian has been shifted and is now lying on Hanguang-jun’s lap, looking pale, his eyes still closed, but awake. Hanguang-jun has his arms around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, murmuring quietly, “Wei Ying, I’m here.” Beside them, Jiang Cheng is hovering, shoulders and back tense, while the sect physician performs a series of checks.

“Jiang Cheng?” Wei Wuxian says.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, and it visibly takes his uncle several moments to work the words out of his throat. “I’m–right here,” he grits out. “Idiot,” he adds.

There’s a flat line to Lan Wangji’s mouth, but a smile blooms across Wei Wuxian’s lips, and he lets out a short huff of laughter. “The kids?” Wei Wuxian asks.

“We’re fine,” Jin Ling says quickly, a little too loudly, and he flushes lightly in embarrassment when Hanguang-jun glances at him.

“Xian-gege, everyone’s safe. You don’t need to worry,” Sizhui adds, quieter than Jin Ling, but the relief in his voice is palpable. Jingyi’s and Zizhen’s loud clamoring additions behind them widen the smile on Wei Wuxian’s face, and he finally blinks his eyes slowly open to look at them. Jin Ling has never been so glad in his life to see the familiar teasing amusement in those grey eyes.

“Brats,” Wei Wuxian murmurs fondly.

The sect physician finishes and turns to bow to Jiang Cheng and Hanguang-jun. “Your Excellency, zongzhu, Wei-gongzi is recovering adequately, but he won’t be well enough to travel for some time. I recommend he rest for at least a week or more.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head, turning his attention back to Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng exchanges a few quiet words with her that Jin Ling doesn’t catch before she bows and leaves the room. A sweeping look from his uncle scatters the rest of the mingling disciples from the room, leaving only the three adults and the juniors. Wei Wuxian is in the process of pulling himself up into a seated position with Hanguang-jun’s help when Jiang Cheng comes back to stand beside Jin Ling.

“Xian-gege,” Sizhui says with a concerned frown when Wei Wuxian winces even with Hanguang-jun supporting him from behind. “You shouldn’t strain yourself.”

“I’m fine, A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian reassures despite sounding winded. He rests his hand on the crown of Sizhui’s head and smiles. “I’ll be up running with you all again in no time, you’ll see.”

Jiang Cheng’s jaw clenches tightly, and Jin Ling glances at him warily–he can practically hear his uncle’s teeth grinding. Being in a coma for four days apparently hasn’t taken away Wei Wuxian’s ability to know when Jiang Cheng is annoyed either because he turns to look at his brother. Jiang Cheng’s face is a stony canvas of too many emotions, wound up tighter now than even these last few days of waiting for Wei Wuxian to wake up. The tension is suddenly so thick it could be cut with a sword.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling tries weakly.

Several things happen then at once. Swift and sudden as the crack of lightning, Jiang Cheng is swinging his arm forward. Startled, Wei Wuxian moves backwards as Jin Ling gasps and reflexively grabs his uncle’s other arm to try and tug him away. Faster than any of them, Hanguang-jun’s hand shoots out and closes around Jiang Cheng’s fist, stopping the movement instantly.

The ensuing silence reverberates so loudly against the walls that Jin Ling’s ears ring. For a moment, no one dares to breathe.

“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji says coldly, his voice sending warning bells through everyone’s heads. Jiang Cheng looks at him, and the temperature in the room cools several thousand degrees as the two men glare at each other.

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling protests, tugging at his uncle’s arm. (How is he back this already?) Nobody moves.

Finally, Wei Wuxian reaches up and grabs Jiang Cheng’s wrist. “Lan Zhan, let go,” he says. Hanguang-jun turns to look at him, and even though his expression doesn’t change, his incredulity is clear. Wei Wuxian smiles, and not for the first time, Jin Ling feels like they’ve had a thousand conversations without saying a single word. “Lan Zhan,” he says again.

Slowly, Lan Wangji releases Jiang Cheng’s hand but fixes the man with a frosty stare, looking poised and ready to strike. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, just tugs lightly at his brother’s wrist.

“A-Cheng,” he whines, his face taking on an absurdly deliberate pout even in the face of Jiang Cheng’s temper. Jin Ling would have been impressed if his heart wasn’t trying to slam out of his ribcage. “How can you try to hit me so soon after I wake up?”

“You deserve it,” Jiang Cheng says viciously, but there’s very little heat to his words. He hasn’t even bothered to pull away. His uncle looks angry and lost again, like he had back in the forest with Wei Wuxian bleeding under his hands because he had stepped in front of a fierce corpse to save them both. His uncle had screamed, had cried, had carried Wei Wuxian home and held vigil by his bedside for days.

Maybe that’s why Wei Wuxian waits now, patiently refusing to let his brother go. “I know,” he says softly, his lips curving into a gentle, knowing smile.

All at once, Jiang Cheng deflates, crumbling like a puppet losing its strings. Jin Ling watches with wide eyes as his uncle folds himself onto the bed and wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian in a crushing hug, curling himself tightly into his brother’s shoulder. A tender, watery smile blooms over Wei Wuxian’s face as his arms come up around his brother.

“Idiot,” Wei Wuxian says, and it’s fond again. “Didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going to die?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng mutters, voice muffled. He’s shaking, just a little. “You’re the idiot.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, soft and warm. “It’s okay, didi,” he murmurs. “I’m here now.”

Jin Ling is rapidly trying to blink away the stinging in his eyes, aware that he looks ridiculous with his mouth threatening to split open with the force of his smile. But his chest feels so warm that he thinks it might burst from the strength of his joy.

6.

Their next meal together is at Lotus Pier. (His drapings have been drenched with enough flung soup, thank you very much.) Wei Wuxian brings Sizhui along, and thankfully, not Hanguang-jun.

His uncles still bicker the entire time, but their traded barbs have become more teasing over the past few months than terse. There’s a relaxed line to Jiang Cheng’s shoulders now, who appears so much less wound up like he could snap at any moment, and his heart throbs with happiness to see his jiujiu so carefree.

Jin Ling asks his uncles cheekily if they’re ever going to shut up and eat and has to hide his smile when they both turn their threats onto him instead. He snickers with a giggling Sizhui as Wei Wuxian dramatically promises to plant them both on the ground like radishes. Beside him, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

A loose strand of hair frames the right side of his uncle’s face. On his left wrist sits a bracelet.

Fin.

---

Bonus Scene:

It isn’t the first time he’s had his brother’s blood on his hands, and certainly not the first time he’s seen him bleed.

As children, his mother had worked them and the other disciples down to their bones, hours and hours of intense training that left their hands calloused and bleeding. Their friendly competitive sparring matches as they grew older always drew blood from the minor nicks they inflicted on one another (his brother never did injure him for real, until that last time). When the war fell upon their heads, the cuts and gashes turned commonplace, both of them taking turns dressing each other’s wounds after each battle so their sister wouldn’t have to see. Later, after he stabbed his brother on a mountain, he had cleaned the blood off his sword while trying not to vomit.

This shouldn’t have affected him.

But Jiang Cheng wakes up for the sixth night in a row to the darkness of his room, drenched in a cold sweat, an unbearable sensation of slick warm fluid on his hands and the bitter smell of copper in his nose. He swallows and looks down. His hands are clean, dry and still reddened from the number of times he’s scrubbed them raw since carrying his unconscious brother back to Lotus Pier. (Wei Wuxian dying in his arms is not how he had imagined his brother’s next visit to Lotus Pier would go, if Jiang Cheng could ever manage to shove aside his old bitterness to allow it to happen.)

A restless anxiety courses through his entire body, unable to shake off the feeling of stickiness on his hands even when he can see that they’re clean. He throws the covers off himself and puts on his slippers, escaping his room before the haunted shadows swallow him whole. Before Jiang Cheng even realizes which direction his feet are taking him, he’s standing in front of his brother’s room, and some of that old anger flares up into his chest.

He hates that he still loves him, as much as he’s always had. He hates that he still needs him, still yearns for his brother’s companionship, even after everything. He hates that his brother had thrown himself in front of Jiang Cheng for the millionth time, as if he hasn’t already accumulated enough debt between them that he can never hope to pay back, the last sacrifice still burning sharply in his lower abdomen.

He hates, most of all, that having his brother at Lotus Pier for the past week has loosened the tightly wound coil in his chest, blowing open the doors of his heart with bursts of sunlight that warms him all the way to his fingertips, in a way he hasn’t felt since the day he lost him.

It’s okay, didi. I’m here now.

He enters the room quietly, thankful that Hanguang-jun had been pulled away by duties and had to return to Gusu for the next few days while Wei Wuxian continues to convalesce at Lotus Pier. Without that man’s constant aggravating presence, Jiang Cheng feels less like he’s standing on the chopping block in his own damn home.

His brother is fast asleep, curled over on his side. The color has returned to his face, and the healthy flush eases some of the tightness in his chest. Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he will ever forget the way his brother had looked, laying blue and still on the forest ground, nor the cold terror that washed over him at the thought that he had lost his brother again after he had just gotten him back.

(He wonders what he would have done if he had really discovered his brother underneath that fiery mountain all those years ago–if he’d been faced with the indisputable reality that his brother was truly gone, would he have just disintegrated where he stood. Sometimes, he thinks the hope, the certainty of seeing Wei Wuxian again was the only reason why he survived.)

Jiang Cheng stands watching his brother sleep for a long time. He’s seen him now, he tries to tell himself. His brother is fine. He should turn around and go back to his room. He’s not a child anymore, seeking comfort from his siblings after a nightmare. He’s a sect leader. He’s been alone with the world on his shoulders for decades. He really, really shouldn’t need this.

But the thought of returning to his cold room, haunted by the phantom smells of blood and the echoes of his brother’s rattling breaths, keeps his feet stubbornly rooted in place.

He feels like a wound that’s never healed, smarting at every turn, every prod, every instance of his brother’s sunlit grin. He’s angry, exhausted, so weary that he can barely hold himself up from under the weight of all the years of mistakes and regret, but mostly, he misses his brother so much he could choke.

Go on then, A-Cheng.

His sister’s voice is sweet and encouraging, so familiar and clear that it drags a sharp stuttering ache across his heart. She’s always been able to unwind his stubbornness, his inability to just do what he wants without thinking of a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t, and it finally, finally pushes him forward now.

Wei Wuxian wakes as Jiang Cheng crawls underneath the covers. His brother doesn’t speak or ask any questions, shifting aside and letting Jiang Cheng curl himself against his brother like he hasn’t done since they were both twelve and afraid of thunderstorms. He trembles, only a little bit, when his brother’s arms come around and hold him close.

His brother’s heartbeat is a reassuring sound against his ear, a surety that he is wholly and invariably alive, returned to the world, to Jiang Cheng’s life against all possible odds–a second chance that Jiang Cheng probably doesn’t deserve but has been given anyway. It soothes away some of that old anger and settles the last of the anxiety fluttering through his veins. Slowly, he’s lulled into sleep by the steady sound of his brother’s quiet breathing.

Jiang Cheng dreams of lotus blooms and smiles.

 ---

Final Notes:

1. Title is lyrics from Imagine Dragons’ Whatever It Takes.

2. So there's probably like established xianxia/wuxia rules about what magical spirit/demon/ghoul-repelling beads actually do and how they are made, but I couldn't for the life of me find any credible sources, SO I just made it up. Yolo. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. I don’t know how well I executed what I wanted to do here, but I love (2) idiots, and I will die on this hill. Did I screw up everyone’s characterizations? Highly probable.

4. I really love Jiang Cheng’s one-sided bang in CQL. (CAN WE JUST BASK IN WZC’S BEAUTIFUL FACE?) It's an immense travesty that he stops wearing it when he decides he needs be an adult™. But Wei Wuxian secretly misses it, and I wanted to play with that symbolism of change a little.

5. Thanks to @winepresswrath for dealing with my incessant rambling and for the genius idea of the “Forbidden Room” of Lotus Pier. Lmao.

6. I know this was meant to be a Jin Ling perspective fic, but I couldn’t help writing the bonus scene and had to stop myself from turning it into a Jiang Cheng version of this, because I already have too many WIPs that I will never finish. (Dammit plot bunnies, leave me alone!)

7. Please feel free to come scream with me about cql/mdzs and yunmeng shuangjie on my personal tumblr. :D

8. Thank you so much for reading!! ♥︎♥︎♥︎ Stay healthy and well!!

[coldbloodedcreator]

Touch

a little gift for @luminescentlyricist ! i just... have some intense clown brainrot. also, excuse how jumbled and weird it might be at the end, I was passing out (still am) while writing it and im too excited to share it to revise much. fandom: homestuck (oc oriented) characters: othamo oculus (oc), jezakk imetat (friends oc) length: 1426 words pov: 3rd person (jezakk)

touch.

that was one way othamo would communicate with jezakk.

a pat at the shoulders to access where the smaller was, a grab at his arm to signal he needed help walking. he could be a bit rough but usually never meant to harm jezakk, told by the small apologizes that muttered from his lips. he could be verbally affectionate — but they were rarer than jezakk liked. he understood, though. being verbal about feelings was hard. jezakk couldn't get a single sentence out without his voice stuttering and cracking, no matter how hard he tried. he admired how flat his matesprit could keep his tone. sometimes he wondered if he could ask othamo how to control his voice - as othamo was one of the few troupe members who spoke with no rises in his voice at all, and spoke at a moderately quiet level compared to everyone else. but he doubted othamo would, or that it would work for long.

jezakk's internal dialogue was interrupted by a tight grip as his arm. claws dug into his flesh and jezakk had to quickly brief a glance towards his matesprit, before giving his vice gripped claws a gentle pat. "Uh," jezakk sort of grumbled low, to his best ability. he still held his claws over othamos, resisting the urge to try and pry them off. even if he tried, othamo would likely just grab on at a different section of his arm. "hEy.. cOUld yOU Uh... rElAx A lIttlE, Oth?" he sort of stammered. his eyes flickered back and forth from the emotionless grin on his matesprit's face to the near wall, his shoulders tense. luckily for him the claws relaxed and jezakk could feel the blood start to return to his arm. "i gEt yOUr nErvOUs-" othamo blunted overspoke jezakk, claws digging in once more. "im n⊙t nerv⊙us." he grunted. jezakk could hear othamo's breath hissing through his irregular, pin prick teeth, his smile much more open than his resting one. jezakk was near convinced that othamo grinned when he was nervous, and that othamo was a nervous wreck at all times. which wasn't rather farfetched from what jezakk had gathered from previous drops of othamo's cool facade, or the comments he made, but jezakk could hardly tell when othamo was being sincere or not. he couldn't even tell when othamo's rage was genuine. jezakk's eyes landed at the floor, where he could just barely see his foot tapping against the cold cement. he near became fully absorbed with his nervous leg bouncing before an idea sparked in the back of his mind. "hEy, I hAd An IdEA..." he could feel othamo's claws loosen more, before they eventually relaxed and let go. jezakk gingerly touched at where the claws had sunk in and left indents, feeling the small bumps. there was a few greasy smears of the oils from othamo's marionette strings that made jezakk briefly grimace. "what is it?" jezakk could've sworn that was more of a demand than a question. the way othamo's raspy voice spoke was a bit unnerving at times. othamo had told jezakk that when he was younger, he didn't start talking till he was around 6 or 7 sweeps old, which at first sounded somewhat ridiculous. but ... it did make some sense. "I wAs thInkIng.. AbOUt hOw yOU strUgglE wIth shOwIng AffEctIOn?" jezakk tried to word this in the kindess way possible. he could see othamo's eyebrow quirk out of the corner of his eyes. "whAt If I shOwEd yOU A wAy tO dO It wIthOUt wOrds?" "y⊙u mean asl?" for once his voice changed at the end, but went deeper instead of higher. it still registered as a questioning tone, but a grumpy one. "yEAh! wEll, Uh, nO, nOt cOmplEtEly, bEcAUsE.. yOU knOw," he gave a few vague hand movements, even though they'd go unnoticed. "yes. because im blind. i kn⊙w." it almost sounded like a sigh coming from him. jezakk frowned.

"AnywAys. wEll.. I knOw yOU lIkE drUmmIng yOUr fIngErs On stUff, sO mAybE sOmEthIng wIth thAt?" jezakk could see othamo's smile growing more forced, signalling a zone out on othamo's end. jezakk jabbed an elbow at othamo and he straighted up again. he gave no apology for his brief lack of consciousness, simply giving jezakk a smile. "... hOw dOEs thAt sOUnd?" "h⊙w d⊙es what s⊙und." jezakk sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. sometimes his matesprit was so goddamn stubborn. instead of making a mistake like last time where the question spiraled out of control, he just gave a small shake of his head. he reached his claws forward, placing them on othamo's shoulder gently. underneath the three different layers othamo tensed up at the touch. after a brief few seconds to let othamo's shoulders relax did jezakk drum his claws against his matesprit, giving a reassuring smile. "I lOvE yOU." jezakk said gently. he could feel othamo's blind gaze near bore through his skull. the taller's claws drifted forward, resting against jezakk's arm. he drums his fingers against it much gentler than expected, almost lost between the sweater fabric. this caused a wide smile to form on jezakk's face and a gentle flush fill his heart, and he lowered his hand. a few moments passed before othamo moved his hand to jezakk's face and drummed there as well. othamo's smile had visible softened. it was almost like his icy exterior melted away, revealing the personality that jezakk knew as his matesprit. othamo slowly crouched - trying to avoid popping his knees, as he understood the sound wasnt very desirable - and quickly after engulfed jezakk into a hug. he pulled jezakk close as a loud purr begun to rumble from deep within his chest and he nuzzled his face against jezakk's shoulder. his claws drummed rhythmically against jezakk's back, over and over, as he gave the tinkerer a squeeze. jezakk was rather surprised, but also quite elated, at the sudden affection. his cheeks turned lilac as he wrapped his arms around his matesprit, placing his chin on othamo's shoulder. his own claws gently rolled against othamo’s back, able to feel the scutes that decorated the spine of the puppeteers spine. it was a nice feeling. a few minutes pass, and they depart from their embrace. othamo remained crouched for a little bit, simply facing jezakk. the smaller purpleblood didn't move, as othamo still his claws on his shoulders.

"hey jazzy." "hm?" he blinked, tilting his head as a force of habit. "want t⊙ kn⊙w s⊙mething?" othamo asked, grin still present. jezakk lets out a soft chuckle. "sUrE, whAt Is It?" "when i think ⊙f y⊙u, i d⊙nt try t⊙ imagine the bits and pieces put t⊙gether ⊙f what y⊙u might l◎‿◉k like. i think ⊙f the stars. ⊙r at least my mem⊙ries ⊙f them. i used t⊙ marvel at the night sky, enam⊙red by them. they were s⊙ beautiful. y⊙u remind me ⊙f th⊙se stars, jazzy. s⊙ bright, interw⊙ven int⊙ the cl⊙uds ⊙f stardust."

a long pause came from jezakk. he stared at othamo, unable to find words. eventually he found a smile and another giggle leaves his lips. "Oth... thAts sO swEEt. I dIdn't knOw yOU wErE A rOmAntIc." othamo gives a playful nudge, leaning back onto his heels. "d⊙n't get t◎‿◉ c⊙cky ab⊙ut it, ⊙r else i w⊙nt tell y⊙u my pent up l⊙ve p⊙ems at all." othamo holds a genuine smile though, shoulders lax. he leaned forward and gently pressed his cold nose against jezakk's before giving the tinkerer a drum on the shoulders, and then standing straight. his previous fears seemed to have long since left him, his matesprit bringing his mood up significantly. othamo's smile can only widen more as another troll pops into jezakk's practice tent - where the two trolls currently were. he could hear the troll mutter something about "i knew id find you here" before informing the puppeteer his show was to begin soon, and othamo gives a simple nod. he looked to jezakk's direction once more before leaning down to place an affectionate kiss on jezakk's forehead, murmuring a few soft words and then making his way out. he paused at the entrance of the tent, glancing back again. he reached to the nearby beam and gave it a drum, smile perked. and then he leaves, vanishing into the bright big top to preform. jezakk could only watch, grin soft and his heart still beating firmly in his chest.

othamo could communicate verbally with jezakk, too. and boy does he love when he did.

[mwolf0epsilon]

I was asking what you think Henry's fate is. Is it a time loop? Is it just a reel playing? Is all of it just a dream on his or Joey Drew's death bed? But you pose an interesting question too, do all the games connect in some way even if BATDR is not gonna be a direct continuation?

I’ve pondered on the nature of the world of Bendy and the Ink Machine for a while now and, after a little bit of digging around, reading theories that people have had, watching theory videos and a few playthroughs, I’ve come to a few conclusions over Henry’s fate and the meaning behind the ambiguous ending we got.

This idea is, as such, a mixture of Game Theory’s Revised BATIM Ending Theory plus expectations for BATDR, SuperHorrorBro’s ideas for who BATDR’s Big Bad might actually be, as well as several other ideas that have consistently popped up through out the Fandom’s existence.

Buckle up, this might get long as heck.

---

     To start this off, I’m gonna need to clarify that the Cycle (which is the dimension the first game takes place in, although the origins of this particular world are still debatable as real or fiction within the canon itself) functions in a way that seems to rely heavily on ideas and impossible physics. Not only that, but those who exist within this plane will follow a mixture of Real World and Cartoon World laws, so while death exists in the Cycle it isn’t permanent and things that could usually obliterate you in one go (like massive falls, a hit with an axe, or getting bashed by an out of control fairground attraction) aren’t an instant threat to your overall health. It also appears that people within the Cycle aren’t immediatly aware that they’re following cartoon logic, as Henry (who is supposedly human) doesn’t seem to react all that much to some of the most life threatening moments he faces in the Studio. This in itself already shows something is off about the whole situation Bendy’s original creator has gotten himself mixed up with.

Another thing I need to point out is that the Toonification process doesn’t seem to be reliant of the Cycle itself, and instead happened in the Real World as the events in “Dreams Come True”, and Thomas Connor’s and Joey Drew’s Audio Log on the Ink Demon imply. This, to me, seems to point towards the Cycle having been made some point during Joey’s Toonification experiments as maybe somewhere to hide his twisted creations, so it might be the Ink Machine has the capacity to not only bring things to “life” but to also create other dimensions from templates. Where these dimensions are kept is up to debate, but I assume Joey keeps the Cycle withing the Ink Machine itself. Either way, what I mean to say with these two little notes is that, while Henry appears to be in a fake version of the Studio that doesn’t mean the story of the game is just that, a story. I think everything IS real. But more on that in a bit...

Lets get started with the actual questions you asked:

--Is it a time loop?-- 

Yes, positively. The Tool clarifies this as soon as we get it. In fact, the iteration of the loop we’re doing as Henry is the 415th, and the following we do with the Tool unlocked is the 416th, meaning Henry (and by extention the other Studio Prisoners) have been at this for quite some time even if we weren’t aware at first. To the point where Henry began trying to establish contact with himself.

--Is it just a reel playing?-- 

Also yes. The Cycle as I’ve pointed out before, operates on Cartoon Logic. As such it can be compared to an endlessly looping reel of unfinished film. This is made more apparent by the reel Henry uses to “beat” the Ink Demon. “The End” is something of a curiosity as it is a contradiction in of itself. Not so much a final dot to close off an act as an infinity mark. It’s existence within the Cyle is also curious, as it seems unlikely Joey would have physically made a reel to stop the Ink Demon, so it brings the question of whether or not Mr. Drew can alter the Cycle externally (something that’s already hinted at due to the storyboards you can find on his desk at Joey’s apartment).

This to me indicates the Cycle can be altered (which Henry does whenever he tries to communicate, and by Allison Angel discovering the messages), but that bigger changes need to be done from the Real World.

--Is all of it just a dream on Henry’s or Joey Drew's death bed?--

No, I don’t think it’s a dream or just a story Joey is telling a child. I think the happenings of the game are actually happening, but that perhaps “The End” is a series of blank reels Joey feeds into the Ink Machine and that get filled out by Henry’s actions, and that Joey then watches them and recounts the tales to who I can only assume might likely be Henry’s and Linda’s daughter (as Joey pointed out Henry settled down while he did not, and it’s never mentioned if he has siblings).

With these questions out of the way, here’s what I believe happened to Henry and the implications of the game’s ending where Joey’s “niece” requests another story... The fact of the matter is that Henry is dead.

Why do I believe this? It’s like Matpat pointed out in his Revised Theory video (I know, y’all gonna get on my case because “Game Theory is cringy ew”, but seriously have a look yourself instead of going off in my askbox). It all has to do with small details that seem insignificant or just asthetic choices, but that can actually have a lot more hold on the plot.

Two of these details are:

The 5 coffins at the Studio and letters in Joey’s appartment.

The newspaper clipping Joey keeps in the Ink Machine room at the appartment, which was specifically picked and curated to appear in the game despite the player never going into the room to see it up close.

There’s a number of characters you learn about in the game and (by extention) the novel, and quite a few are dead (Such as Buddy’s friends Jacob and Dot who were murdered by an insane Sammy), but surprisingly only 5 have physical coffins at the Studio ingame.

And what do I mean by physical coffins? Well, there’s a 6th unofficial one, that’s what... And where can we find it?

Henry’s cell in chapter 5. He drew it himself even.

This doesn’t confirm anything of course, it could just be that Henry is into dramatics, but then we get to the newspaper clipping that Joey picked out specifically and kept in a room only he likely enters:

“Local Artist Pushed Himself Too Hard, Found Dead at Desk”

And what did Joey say about Henry pushing him to do the right thing? That he should have pushed a little harder... Like somehow Henry is at fault for Joey’s bad choices. Like Henry deserves what comes next... It almost feels like someone dishing out a speech before an execution, justifying why they’re getting killed. It’s a scene that made me inexplicably nervous until I looked into things.

Why bring up the coffins and letters to prove this, you may ask? Well, another thing Matpat points out is that the people who have coffins are people who were put through the Ink Machine, dying in the process and returning as Ink Monstrosities/Imperfect Toons, while people who got a letter from Joey and that replied to him were never lured back to him.

Wally Franks, for example, is living in Florida so he couldn’t make it to New York to fall into Mr. Drew’s trap. Allison and Thomas Connors are also out of the way so they merely exchange formaleties through correspondance (which implies Joey “made up” with them at some point to try to lure them back and has kept the charade up for a while).

So anyway, people who have coffins in the Studio are not only confirmed dead but also became monsters.

Norman became the Projectionist

Grant likely became either the Piper, Fisher, or Striker

Bertrum became the monstrous Carnival Ride

Lacie likely became either the Piper, Fisher or Striker

Susie became the Imperfect Alice Angel

You’re likely asking about Allison Angel and Tom Boris now, to which I raise you another Matpat pointer from the video above: Allison Angel states that she and Tom would dissolve if they were in contact with pools of ink.

Why is this relevant? Well, it means their bodies are made entirely of ink unlike, for example, Norman who is the sculking Projectionist. Why Norman? Well, he wades through a pool of Ink in level 14 and doesn’t dissolve. Heck, he chases Henry through the pool of ink without any trouble whatsoever in catching up. Why is he different from Allison and Tom? Because he has a soul stabilizing his grotesquely altered body.

Creatures that were once human and were transformed don’t just dissolve into ink. Their bodies remain intact after death until they eventually return to the inky abyss (potentially from being ripped apart) or until they’re revived by a Bendy Statue (Like Sammy, as implied by a clever easter egg near the fountain with the respawning Swollen Searcher).

In fact, now that I think about it, out of all the hostile creatures you encounter, Sammy, Susie, Norman, Bertrum and the Butcher Gang are some of the more stable bodied creatures within the Cycle, requiring a lot more hits to die than Searchers and Lost Ones, although Susie does die from a single stab (though the blow itself WAS pretty devastating in itself).

After pondering on this little idea I realized that the presence of Allison Angel and Tom Boris were entirely fabricated at that point. One of many alterations created by Joey to guide Henry through the last leg of his journey towards “The End”, very likely modelled after the real Allison and Thomas who he viewed as hostile, thus portrayed them as initially aggressive towards Henry. I mean, after so many unsuccefful attempts to make creatures entirely of ink (like the Ink Demon), it’s not too farfetched to say Joey eventually got the hang of it. The Mini Ink machines do it flawlessly and even help Henry, so who’s to say Joey didn’t perfect it within the Cycle to create beings not quite as strong as the Ink Demon, but strong enough to kill corrupt humans?

Again why is any of this relevant to how I think Henry’s dead? Simple. People who replied to Joey lived. Henry didn’t reply, instead he was lured in.

      I believe that the Ink Machine’s disastrous results in the Real World made Joey realize that making a person into a Toon through passing them through the machine with a template wasn’t gonna cut it to fix the grand mess he’d made out of the Ink Demon. But, I also think he realized passing them through the Ink Machine while living was also the issue. The ink corrupted their souls, left them vulnerable to becoming Imperfect beings like Susie. Having them ingest the ink prior to going through was also not gonna cut it, as it’s connection to the Ink Demon gradually destroyed Sammy’s already frail sanity and changed him into an abomination (that had a pretty strong will for possibly three deaths before he finally lost himself completely and became a soulless Searcher). This left one final method to experiment with on the one person he thought responsible to clean his fuck-ups: Joey had to kill Henry prior to putting him through the machine.

     In “Dreams Come True”, Buddy reveals that upon becoming Boris, his body was discarded. A byproduct of his soul enfusing with the ink and rejecting his human flesh. It might be possible that Joey was quick enough in killing Henry in an inconspicuous manner and then putting his body through the machine that Henry’s soul was pulled into the Cycle flawlessly while his body was spat back out for Joey to later deal with (Putting him behind his work desk as if he’d simply died of exhaustion, neatly hiding his crime behind the “suffering of a tortured artist”). This would explain why Henry lacks a shadow or reflection. He’s a ghost. A ghost that’s slowly realizing how hopeless his situation is. What a great pal Joey Drew turned out to be...

     Moving on to the ending of the game itself, there’s some very dark implications that come with Henry being dead. For one, Joey Drew doesn’t have a family, yet he’s recounting Henry’s plight to a little girl who affectionately calls him “Uncle Joey”. We know Henry pursued a family over a busy career, so it’s heavily implied that during the 414 attempts of trying to find a way out of the Studio, Henry’s wife has been grieving him, going so far as to leave their daughter with Joey as she tries to provide for the both of them.

Joey being the pathological liar that he is, would likely graciously look afer his old friend’s daughter and maybe offer “emotional support” to a distraught Linda, cementing his innocense, all the while bragging to the child about what really happened to her father without her knowing. That is a pretty twisted theory and I honestly like the idea due to how horrific it is.

But where does BATDR come into play here?

Well, it’s been confirmed to not be a prequel nor a sequel. Matpat suggested it might either be an Alternate Universe or a Side Story. I believe the latter is more likely, thanks to SuperHorrorBro theorizing that the people behind Gent might be the Big Bad/cause of that particular game’s misfortunes. A Side Story about the Ink Machine being recreated and templates re-used to create a familiar yet brand new nightmare.

I believe BATIM and BATDR are a vicious cycle of madness happening at the same time. The same task repeated by people who expect different results. Only with Joey Drew it was an animation studio, with GENT it might be on a larger scale...But who knows?

There will be returning characters, so maybe BATDR will shed new light upon the Ink Machine and the Cycle’s true nature.

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

Might I request some fluffy Felicia/m!Corrin feeding hijinks (5, 9, 10 ,11, maybe a bit of 6 if you're feeling it)? I would be eternally grateful

5) Stuffing/feeding/etc.9) Button popping/seam ripping/etc.10) Humiliation11) Magical wg6) Mutual wg

Being stuck in the castle for his whole life, there were several ways Corrin learned to pass the long, long time he often had on his hands. If asked, he could tell you how many stones and the various types that were used to construct the great fortress, how often people come and go, and what times of year they were most likely to eat certain dishes. Food, however, was usually the high point of staying within the halls of the Northern Fortress. Being a part of the royal family, and only visited by the others – practically never by Garon himself – no one really told him no or questioned why the prince would eat maybe a little too much or at odd times of day.

The servants at the fortress were, in general, rather kind. Corrin got to know those closest to him, such as Jacob and Lilith, as well as the maids, Flora and Felicia. It was one of the sister maids, however, that the young prince ended up becoming closest with. She was almost desperate to please – which, given how clumsy she could be at her job, wasn’t very farfetched. When the other staff grew too frustrated with her spilling tea, breaking plates or messing up laundry, it was Corrin who often asked her to spend time with him. Many retainers though he may have, they had plenty of other duties to attend to considering he never left the fortress, and so he was still often left on his own. Felicia was good company; she was lively and genuine, and even if she wasn’t a good cook, she was determined to make sure Corrin enjoyed their time together.

So, while King Garon desired for Corrin to become a strong, battle-worthy asset, he ended up spending more time eating meals with his favorite maid instead of training. 

At first, it started out simply enough. They’d have long talks and tea with sandwiches or cakes of varying kinds. Corrin got to learn more about Felicia herself, as well as her family and her people. She quickly became a friend to him, and then, more than a friend as they continued to bond. Their meals stretched out longer and longer as they talked in more depth or simply spent time together in a comfortable silence. Seeing how Corrin seemed to enjoy all the different foods that the kitchen staff could create, Felicia would bring more and more to choose from as time went on. Their meals could extend for several hours at a time, with the two of them eating and drinking in utter excess.

Now, no longer dedicating the time he used to to training, and eating so much, it was starting to show up very clearly on him. Corrin started to notice that his armor no longer fit as it should, and so stopped using it entirely – telling himself that he’d get it refitted, but never actually getting around to it. He switched over to wearing looser, more comfortable clothing, but even those only lasted so long as his weight continued to climb.

What started off as simply his face filling out a little, or perhaps a bit of softness around his middle, soon graduated to not being able to get pants on or popping a button off of a shirt. One such occurrence happened while he was sharing dinner with his visiting siblings. He’d been laughing at a story Elise was recounting about her retainers, when the pressure of his too tight shirt suddenly let up around the apex of his belly, the shiny button pinging off a few dishes before spinning onto the table in plain sight. There was a deathly silence afterward, everyone at the table surprised by the suddenness and secondhand embarrassment of it all, until Leo snickered from behind his hand. 

“Well, nice to not be the one having clothing issues for once,” he chuckled, not entirely in a derisive manner, but neither was it lighthearted ribbing. “I might be a bit forgetful when it comes to checking if my shirts are in proper order, but at least I fit into mine!”

Camilla and Xander were quick to try and chastise their younger brother, but the words had been put out there on top of what had happened, and Corrin couldn’t help going red in the face. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into his quarters, but there was still food left on the table, and he didn’t want to waste the time he had with his siblings, as it was few and far between that they visited. He fidgeted in his seat afterwards, trying not to let his eyes dart down to the soft, pale flesh that was poking out of the space left behind from his burst button. It all but oozed out of his confining clothes, no matter how much he attempted to suck in his stomach as conversation was sharply turned away to something noncommittal.

—

Later that night, Corrin had been changing into his night clothes when there was the sound of something skidding across the floor before a loud bang from his door that made him jump – his plump belly and round tits bouncing with the sudden motion. Felicia peeked her head in sheepishly not too long after, cheeks flushed and a tremble in her body that Corrin could see from where he was standing. Giving her a quizzical look, he asked her what she needed – it was rather late, after all, and he still held his nightshirt in a chubby hand, everything above the waist bare to the cool of the night air.

“I just–! I wanted to, um–! Y-You know, this went a lot better in my head…,” she stammered, fidgeting and fussing, her eyes seeming to dart up to his face, before dropping down to his gut, and then repeating the whole process as she prattled on nervously. Taking a deep breath – and, perhaps, holding it a bit too long, as her pink cheeks went a darker scarlet – before practically shouting out, “I saw you bust your button off at dinner, and I couldn’t look away while watching you eat and eat even after, and–” She devolved into a bit of a rushed mess after that, but what Corrin did hear made him blush and had his heart beating excited-nervous in his chest.

“So, you…don’t think it’s a bad thing? The way I eat like a spoiled pig?” Corrin prodded, testing. He’d been sweet on Felicia for a while now, but was she really being serious here? Liking that he stuffed his face until he literally burst out of his clothes?

“We…Well, you’re a prince, right?” the maid pointed out, seeming to gain a little bit of confidence after getting everything out in the open and not immediately being rejected. “Royalty should do whatever they feel like, eat whatever they like and however much of it that they want to. A prince should show off his luxury to others…Should look like he enjoys every bit of excess that passes his lips.” Her tone is short and breathy, face still a bright red, but no longer out of nervousness or fear.

Corrin closed the distance between them, almost crowding Felicia in by the door with is chubby figure. “If you’re a part of that excess, I can’t think of a better way to live. After all, eating with you has been one of the best things in my life. Eating for you can only be better, right?” Boldly spoken, a smirk on his cherubic face as he thought about it. Thought about all the meals Felicia and he would share, every luxury they could enjoy together – unrestrained and uncaring for what others thought. If they wanted to mock or be disgusted, they’d make sure that envy and jealousy over their gluttonous decadence was quick to overtake any other feeling. 

Felicia was all too happy to do her part. She made sure that Corrin ate only the largest, most lavish meals all day long. If his arms got tired of the mechanical action of raising a spoon or fork or glass to his lips, she cheerfully took over; whispering sweet nothings and light teasing in his ears as she hand-fed him. She got a front row seat to how Corrin grew and expanded day after day, month after month. He either spent his time in bed, or set up at the great dining table – no matter where he was, he always had a full mouth and a hungry belly. A belly which had grown exponentially at Felicia’s devoted attention. The staff were constantly trying to keep up with the prince’s appetite and waistline – more food being made, and clothes continuously being adjusted. 

Corrin’s thighs and hips squished out between the seat of his chair and the arms, love handles and belly pressing down on the arms from above. The thick, heavy wood of the chair creaked and groaned; it wouldn’t last much longer, and would need to be replaced just like the ones that had come before it. His lap was completely obscured, and if not for the way his seat forced his fat legs together, Corrin’s monster gut would be forcing them apart – begging for more room to expand. It was a thing of beauty, quite honestly; pale and quivering as he demolished whatever was set before him, it was long past the point of ever seeming to get full. Throughout meals, Felicia would rub and squeeze that behemoth of a belly, kneading the plush fat with one hand and filling it up to the brim with food with the other hand. Shirts could only contain it for so long, and rarely did they last through an entire meal, so it was often on display to some degree as the day wore on. 

With every meal made, Felicia added a bit of Ice Tribe magic to it – living in such a cold area, they had long ago harnessed magic to help themselves survive; often, this came in the form of adding fat reserves to the body to make it through freezing winters that never seemed to have an end. For her, it was easy enough to double or triple the amount of calories any one meal contained. She could slow down Corrin’s metabolism to a crawl, making the weight pile on that much faster. It worked such wonders on her love, and it warmed her heart to see her tribe’s skills being used to make someone she cared for so much so large and happy in his ever increasing size.

Of course, with all this food around, Corrin wasn’t the only one to put on weight. Before, the two of them had always shared meals together, and the sheer amount of rich food had shown up on Felicia as well. Certainly not to the same degree as her beloved prince, but she’d developed quite the lovely, slightly exaggerated hourglass figure; all soft curves around her widened hips, and overflowing breasts that Corrin would often lazily but lovingly grab and tease when she leaned over to press a forkful of food to his lips.

No matter what others in Garon’s court thought or said about the steadily growing royal, Corrin and Felicia were completely and utterly in love with each other and the lifestyle of indulgence – both food and affection – that they’d jumped into together.

[sicprowl]

The Fell-Star P2.1

The Fell-Star Series

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{Ashe's Log} //FORMAT - VIDEO// {DATE: ERA2 Ethereal Moon, 1184}

....................................................................

//LOCATION: ASHE’S ROOM//

……………………………………………………….

The screen cuts from black to a series of fast scrolling numbers and data before humming to life

“Ah, there.”  Ashe waves at his image.  “H-Hello, uh, I’m Ashe-no, wait…”

He sat up straight, “Engineering Officer Ashe of the starship Blue Lion.  Log input number one - subject…”

Ashe began to tremble in place, hands gripping the notepad in his lap while his face shone bright with excitement.

“First Contact With Alien Life!”

Okay!  Okay…  He had to calm down - breathe.

Breathe.

It’s okay.  Everything was fine.  It’s not like this wasn’t the discovery of the century or anything.

“Alien life.”  Ashe stressed again at the camera, his shuddering form looking a bit more controlled.

He probably looked silly, especially with how messy his room looked behind him.  Despite the bed being made and the floor clear of things like laundry or trash, his tiny desk and three shelves hanging above it were littered with books.  Some books on science and math, old school texts that proved useful; but mostly fictional novels revolving around space explorers, the unknown fathoms of the universe, and the discovery of new life.

Oh no, he was overdoing it again.

Ashe cleared his throat and decided to focus on his notes, knowing it was the only thing that would keep him from jumping out of his seat in an explosion of hysterical enthusiasm.

Instead, he read over the list of current events from how they found the strange marble-pod, his voice raising in volume when he finally reached the part where the Alien stepped out.

“I’ve never seen anyone like her.  She…”  He put down his notes, trying to describe what he meant.  “She’s almost like us.  Two eyes, a mouth, facial shape, even hair.”

Ashe began to count off his fingers of the other human-esque things about the girl (quickly glossing over how she even had female “features” with a blush).  But he paused when he began to focus on the not-so-human features of their guest.

“She can pass for someone in the crowd if no one looks close enough…  But her hair is such an odd color, and the glowing thing.”

He laughed, “Well, it doesn’t glow all the time.  Just at weird times…”

Ashe wondered if it was something she could control.  It seemed that way, what with how she interacted with the Captain’s lance - even her eyes glowed.  The emblem itself also reacted back, as if they were having some sort of connection of the minds or…  It was only a theory, and theories were good.  But they needed to establish a way of communication with the Alien first - then they would have real answers.

The engineer sighed and continued on to explain the rest of the events and how they’d lured the Alien onto their ship.  Then of their attempt at giving her a physical before the….well, Dimitri kiss thing.

“Well,” Ashe tugged at his collar with a nervous laugh.  “Dimitri’s okay.  Mercedes is keeping him in the Medbay until he wakes up.  Just a little bump.”

And a lot of damage to the ship.  Just more buffering to do later…

“Anyways, once the Captain was out, the Alien didn’t really pay much attention to him.”

The girl had watched as Dedue pried the King from the corner, his head popping out of the large dent with a creaking snap.  Ingrid and Annette had pulled her aside while the others helped their Captain over to the medical table.  The moment Dimitri had let out a moan seemed to be the Alien’s cue to study her surroundings.

Mint green eyes skimmed over each of their faces with keen interest, then to the various tools of the medical bay.  She had seemed particularly interested in the cotton swabs before Ashe, Annette, and Ingrid sat her down in a chair and began to discuss their options.

“We think she can talk, I mean, she has a mouth.”  Ashe scratched his head, “At least some kind of noise.”

It was figuring out how to talk to her and get her to understand was the problem.  Their technology could only translate so much, and without a language to input into the Communication BuD, it was all but useless. They had to do things the old fashion way it seems…

“Ingrid came up with an idea though.  She thinks if we start small enough, like teaching her our names, perhaps she’ll start to learn other things.”

The Pilot had suggested they would use each other’s names as much as possible.  They would make sure she could see who each of them were talking to and understand who each person was.

Ashe smiled at the screen, fists clenched tight.  “Then, maybe she can tell us HER name!”

She wouldn’t be the Alien anymore.  Or the strange creature they found on an Empire vessel.

They’d find out SO MUCH from her and where she’s from.  Her odd connection with Dimitri’s lance.  Why was she in that odd bubble and on an Empire ship?  What did they want with her?  Did she even know?

“There’s so many questions,” Ashe laughed, finally feeling the eager energy leave his body.  His shoulders sagged, “Hopefully we’ll learn so much soon.  Maybe…Maybe it can even help us out in the war?”

A sad look flickered across his face at the idea and that tiny light of hope seemed too far out of reach for them.

“Maybe…We’ll get to go home.”

That seemed even more farfetched and Ashe couldn’t help but want to lay in bed and sleep for days.

He looked at his camera, wavering smile on his face as he reached to stop the recording.

“A-Anyways…  I’ve rambled too much and this video is getting long.  I’ll input more logs and notes once we learn more about our guest.”  He seemed to brighten a little, “Our Alien guest.”

Ashe looked back at himself on screen, “This is Engineering Officer of the starship Blue Lion, signing out.”

The screen cuts to black for a a few seconds before flickering back on - Ashe’s fingers messing with the camera

“O-Oh!  And Sylvain is NOT allowed to know about the name idea.  Ingrid thinks he’ll abuse it.”

He would, everyone knew it.

But a strange, creeping feeling told Ashe he’d catch on quick and torture them all.

“A-Ashe logging out,” the boy sighed, ready to take a very long nap.

[minderellas]

the one where you move in together

#mondayswithmingyu

title: the one where you move in together

pairing: kim mingyu/reader

genre: fluff, romance, slice of life

warning(s): one curse word and one mention of (unintentional) self hurt

word count: 1.4k

a/n: wow i’m finally not late for once eheh also if anyone knows the reference behind the title u are awesome and ily forever. also i have the whole week off so i’m gonna be writing a ton!! pls look forward hehe

Cooking has always been one of your favorite past times. Ever since junior high, you’d step into the kitchen, and watch your mother cook up all kinds of delicacies for your family. Then, you’d try to follow along, copying her steps exactly as she did previously, eventually perfecting a few recipes you’d later bring along to college. You cooked dinners for yourself and occasionally even for your friends as well, becoming a savior for those who stayed up late working on assignments and didn’t manage to have a meal beforehand. You recalled moments when you’d even pack lunches for your closest friends, and bringing along delicious foods during school picnic trips and such. The sound of the knife hitting the chopping board was therapeutic to you, and your heart filled with joy especially as you watched your friends’ expressions light up as the food melted in their mouths and the savory taste spread.

Cooking was also how you got to meet Mingyu. Both of you met in your sophomore year of university, you as a communications major, while he was an architecture major. A smile blooms on your face whenever you recall how he got to know you: after a few nights of someone taking the lunchboxes you liked to leave out in the refrigerator so anyone could just grab one container in case of an emergency, he left a post it note on the now empty lunchbox, his name and phone number written in that messy handwriting of his. You still kept that post it note in one of your old binders for sentimental reasons, for not only did it have his number, he even scrawled on the cheesiest pickup line you’d ever heard, something about a pun on the word “menu”.

But especially today, the calming feeling you get whenever you cook is nowhere to be found. The knife hitting the chopping board as you cut up spring onions and garlic to put into your soup is starting to sound irritating, and Mingyu worriedly watches from beside you, praying you don’t accidentally leave a cut on your fingers with how dazed out you appear to be today. He’s tried multiple times to coax you to leave the cooking to him, but you had insisted on doing it yourself, so now he’s helping you out from the side.

Mingyu’s family is coming over, and while this isn’t the first time you’ve met them and you know how awfully good and kind they are, this is your first time visiting you after you moved in together. You woke up and went down to the grocery store bright and early today, picking up ingredients you need for the dishes you were going to make today. So far, the soup is tasting great and the chicken skewers Mingyu is grilling is not looking burnt, so all is well, except for the overbearing feeling in your heart.

“Baby?” Mingyu’s voice snaps you from your trance, and your arm practically jolts awake. You hum back in response, noticing the worried look in his brown eyes. He replies with, “You stopped stirring for a good two minutes and I can see the salt clumping at the bottom.”

You gasp hearing his words, peering into the clear broth, seeing little rocks of salt swirling at the bottom of the soup, before stirring it up once again, dissolving the spices once again. Mingyu can only shake his head seeing your unusually panicked state, before focusing on his skewers once again.

Mingyu ponders over your being again as he plates his finished dish and places it on the dining table, along with the silverware and plates. In all of the three years he’s known you, not once has he seen you this frazzled and not put together. You weren’t even this much of a mess when you went to take that one final at 8:30 a.m., right after a night of too many shots and being shit-faced drunk on the dance floor. He doesn’t understand why you’re now this nervous as you’re about to be with his parents again, having met them several times before and receiving nothing but compliments on your general being.

Right on time, the doorbell sounds out. And if Mingyu weren’t so occupied with rushing to the door, he would’ve heard your loud gasp.

xx

Upon arrival, Mingyu’s mom unpacks numerous containers of food into your refrigerator, stocking up for the both of you that it seems like you won’t even need to go grocery shopping for the next two months. After you’ve had lunch, Mingyu takes his dad and his sister out to the small but growing garden in your backyard, where you can hear his sister’s giggles as Mingyu patiently explains to her about each potted plant, while his mom chooses to be with you, having some tea.

“How’s living with Mingyu like for you?” Mingyu’s mom asks, smiling warmly as she brings her teacup to her lips, sipping on the steaming tea. You and Mingyu had only started living together for about three months now, and this is the first time his family had come to visit due to clashing schedules between the lot of you.

“It’s alright,” you answer nonchalantly. “I’m more worried about Mingyu knocking over my things to be honest.”

His mom heartily laughs. “If he breaks any of your belongings, I will personally be the one to patch it up,” she jokes, hands wrapping around the teacup, trying to warm up. The door that leads to the garden is left open by Mingyu, and the breeze flows into the dining room area, where you both are languidly talking.

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine with him?” his mom gently asks, worry swimming in her pupils as she reaches for your hand. “I know he can be a handful. If he doesn’t look out for you, then I’ll definitely—”

“Please, it’s fine. He’s amazing— really.”

His mom still doesn’t look quite convinced, her eyebrows scrunched up in concern, and this time you’re the one to gently smile while you tune your glance to Mingyu, where he’s sitting at the patio chairs, in conversation with his dad. “Living with Mingyu’s brought out a side of him I haven’t seen before. He’s super attentive and is always reminding me of the smallest things, like not forgetting to separate the whites with the colored while doing laundry or even turning off the backyard lights. He arrives back at home on time everyday, and sometimes even gets up earlier than I do to cook breakfast for us before he has to leave for rehearsals or recordings. He feels like.. a husband in a sense. He’s really warm and very kind to me.”

A silence hangs in the air as the words sink in Mingyu’s mom and you turn your head back to face her again. “You know,” his mom begins, and you listen attentively, “you already sound like you’re married to him.”

A blush spreads at your cheeks and you laugh out. Recalling your words, you do sound like a loving wife gushing over her just as loving husband, though it was all the truth. Mingyu had been nothing but a great and caring partner since the start of all this. “I’m just being as honest as I can be,” you say as you sip your tea again, “It’s just how he is.”

“And I’m glad about that,” his mom beams back at you.

xx

The rest of the afternoon passes by and it’s time for his family to leave. While Mingyu’s parents fuss over him for the last time, his sister collects you into a hug before she steps out into the front yard, offering last wishes for nothing but a wonderful time afterwards, and maybe even a proposal in the near future, to which you reply with an elbowing on her side. Mingyu happens to catch this moment, and a warm feeling spreads in him.

After you hear their car peel away, you and Mingyu collapse on the couch beside each other, breathing out a large sigh.

“That was too nerve wracking,” you finally let out, resting your head on his shoulder.

Mingyu laughs. “You know, I couldn’t understand why you were so nervous about today. You know how much my parents love you, and Minseo’s becoming so much more comfortable with you.”

You groan at the last bit. You tell him about her teasing you that he might propose to you in the near future, and how it’d feel after just moving in together. Mingyu’s mind flashes to the velvet box he’d hid in one of his shoeboxes, and a smile paints his lips.

Perhaps Minseo’s words weren’t too farfetched after all.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Broken But Still Good

Hello @gothelixar tis I your Secret Sanders! I wrote you two soft/cutesy Moxiety fics because I have no self control. I would of written you more but the holidays got me busy and my family is driving me crazy. Read them in which ever order you like and I hope you enjoy them!!!

He hadn’t meant for it to be a secrete it’s just there was never an opportunity to bring it up in passing conversation so Patton just didn’t say anything. Although, out of all the sides he had been worried about telling Virgil the most about his…hobby. It was very unusual and maybe a little bit creepy, especially for someone like Patton who was so happy, peppy, and rainbows. Virgil and the others saw him in a certain way and he didn’t want their opinions to change just because he had a weird fascination with creepy dolls.

Movies like Chuckie and Annabel didn’t really scare him so much as make him think that, maybe, if the dolls had been loved a little more, they wouldn’t be so mean. Not that he went out of his way to look for haunted dolls but dolls that were broken, torn, or a little worse for wear always had a sort of soft spot in his heart. Sometimes Thomas would go to thrift stores and flea markets with his friends and see a few ruined dolls just dying for a home. Subconsciously, he’d go over and observe them for a bit before casually moving on to something else. But on the inside, the memory of the doll still lingered and Patton was able to manifest it into his reality and add it to his collection. He’d clean them up a bit, make them some decent clothes to wear but he’d never fix their chipped paint or broken arms or balding head. Flaws were part of who we are and Patton though everyone’s flaws, be it physical or internal, were amazing and beautiful. Especially his dolls.

He had been fine to keep his weird little hobby to himself, it wasn’t something important that needed to be discussed with others. Just a fun little side project that Patton like to do in his spare time. But then he and Virgil started dating and Virgil was so nice and understanding and kind of sort of reminded him of his dolls in the sense that he needed a little more love and care and acceptance of his flaws. But Virgil was a very anxious boy who was kind of intimidated by major changes and to Patton this was kind of a big deal. It was a part of himself that nobody knew and that was just so different from what he usually sticks to.

So, he didn’t tell Virgil or the others for a long, long while. Until one day they had a Talk™, Not that they were having major problems it’s just that there were issues that needed to be addressed. Like Patton’s need to bottle up his feelings just to appease others and Virgil’s self-doubt in everything he does, especially in their relationship. It was a very difficult Talk™ but it was also a very good Talk™ that was necessary in moving forward with their relationship. It was also the necessary step forward that Patton needed to finally reveal his secret….to Virgil. Baby steps, first he’ll see how Virgil reacts and if it’s good he’ll show the others but if it’s bad…he’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

“So, what’s this big surprise you wanted to show me?” Virgil asked timidly as Patton lead him up the stairs by the hand.

“Uh, it’s not that big,” Patton assured nervously “just a little surprise, no big deal or anything.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow in suspicion, it was unusual for Patton to be nervous unless he did something wrong, like eat dessert before breakfast. But this was different, much more jittery less guilty, more…anxious.

“You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.” Virgil soothed, pressing up close to his boyfriend as they walked down the hall towards Patton’s room.

“No, no, it’s nothing bad per-say,” Patton quickly said.

“I didn’t think it was bad,” Virgil said calmly, rubbing circles with his thumb on the back of Patton’s hand “it’s just you seem really nervous and if it’s uncomfortable for you, you don’t have to show me now. Or ever if you want to. I just want you to feel safe.”

Patton paused in front of his door, looking straight into Virgil’s eyes with a sort of fiery determination, “No, this is something important to me and…I want to share it with the people I love the most. It’s just…I’m scared that you may see me differently or think I’m weird.”

“Hey,” Virgil said gently, cupping Patton’s cheek “if any one knows a thing or two about being weird it’s me. So, I have no right to judge especially since you’ve been so open minded about my weird quirks.”

Patton sighed a breath of semi-relief, a little calmer now, “Okay, okay.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” Virgil smirked playfully.

“Well, let’s just say it’ll be a doll-ightful surprise.” Patton winked as he opened his room.

Virgil gave him a confused look, even more lost then before but still followed Patton in. The room was the same as always, pictures covering every inch of the room from photos to paintings, boxes and boxes of mementos, and tons of stuffed animals piled high on the bed. It was organized chaos, as Virgil called it, because even if it seemed messy you could always find what you were looking for. More cluttered then anything else.

At first Virgil thought the thing Patton was going to show him was in the room, maybe a quirky new stuffed animal he bought. But then Patton started leading him to the back of the room and then Virgil thought maybe he had a risqué new outfit. Something a bit outside of the “gender norm” that he was a bit too nervous to wear. But instead of leading him to the closet Patton lead them behind a wall of boxes that took them even further back into the room.

Virgil knew that their rooms in the mindscape were infinite but it still surprised him whenever he entered one of the other’s rooms that wasn’t Roman. Roman was creativity and NEEDED the space to create worlds and ideas to help Thomas in his job while the others didn’t really need something so grand. So, most times they tended to stay towards the front of the room, very rarely venturing any further back unless it was necessary. What ever this secret was, was buried deep in Thomas is subconscious, meaning Patton really didn’t want anyone to find out about it.

Finally, they reached a small door that reminded Virgil of the cupboard door from Harry Potter except it was covered in happy stickers and seemed to blend into the background. Virgil hadn’t noticed it until Patton had them stopped in front of it and nervously fiddle with the ends of his shirt.

“You sure about this?” Virgil asked once more “I won’t be upset if you ducked out now.”

“Quack,” Patton chuckled nervously before clearing his throat “but, uh, no, it’s fine. I really do want to share this part me with you Virgil.”

“What ever you want.” Virgil said sincerely.

With a deep breath Patton placed a hand on the door nob but didn’t turn it, instead he said, “Please don’t think I’m a freak.”

“Never gunna happen babe.” Virgil smiled, giving his boyfriend’s hand a squeeze.

Another deep breath, the door swung open and…wall to wall in a large square room lined with shelves sat broken, chipped, and torn dolls. Baby dolls, porcelain dolls, rag dolls, and more were lovingly cleaned and dressed in cozy little sweaters, t-shirts and ribbons. It was surprising to say the least.

“Sooo,” Patton said after a pregnant pause “I collect dolls and obviously not the normal kind. And I know you said you wouldn’t think it was creepy but I knew it was a bit of a farfetched idea so I totally understand if you do think it’s creepy because obviously any normal person would be creeped out by…” He gestures wildly around the room “This! But it’s just whenever I see one, I just think they look so sad and in need of a good home where someone can love them. So, I clean them up and fix them to a degree where they won’t fall apart anymore but I just think they have so much more personality with scars and chipped edges. So, I leave them like that and give them a home with others that they can get along with and understand how they feel and I know they’re inanimate objects that aren’t alive but to me they are! And I know it’s weird and creepy and-”

“I don’t think it’s weird.” Virgil cuts in, the understanding and sincerity in his voice caused the tension in Patton’s shoulders to disappear.

Patton tilted his head to the side in confusion, “You…what?”

Virgil shrugged, “I mean, the dolls are kind of creepy yeah and it wasn’t something I would expect of you but I don’t think you or your hobby are creepy. It’s actually…kind of fitting.”

“How so?” Patton asked curiously.

“Well,” Virgil stepped forward taking both of Patton’s hands in his own “these dolls are broken, sad little things that everyone else in the world thinks belongs in the trash. To them they’re useless and broken and can’t every be loved but you…you see them for them. You see their scars and you adore them because of it, because they’re different.” Virgil looked up at his boyfriend with such admiration and love in his eyes that Patton’s breath caught in his throat. “I love you Patton and I love the fact that you love these dolls despite their outward appearance and have given them a home where they will continue to receive that love forever.”

Patton laughed, tears pricking the edges of his eyes as he leaped forward to engulf Virgil and a giant bear hug. Virgil chuckled in turn as he hugged him back before pulling back and kissing Patton’s forehead.

“So, you’re really okay with this?” Patton asked bashfully.

“So long as you’re happy and it isn’t hurting you or anyone around you, I’m all for it.” Virgil smiled.

“Good, because I would have thought it be a bit of a chip on your shoulder.” Patton winked.

Virgil snorted, “Nah, I thought it was doll-ightfully appealing.”

They laughed and the room seemed much lighter despite the dozens of creepy broken dolls surrounding them. But even then, they didn’t seem all that creepy, maybe Patton was right and all they really needed was a little love and care. Or maybe it was the effect Patton had on him to make everything he does adorable and innocent. Either way the dolls were starting to grow on Virgil.

“So, mind introducing me to everyone?” Virgil asked shyly.

Patton beamed one of his famous light up a room smiles before once again dragging Virgil around to meet all his doll friends. Because of course each one had a name and a personality and something that was just so endearingly Patton.

[imaginemedreamingstuff]

Sneaking Out || Dan Howell

A/N: Another request! yeahy! i didn’t expect this to get so long but it somehow did? I guess I just really liked the idea 

Word Count: 2.1K

POV: Reader

MASTERLIST

“Run!” Dan shouted as he came sprinting towards me. He took me by my arm and dragged me along with him. I didn’t know who or what we were running from I just followed my boyfriend’s commands.  

He seemed to be in a real hurry and kept hectically looking back over his shoulder to check if anybody was following us. Luckily the school corridor was empty since most people were in the cafeteria for lunch break.

“Dan?! Why exactly are we doing this again?” shouted at him after we had taken at least 3 turns and ended up in another empty hallway that lead to our school’s gym.

Dan slowed down his pace until we finally came to a halt. I held my left side that hurt every time I gasped for air. As soon as he had caught his breath, Dan started to mischievously grin at me from ear to ear.

“What…?” I asked, shaking my head while smiling at him. I had seen that exact grin before and let me tell you, I already knew that this certainly meant nothing good.

“There might have been a little uhhhh… ‘paint explosion’ in the cafeteria.” Dan explained, searching for the right words to explain his newest prank.

He started laughing loudly at the thought of it.

“You should have seen it” Dan added as he wiped away tears of joy.

“No way! Oh my god, Dan.”

I didn’t know whether I should laugh, be impressed or scold him. So I just giggled and shook my head at him.

Dan was known for being the prankster of our school. Now that he was a senior and knew that he would leave soon anyway, there was nothing that could hold him back. He talked back to his teachers, told his best jokes and even managed to paint everyone in the cafeteria all colours of the rainbow.

“I’m gonna be in so much trouble if they catch me.” Dan said, still with a smirk on his face.

“Well that’s for sure, Mr Howell.”

I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I slowly turned around. It was the deep voice of our headmaster Mr Travis who was approaching us with a stern and angry look on his face.

“Mr Howell, Miss Y/L/N, my office. NOW!”

I shot Dan a nervous look as we followed the elder man to his office and sat down in front of his big desk.

Before Mr Travis could even say something Dan had already opened his mouth.

“It was all me, Y/N had nothing to do with it.” He nearly shouted.

I was a straight A student and I had never been in trouble before so that didn’t sound too farfetched.

Mr Travis eyed us both intensely.

“Well this may be the first time that I actually believe you, Mr Howell.” He said before he turned his head to look at me.

“Miss Y/L/N I’ll have to call your parents but other than that I can let you off with a warning.” The headmaster explained as his facial expression softened a little bit and I felt myself relax.

Dan on the other hand got a few weeks of detention and was lucky that he didn’t get suspended, but he was used to that. He didn’t seem to mind at all, no he was just happy that I wasn’t punished for something I didn’t even do.

But once I got home there was no use in explaining to my parents that I didn’t do anything. All they cared about was that the headmaster called home and that was apparently the worst thing that could have ever happened.

“We didn’t raise you like this, young lady! Do you even know how disappointed I was when I got that call telling me that you got in trouble?”

I opened my mouth to protest but before I could even say something my dad continued, speaking over me with finality in his voice.

“You’re grounded, Miss. 2 weeks, no phone. Understood?”

I stormed up to my room with my head hanging low and slammed the door shut behind me. Well that was it then.

This was how I would have to spend the next two weeks: getting up, going to school, coming home, spending the day alone in my room, no friends, no going out, no phone. And the worst: no dates with Dan, I’d only be able to see him in school and we didn’t even have a lot of classes together since he was a grade above me.

At least I had plenty of time to do my homework now, right?

‘Oh c’mon Y/N, there’s nothing that can make this sound good.’ I thought to myself as I fell down onto my bed with a sigh.  

“I’m so stupid. This is all my fault, I’m so sorry.” Dan apologised and kissed the top of my head as soon as I told him that I was grounded in school the next day. He seemed to be extremely mad at himself.

“I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, baby.” He said with a pout.

“All we did was go for a run together, as far as I know there’s nothing wrong about that.” I riposted and even laughed a little.

“Your parents suck.” Dan muttered underneath his breath but it was still loud enough for me to hear it.

“Hey!” I started to protest but stopped myself mid-sentence. “Yeah.. you’re kinda right.” I admitted quietly, making Dan laugh and throw his arm around me.

A week into being grounded I was desperately waiting for this horror to end. This was so unfair, I missed hanging out with my friends and doing things besides going to school. But my parents wouldn’t let me go no matter how much I defended myself or complained.

Today was Friday, normally I’d be at Dan’s place for a movie night but since I couldn’t leave the house I just decided to go to bed early for once.

It was around 1 am when I heard a slight tapping sound that woke me up. At first I just switched my sleeping position and tried to fall asleep again, but then it happened again and again.

I groaned as I got out of bed and walked towards my window where the noise was coming from. I pushed the curtain out of the way and to my surprise I saw Dan standing in our garden and his black car in our drive way.

The weird noise I heard was actually him throwing little rocks at the glass. I couldn’t help but smile happily as I yanked the window open.

“What are you doing here?!” I whisper-shouted, as he smirked up at me.

“I’m here to rescue you, baby.”  He answered a little bit too loud, considering the fact that my parents were asleep in the room below mine.

“Psst! I don’t want you to wake up mum and dad.” I warned him.

“I almost forgot, sorry..” Dan apologized, scratching the back of his head.

We kept smiling at each other, glad to be able to see each other again. God, did I miss him.

“So are you coming?” Dan asked with a cheeky grin.

“Wait- what?” I stuttered in confusion.

“We’re going on an adventure! You’ve been locked up in your room for way too long now and I miss my amazing girlfriend.”

His words sounded perfect but I was still unsure. If my parents caught us I would be totally screwed. Dan could tell that I was hesitant.

“C’mon! Live a little.” Dan tried his best not to shout.

I nervously bit my lip before I nodded determinately.

“You’re right!” I agreed and quickly threw on a few clothes over my pyjamas.

I really needed to take more risks, I couldn’t just say no to an adventure just because I was a ‘good girl’. There was a whole life out there that was waiting for me to fully live it.

I tiptoed down the stairs to the front door, trying to make as little noise as possible. It was so awfully quiet that even my breathing sounded loud to me.

When I got outside, Dan was already waiting for me in his car. I quickly hopped in and let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Oh my god, I’m sneaking out.” I gasped and couldn’t help but giggle at my sudden ‘boldness’.

“It’s so nice to see you again. I’m so proud of you, princess.” Dan whispered and winked shortly before he kissed me as a hello.

He started the engine and slowly made his way out of my drive way and onto the road. It was heavenly to spend some alone time with him again.  

“So… where are we going?” I asked him after we had been driving for a while.

“Anywhere and everywhere.”

After about 20 minutes we had reached the centre of the city. There were lights, neon signs, crowds of people and music sounded from a few bars and clubs. The city was still buzzing with live unlike the little street that I lived in. There were still quite a few people out and about, it was a Friday night after all.

Dan and I decided to go for a little sightseeing trip. We drove to all of the famous spots and tourist attractions our own city could offer. It was weird visiting them at night when there were no tourists around but there was something so unique about it that for a few hours it felt like time had stopped.

Dan I took selfies in front of a big fountain, an odd sculpture that was located in a park, a museum that we had never been to, a skyscraper that looked pretty and even in front of the local football club’s stadium.

We giggled like kids each time we hopped out of the car and took our phones out, just to take a really silly picture of ourselves.

Afterwards we just drove through random streets and even though Dan and I grew up in this city, we still discovered so many places that we had never seen before.

“What about some pizza?” Dan suggested with enthusiasm as he spotted a little pizza shop that was still open.

15 minutes later Dan had driven us up a little hill so we had a nice view of the city from above. There were two pizza cartons balanced on my lap and I handed one to my boyfriend as soon as he had turned off the car engine.

The sight was just purely beautiful and I was overwhelmed by all of the city lights.

One of Dan and I’s favourite CD was playing and the pizza tasted delicious.

I couldn’t even remember the last time I had so much fun.

“Thank you for taking me on this adventure, Dan.” I said once we were both full and just enjoying the view together.

“Anything for you, babygirl.” He said and placed a kiss onto my lips.

I automatically started running my fingers through his brown hair as I felt his hands travelling to my hips.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” Dan whispered against my lips as he pulled me into him more.

Even though he had told me a million times I still blushed.

I carefully climbed onto his lap as he moved his seat back so we had more space between us and the steering wheel.

Dan’s warm breath fanned my neck as he started to lightly suck on my soft skin.

I slowly traced his chest with my hand earning a deep groan of his once my hands had reached his crotch.

“Backseat?” was all he managed to say while his hands roamed my body and he was already pulling on my shirt, eager to take it off…

Dan was the first one to wake up after we had fallen asleep together.

“Y/N... the sun is rising.” He said, tapping my shoulder.

I stared out of the car window and was amazed by the sight. There were pastel colours everywhere and the sun was a deep orange that coloured the city.

“Wow it’s so pretty” I whispered still lying in Dan’s arms.  

“Well it is, but that’s not what I meant. We need to get you home before your parents are up.”

Suddenly I was fully awake again and my eyes widened in shock. We quickly got dressed and headed back home as fast as possible.

Just to be careful Dan parked on the side of the road a few houses down the street and we walked the rest. As I took as quick glance through our kitchen window I could see that my parents were already up and ate breakfast. My heart sank to my knees. This was it, I was totally screwed.

“Shit, what am I gonna do?” I panicked and looked at Dan for help.

“Well…you’re room has a window, right?”

[underoossss]

Freaky Friday - Part One

Part Two

Peter and the reader, friends since they were kids, wake up one Friday morning in the body of the other one, not knowing who did it or how it happened, they have to go through the day as the other until they figure out how to switch each other back. What they don’t know is that the key to switching back to their normal-selves is to admit their true feelings for each other. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader 

Warnings: nada 

A/N: this is my first Peter fic and I’ve been nervous to post it but here it is! It wasn’t a request, it just came to me one night and I started writing. This will have two parts and I hope you guys like it!

Sometimes you wake up and immediately know it’s not your day. Well, now imagine that feeling and waking up realizing you’re not you.

I groaned as the alarm next to me went off signaling another day of high school, I rolled over to my left but didn’t find it there. What the hell? My alarm is always to my left. Opening my eyes, I looked to my right and found the clock but that wasn’t my alarm clock. The sound was annoying me so extending my arm I promptly shut it off gasping when I saw my hand. It wasn’t mine! I know this hand, why do I have Peter’s hand!?

Taking a deep breath, I looked down at my body not helping the scream that left my mouth at what I saw. This is Peter Parker’s body, with the nerdy Star Wars PJ’s and all. The door suddenly flew open making me jump as Aunt May stepped inside in panic, “What happened!?” She said out of breath.

“Uh… I-I had a,” I stopped talking and started panicking at Peter’s voice coming out of my mouth. I’m losing my mind.

“A what honey?” Aunt May stepped closer, concern written all over her face as she ran a hand through my hair.

“A nightmare. Y-yeah, a nightmare, that’s why I screamed.” I nodded mostly to myself before looking up at her and giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Alright. Now hurry up, you gotta get to class. Do you want some toast?” She asked as she reached the doorway and I nodded again moving to seat by the edge of the bed.

 “Thanks, May.” I said as she closed the door before running to find Peter’s phone. After a quick search I found it on his desk, unlocking it and finding my contact name at once. Y/N and a heart emoji next to it, my heart almost jumped out of my chest. Peter has a heart next to my name? No! Focus right now, have farfetched dreams later. I hit the camera icon and waited as the facetime call connected, gasping again when I saw myself answering the call.

 “Holy fuck you’re me!” I whispered shouted

 “And I’m talking to myself!” He shouted back.

 “Peter what the hell is going on! Why am I you and you are me?!”

 “I I don’t know, I went to sleep last night in my room and woke up in yours!” He ran a hand through his hair wincing when his fingers got stuck in what was probably a knot. Long hair problems.

“The same happened to me! Did we drink something? W-why are we switched.” I started pacing Peter’s room trying to calm down. We can’t solve this over facetime and in pajamas, we also have class. The freaking out will have to wait a while.

“Ok here’s what we’re gonna do. Breakfast and then we meet up downstairs like always before we go to school.” I closed my eyes letting out a sigh before looking back at Peter er… myself. No, let’s just go with Peter, that’s Peter.

“Alright,” Peter said frowning, probably sensing my unease about this whole thing, “Meet me in 10?”

I nodded giving him a smile, “Yeah, see you in ten. And please brush my hair before going out, it’s a bird’s nest.”

 Peter let out a laugh and nodded, “Will do.”

 I went to the bathroom after the call disconnected, immediately losing my breath at my reflection. There in the mirror the beautiful brown eyes of Peter Parker were staring at me making me fall in love with him all over again. I shook my head and took the toothbrush along with the toothpaste. I soaked it in water before closing my eyes and starting to brush my teeth, knowing that if I kept staring at Peter’s face in the mirror I wouldn’t get anything done.

Ten minutes later I was saying bye to aunt May and kissing her cheek before rushing out the door and downstairs to wait for Peter who still wasn’t there. After a couple of minutes, I heard rushing footsteps and turned around to Peter struggling to put my hair up in a ponytail.

“How do you do this?” He asked me with a hair tie between his teeth making me laugh.

“Come here, I’ll help,” I beckoned him over and took my hair in my hands splitting it in three and braiding it loosely. “There,” I said nudging his arm so he can pass me the hair tie, “All set. Let’s go.”

“Thanks.” He gave me a small smile which I returned.

“No problem.”

We started walking to school like we always did, side by side. We stayed silent for a while before Peter cleared his throat.

“Any ideas on how this happened?” He asked looking down at the ground and I shook my head.

“Any ideas on how to switch us back?” I glanced towards him and saw him shake his head no with a sigh. 

“We’ll have to pretend to be each other until we find a way to switch us back, then.” I sighed this time as we stopped waiting for the light to change. How did we get into this mess.

“Hey,” Peter whispered making me focus back on him, “We’ll find a way.” His eyes were soft trying to reassure me and I nodded. Let’s hope so, I feel like Narcissus being in love with the guy in my reflection.

“Can’t tell Ned though, he’ll freak out more than we did this morning.” I nodded again knowing well enough how hyped Ned would be if he found out, which isn’t always a good thing.

Soon enough we were in the hallway walking towards Ned who was waiting for Peter by his locker.

“Hey guys!” He smiled at both of us.

“Hey,” I said trying to act like Peter as much as I could and giving him one of those ‘bro hugs’ they greeted each other with.

“Hey Ned,” Peter said next to me moving to put the combination on his locker pausing slightly when he realized his mistake. “Ha! Told you I knew your combination, Pete.” He smiled at me and I gotta say, smooth save but still unusual.

“And I’m pretty sure I told you that I know yours too,” I chuckled checking the schedule on the door before taking out the Spanish and English Lit books.

“Of course you know it. (Y/N) used to forget her combination all the time remember? We learned it to help her if it happened.”

I blushed remembering my clumsiness. “Yeah but I still remember it,” I nudged Ned’s shoulder trying to look casual but I’m sure I was failing horribly at that.

 Peter smiled pointing over his shoulder to where my locker was, “Prove it.”

 I closed his locker and walked towards mine putting in the combination and opening it easily. “Told you,” I said looking at Ned who was narrowing his eyes at both of us.

 “Ok… you’re acting weird today, more than usual.” He told the both of us. What? I thought we were doing great!

 The bell rang causing us to part ways, Peter and Ned went to History while I walked towards English Lit. My phone buzzed with a text so I took it out pausing my walking for a bit to see the notification on the screen.

 I don’t walk like that – Y/N

 What is that supposed to mean? I looked down at my feet, before walking again not noticing anything weird.

 I sent Peter a shrugging emoji before I sat down and waited for the class to start. English went on normally, since Peter was just as good as me at it. The problem, however, came in Spanish because I sucked at Spanish and Peter well… Peter being good at Spanish was an understatement.

 I was so embarrassed when every time the teacher needed an answer, everyone looked at me expecting me to have it. Or when the teacher made me answer and I tripped over the words. I sure as hell didn’t make speaking Spanish sound sexy like Peter does, I must sound like a dying cat.

The nightmare that was this class ended eventually and the bell for lunch rang. I thanked that Spanish was over almost a thousand times under my breath before gathering my things and starting to walk out of the classroom.

 “Penis Parker!!” Flash said blocking my way on the door, “Nice work in there. You sucked!” He started laughing.

I glared at him. It’s no secret that it has always bothered me how much Flash bullies Peter and I always give him my piece of mind. My blood boiled so much once, that I ended in detention for giving Flash a black eye during freshman year. That said, I wasn’t about let him bother me in this case with even the slightest comment.

“I’m guessing bilingualism isn’t a requisite for the Stark internship. Or maybe it is, and this is proof of why you don’t actually have an internship in the first place.” He starts stepping forward, trying to look tough but I step forward instead of backwards.

“Actually it’s not. But not being an asshole is the main pre-requisite so I’m afraid you wouldn’t even qualify, asshole.” I take another step forward giving him a mock frown before glaring again, “Now move out of my way before I lose my patience, trust me it’s not fun.”  

 He was so taken aback that he wordlessly stepped aside. “Nice choice.” I said smiling before walking out and going to the cafeteria where I met Ned.

 “Hey man.” He smiled from his spot in line.

 “Hey.” I greeted back, stepping behind him and grabbing a food tray. “How was history?” I asked, making small talk and wanting to know what I missed today.

 “Pretty interesting, we started world religions today,” He said while we picked our food, “I thought Y/N would be excited but she seemed bored during the whole class.”

 “But she loves history!” I tried to sound surprised but I knew fully well that Peter hated that class. Honestly, I felt a little better knowing that Peter wasn’t enjoying my classes just like I wasn’t enjoying his so far.

 “I know, that’s why I found it so weird.”

 We sat down at our usual table and started eating in comfortable silence. Alright its lunch, what does Peter usually do now? Liz! There’s Liz, he always stares at Liz. I frowned as a mix jealousy and sadness churned in my stomach before shaking it off and focusing. This is who Peter likes and I have to accept that.

 I leaned my head on my hand trying to recreate Peter’s love-struck look and staring at Liz who was chatting with some of her friends. She’s so pretty and smart and so nice to everyone of course Peter likes her and that’s okay, yeah, totally fine because Liz is nice and Peter deserves someone like her, but my name has a heart emoji on his phone. Yeah but it probably doesn’t mean anyth-

 “Uh, why are you staring at Liz?” Ned asked confused, making me turn to face him.

 “I always stare at Liz.” I said simply, I mean it’s pretty obvious.

 “No you don’t, you always-”

 “Hey guys!” Peter said coming to seat with us in a perfect copy of what I always did. Putting my backpack aside, opening the carton of milk, opening a book and eating the fruit first. How is he doing it so well?

 I focused back on my food, not noticing the glances Peter sneaked in my direction unlike Ned who did notice and decided to speak up.

 “Something’s off about you two today, you’re different.” He said looking between both of us.

 “Wha-what do you mean?” We ask at the same time. Could we be more obvious?

 “I don’t know, something’s changed about you that’s all.” He shrugs so I decide to try and cover our asses.

 “Well I-I feel different, a good different,” I mumble loud enough for them to hear me. My gaze goes to Peter’s, “I stood up to Flash today.”

 There was a moment of silent as both of them stared at me dumbfounded and I laughed, “Is that so hard to believe?” I asked offended.

 Probably, I think to myself.

 “Dude,” Ned said appreciatively and I laughed again before the bell rang signaling lunch was over. We started gathering our stuff before walking to Chemistry which the three of us had together.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Peter said as the class started, turning slightly on his stool at our lab table, “And I have some ideas about how we got switched.”

 “Really?” I asked glancing sideways seeing him nod, “Alright, I’m all ears.” I smile.

“My bet is that this is probably a dream, but also it could be that we somehow stepped through a portal or something and that’s what switched us for the other. Or maybe we went to a parallel dimension when we’re actually the other. Or, someone switched our brains while we slept last night.” He whispered moving his stool closer and I laughed silently at his crazy ideas and thanking whoever is up there for this dork I have for a best friend, knowing he was trying to avoid the both of us panicking because of the situation we were in.

 “They’re all pretty convincing,” I said finally when I finished laughing. I stole a glance to the front to check if the teacher had noticed us talking, she hadn’t, “However one of those is too far-fetched.”

 “The brain switching one, right?”

 “Yeah,” I smiled again, “My money is on the parallel dimension though.”

 “I’m going for the portal, that way we can find it and change each other back.” Peter smiled back at me and for a second my worries stopped and I knew that even if it took time, we could figure this out.

 We parted ways after chemistry during the last period since I had biology but soon enough the bell rang through the hallways signaling that the school day was over. I walked to Peter’s locker putting his combination, which I wrote on my hand, and leaving the books he won’t need. After a minute or so Peter jogs to my side with two books under his arm and the braid I fixed this morning almost falling apart.

 “We made it through the day.” I smiled raising my hand for a high five which he returned with a chuckle.

 “We did,” He grins before patting the two books he was holding, “You’ve got history and statistics homework by the way.”

 I groan, “Not statistics, I hate statistics. I swear Mr. Mitchell always chooses the worst time to send homework. Sometimes I’m so bus-” I suddenly stop talking, my eyes widening.

 “Y/N, wh-what’s wrong?” Peter asked stepping closer, a hand on my shoulder.

 "Your internship, -the Stark internship! What are we gonna do? I can’t go, I’m not smart enough for that.”

 Peter gave my shoulder a slight squeeze, “Hey, it’s okay I don’t have the internship today.”

 I’m sure I gave him the most confused look I could muster, “What? Are you sure?”

 He always has the internship, he goes even on Sundays!

 “A hundred percent sure. No internship today.” He nodded but I still narrowed my eyes.

 “But-”

 “Come on let’s head home,” He said cutting me off and starting to walk towards the entrance but pausing when he saw I wasn’t following him, “It’s this way, Y/N.”

 “Actually, it’s this way Pete. We have decathlon meeting, come on.” I smiled rolling my eyes.

 “Oh. Decathlon, right.” He said scratching the back of his neck.

 “I don’t do that,” I laughed when he blushed, “Although, I gotta say, you’ve played a better me that me.”

 “No I haven’t,” He shakes his head looking away and I link my arm with his letting the topic go.

 “Alright, whatever you say Peter.”

We got to the meeting and Flash didn’t even glance our way, making me smile smugly to myself. We took our usual places as Liz started to hand out outlines of different topics and questions we should work on during the weekend before the next meeting. The meeting was nice like always but pretty uneventful and almost two hours later Peter and I walked back to the apartment building after stepping off the train.

 “We should switch backpacks too,” Peter said all of a sudden after being deep in thought, “You know, so you can do the history and statistics homework and I can do whatever my assignments are.”

 I nodded slipping off his backpack from my shoulders, makes sense. “You have biology test and homework, that’s about it.” I said handing him the bag which he quickly took making me furrow my brows for a second.

 “Umm… alright?” I took my backpack as he handed it to me, “You coming over tonight?”

 "Yeah, how about around 7?“ He asked as I started walking backwards to his apartment. He did the same but towards the staircase.

 “Seven’s fine.” I nodded, a smile on my face which he easily returned.

 To say that staying at Peter’s apartment without him there was kinda weird, was an understatement. Once I let myself in, I left my backpack on the couch before going to the kitchen. I smiled as I found that aunt May had left food on the fridge to heat up so I put it on the microwave and sat on the counter waiting for the timer to go off as I looked around the empty apartment.

 It was so quiet, the complete opposite of when Ned, Peter and I hang out here. The beeping from the microwave brought me back to the present and I hopped off the counter to get the food and a fork. I went to sit on the couch and ate silently, wondering how Peter was doing upstairs and what my mom cooked today. As always a smile made its way to my face, thinking about Peter constantly had that effect. I looked down at the navy blue sweater I was wearing and blushed. I may or may not had put it on this morning self-indulgently because I loved seeing Peter wearing this color. How could I not when it made his eyes and his brown curls stand out so much. My mind then started to wonder again, how come Peter didn’t have the internship today? it was so weird to see him so relaxed about it and not bummed out. He loves that internship! He goes every single day without complaints and then all of a sudden he has a day off? Something was off about it but I decided not to dwell on it too much, there were more important things to worry about. Specially the statistics homework on my backpack.

 Sighing I walked to the kitchen again, washed the dish I used and drank some water before picking up my backpack. I took out my statistics book and notebook along with the history book. I looked for my highlighters and pens before walking towards to Peter’s room to start working and being my clumsy self I tripped with his desk chair when I walked through the door.

 I cursed under my breath, rubbing my knee before I started picking up everything I dropped during the fall. I placed the books and pens on the desk before sitting down and noticing one of my highlighters was missing. Standing up again I started to look around the room and found it by Peter’s closet so I bend over to grab it when my eyes catch blue fabric next to it. Furrowing my brows I pick it up and gasp at what I find. A Spiderman suit, why does Peter have a Spiderman suit? I didn’t know he was a fan. Or could he? No, no it can’t be. I’m his best friend of course I’d noticed if he was a superhero, this is just a costume. A very detailed costume that’s probably for cosplaying, right?  

 Yeah a costume, I repeat to myself, so if I press this button right here nothing will happen. Right? I turn around and close my eyes after aiming for the door before pressing the shooter. At the sound of a yelp I open my eyes and gasp once more as I see myself, no, Peter. Oh goddammit. Peter was webbed to the door from the spiderweb this suit just shot. So that means…

 I stare at Peter with wide eyes, my mouth probably hanging open.

 “I can explain!”

tag list: @tomllholland @x-parker-holland-x @spideychelle-romanogers @sir-stilinski 💕

[fmlfpl]

Lineup Lamentations - GW7

Our Transfers, Captains, and Starting 11s for the week!

—

WALSH

TRANSFERS:

OUT: McGinn

IN: Mount

Okay fam, I fucked up this week.

Hands in the air this one is on me but I fucked myself by not moving on Wednesday before price changes where both Tammy and Mount went up so I am 0.1 away now from doing the double swap.

Was waiting for all the cup games to end and then was planning on getting Tammy in before his rise...totally forgot... Mount rose as well and so fuck me. Vacation mode throwing me properly off over here so what can I do? I am but a flawed human and I will live with the consequences of my dumbassedry.

Ultimately I am feeling that removing McGinn is better than removing Haller especially with this news that Lanzini has been training and is back. I just don't think Villa look very good in general and will continue to seriously struggle for goals even though McGinn has good underlying numbers and shit I think he's just a bit meh.

Haller has been bad but looks incredible irl eye test and so who knows the fixture is pretty good from an attacking sense maybe I get really lucky here but I will not tell you all any lies... it feels fucking bad to not have Tamela in this moment. I did contemplate a hit to get Tam in but ultimately felt like it had more of a chance to blow up in my face than work out gangbusters so I'm going to just do the one move...float...and check out what is what next gameweek with two frees after UCL and shit. Seems okay...

Who am I kidding? complete nightmare disaster I'm dumb and I hate myself.

GK:

Pope (avl)

Pope remains from GW1 after popping back into the good graces with a clean last week. Still great fixtures and he's great so an easy hold set and forget type of lad. Good boy Pope.

DEF:

Three at the back for me this gameweek in an unusual turn of events for my squadron.

Alexander-Arnold & Robertson (shu)

Trent and R0bbo go to Sheffield United in what should be a clean banker. If Sheffu can only muster two shots against Everton then not expecting fireworks here against Livp. Granted they are home...but still..come on. Get it done here boys...time for another clean.

Otamendi (eve)

Third guy is NicoOta who somehow just threw up a ridiculous haul last game. Maybe the answer is just Dinho in and they'll keep cleaning like we thought they would. Who knows. I don't and I still think (read: know) Ota is a nightmare but at the moment the price is right and the nail is on.

At Everton suddenly seems like a dreamland fixture as they drag their feet until their manager gets the sack lunch. Get in.

MID:

Salah (shu) & Sterling & De Bruyne (eve)

Still on the three big boppers Mo, Raz, and Kevin.

All three great guys, I’m happy to see people selling Raz hope he drops 1m in price he is going nowhere from my team little razzy baby will come back with a vengeance to punish the non believing heathens.

Mo looked really bad and off it last game so hopefully his touch is back and he can do something this weekend.

Mount (BHA)

New boy Mount goes for me and it feels nice to be part of the mounted cavalry division. Nice little fixture run and still a good price. I really want to get in Maddo soon but Mount seems basically the same thing with a bit lower price no knock and better fixtures at least for right now.

Not sure why I'm talking about Maddo here but I am so that's cool.

Cantwell (cry)

Finally, Todd goes to Selhurst in what should be a who knows what the fuck it will be kind of a game. I could see anything from 0-0 snoozefest worst thing of life to a 4-2 barn burner. Either way, I believe in Todd and I love Todd so I'm going to throw him out in the XI for the near term and see how he rolls.

FWD:

Pukki (cry)

Pukki still in of course..good guy still is good.

Haller (bou)

Haller still in as well...yikes. Pretty massively and utterly terrified of not owning Tammy even more so typing this out now so just gotta hope I get away with it. Eek.

CAP:

Sterling (eve)

Raz gets the armband again.

Was chatting about it in Slack just before typing up lambs and the honest truth of the matter is if I twist off Raz cap after all these weeks of mental anguish to see him spike this game at Goodison I would just be completely beside myself with grief.

I don't want that, so I'm going to just stay with the boy and hope he wakes up on the right side of the bed tomorrow and destroys Everton.

—

ALON

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Diop

IN: Tomori

I wavered back and forth on this one because Diop and West Ham have kept three cleans in a row and have really good home bankers coming up and all that good shit.... BUTTTTTTTT... they’re still bad at defending. They really are. The cleans have been nice but felt pretty lucky. They had Manchester United which is arguably best cleansheet fixture in the league and I got my points and so now I’m bailing.

Tomori has almost identical home fixtures to Diop coming up and I’m taking a swing that with Kante back (and Rudiger soon) they are a better team and better defense then West Ham... So in the equal home fixtures I prefer Tomori and then in the aways I feel like West Ham have relatively no chance at a clean (for example this week away to Bournemouth I see them conceding two or three) whereas Tomori and Chelsea away Southampton and away Burnley and away Watford coming up I’m like yeah I could see it, maybe clean one of those if I’m lucky clean two of those? That seems not farfetched to me.

It’s fucking weird buying a defender for a team with no cleans but comparatively to West Ham I think I’m getting in a step ahead here and hopefully it pays me back :)... Come on you Fikayo.

GK:

Gunn (tot)

Spurs are kind of shit but also this is like a 1% chance of a clean for Gunn.

My biggest mistake on Wildcard was not finding the 0.1 somewhere (SEE: MARTIN KELLY) and going Pope over Gunn but honestly I’m just gonna stick by Angus “Gunn to my head” Gunn through these difficult fixtures and just hope he racks up some saves and bones and the odd clean here and there and then their fixtures turn in GW12 and maybe it’ll all be fine.

Maybe.

DEF:

Tomori (BHA)

Good cleanable fixture. Not AMAZING but a solidly good clean shout at home. Come on lad.

Lowton (avl)

Another solid clean shout here.

Away is obviously tougher but Aston Villa struggle to create big chances and with how deep Burnley set up it will be tough to get behind them and counter them... I feel like a defensive howler from Mee or Tarko will be Villa’s best chance of the game. Hopefully it comes clean for me.

Söyüncü (NEW)

The fucking kid. I love Soy so much.

This should be a very straight forward clean. Hopefully Soy doesn’t do something absolutely insane and concede a penno for no reason and it’s just an easy job with bones and shit. Come on SoyyyyyBoyyyyyLadddddd.

MID:

Salah (shu), Sterling & De Bruyne (eve)

Lottttt of aways this week for me which does not feel terrific at all.

Salah is easiest hold ever despite a bit of a slow start underlying numbers.

Raz had his 0 minutes played early doors and should be back in there firing on all cylinders and Kevin requires no words. If ya didn’t jump immediately on Kevin after GW1 or GW2 then we haven’t been watching the same shit and you clearly don’t listen to a word that Walsh and I say so fuck you anyways.

Cantwell (cry)

The aways just keep coming and I don’t like it...

Palace are tough to break down but they’re also WAY worse at home and love nothing more but conceding possession... This will be a really really interesting game to see how Norwich do when they have ~65% of the ball and have to break down the Woy bus factory.

I expect good things but I’m a little nervous.

FWD:

Agüero (eve)

Kun is real good.

Pukki (cry)

Check what I said above about Todd and apply the same down here to Teemu.

Abraham (BHA)

Tammy is putting up gigantic elite numbers and I see no reason why that won’t continue. Outside of Man City Tammy has the best non-penalty expected goals per 90 in the entire league. Ya love to see it.

The one caveat that I have is that Brighton are pretty good.

BHA have middle of the pack defensive numbers despite facing Man City already this season and they just seem solidly like a mid-table maybe top 10 team.

Potter is great and has completely transformed how they set up and play and they’re just good. People thinking that this will be a Chelsea easy walk in the park 4-0 ass fucking I think are very misguided and relying too much on the color of the fixture on the FPL site and not using data, team stats, brains, etc...

CAP:

Agüero (eve)

This did not take me long to sort out. Kun is on fire, City are the best attacking team in the world as usual, and Everton aren’t great. Hopefully Kun hauls in a loss then I’m in dreamland ;)...

It’s a bummer that it’s away but he’s still Kun and can score a hat trick vs. any non-Liverpool opponent away from home. You might call me not a home/away splits believer.

Come on Kun do it baby boy, Everton are ripe for a destruction... And if City score early the fucking pitchforks will be out at Goodison and Silva and the Everton players should crumble under the immense negativity and booing and horribleness.

—

NOT RANDOM SLACKER: DEREK

Fresh off of IRL pod we assigned Lambs this week to the one and only Derek.

TRANSFERS:

OUT: Coleman

IN: Otamendi

Mentioned on the pod, easy transfer: defender on terrible looking Everton team for an attacking City defender with a great fixture run for the same price.

Seamus got me a couple cleans early and had some great chances for a dong but at this moment cannot be more thrilled to take him out of my team.

This was my plan since before last GW.. sucks I missed Ota's absurd game vs. Twatford but regardless, I'm very happy with this pick.

GK:

Pope (avl)

New friend to the team last week brought me a clean sheet. Hoping for the same this week with Villa away.

Burnley has a nice run coming so expecting some cleans from him.

DEF:

Otamendi (eve)

New transfer in.

I don't love him as a defender and we all know he's struggled at times this year but with Dinho seemingly slotted to the LCB position I’m hoping City can stay relatively tight and keep some cleans on this run.

And with Kevin's super precise set piece deliveries so far this year (and all the time when he is healthy and right), I'm expecting Ota to continue to find his head on some of these balls for some more dongs.

Robertson and van Dijk (shu)

Two lads who have been on my team since GW1.

At this point, cleans haven't been plentiful like how I imagined but a goal and two assists from them is still solid and I expect Liverpool to improve on the defensive front. Sheffield should be staying pretty tight in the back at home so this fixture feels very cleanable.

MID:

Sterling and De Bruyne (eve)

Just two guys on the most potent, explosive attacking team in the league. It's time tor Raz to get some returns for the first time since GW3. Yikes.

Salah (shu)

Mo will be Mo and continue to do Mo things AKA return return return. Even having a shitty ass game like last week, he still got me an assist.

Mount (BHA)

I've had the Fat Frank loving youngster since GW3 and he's price risen 6 times since then which is wild but still think he's a great value pick for those who do not have him.

On the year he has 3 goals in 6, constantly finds himself in the box with good chances, and with this great fixture run coming up, I expect him to continue to tick.

FWD:

Pukki (cry)

Palace away doesn't feel great, but Pukki has proven he can score in any fixture so hoping he delivers me one here.

Abraham (BHA)

Coming off a late push at Stamford Bridge last week versus the league leaders, Chelsea should continue with their offensive prowess vs Brighton back at home.  Although I don't expect Tammy's absurd finishing efficiency to continue at this rate, his physicality and quickness in the box is here to stay which will continue to yield him good opportunities and big chances.

Plus with up-and-down-the-wing god Marcos A. slotted in at left back with Emerson out, Tammy should be getting some great service in the air.  Love having two offensive players from the same team cause the dreams and realization of an assist-dong combo is just the best actual feeling in all of FPL.

Greenwood (ARS)

Taking a chance here going with my other Mason: the 17 year old United striker..feels especially risky with him playing 90' midweek in the cup match.

He has yet to start in a league game this year, but has started in both games outside of the league and has a goal in each of them. With Rashford's groin injury and Martial seemingly dead for eternity (I won't believe he's healthy til I see him on the team sheet), OGS has limited options up top so realllly hoping he gives the kid a chance this week at Old Trafford for his first league start.

From the little I've seen from Greenwood, seems like he is not shy to shoot and with Paul hopefully back maybe the team can progress the ball better and develop some offensive threat again..we shall see.

CAP:

Sterling (eve)

I'm going with Raz for the fifth GW in a row.

We all know what he's capable of..sitting the whole 90' on the bench or scoring a hatty. Hoping for the latter in the away fixture at Goodison cause I think City are gonna have their way with the Toffees. I'd be lying if I said I'm not scared captaining Raz considering he played 70+ minutes midweek in the cup and UCL coming up next week but fuck it.

Weird to see him drop in price two times in a week and seeing some captain polls, kinda feels like a slight differential captain.  Vice will be on Mo.

[strongbeautifulfulloflight]

Better Late Than Never

This one is for my beautiful adoptive “little brother” and Henrik stan, @megansarah11 who gifted me this prompt during a bout of writer’s block:

Prompt: Caroline is Henrik’s Daycare teacher and Klaus is his guardian. She falls in love with Henrik before falling in love with Klaus. Henrik is shy at first so she eases into comfort by reading to him…

So here are the things you need to know: 

- This is an AH – All Human – drabble. - It’s going to be in a couple of parts because inspiration kind of went rampant. - For the sake of the prompt, Henrik is aged down, but the rest of the OGs will stay their respective ages. Which, technically, isn’t too farfetched considering Rebekah and Kol are biologically 17 and 18. So yeah! Happy reading! _______________________________________________________________________ PART ONE:

Tap, tap, tap went Caroline’s foot. It was 3:09 p.m., rendering her beyond impatient. And with just cause. It had been a long day, filled with ABCs, 123s, spills, stains, and ultimately, really sore feet. She should have learned by now that pumps were an inappropriate choice for Kindergarten, but she’d be damned if she gave up her dignity for a bunch of five-year-olds. The last few straggling parents convened in their usual circle by the playground their children had scampered toward the second the bell rang at 2:50 p.m. They were the elite – the in-crowd socialites of the parenting world who had nothing but time to stand around gossiping about their mommy blogging, their latest trendy diets, dating scandals in the community, or the secretive newcomers to Mystic Falls – the Mikaelsons. The construction on their mansion had taken a few short months and had the town abuzz with speculation. Who were they? What did they do? How much money did they have and why take up residency in their small town? They were seen in glimpses but never all together. The youngest was a five year old and the eldest was in his thirties. There were a handful of them, at least one teen aged female, and one male who didn’t resemble the others but there was no certainty as to whom was family and who was not. When there didn’t appear to be a mother figure, the rumors started. They were gays who liked to adopt; they were orphans; they were gypsies; they had been abducted by aliens! The less they saw of the Mikaelsons, the more the town talked. Caroline ignored it all. She was one of the first to meet the head of the household, eldest brother Finn. He had been looking to enroll his youngest brother and wanted to personally meet the woman he would be entrusting him to on a daily basis. She gave him her usual spiel about the curriculum and the daily class schedule, let him tour the classroom and answered all questions expertly. Her own questions burned something fierce. He offered minimal information. He and two of his brothers shared legal guardianship over the rest. There were six of them, total. Their parents were never mentioned and she desperately wanted to know the backstory but her instincts told her to keep her mouth shut, for once. That was the only time she saw Finn. Henrik joined her class the following week. She’d managed to connect with most of her students on some level, but little Henrik had been a mystery. He wasn’t as vocal or as boisterous as the others and didn’t interact with many of his classmates. At first, she assumed he just needed an adjustment period and gave him the benefit of the doubt, but as time went on, she learned his timid nature was who he was. It wasn’t a lack of interest as he excelled in all academic areas. It was socialization that he shied away from. Play time was often spent in the miniature library where he would study the characters of Dr. Seuss, trace the lines that Harold’s purple crayon drew, and watch the mouse cause chaos every time you gave it a cookie. In fact, story time was when she saw him the most animated. Since he couldn’t read, he loved to listen. His eyes lit up and he sat just a little straighter, leaning a little forward, eager to hear the story behind his favorite images unfold. Yes, the nervous little boy who was currently standing beside her bowing his head and kicking at the pavement beneath his feet was an anomaly. As far as five-year-olds went. “It’s not like your brother to be this late,” she mused aloud. Henrik nodded, sparing only a tiny glance out of the corner of his eye before blood rushed to his face again in an embarrassed blush. Caroline sighed, looking down at her watch again – 3:14. “Tell you what. Why don’t we go wait for him inside? It has to be more fun than this, right?”

He shrugged and nodded, letting out a little huff of disappointment before he turned, ready to follow her. She smiled and held out her hand and he looked at it with wide eyes, as if she’d just insulted him gravely. It made her wonder if a lack of affection at home was a reason why he was so reserved. She let her hand lower to the back of his shoulder instead, and he half-flinched when she did, seemingly in surprise rather than pain, but he made no objection and so she led him back into the school.

She’d seated him at his table with a coloring book and basket of crayons and he seemed placated enough that she could sit at her own desk while she waited. It was unusual for his brother to run this far behind. Elijah had always been impeccably punctual, early even, greeting her with a pleasant smile that almost matched Henrik’s before the boy would clasp his hand and they would retreat to their own lives, just like the rest. When they first met, she was shocked to learn he wasn’t Henrik’s father, but rather another one of his brothers. Despite the age difference, the resemblance was uncanny. Brown hair, brown eyes, same angular jaw structure, and matching noses. Never had she seen siblings so alike. It was…unnerving. And adorable. 

She glanced at him again and he was frowning at the crayon in his hand. “What’s wrong, Henrik?” He looked over like he’d forgotten she was there. “I went outside the lines,” he mumbled, his face filled with shame. Her brows twitched and she smiled empathetically. “That’s okay, sweetie. It doesn’t have to be perfect.” He looked down at his picture with a tiny, scrunched up frown. “Kol’s gonna laugh at me.” “Is that one of your brothers?” He nodded. She smiled slyly as she plucked one of her books from the aligned collection on the corner of her desk and got up, smoothing her skirt as she walked over to sit with him. “You know, some of the most famous artists don’t stay in the lines. They don’t even use the right colors. They make the sky green and the grass blue.” “They do?” “Mmhmm.” To emphasize her point, she opened up the art book she’d picked out, flipping pages. “And some of them don’t even paint faces the right way.” She turned the book so he could see, showing him a distorted portrait. “See?” He turned his head sideways, face screwing up in confusion. “This lady has a nose for a chin.” He smiled, a tiny giggle miraculously stuttering out. He quickly covered his mouth to stifle it. Caroline beamed. “Do you know who made this?” He shook his head. “An artist named Pablo Picasso.” “Oh I know him!” Her brows raised, pleasantly surprised. “You do?” He nodded emphatically. “One of my brothers does paints and he told me…um…he told me about Ki-passo and No-mey.” It was Caroline’s turn to giggle. “I think you mean Monet.” She turned a page to where Water Lilies was depicted and pointed. “Monet’s paintings are really fuzzy, but, sometimes, if you squint real hard, it gets a little clearer.” He did and she became endeared by him. His head quirked to the right when he looked up at her again. “What does it say?” “What?” “Right there.” He pointed to the caption beneath the picture. “It says, ‘Water Lilies, by Claude Monet. In 1893, Monet purchased land with a pond near his property in Giverny, intending to build something “for the pleasure of the eye and also for motifs to paint.” The result was his water-lily garden.’.” “And that one?” He pointed to the adjacent page where one of Edgar Degas’ Dancer paintings was printed. “‘Edgar Degas was a French artist famous for his paintings, sculptures, prints, and drawings. He is especially identified with the subject of dance; more than half of his works depict dancers.’” She smiled, running her hand over the photo. “He’s one of my favorites.” “Mine too,” a masculine voice said from behind her. Both Henrik and Caroline turned in unison to find a man standing in the doorway. Her heart was aflutter with surprise and mild intrigue. “Nik!” Henrik’s chair thrust from behind him, falling over, and he darted across to hug him. Caroline closed her book and stood, adjusting her shirt, very aware that the man’s fierce blue eyes hadn’t left her since they’d met. She held the book to her chest and put on her best smile, despite the slight agitation that this blonde mystery man was almost thirty minutes late. “My apologies for the delay,” he spoke with a distinctly British accent. “There was a bit of a mix up. Today was supposed to be my sister’s turn to pick Henrik up but she fancied herself a trip to detention instead.” “No worries. These things happen.” Henrik was all smiles, hanging onto his brother’s leg. “Miss Caroline knows A’casso.” “Pi-casso,” he corrected. “And I’m very pleased to hear that your teacher is well-educated in the arts.” Caroline smiled wryly. “You must be the brother who paints.” “I am,” he nodded, doing a quick once over, “but you can call me Klaus.” She nodded. She knew this game well. It wasn’t the first time one of her kid’s parents had shown interest. Mr. Salvatore had been particularly persistent, she remembered. Mrs. Salvatore wasn’t too pleased when she got the call from Caroline about her husband’s inappropriate behavior. “Nice to meet you, Klaus. I’ll see you tomorrow, Henrik.” She turned to head back to her desk, unaware of the curious frown she’d left on his face. “I really am sorry.” “I know you are.” She shot him a knowing smirk as she returned her book to its brethren. “Have a nice day, Mr. Mikaelson.”

Whenever it was raining, standard protocol for Kindergarten was to have parents enter the building and pick up their child on a one by one basis. For the most part, they were accommodating and prompt. Except for one. “Do you know who’s picking you up today, Henrik?” He gave a little nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and went back to book he was looking at, clumsily pushing his hair out of his face. Caroline sighed, glancing up at the clock again. It was 3:11 p.m. She could’ve guessed who his ride was today, but she dreaded having to encounter another sloppy pick-up line and the awkward tension that followed it. She’d been fortunate enough all week but on this rainy Thursday, the odds were clearly against her. Admittedly, he was an attractive man. His face had all the right angles in all the right places, and his eyes held a certain mystique. She wasn’t normally one to get lost in blue eyes (she’d seen enough in the mirror) but his were that crystalline sapphire that no living being was immune to. Aesthetics were only half the battle, as their intensity and depth only created more intrigue. There was a certain anguish behind them, a bit of mystery and that was the real clincher. Mysterious guys were always insanely alluring, but she knew better than to trust them. Lost in her daze, she failed to realize Henrik was standing in front of her desk waiting patiently for her to notice. She blinked and snapped out of it. “Oh. I’m sorry, Henrik. Did you need something?” He held up the book he’d been perusing, covering the better portion of his face with it. “Will you read this to me?” She smiled a heartwarming smile and laid her pen down pushing herself back from the desk. “Of course.” She got up and immediately Henrik ran over to the carpet where the class held their “story time” circle. She couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped out at his compulsory habits. Instead of dragging one of the chairs over, she joined him, sitting crisscrossed just as he was. He craned his neck to look over her arm when she opened the storybook to the first page: “'The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind, and another, his mother called him “WILD THING!” And Max said “I’LL EAT YOU UP!” so he was sent to bed without eating anything.” She turned a page and Henrik’s eyes followed studiously. “That very night in Max’s room a forest grew and grew and grew until his ceiling hung with vines, and the walls became the world all around, and an ocean tumbled by with a private boat for Max, and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.” She glanced up to check the time doing a double take when she saw Klaus standing in the doorway. He pressed his index finger to his lips and gestured for her to go on, his eyes slyly pointing toward Henrik. She looked down and saw the little boy looking up at her, waiting patiently but his eyes were enthralled. “You wanna turn the next page?” He smiled and nodded and she turned the book so he could lift the page, turning it with pride and basking in having the special privilege to do what no other kindergartner was permitted. His eyes scanned the contents of the new pictures and words, as if he were absorbing every detail. “When he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars – ” her voice roared as she read, “ – and gnashed their terrible teeth – ” she bared her teeth “ – and rolled their terrible eyes – ” her own eyes bulged “ – and showed their terrible claws till Max said “BE STILL!” And tamed with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once, and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all, and made him king of all wild things.” Henrik beamed and threw his hands up. “Let the wild rumpus start!” Caroline laughed. “Oh so you know this story.” He bowed his head bashfully, grinning up at her with a guilty look. “Well then you won’t mind if we finish it tomorrow. I think someone is here for you.” She nodded at the doorway. Henrik turned and looked. This time, instead of running for his brother, he turned his back on him and sulked. “Can we finish the story first?” Klaus smiled knowingly and meandered over, hands clasped behind his back. “Now, Henrik, I’m sure Miss Caroline has more important things she’ll need to be getting to.” Henrik looked down with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. She couldn’t keep her hand from going to her chest, especially when he stuck his lower lip out in a dejected little pout. Klaus sighed, seemingly familiar with this tactic, and crouched down to his brother’s level. Suddenly his voice softened and lost all trace of irony.   “If you think about it, she��s just said she can read more to you tomorrow. Which means the sooner we finish up today, the sooner it will be tomorrow.” His brows raised in a pointed look as Henrik studied his expression. “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed. Klaus nodded and stood once again while Henrik pushed himself up with his palms and picked the open book up from her lap, looking wistfully down at the pages. “Can you teach me to read?” “Hmm. I think maybe we should finish learning the alphabet, don’t you?” “I already learned,” he objected. Klaus crossed his arms with a challenging smile. “Let’s hear it, then.” Henrik stood proudly, his voice contrastingly gentle. “A B C D E F G, H I J K M&Ms O P…” He mumbled the last, blushing at their direct attention on him. Caroline laughed. “What about L and N?” “Indeed,” Klaus agreed, smiling too. “I think they’ll be lonely without the rest of their mates.” Henrik stared at him in confusion. “Never mind. Go on and put your book back and get your things. We’ve imposed on Miss Caroline enough for today.” “Oh, he hasn’t imposed.” She crossed her arms with a guarded smile. “Just you.” His lips pursed in a smirk. “My apologies.” “Let me guess. Another mix up?” “Actually – ” She held a hand up. “It’s okay. No need to explain or apologize. Not to me, anyway.” She stalked away from him coolly to help Henrik gather his things. “I’ll make you a deal,” she told him, glancing sideways at Klaus. “Since your brother can’t seem to pick you up on time, we can practice reading while we wait for him. Okay?” Henrik’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Promise?” “I promise.” “You have to say “you have my word.” That’s what Elijah and Nik always say.” Klaus’ head dropped to his chest with a chuckle and even Caroline couldn’t help her laugh. When he didn’t budge, his little frown lines determined, she composed herself, pressing her lips thin with a nod. “You have my word,” she promised. The five-year-old’s shoulders sagged in relief and he smiled satisfactorily. “Don’t forget your coat in the closet.” He nodded obligingly and ran to where his raincoat hung above his cubby. “Thank you,” Klaus’ voice was at her neck, the rest of him suddenly beside her. She shivered but turned and gave him a resolute nod. “Truly. I appreciate you taking the time to facilitate his interests.” “It’s my job.” She folded her arms. “Besides, what else are we supposed to do while we wait for you?” He tilted his head with a sly grin. “Well now that I know he’s not the only one interested in my arrival…” “That is not what I meant.” But he only continued smirking. And oh God, the dimples. Why did he have to have dimples? She shook her head, her own lips betraying her in a smile. “You know I’m starting to think you do it on purpose.” “What?” “Show up only after all the other students and parents are gone.” “What purpose would that serve?” “To get me alone. Have me all to yourself.” He pursed his lips in a deliberating pout. “That is an advantage, however you’re forgetting one minor detail.” He gestured to Henrik who was busy working diligently to get the buttons of his coat all snapped. She laughed mockingly. “Right! Your little womanizing sidekick. Winning the hearts of girls everywhere by asking them to read to him until you can swoop in at the perfect moment. With the perfect thing to say.” She narrowed her eyes, nodding with a finger directed at his chest. “I’m onto you, buddy.” He looked down at her finger then slyly back up to her face. “Now why would I reduce myself to such juvenile measures knowing a woman as clever as yourself wouldn’t be susceptible to it?” He lifted a brow for added flair. Her hands went to her hips and she continued nodding. “See? Perfect.” He laughed and she found it was a sound she was starting to favor. Lucky for her morals and dignity, Henrik rejoined them, his jacket buttons all snapped and completely off center. He had skipped one but his proud smile kept them from correcting his error. “Got everything?” she asked and he nodded. “Good. So we’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow, right?” “Right. And don’t forget, you gived me your word. It’s in my pocket so I won’t forget to bring it.” She giggled again, putting her hands up. “I am at your will.” He beamed up at Klaus excitedly, but Klaus had his own excited sights set on someone else. “Until tomorrow, then.” “Until tomorrow,” she agreed. He flashed her one last dimpled smile, completely smug, before taking the lead to exit. Henrik looked up with a curious frown as they walked out, his voice echoing in the hallway, “But I thought tomorrow’s Elijah’s turn…” Caroline laughed to herself as she walked through the classroom, straightening up the chairs and stray supplies. So maybe he wasn’t the worst Mikaelson. Despite her best efforts, he had charmed her. Not only was he sweetly devoted to Henrik and extremely easy on the eyes, but he was smart, and artistically inclined, and…smooth. Yes, damn him, he was slick as oil. The really warm kind that was used for pleasure. A movement outside the window caught her attention and it was Klaus and Henrik walking down the front path of the school towards an SUV that was waiting by the curb. That was awfully bold of him, leaving such an expensive looking car with the keys in the ignition. And then it happened. The passenger side door opened and she caught a silhouette masked by a curtain of blonde. Henrik waved and the woman stepped out, leaning over to hug him as she did. She saw Klaus’ hand go to her waist and he kissed her cheek. That was enough. Caroline turned away from the window scoffing at herself for being so naive. How could she have let herself believe he might actually have been genuine? Here he was trying to sweet talk her when he had another bimbo in the car waiting for him! She should have trusted her instincts, realized he was just like all the other fathers that hit on her, but he played the game well, answering a question with a question to avoid a direct rebuttal, all the while ensnaring her with his wit and his too blue eyes and his stupid, obnoxious dimples! Well no way would she let him get away with it. No one made a fool out of Caroline Forbes.

~ ~ Part Two coming soon! ~ ~