#like to my knowledge you’re not supposed to describe the sounds too so I just described the visuals but idk

[ame-exe]

Btw why have I not seen people talk about this

[Video ID: scene from the ace attorney anime. There is a brief pan of a road that is between snowy mountains, showing a police car driving on it. Subtitles are in italic and say “Objection! Objection!”. It then cuts to the inside of the car, where Phoenix Wright and Dick Gumshoe are sitting next to each other at the back of the car. Gumshoe fumbles for his phone to see what the ringtone was about, which stops when he finds his phone and checks the message. The subtitles also disappear. End ID]

[hearts4jean]

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

jean - braiding - modern au -

It is so clear that Jean is a gentleman in case I haven’t made it clear already like a relationship with him would be the most magical epitome ever, you being his first significant other. Sure he’d be a nervous wreck, but it’s so lovely dating him. He’d love doing all that cutesy stuff with you, people around you describe you two as the ‘ideal couple’.

He loves playing with your hair so much whether it’s where you letting him run his fingers through it as you two share a moment while in each others embrace (He’d so play with your hair as you kiss him); even when you rest your head in his lap in case you’re feeling fatigued and gently ruffles your hair (He strokes your hair if you’re asleep to not disturb you too much)

His favourite thing especially is braiding your hair he just finds it so relaxing for the both of you. It’s a skill he’s always had. He utilises it with all the women in his life like his mother, younger sister if he had one, even Sasha at one point. The amount of times he would’ve gotten told off at school for playing with Sasha’s hair as kids by teachers.

Jean always fantasised about braiding your hair too but he didn’t know how to bring it up to you, it seems too sudden and he didn’t really see you have your hair in that style very much. However, he was able to build up the courage to do so as you were getting ready to go out somewhere with him. The only reason he showed up while you were still getting ready was because he accidentally showed up way earlier than planned but this minor mistake all worked out in his favour and yours too in a way.

Jean, sitting on your bed, watches you grumble in the mirror while having your face buried in your palms. He walks up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Everything alright, []?”

You turn to him with a glum expression; your phone open on Pinterest, the search bar reading “hair inspo” and the images consisting of the most vile ‘wedding hair styles’ from 2014 with a mix of the most complex styles done with unattainably healthy hair. Even Jean, a man who has limited knowledge about how girls work understands how hideous some of those styles are, snickering at some of them as you mindlessly scroll through them.

“How do you feel about braids?”

“Braids? They’re cute, not really my go-to style but-“

“Let me- Sorry, did I cut you off?”

“No no, you’re fine. What were you going to say?”

“Oh, I was going to say you should let me do your hair.”

-“What?”

“Uhh..”

“Sorry, I sounded off-putting right there. I didn’t mean to. What do you mean by me letting you do my hair?”

“I wanna braid your hair. I MEAN! (That sounds too demanding….) Would you like me to braid your hair? It’s fine if you don’t wanna..it’s..ah cool…”

“You know how to braid hair?”

“Yes!”

- You laugh. “Go for it I suppose, you seem very eager to.”

“Merde! Did I really sound like that..?”

“…”

- “Your silence is doing better harm than good”

“Do you want to braid my hair or not?”

“Yes”

“Hah! There you go sounding eager again!” You burst out laughing, pointing your finger at Jean’s face turning into a light pink.

“[]!!!!”

Eventually you do stop messing around with him and he gets to work. Jean tries to be gentle as possible with you all the time no matter the circumstance. “Sorry, did I hurt you?” And i’d be the slightest tug that was a less careful that he intended it to be. He finds braiding hair to be relaxing for him as it sort of allows him to turn all his attention on 3 pieces of hair and how they are supposed to be crossed over repeatedly until he reaches the ends.

The feeling is mutual between the two of you; you found it to be really calming moment between the two of you, creating a new way for you two to bond together. After this, you find yourself getting your hair braided by Jean a lot more often.

Once he starts to get more skilled, he even starts to spazz up the way he braids your hair to. Like braiding in ribbons or adding smaller braids between sections. Your hair is one of his favourite things about you. Jean appears to be this stupidly cocky guy who enjoys messing around with Connie by tormenting Eren or Reiner and doing dumb teenage boy stuff; well thats what he paints himself to be. Who knew the same person also enjoys braiding hair?

[aclowntiny]

Task Failed Successfully- Hyunjin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.6K | Friends to Lovers, College AU | Warnings: none really, very slight alcohol mentions but Reader doesn’t explicitly drink, one small swear

In all honesty, you were thankful for that tiny little art class with that temporary professor who moved universities the following semester. You were thankful even though you felt like those new brush types you were made to use irreversibly brought down the quality of the one portrait you painted- paint was a difficult, sometimes fickle medium anyway. Even though sometimes it felt like that class so few people had heard of was but a fever dream, it was more than worth it to you since you wouldn’t have met Hyunjin otherwise.

Your tablemate was a gifted painter, humble as he was toward every compliment paid him. The joke you two shared was that he could have taught the class, but art was Hyunjin’s major and he was truly eager to soak up every piece of knowledge his seniors had for him- even if he disregarded it sometimes to prove a point. Art types, you know. You remained more of a rule-follower, but you guys shared one of your famous stingingly enthusiastic high-fives for it. High-fives came so naturally to you two, neither of you had to look anymore. Hence why Hyunjin’s friend Minho described you two’s ‘creepy eye contact’.

Hyunjin was what you called a hopeless romantic. Many of the gorgeous children of his brush were roses, couples from movies that had become his muses. You teased him, called him the type of guy who must have had a ring already in his nightstand just waiting.

“Easy,” he shot back, “or are you trying so hard to get rid of me?”

“No, of course not,” you shook your head and mirrored his grin, “who’s going to buy my drinks at the campus café if I marry you off too soon?”

“Oh,” he elbowed you, “so that’s why you keep me around, huh? Bold of you to assume I’m going with you.”

Giggling, you shouldered your backpack and kept on down the posh brick walkway that marked the campus rose garden. Hyunjin kept by your side the whole walk past the waving blooms and right to the student center where the little restaurants and cafés were.

“Alright, fine, but only if you take bowling with me next semester.”

Your campus had a bowling alley and its own ‘sports’ course set there, a class that filled up quickly with students eager to get credits for fun, even if they sucked, because how do you fail bowling?

“Oh, no,” you placed your hand over your heart, eyes rolling away from him dramatically, “truly a fate worse than death.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

“What’s that supposed to be?”

Hyunjin was peering at your canvas, tracing the latest line you’d smeared across it with his head tilted and eyes darting. He looked like a curious cat.

“Why, what does it look like?”

“Oh, no,” he shook his tilted head, “this is the ultimate trap. I say the wrong thing and it looks terrible. Not falling for that one bit.” He punctuated his statement with an enunciated pronouncement of your name and a finger booping your nose.

“Well, I’ll give you a hint, it’s going to be a landscape.”

“Ooh! The beach! It’s the beach, huh? I should have known you were painting the sea again!” Straightening up, he clapped and pointed in excitement, having gone from cat to puppy in three seconds flat. That was one of your favorite things about him.

“Guess I’m predictable,” you replied jokingly, giving him a smile, “it is the beach. Well, sort of. At my family’s little spot there was this pier that would silhouette perfectly in the sunset, the water trapped on the sand reflecting it as an inverse on the ground. All the orange melting into blue- the sky geld more colors than the sea! It was like setting foot into another world.”

“Wow,” Hyunjin breathed, “and you say you’re not much of an artist. If I had half the way with words you do, it’d be over for everyone.”

“Well, then we’ll have to take over the world together.”

“Sounds good to me. Dictatorships sound lonely anyway.”

~

With that nature of his, it was only a matter of time. Hyunjin’s art spoke volumes about his subconscious, so it was no surprise when he started telling you about a blind date a friend of his was setting him up on.

“So I guess he sits by her in his fashion design class…”

“Ooh,” you muse. Sounds up his alley.

“And she’s been looking for a date for a while, so he told her ‘I have this art major friend’ and the rest was history.”

How was it so easy for some people? Though then again, volunteering your friends was a considerably different task than asking someone out, especially if your friends were as hot as Hyunjin. Not that you thought about that often. It was just a sort of objective appreciation thing, like straight guys talking about Ryan Reynolds. Yeah.

“So besides being single and taking a fashion design class with Felix, what’s her deal? Did he give you any detail?”

“She’s twenty-one. A bit of a partier, but sounds like nothing I can’t handle.”

At that, you suppressed a snort. Hyunjin was an E type, but the last thing he was was a partier. Getting a few drinks with his eight-person friend group or attending a wine and paint night was as crazy as he ever got. For being such an amazing dancer, he never hit the club and you were fine with that. All the noise and crowds could be sort of anxiety-inducing. Call you a child after heart, but you’d take the nights you two had painted the arcade red over going out dancing with strangers.

Enough about that, though. Pulling your jacket a bit tighter about your chest, you shook your head as if to dissipate a cartoon thought cloud. “So, where are you taking her, then?”

Hyunjin smiled, a bit…nervously? “We’re just meeting at the bar-and-grill across the way here, nothing fancy.”

“Hiding that side until a few nights in, huh?” You nudged him, chest feeling like it expanded at the way his smile opened up, relaxed.

“She’s a fashion major, she’s going to be way more pretentious than me.”

“I dunno, Mr. Windows to the Soul,” you kept teasing, this time with the name of his last assignment sketch of a pair of eyes.

“Not my last minute title,” he waved a hand before playfully grabbing yours and swinging it back to your side, “next time I’ll just use a drama quote like you did. Really show how serious I take the assignment.”

“Hey!” You protested, shoving his hand away in mock offense.

“Gotcha,” he grinned.

Hopefully Miss Fashion could handle him as well as you could.

~

Forwarding a picture of your pet that your parents had sent you earlier in the day, you texted Hyunjin ‘Good luck!’. Too robotic? You hoped not, because by whatever cosmic dice roll the vibes had just been off all day, clouds rolling across the atmosphere of your mind and obscuring any small good that came your way. If you seemed off, he would worry, and he didn’t need to carry anything unnecessary into his evening.

Hyunjin 🐹: Thank you 👍🏻 heading to the bar now! Hope we both have a fun evening 😁

You shook your head as your phone’s backlight illuminated your face an artificial blue-white. Hyunjin was too sweet for his own good.

Me: I’m just having a night in lol so have fun for both of us!

Squirreling your phone back into your hoodie’s front pocket, you wiggled a bit deeper into the garment and sighed. It wasn’t that you wanted his blind date to go badly or anything…so why weren’t you feeling the excitement you led on in your text?

~

It was about forty minutes later, just about seven-thirty, when your phone buzzed again. Reaching into your pocket with one hand, you paused the video you’d been watching with the other. The first word you registered was Hyunjin’s name, the little hamster emoji you’d given his contact because they didn’t make a ferret for some reason.

Hyunjin 🐹: She never showed.

Just three words, but that message alone was enough to have you kicking your blankets off and feeling your hand curl into a fist. You barely bothered beyond a perfunctory check and touch-up of yourself in the mirror before you had your keys in your hand, all but stomping out the door of your dorm suite.

How dare she! How dare Whatever-Her-Name stand him up! Guys like Hyunjin didn’t grow on trees, and whatever planet she was on where she thought she could do better than your friend, it wasn’t much like Earth. Had Felix’s words been cause of any caution, set forth any reservation? It sure hadn’t sounded like it from Hyunjin’s recounting.

Me: Stay there, I’m coming to get you.

Hyunjin 🐹: You don’t have to do that. She just forgot, apparently. She was already out with friends when I texted a follow-up thirty minutes into sitting here.

Swallowing down some very uncouth nicknames, you sent one more message before starting your car.

Me: I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Not cool 😕

Metaphorical red clouded your vision, forcing reminders from the greatly-diminished level fraction of your brain to slow down, keep a vigilant eye upon the dim road still. This was the kind of thing you read about in ridiculous website articles about ‘Top Ten Dating Nightmares’ or saw on a corny sitcom, not a real-life thing. Petty, sure, but you wondered how many assignments Party Girl had ‘forgotten’ in her college career.

After what felt like much longer than a twelve-minute drive you were pulling into the bar-and-grill, where a serendipitous front-row parking space was just opening up. Swiping the black SUV’s former resting place, you parked and took a short, forceful walk through the doors. It didn’t take long to find Hyunjin as he sat blank-faced in a red leather stool beneath the bar’s wine-tinted neon, chin in his hand and cocktail in front of him. The lights splashing the place perfectly mirrored the literary light of your fervor, spurring you on… and inspiring your next piece for class, but that was beside the point.

“Hey,” Hyunjin greeted you in a deadpan, giving you a halfhearted wave.

“I- I- I cannot believe her!” You spluttered, forgetting yourself as you grabbed Hyunjin’s hand and practically yanked him out of his seat. “But it doesn’t matter- we are not giving her the power to ruin our evening.”

When it became ‘our’ evening who knew, but such did not even occur to you until much later. Only one thing was on your mind, after all.

“Come on. Let’s forget all about that and have some fun at least.”

No resistance from Hyunjin- he simply followed you out the door, chuckling and sarcastically thanking you for making sure he’d paid for his drink.

Stopping right before the doors, you cocked a brow. “Had you?”

“Yes.”

“Look at you- picture of integrity,” you remarked, disappearing back out from the reddish glow into cool night air, the feeling of your friend’s hand in yours a warm tether.

~

Soon the two of you were bathed in a much different light, the brighter-and much cheerier in your opinion-blinking of the arcade. Your spot. Fiddling sheepishly with your hoodie strings, you bid Hyunjin pick a game since you’d paid.

He chose air hockey. Good man. Whirs and rampant clicks drowned out the echoing thoughts you both were surely having, brought forth shaky, then stronger and stronger smiles. He won. You pretended to be upset before relenting with an infamous no-look high-five, secretly happy he got the victory.

“You paid and you lost!” Hyunjin urged, waving a hand as if to usher you deeper into the colorful madness. “Pick the next one!”

“Alright, basketball!” You agreed, following the wave down to the hoop-shooting game.

With a swipe of your card, you were off, tossing with the best of your aim and protesting the snickering at your side when you proverbially ate it. Like a Jedi sense, you leaned to the left right as Hyunjin made to nudge you, something he’d done on your last trip too, and vowed your revenge.

In a way, you got it, because you won that game. Playing clean, you reminded him.

Neither of you brought up the evening’s previous half for several games, truly successful in your endeavor of distracting yourselves. It rose to your mind a few times, mostly when the sight of his smile drew one from you. No longer were your eyes framed crimson, though- rather all you felt was gladness at your move, satisfaction like the last piece had tumbled into a puzzle.

It was after the roulette spin that the subject of your un-ruined evening was broached. Your head had swiveled in search of the next expense of credits when his voice at your side had you turning back.

“Hey,” he’d said, and when you faced him again he tugged at the hem of his jean jacket and glanced up to your eyes and back down, “this means a lot to me.”

Your gaze softened into his, chest leapt at the sudden heartfelt words. “Of course. I told you, no reason to let the evening be ruined.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck, “but I guess what I really mean is I realized something when we came here. When Felix told me about the blind date, I just jumped at the chance without thinking. Well, we see where that got me.” He gave a short, sardonic chuckle. “Now, though, I’ve been thinking. Everything just feels right like this with you and I. You’re the one I’d rather be with.”

You gaped. “Like, date?”

“What happened to inverse worlds reflected on sand?” Hyunjin teased, giving you one of those infamous smirks of his.

“I wasn’t exactly surprised out of my mind talking about the old bay pier,” you shot back, though your expression was anything but intimidating, a smile no part of you could fight spreading across it in place of any pout or death glare you normally would have attempted.

And there he was, smiling back with a hopeful look in his eyes that had your heartbeat stuttering. “So, we going to unpack ‘surprised out of my mind’ or nah?”

“Nah,” you shook your head beneath the whirlwind of thoughts and thrumming of heartbeats, all your vision’s red faded to the rosy glow of something you never thought you would let yourself give into, “I’m just going to surprise you out of your mind.”

Ryan Reynolds, your ass. It blew your mind someone could pass over a person as amazing as your classmate, someone who could translate their heart into the most amazing things and feel like home in physical presence too. An open conduit for all the teasing banter that never went too far. Well, no matter- the floodgates had been opened, and with no further warning you surged forward to shut out every centimeter of air between Hyunjin’s lips and yours, smiling and resisting the urge to shake your head at- well, everything. Your arcade light fireworks lighting up the insides of your fluttering eyelids, the way his fingers found the curves of your cheekbones, tracing them like he was plotting his next painting.

Maybe both of you were hopeless romantics.

[emelinstriker]

Syntax ♤ New Me

Baked some floofy comfort for y'all! :D

Still sad about Syntax not getting any screentime regarding his past before getting turned, so my brain went like "...This has slight angst potential".

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

His green eyes looked into the bathroom's mirror, gazing upon his newfound looks in the darkness. From his green and purple colors to the fact that he no longer needed glasses made him feel very much uncertain if you still liked him. It wasn't a small change one could easily miss or brush off, after all. Syntax had four spider legs coming out of his back now, for crying out loud! How could you not notice?!

He sighed as he ran his hand through his now green hair, closing his eyes while contemplating his next step. The techy science nerd was still in love with you despite the venom in his veins, making him loyal to his queen above basically all else.

How is he supposed to tell you without you freaking out and leaving him? That was probably his greatest fear in that moment. A future without you by his side. That one flaw in his transformation he could never be able to look past.

Good thing you were still at work, so you couldn't see him tearing up in your shared home.

'I suppose I could always fully live in the Underground with the other spider demons if they reject my new form...', he thought, his frown turning into a bittersweet smile.

'...But then I wouldn't be able to see them anymore...'

Suddenly, he heard the sounds of keys clashing with one another by the front door...

His eyes widened at the familiar sound. 'They weren't supposed to be back yet! I can't hide in time!' He panicked as he slammed the bathroom door, closing it just as he heard the front door shut in a more gentle manner.

"Syn? Love? Is that you?", your concerned voice rang through the halls, all the way past the bathroom door. You were hoping it was him and not a burglar.

He took a deep breath as he leaned his back against the door as best as he could with his spider limbs, "I- Y-Yeah, just... not feeling all too well."

Your gut feeling told you he was lying... Well, partially. You were slightly more concerned now as your husband wasn't one to feel sick and take a break over it. Forcing him away from his projects was the only way you were ever able to even sleep most days! So him being in the bathroom on his own accord was strange, to say the least. Questioning his sickness, you decided to walk up to the bathroom and gave a light knock.

"May I come in?" Syntax swore his heart stopped from the sudden panic spike those simple words brought him. Tears slowly started to gather back up in his eyes as he scowled towards the ground.

"...I just- I don't think you want to see me", he said. You were even more confused now as you said nothing, waiting for him to continue. "Even if you do right now, I doubt you'd want to stay after seeing me... After witnessing what I've become..."

The faint sniffing you heard past the door was all you needed as motivation for your protective side to take over. "Love, please let me in. I don't know what you're talking about, but I can promise you I will never abandon you over your looks", you told him as you leaned in with your hands against the door. He could hear your gentle smile as you spoke the part after. "After all, I didn't marry my beloved tech nerd for his looks. His looks were a nice bonus... But what I fell for was his witty personality, his knowledge over things I barely have knowledge of, how he cared for me..."

You placed your forehead on the door now too as you heard what you could only describe as metal lightly clanking against the door's wood.

"You mean so much to me you don't even know..."

That.

That sentence was all it took to break the spider demon and turn him into a sobbing mess. He opened the door just enough so you could see one half of his face within the darkness of the bathroom. The only light inside came from a little nightlight you once insisted on adding so you had an easier time navigating to the bathroom during nighttime.

You were surprised by his new looks and Syntax took your facial expression as a bad sign. However, instead of leaving him as he feared, you put a foot between the door and its frame.

"May I come in now?"

Your husband finally fully opened the door, despite being reluctant about it, and you were finally able to have a good look at him. And honestly, you would be lying if you said you didn't find him even more attractive now.

The only thing that kind of freaked you out were the newfound mechanical spider limbs coming out of his back. You carefully approached him as he took one step back out of instinct. But that didn't stop you as you took one of his hands into your own, gazing at its purple shade in wonder before using your other hand to lightly play around with its skin. This simple action seemed to calm him enough as he rubbed his eyes with his other hand to get rid of some tears that were threatening to fall.

"...I'm not scared of you, and I certainly am not less in love with you, Syntax. That being said, I am curious", you started before your eyes trailed up from his hand to his eyes. "What happened to you?"

He sighed as he took you in for a hug, inhaling your scent to calm himself further, to ensure himself that you were still with him and haven't left. You two simply held each other as you whispered more comforting words to him. A few minutes of just holding each other, and you looking at the spider legs coming from his back with interest, you decided to ask him if he was finally ready to speak, and he agreed.

You two ended up cuddling on your bed as he told you about what happened: The Spider Queen, her lackeys, the venom incident, him being part of the reason why half of the city's population became zombie-like, his newfound loyalty to his queen... He had to ensure you that he would never pick her above you however... While he isn't sure how far his loyalty for her would go now as his spider instincts tell him to follow his queen's every command, he would hate himself forever if he did end up leaving you.

It was a bit difficult for you to adjust to this new life of having a spider demon as lover in general. He would be gone for most of the time since he would regularly sleep in Spider Queen's Lair, and only ever come back home in the dead of night when you were already asleep. And unless it was the weekend, you were unable to stay awake due to you having work at the office the next morning. So nowadays it was hard for you to even see him, which was upsetting because you just missed his presence.

One day however, Syntax came to visit you at work while disguised in a cloak. He didn't exactly try to have a conversation with you as he wanted to avoid distracting you from your job. But not only did he leave you a lunchbox, but he also gave you a quick kiss. Once he was gone, you looked into the lunchbox and saw your favorite snacks(, that he probably either bought or stole right before visiting), as well as a little sticky note that simply read 'I love you ♡'.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh at how cute he was being. He was never the romantic type and would shy away from the simple idea of showing you public affection, so this came as a nice surprise. It was as if Syntax truly did change a bit in personality and became a bit bolder with his transformation.

Your husband was also there when you came home this time. He kept on using his charm the whole evening until you asked him why he was being so affectionate with you all of a sudden. And his response was that he was repaying you.

"Repay me for what? For loving my husband?" You asked jokingly.

"Well, of course! I hate being apart from you for longer periods of time", he responded happily with his nowadays signature shark-toothed smile. "Which is why I wanted to ask you if you'd be interested in moving into the Spider Queen's Lair with me. It would technically be closer to your workplace as well as my own. We could even have a lit tunnel that leads directly to your workplace!" Your mouth shaped an 'o' at the idea. You could be closer to work as well as see the love of your life more often? You saw this as an absolute win! Although...

"...Is this alright with your co-workers? What if the other spider demons won't like me? What if they want to eat me?!" Your brain started panicking as you imagined different bad scenarios that could happen. But then it halted on one scenario that you could not look past. "...What if your queen orders you to get rid of me?"

Suddenly, Syntax pulled you close to him so your chest would be flat against his as he embraced you with his head on your shoulder. You were surprised, but happily returned the hug.

"Well, then she'll have to inject venom into another person with a similar intelligence level to mine. I would rather drain the venom from my own veins than get rid of you. Besides," he chuckled, "the queen may have an army, but none of them come close to having my technological capabilities. And knowing the queen, she would not bother trying to replace me unless a better replacement is handed to her on a silver platter."

That made you laugh a little before you two leaned in for a passionate kiss.

You could definitely get used to his new self.

> Link to Masterlist <

[missr3n3]

cut down the altar!

(just a quick idea that wouldn't let me rest until i wrote it down. takes place between chapters 13 and 14. based on a thought i've had a few times about non-sleeper agent people who aren't afraid of alternates. word count: 1.5k)

02/10/2009 Radio Interview

A. Torres: You’re now listening to an exclusive interview with Alternate Behaviorist, Rebecca Sharpe! Thanks for stopping by the studio today, Rebecca.

R. Sharpe: Thank you so much, Anna.

A. Torres: Right, so, where to start? (laughter) I guess, how did you get into this line of work? You know, there was a study back in 2001 I believe: “95% of Americans doubt the validity of the Wisconsin Alternate Crisis.” Did you have any doubts when deciding on your career path?

R. Sharpe: Well, it all started with the loss of my husband… I guess you could say I have a personal stake in this subject.

A. Torres: I see. I’m sorry for your loss.

R. Sharpe: When I heard the news of his passing, I knew there had to be an explanation. A more concrete explanation. You know, back then – he passed in ’92 – there was a lot of superstition surrounding alternates. No one wanted to risk getting too close to them, so information was scarce.

A. Torres: Right.

R. Sharpe: And you know what happens when there’s a lack of information or transparency. Fear and magical thinking start to fill in the blanks. I wasn’t satisfied with that, so… Here I am!

A. Torres: Excellent. So, prior to, you know, the elephant in the room – and don’t worry listeners, we’ll get to it soon. But prior to the Type 6 situation, how did you do your research?

R. Sharpe: Well, it’s not too different from studying any other dangerous life-form. I suppose in layman’s terms, you could think of it as a combination of field research and… maybe microbiology?

A. Torres: Microbiology? Interesting!

R. Sharpe: Well, there's a viral nature to how alternates hunt. Sometimes you have to let one take hold in an uninhabited area to best understand their methods. It's like a large-scale version of studying a deadly virus in a Petri dish.

A. Torres: Damn.

R. Sharpe: Yeah. I knew it was gonna be dangerous, but it’s necessary work. You’ve gotta keep your distance with these things. Have the same respect for their space that you would for, I don’t know, a great white or a lion.

A. Torres: Interesting word choice. “Respect.” People don’t usually think of alternates as beings deserving of respect.

R. Sharpe: I think it's… To be honest, Anna, I’m not really scared of alternates.

A. Torres: Really!?

R. Sharpe: I mean, at first I was! Like I said, they’ve impacted my life. But you know what I said about unknowns leading to fear? The opposite is also true: Knowledge can ease, if not eradicate fear.

A. Torres: Right, that makes sense. How do you feel about alternates now?

R. Sharpe: Honestly… Gosh, this is gonna make me sound crazy. (laughter)

A. Torres: (laughter) Oh, come on! You can’t be any crazier than me.

R. Sharpe: Okay. Well, honestly, I find them utterly fascinating. We’re learning a lot – especially with the introduction of Type 6s – about not just their behavioral patterns, but about the very nature of intelligence and sentience.

A. Torres: Oh, we’re gonna get philosophical? Hang on, let me grab some vodka.

R. Sharpe: (laughter) (bottle clinking) We don’t have to go that deep!

A. Torres: Nah, I’m ready to party!

R. Sharpe: (laughter) Well, if you insist! Just save some for me. (laughter)

A. Torres: I make no promises. (liquid pouring)

R. Sharpe: Well, anyway, what I’m getting at is… There really aren’t any other creatures in the animal kingdom with our kind of sentience, right? There are intelligent animals, of course. We all know about how smart dolphins, parrots, crows, octopi – we all know there’s other intelligent species on our planet. But you can’t have a discussion with a parrot, can you? Even if they know how to talk, the parrot can’t really describe its perspective on its existence. But alternates – provided keep them at arms length – can. In fact, we have a few reports from survivors of MAD who spent days in the presence of an alternate, and they’re apparently very chatty about themselves.

A. Torres: Indeed. You know, between you and me – and my dear listeners, of course, though they already know this – I’m pretty close to the Alternate Crisis myself.

R. Sharpe: Right, your nephew-

A. Torres: Yep. He had a really close call with one of them. Even lost… The kid may have just been his close friend, but honestly, he was like another son to my sister, another nephew to me…

R. Sharpe: I’m so sorry…

A. Torres: Yeah… But what he told me does corroborate what you’re saying. There really isn’t anything quite like them… And on that note, I think I’ve kept my listeners waiting long enough. Let’s get into the Type 6s.

R. Sharpe: Oh yes, let’s!

A. Torres: So, according to my research, you have a personal stake in this matter too, right?

R. Sharpe: Indeed.

A. Torres: Care to share the story?

R. Sharpe: Well, it was quite a hectic day of work. We were getting report after report about these new, non-hostile alternates. Like, getting tens of reports within a second. It was crazy!

A. Torres: I’ll bet.

R. Sharpe: Then one of my coworkers calls me over. “Your daughter was sharing a dorm with a guy named Sam, right?” I said, “Yeah, why?” It turns out he called to report that my own daughter is a Type 6!

A. Torres: Damn! I can’t even imagine… How did you process it? Do you still think of her as your daughter?

R. Sharpe: I do. I mean, I still haven’t seen her yet. I know that’s a common thread with the reports, that there’s this initial shock from their appearance. But I’ll be seeing her tomorrow, and when she gets here, I don’t plan on treating her any different than I did before the change.

A. Torres: I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I don’t know any Type 6s, or anyone who’s close to one, but I’ve been watching some videos people have taken when their loved ones turned. It seems like it’s a painful process…

R. Sharpe: Yeah. I mean, they’re basically rearranging their whole bodies. Our current theory is that the reversion happens on the cellular level. Every single cell gets destroyed and recreated in an instant.

A. Torres: God damn… I can see why they’re getting some sympathy from folks.

R. Sharpe: It’s that; probably the familiarity too.

A. Torres: And on that note, here’s the big question everyone wants answered: Why let them evacuate, and is it safe?

R. Sharpe: Let’s start with the question of safety. As far as any of us can tell – and I’ve been up close with alternates for over two decades now – it is safe to remain in proximity with a Type 6. Not only are they generally not hostile towards humans, but many of them have exhibited hostility towards other, non-Type 6 alternates.

A. Torres: Really? Why do you think that is?

R. Sharpe: Hard to say. The few Type 6s who reported themselves, they were highly reluctant to shed light on their relation to other alternates. What we have gathered is that there appears to be some kind of mental link between all alternates. It’s possible this may be some form of territorial behavior. Like, “These humans are mine, either go find your own or we’re gonna have a problem.”

A. Torres: Then I’ll bet you and Sam are going to be very safe with… What’s your daughter’s name?

R. Sharpe: Delilah.

A. Torres: Delilah, right. And what’s the scoop on the evacuation?

R. Sharpe: It goes back to what I was saying about sentience. Beyond the moral implications around mass-executing sentient beings so similar to ourselves, we also now have access to a much safer avenue for alternate behavior studies. Before this, you had to basically take your life and your psyche into your own hands for this line of work. But not only are Type 6s easier to understand on the linguistic level, but they actually seem to avoid inducing MAD!

A. Torres: For real? Any theories as to why that might be?

R. Sharpe: It’s the same territorial theory. Only instead of what you usually see in other animals, where they get territorial over food, land, or mates, it seems to be social in nature. They don’t want to maintain their human relationships as a means to an end; having these relationships is the end.

A. Torres: You know, I think I’m starting to get where your fascination comes from. In fact… okay, this is where I prove that I’m crazier than you.

R. Sharpe: Now I’m intrigued!

A. Torres: Is it weird that I kind of want to meet a Type 6?

R. Sharpe: (laughter) Well, I said Delilah would be over tomorrow! Maybe you can meet her then!

A. Torres: (laughter) I’d love that! Well, unfortunately, I think that’s all the time we have, Rebecca. Once again, thank you for coming by. I’m sure your words have put a lot of people at ease regarding Type 6s.

R. Sharpe: My pleasure!

[landofzero-archive]

Absolute - To Abhor the Impure World 10

(Location: Michigan Townscape)

(An hour later. Near the Absolute venue in the center of the WNW district)

Jun: Ohiisa~n! NEGI-sa~n!

There was a hot dog stand, so I bought us some food. Come to think of it, we’ve had a lot going on since this morning, so we haven’t eaten anything.

No matter what we do, we need to stay healthy.

NEGI: “Thank you. You’re a kind and good kid.”

Hiyori: Fufun, he’s an attentive kid, don’t you think? I trained him myself! (1)

Jun: In reality, I can’t think of any word for it other than “training”…… Ahh, my whole body is being haunted by the spirits of errand boys.

NEGI: “Ahaha. It’s not a bad thing, attentive kids like you can be well-liked.

Like Anzu. Hey, is Anzu doing well? I heard she was having a rough time during SS, but is she feeling depressed or anything?”

Jun: I think she’s fine but y’know~, that person is a lot tougher than me.

Hiyori: Indeed. But the problem is that everyone thinks that way, and doesn’t pay enough attention to that child as a result.

It may be an old-fashioned thing to say, but she’s still an underage girl. She needs support from those around her.

NEGI: “That’s how it is. This world is ruled by adults, and when children try to defy them they’ll just be crushed.”

Jun: Really, is there anything we can do~? I got caught up in Ohiisan’s energy and ran out of the safety of the hotel, and?

We’re supposed to search for Nagi-senpai and Shaka-san, but we don’t have any clues right now—

Hiyori: Yeah, it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but I can’t just sit still and do nothing.

NEGI: “I can’t say I have a clue, but I do have a bit of an idea.

That’s why we came to the Absolute venue like this.”

Hiyori: Surprisingly, it’s already bustling with people.

The Absolute event starts tomorrow, but in preparation the staff are building something like a tent village.

There’s a lot of attendees who can’t wait for the opening day, huh. There’s even food stalls for them, they’re already making merry.  

Fufu. I don’t dislike this kind of atmosphere. What fine weather♪

Jun: Umm, we didn’t have anything else to do, so we came with you like you asked us to. What kind of clues are supposed to be here~?

NEGI: “Before getting into that, how much do you two know about Absolute?”

Jun: Uh. I only know whatever I can look up about it online~, it’s an event people in Japan aren’t really familiar with, though.

Just in case, I did a bit of research before taking this job, but I don’t know much about it.

Hiyori: Last time, we were just guests and enjoyed the event. Generally, our knowledge is more or less the same as that of the average person.

Absolute is the world’s biggest idol festival, held in the WNW district of Detroit, Michigan three times a year.

Its catchphrase was, and still is, “Fanatic Festival.”

Jun: Haha. That unsettling slogan is the same as always~.

NEGI: “Yes. I’m not sure why it’s described like that.

But you see, from the general public, who only know respectable music’s, point of view, Absolute’s music is—

Maybe the so-called idols look fanatic to them?

I feel like the performers are competing for the sake of how much money they can make from flashy performances rather than for the music itself.

Perhaps it feels more like a circus than a concert?”

Jun: It was cool when we watched the performances as guests too~. A performer was shot by a machine gun out of nowhere, fell to the ground, and then rose from the dead like a zombie.

NEGI: “Ahaha.”

Hiyori: Ahh, that also happened…… Also, you mentioned that Shaka-san is religious, so maybe that’s why he was acting like a scene ripped right out of a myth.

Suddenly, without any warning, a crack appeared on the floor of the venue, and a shining Shaka-san rose up from the depths. It was super surprising, y’know.

Just like that, Shaka-san was floating in the air, shining like the sun, and singing something that sounded like an up-beat hymn.

NEGI: “With a group of angels. By the way, I don’t know which concert you all saw, but in the last performance, I also got to silently play the role of one of those angels.

Since I had become personal friends with Shaka-san, he asked me to appear in something.

I also had some free time and wanted to sing, so I decided to appear, but, honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever do it again.

I don’t know why, but it was scary because I was floating, not because I was suspended by wires. It felt like I was weightless, and it was hard for me to control my posture.”

Jun: I was more concerned about the cracks in the ground. That kind of thing is a natural phenomenon, so how did they cause that kind of situation~?

NEGI: “I’m not sure, but if you save up enough money, you can do most anything, right?”

Jun: It cost an absurd amount of money, huh~…… Is that kind of thing profitable?

NEGI: “Maybe so. You probably know this, but in Absolute, unlike the ES drefes system, the winners and losers are determined solely by how much money they receive from the attendees.

It’s what you would call tipping. People who watch the performance either live or through broadcasting can spend as much money as they’d like on their favorite performers.”

Hiyori: And so, it feels like the performer who made the most money was the winner.

NEGI: “Yes. And the money earned from doing so goes directly to the performer’s bank account.

No matter how much you spend on production, if the results are good then you can make a decent profit, right?

But in recent years, the productions have become increasingly flashy, so it probably costs a lot more money. So, most of the performers are probably in debt.

I heard that every year, a number of people ruin their lives because of this. 

No matter if you win or lose, it’ll lead to your own destruction. But even so, every year, idiots will gather and do stupid things.

That’s why it’s called the ‘Fanatic Festival.’”

TL Notes:

Hiyori uses the word “調教” (choukyou) here, which refers to training an animal.

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[let-me-take-your-soul]

So IDK if you know this, but apparently some researchers speculate that obsessive-compulsive behaviour contributes to the development of BIID (body integrity identity disorder).

If you don't know what that is here's the def-

The extremely rare phenomenon of persons who desire the amputation of one or more healthy limbs or who desire paralysis. Some of these persons mutilate themselves; others ask surgeons for an amputation or for the transection of their spinal cord.

And a news article talking about a man named Sean O'Conner who describes his experience with it-

https://www.newscientist.com/article/dn23620-mindscapes-the-man-who-needs-to-paralyse-himself/

So I was thinking, ya know, Obbseessive compulsive behaviour? I think it would be super interesting (If a tad bit quite dark) if you could write about Kid having this and the Spartoi finding out?

(I'll understand if not of course! There isn't much knows about BIID so I get it would be challenging to write with.)

Ooooh, this is really interesting! I've heard about this a little bit before, but I don't know much about it. I wrote a little snippet for this, but didn't go into too much detail since I still don't know a lot. Still, I hope it's enjoyable!

Kid struggling with BIID:

It was common knowledge amongst Kid’s friends now that he struggled with OCD. As a whole, they supported him in any way that they could even if his actions didn’t make sense to them. After a particularly rough sparring match, the group had gone together to get their wounds fixed up with Dr. Stein. It seemed so casual when Kid asked– the group started giggling at first at the outlandish request.

“Since you’ve got all of your equipment out already, would you be willing to perform a double leg amputation for me?”

Even Stein audibly laughed at the question as he answered, “Sure, just make sure you get it in writing from your dad first. I don’t want to face his wrath.”

The group moved on, but Kid seemed to be concerned and disappointed as he looked down at his legs, watching them closely as the group walked towards their usual hangout spot.

“Do you think my father would let me go through with that operation?” he asks his friends.

They each give him a strange look.

“Kid, I think you’re committing to the bit a little too much now,” Soul tells him.

Kid gives his friends a quizzical look.

“There is no bit. I was being dead serious.”

“Huh?? Since when have you wanted to end up with no legs? What are you talking about, Kid?” Liz asks.

“Maybe it’s because of the major differences in how I look in contrast to my father… I don’t know, but I feel that it’s a thought I’ve always had. Some days that thought is stronger and some days I can easily push it out of my mind, but it feels wrong walking like I’m human,” he tries to explain. “Does that make any sense?”

“Not in the slightest, dude. Like, do we need to intervene in any way?” Black*Star asks.

“Well… I think I’ve read something about this sort of thing. It sounds like you’re experiencing something like Body Integrity Identity Disorder,” Maka chimes in. “I’m not a doctor, so I don’t want to try to diagnose you with anything. At the very least, those are some pretty intense thoughts, so I’d encourage talking to someone who does know more about it.”

“Yeah, probably not Stein though. You might just encourage him to make a major surgery for the hell of it,” Soul says.4

Kid hums gently in response.

“Yes, I suppose that’s fair. I can understand why it could be seen as a very dangerous thought. I promise that I won’t do anything to put myself into harm's way while I get my mind sorted out a bit more.”

“Okay, just remember that Patty and I are here for you if you need us, okay? We’re your weapons after all,” Liz tells him, Patty nods vigorously next to her sister, most of the conversation having gone over her head a little.

“Same goes for all of us. We aren’t your weapon partners, but we’re all a team. So if that impulse gets too strong and you feel that you might try to cause harm to yourself, don’t hesitate to reach out!” Tsubaki tells him.

“Exactly! And honestly, above all else, if you have to get surgery… for anything really… maybe don’t ask Stein for it,” Maka says.

The group breaks into laughter. They felt that they may never fully understand Kid’s mind, but all of them had accepted that and overall wanted to find the best ways they could to help whenever it was needed.

[evelynndecipio-blog]

June 13th, 2020.

Dear Nightingale, 

It’s fine. I can relate to not getting out of the castle much, though not for the same reasons as you. It took me a while to gain the courage to come searching for your letter. I’m not so sure what I was afraid of, but I’m thinking of pushing myself to be less fearful of what the world has to offer.

I live in the south. Brighton to be exact. I love it dearly and I would never choose to give it up for life elsewhere. Even after my short trips in London, I can confidently say that Brighton is the best place in the world. I suppose its unfair, since I’ve only been to one other country, but I haven’t yet seen any evidence that would suggest otherwise. Still though, your beach sounds wonderful. From the way you described it, I can imagine the shore being a quiet place for contemplation. I love the bustling of Brighton, but a quiet beach is something I would love to visit or even live near. We don’t get many horses in Brighton either, so riding one near the water would be a new experience for me. Well, riding a horse, specifically, would be a new experience. Do you have a close bond with your horse? I’ve always wondered what it would be like to share a relationship with an animal. I think I should convince my parents to get me one to bring to Hogwarts. I think I should start saving my own money to buy one to bring here.

Your mother sounds so amazing. I wish I could be that close with my own mother. In fact, I got along with my father much more. We had similar interests, you see. My fondness for tabletop games, videogames and reading all came from him. We could talk about anything. He was like a best friend and a father all wrapped into one. I also owe my in-depth knowledge of Brighton to him as he loved taking me around the city to explore, much like you and your mother did. We would walk for what felt like hours in the comfort of each other. Now I don’t see much of him anymore. My mother introduced me to movies, my first love, but her job kept her more occupied than my father. These days, I don’t talk to her much either. I’m glad that you and your mother are so close. A month ago, I would have told you to not trust her. A parent that close with their kid must be hiding something and you’ve got to figure out what it is. Today, I see things differently. The happenings in my life are completely different from yours, so I beg you, hold on to your mother. Never let her go.

Am I wrong in assuming that you’re muddlemoogle muggle-born? Or you’ve at least spent most of your life in the muggle world, right? I relate to your expectations and experiences at Hogwarts. Honestly, it sounded too good to be true to me. Just like a fantasy adventure. I was also sure that I was facing an elaborate prank, one set up by my parents for me to get over everything that happened. If I had come here with a more open mind, I think it would have been the best thing to ever happen to me. A real-life game. I hate that I can’t be excited about it. Though, failing a spell can surely happen in one of those games. How badly it fails all rests on the shoulders of the dungeon master. My father was a benevolent one. If he was telling this story of our time at Hogwarts, it would have been a much happier experience for me. Of course, there’s no real-life danger to those games.

I’ve only heard stories of the ball through the grapevine. I was there, but I was able to escape quickly thanks to some kind soul with a broom. I had no idea that things got so bad. I’m so sorry that you had to experience it all. But I also heard that when the teachers came in, everything was taken care of. The students were saved and I don’t think anything about detention came up. Listen, I really understand what it feels like to think that being here is a mistake. I’m trying to see things in a better light, but I still feel like it was a gigantic mistake to enroll. Or just that I’m a mistake. But we’re in this school for seven years, right? One day, all those kids you saw running around, ignoring people in danger and acting impulsively? One day they’re going to be just like the teachers. Skilled, patient and mindful. It’s all a part of growing up. Magic adds greater stakes, but we’ll be okay in the end. I believe that. I have to.

Please, don’t be sorry for writing what you need to! I don’t know how you’re going to take this, but I like reading about it. Since coming to Hogwarts, it seemed like I was the only one with problems. I knew that couldn’t be true, but everyone laughed all the time. They made friends so easily. They go on adventures together. They protect each other. I felt so alone. My issues consumed me to the point where I pushed away everyone that tried to befriend me. Reading your letter has given me insight. It makes me more aware that others are facing their own problems and I shouldn’t be too quick to say someone has it easy.

Oh, I remember that errand. I wanted to join. The rewards sounded pleasing. But I didn’t have anyone to write to, so I skipped. I should have taken a page from your book and left letters around the school. I love the idea of leaving easter eggs in real life. I guess it’s good that I didn’t though. Back then, I’m sure I would have filled those letters with really mean things.

Now I’m realizing that adventure itself wasn’t what I was afraid of. I was scared of a lot of other things that prevented me from going on adventures. I’m scared of getting close to people. I’m scared of being judged by people. I left home in a bad way and if my mother heard I was ‘adventuring’ she would probably think I was happy to be here. But that’s the last thing I want her to think – or wanted her to think, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve just been a mess of emotions for this entire year and I want to be able to enjoy myself here, so I’m trying to stop getting worked up over every little thing. It’s too late to go adventuring this year because I think I’m still scared. But next year, I’ll try. I don’t know if you ever want to meet me, and I don’t know if I ever want to meet you, but in the case that we do happen to cross paths in real life, I hope you’ll show me those secret passages you found. That sounds like a fun time and they would probably make for a great hiding place if things get too overwhelming.

And apologies for how messy my first letter was. There were many dark clouds over my head around that time and while the thunderstorms have not gone away, I can finally see a little sunlight peeking through. I can’t give you all the credit, Nightingale, but your words definitely played a part in that. Feel free to write to me with any problems you might have. If you want to reach me in August, you can send your owl to the Brighton Palace Pier.

Thank you and I will try to go boldly, Captain Kirk.

[leviathans-watching]

chaos causer | chapter 1

includes: mammon x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 2.5k | rated t | m.list | series m.list | ao3

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of chaos causer!! there will be four total chapters that are all already written and one will be posted every three days. to be added to the taglist, click here, and to see links to the original craigslist ad, the series summary, & the full list of tags, click here.

prev | next

please reblog!!

I should switch to eBay, Mammon thinks as he scrolls past the tenth unappealing ad in as many minutes. Why he's even using a human site like Craigslist is beyond him, but hey, you never know when you’ll find a gem. He doesn't sell on it, preferring to stick to Devildom-centered marketplaces, but he has no qualms when buying. Humans generally have crap and junk listed, but sometimes there will be something that appeals to him, something new to add to his collection. 

An ad title catches his attention and he clicks on it with an amused huff. What could this be? 

Alone for the holidays? Mad at your family? Hire me to ruin the night.

I am a human magic user that has recently had a lot of time open up to me with nothing to fill it. Why not use this time in a meaningful way? I asked myself, before dismissing the idea. I’m a young adult willing to pretend to be your date for any holiday dinner or party.

Thanks to my magic, I can play any age, except child (for obvious reasons), and have no problem changing my appearance as need be. I am a skilled actor and promise to sell my character well. Your satisfaction is guaranteed.

I revel in causing chaos and making things worse so I can and will do any of the following at your request: 

Start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion

Openly hit on other guests while you pretend to not notice/care

Propose to you in front of everyone

Pretend to be drunk/otherwise inebriated early on in the evening

Start an actual, physical (or magical!) fight with anyone in the family, either inside or outside of the house

Use the worst manners you’ve ever seen in your life

Be pretentious or pretend to be knowledgeable about something I clearly don’t understand

Never stop talking and overshare way too much

& other things along the same line

I require no payment aside from the free meal. This offer is available to anyone in any of the three realms, as I have experience dealing with an assortment of humans, angels, and demons. Do NOT contact me with unsolicited offers or services.

Text or call me with offers at [your number].

The ad has to be a joke. Has to be! Who would go out of their way to do such a thing, especially on a night meant for family and friends? And who would be crazy enough to hire someone to do such a thing? Mammon can’t wrap his mind around it. 

He reads it once more, this time pausing to imagine what it’d be like if he were to hire you to do something like you’re describing. He can’t deny the smile that grows on his face as he pictures it. Your profile picture looks deceptively normal, with you smiling at the camera, but something mischievous glimmers in your eyes that leaves him with no doubt that you’d be able to wreak havoc in a family if you so desired. 

And it sounded like you desired, judging by the ad. 

Shaking his head, Mammon shuts off his D.D.D., rolling off his bed. Even as he gets ready for the student council meeting Lucifer had made sure he knew about, your ad still lingers in his head, making it hard for him to focus. 

*

“Mammon,” Lucifer says from behind him, voice ice cold. Mammon turns slowly, already dreading the inevitable lecture. How was he supposed to have known the guests they’d be hosting would be offended by his offer to trade valuables? It wasn’t like they had said they were important cultural items! And they were totally overreacting, they could have just said ‘no thanks’ instead of blowing it all out of proportion!

“What’s up, Lucifer?” 

“Your behavior this afternoon was entirely unacceptable,” Lucifer snaps. “You just ruined decades of diplomatic work in a singular meeting! How someone manages to do such a thing is completely beyond me.” 

“It wasn’t-” Mammon tries, but Lucifer cuts him off, eyes glowing red.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” he says firmly. “I am most disappointed in you. Diavolo has spent far too much time and effort on securing alliances and relationships for you to be so careless. It's like you don’t even care about the fate of this realm. Classic Mammon,” he continues, more to himself than to Mammon, “too self-centered to think of anyone but yourself.”

“Hey!” Mammon protests. “I was tryin’ to be welcoming! Trades are an essential part of any deal and I thought maybe they’d like it if they came outta this with some bonafide Devildom treasures! They shoulda been honored I was willin’ to trade with them.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” Lucifer rubs at his temples. “You were just being greedy, once again. Honestly, Mammon. I have no idea as to why you have such a hard time with your sin. The rest of us are all afflicted by such things as well and we never cause scenes like you do.” 

The shot stings, and he has no retort prepared. Why is he constantly in trouble for his sin when the rest of them can do as they please with it and have no one give a damn? Why is it natural for them to indulge but selfish and bad when he does it? And bullshit, ‘no one else causes scenes’! He can think up at least five scandals caused by his brothers in the last month! 

“I have half a mind to banish you from the council altogether,” Lucifer says, and ice runs through Mammon’s veins. He wouldn’t do that, would he? “Diavolo already has enough on his plate without you causing trouble. Honestly, you’re lucky he’s so kind. If I were in his place, I would not stand for one fraction of the insolence and disrespect you show to him.”

Mammon’s hands clench into fists. So Lucifer cares more for Diavolo than he does his own brother? The realization, while not surprising, is still disappointing. His brothers all think of him as Lucifer does, don’t they? Scummy and troublesome and not worth the time. Anger - it’s anger, Mammon tells himself - stings in the back of his eyes. 

They think he’s that bad, do they? Your ad swims to the front of his thoughts, clear and descriptive. Maybe he’ll just have to prove them right, once and for all.

*

Mammon makes plans to meet you in a small coffee shop in your town. It’s probably easier for him to travel to you than for you to travel to him. When he gets there, you already have a drink, picking at the edges of the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Again, you look deceptively normal, but when he sits, the smile you give him is nothing short of impish. You slide him a drink that had gone previously unnoticed, and he accepts it gratefully.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Mammon says, a little nervously. 

“Thanks for replying to my ad,” you return, brushing the cardboard flakes onto the floor subtly. “I was beginning to think no one would.” 

“I thought it was a joke, at first,” confesses Mammon. “Honestly, I still kinda do.” 

Your smile turns rueful. “No joke, I promise. So, want to tell me about your family?” 

Mammon struggles to find a place to start. “Well, we’re a pretty affluent family down in the Devildom. My brother is close to the Demon Lord’s son, Diavolo, and he’s pretty high-strung, so any time I’m out of line, it's treated as a grave offense.” 

“That sounds tough,” you say sympathetically, and even though he has just met you, his chest warms a little at your understanding. How it that you, a stranger, supports him more than his own brothers do?

“Believe me. My other brothers are annoying too, though he’s the worst. Recently, we got into a spat where he basically told me he thinks I’m the worst outta all of them. He gets on me for things that he lets slide with them and constantly is in my business because he thinks he knows best. It’s really annoying. My other brothers poke fun at me and just get on my nerves, as they make jokes about my intelligence and other things that I can’t control. I’m pretty sick of it, so when I saw your ad it made me want to prove them all right, in a vindictive sort of way.” 

He fears, for a moment, that you’re going to try to talk him out of it, or say he’s overacting, or something, something that will destroy what little composure he has left, but you just nod, pursing your lips. 

“Well, I can definitely help.” You grin, suddenly, light dancing in your eyes. “You’ve come to the right place. Want to tell me more about the dinner itself and each of the brothers I’ll be dealing with and what my approach should be? I find it easiest when I do it with as much knowledge as possible.” 

“You’ve done this before?” 

“Not this situation, exactly, but similar stuff, yeah,” you say with a shrug, as if it’s not the most mindboggling Mammon has ever heard. 

“Huh.” Mammon pauses to take a sip of his drink. It’s not something he would have ordered for himself, but you bought it for him, so he’s definitely not going to say anything. “Well, the night starts off at my house, usually. We all hang out there for a while, which is where I’d introduce you and everythin’, then we head over to Diavolo’s place, where we eat and make polite conversation and all that jazz. It's not a fancy event, per se, but you definitely don’t show up in jeans.” 

“Is that something you want me to do?” you ask. “Show up horribly underdressed?” 

Mammon can’t deny that would be funny. “I’m not sure yet. But that would set a good tone for the evening.” 

“Let me know either way,” you say, and Mammon continues on with his explanation. 

“Okay, so first is Lucifer,” Mammon sighs. “He’s my older brother and the one I always get into fights with.” 

“Wait,” you interrupt, “like Lucifer, Avatar of Pride? Oh shit,” you say when he nods, “so you’re Mammon, Avatar of Greed?” 

“Uh, yeah?” Mammon raises an eyebrow. “Is that an issue?” 

“No, no,” you say hastily, waving your hands. “You said affluent, but I didn’t know you meant that affluent.” At his mystified expression, you clarify. “Your family is kind of a big deal to us humans. You’re like, the demonic version of the Kardashians.” This doesn’t help him, so you just wave your hand. “Never mind. No, it’s not going to be an issue, it just surprised me.” 

“Okay,” Mammon says slowly. “Anyway, he can be a real asshole. He’s got a big stick up his ass and makes it his mission to let everyone know. And then Levi, one of my younger brothers - I’m the second oldest, by the way - uh, he teases me when he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on, so it gets on my nerves. He’s an otaku and pretty antisocial. Then there’s Satan. He’s got more beef with Lucifer than I do, which is saying something, and he can be a real dick. Thinks he’s better than everyone, especially me.” He continues explaining the rest of his brothers, then adds on where you probe. 

“Okay, now that I have a good idea of who you all are,” you say, clasping your hands, “what kind of shit do you want me to pull. I’ve pretended to be an asshole but only where my ‘partner’ couldn’t see, but I’ve also done shit right in front of them before. Depends on what the person wants.” 

Mammon thinks for a moment. “Right in front of me, but I’ll pretend to be so smitten that I don’t notice. And as far as the stuff on your ad goes, feel free to do any and all of it. Wherever you see an opening, try to cause some trouble. You mentioned in your ad you can use magic?” 

“I can.” Pride is evident in your voice. “I’ve got a sorcerer's license and everything. I’m proficient in many different areas, including dueling, which is why I’d be willing to get into a magic-based fight, and I have experience in most types of spells, charms, and curses.” 

“Impressive,” Mammon murmurs. He’s not going to encourage you to get into a magic-based fight, not against his brothers, since that’d be horribly unfair to you, but it’s helpful to know. “We’ll see where the night takes us on that. For now, just plan on being a complete and utter menace.” 

“Got it.” Again, that sly mischief is in your eyes, and it sends electricity down his spine. “I swear I’ll do my best to do my worst.” 

Mammon snorts. “That’s all I ask. And as for payment, I know you said only dinner but are you sure you don’t want any other compensation? I feel bad, puttin’ you through this and you getting nothing in return.” 

“No, but thank you. Seeing everyone’s faces is its own reward,” you say. “And if we’re eating at the Demon Lords’ castle, then I at least know I’m eating good. So really, don’t worry about it.” 

“If you’re sure.” Mammon’s still dubious, but he’s not going to push. “Hey, feel free not to answer this, but why put that ad up in the first place? Isn’t there someone you could be celebrating with instead?” You get a funny look on your face, and Mammon suddenly feels bad for asking. He’s not prone to regret, and the feeling sits heavy in his stomach. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “That was awfully invasive of me.”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt softly. “It’s only natural to be curious. And to answer your question, not really. I have friends, of course, but I don’t wish to intrude on their holidays, and my family, well. Let’s just say they’re not a viable option.” You laugh, but it’s decidedly less mirthful than before. “I figured at least this way I’d get some fun and a good meal. Do something I enjoy rather than feeling sorry for myself.” 

“Oh,” Mammon says after a moment. “Well, like you said, the food will definitely be good, and if you don’t get at least a little bit of fun out of it, well, then, we did something wrong.” 

“I’ll remember that,” you say, some of your spark returning. “If there’s anything else you think I should do, or if you have any other ideas, text me.” He already had your number from setting up this meeting. “And if not, then I look forward to seeing you next week.” 

Because, yep, the dinner was next week. How Mammon would survive until then, he didn’t know, but excitement already crackled under his skin.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

[moriiartist]

Xisuma is like dream in ways; admin, green, mask. Why not make a fic about that? When the reader goes to HC after DSMP, X falls in love with them, but reader is scared of him because of his similarity to dream. He grows on them though, and then love <3333333 You’re scar writings always make my day btw pls keep them coming! <3

‧₊ BRUTAL

PAIRING: C!Xisumavoid x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Healing what’s broken is hard work, but some people are worth the effort.

WARNINGS: Language, self depreciation, implied/referenced violence, implied/referenced abusive relationships, implied/referenced death, poor self-care, panic attacks, PTSD symptoms

A/N: GIRL HELP, I BLACKED OUT AND WHEN I WOKE UP I HAD WRITTEN FIVE THOUSAND WORDS. This is honestly the most self-indulgent thing I think I’ve ever written for you guys, so... I’m kinda exposing myself to the masses😅. I was thinking of season 8 while making this, but it’s kinda ambiguous. (Oh, and I did combine 2 requests for DSMP!Reader x Xisuma, so if you requested something similar to this, I hope you enjoy!)

There’s a certain mindset that you have to have to survive those years you had spent in your own personal hell, a certain fire that had to burn within to look at yourself in the mirror, to face the countless scars that mottled your flesh, and know the story behind each one.

It was supposed to be fun, to just… hang out and play with your friends. Pick stupid fights, prank people, and walk away still knowing that the other didn’t really hate you. Wouldn’t that have been a fucking fantasy, huh?

Now, having lived through several wars, a dictatorship, a portion of your home being blown to kingdom-come at least thrice, and a mind-controlling viny red egg thing taking over the server, such dreams were laughable, at best.

Whoever came up with the concept of limited server lives was either a sadist or didn’t fully understand the implications of how it would feel to be constantly on guard, your fight-or-flight response shot to hell from the near-permanent adrenaline rush you coasted on seemingly every moment of every day. To be fair, though, you don’t think that anyone would’ve predicted just how perverted the mechanic could become when put into the wrong hands. 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true- there was one person who did. (Your hands white and shaking on the pommel of your sword, frozen in place as you watched him drive an arrow through-)

You don’t really remember how you became tangled up with Dream. You don’t really think it matters, in the grand scheme of things. However you had met, whatever you had done to become close, you had fallen for the masked man’s honey-laced words and saccharine promises, and had held his hand as he walked you straight through the gates of Hades.

There’s a certain mindset you had to have in order to live in the Dream SMP, but the moment you and the rest of the players that had managed to survive were suddenly spit back out into the World Hub with no prior warning or reason given… well, it felt as though everything you had learned over the years was suddenly useless.

Disorienting felt like too bland a word to describe the abject confusion and dawning horror you felt when it became obvious that the traumatizing events that had transpired on the SMP were, for lack of a better term, well known.

Those few visitors that Dream had whitelisted for a day or two? It turns out that they had not been quite as oblivious to the barely-contained tensions and conflict that brewed underneath the cheery façade that the admin and famous speed-runner had tried to maintain, and it hadn’t been long before word had spread that everything was not as it seemed in your server. (Trying to hold back a gag as tears flooded your eyes, the echoing sounds of explosions and screaming fuzzing out as you struggled to focus on reality-)

Based on what you overheard, though, both from other players and through the channels of knowledge that seemed to just kind of… manifest… between worlds, the actual specifics of what had happened hadn’t made their rounds yet- none of the wars, the betrayals, the horrors that you had been forced to endure (and commit).

Consequently, people seemed to mostly be focused on the fact that a whitelisted server had turned to anarchy- a phenomena that was completely unheard of in modern times, when admins were put through such a thorough vetting system before they were granted their abilities. 

Dream’s status as one of the most famous players in this era was really only the cherry on top of the pie.

In some ways, having everyone know the bare minimum was worse than when you felt isolated, alone with nobody beyond a few tenuous allies at your side. The hushed murmurs that seemed to follow your every step as more and more players realized who you were, where you had come from. The eyes that seemed to scorch holes into the back of your head, even more than usual.

Even one person’s attention was enough to put you on edge, but having people traveling between servers outright stop and stare at you only made you painfully aware of just how vulnerable you were without gear. Prime- sometimes it was hard not to believe that the gods had it out for you, personally. (Maybe you deserved it-)

Despite all the attention you had received, though, receiving an invitation to join Hermitcraft was the last thing you had expected. 

The group was widely known for being… well, hermits. The only time they really interacted with other people outside of their group was during MCC, the championship games in which only the most elite players were invited to compete in. Even then, they were too busy to stick around for the festivities afterward- something about how they had too many projects they all had to work on to stick around.

If you were being honest, you didn’t quite believe their excuses at first. I mean- who would have that much work to do on a world that they’d spent years in? However, after you had first been contacted by the group it had quickly become obvious that their server operation was wildly different from anything you had seen before.

They called each world they worked on a ‘season���, and they were meant to be impermanent. Every one to two years or so, they abandoned everything that they had been working on- their builds, their Redstone contraptions, their weapons and armor all left behind. Archived. Collecting dust in some long-forgotten shulker. (Gods- you couldn’t even remember the last time you had heard the term ‘shulker’, much less seen one)

Naturally, your knee-jerk reaction was: “What the fuck.”

It was… absurd. Utterly, completely insane. Nobody in their right mind would ever give up something that they had worked so hard for without a fight, especially with how rare it was to make something without it getting griefed or looted almost immediately upon its completion, sometimes even before that. 

It took a hell of a lot to convince somebody to just- hand something like that over with no expectation of getting it back. But these people did, for seemingly no reason. Was it their admin that orchestrated it? Was there some kind of instability that forced them to leave? Were they just fucking crazy?

That was what was so scary to you about accepting their offer- you had absolutely no idea. About anything.

Despite how honestly fucking terrifying it was to live in the Dream SMP, you had to admit that there was at least some familiarity with how things were run. You kept to yourself and the few allies you had, trying to keep as much out of the way of the Big Bads™ as much as physically possible. You traveled light, kept your valuables close- coming home to find your house half-blown up wasn’t an unusual surprise. Nobody went to the crater that once was L’Manberg anymore, not unless they had a death wish.

Life was hard (Gasping for breath as you awoke from yet another nightmare, the sticky sensation of your sweat clinging to you feeling more like blood as his face flashed before your eyes-), but it was the same for everyone. You had been fine. 

However, now you had nowhere to go. You’d been thrust from a familiar environment, albeit a hostile one, into a completely unknown situation. There was no other server that you were traveling to, no arrangements made- in essence, you were stranded.

So, despite your initial shock, that was why you found yourself accepting the offer that had been extended to you. It would be stupid not to, especially when you had nothing to lose. Not anymore.

Your first impression of the Hermitcraft server was… strange, to say the least. The admin had arranged for you to join when they switched to their newest season, so you would start off the same as everyone else in terms of resources. So, blessedly, the wealth gap was going to be far less intimidating than you had initially assumed, but- you don’t know- it was just… weird.

The first thing you were greeted with as you stepped through the hub portal was the excited chatter of multiple players, laughter as they greeted one another and fooled around while they waited for the admin to log on. It was definitely new for you to wake up at spawn and not be immediately greeted by something unpleasant- the obstacles that had been built around it in the early days of the SMP, or worse, later.

The momentary hush that settled over the group wasn’t exactly something you were used to, either, feeling your skin start to burn as several sets of eyes snapped to you, alerted to your arrival by the buzzing of their communicators. Prime- where was Tommy when you needed him? 

Despite how abrasive the kid could be, spitting out insults and threats with his signature cackling voice, he was one of the first people to make you feel at home on the SMP, giving you a tour and making you laugh at his childish blustering. If he was here, you know that he would’ve made some comment about how jealous all of his wives would be at the staring. It hurt to admit it, but gods you missed the blonde. (Watching as he dragged the teen away to exile, the signature grin etched on his mask seeming to ooze with smug victory as he ripped what little the kid had left away-)

Awkwardly, you offered your greetings with a half-hearted wave, picking apart the players in front of you with guarded eyes as they each introduced each other to you eagerly.

The first thing you noticed about the group was how unconcerned they seemed to be with their own safety as they welcomed you to the server, excitedly chattering amongst themselves as well as with you about their upcoming plans for the season. That alone was enough to knock you off-kilter, but when the short parrot avian- Grian, you remembered- offhandedly gave you an invitation to build near him, you couldn't help the incredulous snort that escaped you. Honestly, did these people have no sense of self-preservation?

However, it quickly became obvious to you that, no, this was just their normal. 

As you assessed the group, you became painfully aware that… well, these people had never gone through what you had. For most of them, their skin was smooth and unmarred beyond the occasional thin scar- clearly remnants of a respawn (except for that one brunette, who was mottled with them), or wounds that had been treated with health pots. Their faces were bright, practically filled with a kind of luminous joy as they interacted with one another.

Casual touches weren’t met with flinches or a hand reaching for a weapon out of reflex, nor was there any animosity between the groups that seemed to naturally form as time went on, each Hermit treating the other kindly regardless of how close they were.

These people… these people had never had to endure what you had. Couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain of what you had witnessed. (Watching as the person you loved most in the world fade away, replaced with a monster that reveled in the power he leveraged over other people)

You pointedly ignored the way that the singular tattoo of a heart inked on the inside of your wrist ached at the thought.

It was hard to ignore the way that you seemed to stick out amongst the group, the hard line of your shoulders and the wariness in your eyes setting you apart from the rest of the crowd like a wolf in a doghouse. Despite their friendly advances, the others picked up on it as well, smiles fading ever-so-slightly and bodies shifting nervously as you passed them by.

You couldn't blame them- after all, you weren’t one of them anymore. Not as you were left envious, yearning for the easy camaraderie they shared, and the affection that had been denied to you.

If you thought that was bad, though, the moment you came face-to-face with their admin was even worse. So, so must worse.

By some universal stroke of misfortune, another funny trick that the world seemed so fond of pulling on you, Xisuma was… well, the resemblance he had to him was undeniable. 

A cursory glance was enough to set your heart pounding in your chest, the dark green color of his bodysuit melting into a sickening lime green within your periphery. You weren’t breathing when your eyes snapped back to him, your panic spiking at the sight of his mask before you finally, finally realized that it wasn’t who you thought it was. He wasn’t Dream.

That split-second comparison, borne out of a survival instinct honed throughout weeks, months of never knowing when the next hit would land- that was enough for your brain to start making connections.

Xisuma had an affinity for green, wearing a dark steel and silver mask that covered his entire head, barring a panel of tinted glass to see out of. While intimidating, it also served to obscure his expressions. Body language wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to read, especially in someone you had hardly even met.

The way he spoke, the confidence in which he held himself with- it was like looking at the distorted reflection of your own personal demons, memories of a blank smile making you shudder as you instinctively made yourself smaller, less noticeable. Sinking back into the shadows as he chatted with the rest of the group.

Of course, because you couldn’t have anything nice, he spotted you the moment you were distracted, having been reluctantly pulled into a conversation with Scar about something or other- cats, probably?

Whatever small amount of tension you had lost in your body returned tenfold when you felt the heat of someone’s gaze burning holes into your back, natural defenses springing up as you turned to make eye contact with him. Your hand fell to where the pommel of your sword would normally sit at your hip only for your fingers to meet air. Gods damn it all. 

“Xisuma, right?” you said first, hefting the next best weapon available in your arsenal aloft- words. Giving him the opportunity to speak first would be conceding the first move to him, and you were sick and tired of having to react to other’s attacks.

Keeping your face and stance neutral, you gave him no hint that you were off-put by his sudden interest in you. You weren’t sure if you succeeded.

He inclined his head, stepping forward to offer you his hand. Wound as tight as a bowstring, you stared at it for a moment before accepting. “Yup, welcome to Hermitcraft.”

The majority of his palm was covered by a thick gauntlet made out of some kind of thick cloth (Kevlar, perhaps?), but his tan fingers warm and calloused- the hallmark of a person more than comfortable with a blade. He squeezed your hand once before letting go.

Up close, the admin’s eyes and brows were visible through the thick glass that made up part of his helmet. What features you could make out were relaxed enough, but there was still that slightest crease between both of his dark brows, that thoughtful, seeking facet to his eyes. Intelligent, determined. Curious.

Xisumavoid was dangerous, you decided. The best thing for you to do would be to fuck off to some distant corner of the map, hole up, and keep out of his way for the remainder of the time you would spend here.

A decent plan, but only if Xisuma had gotten the memo.

The Hermits spread out across the island you had spawned on fast, forming their own little communities. You noted how the groups you had picked out earlier seemed to, for the most part, stick together- Grian, Mumbo, and Scar forming their own faction to the north of the island that everyone had spawned in on, while the creeper and wolf hybrid that had reminded you so much of Sam and Ponk (well, before everything happened) set up east.

And you? Well, seeing as everyone stayed relatively close to one another, you built yourself a boat and planned to get the hell out of dodge, traveling a couple thousand blocks until you felt safe enough to settle- that is, until you ran into a slight problem. 

It turns out, another difference between the Dream SMP and Hermitcraft was that your previous server had lacked a world border- a magical barrier that was set up by admins to prevent players from ranging too far and causing… issues, to put it lightly. Lag. Which is very, very dangerous for the health of a server and its members.

Nobody really knew what lag was, exactly- whether it was a glitch in the foundations of the universe itself, or the act of irritated gods. It was the kind of thing that crept up on a server, distorting the world into something a step to the side of reality. Redstone machines would break, animals wouldn’t spawn… hell, it was difficult to even get around when there was an overabundance of lag.

However, besides all the normal issues that would throw a wrench into the workings of a server and possibly lead to player deaths, the biggest (and most dangerous) aspect of lag was its effect on respawning.

There were too many stories, too many tales about how people just… disappeared after they died. Eaten up by the endless, unforgiving expanse of the void that whispered beneath bedrock.

Just thinking about it made you shiver.

Lag was easy enough to manage on most servers, there really only being ten to twenty players on average per world. However, that was when you were speaking about average players- those who made their way through life goofing around with friends, perhaps even entering some low-level Hypixel competitions, but never really going beyond that. 

Even the Dream SMP, despite how glitchy the server got during Doomsday, never really had an issue with those sorts of things. Any big Redstone machines were either used only once, or were broken too quickly to make much of a difference in the world’s operation.

Compared to everything you had ever experienced, Hermitcraft itself was practically a myth- a beast of a server, filled with some of the most legendary players to grace the universe. It was a miracle that their worlds could handle the sheer enormity of their bases and builds, so in theory, it didn’t surprise you that their admin would have to take extra measures regarding lag safety.

However, that didn’t exactly mean you were expecting it when you ran into the world border, a giant, shimmering wall of magic and static electricity that resisted any attempt you made to breach it. A cage keeping you in, trapped where you would really rather not be.

It made sense to you, really. If players were kept within a small space, then the server wouldn’t have to use as much magic to support an infinite expanse. It was logical.

Still, it fucked up your plans, forcing you to settle in the eastmost chunk of land you could reach- an arid savannah biome. (You resolutely tried to forget a different savannah biome, swallowing back the sting of guilt-regret-guilt that threatened to pull you under)

Those first few weeks you dedicated yourself to the grind, getting as much food, supplies, and armor as you could, spurred on by the ever-present knowledge that you could be attacked at any time, have everything taken away once more. You worked your way through the cave systems that wound underneath your hastily constructed base. You set up an experience farm near one of the many spawners you had found, allowing yourself to invest just that little bit of time and effort to get levels.

All-nighters were common, nightmares even more so. The dark circles under your eyes were as well-worn as your armor, practically looking like bruises, and even on your best days you were never not aware of just how exhausted you were.

It was on one of the bad days that Xisuma decided to stop by for the first of his many little ‘trips’ to your base.

You had taken a quick break in between tasks, promising yourself that you would get back to work soon, but… well, you had nodded off, leaning against the trunk of the gnarled acacia tree you had left to shade your farm. It was comfortable there, where the warmth of the air and the shade of the leaves created the perfect temperature, and where you had taken off your heavy breastplate and helmet to shed some weight.

Your eyes slipped closed, and when you opened them, it was to see the silhouette of an armored figure looming over you.

You couldn’t even remember it- one second you were blinking awake, and the next you had pinned them down, one hand holding a dagger to his throat and the other pinning their wrists down. You were panting, great, heaving breaths that sounded almost like sobs, heart jack-hammering in your chest like it wanted to break free.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you choked out, your entire body trembling from fear and adrenaline.

They coughed, and all of the sudden you recognized the helmet, the armor, the dark eyes that watched you with equal amounts of shock and concern. Xisuma- the admin- was held under the weight of your body, glossy netherite armor digging into the soft of your belly through the flimsy shirt you wore. You had attacked the admin. The admin, who now had full reason to get revenge on you.

Your panic only grew at the realization. No- no. You were not going to have a panic attack right now. You couldn’t.

You were up and stumbling back before you could blink. “Fuck- I am so sorry. I don’t- I don’t even know what came over me. I shouldn't've- sorry, sorry.”

Slowly, carefully, Xisuma sat up, telegraphing his movements like one might do when faced with a frightened animal. You didn’t see that, though- all you could see were the weapons strapped to his belt, the 

The cloying fog of fear descended over you, threatening to send you spiraling into a panic. Your heart felt like it was racing a mile a minute, breaths coming faster and faster until the familiar sensation of nausea welled in your gut and crept up your esophagus. 

It could’ve been seconds or minutes you spent like that, unseeing, unfeeling, desperately trying not to gag, but when you dragged yourself back into consciousness someone was pressing your hands to their chest, ribs flexing as they took exaggerated breaths. Their voice slowly filtered through the fog of panic that set over you.

“-You need to keep breathing, okay? In for five, out for seven. Can you do that? Follow my breathing, like this.”

Finally registering the pinched and burning feeling in your lungs, you inhaled, the dizzying rush of oxygen making you lightheaded as you blindly tried to match the rhythm of the other person’s inhales and exhales. Their heartbeat thudded heavily through the flesh and bone of your hands, and you distantly noted that their accent sounded a lot like Xisuma’s.

Wait.

Glancing up through teary eyes (when had you started crying?), your gaze met smooth metal and glass, a familiar dark gaze, brows drawn heavy over his eyes into a concerned scowl.

Ah. That… makes more sense.

Distantly, you noted that Xisuma had very long eyelashes.

When you didn’t seem like you were about to pass out from hyperventilation, you removed your hands from where Xisuma had placed them on his chest, curling into yourself to appear smaller as you noted just how close together you were.

“I’m sorry,” you tried again, wiping away the few tears that had escaped from your eyes with shaking hands. “Didn’t know it was you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he responded almost immediately. It took the gentle squeeze of his hands for you to realize that he was holding your shoulders- not tightly, but enough so that warmth seeped through his gloves. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Hunching your shoulders, you desperately searched for any indication of his mood as he drew back- a clenched hand, stiff shoulders, anything, but the admin’s every movement was slow and nonthreatening. Controlled.

“I just wanted to check on you since none of the other Hermits have seen you since the start of the server. I’m sorry for scaring you so badly.”

A flicker of surprise flashed across your features before you schooled them into a scowl once more. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t fucking sneak up on me next time.”

Xisuma huffed a laugh. It didn’t sound amused. “I guess I deserved that.”

You eyed him then, screwing your lips into a deep frown as your gaze jumped from his mask, to his hands, to his mask again. After a moment, you abruptly exhaled and stood up, dusting off some of the dirt that had stuck to your armor.

“Alright, well, I’ve got work to do, so…”

He stared at you for a moment (and you could practically picture the dial-up noises his brain was making) before scrambling to his feet as well. 

“Wait- wait! Uh, is there- do you have panic attacks often?”

Your posture, which you hadn’t realized had relaxed somewhat, tensed once more. “What’s it to you?”

Xisuma stooped to pick up the breastplate he had taken off to help you, hastily affixing it to his frame before answering your terse question. He seemed uncharacteristically sheepish, running a gloved hand over the smooth dome of his helmet in what you assumed was a nervous tic.

“It’s important to me to be aware of people’s needs, being an admin ‘n all. Panic attacks are part of that, so I remember what triggers they have.”

Against your will, both of your eyebrows quirked up. It would be so, so easy for him to be saying that just to use your ‘triggers’ (weaknesses) against you. Hell- you had gone through this song and dance so often you could do it with your eyes closed. 

It’s too simple to get attached to someone when they said all the right things, easier so when they knew what they were, knew you, planned to string you along like a wooden marionette…

But, you had lived with a very good liar. Lied yourself. And Xisuma? You hadn’t known him very long, but some long-buried part of you recognized his sincerity and ached.

The knowledge hurt, stung more than when you had dove into the ocean with a couple arrows still stuck in you, but he wouldn’t use this against you.

Xisuma took your thoughtful silence as a negative, backpedaling quickly. “Of course, you don’t have to tell me, you’ve barely even met me. Sorry for being pushy, I’ll just take my leave-”

“I don’t like surprises,” you said, interrupting him cooly. “I don’t like TNT, rockets… loud sounds in general are pretty shit- and that includes yelling. Green, too, but that’s mostly bright green. On bad days I can’t really stand it at all. And… I don’t like not seeing people’s faces. Stresses me out.”

He seemed too shocked to speak, the muscles of his throat working for a moment as if he was opening and closing his jaw, before exhaling deeply. The sound was relieved, if a little breathy. “Great. Well, not great, but- y’know. Thank you. For telling me.”

You huffed, stuffing your buzzing nerves deep, deep down. “Yeah, yeah. Keep it moving, I’ve got work to do.”

Suffice it to say, you see a lot more of a certain masked admin after that. (Not him, never him, but the change isn’t entirely unwelcome)

It irked you at first, having to contend with visits that reminded you a little too much of better worse times, an unfeeling porcelain mask and raised voices in dark rooms; being watched, kept pliant and tucked out of the way. But Xisuma’s presence once you got past his appearance was so, so much different.

Dream had always reminded you of the ocean, stormy and beautiful and alluringly dangerous. The comparison was even more so fitting once you had gotten past his mask- not his real one, but the facade of friendliness- and realized that he was as deadly as a riptide current.

If Dream was the ocean, then Xisuma was the endless night sky, constant and comforting. He never pushed you to talk during his visits, never toed the line of your boundaries or asked why you couldn’t talk about certain things or couldn’t listen to certain songs. It was almost as if he didn’t want anything from you- which, of course, was total bullshit, but the thought was nice anyway.

Against your better judgement, you could almost call him a friend.

The two of you were sitting on your porch one evening when you finally worked up the urge to ask the question that had been tearing at the back of your mind, watching as the eggshell blue sky slowly bled and burst into a riot of orange and pink.

“Why are you doing this?”

Xisuma looked up at you, the side of his helmet brushing against your legs from where he was propped up against the siding. “Hm?”

You gestured vaguely with a hand, cheeks heating slightly. 

“Y’know, visiting ‘n all? I thought it was to- to watch me like D-” your voice failed, and you cleared your throat awkwardly before you went on. “Like he did. But, uh, you’ve been around for a while and you haven’t made any moves, so… what’s up?”

He stared at you for a moment, silent, and you hastily looked away from his face, picking at the material of your pants. They were some kind of super-durable fabric that Impulse had given to you for helping him with his Redstone farm, and the sheer amount of pockets sewed into it had quickly made it the favorite pair you owned.

With Xisuma’s gentle coaxing, you had gradually began to interact more with the Hermits. It wasn’t anything too major, just helping them out with a few things here or there in exchange for payment. You knew business, understood it, so your dealings with them were easier to manage than any other social situation- or, Prime forbid, a festival.

The admin finally seemed to find his voice after a moment, turning fully to face you this time as he spoke. “Did you think think I was only here to- did you think I was guarding you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep the movement as nonchalant as possible. “I mean, it’s not like it hasn’t happened before.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, the curse tinged with a disbelieving sort of amusement.

A laugh tore itself out of your lungs. “Hels, X, I didn’t even know you could curse. Seems like your pristine reputation isn’t all that it’s made out to be, hm?”

He chuckled along with you, and, against your permission, you felt your muscles relax at the sound. Fucking- damn him. Damn him and his ability to make you feel safe, secure. Loved.

“I don’t know where you got that idea from. It’s not like I’m a nun,” he said, a grin curling the edges of his voice into something sunshine-soft, even as swathes of darkness cut across the sky above your heads. 

You rolled your eyes. “I dunno, with you I can never be quite sure.”

He was silent again, the two of you watching as stars flared and blinked into existence one by one. So silent, in fact, that when his hand slid up your calf you jolted.

“I would never- you know I could never be like Dream, right? Gods- I would never forgive myself for doing a fraction of the things he did.”

Inhaling sharply at the mention of the man who had broken your heart, broken you, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly before tears could begin to well up. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Xisuma squeezed your leg comfortingly, and you could feel him shift closer until he was almost fully leaning against you.

“I love you.”

This time, you let the tears slip down your face.

Maybe you didn’t deserve a new start. Maybe it was too difficult, would take too much energy to get back on your feet again after being held down for so long.

But, if you could have this, then you wouldn’t mind giving it your best shot.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Quid Pro Quo (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer is entranced by the law student in his class. Request: professor!spence is absolutely whipped for a law student taking his course, maybe with an elle woods type personality? all very fluffy & soft! Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader (Check CWs) Category: Fluff Content Warning: Professor/Student romance, kissing, *use of the phrase "dolled up," and Reader wears pink Word Count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST

There is a strange, powerful, and mystical quality to libraries. Something about the smell of old parchment and dried tears from undergraduates who’d bitten off more than they could chew.

But even more so, it was the knowledge that you were surrounded by thousands of hours of hard labor by strangers. The amalgamation of years of study, experiences, and editing. Each book represented a life unlike every other. In that moment, lost in a sea of carefully curated language and dewy decimal labels, I was looking for one in particular.

And, although I was certain that he probably had his charms about him, it was hard to feel anything but hate about just how compelling the tale of David Rossi could apparently be.

“Shit! How is it gone already?!” I said in what I thought was a hushed tone. I suppose even that would have been too loud for the silent floor of the library, but I couldn’t help it. Not when the empty spot on the bookshelf was taunting me with its pristine, shiny coat of polish.

“Son of a bi—“

“Can I help you find something?”

“Ah!” I shrieked, definitely not in a hushed manner whatsoever.

The man behind me seemed completely unfazed, which was surprising considering how jumpy Dr. Reid could be. I figured from the goofy grin on his face that he’d expected no less from me.

“Hello Professor,” I laughed in lieu of an apology that I gave, anyway. “Sorry, did I disturb you?”

“No, you haven’t caused any problems at all. But is everything alright? You seem…”

His eyes scanned over my normally dolled up appearance to find it particularly lacking it’s usual flair. But it would be hard to describe the look in his eyes to be anything close to disappointment. It was more of a hesitant, bemused interest when he settled on the term, “Frazzled.”

“Well, I’m looking for this book, and the website said it was returned today but now I’m here and...” For flair and good measure, I gestured to the offending bookshelf as I stated matter-of-factly, “No book.”

He laughed but listened intently for the words that were sure to follow my exasperated sigh.

“I heard it was popular but I didn’t think it was that popular.”

Then, like an angel or some other academic equivalent of a divine being, he asked, “Are you looking for David Rossi’s book, by chance?”

“Yes!” I yelled, quick to cover my mouth when I remembered that we were, in fact, still in a library.

As if to play on the joke, Spencer cupped his hand over his mouth before leaning forward to whisper, “I have a copy of it in my office, if you need to borrow it.”

“Oh my god, really?!” I shouted once more. I didn’t bother hiding my enthusiasm anymore, but he thankfully seemed to find it charming rather than grinding. Of course, it’d be hard to complain when the yelling was nothing but the most blatant praise of, “That would be the best! You’re my hero, Professor!”

To save myself from any potential embarrassment from his reaction, I darted straight past him towards his office. With a skip in my step and the sound of his laughter and heavy but careful footfall behind me, I arrived to find the office I’d only been in a few times before.

My anxiety spiked the second I’d cornered myself in the room, surrounded by books that were just like the rest, but felt different somehow. I knew it was because they belonged to him, but I didn’t care. I’d let my naive, lovesick mind differentiate him a million times over.

Because there was something different about him. Something comforting and peaceful about his presence. The first day I’d met him, he’d made note of my appearance in a way that I’d always loathed. He pointed out the plethora of pink, and my mind ran through every possible insult that could follow.

But then he smiled, a simple, heartwarming curvature as he explained, ‘Your wardrobe reminds me of an old friend.’

Although I couldn’t tell if he’d meant it in a literal or figurative sense, it hadn’t mattered to me in the slightest. All I’d heard was that he looked at me and felt at home, exactly as I had with him.

So then why was it so terrifying when he approached me, with a book in his hand and that calming aura in his eyes?

“Thanks,” I muttered, hoping he’d write it off as typical power dynamic awkwardness rather than entitlement.

Per usual, though, he seemed nothing but charmed and charming.

“What do you need it for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Cite and source,” I grumbled without considering that I’d might need to explain. But the knowing nod he gave assured me that I hadn’t. I did, anyway. It felt nice to complain to someone who could at least empathize. “It’s up to me to make sure that he actually said what they said he said, the way that they said he said it.”

Spencer’s lips curled into his mouth, and I recognized the attempt not to laugh at the way I stumbled over my words despite his best efforts.

Deciding that I hadn’t minded the way it sounded when he laughed, I continued in an even more dramatic fashion, “After all, and I don’t know if you knew this, Dr. Reid, but you academics have a tendency to get a bit slapdash with facts and figures.”

“Do we now?” he hummed, turning to eye the door he’d left cracked open before he took another step towards me. “Since we’re trading insults, I’ll have you know that you’re starting to sound like a real legal scholar with anachronistic language like that.”

Even I was surprised by the giggles that started to flow from my lips. Once he’d heard them, however, I found no reason to hide them.

“Mmm, nothing better than exchanging pretentious, archaic legalese in a stuffy library on a beautiful Friday afternoon,” I sighed happily.

After a quiet, contemplative moment, where the two of us obviously struggled to figure out where we were meant to go from here, Spencer cleared his throat and announced with a wavering voice, “You know… you don’t actually need the book to check the citations.”

I had not known what he’d meant, but I’d had an inkling, and I didn’t want to sound like a fool if I’d been wrong about something so bold.

“What do you mean?”

“I can just… tell you if the page numbers are right,” he said simply.

I waited for the catch. It didn’t come.

“Really?” I snorted when I’d realized I’d been right all along.

“Give me any quote, and I’ll tell you if it’s verbatim, as well as the page, paragraph, and line number. You can even check, and if I’m wrong, you get all the gloating privileges in the world.”

A tempting offer.

“But if I’m right, then I get to help you. Then you’ll be free to… do whatever it is normal grad students do on a Friday afternoon.”

A less tempting offer.

The prospect of leaving him sooner was quite plainly the opposite of what I’d wanted, but I also knew that if I didn’t accept his challenge, then I would have to leave immediately, and that seemed like a worse fate.

I waited. I watched him hold his breath and wiggle his fingers anxiously from within his pocket before I met his nervous, narrowed glance with my own.

“You’re on.”

And off we went. Still cozied up in the confines of his office, the two of us dove straight into the hundreds of citations like there was something to be excited about. In a way, I suppose there was. I knew that I had certainly enjoyed each time that Spencer spotted another book he was familiar with. His lips would pucker, every so often catching between his teeth as he struggled to remember something he’d read years before.

While he was happy about the ever-evolving pursuit of knowledge, I’d just been happy to be able to witness his brilliance up so close and personal. Literally — the two of us had been crammed on a loveseat in his office that really seemed made for one. At first, he’d kept his distance, but eventually his enthusiasm got the best of him.

I hadn’t minded. In fact, I quite liked the way his thigh pressed against mine, warm and pliant all the same. The smell of his cologne was subtle but pleasant because it had smelled like him. And each time he would lose his composure and gesticulate, his hand would brush against mine. Goosebumps followed every time.

But as the night went on, both of us became less animated. It wasn’t an exhaustion like what I was used to; it was a sleepy sort of calm. That serenity that comes with your favorite blanket wrapped around you, or a stuffed animal tucked under your arm.

I turned to the man to my left, unabashedly ogling the visage that seemed chiseled from marble or some other precious stone. I felt hearts fill my eyes, knew that I was being reckless in my appreciation, but I continued, nonetheless.

When he’d caught me, however, I knew that I had to say something. The only thing I could think to say, though, was hardly as eloquent as I’d wished I could be.

“I’ve gotta say, this is the best time I’ve ever had doing this.”

“I’ve never actually done one, but I’m inclined to agree,” he quickly agreed despite the simplicity to the thought. “And thank you, for letting me memorize your Bluebook.”

“It was my pleasure,” I laughed.

I tried to think of any reason to stay. I tried to contrive some scheme to leave something behind so I could run back in moments later, after I’d taken a minute to work up the nerve to say something more compelling than what came next.

“I guess I should… head out, huh?” I whispered. I immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Oh, yes. Don’t stay on my account,” he muttered in a dejected tone. When he saw how sad that made me, however, he forced another smile for me. “I should probably head out, too. Before the maintenance crew comes to yell at me again.”

“Do you want me to stay and defend you?” I offered.

“No. I couldn’t possibly subject you to that,” he politely declined.

“Shoot. Here I was hoping for an excuse to stay.”

Shit! Did I just say that out loud?!

The silence that followed was palpable. The tension even more so. My professor, who had managed to maintain his composure for the entirety of the several hours of close contact, just stared at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Sorry—" I started, just as he’d begun, “You don’t…”

We both paused once more, our mouths floundering with unintelligible sounds that absolutely no one would call English.

Spencer was the one who collected himself first, and I would forever be haunted by that embarrassing fact.

“Sorry. I was just going to say that… you don’t have to leave… If you don’t want to.”

I considered the carefully chosen language and forced myself to reframe the question in a way I’d desperately wanted answered.

“… You want me to stay?”

And to my surprise, Spencer’s voice didn’t break when he answered, “Yes. I do.”

It was the clarity with which he spoke that demystified the moment. That strange, anxious undercurrent began to fade, ebbing into the abyss of the unknown ocean in a way that felt like returning home. We both found ourselves stuck staring into the vastness of each other’s irises that slowly narrowed to make way for eyelids and dilated pupils.

I was the one to move forward first, but he certainly hadn’t hesitated to return the motion in kind. We began to drift together with the pulsing tides until we were close enough to one another that I could feel his breath tickling my nose. I listened for his heartbeat in my own but found the noises too similar to tell.

Before our lips ever touched, though, I laughed — a quiet, shy little sound that had certainly been fit for the silent floor of the library.

And I couldn’t help myself. He was just too cute.

“What’re you doing, Professor?”

Spencer must’ve jumped a full inch off the couch in his shock. Just as I’d done when he originally found me cursing at a bookshelf, my professor yelped in surprise at his own impropriety before he broke into a string of nonsensical half-uttered apologies.

“Oh— my god, oh, god. I don’t—I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t—”

Again, without being able to stop myself, I gave into my heart’s calling.

With both hands clapping over his cheeks, I pulled him back towards me until our lips met. It took a few seconds, a few clumsy movements before they were able to actually close together. There was a lot of nervous laughter and hands going wild until Spencer finally recognized my touch as nothing close to anger.

Slowly, muscle by muscle, I felt him relax. His lungs, once pumping shallow and thready breaths, filled with enough oxygen to calm raging anxieties. The oxygen filled his blood once more, which all promptly flooded to the cheeks still pressed against my hands.

Once the kiss was over, I let them stick around a few seconds longer. I squished his cheeks that tried to break into a lovesick grin, and I laughed at the silliness I saw.

“Just kidding,” I said. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

Then, as if he’d taken the comment as a challenge, Spencer kissed me again. It wasn’t until I’d immediately started to climb into his lap that he realized the position he was in. His hands that had been stuck in the middle of his desire and his fast-disappearing professionalism, wrapped around my waist and tried to hold me just far enough away that my lips couldn’t reach his.

Not far enough away, however, that I was forced to abandon him entirely.

“Wait!” he squeaked in the most endearing fashion, “No, but… you’re right! W-We shouldn’t… you’re my student. It’s not right to take advantage of that.”

I tilted my head to the side hoping he’d understand the question.

He did. His answer was a bit lacking, though.

“You know… power dynamics…” he mumbled absently, with his eyes drifting back to my lips every few seconds, “and… quid pro quo…”

When I chuckled at his hopelessness, it woke him from his reverie long enough for me to explain, “Quid pro quo requires some kind of perceived benefit in exchange. Considering I already have the top score in your class, the only benefit I’m expecting is a chance to kiss you.”

Without skipping a beat, Spencer answered with more conviction than I’d ever heard from him, “My god, you’re attractive.”

“Thanks!” I chirped, only to be cut off seconds later by his lips on mine.

It was a welcome end to the conversation. A perfect way to spend a beautiful Friday evening. Although we’d stopped swapping pretentious language, the feelings that filled the few atoms that remained were certainly of ancient origin. The kind of thing that people would write stories of for many millennia to follow until we were no more.

“Again, please,” I whispered against his lips when he stopped to take a breath. And when he did, I decided that I still hadn’t had enough.

“Again,” I said, hoping I never would.

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[silver-tongued-bby]

Discretion

Pairing: Dom!CEO!Loki x Reader

Summary: After dropping out of grad school and moving back home you expected very little of your summer. That is until you realise your neighbour, Mr. Laufeyson, has other plans. Set in the mid 90s!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dom!Loki fic - though it's not super bd/sm heavy, it explores themes of voyeurism, dub!con spanking, humiliation and degradation. Sexual acts are described including vaginal fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving) and sexual intercourse (f/m). Smoking is also described. Please read at your own discretion (hehe see what I did there?).

Words: 5,026

Author's Note: I'm excited to say that this is my first ever submission for a challenge! Specifically it's for @boxofbonesfic's Hot Girl Summer Challenge.

I chose prompt 12 (Home for the Summer) and a slightly edited version of quote 17 ("If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me sweetheart darling.") then for kinks I chose voyeurism/exhibitionism and degradation though there's a sprinkling of praise kink in there too.

Not sure why when I think of summer I think of mid 90s summers but here we are. This kinda went places I didn't expect, nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

...

God you were bored.

Stretching out on the lounge chair you sighed, letting your shoulders droop with the long exhale.

“Oh honey, you can’t keep sitting out here in the sun.” Your eyes rolled behind your dark sunglasses, turning towards your stepmother as she came down the stairs from the deck of the house.

“It’ll give you wrinkles dear,” she was standing beside you now, hands on her hips as she stared down at you. She was wearing that ridiculous hat again- the one with the brim as wide as she was tall.

“Carla, darling, we can’t all hide away from life in hopes to look as good as you do.” You lazily gazed at her, sitting up to find your pack of cigarettes on the side table. Taking one out you brought it to your mouth and lit it with your gold plated zippo. You took a long inhale before exhaling right in her face, “when I tell people you’re 53 they can hardly believe it.” Her eyes widened- you’d found her drivers license months ago and held the knowledge of her true age over her since then. You continued, ”my compliments to your doctors. Oh and Botox, kudos to Botox.”

Her little hands formed fists, fake nails pressing tiny neon-pink crescents into her palm.

You laughed, lounging back in the chair as you leisurely took drags off your cigarette. Smiling to yourself as you counted- three, two, one, before Carla shrieked and turned.

“Arthur! Arthur!” She screeched, running back up the stairs to tell your father.

You were a little less bored now, but making Carla’s face turn red could only give you so much satisfaction. You knew your father could care less, they were both about to leave for the Côte D’Azur tomorrow for the rest of the summer, leaving you here alone to “consider the consequences of your actions.” Or however your father had put you dropping out of school after one year of graduate studies in Classics.

He couldn’t help himself from belittling your degree while you were studying, then once you’d decided it wasn’t for you his lectures changed to be about “never giving up” and “seeing something through.” You both knew he simply didn’t want you around- he just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Now those will definitely give you wrinkles,” you heard a smooth, silky voice coming from behind you that made your heart race. Smiling, you swung your legs over the side of your chair, taking off your sunglasses and snuffing out your cigarette.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you started, eyeing the lithe figure as he emerged from the shadows. He held his hands in his pockets, his crisp black trousers fit perfectly to his frame. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the pale skin of his toned forearms. You were well aware of the small scraps of white fabric covering your body, and you enjoyed watching his eyes trace over your skin. You’d lusted after him ever since your father had moved here during your first year of college. You’d met him at one of Carla’s Christmas parties- she invited everyone from the gated community over, including your neighbour, Loki Laufeyson.

“I’m so sorry if my stepmother’s incessant shrieking ruined your afternoon,” you grimaced, taking a sip of the ice cold vodka soda beside you. “Is there anything I can do to remedy the situation?” you asked, your eyes innocently meeting his.

He chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already thought of something,” he said under his breath loud enough for you to just make out. He strolled towards you and took a seat on the lounge chair beside yours. “I’m actually here to see your Father. He’s asked me to check in on things here while him and Carla are away.”

You rolled your eyes- of course he did. You caught Mr. Laufeyson staring at you as you did that, his expression darkening slightly and his eyebrow raising before he continued. “I am surprised to see you here- last I’d heard you were studying in Europe. Graduate studies in Classics, right?”

“Yeah. It didn’t exactly pan out.” You looked down, cursing yourself for feeling your face grow hot. The last thing you needed was your gorgeous neighbour feeling sorry for you.

“Laufeyson you bastard, you’re late!” Your Father was coming down the stairs, jovial with his greeting.

Loki got up from his seat to meet your father. “Arthur,” he said, shaking his hand. “My apologies, I got held up at the office. It’s been insanity since the new acquisition.”

You tuned out the rest of the business jargon and settled back into your seat, facing the other way. You put your sunglasses back on, wincing once your heard Carla’s shrill voice coming from above.

“Is that Loki Laufeyson? Oh it’s been ages!” she gushed.

“I suppose it has.” You could tell she’d pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the clear discomfort in his voice.

“So I can trust you to keep an eye on the place?” your father chimed in.

“Certainly, although it seems your daughter is perfectly capable of doing so herself.” Mr. Laufeyson rightfully pointed out. You raised an eyebrow, wishing you could see the expression on your dear dad’s face from your position. Mr. Laufeyson was probably the only person in this community that could and would tell your Father that- his annual appearance in Forbes certainly cemented the position.

“You never know with kids, Laufeyson. No matter how old they get you can’t trust them to carry through with something. Just wait until you have one of your own- then you’ll know what I’m talking about." He laughed loudly. You scoffed. Fucking asshole.

“I see. I’ll keep an eye out then.” Mr. Laufeyson said cooly.

“Right well feel free to pop by anytime, we leave tomorrow morning. Here’s the number of my cellular telephone- I always have it on me you know.” Your father was obsessed with his clunky mass of plastic- he brought it everywhere he went, mostly to brag about it to strangers or talk obnoxiously on it to avoid conversations with you or Carla.

“He really does. Even in the bedroom!” Carla giggled, causing you to shudder in disgust.

“Of course, well I should be on my way.” He stepped back over to you. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around. Here’s my information,” he placed a thick, black and white business card onto the small table beside you. “In case of emergency.”

You pulled your sunglasses down your nose and slid your eyes up his body, biting your lip as you met his stare. “I’ll be sure to remember. See you around, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He considered you for a moment and you thought he was about to say something else before he nodded and turned, heading for the gate.

You settled back in your seat and nestled the headphones of your discman over your ears. You pressed the play button, the beat of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy” drowning out whatever Carla and your father were arguing about once their guest had left.

...

It was much later that evening that you finally slipped from your room to find some dinner. The house was dark- you knew your father and Carla had an early flight. Grabbing a wrapped plate from the fridge that the housekeeper had left you you headed to the back deck to eat. You kept the lights off as you watched the dim foamy white of the ocean’s waves hitting the rocks below, finding peace in the sound.

Finishing your meal you were about to head inside when you saw a light come on out of the corner of your eye. From where you were sitting you could see into a room on the top floor of Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Interesting- you’d never seen into this room before, the windows that faced your father’s house were usually shuttered. You laid back and lit a cigarette, choking on the inhale when you saw Mr. Laufeyson emerge, shirtless, his eyes dark and hungry. He was pulling a woman behind him, a blonde, her shirt unbuttoned to expose a lacy red bra. Once he stood at the edge of the bed he turned around to kiss her, his hands moving to the clasp of her bra. Undoing it, he pulled away to slide it down her arms before turning her around and unzipping her skirt, leaving her in just a high waisted red lace thong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of you. He flung her on the bed- from your position you could see it all as if it were happening in a room adjacent to yours. Climbing over her he dipped his head to capture her lips once more as he ground against her. Your legs clenched together as you continued to smoke your cigarette, the combined effect of the nicotine and the scene in front of you making your head spin.

His hand trailed down to the red lace covering her heat as he continued to kiss and grind against her. Slipping his fingers in you found you were doing the same to yourself, feeling the hot wet of your arousal. He had pulled away from her now, watching her face intently as her back arched up off of the mattress, her hands clutching his toned arms. He was saying something to her, his eyes going from her face to her heaving breasts as he continued to work his hand inside of her. A flush was blooming on her chest, her mouth open and her eyebrows drawn together. You were moving your hand in time with his, your arousal coating your fingers. His movements became faster as he continued to speak to her, smiling menacingly before her back arched fully off the bed, her hands grasping at him. Withdrawing from the dampened red lace his fingers glistened in the light, wet from her release.

He easily picked her up off the bed, carrying her to the window sill. He roughly pulled her panties down before he undid his trousers then lined himself up at her entrance. He pressed into her, her back flat against the glass and his face visible beside the back of her head, his eyes closed. You imagined how it’d feel, the cool glass against your back, his warm hand firmly gripping your thigh, his strong arms holding your legs open as he fucked you. He began to move inside of her then his eyes opened, staring straight at you in the darkness. Your heart beat faster as you felt yourself blush- surely he couldn’t see you out here, you were shrouded in the dark. You could barely see the outline of your hand as you brought it to your face for another puff. You froze- the cigarette.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, quickly removing your hand from its position and shakily putting out the cigarette on your dinner plate. Sliding your chair out quietly you chanced one last look towards the window- he was smirking in your direction as he continued to move against the blonde. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you backed away towards the porch door. You could swear his eyes didn’t leave you once and it sent shudders through you. You made your way back to your room and lay awake for hours, each time you closed your eyes you saw his piercing blue-green stare and filthy smirk.

You must have drifted off at some point since you eventually awoke to silence- an anomaly. You’d usually wake to Carla’s screeching laugh as she spoke on the phone to her friends, or she’d send the housekeeper Marie to wake you. You checked the clock beside you- 9AM. Carla and your father were long gone by now.

You smiled at that, stretching lazily before cranking the radio and dancing around your room as you got ready, the sunlight beaming in through your window. Making your way to the main kitchen you froze, last night coming back to you. The way Mr. Laufeyson had looked out at you as if he were expecting you to be there. Did he leave the blinds open on purpose? You shook your head, no way he’d be that forward. Sure he flirted with you every now and then, but nothing beyond that. You pushed the thought from your mind for the rest of the day.

...

A week passed quickly, you spent a lot of time with your friends, going shopping, to the beach, or local restaurants. You didn’t spend much time around the house so you hadn’t seen Mr. Laufeyson since the “incident”. On Friday you met up with some friends midday and got a ride to one of their parents’ beach houses. You spent the day there, drinking and laughing as you enjoyed the sun. Your friends dropped you back off at your place at around 7pm, you were pleasantly buzzed but looking forward to a quiet night in.

It was so hot outside you decided to take a dip in the pool. Cranking the radio in the backyard you decided to skinny dip- no one was home anyways. You sighed as your heated skin met the water, cooling instantly. You did a few laps before lazily swimming a backstroke and humming the music on the radio when you saw something coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. Standing upright you saw Mr. Laufeyson walking towards you from the door to the backyard, a smirk playing at his lips. Your heart started beating quickly as you realised the position you were in, remembering his hungry stare from last week. You swam over to the side of the pool to meet him.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking down at you.

You bit your lip and innocently looked up at him. “Hello, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No worries. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Laufeyson?” you asked, noticing his eyes taking in your body under the water. He definitely knew you were naked. Your thighs clenched together at the thought.

“I was coming to see you about something that happened last week that had me… concerned. I thought I saw someone out on the balcony, late at night. Was that you?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, your heartbeat picking up to a mile a minute. “What day was this?”

“Last week Friday.” His face was serious as he strolled over to a pool chair, pulling it closer to the side and taking a seat.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone was out there then.” The words came out a lot quicker than you’d meant. You were usually pretty good at lying but something in his voice made you want to tell him the truth, to please him.

He tsked. “I’ve seen you lie better than that. Try again darling.” He sounded bored as he reached for your pack of cigarettes on the side table. He raised an eyebrow in question as he drew out a cigarette. You nodded, nervously biting your lip as he lit it and crossed his legs, leisurely smoking while he stared you down.

“No words, little one?” he teased, smirking down at you. “Did you at least enjoy the show?”

You huffed- this was humiliating. How dare he? You found anger quickly overtaking your initial shock and embarrassment as you made your way to the pool stairs and got out. You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled when the smirk slid off his face at the sight of your naked, wet body. Two can play this game. Walking over to him you grabbed a towel off the chair and wrapped it around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here,” you grabbed the cigarette from between his long, muscular fingers and took a long drag. “But I didn’t see you last Friday night. And I definitely didn’t see you fucking that blonde-” your eyes widened at your own confession.

He stood to his full height and stepped closer to you, looking down at you once more. You backed up a step, feeling the lounge chair behind you.

“Drop the towel,” he growled, the hungry look in his eyes fully directed at you this time.

“Listen-“ you started to explain yourself.

“Drop. The. Towel.” He enunciated each word with his crisp accent and perfect voice.

“I knew it- I knew you wanted to fuck me.” You smirked at him triumphantly as you took another drag.

“If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me darling,” he threatened, stepping closer.

“Oh really?” You laughed, taunting him. “And what are you going to do, Mr. Laufeyson?” You blinked innocently at him, enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw clenched.

Suddenly he grabbed your jaw, firmly but not painfully as he brought his face inches from yours, your eyes locked.

“You fucking brat.” He roughly pulled the towel down, exposing your body to the warm air. He pinched the cigarette from your fingers, extinguishing it under his shoe on the concrete. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

Before you could answer he spun you both around and sat on the lounge chair then pulled you over his lap, angling you so your top half rested on the chair, your hips over his. One hand firmly held your lower back in place, the other smoothed over the skin of your ass and you squirmed. His hand came down to spank you, hard. “First lesson- don’t fucking move until I tell you to.” You whined, your face burning.

His hand came down again in the same spot, causing you to hiss and grip the plastic of the chair in one hand and his thigh in the other. “Second lesson- always answer me.”

You were humiliated but you found yourself growing even more wet with each spank. First there was the pain, then a wave of pleasure that intensified when he smoothed his hand over the skin he’d hit.

He gave you another slap, “what did I just say?” He growled, his hand roughly gripping the skin this time.

“T-to always answer you.” Your voice was small as you stuttered, overwhelmed by the way he was making you feel.

“Good girl.” You'd felt a tiny swell of pride at that. “I’m going to spank you three more times. Count them for me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, worried if you didn’t answer he’d add more to the list. His hand came down on your other cheek, hard and fast.

“One,” you counted, taking a deep breath. Before you could forcibly relax your tense muscles his hand had struck your cheek once more, causing you to hiss.

Your finger tips were pressing into his thigh as you let out a breath, the sharp pain receding. “Two,” you licked your lips and tensed in anticipation of the third and final slap.

After a few seconds you relaxed then turned to catch his eye- he was darkly observing you with his jaw clenched. Suddenly he hit the skin once more, this time the hardest, causing you to cry out.

You composed yourself with a quick breath. “Three.”

“Well done, darling.” He was gently running over the sore skin with his large hands. You could feel his erection under you.

“I wish you could see how lovely you looked on my lap, taking your spanking so well.” He dipped his hand between your legs. You sucked in a breath when you felt his fingers brush along your wet slit causing you to writhe on his lap.

“My poor, little thing. You’re dripping,” his voice was pure sin as he brought his glistening fingers up to your face.

He shifted, his strong grip helping you off his lap so you stood before him on shaky legs. You bit your lip, face growing hot as suddenly became fascinated with your fingers, twisting them painfully.

He stood then, and brought his finger under your chin to guide your eyes to his. He wore a satisfied expression, a slight grin at his lips as he took in your naked form.

“Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson darling?” He asked, his eyes mocking yours.

You quickly nodded, feeling fully exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go upstairs so I can fuck you?”

Your cheeks burnt as you nodded quickly again.

“Answer me darling,” he dropped his hand from your chin.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

A slow, filthy grin spread across his face. “Lead the way,” he motioned towards the stairs.

You bent to reach for your towel on the ground. “Ah, ah, no need for that darling.” His words stopped you. You shivered as you stood back up, another wave of heat pulsing through your core.

You tentatively walked up the steep stairs and he followed closely behind. You could feel his gaze on you with each step.

Once up on the patio you looked back at him, his eyes dark with hunger. You gave him a shy smile before leading him inside. You stopped- should you bring him to your bedroom?

Before you could finish your thought he slid up behind you, his hands coming to grip your waist. “Where shall I take you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

He let go of your waist to circle you, stopping before you. “Do you want me to ruin you on that god awful couch?” He looked over his shoulder to the gaudy floral couch Carla had ordered special from Italy. She wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t company sit on it in fear of stains.

You smiled at the idea of ruining the couch with Mr. Laufeyson, knowing Carla would lose her mind- even more so if she found out how it got there. “Yes please.”

He pulled you towards it then gently guided you to sit at the edge of it, angling you so you were in one corner. His hands splayed over the skin of your legs, gently pushing them apart. The feeling of the cool air of the house on your slit gave you goosebumps.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he knelt between your legs before he turned to press a kiss to your thigh close to your knee. He then bit the skin there, earning a sharp inhale from you before he soothed it with his warm tongue.

“Tell me, darling. Did you touch yourself? Did you play with yourself as you watched me?” His velvety voice sent an involuntary shudder through you, his eyes capturing yours.

He nipped at your thigh with his teeth, marring the skin. You yelped then swallowed. “Yes! Yes, I did.”

“Good girl.” He moved to repeat his actions further up the inside of your thigh while he gently ran his fingers up and down your other thigh.

You were trembling while you watched him, each bite a little harder than the last as he got closer to your wet core. His eyes met yours once more then he blew a stream of cold air over your slit, causing you to gasp sharply. He smirked before letting his lips barely graze over your clit, your hips moving slightly before he brought his arm down over them to hold you in place.

He ever so gently pressed a kiss to your clit before gently running his tongue over the sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from you. You could feel your wetness dripping down onto the couch below as he continued to delicately tease you.

“You taste divine, darling. Better than I’d imagined.” You whined at his words- the idea of him alone, picturing what your cunt tasted like brought you to the edge of an orgasm.

He smiled wickedly up at you. “So close already? Poor thing.” Bringing one long finger to your slit he gathered some wetness before pushing it fully within you, forcing a loud moan through your lips.

“It’s okay darling, let go. Give into me. I promise it’ll make you feel so much better,” he hummed against your clit before tenderly sucking on it. He bent his finger within you, hitting something deep that made you cry out. You quickly came, your release squirting around his finger and wetting the couch below.

He kept up his movements as you rode out your high. Once your breath returned to you he pulled away and removed his finger, licking his lips as he wiped your release off his chin.

“Third lesson- good girls always get to cum.” He winked at you with a grin before standing.

He leaned over you, caging you in on the couch before capturing your lips with his. You hummed at the taste of yourself on him, his tongue gliding against yours.

He straightened back up then pulled you up off the couch and guided you to face the other way. He led you so your knees were on the couch, your arms resting against the back of the upholstery. You heard the sound of a zipper before feeling the tip of his hard length slide against your folds. You instinctively arched your back at the feeling, pressing yourself up against him, causing him to groan.

“Such a greedy little brat,” he said, smoothing his hands over the skin of your ass. “You want me to fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?”

“Yes- yes please, Mr. Laufeyson. Please fuck me,” you begged, rubbing yourself on him once more.

With that he thrust into you, holding himself still once he was fully seated within you, giving you a chance to adjust. You’d gasped at the sensation- he was clearly well-endowed and you were thankful he gave you a moment. Willing your muscles to relax you looked back at him before grinding your hips against his.

His eyes were dark with lust, his jaw clenched in a way that made you involuntarily squeeze him as he started to move within you. You were panting as he set a pace, the angle of his thrusts hitting the same spot he’d found quickly before.

You’d turned back around and folded your forearms over the back of the couch, arching yourself against him even more. He growled and picked up his pace, his hand firmly gripping your hip. The angle had you moaning desperately, the feeling of him so deep within you making your fingers and toes numb.

“That’s it darling, take my cock within your needy little cunt. Fuck- I’ve wanted to ruin this tight little pussy for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he rasped out between thrusts and your mind went blank, all you could respond with were desperate moans.

He stopped abruptly and pulled you up before sitting himself on the couch and pulling you over his lap so you were straddling him. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and your mouth went dry at the sight of the musculature under his pale skin. You slid your fingers under the fabric, gripping his firm shoulders as he positioned himself under you.

You moved your hips in a circle over him, enjoying the feel of the very tip of him swirling within you.

“You little tease,” he grinned darkly, running a hand through his hair. “Ride me, darling. Show me what you can do.”

Your cunt clenched at his words and his wicked smirk spread. You took the opportunity to bring yourself down to grind against him, wiping the smug look off his face.

You quickly set a pace as you rode him, his hands on your ass guiding your movements. You were panting as you continued your movements, the angle bringing you close to your finish.

“Are you going to cum, darling?” His voice vibrated through you, and you nodded.

“Yes- fuck, Mr. Laufeyson. You feel so good-“ he continued to guide your movements, moving his head closer to your breast. He brought his mouth around one of your nipples, gently sucking at the nub. You arched into him, moaning at the sensation.

His tongue ran against your skin in his mouth, bringing another moan from you before he sharply bit down on your nipple, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm. You moaned his name over and over as you rode out your high, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. As you came back to yourself you felt him twitch within you, filling you as he reached his own finish.

You watched him as he came, mesmerised with his blissful expression, his long eyelashes touching defined cheekbones. His eyes fluttered back open and he gave you a smirk- god help you he was fucking gorgeous.

He gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up, the combined fluids from your finish trickling down your thigh. You were happy to see some hit the couch as you moved off him.

You strolled to the bathroom to clean yourself up and throw on a t-shirt and panties, passing a damp cloth to him once you returned. You pulled a cigarette from the pack you had on the kitchen counter, then headed to the balcony as you lit it up.

You were leaning on the balcony, watching the now dark waves when he joined you. You smiled at him, offering him your cigarette. He took a long drag as you leant on the balcony’s edge.

“So,” you trailed off, not sure what to say.

“That was fun,” he exhaled then smiled at you, his expression mischievous.

“Yeah,” you agreed, relief filling your chest. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Of course darling, we have all summer.” He came behind you, pulling you against his chest as he ducked his head so his lips were beside your ear. ”And you have quite a bit to learn.”

End Notes: Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

-

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

-

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

-

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

-

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

-

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

-

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

-

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

-

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

-

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

-

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

-

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

-

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

-

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

-

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

-

It was his father.

Of course.

-

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

-

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

[mbti-notes]

hi i’m an istj. i fear the problem im going to describe is resolved by being more Te proactive and taking on more leader responsibilities and failing. just typing that out makes me feel burned out and miserable. anyway i get involved with groups that align with my values to get things done but it always feels like i somehow join things that aren’t as efficient as i’d want them to be or stagnate. at the same time that i have strong opinions about what to do i resent having to take on more responsibility to enact it. i want to be part of an established, moral, process/group but it seems like everything is in flux all the time. just making sure: is this Te-Ne dysfunction ?

Your question is about type development. An important aspect of type development is understanding the weaknesses and flaws of your type, in terms of the ways that your type tends to misuse functions. You seem to believe that your problem boils down to a simple lack of desire to lead in group situations (weak Te?), but it probably goes far deeper than that.

Si-Ne problems often manifest as a general aversion to change, specifically, unwillingness to change how one looks at a situation, which would then significantly alter one's approach to it. Imbalance between Si and Ne becomes a very unhealthy stubbornness when one is also prone to Si-Fi loop that thinks in terms of pure absolutes. In essence, you believe what you believe and you want what you want, and nothing and nobody can break through that mental wall. Perhaps not even you.

Auxiliary development is meant to help with Si extremes and Si-Fi loop stubbornness by making you care more about empirical facts (Te) than your frustration (Fi). It isn't always easy to develop the auxiliary function when you come to believe that it interferes with what makes Si feel most comfortable (e.g. "just typing that out makes me feel burned out and miserable"). If using the auxiliary function feels so "tiring", it doesn't mean that you should avoid using it. Quite the contrary. It's an indication that you haven't yet learned to use it properly, which means further development is necessary.

Te wants efficiency, that much is true. However, what separates immature Te from mature Te is how exactly one conceptualizes "efficiency". When Te is immature, one has a very rudimentary understanding of how to be efficient. For example, one is likely to believe that efficiency is achieved through assertiveness or even brute force, i.e., "making" things happen despite all the obstacles in the way. Is it any wonder that using Te feels tiring, then? You're essentially forcing yourself to swim against the current. Si doms are painfully aware that their energy is finite, so they quickly run out of steam.

However, Te isn't really about mustering up energy. This is not what makes TJs smart, strong, and formidable. Mature Te conceptualizes efficiency as reducing the amount of energy required whenever possible, which is why they have a lot of energy to take on very heavy workloads - some people call it "working smart". This is done through facing the empirical facts of a situation head on and learning to work closely with them, which makes it far easier to make them work in your favor.

Your problem requires a two pronged attack:

Are you able to change how you look at situations in order to improve your approach (to address Si-Ne imbalance)?

Are you able to face the empirical facts of the situation and work with them rather than against them (to develop better use of Te)?

Wanting to be part of a process/group that aligns with your values in order to enact some good in the world is an admirable thing to strive for. Presumably, the other people involved in the group have the same sense of mission, otherwise, they wouldn't have joined. However, what you fail to take into account is that people aren't generally single-minded.

Human beings are complex because they are motivated by a multitude of factors, whether they realize it or not. They are full of psychological conflicts, contradictory desires, irrational impulses, old baggage, and unconscious bad habits. And when you bring people together, all that stuff comes out and creates complicated entanglements. A "group" only becomes a "team" when it is able to overcome those psychological obstacles together, and it can be a very long process of learning how to maximize strengths and mitigate weaknesses in every individual member. That's why a lot of groups simply fall apart. While your intention to join the group seems simple and straightforward (because Si-Te is admirable in its ability to keep things simple and straightforward), other people's intentions might not be so simple. If you fail to take into account the irrational aspects of human nature, you will cause yourself needless suffering.

Your frustration with people is likely a manifestation of your unrealistic expectations of them. Perhaps you aren't able to understand people who don't resemble you, let alone work with them. And you will certainly be doomed to fail if the only way Te knows to deal with individual differences is to force everyone to become more like you. That's an impossible task, not because it requires the energy of a thousand suns as you assume, but because you're choosing to fight against reality. Mature Te would advise that you should first face down the empirical facts of how people operate if you hope to discover the most effective way to influence them. Your repeated experience of feeling disenchanted with groups tells you that you're missing an important piece of knowledge about groups and how they operate.

I'll give you a very simple example from my own life. I used to gather with a group of 30-50 people once a week to conduct planned discussions. The discussions never really started on time despite everyone being in their seats because people weren't focused enough at the start of the session. There was often whispering and sidetalking and such that would go on for about half an hour before the room felt settled and focused.

One method of addressing the problem arose organically. Whoever was the main speaker simply started shushing people and it became a thing. Sometimes, it would even escalate to calling people out, like a teacher scolding a student in a classroom. This definitely made the social atmosphere less inviting and more tense. Sure, people would shut up after being called out, but they became less focused due to seething with resentment. Power struggles aren't great for group morale, especially if it's supposed to be a group of equals coming together for a common cause.

It all sounds quite childish, but these kinds of judgments are useless. You can call people childish, inefficient, incompetent, etc etc, but it doesn't solve the problem. And, worse, being judgmental blocks you from understanding people better and working with them. Perhaps an ISTJ would see this as a "mess", an "inefficiency" that wastes time, and evidence of bad character when people break the rules.

However, if you change the way you look at the situation, you might not be so quick to make such judgments. Actually, it's kind of weird for a bunch of people who know each other well to enter a room and immediately sit down quietly. Humans have a natural tendency to socialize as a way to strengthen interpersonal bonds. Isn't group cohesiveness a good thing, since it encourages better cooperation? If you are able to see the benefits of their chatty behavior and how it contributes to group cohesiveness, then instead of fighting against it, you would think of ways to harness it.

The real problem wasn't inefficiency; inefficiency was merely the symptom. The more primary problem was that a lot of people joined the group not just to "get things done", but also to make friends. The structure of the event denied them from fulfilling that important need and then they were more likely to act out. This problem was discovered when people had a chance to talk about what was frustrating them, which meant that the group had to make space to conduct some uncomfortable conversations.

To address the problem, the group eventually decided that the first 15 minutes would be devoted to socializing and allowing people to catch up, with the explicit promise to get down to business when the time was up. Some people brought drinks, others brought snacks. Some even showed up early to have more time to socialize. It enlivened people and enriched their relationships. Being "officially" allowed to get the chattiness out of their system, they were better able to sit down and focus on the planned agenda. The meeting felt like fun rather than a chore. And if you're interested in a cause, don't you want to recruit more people to support it? Making things more fun is one good way to attract support. You can look at it as wasting 15 minutes OR you can look at it as a 15 minute investment.

Solutions to human problems require:

cognitive empathy: figuring out what's really going on inside people's heads (in Te terms it means working only with the empirical facts of the situation, rather than indulging negative Fi judgments)

strategy: taking the time to work with people and figuring out the best way to help them get over obstacles (in Te terms it means investing energy early and wisely to maximize your returns later, rather than putting effort into the wrong places or only stepping in to tackle mere symptoms of the problem)

creativity: harnessing natural human tendencies to produce something useful or worthwhile (in Te terms in means taking what's already there and transforming it into a NET positive, rather than getting too fixated on every little negative detail and losing sight of the bigger picture)

Te can be a great function for dealing with human problems as long as you overcome the immature aspects of it, such as impatience, bluntness, or inflexibility. Every person is unique, so every group is different. Let go of the idea that there is only one way to approach a problem/conflict and you will start to be more creative in your approach. By accepting the fact that things are always in flux and using empirical evidence to understand and predict how change works, TJs become much more effective and efficient at everything they do. When it comes to people, meeting someone different from you is an opportunity to learn how to deal with that kind of person. The more knowledge you have of human psychology under your belt, the better you get at dealing with people's weird or negative tendencies. If a strategy works, use it again. If it doesn't work, adjust it to fit their psychology better.

In your situation, you see the problem as people being inefficient, so your inclination is to step forward and do something to "make" them more efficient. Humans aren't built with the prime directive to be efficient. They're not machines. Their psychology is messy, so trying to force them to behave like a machine is to force them to go against their psychology. In other words, you're choosing the least efficient approach. The more efficient approach, though it requires more intelligent thinking on your part (you want to become more intelligent, right?), is to properly understand the more primary problem of what's really causing them to be so inefficient in the first place. That is the way to discover the right strategy. If you are able to target those obstacles at the very root, efficiency improves more naturally.

Oftentimes, working smart doesn't require you to step up and be THE leader for everyone. As an introvert, it's probably more comfortable for you to work behind the scenes to talk to people, get a better idea of what they need and/or what problems they're experiencing, and incrementally remove the obstacles that are preventing them from focusing on what they should be focused on. You can't fix everything all at once, so just do what you can to fix what you are able to fix at any given point in time. It's a process and some progress is better than no progress.

[violettelueur]

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI || WHAT KIND OF WOMAN IS YOUR TYPE

| featuring : fushiguro megumi ft. kugisaki nobara + todo aoi + zenin mai from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, she/her pronouns and spoilers from anime (if you haven’t watched ep 8)

| form : imagine

| word count : 2179

| published : 03 january

| synopsis : taking a short break from their training for the kyoto sister-school goodwill event, fushiguro and kugisaki are sent for fetch some drinks for everyone. however, it seemed like they were suddenly ambushed by a few students from kyoto tech leading for a question to be asked to fushiguro ‘what kind of woman is your type?’

| barista’s notes : well well well i think of a lot of fushiguro imagines don’t i? ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but yeah this imagine idea has been in my mind for quite some time but i didn’t know when i could right it since it was during school when i first thought of it but here it is! right now, i am watching akudama drive and i am really enjoying it right now! other than that, i hope that you all enjoy this ‘on the house’ cup of classic black coffee and please come again soon!

“What kind of woman is your type?”

Perplexed, Fushiguro as well as Kugisaki, shifted their heads to the side trying to convey their confusion to the two students that were right in front of them.

From the beginning, since this absurd question was asked, the two first-year sorcerers were buying drinks for themselves and the second years as an errand due to them taking a short break from training since all of them were preparing for the annual Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event that was coming up in a few weeks.

However, unexpectedly it seemed like two of the Jujutsu Tech students from the Kyoto side decided to come to pay an uninformed visit to the Tokyo side to see what they were up against for this year since the usual third-years - who would have participated - were suspended for the time being as well as the main competition: Okkotsu Yuta being aboard right now for educational reasons.

“Depending on your answer, I’ll beat you half to death right here and drag Okkotsu, or at least the third-years, out to the exchange event,” the large Kyoto student threatened to Fushiguro as he then suddenly violently ripped his purple shirt, showcasing his large muscular body before positioning himself in his usual fighting stance as he then suddenly announced, “by the way, my type is a tall woman with a big ass!”.

“Why do I have to talk about my taste in women with a guy I just met?” Fushiguro annoyingly asked as he began to express an irritated expression on his face with the situation that was in hand.

“He’s right. That’s a tall hurdle for an antisocial guy,” Kugisaki unintentionally comedically commented as she pointed at her stoic classmate, leading Fushiguro to express a more vexed expression as he then stated, “you be quiet. This is confusing enough already. You’ll just make it more complicated,”.

“Kyoto, third-year, Todo Aoi,” the male sorcerer introduced himself. “Introduction over,” Todo then announced as he then continued by saying, “now we’re friends. Hurry up and answer, if you prefer men, that’s fine too,”.

“A person’s fetishes reflect everything about them,” Todo explained as he described the reasons why he was asking his question in the first place. “People with boring taste in women are boring people themselves,” Todo passionately expressed as if he was presenting a school project that he was extremely proud of as he then exclaimed, “I hate boring men.”

“The exchange event is where my soul can be free as blood boils and flesh clashes, who knows what I might do if my last exchange event ends up boring me?” Todo rhetorically questions himself as he stays in his fighting posture as if he was ready to pounce at any second with a confident smile on his face.

“Hey, aren’t the Jujutsu Tech schools four-year schools?” Kugisaki asked in a questionable tone since she was perplexed at the fact why Todo mentioned that it was his last exchange event when he was a third-year student.

“Only third-years and under can join the exchange event,” Fushiguro quickly answered Kugisaki’s question as she then let out an understandable ‘Hmm’ to inform her classmate that she acknowledged what he had just told her.

“As a show of kindness, I’ll let you off only half-dead right now,” Todo once again threatened before repeating the question that started this whole situation, “answer me, Fushiguro. What kind of woman is your type?”

“Is this some kind of comedy routine?” the shikigami user angrily asked, as he increasingly got annoyed at what was happening and was confused on why he was picked.

However, it seemed as if Kugisaki was more observant of the other student besides Todo as she started the other sorcerer’s uniform - who she quickly learned was named Zenin Mai and that she was also Zenin Maki’s twin sister. “Is that your summer uniform?” Kugisaki asked in a light tone, as she admired the outfit before continuing with “ticks me off, but it’s nice”.

Looking to the side, Fushiguro looked at his classmate as he began to analyse the situation that was currently going on. From what he could gather, Kugisaki was unarmed and didn’t have her usual hammer with her like she normally did meaning he was wanting to avoid any confrontation that could happen at this moment in time.

‘Not forgiving people isn’t a bad thing. That’s just part of your kindness, isn’t it?’

Well, that’s what his sister said to him one time.

However, before Fushiguro could finally give his answer to the third-year sorcerer, Kugisaki suddenly lifted her hand and pointed with her index finger to the Kyoto students causing expression of confusion to appear on Todo and Zenin’s faces as they didn’t know the reason for this action of hers.

“Fushiguro’s type of woman is behind you,” Kugisaki suddenly commented.

Unfortunately, before the Kyoto Jujutsu Tech students could even turn around to see what Kugisaki was pointing at, Todo suddenly felt something extremely quick and strong being swung across his face as he fell from the unexpected impact leading to Zenin to look at the scene in extreme shock before sighting a black trainer being placed on his cheek leading to her dark coloured eyes to look up to see who the assaulter was.

“Sorry, you were taking too long to move even though I tried to inform you that I was behind. But you continued chatting rubbish about woman type and fighting and whatever came after,” you commented as you looked down upon the fallen student.

In front of her was a female who was wearing a simple outfit which consisted of a pair of black trainers with the paring on the same coloured high-waisted track pants and crop-top, which Zenin wasn’t sure if it was long or short-sleeved since the female also had a bright red track top on to make sure she wasn’t completed covered in the midnight colour. 

Quickly, Zenin pulled out her gun she had hidden in her uniform out of instinct only for it to be suddenly snatched from her grasp, leading to her weapon to be intimidatingly being pointed at her - the complete opposite of what was supposed to be played out. “Too slow,” you quietly commented as you then turned to look at the second-year with a nonchalant expression on your face causing Zenin's face to twist into a fuming expression.

“L/N! Don’t worry, I got your water!” Kugisaki suddenly shouted, as her eyes shined at the scene that had unfolded right in front of her. There was no secret that Kugisaki admired you, even though you were in the same year as her. Since the day you arrived at Tokyo, Kugisaki immediately noticed how strong and knowledgeable you were as a sorcerer and was especially surprised at the fact when you told her you were a grade two sorcerer rather than the higher grade she thought you were. On the other hand, Kugisaki knew a person that admired you more than she ever could, causing her eyes to shift to the person next to her, only to find him looking at you with a shocked expression but also with bright sparkles in his eyes.

Turning to look at your two classmates, you gave them a small smile as you gave Zenin her gun back before you walked on top of Todo’s body to make your way towards them. “Don’t shoot me in the back,” you mentioned to the female Kyoto sorcerer, as you raised your hand up to wave her off before you grabbed the bottle of water Kugisaki had extended to you.

“Thanks,” you said with gratitude as you took a quick sip of the hydrating liquid, before turning back around to find Todo steadily putting himself back up on his feet as he wiped away the dust from your shoe off his cheek.

“What a roundhouse kick that was?” Todo groaned as he clicked his neck before looking at you with a smug look on his face. “So this is your type of woman Fushiguro?” Todo asked, causing you to look at the third-year sorcerer with a perplexed face before quickly turning to your friend, only to see him with his head turned to the side away from your gaze, viewing the nature scene that was in the open. Although, that didn’t hide the deep blush that coloured upon his cheeks.

“Even though your type disappoints me based on her physical appearance,” Todo stated, causing you to have an irked expression on your face, which was truly evidenced with the clear creases on your forehead before the grade-one sorcerer saved himself from your wrath by commenting, “but she is my type on the way she fights, it is very interesting,”.

This comment of his caused you to instantly prepare yourself for an attack due to the statement sounding menacing leading to your curse energy to flow down to your arms and hands as you were ready to cast any spell that was needed to defend both you and your classmates.

“Are you perhaps L/N Y/N?” Todo questioned as he pointed at you, leading you to look at the sorcerer with a surprised look before nodding slowly at his question as your answer. “So you’re the new famous sorcerer that nearly took down Sukuna at that mission ha? The one that uses her curse energy for casting spells as well as creating curse weapons, no wonder why you took me down with a kick!” Todo exclaimed in glee as he picked up his jacket from the ground before turning his back on you.

“Looks like I won’t be bored the whole time,” Todo fondly mentioned as he turned his head back to look at you before starting to make his way to the exit with Zenin right behind, leaving you, Fushiguro and Kugisaki in confusion on what just happened.

“Since when was I your type Megumi?” you quickly asked Fushiguro, once you saw the Kyoto students disappear from your sights leading to the shikigami user to give Kugisaki the side glare since she was the one that revealed his whole secret crush on you.

“Since the day he met you L/N,” Kugisaki teasing answered for him before she started to make her way back to the track field, leaving you and Fushiguro by yourselves in an awkward situation for the dark-haired boy.

Kugisaki wasn’t wrong. Fushiguro really did like you the second you arrived at Tokyo when you had finally enrolled to Toyko Metropolitan Curse Technical College and quickly admire you as a sorcerer when you were to pass Gojo’s field test extremely quickly, surprising the other first-years since you were the last one to arrive. His admiration and love for you only continued to grow when you were fighting with Sukuna back at Eishu Juvenile Detention Center and somehow managed to go toe to toe with the King of Curses like you and him were on the same level.

“Don’t blush now Megumi,” you cutely commented as you poked his pale pink cheek leading him to give you an offended look before relaxing his express once he saw your smile. “So I’m your type ha?” you asked again in a playful tone causing Fushiguro’s blush to deepen before he began to rub the back of his neck in nervousness.

“Come on, come on,” you pressed on as you desperately tried to get an answer from Fushiguro while a glimmer of hope shone through your eyes hoping what you heard from both Kugisaki and Todo was true.

“Yeah...you are my type,” Fushiguro quietly mentioned as he shyly looked at you in the eye leading you to clearly see his handsome face. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at the sight, even though he was gazing at you like he was confident, you acknowledged it was the opposite and really appreciated how he was coming out of his shell to tell you how he really felt about you. 

Wanting to calm the dark-haired sorcerer, you flicked your finger in the middle of his forehead leading to Fushiguro looking at you in surprise at the sudden action, before you softly mentioned, “you’re my type too Megumi. Come on, the others are probably waiting for us.” 

Gently taking his hand in yours, you began dragging him the same way Kugisaki left you both since you both needed to make it back to the track field. “Also, thank you for buying me the bottle of water,” you suddenly mentioned, which once again, led Fushiguro to look towards you in surprise since it was Kugisaki that told you that she had got it for you.

“I know Kugisaki is a bit too stingy to buy me anything except when it comes to our girl shopping trips, so I already knew it was you that bought me the bottle,” you explained, as you turned to look at him showing the water bottle in your other hand, causing the shikigami user to uncharacteristically smiles at you back.

Yeah, his type of woman was you.

[proserpina-magnus]

If you do nsfw alphabets, can you do one for marlene (if not that’s completely okay!)

Hi! Sure you can, I hope you like it (it’s not the best but oh well). Mwah.

Marlene Mckinnon NSFW Alphabet

Reader: described as fem (or with female genitialia) since Marlene is hc’d as a lesbian in this.

Warning; pure smut Headcanons. oh and this isnt checked for spelling.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Shes prettty sweet, definitly helps you out of any bounds or restraints if they were used during sex, she likes to play with your hair (or style it). She would possibly read you a chapter of your favourite book or tell you the latest gossip. She will most definitely run you a bath (and that would probably lead to another round), and she would even wash your hair or draw little shapes on your shoulder blade.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Her favourite body part on herself if her shoulders, she’s always been a bit insecure about them (since they are a bit bigger) but once she began playing quidditch she really started to like them.

Her favourite body part on you is probably just your entire body, she enjoys running her hands almost every wear and gripping the flesh (bonus points if you have doughy and bigger potions, eg hips, thighs, stomach).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She loves pussy eating for this very reason of getting to watch and taste you, it’s basically her favourite activity and she’s always fantasizing about it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Her first time was with Mary in fifth year, it wasn’t even supposed to go that far. They began kissing just to try and you know the rest. There weren't any romantic feelings between them and they agreed to never talk about it again. But she sometimes really wishes it would become a regular thing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

She’s pretty experienced with her own body, so she uses her own knowledge and applies it to you. She asked quite a lot the first few times, what you liked and didn’t. But now she’s an expert at pleasing you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Most likely when you’re on top, especially because she gets to lay back and watch you (which is her favourite thing to do). She loves to hold your hips, guiding your pace and smiling if you get frustrated.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends, she definitely makes more teasing comments but they aren’t really funny (well atleast not to you). Sometimes though, something just happens (either “embarrassing” like a sound or movement) and you both just kinda burst out laughing. Your first times together was more light hearted, but as you go on it get more serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

She is pretty well groomed, she trims it more often than goes completely bare, for friction reasons. She just prefers to be well kept, but she doesn’t care if you are or not.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

She’s very caring sometimes, even if she’s teasing. She’s always shushing you gently with a grin, and she loves to stroke your hair when you’re just about to cum. She doesn’t really realize how intimate she is.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

She loves it, obviously she enjoys sexual moments with you but she also likes time to herself and loves exploring new things (like toys). She doesn’t do it as often when you both get together, but she still does it occasionally.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

She has many, but she doesn’t always do them at the same time. She likes to branch out and try new things. Definitely dom and sub roles is a huge part (she’s a switch, but probably prefers dom). She loves hair pulling and spanking, along with dress up ( she fucking loves lacy lingerie sets or when you wear her clothes).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Her dorm, though she prefers in the shower or bath. She really likes those quick fucks in a closet, or in the locker rooms.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Short skirts or whenever you give her fuck eyes, she loves it when people look completely vulnerable sexually. She especially get motivated whenever she teases you and you go bright red (or at least flustered, like mumbled stuttering).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

She won’t do anal, she’s never really been a fan of it (except for spanking, she loves that shit). But she will never do anal play, it actually sorta freaks her out.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

She prefers if she’s given it, especially when she gets to sit on your face and sorta just completely suffocates you. She doesn’t mind going on you, she enjoys it, but she much rather be the one receiving it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

She’s a mix of all, it depends on her mood. She typically can go fast and sensual, even though she likes to take her time. It’s an odd combination, but that’s what works for her. Can you imagine fast and rough

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Absolutely, she loves ‘before games’ quickies in the dorms or changing rooms. Or between class fucks, she will take it anytime she gets.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

She is really risky and will most definitely do it anytime and anywhere, but she prefers places she used too. She is constantly wanting to try new toys or new positions. Her middle name is experiment, of course she would only do things that aren’t crossing your boundaries.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It depends, she can get bored of the same stuff so it depends if you guys have time to explore new things. She can go a good few, like 4, since she is athletic and has good stamina, but she definitely needs a break in between.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She owns many variations from dildos to vibrators. She uses them quite a lot, since it’s easier. She’ll use them on herself and you, but of course she will wash them and properly take care of them. She’s quite skillful with and without them, so whether you both use them or not, you’re definitely having the time of your life.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s always a tease, whether it's leading her hand up your thigh in class, wearing short skirts or no bra, whispering dirty things, it happens on a daily basis. She gives you yearning looks during class, smirking. It’s 50% sex and 50% taunts and teases.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She’s not that loud, she swears more often than actually groaning. She sometimes does those small whimpers if you’re leading (which only happens in a blue moon), but she isn’t actually quiet; she talks to you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

She would definitely want Lily or Mary to join, or she would love to go to one of this girls sleepover party’s and it ends up being a sex-a-thon orgy. She isn’t into men, so if ahy threesome’s where to go down it would be with girls.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

She has perky breasts, they're small but she likes them and her confidence makes you like them as well. Her strap is around 7 inches, but it’s more girthy.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, she can go any time and where. She’s always thinking about sex but she is never actually horny most times, when she is horny she can go for hours on end.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

She actually has a very high stamina due to quidditch, so she has built up a tolerance to stay awake after a ‘workout’. There for, she can stay up for hours after sex and will probably spend her time taking care of you.

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