#not to bear my soul on main but i was having a Day & whipped this up on a whim but it just made me think of luther & 🥺

[thecreaturecodex]

General Abdalla Aulorian

“Fay“ © Ivana Abbate, accessed at her gallery here

[Unlike the other characters I’ve been posting for Monster Girl Summer, this one is Mine. Abdalla Aulorian is my character in a long form, freeform Pathfinder game run by @strawberry-crocodile​. Her main NPC, who I have an enemies-to-lovers relationship with, will be posted in a couple of days. This is Abdalla immediately before the campaign started.]

Abdalla Aulorian CR 7 LE Outsider (native) This woman has pale mauve skin, shoulder length black hair with red streaks, and ridged horns growing from her brow. Her left leg is differently shaped from her right, with an elongated ankle and a horse-like hoof.

Life is cruel to Abdalla Aulorian, and she has learned how to be cruel in return. Born as the sixth child in a particularly ambitious branch of the Aulorian family, her mother made a deal with the contract devil Jebelat to have her turned into a tiefling. She was treated as a whipping boy and basically a servant by her parents and most of her siblings, and she lashed out violently. To teach her some discipline and make her useful, she was shipped off to the Sisters of Eiseth. On the plus side, the Sisters did accept her as a trans woman, and helped her transition. On the other hand, they did so with humiliating rituals and beat what little independence she had out of her thoroughly. At the end of her training, Abdalla signed her soul over to Eiseth and bears her unholy symbol as a brand on her breast. If my soul was to be owned by hell, she rationalized, I might as well choose who my master will be.

From the nunnery, Abdalla went into the Chelish military as an officer. Although a few of her fellow cadets thought that as a tiefling she should be kept to non-commissioned status, those that complained too loudly had a nasty habit of turning up dead. Her assistance in crushing a halfling slave revolt near Laekastel won her a title, Demibaroness, and she was successful enough in the war against the Glorious Reclamation to claw her way up to the rank of general. She has some regrets, and plenty of nightmares, but is proud of her ability to survive in as hostile a system as she has. She hasn’t spoken to her parents in years—they fled their manor in Corentyn to a summer estate in Vyre, just in time for Ravounel to declare independence. Whether her family are keeping their heads down, fought back against the Silver Ravens and were captured or killed, or just used this opportunity to cut Abdalla out of her life… she doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care. Now that she is a general, Abdalla regularly volunteers to lead troops into enemy territory, hoping either to win a plot of land to retire to or to be put out of her misery in combat.

General Abdalla Aulorian has survived as long as she has by being able to control her own emotions. She lies habitually, presenting herself as a loyal workhorse for the military and dutiful supplicant to Eiseth. In truth, she deeply resents Eiseth, Cheliax, her family, and herself for her very existence. Abdalla’s rage and self-loathing has been channeled into infernal power. She uses her few spells to augment her own physical abilities and for a modicum of protection. Abdalla never had much patience for ranged weapons, and relies on her soldiers to provide artillery support. Although she is fleet of foot, Abdalla’s gait is awkward due to her mismatched legs, and she finds both running and riding to be difficult. 

Abdalla Aulorian          CR 7 XP 3,200 LE Medium outsider (native) Tiefling bloodrager 8 Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +11, scent Defense AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (+7 armor) hp 64 (8d10+16) Fort +7, Ref +2, Will +3; +4 vs. enchantment, fear, poison DR 1/-; Resist cold 5, electricity 5, fire 10 Defensive Abilities blood sanctuary, diabolical arrogance, improved uncanny dodge, infernal resistance Offense Speed 30 ft. (40 ft. unarmored) Melee +1 halberd +12/+7 (1d10+5/x3) Ranged javelin +7 (1d6+3) Special Attacks bloodrage (19 rounds/day, +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 Will, -2 AC) Spells CL 5th, concentration +7 2nd (2/day)—bear’s strength, bull’s endurance, mirror image 1st (2/day)—expeditious retreat, magic missile, phantom blood, protection from good, shield Statistics Str 16, Dex 10, Con 13, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 12 Base Atk +8; CMB +11; CMD 21 Feats Blind-fight (B), Eschew Materials (B), Improved Initiative, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Bluff), Skilled Rager (Bluff) Skills Bluff +13, Climb +5, Handle Animal +6, Intimidate +6, Knowledge (arcana) +6, Perception +11, Perform (dance) +2, Spellcraft +6, Stealth +15, Survival +12; Racial Modifiers +2 Bluff, +2 Stealth Languages Common, Halfling, Infernal SQ blood casting, bloodline (infernal), fast movement, fiendish sorcery, variant tiefling Gear +1 halberd, +1 breastplate, cloak of elvenkind, silversheen (x2), feather token bird (x2), potion of cure moderate wounds, scroll of spider climb, 3 javelins, dress uniform worth 30 gp, jasper earrings worth 50 gp, 40 sp Special Abilities Variant Tiefling Abdalla has the scent special ability instead of darkness as a spell-like ability.

[an-angels-fury]

My Gerik Headcanons

Hey, guys!

Damn, this was already rotting here in my drafts. I planned to make this post months ago (only a few days after I created this page), but I always got lazy or too insecure to finish it. But now, IT'S FINALLY HERE 😄

As you probably read in title, these HC's are all about Gerik (Gerard Butler's Erik/The Phantom from the 2004 movie), so... well, don't get surprised if you expected something else. Also, these are all my opinions, so don't be an asshole if you disagree with them or just because you don't like Gerik or this specific adaptation 😒

Enjoy it 👍

Gerik doesn't have clear memories of his father. The only things that come to his mind in the few times he thinks of him is a big fist gripping painfully his tiny arm as a little child and a man lying dead in his bed.

Since he was born, Gerik's mother never let him walk around the house. Actually, he spent most of the time in his first years of life all alone, locked in a dark, cold and dirty baseament. The only times his mother would visit him was to give him some food or to hurt and punish him for simply being born.

Erik is not his birth name, but the one he gave himself after he came to the Opera House. His parents hated him and never saw him as their son, nor even a human being, so they never cared about giving him a name.

When he was only 7, his mother sold him to the circus. She took him out of the house for the first time, telling him they would take a trip to a very special place. Later, he would find out she planned this just to finally get rid of him.

When Gerik's keeper saw him for the first time, he didn't think his deformity was scary enough so, through the years, he would always find a opportunity to use his whip on him, giving the boy a more hideous appearence. He still bears most of the scars in his body, especially on his back.

Gerik got most of his magic knowledge in his time in the circus. One night, a magician who perfomed there notice the curiousity in the boy's eyes and decided to teach him some tricks, which he learned to execute very quickly. When the circus owners found out, they were very impressed and decided to take advantage of his abilities letting him participate of some numbers. This is one of the fondest memories of his childhood.

Sadly, most of his famous perfomances were as one of the main attractions in the freak show, being adressed as "The Devil's Child". Because of that, he spent most of his time locked inside a small cage.

In middle of the night, when the pain of loneliness seemed to devour his soul, Gerik would sing any sweet melody he created in his head while admiring the stars and losing himself in their light. There were times his tired eyes would catch some of his colleagues, other rare oddities, paying attention to him and his angelic voice. This is a habit he would mantain even after he started to live in the Opera House. Every night, he would go up to the building's roof and look at the starry night sky.

His only friend in that horrible place was the little acrobat monkey who lived in the camp. At least once a day, he would visit Gerik's cage and make company to him, play with him and make funny tricks to make him laugh.

It was the little animal who inspired child Gerik to build his monkey puppet who plays little plates (and also his music box years later). He still keeps the toy with him after all those years, even using him to sleep sometimes, but he'll never admit it.

He was only 12 when he finally killed his captor and ran away to the Opera with Madame Giry's help.

In his first years in the Opera House, he would spend most of his time exploring the dark tunnels and secret passages bellow the building, coming to the point of memorizing every corner in his mind, knowing the whole place better than anyone else. It would still take him some time until he could gain courage enough to finally come back to the surface and discover all the other places on the theater.

During his teenage years, he was haunted by night terrors. At night, those horrible memories of his childhood would always crawl back to his mind, so livid, making him shake, kick and cry histeracally until he finally wake up with the sound of his own screams. He still feared to be found and taken back to the circus. Happily, those dreams would become less and less constant as he grew up. But they've never truly gone.

He climbs the walls and the rooftop of the Opera, swims in the underground lake and practices fencing daily as forms of exercise. He learned in the most painful way what might happen when you're in the middle of a dangerous situation and you're too weak to defend yourself. He promised himself he would never be in this position ever again.

Red is his favorite color.

Since he can remember, darkness was always his best friend, the one who protected him from curious, scared eyes. It's his safe place, his refugee. But at night, before he lay down in his bed, the darkness which he's so familiar with, suddenly becomes something terrifying. The time he is asleep is the only one he takes the risk to be at anyone's mercy. That's why he uses so many candles to light his lair: because of his fear of waking up in the middle of the night, surrounded by darkness, and, suddenly, finding himself trapped in that baseament of his mother's house or in that cage in the freak show, vulnerable to anyone who wishes to hurt him again.

Gerik has no religion. As a child, he tried very hard to believe and find comfort in the idea of a kind, selfless and benevolent God who look out and take care of all living beings. When he still lived with his mom, he prayed every night, asking for God's help to make his mama love him back.

After his mother abandoned in the circus, feeling totally alone, hurt and helpless, he started to pray to God send him an angel, to embrace him and take him away to a place where his pain and suffering would finally be over.

When the years passed and, once again, he got no answer, Gerik came to conclusion that the existence of such powerful being was nothing but a lie, or maybe God was so disgusted and horrified about his existence that He, just like the rest of humanity, has abandoned him too ("A God like this could really be so cruel?! Am I really the Devil?!"). In the end, he prefered to believe in the first option because the second one seemed too painful to be true.

He shared a very close friendship with Madame Giry during his teenage years. However, reaching the adulthood, both got busy with their own works and duties (Gerik soon learned to not depend on his friend's care to survive and took his role as the Phantom of the Opera, while Mme. Giry became the ballet teacher of the Opera and got pregnant of her daugther Meg) and started to grew apart.

All Gerik's knowledge on romance comes from operas and plays (just like most of his knowledge in sword fighting as well), books and sweet gestures shared between lovers in their secret meetings in the Opera House.

He absolutely loves animals. There's no doubt he's the "animals are infinitely better than humans" kind of person (Christine and the Girys are his only exceptions). Every night, when there's no one else working in the stables of theater, he goes to take care of the horses, give them food and water and, in many occasions, rant about his feelings and frustrations with them. Even though he swears to himself he loves all of them equally, it's impossible for him to hide his soft spot for a certain black stallion called Cesar, whose personality is as stubborn and tameless as his own.

[pjunicornart]

Okay sooo ummmm I've been working on something in the background.

So like, I've been working on a Meet the Robinsons AU idea that I plan on making a ton of content for in the background, I even have some art for it already. However, I wanna see if people would be interested in it... so I'm gonna describe the main players of the AU and answer some questions here in this post because I've just been DYING to info dump about this! Okay, let's start with...

The explanation of everything! What even is this AU I'm working on? It'll be called "Lazy Days." Essentially, this is an AU where the Robinson family stays in their comfy clothes and bedheads all day while drinking tea and/or coffee and binging junk food while watching movies... to name a few activities. My vision for this AU is a super cozy and chill vibe. Sweaters, socks, sweatpants, sleep shorts, donuts, whipped cream cans, coffee mugs, pizza, lo-fi, and more await in this AU!

What are some key differences? Besides the comfy lounge wear? Well, for one, Neil and Franny have more kids. Wilbur is still the eldest, he just has three little siblings now! One of which is adopted! I'll tell you more about them later on in this post. As for another key difference? Neil is still a super genius and everything, however, all of his inventions have a noticeably more... cozy, aesthetic feel. All I'm saying is, Carl looks REAL different in this AU.

Will there be a story? Meh... I'm still debating that. For now, it's just kind of a thing I entertain when I want to/am prompted to. If it were to have a story, it would probably focus on Wilbur and his sibs.

What did you mean by the "main players?" Just what I what refer to as the "core" members of the family. So, Neil and Fran, plus their four kids: Wilbur, Freddie, Mazie, and Leo. Speaking of...

Cornelius 42 years old. Summary: Caffeine Junkie, Sleepyhead, Scatterbrain Owner of his own engineering company, and a pretty chill one at that. He baffles others in his field because on the surface, he seems to not be all there - his choice to show up to important meetings and talks in sweatpants doesn't exactly help with that assumption. However, nobody can deny his amazing intellect, even if it at first glance it seems buried under all the goofball-ness.

Franny 41 years old. Summary: Intense, Mama Bear, Prideful A global phenomenon for her music featuring her own frog band! She's made up her brand from the fact that she's the only musician in the world right now who makes music using little amphibians who miraculously learned how to walk and talk. Besides music, Franny also adores everything about her husband.

Wilbur 16 years old. Summary: Sheepish, Easily Bored, Bookworm When he's not sneaking snacks from the kitchen in the middle of the night, he's usually curled up in a chair reading the book he recently checked out from the local library. His parents are surprised just how much he mellowed out compared to three years ago. That being said... ADHD doesn't magically go away after you grow up a little.

Freddie 13 years old. Summary: Old Soul, Green Thumb, Foodie She was adopted into the family two years after Wilbur was born. It was a circumstance of her father not being able to take care of her at the time. She's the plant person of the family, opting to spend her days taking care of her little garden in the backyard. Which includes fresh produce!

Mazie 10 years old. Summary: Weirdo, Hypersensitive, Pouty She's absolutely OBSESSED with cryptids. Bigfoot, Night Crawlers, Aliens, Mothman... you name it, she probably knows a whole book's worth of information about it. Hell, she'll even watch cryptid adjacent stuff. For example, kaiju movies. Her ultimate dream is to see the Loch Ness Monster. Or Bigfoot. Or aliens. Or any cryptid.

Leo 3 years old. Summary: Non-Verbal, Picky, Loner Leo is the only one who takes after his father, sharing his blonde hair. Which couldn't have worked out better! You see, after Leo was born, Franny went on a massive world tour. So Neil was the one taking care of him during his early years, and so Leo got very attached to his daddy. Wherever Neil goes, Leo follows. He's very fussy and uncooperative if Neil is away at work or just out for groceries.

I'm super curious to see your thoughts on this, if any. I'm gonna make stuff for this regardless, but I still want to start some conversations! Ask box is always open! THIS POST HAS A SISTER POST NOW! This one has images! :o Here it is -> Lazy Days Character Busts.

[tacticalvalor]

«────── « HEADCANON » ──────»

TAGGED BY: @vendettavalor TAGGING: you!! if you read this, feel free to steal this and tag me in it <3

MUSE PLAYLIST || APOLLYON

► MAIN: Brutus - The Buttress

↳ My name is Brutus and my name means heavy, so with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy. My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me; Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy. I too have a destiny! This death will be art! The people will speak of this day from near and afar. This event will be history, and I'll be great too; I don't want what you had—I wanna be you.

► SILLY: When I Rule the World - Liz

↳ When I rule the world, then I'm gonna make you sweat, dog collar 'round your neck, on your knees and scrub the deck. Oh, there's a spot over there, so I'll drag you by the hair. So scrub it, rub it, whip it, dry it, 'till I tell you to stop. When I'm on the throne, it's a total freak zone; You can call me mommy and I'll throw a dog a bone.

► DETERMINATION: Run Boy Run - Woodkid

↳ Run, boy, run! This world is not made for you. Run, boy, run! They're trying to catch you. Run, boy, run! Running is a victory. Run, boy, run! Beauty lies behind the hills.

► BATTLE: Autotheist - Baby Bugs

↳ Dear God up in heaven: How do I fucking get in? You tried to make me scared of hell, but I'm living there. I'm living there. And if I was God, I'd kill the people who believe in me. And if I was God, I'd make everybody bow to me. And who says that I'm not God? I am God to me. And if I was God, I'd make you all believe in me.

► SAD: God Complex - Violent Vira

↳ I wanna be the true savior, the one with the terrible demise. I wanna be the Messiah, Pariah, the one who never dies […] Darling, won't you just plead, or should I begin to bleed? God, I could try to be the one. To be the one. I'll tear down the sky. What do you want?

► RELAXED: It's Ok, You're Ok - Bonjr

↳ // No lyrics to this one, but I think it fits Apollyon's character because of that. When she does have moments of peace, there isn't much to be said about them. As for the tone of the music itself, it's still got an energy to it. Like it could be thrown over a battle scene, if you catch the vibe. And that, again, I think fits her character. Even when relaxed, there's that drive.

► CONTEMPLATIVE: Blood Upon the Snow - Bear McCreary & Hozier

↳ To all things housed in her silence, Nature offers a violence. The bear that keeps to his own line. The wolf that seeks always his own kind. The world that hardens as the harsher wind holds. The parent forced to eat its young before it grows. Every bird, gone unheard, starving where the ground has froze.

► HAPPY: Schism - TOOL

↳ I know the pieces fit, 'cause I watched them fall away, mildewed and smoldering; Fundamental differing. Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers' souls in motion. Disintegrating as it goes, testing our communication.

► HARD WORK MONTAGE: Shut Eye - Stealing Sheep

↳ You should've got a better bed, better for your head, better heads need shut eye. You should've got out of the red, in the red you're better off dead; deader than the red dead sea, promise to me, promise me the sea.

► LOVE THEME: Cigarettes & Feelings - The Haunt

↳ You got me stumbling; You never give me a break. I know one day this thing will kill me. You're my favorite mistake […] I know you see me there. You're always playing this game. You've got me breathless, got me begging you to drive me insane. I always fall for the things that will hurt me.

► BREAKUP / HEARTBREAK: Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons

↳ Touch my mouth and hold my tongue. I'll never be your chosen one. I'll be home, safe and tucked away. You can't tempt me if I don't see the day […] I'll never wear your broken crown. I took the road, and I fucked it all away. Now, in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace?

► FAILURE / DEFEAT: Ptolemaea - Ethel Cain

↳ Suffer does the wolf, crawling to thee. Promising a big fire, any fire, saying I'm the one; he's gonna take me. I'm on fire, I'm on fire, I'm on fire. Suffering is nigh, drawing to me, calling me the one; I'm the white light, beautiful, finite. Even the iron still fears the rot, hiding from something I cannot stop. Walking on shadows, I can't lead him back.

► FINAL BATTLE: REVIVED - Derivakat

↳ Driving off the tracks, but I'm back, and I've seen Hell, but this is more my style. I'm alive, I'm revived, I survived, you surprised? Gonna cry about it? You should see the other guy. I'm returned, and I've waited my turn, a decade of time to make everything mine.

[telamonaut]

❝ i am opening the curtains    i am dancing to music    i am chewing each bite           i am trying                   to feel human

                           i am trying . ❞

[axcible]

❝𝐀-𝐙 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

𝔻𝕖𝕟𝕜𝕚 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕚

Ability➵ He is useful, he can charge your phone!

Bed and Breakfast➵ Cereal, dude can’t cook anything-has to be very simple.

Cuddles➵ The best in the world, believe it or not his electrical charge can somehow warm you up. Downside, makes your hair go up.

Dom➵ Eh, can be, most likely not-he always ends up submitting to you.

Experience➵ I would say he is a professional, knows how to calm you down, those cuddles are what keep you waking up every morning catering to your lazy little dummy.

Flexibility➵ He loves new things, if they don’t work out and it gets awkward, he knows exactly what to do. Go back and try again.

Goodies➵ Yes, he loves eating while cuddling. It’s like two amazing things in one.

Heat➵ Whisper in his ears in a way that is just captivating, play with him, tease him. “Mmmm, baby, y’know I love it when you shock right there~” He goes feral.

Introvert➵ He loves whispering gossip to you, talking about his day and asking you about yours. 

Jittery Bugs➵ He gets flustered but he is confident, he takes pride in cuddling, favorite part of the day.

Kinks➵ Say your cold, and that your feeling a bit lonely. He comes running, your little cuddle bug~

Lights➵ Lights on or of this guys just wants to snuggle up with you.

Minor➵ He calls you various pet names, but your main one is cuddle bug or baby boy.

Nsfw➵ He gets horny a lot when you two are on vacation, the way you dress has him drooling. When he gets jealous he knows what’s happening tonight.

Observations➵ Sometimes he sees that you don’t get enough sleep so he makes simple but heartfelt breakfasts for you. Your sweet cuddle bug. 

Period➵ Snack master, need something he’s on it, he can and will never track your period, he doesn’t have enough brain cells. But he is there at your every command.

Questions➵ His he a good parent? Yes he is, your probably thinking if he has matured over time, and yes he has. He aims to be the fun parent-the yes parent.

Rapid➵ You two cuddle as much as you can, after work, secret breaks. Anytime, anywhere.

Sensitive➵ He is very sensitive about his length, remind him how great he makes you feel, remind him he is the only one that can make you moan the way he likes it. 

Time➵ Like I said cuddles all you can, as much as you can spare, till your at the risk of starving each other.

Utility➵ Warm cozy stuff, if ain’t got none of that no matter, just being with you is enough for him.

Vent➵ He likes to vent while cuddling a lot, it’s like her personal therapy sessions. Their free too

Where➵ Anywhere, couch, bed, chairs, anywhere. He prefers somewhere soft, but if he can’t get that-so be it.

X-ray➵ He loves every part of you, chubby, skinny, whatever. This guy loves you till death.

Yearning➵ All of his thoughts: “I miss her *checks out the window*, is she back yet? A teddy bear can’t cuddle the way she does. Where is my other half? My soul, the whipped cream to my pancakes!”

Zebra➵ A kid, he can only handle one and you know that. Girl or boy, doesn’t matter. Only once, if yall get twins-so be it, have fun handling those troublemakers.

𝔼𝕚𝕛𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕂𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒

Ability➵ Big strong helper, your big man!

Bed and Breakfast➵ BACON AND EGGS!!!!! This dude can cook, if ya let him.

Cuddles➵ Not 1000/10 but it’s 10.5/10! Still pretty good, he is your one and only man.

Dom➵ Yes, unless you want to be, this guy listens to your every word.

Experience➵ This guy has experience! He is a gentlemen, he knows exactly what to do!

Flexibility➵ He is always up for new things, food, cuddle positions, sex positions, and even more!

Goodies➵ Mhm, he will snack with you. Feed you-anything!

Heat➵ Yes, it is possible. Rub against him too much while cuddling-you screwed yourself! GREAT JOB! 

Introvert➵ Will talk during cuddles if you want. What does he talk about? His day, how great you are, and what he wants to do in life.

Jittery Bugs➵ He is never nervous, he knows how you like it-and is ready for a pop quiz!

Kinks➵ Say you need some affection, some attention. 

Lights➵ On-secret’s out, he may or may not be scared of the dark.

Minor➵ Sometimes you use his hardened hands to chop things-I know weird, but it works!!

Nsfw➵ When he hardens inside you, it’s like pleasure plus pain multiplied by moans. It truly is a sight for sore eyes.

Observations➵ Your sore? Chores are his! Need a massage? He is right there, knows all the good spots! Horny? He’s got you honey!!

Period➵ Ever felt like you needed someone by your side the whole way? Here he is! Best guy to talk to, gets you a heating pad-snacks at your fingertips!!!!

Questions➵ Is he perfect? Do I even need to answer?! This guy-great in bed, knows when to cheer you up, or when you need to sit down. A gentle man and a rough man, if you get what I mean.

Rapid➵ Whenever you want sweetie. He’ll make time! Cuddle sessions at your fingertips, never ever skipped a day without it!

Sensitive➵ He gets all sensitive when you compliment his work too much-this guy is a gentleman-a people pleaser. He doesn’t like getting too acknowledged, but just enough to remind him he isn’t just a servant!

Time➵ As long as you want!

Utility➵ Nothing special, just super soft pillows and heavy weighted blankets!!

Vent➵ He doesn’t really have a lot to vent about, he likes what he does. But some things just piss.him.off! I don’t know what but, it has to be bad to piss this guy off!

Where➵ Anywhere, isn’t ashamed in public. Actually he tries to get you out more, everyone keeps mistaking him as a single pringle. He is clearly taken look at his ring!

X-ray➵ Loves every part of you, his favorite? The crook of your neck. Believe it or not the crook of your neck is the warmest place for him. For a bonus, close to your ears so he can whisper about how great it is!

Yearning➵ Mhm, he misses you. “Where is she? I wonder how long she will take? Maybe I could fix dinner for when she comes back! What should I do for her?”

Zebra➵ I can see you with a whole litter, at least 3 kids max! Best case senario, twins and one on the way!!

[songbirdsingingthings]

Pocket Watch - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: I forgot to mention this! You are Erwin’s sister in this, but that doesn’t have to mean you are his biological sister! Feel free to interpret this fic in any way that you would like <3

WARNINGS: Angst, swearing, S3 spoilers, ends in fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It was dark outside, and it was pouring rain too. Even through the thick layer of glass that served as a window, you could hear the wind whipping with the storm and smattering the raindrops against the buildings. On the inside, where you were currently, was quite the contrast though. There was not a sound to be heard inside your quarters. The fire that once crackled in the brick laid fireplace had long since burned out and you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch - your eyes still trained on the charred wood that once harbored a flame. You hadn’t bothered to check the little pocket watch that had been shoved into your pocket earlier that day - you were quite sure that it would tell you it was far past your bedtime, but you just couldn’t bear to see the familiar golden thing.

First it was your father’s, but then he was killed, so it was passed onto your older brother. Erwin. He held it and kept it close to him with pride every day since then, making note to polish it on a regular basis so that its glint always shone strongly. Now it was covered in his blood. It was probably dry now, possibly even caked to the little clasp so that it couldn’t open properly anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it off. You refused to even touch it. That moment when you saw the new cadet, you think his name was Floch, bring him upon that disheveled roof caused you to go silent. Your movements ceased as you watched your brother take labored breaths… dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the young members of the 104th division, Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager, take a sharp inhale as they held their own dying friend. It was clear to anyone, that when the man holding the syringe that would grant life paused, an internal battle started to wage war in his mind. You don’t remember much - it was as if you were in a comatose state. All you know was that Erwin, your now dying big brother, reached into his breast pocket with what strength he had left, and shoved his little watch into your own. After that… a blur.

A quiet knock sounded on that measly wooden door that separated your office and adjoining bedroom from the rest of the building. You remain quiet. If they truly needed something, and were composed enough to talk to the girl who’s older brother just died, then they would come in without asking questions anyways. And that they did. The door creaked a bit and more light filtered into your office space through the opening, but went away just as quickly as it was closed. Footsteps made their way over to you and the person’s shadow was soon cast over you.

“Have you moved at all?” The voice was smooth and sullen. They knew the answer to the question as soon as they asked, you figured, but nonetheless it was spoken. As much as you thought you could answer, no words were able to be formed, much less a simple squeak. You simply opted to shake your head. With a sigh, they sat down next to you.“Have you eaten?” Another shake of the head. “Bathed?” You began to feel that your head would be moving like this forever if they kept asking you these questions. There was a beat of silence that passed through the two of you before they cupped your chin with their hand, rather roughly you might add, and wrenched your head so that it was looking at theirs. As soon as your Y/E/C eyes met his silver irises, you felt your body begin to thaw a little. Levi.

“My pocket,” you murmur, earning a confused expression from him.

“What about your pocket,” he says simply, his voice as gruff as ever. You come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bend to your wants, so you shakily reach your hand and grab Erwin’s pocket watch and drop it into Levi’s hands. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t recoil as the blood-caked watch meets his skin. Instead, he looks at it and then back up to you.

“Please take it.” Levi is quick to refuse.

“No. It’s yours, he gave it to you.”

“He would hate for it to be dirty, and we both know that you have a knack for cleanliness,” you quip, no humor present in your eyes. Levi huffs and takes out a little handkerchief and begins to gently rub away the dried blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. You stay still but your eyes go back to the charred log of wood.

“Levi,” you start but he is quick to interrupt.

“Y/N, I’m the one who killed him and now you’re giving me his prized possession. That makes me feel like an asshole.” He says, scowling to himself. As blunt as his words were, you knew he was hurting. Hurting like he was when his old friends were killed.

“You’re an asshole but not for what happened.” You say. “I… I don’t remember what he said.” You feel your eyes begin to well with tears. Why couldn’t you have cracked in private? Why did he have to be here?

“You mean before he…” Levi started, earning a nod from you. He didn’t know what Erwin had said either, letting silence grace the room.

“What happens when I forget?” You confess shakily, finally letting your eyes meet his again. Levi stops his movements and lets the pocket watch rest on the handkerchief, carefully placing it on the low coffee table in front of the two of you. “What happens when I forget what his face looked like, or what his voice used to sound like.” The tears finally broke from their prison and began to rush down your cheeks. Wordlessly, Levi brought you into his arms. Your cries became vocal now as you let everything out. No longer were you just the shell of yourself - no, you were now revealing it all to Levi. Your head fell onto his strong shoulder as your hands grasped onto his shirt, sobbing.

He could hear his heart break. Of course he was absolutely devastated at seeing Erwin, one of his closest confidants and last remaining friends meet his end, but to see you like this was a strike to his soul. You were like sunshine on a rainy day, as cliche as that might sound - always there to brighten his spirits on gruelling days when he was annoyed with everyone else. Now it seemed like you were one of those gray clouds up in the sky, void of the cheer you used to possess. He held you tighter and laid his chin on the top of your head. Levi felt his shoulder begin to grow damp but he didn’t care. Nor did he mind the fact that your dirt and mud stained hands were grabbing onto his pristine and newly laundered white shirt, surely making it dirty once more. Your cries began to die down a bit, now just shaky whimpers escaping your mouth. He presses a soft kiss onto your hair and moves his hands so that they’re cradling you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, ‘kay?” He mumbles. He feels your nods against his chest and stands, walking you over to your bedroom. You’re just sniffling now as he sets you down on your bed and starts to rummage through your clothing drawer, throwing you a new set of sleepwear along with a pair of clean panties. Much to your better judgement and current state of grief, you bark out a laugh. Levi turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed, thinking you’ve gone mad now. You raise your hands up in defense and shake your head, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he would be fucking furious if he knew you were touching my panties.” You couldn’t help it now, you were snickering as you grabbed the fresh set of clothes. He gives you a deadpanned look, sighs, and walks out of your room.

“Just change, you brat.” He says, clearly tired. You slowly peel your uniform off of your body and let it pool on the floor. Stepping into the clean clothes slowly, you exhale and slump onto the bed and close your eyes.

“Okay,” you call softly. You see Levi step back in and make his way over to the side of your bed. He looks down at you, an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes.

“When the nightmares start, just knock. Doesn’t matter what time.” He says simply.

“How do you know they’ll start?” You inquire.

“They always do.” He murmurs, closing his eyes for a second. An unspoken agreement becomes solidified between the two of you as you hold his gaze. He gives you a nod before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And what about this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you. Levi’s face remains neutral as he steps away.

“A conversation for another day.” You see his figure walk out of your room and into the office space.

“You keep that safe,” you say, regarding the pocket watch, “and clean.”

“Go to sleep, brat.” Levi calls back.

Just like Levi had predicted the nightmares did come, and didn’t stop for weeks on end. Both you and him had them about Erwin, and both you and him knocked on each other's doors when they came. But, whenever it happened, Levi pulled out the pocket watch so that you and him could listen to the faint ticking, letting you know that he would be with you, always. Although, he might not be as fond to know that you were all wrapped up in the captain’s arms.

[sukipershipper]

Her Suffering is Ensured

Alcina almost never left the castle, only ever if Miranda needed her, but that was the only time she didn’t want to be consumed by the cold. So it wasn’t very often she got to interact with the other lords, unless they came to the castle, which was almost never. Heisenberg never came around unless it was to drop off food, other than that he couldn’t stand the place, understandably so. Donna was never a frequent visitor, she felt very out of place in that castle. Then there was Moreau.

Moreau came around the most, often to drop off vials of medicine that he could whip up (he might be deformed but he’s still proficient in his work), sometimes he hung around for a it of a chat and some food, Alcina often ranted to him about what was going on with her and Heisenberg. Moreau? Well he never liked to complain but he’d ask if he was worth anything to the others, to which Alcina merely stayed quiet and would light one of her long cigarettes. That was all the answer Moreau would ever need.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, Moreau was often the nicest to her daughters, spoiling them with gifts and whatever treasures he could find. It was more or less worry or disappointment, worry that he would get himself hurt, and disappointment at the fact Miranda ruined him like that. He had potential but it wasted to try and satisfy herself, and the worst part was that Moreau let her get away with it. Moreau let her take advantage of him, it was sad to say the least.

But such was life and neither could change it now.

The cold air outside blew onto her suddenly, she tucked her arms into her sides to prevent the cold getting her more, she looked to see Moreau standing outside, the poor soul shivering like there was no tomorrow, and his drenched coat (presumably drenched from the reservoir) wouldn’t be keeping him very warm now.

“Stop standing outside you fool, get in!” Alcina demanded, without another thought, the younger lord quickly obeyed, dashing inside as quick as his legs would allow him to go. Moreau let the warmth of the castle embrace him, despite its size and haunting nature, Alcina’s home was quite warm and inviting.

Alcina quickly slammed the door shut and turned to the younger lord, “How bad is it?” Alcina asked, Moreau sighed and slowly took his coat off himself, revealing his back cover with pus filled boils and tumours, eyes poking out of every crevice and a small green acid dripping off the sides. A small droplet fell off and onto Moreau’s skin, causing him to wince in pain.

The Lady could only grimace and hold back tears at the sight she saw, Moreau was getting worse by the hour, but he refused to dwell on it any longer. Tossing his coat aside, he stood still for a bit, staring at the ground in front of him, “How have the girls been?” He asked.

Alcina nodded, “They’ve been good, better now that their favourite uncle has arrived” she smiled, Moreau gave a chuckle as he heard the chittering of bugs flying around, suddenly forming into three slightly older than teenage girls. “Uncle Sal!” They cried, the three dashing towards Moreau in a haste, only for Alcina to raise her hand to slow them down. “Girls be gentle”, Alcina warned, “I’m afraid your uncle isn’t all too well”, “What’s wrong with him?” Cassandra, one of the older daughters, asked (if I got this wrong please tell me).

Moreau only shrugged and laughed, “Oh, it’s nothing” he said, only to wince in pain and hold onto his sides, scaring the girls slightly. The man then looked up and gave a slight laugh, “Don’t worry about me”, he said, “I’ve got gifts for you three.”

With that, he pulled out a little burlap sack from his pocket and opened it to reveal three necklaces of different coloured shells and pearls. Blue for Bela, Purple for Daniela and Yellow for Cassandra.

The three girls all smiled in delight as they gently placed the necklaces around their necks, all marvelling at its beauty. “I hope you like them” Moreau said, “They’re a little hastily made”, “Oh, Uncle they’re perfect!” Bela said, Daniela nodded happily, “Absolutely wonderful!”

The three girls all gently wrapped their arms around their uncle, “Now what do you say, girls?” Alcina asked, “Thank you!” The three girls replied in unison. Both lords chuckled, Alcina smiling and shaking her head “Alright, now off to the kitchens please, make something up for your uncle”, “Oh don’t fuss over me, I won’t eat much” Moreau chimed in, only for Dimitrescu to shoot him a look, “Salvatore Antonio Moreau, I insist you have something to eat, have your fill dear brother” she said. Moreau had to laugh a little, using his own words from their story against him.

The girls soon disappeared as quickly as they appeared, leaving only the two lords still in the main hall. “Come, Salvatore” Alcina said, taking long strides towards the sitting room of the castle, “Sit down and talk to me”, “Of course, Alcina” Moreau said, trying his best to sit down in one of Alcina’s chairs, though it was a struggle due to his back.

Alcina soon brought a backless seat, “Here, take this one” she offered. Moreau graciously accepted, sitting down as best he could, though he still felt a pain surge throughout his body. As he tried to redirect the source of his pain, he found himself unable to hold it in anymore.

“Bucket” he mumbled, Alcina was confused, “I’m sorry?”, “BUCKET!” he cried.The Lady soon realized what he meant as The younger lord held his sides and began to curl his body over in pain. Alcina grabbed the nearest bucket she could find, which happened to not be a bucket at all and more an old jewellery box that she never used.

Moreau snatched it and spewed, the acid burning his mouth slightly. Once he finished he tucked the box Away under his coat, “I'll...get rid of that when I go” he said, “I’ve never had that much though”, “That’s not normal?” Alcina asked, trying her best not to look at the bubbly acid in her now ruined jewellery box.

“No, it usually happens in spurts, just little spits…” Moreau said, holding his sides again as he felt like he was about to collapse at any moment. Alcina sighed, “It’s getting worse,Mother Miranda had one job and she fucked it up!” she yelled, “You don’t deserve to live like this”, “Don’t say that…” Moreau said, groggily, trying to regain his balance, “...besides...I won’t need to live any longer…”

The Tall Mistress stared at her brother in shock, what the heck was that meant to mean? It took her a while but soon she put the pieces together…and she wasn’t fond of the results. “No…” she whispered, before standing up, “No! No! NO! You can’t be!”, “Alcina...I’m dying” Moreau answered, his head down the entire time.

“My Cadou is getting worse by the second and my mutated self keeps coming out against my will...I don’t have control of it” Moreau said, “I’m feeling myself get weaker every day...I-I don’t want to go, Alcie” The younger lord then let a small stream of tears flow down his cheeks as he tried to hide his face.

Alcina shook her head and screamed, “I CAN’T ALLOW THIS! THERE HAS GOT TO BE ANOTHER WAY!”, “Alcie! I was gifted with FOUR Cadou! There is no way to save me!” Moreau cried. Alcina couldn’t bear the idea of losing who she considered a wonderful brother, especially not to something that was meant to bring about joy for him. Something that was meant to help him, ended up being his demise...she couldn’t stand the thought.

The mistress went to kneel down to meet her brother for a hug, but instead she saw Moreau do something she hadn’t seen him do in a long time. The younger lord took a deep breath and straightened up his back. It was painful, as to be expected when you have a massive parasitic growth on your back, but he managed. Soon Alcina found herself being lunged at, her younger sibling wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

The Lady smiled and allowed tears to fall down her face as she hugged back. “I promise you, Moreau” she spoke softly, holding the younger lords head close to her, “I will make sure Mother Miranda pays for what she did to you, even if it’s not me who does it, I will ensure you that she suffers the consequences.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

i keep thinking about all the yiling patriarch!jiang cheng aus out there and it got me curious: what wild canon divergences would have to happen for it to be jiang yanli who becomes the yiling matriarch? (she doesn’t use a flute, she just asks politely probably) and what would be the eventual fallout of that?

It was Wei Wuxian’s idea, of course.

Jiang Yanli’s big didi was brilliant and talented beyond measure, as reckless and impertinent in his thoughts as he was in every other way, just as her little didi was earnest and soft-hearted and dutiful, the outlines of the serious man he’d become when he grew up just barely visible underneath the baby fat that still lingered in his cheeks.

It was Wei Wuxian’s idea, but it was Jiang Cheng that made Jiang Yanli decide to use it.

Both of her brothers got invitations to sit in on important sect meetings, as senior disciple and presumptive heir; Wei Wuxian apparently made good contributions during the meetings and forgot about them immediately afterwards, while Jiang Cheng listened intently and then worried for days.

“The Wen sect is becoming more and more of a threat,” Jiang Cheng told her late at night when she was making him something to settle his upset stomach – he was like a little bird, with anxiety enough to put him off his seed. “Mother and Father are fighting over how much they need to react, since technically they haven’t come into Yunmeng…”

“Technically?”

“We never signed agreements with those clans, but we’ve been all but responsible for them anyway.” He put his head down on the table, sighing. “What happens if they come here?”

“A-Xian says they won’t dare.”

“He’s just repeating what Father says. I don’t know. Maybe they don’t dare now, but – what if they do, one day?”

Jiang Yanli took after her father in most aspects, but she was still her mother’s daughter: while she comforted Jiang Cheng and told him not to worry, filled him up with warm soup and hugged him until he smiled again, the thought lingered. What if, indeed. Her brothers would need to fight, of course. Her two babies raising up swords against human beings instead of evil creatures; her mother would use Zidian, of course, and her father had his sword, and she –

Jiang Yanli was not un-self-aware. She was an indifferent cultivator, with below-average skills at the sword – good enough to pass basic muster, but not much more than that. Her talismans were about the same, decent but not inspiring, and she could only produce an average number before she exhausted her spiritual energy. She had a golden core, but it was weak, just like she was weak.

She wouldn’t be able to defend her home. To defend her brothers.

And there was nothing she could do about it –

That was when she remembered Wei Wuxian’s silly little idea, the one that had gotten him in so much trouble at the Cloud Recesses, that he’d told her all about in great detail when he’d returned home: to use resentful energy the way they used spiritual energy.

(“– and then poor Nie Huaisang said it would be helpful to someone like him, who formed his core later; he doesn’t have much spiritual energy, so he gets tired easily, but if it’s not his energy he’s using, he wouldn’t be held back by the limits of his own cultivation –”)

Jiang Yanli pursed her lips in thought.

Wei Wuxian had only sketched out the basic idea, without going forward to think of ways to implement the idea – after all, it was all well and good to say you could find a way to channel tremendous external energy into something usable, but another thing entirely to actually do it. It would be as tricky as catching lightning from the sky and using it as a whip.

In other words, it was time to ask her mother for help.

To say that Yu Ziyuan disapproved would be an understatement, but Jiang Yanli knew her mother well: she waited until the initial rant was completed and then pointed out, quietly, that she didn’t have any other means with which to defend herself – and that would leave her at the non-existent mercy of the Wen sect.

Her mother froze. “…I could give you Zidian,” she finally said, but from the expression on her face, even she knew that that wouldn’t work: Zidian required both a strong golden core and a certain knack, a talent that Jiang Cheng had and Jiang Yanli lacked; there had never been any question between the two of them as to who would inherit Zidian. “Or we could buy more talismans –”

“And when the talismans we buy run out? I can’t replenish them myself. But if we try my way, I won’t have to rely on A-Xian or A-Cheng – a-niang, just think about how I’d feel if they got hurt trying to save me! And all because I don’t have a knack for cultivating!”

Her mother sighed. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll help you figure out how it could work in practice, rather than in theory. But it’s only for emergencies, you understand? What you’re suggesting comes very close to demonic cultivation – if you use human-generated resentful energy, it is demonic cultivation – and using that too much damages the body, affects the temperament.”

“Just for emergencies,” Jiang Yanli promised.

“And don’t tell A-Cheng or Wei Wuxian about it,” her mother insisted. “Can you imagine the trouble those two would get into with something like this?”

Jiang Yanli covered her mouth to try to keep from giggling. “A-Xian would probably restyle himself to match the aesthetic – wearing Demon Cultivating Robes, under Demon Cultivating Hair, that he left in a pile on the Demon Cultivating Bed –”

“From which he rested on the Pillow of Evil, no doubt,” her mother agreed, looking amused despite herself. “And your brother would end up trying to keep a small legion of fierce corpses as pets because he felt too bad about sending them back into the earth after having used them.”

“He’d give them names,” Jiang Yanli said, giggling harder. “Princess, or Buttercup –”

“And he’d hide them very badly in a closet or something, too. Do you remember the nest of juvenile fisher hawks that he hid in the armory? They nearly fell on my head –”

“Of course I remember. You nearly stepped on poor little Cloudpuff.”

“Don’t remind me!”

They had two years to work on it, their own little mother-daughter bonding time – the boys ran away in mock fright at the mere suggestion of girly stuff – and Jiang Yanli felt that she and her mother had never been closer. They could even, for the first time, go on night-hunts together, Jiang Yanli summoning corpses with a crook of her finger and a gentle hum while her mother cut them down with her sword or with Zidian.

It was so much fun that Jiang Yanli almost forgot why they’d started it in the first place.

And then, very suddenly, it all became real.

Jiang Yanli was at Meishan, visiting her grandmother, when the Wen sect attacked, but word spread quickly – the Lotus Pier ravaged, the sect leader and his wife both dead, their children missing…

“We have to hide you at once,” her grandmother said after they’d passed through the first flush of grief, her face still wet with tears. “They’ll be coming here next –”

“You will tell them that I am not here,” Jiang Yanli said, and stood up, wiping her own eyes. “Because I won’t be. I’m going back to the Lotus Pier.”

“A-Li! If you do that, they’ll catch you – have you heard what the Wen sect does to female cultivators –”

“Mother and Father are dead at their hands,” Jiang Yanli said. “They must be avenged.”

“Your brother will do that! That boy, Wei Wuxian, he will –”

“I will not let them bear that burden alone,” Jiang Yanli said. “Keep everyone here safe for me, okay?”

She made it back just in time to see Jiang Cheng, her little A-Cheng, the baby she held in her tiny arms less than a shichen after he’d been born, the one she clothed and fed and cared for all these years, being dragged into the main hall by Wen sect cultivators, his face pale with fear.

Wen Chao was sitting in her father’s chair, playing with the sect’s discipline whip. “I’ve always wondered if this thing was as bad as they say. Let’s try it out on him,” he ordered, grinning lazily. “And then Wen Zhuliu can melt his golden core, and we can try it again – to see if there’s any difference in using it on a cultivator and on a regular person.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t plead for mercy, not even as they forced him down to kneel, even as his shoulders shook under their hands – Jiang Yanli turned her face away, nodded at the young Wen cultivator that had snuck her in this far (Wen Ning, she thought his name was), and raised her hands to do what she had to do.

The Wen sect had been lazy in the immediate aftermath of their victory: they hadn’t bothered to either bury or burn the corpses of her Jiang sect cultivators, her shidi and shimei, her martial aunts and uncles; they’d only tossed them outside into a giant pit to be dealt with later.

They were going to regret that.

“Jiejie!” Jiang Cheng cried out when he saw her rushing over to his side: he was bleeding, and badly, from the marks of the whip, but Wen Zhuliu hadn’t had a chance to destroy his core yet, having been distracted by the sight of the Violet Spider risen up from the dead in defiance of all soul-calming rituals.

(Jiang Yanli knew her mother well enough to know that she would forgive the use of her corpse if it resulted in her ripping out Wen Zhuliu’s core with her bare hands, using the elongated nails of a fierce corpse, a fearsome red-clad ghost dressed in purple. They would put her to rest later in the same coffin as her husband.)

“It’s okay, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli said, petting his hair. “It’s okay – jiejie’s here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Wen Ning ended up being the little brother of Wen Qing, who he somehow managed to summon – the famous doctor lived up to her reputation and didn’t so much as blink at being escorted into the main room by fierce corpses in order to care for Jiang Cheng’s wounds. Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that she’d seen her deliberately stepping on Wen Chao’s corpse on her way in, too, so she wasn’t worried.

“No one can know that I was involved,” Wen Qing said, finishing up stitching together Jiang Cheng’s chest and resetting his collarbone. He was out cold, and there were medicines that would work as painkillers for when he woke up. “I have to keep my family safe, too.”

“You were never here, this never happened,” Jiang Yanli agreed. “If you ever decide that the Wen sect is a losing proposition, come to me and I’ll remember this favor.”

Wen Qing eyed some of the fierce corpses standing as guards. “I’ll remember that.”

There was some yelling outside, a familiar voice. Jiang Yanli tilted her head to the side and smiled. “That’ll be A-Xian. He can help sneak you out of our borders without anyone the wiser – no one knows the ins and out of the Lotus Pier better than he does.”

She went out and found Wen Ning trying to talk down a wild-eyed Wei Wuxian, who apparently was on familiar terms with him. Not really a surprise: Wei Wuxian was friendly with everybody.

“A-Xian!” she called.

“Shijie?! What are you doing here? Are you okay – are you safe – did you see Jiang Cheng –”

“It’s okay,” she said. “All the bad Wens are dead; Wen Ning and his sister – and their subordinates – are helping us. A-Cheng is injured, but he’ll heal.”

Wei Wuxian sat down abruptly, all the tension in his body replaced by a mixture of relief and the remnants of his despair. “I only went away for a moment to get some food,” he said, and put his head in his hands. “I only looked away for a moment…”

Jiang Yanli sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him. “You did your best, A-Xian. That’s all that can be asked of you.”

“But – Madame Yu said –”

Jiang Yanli could guess what her mother had probably said.

“Of course you need to take care of A-Cheng,” she said, and let him bury his head in her shoulder. “He’s your didi, isn’t he? Just like he’s mine, and you’re mine, too; it’s our responsibility as older siblings to take care of the younger ones. He’s going to need our help a lot more now that he has to be sect leader.”

Wei Wuxian sniffled. “I told him I’d support him when he became sect leader – that we’d be the twin heroes of Yunmeng, just like the twin jades of the Lan sect. I just didn’t think…not so soon! And now there’s barely any Jiang sect left!”

“My little heroes,” Jiang Yanli said, and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be okay. The Wen sect may have attacked the Lotus Pier, but there are plenty of Jiang sect cultivators who weren’t here – we have them, and we can recruit more.”

He nodded, then paused. “Uh, shijie – a question.”

“Yes?”

“The fierce corpses everywhere…”

“We’ll need to lay them to rest after we’re done,” Jiang Yanli said firmly. Her mother had insisted on that: demonic cultivation encouraged bad tendencies, sloppiness, and the only way to deal with that degradation of spirit was with discipline and righteousness. If possible, she should prefer non-human spirits; human corpses could be used, but only to the degree necessary, and then they had to be laid to rest with honor, as they deserved – furthermore, if at all possible, they should only be summoned from those that would have willingly given up their bodies to help the endeavor in question, rather than using tormenting their spirits by using them against their friends and family.

Somehow, Jiang Yanli didn’t think there would be a problem finding victims of the Wen sect to help.

“But how did you do it?” Wei Wuxian wanted to know. “They listen to you –”

“I’m manipulating their resentful energy,” she explained. “Based on the idea you initially had at the Cloud Recesses – what? Don’t look at me like that, didi; I did tell you I thought it was a good idea.”

“But demonic cultivation is bad for you! It affects the temperament, the body, the heart…”

“Mother used to say that my temperament could probably stand to be a bit worse,” Jiang Yanli said, feeling her eyes go hot as tears threatened. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “Don’t worry, didi. We came up with a bunch of rules to try to make it easier and less harmful to use…I’m not a sword cultivator like you and A-Cheng; it’s not my strength. But I can do this, and I won’t be helpless against the Wen sect.”

Wei Wuxian hugged her, clearly terrified by the thought. “Never mind what I said. It’s a good idea.”

Jiang Yanli smiled. “I know. You’ll help me come up with more ways to use it, right? You and A-Cheng – you always did come up with the craziest things when you were together, even more than you alone.”

“Of course!” There was the Wei Wuxian she knew and loved: forgetting pain – or at least, putting it aside – as soon as he had something concrete to work on. “How do you do it? Music? I’d been thinking of using musical manipulation –”

“Sometimes I hum? Mostly it’s just willpower – sometimes gestures, like saluting. It works better if the resentful spirits feel appreciated.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at her. “Appreciated?”

“Everyone likes to feel appreciated, A-Xian.”

“I suppose so,” he said, then shook his head. “Whatever you say is right, shijie.”

“Of course she’s right,” Jiang Cheng croaked from inside the room – he’d stumbled over to the door, and both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli immediately rushed over to help him back to his bed. “Jiejie’s always right…jiejie, what do we do next?”

“Don’t look at me!” she objected. “You’re sect leader; you decide. I’m just here to support you.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “We have to fight back against the Wen sect,” he said. His voice was raspy with pain and the remnants of screaming: Wei Wuxian lifted a cup of tea to his lips at once. “The way the Nie sect is…the Lan sect, too; I think Father mentioned that Lan Wangji was doing a lot of travelling. Wei Wuxian, you got close to him when you were at the Xuanwu cave. Can you go find him? Tell him we need his help, and the help of any other sects he can help us recruit.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “You sure you don’t need me here..?”

“There won’t be a ‘here’ if we don’t get people together, and fast – we killed one of Wen Ruohan’s sons. As soon as I’m better, I’m going to go find people for the Jiang sect, whether cultivators who weren’t here or new ones. And shijie…”

“What can I do?”

Jiang Cheng lifted his finger to point at the corpses, which he hadn’t even questioned. “We need more of those. A lot more of those. An army of them.”

Jiang Yanli frowned. “Where am I supposed to find an army worth of dead people? I was planning on picking up resentful souls of the Wen sect’s victims as we went, but that’ll be incremental, not an army…”

“Actually,” Wei Wuxian said. “I have an idea. Have you ever heard of the Burial Mounds in Yiling…?”

[katzkinder]

Tag, You’re It

Servamp Week Day 2 Entry: Pride/Hospitality

—

In retrospect, you should have realized sooner that something was wrong.

This family was rich. Filthy, stinking, rich, with the kind of wealth that never came from clean hands. Their estate was massive, with such eccentric building design that being a recluse was nearly a given, with an absolutely obscene amount of land surrounding the main house, a veritable forest planted right on top of it, and all smack dab in the middle of Tokyo.

Charity be damned, these people had to be embroiled with something beyond shady to even amass an ounce of the ridiculous fortune that sat in their coffers, and you had been the unlucky soul who thought it would be a good idea to try and rob them blind.

The security, or lack thereof, should have been your first clue that something was horribly, terribly, wrong.

As things were, though… You’d felt uneasy, but pressed onward. No dogs. Cameras at the front gate, but not much else. Guards? You could see none, find none, no matter how many times you staked the grounds.

No one noticed you doing it, either. Or so you had thought.

Now… You realize that they probably just hadn’t cared. Hadn’t thought you worth their time.

You? Were merely a bug, barely worth a thought, and as you stand in the checkered hallway, with its black and white marbled tiles, being stared down by two small children with their red, red eyes, a creeping sense of dread informs you that you are no more than the most insignificant pawn on their board.

Which was ridiculous.

They were only children.

"You shouldn't take that," one says to you, a little girl no more than seven. Her mousy brown hair is in ribbons high on the side of her head, edged in white frills that match the baby pink of her frock. You don’t remember your research turning up a daughter.

"It's bad to take things that aren't yours," says the other, a boy of maybe five with a jet black mop, bright green clips holding his too long fringe out the way. A toy car is in his hands. He’s too young, you note dimly, to be the heir of Alicein.

"Put it back," says another child, with her shiny black mary-janes and kitty patterned coveralls. Her voice makes you jump. You don't know where she came from. She wasn't there a second ago.

More eyes peer from around pillars, around corners, from inside a coat closet where a game of hide and seek had been interrupted, staring you down, and they only seem to be multiplying the longer you stand there, the heirloom you'd been attempting to pilfer clutched tightly in your hands. Their voices rise in volume in their attempts to chastise you until it's all unintelligible.

Abruptly, though, they go quiet, listening to the steady, unhurried footfalls of what's unmistakably an adult. Corn silk hair flutters delicately just above his shoulders, and the smile on his face is sweet, unassuming, red eyes the same as these children deceptively gentle.

"My, my, what do we have here?" His voice is smooth as silk, almost mesmerizing, even, unhurried and unconcerned as children, children, more children, clamor around him and tug at his sleeves, point at you and the proof of your guilt.

As if a spell has been broken, you whip your head around and realize you're surrounded on all sides.

There is no escape.

The man before you realizes it the same time as you do, head tipping coquettishly as he takes a step forward. You take a step back, and the throng of tiny bodies behind you move to become a wall.

“Now now, everyone, let’s not be rude to our guest,” he chides, tracking your every movement, every breath, every twitch. “So..." he starts, clapping pretty, milky white hands together beside his head with cheery glee, "Who wants to play a game of tag~?”

A chorus of meeee! sprouts from each child, hands waving and legs bouncing excitedly, giggling laughter as the fear seeps into you in this dark, awful place, guarded by what are most certainly monsters.

Stupidly, you find yourself worried for the young heir, a boy of only fifteen and whose health is reported to be in poor standing.

Any other thought is scattered when a pathway parts, each and every child running this way and that, leaving you open to attempt to flee. ...And yet you remain frozen as the beast wrapped in beauty’s guise bears down on you, glistening fangs revealed from between grinning, pale pink lips, shining like precious pearls in the light of the moon through window panes.

“I guess,” the man starts, and cold sweat trickles down the back of your neck as you beg your legs to move, move, move, “that makes me It~”

You finally find the energy to bend your traitorous body to your mind’s bidding when a weapon appears in his hands, death’s scythe, beautiful and terrible, dark blade curving elegantly and swinging through the air with far too much grace.

He lunges, and the last thing you hear is that voice, hypnotic and soothing even while your heart pounds so loudly everything else is drowned out by your own terror.

“Have a good dream…”  

[pinknerdpanda]

Surprise

Word Count: 1250 Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Dean. He’s definitely a warning. Fluff. Beta’d by: @princessmisery666​​ - i think I left you off my last one and I feel terrible about that. You always have the right words to make me feel good about anything I do. I can’t imagine 2020 without you. Thank you so much.

A/N: This was written for @shy-violet-soul​​ for her request for Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles! Vy - I love you so so much and I hope that this makes you smile. You deserve the world and I am so thankful for your presence in my life.

Surprise

“Where are we going, Dean?”

Dean grins at y/n from the seat beside her before training his eyes on the road again.

“Just hold your horses, princess. You’ll see soon enough.”

Y/n huffs. Surprises aren’t exactly her favorite thing and though she trusts Dean implicitly, the anxiety of not-knowing makes her grumpy.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Dean implores gently. “I promise it will be worth it. We’re almost there.”

When Dean had told her earlier in the day that he had a surprise for her, she’d expected a gift, maybe. It is Christmas Eve after all. But when he’d ushered her into the Impala without preamble - or gift in sight - she’d been immediately put on edge.

Not that that was anything new. The last year has been…challenging, to say the least. The entire world seems to be on fire. Everyone is angry about something and despite her very best efforts, y/n has been hard-pressed to feel that Christmas cheer she’s been so accustomed to in years past. Between losing Cas, Chuck going insane, Jack taking over his bat-shit crazy grandfather’s job - and doing it much better, in fact -  y/n and the Winchesters have hardly had time to catch their breaths. Christmas actually seemed to have snuck up on all of them. It’s hard to remember what day it is when every week feels like a month.

Dean reaches across the bench seat, his hand finding y/n’s and their fingers intertwining. 

“I know how you feel about surprises and as much as I want to surprise you, I’ll tell you where we’re going if that would make you feel better.”

Y/n studies his handsome profile. After everything that’s been thrown at him, Dean remains one of the kindest and most considerate people she’s ever known. He’s always put everyone else’s needs and wants above his own, and even though this surprise is for her, he wants to surprise her. And Dean deserves to have what he wants. She can handle a few moments of discomfort and anxiety if it means Dean will be happy. Her nerves be damned.

Y/n shakes her head and gives his calloused hand a firm squeeze. 

“No, it’s okay, Dean. I trust you.”

Even in the dim light provided by the streetlamps, y/n could swear she sees his eyes shine a little brighter, their green depths sparkling like the purest of emeralds. And for her, as he squeezes her hand back, that’s enough. 

Minutes later, Dean turns off the main street and into an unfamiliar residential area. Three rights and a left and the darkness is broken by thousands of twinkling lights. Ahead of them, a line of cars is inching down the street, and Dean takes their place in line. The wind is brisk as y/n cranks down the window and gazes outside, but she's too mesmerized by the sight before them to feel the chill.

The entire street - every single house - is absolutely covered in Christmas lights. A sign at the corner reads “Candycane Lane” with a radio station listed below the bright red letters.

“Surprise.”

Y/n whips her head to face Dean. There could be lightbulbs covering every square inch of every home in the city and it wouldn’t compare to the joy lighting up his face in this moment. If his eyes were sparkling before, they are ablaze now. He meets her gaze for a moment before fiddling with the radio and turning it to the station suggested on the sign. A second later, the car is filled with Frank Sinatra’s voice crooning “Jingle Bells”.

“Dean, this is…” y/n exhales shakily, at a loss of words. 

“Oh! Almost forgot!” Dean twists in his seat, reaching into the back and pulling out two small thermoses and handing one to her. “Homemade hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows, of course.”

The music changes and the sounds of Trans-Siberian Orchestra replace Sinatra. It’s at that moment that y/n realizes the lights around them are blinking in time with the music. It’s like the most meticulously choreographed dance, but with Christmas lights. Every crescendo, every beat, every note is accentuated with a flash or blink or color change.

The sight is breathtaking. 

Stunned, y/n looks between the lights, the still unopened thermos of hot chocolate in her hands and the giddy man in the driver’s seat beside her. Her brain can’t even begin to process the words to describe what she’s feeling in the moment.

The car in front of them creeps forward and Dean follows. The house now on her side features a giant inflatable snow globe with some form of snow billowing inside around a smiling polar bear donning a santa hat. Three tinsel-clad penguins flank it on each side, each one holding different things - candy canes, presents, a stuffed bear. The roof is covered in large snowflakes that blink in time with the music and the tree behind the globe is fashioned with strands of lights that give the illusion of snow falling.

Dean grunts in satisfaction and y/n turns to find him nodding his head, staring approvingly at his thermos. A fine line of hot chocolate clings to the scruff on his upper lip. 

“Damn good, if I say so myself.” He looks at y/n and his face drops, brow furrowed. “What’s the matter?”

Bewildered, y/n stares at him for a second before throwing herself across the seat and wrapping her arms around him. 

“Nothing,” she sighs, face buried in the crook of his neck. “Nothing's the matter, Dean. This is...I can’t even describe it. ‘Amazing’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

A car behind them honks and y/n jumps, pulling back and realizing that the car in front of them had moved forward a few spaces. Apparently they were holding up the line, but y/n couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

Dean grunts and inches the car forward, mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘asshat’ under his breath. When they’ve pulled up enough, Dean turns to y/n again.

“So you like it?” Dean quirks an eyebrow, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Like it?!” Y/n practically shouts. “I love it! Dean, this is incredible. I didn’t know there was anything like this around here!”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah I didn’t either. I heard someone at the post office mention it the other day and I just knew I wanted to bring you here.”

Y/n stole a glance out the window again. The song had changed again; a beautiful, symphonic rendition of “O Holy Night”. This yard held a large, though simple, nativity scene, a single, bright spotlight shining down upon it. 

Turning back to Dean, the burn of tears stings the backs of her eyes. “Thank you, Dean.” Her voice is barely above a hoarse whisper.

Dean clears his throat, driving forward once again. 

“Wait until you try the hot chocolate, then you’ll really thank me.”

Y/n reaches over then and laces her fingers through his again. 

“Seriously Dean. This is perfect. Thank you so much for bringing me.”

Dean’s cheeks glow pink under the numerous freckles kissing his skin.

“I just figured this year has been shit and we could both use some Christmas cheer.” He squeezes y/n’s hand gently. “Thank you for trusting me and letting me surprise you.”

Leaning forward, y/n places a kiss against his stubbled cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

FYI I’ve updated my tag list, so if you don’t see your name below and want to, send me an ask. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos: 

@hannahindie​ @amanda-teaches​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @masksandtruths​ @princessmisery666​  @jamielea81​ @foxyjwls007​ @becs-bunker​ @super100012​ @shy-violet-soul​ @emoryhemsworth​ @impandagrl​ @donnaintx​

Hunters:

@deanwanddamons​ @iwantthedean​ @pretty-fortune​ @sgarrett49​ @defenderrosetyler​ @sandlee44​ @deanwanddamons​ @lyarr24​ @akshi8278​

[mega-bastard]

i was kidnapped by shiratorizawa ?!?!?!?!

this was painful to write, but like a masochist I did it anyway. this is my part of the the first Whorehouse Collab, located here. Finally getting back into writing fanfics since like 2015, this was oddly therapeutic.

I wrote this under the influence of magic grass after binging several wattpad fics, enjoy at your own risk-- by which I mean laugh alongside me LMAO

The ending is sososo rushed, in true wattpad fashion <3 this was 1.3K words of nonsense

When I woke up today, I didn’t think I’d end up in such a bind— bindings to be more specific. I’m just your average little miss no one, another everyday student easily lost in the in the crowd. Wearing glasses and being like super shy does that to u, yknow?

Now, blindfolded and tied up, I can’t help but wonder just how someone so unnoticeable had gotten snatched up so suddenly— perhaps that was had why you were taken (insert Liam neeson voice: I will find you, and I will kill you hehe >:3). Now, with the full throb in my head beginning to subside— I started to recount what had bringed me into such s predicament

~ rewind to earlier in the day ~

I’d only just waked up when I received a text from my best friend mina (bnha wink wonk) gushing about or schools volleyball match— to say she was crazy in love aoba Joshuas volleyball team would be selling it crazily underwhelmed. Especially their captain, oikawa tooru ! Most of our school did, but I was really observant of the people around me— he gives me weird vibes, like he puts on an act or something. But still, I keep that thoght to myself so no one comes for me. Seriously, he’s got fans like a Kpop star (a/n haha stan bts for clear skin uwu)

Either way, her dragging me to a volleyball game is nothing new— and as she’s blowing my messages up like the world is ending I know  what to expect this coming afternoon. What a pain, I had planned on watching naruto when I got home today :(

There was no telling Mina no, so when we enviably met to walk to school I was well aware I’d be attending the volleyball match today. Boring, but I’d manage— I don’t care much for sports but sweaty and muscley men are finer than fine, I’d at least have spank bank material hehe (a/n not to whore on main buuuuuut ;3).

The day flew by and suddenly I found my self seated on the stands, waiting for the game to begin. Mina was chatting away, so when the urge to go to the bathroom came I simply got up and left— I wouldn’t get a word in edgewise, everyone always runs at the mouth and I can never get a word in as a result.

Not paying attention on my way to the bathroom, I suddenly shivered— feeling watched. I looked up from staring at the floor and was brought face to face with...the Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team ?!?! At the head was the tank of a captain, japans number one ace Ushijima Wakayoshi (a/n a whole snack yumyum) was indomitable and a scary man to be faced with. Ushijima was still as fierce as ever; I say that because we’d gone to middle school together— we never spoke or anything like that but we’d been in the same classes. He scrutinized my small form with impassive olive eyes, I felt rooted in place at such a state.

I shook myself from my little reverie and quickly scurried off, heart beating a mile a minute. “ just find the bathroom and head back to Mina “ I murmured to myself, finally finding the bathroom after rounding a corner. The feeling of being watched finally lifting.

After using the bathroom and began to head back, I could hear someone...singing something? I began to head towards it out of curiosity, peeking around a corner to see a tall red haired guy and a grey haired guy— they were wearing the same uniform so they must also be a part of the team as well! Lost in my thoughts, I was only briefly able to dick away before the red haired guy turned around to where I was peeking.

Ok seriously, let’s head back ‘ I thought before scurrying back to Mina— who grilled me on my absence before becoming entranced in the starting game. I stayed on my phone for the most part, reading one direction fanfic— with the phone screen down waaay low (a/n who else has done this before ???). Id peek every now and again to watch, at one point catching the eye of the tall red head— a chill ran down my spin at his impish smile that I looked away immediately.

He was...cute. In a scary way.

A sudden hush flew across the crowd and I looked up in time to see oikawas serve hit clean across the net, received by some guy with brown hair before being set by some twat with shitty hair (a/n shirabus a twat, their I said it >:/) before the ball was spiked back with a force unmatched.

That was Match point. Shiratorizawa wins.

The air is oppressive, oikawas fan girls— mina included, are wailing. That’s my cue to exit, bidding a mina goodbye I began my way down the hail, the rush of the court fading into background.

Then suddenly, rushing feet and the crack of something hard against my skull.

Darkness consumed me.

~ back to the present ~

Now back to the hear and now, I hear murmerings-- voices I don’t recognize. I try to listen, try to focus in on their voices but I can’t as the throbbing in my skull takes my focus away. A whimper escapes me, and a silence sweeps across wherever I am like a breeze-- it’s scary.

“haha, is she awake?” it’s the sing=songy voice from before-- the red head probably then? I know I needed to say something, anything, but I was still to disoriented. The sound of shoes nearing me immeadiatly set me off, beginning to wiggle and move before I was held still vision suddenly assaulted with brightness as my blindfold is redmoved.

Standing before, me in all their glory, is the Shiratorizawa volleyball team??

It looks like I’m being held in...an empty dorm room? I’m trying to gather my bearings and cannot figure what to possibly ay before being yanked up harshly from a laying position. It’s the red head holding me up, wicked smile and everything as he crouches in front of me before opening his mouth.

“ You belong to us now, got it~” his voice is too cheery given the words he’s just said to me (a/n tendou owns my heart and soul <3333 ), and only now does my voice find me. “ B-but w-why m-m-me ? You c-can’t j-just do t-that, please just let me g-g-g-g-g-g-go !” by the time I finish blubbering, theres tears streaming down my cheeks like rushing rivers. Through my lashes, I look pitifully around at everyone-- landing on an umcomfortble looking kid with a bowl cut, but he looks away as soon as i stare up at him.

no, no ,no nononono no ones going to help me. the tears fall puddle on the floor, only growing in speed when ushijima speaks. “ You’ll be transfering here, become our manager, and be staying in this dorm room-- it’s already been settled” (a/n idk I’d be p happy to be shiratorizawa’s manager uwu) his voice is deep and leaves no room for any back talk, but my stomach drops at his next sentence “Semi, put it on her’ my head whips up, starring doe eyed at the grey haired guy from before as he approaches with...IS THAT A COLLAR AND LEASH??? (a/n insert debby ryan face)

my face heats up, embarrassed and ashamed at the idea of being collared like an animal. I try to wiggle away, annoying Semi, “Tendou hold her still damnit!” at that Tendou-- the red head, grips my face with one hand to keep me still, gripping it hard enough that hes smushing my cheeks (a/n tendou, t e n d o u, loml, how I cherish thee) . He mutters a quiet cute, so faint I think I’m hearing things, before the tightening of the collar breaks me from that train of thought. With that done, I’m released, falling to my hands and knees staring up at the entire team now gathered before me.

A tug on the leash tugs me forward without much effort, and the tears spring up once more at the humiliation. 

“This is gonna be fun~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ok so I hoped you guys loved it <3 I’ll try my best to get out weekly updates, next chap I’m thinking I either focus on how ushijima and reader-chan actually do know eachother, shirabu and semi fiighting of reader-chans attention, or maybe tendou and reader-chan getting into trouble while draggin goshiki into it! SOund off in the comments and let me know what you think ?? anyway love you guys sm <33333

[queenofanime]

The Misfit

Okay so this is just part of a story in which the main character is a criminal, so yeah...

Bakugo x criminal reader

Stealthily I began to approach the barrier. I stood by the wall, finding an angle to climb on. Smoothly I got on top and jumped into the small forest. The school was dark and lifeless. It was around 1:30 am. In a few moments, I arrived at class 1-A dorms. I didn't hear voices, yet, there, alone on the porch was Bakugo. He was with his head down, so he hadn't seen me. Not wanting to be spotted I decided to keep walking, however looking around, I could hear small sobs. I knew he hadn't passed the exam. I wasn't known to be a sweet, caring person, and part of me just wanted to head to my dorm, but these past months have made me a little softer.

With no energy at all, I decided to approach him.

"Hey"

Startled he looked up. Whipping away some tears, he growled, "What do you want." Rolling my eyes at his attitude I let out a scoff, "Mind if I seat with you." Not waiting for a response, I sat down.

*Bakugo's P.O.V*

Y/n sat down with no hesitation. Looking at her up close made my stomach feel weird, just like butterflies. The moonlight traced all her qualities. She looked so pretty and innocent and yet her personality was the complete opposite. "What are you doing at this hour?" She finally asked breaking the silence. Turning around to face her with suspicion, I hissed "I could ask the same." She pulled her collar down revealing a dark purple bruise lining her neck. "I just came from a bar fight, you?" My eyes widen at her blunt response. Soon she lifted her shirt completely, revealing purple welts scattered across her abdomen. "This guy hit me with a wrench, but you should have seen how he ended up." Small chuckles escaped her lips. I only stayed silent as I watched in awe. "Well, what about you?" She asked again. "I got into a fight with Deku." "Is that why you were crying?"

Blushing like a madman I turned my head and huffed. I could hear her giggle, which only made me redder and more embarrassed.

"I wasn't crying-!" "For the next 3 minutes, I'm going to be cheesy," she interrupted. "And if you tell a living soul that I was nice, I'm gonna hunt you down and kick your ass." She said while punching my arm, "you got that?" "Yeah, whatever" I growled. 

Looking at the sky for a minute, she sighed. "Look, you don’t have to be tough every minute of every day. It’s okay to let down your guard. There are moments when it’s the best thing you can do – as long as you choose your moments wisely." Her blue eyes staring directly into mine, "Got that tough guy? The scars you bear are the signs of a competitor. You’re in a lion fight. We are all in a lion fight. Just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you don’t know how to roar." 

We stared back at each other for what seemed like hours until she finally dropped her gaze, “And there’s one more thing,” her voice was quieter now, less sure. She looked back up at me; a gentle flush of pink had arisen in her cheeks that made her look vulnerable. I held my breath as she leaned upon the tips of her hands and tentatively pressed her soft lips to mine. My head had gone hazy; my body became stagnant at the sensation of her lips against mine. So this is what a kiss feels like? So sweet and silken it’s enough to melt even the hardest-hearted man. Just as I was going to lose myself in this moment, she retreated, a look of discomfiture on her face. "I'm sorry I'm a f-felon, this was inappropriate." Without letting me speak, she stood up. Regret washed over her. "I'm s-sorry." She repeated and left running, disappearing into the night.

[shintorikhazumi]

Honey

A/N: Clearly, based on Kehlani’s song. Also, One, I did not try to learn the song on guitar just for this fic… Two, this may or may not be an advertisement to the Pole Dancing! AU I’m planning once I’ve completed A Warm Diana. That pole dancing au is completely separate from that one-shot I released, “Dance For Me.”, though it’s possible that a chapter may be named as such. Been a while since I did a songfic so… woot. The events here probably won’t happen in the final AU tho, but the world details are shared~. Not as much pole dancing as the last, sorry

Dedicated to @kagarikhylev, thank you! I said last, last weekend but I got swamped by college starting up again, all the LWA reposts to ao3 since I’m behind, and just generally… being distracted by a lot of things, so deepest apologies.

This fic may or may not be good. I am screwed because I have a 7am quiz and it’s 9:48pm, and I did not study a thing. Priorities, amiright? My concentration is busted.

Also. Diana is an idiot.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 Honey

“I like my girls just like I like my honey, sweet

A little selfish…”

She walks through the halls, following the echoing of unfamiliar lyrics against the empty corridor. The clock ticks just that bit closer to five in the afternoon, and the east wing is relatively empty, save for the presence of a voice carrying that pleasant tune, and words that pique her interest. At the moment, she should be on her usual search for her friend who has been avoiding her like a pandemic these past few days, but her body is keen on taking a detour, her ears the leader that guides her whole way. Eventually, she finds herself standing in front of the sliding door to one of the dance course’s practice rooms. She expects that to be here, seeing as the music programs featuring vocal and instrumental courses held their classes on the opposite side of the large building, according to the map posted down the hall.

What she isn’t expecting is the singing present in the air. Because why would singing come from here? From a dance major?

While singing might not be solely reserved for the ones actually studying it, it is a rarity for occasions such as this to happen in a school that had students ready to ridicule anyone not up to par with their personal standard of skill. This holds especially true for those majoring in classical music as they often have their heads lifted high, considering their genre to be ‘superior’ to the rest.

So, she understands why theater children stick to theater, why dance majors stick to moving their bodies to the beat, and why people aiming to get into Philharmonic- much like her- only stick to performing and doing what they do best, in-and-out of class hours.

Here, in this institution, resides a slightly toxic, competitive atmosphere that forces you to give your all for your craft, and not insult others by dabbling in their own specialties half-heartedly. There is no encouragement, there is no beautiful rivalry.

Or at least, that’s what she’s known since entering both vocal and instrumental programs. As a flutist, in particular, there remains quite a bit of competition for seats in their prestigious school’s main touring orchestra, so auditions that may as well be full-blown battles were common. The dance majors always look so friendly from afar, though; maybe they are different.

And maybe that’s why they remain the school’s outcasts.

Breathing out her thoughts into a puff of air to clear her mind, she peeks through the small window of the room’s door. Her eyes widen in surprise, but pink lips tip into a fond smile as she spots a familiar tuft of brunette hair in that signature hairstyle she knew all too well. The one she’s been looking for.

‘What a treat.’

She leans heavier on the glass, pressing her ear against the door, believing it might allow her to hear this secret serenade better.

“I like my women like I like my money, green

A little jealous-“

In the light of the late afternoon sun, the singer is enchanting, magical. Reflected through ocean blues, she always has been. Ever since they first met. But something’s changed. There is a different kind of blossoming taking place in the musician’s heart. She doesn’t understand it. But she wants to. However, she wants to understand it with that particular girl- singing with abandon on the floor, antique guitar in her lap- by her side, but being avoided doesn’t make her need any easier to satisfy.

She doesn’t understand it at all. Why she can’t solve it on her own. She doesn’t understand why she’d being avoided either.

Hums ease the creases that have subconsciously formed on her forehead, the gentle voice tickling her ears pleasantly. It eases a weight off her soul, and she relishes in the ambience of the present hour.

She would have loved to listen for much longer had she not accidentally placed her full weight on the door at the wrong angle, sliding it open with a very audible screech. And the next thing she knows, she’s falling forward, and the floor comes up, about to give her a kiss she won’t forget, and it’s not the one she would have preferred.

But no, that should not happen. If her moniker of ‘Miss Perfect’ was anything to go by, she is sure she can do anything. Including catching herself against the now stuck door, leaving her bent in an awkward posture, face hovering inches off the floor. The sudden chain of actions has her heart jump up to her throat, all the calm air in her lungs stolen by shock. She remains in an awkward position for a while longer, gathering her bearings, and thankful she didn’t injure herself with what had just occurred. The room’s occupant is just as surprised as she is, apparently.

Shaking away her initial wide-eyed expression and donning an appreciative smile, she poses a casual statement, trying to brush off the awkward situation as she stands up to her full height, brushing imaginary dust off her jacket at the same time.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.”

There’s a curious pause, wine-red eyes stunned at the brash intrusion to her solo afternoon world. The perpetrator feels her toes clench in nerves, hidden behind closed shoes. She’s hoping her companion wouldn’t just… stare. She’s certain those eyes have a million questions running amok in her pretty little head, but she is beginning to feel the heat rising its steady course up her face, and is unsure she could handle this atmospheric pressure any longer.

By some deity’s saving grace, there’s a blink to reboot the mind of those same questioning eyes, the room’s initial occupant finally managing a response. “It’s a little hobby… I almost didn’t hear you come in.” Stood by the door, the newcomer wonders if that was meant to be a joking or a literal statement.

“And you never said you could sing.”

“I don’t.” The guitar is kept to the side, in a place hidden from the immediate view of anyone casually visiting the room. “I dance, is what I do.”

“I know.”  The flutist replies as casually as she strives to look in these strange moments; she hopes to keep the conversation flowing, to keep the person in front of her from leaving her side again. “I watch you.”

“Of course, you do.”

  //-//-//-//-//

She wonders what the song is all week. It replays over and over in her head in class. It haunts her dreams at night, and plagues her in the waking hours. She even unconsciously hums it while doing her homework in the library. This leaves her friend, Hannah, wide-eyed.

And she appears to be wide-eyed as well.

“Diana!” Is the harsh whisper in her ear. She doesn’t like the feeling of hot air there, but her astonishment at the fact that this song has now consumed her renders her the tiniest bit numb.

“What.” Diana replies just as quiet, but softer in delivery.

“Why are you singing that?” The brunette queries, voice no longer a whisper, and away from Diana’s ear, but low enough to not be overheard by anyone else in the vicinity. She doesn’t look mad, nor is she upset. Diana takes note of this. She’s merely… very, very befuddled.

“Is something the matter? I think I like the tune.”

“…”

“Hannah?”

“Do you really not know what that song is about?” Is the bewildered reply. “I mean… I know you aren’t that straight, m’lady…or at all…” The last part, she whispers under her breath. “but… like… I didn’t think you would expose yourself like this?”

With the faintest flush on her cheeks, Diana responds in confusion. “What are you saying? Am I not supposed to like this song?”

The shorter girl is taken aback slightly. “N-no, you can like… it. Just… your voice professor would have a heart attack if she hears you sing that and knows the song, so let’s not. Okay? Not in public, at least. Especially with your status.” She huffs, then whips her head back up, recalling something. “Don’t play it on you flute either. I see Barbara wasn’t lying when she freaked out earlier at lunch telling me about this.”

“I still fail to understand the problem?” Diana states, impatient as her foot taps on the wooden floorboards.

“Of course. Because you’re dense.” Is the offensive reply she gets. Before she can retort, or pose further question, Hannah takes her by the hand, clearing up all their stuff single-handedly with the other, showcasing surprising efficiency; and she drags her friend right out of the area.

As they turn into a relatively empty hall, the heiress’ hand is released, and she walks side-by-side with her friend who releases a snort that is succeeded by a fit of giggles that are quickly replaced with bouts of laughter. The brunette bends over, hitting her knees, tears at the corners of her eyes.

“Diana, you utter idiot.”

“Wha-“

All too quickly, the laughs dissipate and a serious Hannah slaps her hand on Diana’s shoulders in a firm grip.

“I would have hoped you’d look up the lyrics if you recalled them, but then again, you’re hopeless with technology. Or if you only heard the tune… well, I guess that’s understandable too.” The brunette patted her cheek fondly.

“It’s called Honey.” And Hannah finally tells her the title she’s been seeking; feeling grateful she hugs her friend.

“Wh-what’s happening?! Will I die tomorrow?”

“You overreact.” Diana rolls her eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“Don’t listen to it too much that you become addicted. Don’t want to catch you at the head of even more rumors than you already are.” Her shorter friend teases, picking up the materials she dropped earlier as she made a grab at Diana. “I’m serious.”

“Do you doubt my self-control?”

“After meeting her, what I do doubt is if you have much left.”

Diana splutters, chasing after the fleeing imp sticking her tongue out at her.

She’ll get back at her.

Hannah is rarely right over her, after all.

  //-//-//-//-//

Hannah is right, after all.

Immediately after reaching her room, Diana had looked it up; her barely cooperating fingers carefully typing in five simple letters… that soon became nine with a space between the previous ones and new ones as she clearly knows that she’s not looking to view videos of bees and liquid gold in glass jars.

And after the first click, she’s defeated. She listens to it over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over again.

//-//-//-//-//

[“'Cause I'm a beautiful wreck

A colorful mess, but I'm funny”]

The video plays on her phone for the thirtieth time that day. Considering that it is barely noon, with classes in between this time and the moment she woke up, that’s probably a lot of repeats. It isn’t unhealthy yet. Right?

And she likes the song. It plays well in the background as she does her homework. She’s too distracted for the lyrics to register properly in her mind anyway.

So a woman was singing about her companion who she seemed to be very loyal to. Just as Diana was to her new best friend. The singer also appeared to be bragging about their charm… and their preferences on women’s attitudes? Or visuals? Did this person like green-skinned ladies?? Who happened to be jealous and tasted sweet? Diana always thought the skin had a more… salty flavor to it.

Maybe she should ask what her new friend, Akko, thinks about this. She has been slowly sharing bits and pieces of her world to the unknowing prodigy, and she always likes hearing the brunette’s opinion on various subjects. Akko’s opinion.

Ah, yes. Akko. Right.

And Diana goes back to that afternoon with Akko and the guitar. The catalyst for this strange addiction to Honey. Not the food, she added to herself. The song.

The song, yes, now entering the thirty-first cycle. As the words came to play with the dancing melodies, Diana muses that the lyrics certainly suit the girl who had introduced this wonderful song to her.

[“'Cause I'm a beautiful wreck

A colorful mess, but I'm funny”]

And she reaches this part once more, still thinking of the one named Kagari Atsuko. The dance major, and her newest best friend. Friend. Yes, that’s what her other friends had said. She's been spending far too much time; sparing too much attention on her… friend, so they were a little lonely.

She digresses.

Anyway. Akko. Yes. She may not be much of a wreck– scratch that, maybe she was. Diana chuckles. Nevertheless, as the lyrics preach over and over, she was a beautiful one. Incredibly so.

She is all the vivid colors of the world, incredibly funny. Diana is not one for comedy, but Akko pulls laughs out of her with fabulous ease.

She closes her eyes, seeing that loveable face blinding her with the brightness of the sun, encompassing her with its warmth, and inspiring her each day. What an amazing friend.

As blues are revealed to the world behind the fluttering of thick lashes, she takes in the vast rehearsal room designed for the practices and assessments of the dance majors for ballroom. It houses a piano and a few of the larger percussion instruments for the live accompaniment of collaborating music majors. It also serves as the general area of practice for when the school would prepare for their showcases and events. Or well, this room used to be all of that. Now, it simply remains as a spare practice and storage room.

After the students had fallen into an unfixable dispute due to their hardheadedness towards their differences, collaborations seldom happen. When they do occur, they are looked down upon by the rest of the body. It was a shameful ordeal, supposedly.

It is a shame, Diana agrees. That they would sacrifice the beauty of performance for pride.

Only the people who come to utilize all this free space clean it before and after using. That is rare as well. Anyone who reserves this room becomes the target of rumors to want to unify a broken crowd.

And nobody wants that. That’s what the populace says.

The poor unused floorboards, the scarcely maintained instruments and tools… and here she sits at the aforementioned sad piano, lid sliding open, fingers splaying across ivory keys. She punches a note. And another, and the tune that has been imprisoned in her mind- or has it imprisoned her mind- is now escaping into the air, into the theme that fills her senses. She first tests it out with just the melody on one hand, but then her left comes to join in the only dance she really knows how to do.

This moment is hers alone. No one can come to break it.

Hannah can’t complain if she goes against her advice and performs the song for no one anyway.

A beautiful song for a beautiful no one.

She caresses it like a ballad, hands deftly sweeping over the keys, light and gentle.

Piano used to be her first love. Her mother loved it more. After she passed, Diana had lost many competitions, and she was forbidden from touching one ever again.

Only in secret could she stroke her lover’s keys, that beautiful ivory, that shimmering black. Only in secret could she kiss the melodies with all her affection, press down with the right pressure to allow the instrument to voice its beautiful moan of music.

Only in secret would could she play this song on repeat; only in secret could she play it herself; only in secret could she think on the lyrics well; only in secret would she link every syllable to one girl.

Only in secret could she wish she were here.

Only in secret could she realize and admit,

“I love you… Akko…”

--

A clanging sound, loud, metallic.

There’s a pole rolling on the floor, and the sound of shuffling, a figure scrambling to gather her belongings now scattered everywhere.

“…Akko.”

“Diana. Hi.” Rubies flit about, landing temporarily on anything not Diana. “You… were practicing… a thing?” Her voice is choked, its timbre pitched higher than the usual. “I guess I should leave you-“

“NO!” She doesn’t mean to yell, but her desperation has the better of her. She only has so little time to stop the girl from escaping her again. “S-stay. I… I mean… stay? Please stay? Please Stay.” She says the same words in different ways and tones, unsure. “Don’t… leave me.”

A nod is the only movement the frozen body can manage. There’s this stillness between them before Diana pushes out words from her frenzied mind.

“C-come here?” She pats the bench beside her awkwardly, not knowing if her invitation was a welcome one. She breathes a sigh of relief when Akko places her things to the side, neatly against the wall before walking up to her, standing by the bench, staring at the hand still covering the seat.

She hesitates.

“Sit?”

She does. She leaves a hand’s-width of space between them.

And it’s a painful silence.

One Diana tries to break.

“Hi.” She seeks her eyes.

“Hi.” They don’t seek hers. “What did you call me here for?” Akko asks nervously, feet shuffling against the floor.

Think fast, Diana. Anything to make her stay longer.

And it’s only honey on her mind once more. Her saving grace. “C-Could you sing that song for me once more?” Akko looks like she’s having difficulty recalling. “The one I walked in on...”

Akko bites her lip nervously as she contemplates that, and Dear mother of Cavendish Diana finds that so attractive.

“I don’t… think I know what you’re talking about.” The dancer plays dumb.

But Diana wants her plan of… whatever she’s trying to do… to work. So, her mind, as helpful as it is, hides the memory of the title she’s replayed over and over. She tries to tell her the song anyway. As best she can.

“It’s… it’s the one about loyal friendship.”

“F-friendship?” If Akko had been playing dumb earlier, she no longer was. She doesn’t recall singing a song about friendship…

“And the singer boasting of their charm… and their… preferences for women, I suppose? Or maybe it’s not friendship. Companionship? Partnership? The one where… something about jealousy and sweetness and colors, and flying- and dear Beatrix, I deeply apologize for my incompetence, Akko…” Diana covers her face in a shame that’s burning the blonde alive.

Silence.

“Pffft- what the hell Diana, ahahahaha.” Akko finally loosens all that tension she imposes on Diana, relenting. Diana was just too irresistible. Knocking lightly against the music major’s head, she makes known the song’s name once more. “It’s called Honey.”

She doesn’t understand this sudden change in mood, in mind, but Diana now has the opportunity to play it cool, her plan of keeping Akko there, having Akko want to stay there is working. So despite not understanding, she welcomes this in comparison with the cold she’s received as of late.

“O-Oh? I didn’t know that.” But of course, Diana does. Clearly.

“Well, you do suck at using your phone. And your laptop. And the internet.”

“Akko!”

And there’s that pretty pink flush on her face once more, annoying her.

“Fine.” Akko says.

“Huh?”

“I’ll sing it.”

“Y-you will?!” Diana finds herself standing excitedly, hands clutching Akko’s.

“Wow, you really must want to hear that song.”

“I… I’ve been a little curious…”

Akko smiles that gorgeous, honest smile. “I can see that.” She gets up as well, facing Diana, but then remembering something. “Ah! But… what time is it… I was supposed to be practicing for the show at the bar later, and I have class in-” The time read two pm, on the dot. “Shit, I only have an hour, and I have to leave for my job right after the lesson…”

That explains the pole she had with her.

It was no secret to Diana that Akko had gone to school here at Luna Nova against her parents wishes. Akko also worked a night job, pole dancing in secret. It was- is her passion. Not to entice people into desiring her body, by any means, but to tell a story of grace, honor, sensuality, and honesty through her dance.

And the medium Akko chooses is the pole.

“Oh, I know!” The brunette interrupts her reverie. “How ‘bout you play the song again, and I’ll practice to it. The music I was going to use has roughly the same tempo, I think.”

“…are you going to sing while dancing?” Diana speaks to the retreating back that moves to prepare her set-up, Akko loosening a secret portion of wood on the floor away to reveal a hole that would snuggly hold her practice pole in place.

“Eh, why not?” She shrugs, nonchalantly and Diana is amazed by her as always. “Two birds with one pole, or something.”

“Stone.”

“Same thing.”

Finishing her little stage, Akko smiles in triumph, chucking her jacket and jogging pants to the side without a care. Not even for Diana who pries her eyes away from toned muscle.

“Ready when you are.”

Diana isn’t, but she plays for Akko’s sake anyway. Her hands traverse the keys on instinct, eyes on the slender figure that begins its preliminary moves in grace and desire.

Red meets blue and the show starts.

  “I like my girls just like I like my honey, sweet~

A little selfish”

It’s a simple twirl about the pole, with a wink thrown in, but Diana thinks it’s the most spectacular motion already.

“I like my women like I like my money, green

A little jealous”

And there’s the pleasant laugh she adores.

“'Cause I'm a beautiful wreck

A colorful mess, but I'm funny”

Akko sings in that strong voice, as she runs her hands through her hair, shaking the strands loose as she prances around the metal shaft before clutching onto it, allowing herself to fly through the air. By the next line, she’s sliding down painfully slow, body pressed against the reflective equipment in the room, eyes locked with Diana’s. A hand clutches the thin fabric barely covering her chest, the other reaching out to pull Diana in, only strong legs keeping her up.

“Oh, I'm a heartbreak vet

With a stone-cold neck, yeah, I'm charmin'”

‘You truly are…’ Diana says to herself, her heart starting to physically hurt with the desire to touch, and to hold in her arms. That smile shot at her was simply unfair.

“All the pretty girls in the world

But I'm in this space with you”

For a second, Diana feels as though Akko were speaking these words to her for real. That idea makes it that much tighter in her chest. There was no way. That Akko finds her appealing like that, that she would choose to stay with Diana here… Diana… hadn’t forced her to do this little thing they were having at the moment, right?

“Colored out the lines

I came to find, my fire was fate with you”

‘Fate…’ Her sight turns bleary, but she doesn’t understand why. Warmth traces after the wetness that rolls down one cheek. And that hand surprises her, cupping her cheek, prompting her to look up into emotional pools of red that are very, very close. Their proximity is far too close. “Wha-“ When had Akko…

“Heartache would stay with you

Fly great escapes with you, oh…”

-are the murmured lyrics, breaths ragged puffs of air brushing against her parted lips. A hand rested over her own that had now crumpled the cloth of her shirt over her chest, fist gripped tightly.

“You… stopped…hah… playing… Diana.” Akko gets out, breathing uneven the sudden change of her moving body to its stationary state.

Ah. She has. Her other hand is simply resting on the keys, motionless. She feels kind of bad now, to have cut Akko’s practice performance short; but she can’t even work a reply out. Her lips tremble, facial muscles feel wobbly.

“Hmm… that’s no good. I can’t complete your request without your help.” Akko muses, taking a deep breath of air as she pulls away from the shaken heiress. Index finger of her free hand tapping against her cheek, her eyes lit up in realization. “I know!”

“H-huh…?”

“Diana.” At the call of her name, she offers her attention. “Come dance with me.”

“W-wait, I can’t-“

But it’s too late for that, and she’s easily dragged by the overwhelming force of Akko’s strength built from the foundation of dancing and every other physical activity she must have done to mold her body into the shape that it is now. Striking, alluring, lean, and every bit the exquisite art that Diana sees it as.

And now said art presses against her back, pushing her against the cold metal Akko clings on to on a regular basis. Hands guide her own to grasp the bar, and soon they slowly spin. A soft voice hums into her ear, those sounds turning into the lyrics she’s far past memorizing now.

They are engraved in her very heart.

“I countdown to the clock, saw you awake

Don't walk away, or would you wait for me?”

How ironic that Akko should sing this for her. When Diana has been the one pleading for her to stay day by day- maybe not in words, but in her gestures, in her eyes, in her sighs. How hurtful she was being, when Diana has been the one seeking after her. When Diana is already the one waiting.

How cruel, Akko.

“I go out to the bar, fuck hangin' with the stars

Don't even have a car, but you would wait for me, mm-hmm”

A shiver crawls up her neck, tiny hairs upright as Akko’s lips vibrate against the skin there as she hums the end of the line. The touch is ghostly, barely there, but Diana knows. She knows.

It was painful.

So, so painful for Diana.

Akko feels that pain as it drips onto the arm she has wrapped around Diana’s waist, the girl curling into herself as she bites her lip to keep her sobs trapped within.

“I-I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what’s come over me, I should just!” She wants to escape. Just escape and run from the confusion that hangs in shadows over her clarity.

But Akko doesn’t let her.

Quickly, she’s in a tighter hold, a gentler hold; the scent of strawberries and sweat permeating the bubble of air they are locked in. Her eyes see black as a hand goes over to cover them; she feels Akko’s movements through the back of her shirt.

They make another twirl.

Everything in her heart stirs along with the motion; it aches.

“All, all, all…”

Diana waits for those familiar lyrics to go on, each word digging painfully into her, because, in the end, that’s all they are. Lyrics. Lyrics that make her realize just what it is that draws her like a moth to the everlasting brightness that is Kagari Atsuko.

What it is that keeps her listening, if only to fuel her imagination when all these lines point to the same girl, painting pictures in her dreams of them walking aimlessly on a street, Akko smiling at her, laughing with her. So beautifully.

“…all the pretty girls in the world…”

She braces herself for the same old lines, ones that mean nothing but the words to catchy music.

“But they don’t compare to you.”

And they don’t come. The change of words had her whip her head up, craning her neck to look behind her, puzzled; Akko had already hidden herself against Diana’s nape. Those… That’s… not… how she remembered the song…

“You’re the color of my life

I’d battle fate if it meant I’d stay with you”

“That’s…”

“My heart aches; it longs for you”

“That isn’t…”

…

“…I know I’m in love with you.”

And Akko releases her, stepping away from the pole, and from her. It’s all cold again, freezing the blood that pumps through her veins after the bombardment to her senses.

“I’m sorry.” There are tears in Akko’s eyes now. And she just stops singing altogether. “I’m sorry.” Her voice loses that melody, now replaced by sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s…”

“You must have realized, right? What I’m feeling.” She smiles grimly. “Ugly, dirty… wrong feelings… for someone like my best friend… and… I’m sorry I made you cry. You must have felt creeped out and harassed, huh? You must have been scared because I wouldn’t let you go…”

“That isn’t, that’s-“

“I’m sorry, forcing myself onto you after being so cold. I… I didn’t mean to avoid you, I just-“ She meets the confusion that clouds the sky in Diana’s eyes. “I didn’t want you to know if by chance you didn’t feel the same way.”

“That’s…”

“I… when I came into the room, I thought I’d heard wrong. What you said… the… c-confession…” Akko clenches her eyes shut, willing the tears away. “But then you said the song was about friends, so I probably have the wrong idea, and you might have just meant that you… l-love me as a friend.” She sniffles. “So, I’m sorry. I just…” I sob rips its way past the barriers of her lips, and more tears spill down apple-red cheeks. “I didn’t want you to find out like this… but I’ve… for so long…”

A beat passes, and Akko’s teary hiccups, and the pair’s mismatched breathing are the only sounds that remain in the room.

“You… You can reject me now, or something. Please don’t be this quiet, Diana.” Akko laughs bitterly, saltiness escaping sealed eyes. “I guess, I just couldn’t help it any more. Ran out of options, had nothing else I wanted to do here but tell you I love you.”

Another beat. There’s a breeze that rustles the leaves outside closed windows. Breaths calm, and the only noise that remains is the occasional sniff.

“Please just say something so I can leave.” Akko whispers, only for them to hear.

“That’s… that’s wrong.” Diana finally manages to complete her sentence.

“Loving you? Yeah. I know.”

“No.”

“Oh, leaving after telling you something so imposing like that-?”

“No, what’s wrong is… That… That’s not…”

“That’s not what, Diana?” Akko asks, a little high-strung from everything. “You’ve been repeating those words a while now.”

“That’s…”

“Hmm?”

“That’s not how the lyrics go…”

“…”

“…”

“…Diana, you dense little- mrrnngghhh!” Akko reaches forward, hands almost touching Diana’s cheeks before they pinch the air, shaking with whatever feeling fueled her strength to have her hands trembling like that. “I cannot believe you. I just… I just confessed to you, poured my heart and soul out, and all you remember, all you can say about that WHOLE thing, was that I got my lyrics wrong?!”

Akko fumes, red in the face with frustration, or sadness, or confusion, or maybe all of those combined.

“… yes?”

“Well, ain’t that great, then?” Akko sarcastically utters. “You seem relatively unaffected by all of this. Guess I should have only worried about unrequited feelings.” She begins trudging toward her water bottle by the window, donning her jacket after taking a few sips.

She is just about ready to leave.

“What next? You at least want to stay friends now? I can stay friends if you give me… space for the next couple of days to get over you-“

“Why would you have to do that? Can’t we be friends at the same time?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

The pair blinks synchronously in their shared confusion.

“I mean... Don’t we feel the same way? I know dating follows after these kinds of events… and then we become l-lovers… but I believe that being best friends on top of that is even more wonderful-“

“Waitwaitwaitwait, hold it! Hold it right there!” Akko waves her arms frantically in front of her.

“I- what do I hold… exactly?”

Slapping a hand over her face, Akko lets all this information sink in, processing it with her brain that has definitely shrunk from all the stupidity taking place in one room. Is it her? Or is it Diana? The one who is misunderstanding things? Or are they both not coming to an understanding? Do they just not understand each other?

“So let me get this straight…” Akko pinches the bridge of her nose, a migraine coming on.

“Of course.”

“We’re both not straight.”

“… ah.”

Akko looks to her companion curiously at the weird sound.

“That’s what Hannah meant.” Diana says with an audible snap of her fingers, face looking very enlightened, a smile decorating her features.

“…”

“Eh- Akko? Where are we going? Akko?!”

“I could kill you right now, but it’s almost time for my class. You are coming with me to work, and we will talk about this afterwards.”

“Understood.”

“Finally! One of us understands.” She drags Diana behind her, marching towards her classroom.

“Then, why must I accompany you to your class?”

“…”

“Akko?”

Diana feels a tingle in her heart at the sight of red-tipped ears, at the feeling of a heated hand holding hers, and words that are the lyrics to the best song she’ll ever hear in her lifetime.

“I love you, and I just found out you love me too… so I wanted to kiss you…”

Diana’s smile grows wider, now a stupid grin on her face. “But?”

“I’m late for class, so staring at you will have to suffice.” The blonde is pleased to know they both have their priorities set. Though she wouldn’t have minded straying from time-to-time.

“Understood.”

“You’re beginning to understand a lot of things now, it seems.”

“Naturally. I’m a fast learner.” Diana boasts. Akko simply rolls her eyes at that. “Am I allowed to stay with you in your class? What is your next class, anyway?”

“I think it’s the required language class?”

“Oh, I have that now too... Wait- we share that class, don’t we?” Diana realizes, her steps speeding up and now she’s the one dragging Akko.

“Oh, right~, wait- Diana?”

“We have a quiz in that subject.”

“…”

“…”

“Fucking run, Diana! Remember stuff like that and tell me sooner! You idiot best friend!”

“I’m your lover now too!”

“JUST. RUN.”

“I love you too, Akko.”

“I love you most.”

  //-//-//-//-//

  “I (I), I like my girls just like I like my honey, sweet

A little selfish… huh”

“You’re selfish”

Akko pauses in her guitar playing to slap the blonde’s hand.

“I like my women like I like my money, green” Both chuckle at the joke only they share; Diana rolling her eyes, sporting a blush, her minty strands fluttering in the wind. “A little jealous”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” Akko teases, kissing red cheeks.

“Oh, I'm a beautiful wreck

A colorful mess, but I'm funny”

“You are.”

“Oh, I'm a heartbreak vet (oh)

With a stone-cold neck, I'm so charmin', oh, oh”

Shifting to a position behind Akko on the little hill they’ve chosen for their first date, Diana wraps her arms around the slender waist, planting a kiss to Akko’s shoulder blade before resting her head on the girl’s shoulder, positioned in a way that she could just watch the expressions on her girlfriend’s face.

“I love you.”

Akko gives her a wink as she continues her song, everything she is- her tone, her warmth, her body language- exclaiming that she loves Diana back in the way words can’t.

“La-la-la-la-la-la-la

Do-do-do do-do

Ooh

Do-do-do do-do

Do-do-do do-do

Da-da-da da-da

Isn't love all we need? Is it love?

Do-do-do do-do

To be the same prophesy? Is it love?

Do-do-do do-do

Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti, is it love?

Do-do-do do-do

Love (ooh), do-do-do do-do”

It’s a sweet kiss. Gentle, intense, with all the colors of the rainbow, and the passion of the burning sun.

Just like Honey.

  “It’s love.”  

A/N: If you’re wondering what Diana typed, it was “Honey song” because she doesn’t know the artist. Aren’t we glad Diana is such a smart lass?

Also, this was not supposed to be this long and frustrating. Sorry for the mess and bad plot?

Comments, kudos, reblogs, any feedback is always welcomed!

~Shintori Khazumi

[readwithk]

The Wooden House

On December 19th, 1983 a young couple was roaming the streets of Paris. They were newly wedded and they were on their honeymoon. They were very happy. The girl's name was Anna and the boy was Noah. Noah loved her so much. Anna was a pure soul. She was kind and generous. Although, Noah was not that rich, but he never turned any word down that came out of Anna's mouth. He was madly in love and so was Anna. It was a cold evening. Anna was freezing. The wind was blowing, leaves rustling. All of a sudden Anna said, "I think it is time for us to finish our coffee and enter some decent nice shop. I think it is about to rain". "Yes, why not!", Noah replied, "Let me take you to the most famous wood-craft house of Paris". "Where is it?’’  Anna asked excitedly. "It is on this very street. Come on! Let me take you there my love". They both went towards the shop. The shop was not so splendid, yet they decided to go inside. On entering the shop, they saw an old man sitting in his comfortable chair with some small tools in his hands. He was mending something. There was a boy in the shop who was cleaning some ancient artifacts. The shop had everything made up of wood. The boy greeted the couple and asked them that what they want to buy? The couple replied, "Give us some time". The boy left them. Noah asked Anna to roam and see things for herself. She took a quick round of the store and came back. She was a bit disappointed. She said, "Honey, I do not find anything that suits us". Noah asked her for the reason because according to him there were some pretty showpieces that they could buy. She replied, "Nothing in here reflects love". "Do you think love exists?" The old man interrupted. "Yes, of course I do", Anna replied politely. "No one today loves truly. Those were my times when people were mostly sincere. Nowadays, you will not find someone like that", the old man said. "No sire, it is not the truth. I married my husband two weeks ago and we do love each other so much. We have been through good and bad times, but together. I know him for past six years", Anna said. It began to rain outside. The temperature was freezing. It was getting cold. All of a sudden, the bulb got fused due to some electrical issue. The light went off. The boy fetched some candles and lit them. There was a dim light in the store. The old man caught their attention by saying, "I have something that might reflect love, but it is not for sale. I can show it to you if you want me to". The couple keenly agreed. The old man went to a small room inside the store. Five minutes later, he came out with a small wooden house in his hand. He raised his hand and asked the couple to have a look. The house was indeed very beautiful. "It is perfectly splendid", Noah said in amazement. "Yeah! Indeed", Anna added to Noah's statement. "I made it for someone I love. I made it a long time ago. You people won't have time for my story, otherwise I would have told you the reason behind making this wooden house", said the old man. Noah and Anna insisted that they have plenty of time and that they could amuse themselves with a story on a cold and rainy evening like that. The boy stood there listening to them. Noah, Anna, and the old man sat on the chairs. "Before beginning", said the old man, "I would like to tell you that this story belongs to me". And in this way the old man narrated his story. A long time ago, maybe fifty years ago, when I was a fine young man, I fell in love with a dancer. She used to dance in a club. I used to see her. She was so beautiful and young. She had a lady whom she called aunt. She was in a group of twelve young woman. She was youngest of all. She was seventeen and I was twenty years old. I was not that rich. I used to visit the place with my cousin, Ed. Her name was Elizebeth. I used to call her Lizzy. She liked me, too, but was unable to give me importance while dancing. Once she did and the consequences were not good. She was punished. Next day, after performing she was taking her break. I went near her and asked her the reason of her sadness. She hesitated at first, but later, she told me that last night she was punished by a whip and that she will soon be a prostitute once she will cross her eighteenth birthday. It made me sad. Such a beautiful creature she was. Violating her was the violation of the nature. She was a natural beauty. She asked me about my profession. I told her that I was a carpenter. She laughed, but not in an insulting way. She said that I was unique. Every man she had ever danced for was either a commander or a doctor or some other wealthy man. She never in her life ever met a carpenter before. She seemed glad. My cousin came and he told me that my father needed me on his shop. So, I left her there promising her to meet her tomorrow again. Days passed by, we talked and talked and talked and we fell in love without knowing it. Well, I was the only one who did not know it. One evening I was sitting with her. I was smoking my cigar and she was having a glass of bear. Suddenly she said, "I am going to be sold at the end of this week or may be sooner, I don't know". I was sad after listening to the words coming out of her mouth. "Will you marry me? You and me? We both can go to a farm, have our own kids. You'll take them to school. We will raise them. I will love you with all my heart. I will dance for you on the nights you will come home in a bad mood. I will cherish you in your sad moments. I promise you protection. Protection of your honor and dignity. Till death us apart?", she said with a question in her eyes. "Dear Lizzy", I replied, "Let me talk to my father about this". The next morning, I went to my father. He was very cold as usual. He was working on some project. I gathered all the courage in the world to tell him that I am in love and that I need to marry this girl. I took a deep breath and told him everything. He seemed normal until I told him that Lizzy was a dancer. He yelled at me and told me that dancers like Elizebeth are merely a source to calm oneself and not to marry. I told him she was virgin, but he threatened me with my whole career and fortune. He told me that if I will insist anymore, he would hinder me from his wealth and property. My mother came to me and told me that a man with his mother and sisters alive is not meant to marry a whore. I was immature. I went to Lizzy and broke up with her. I was a very foolish man. It saddened me so much because I had affection for her. She was disheveled. She slapped me and went to her small room. I was already dishearten. The slap added the salt to my open wounds. I drank a lot of alcohol. I was sitting in another bar all of a sudden, I saw a man staring at me from the right corner. When I looked at him attentively, I thought he was someone I know, but I was drunk so I tend to left the place. The next morning, I had nothing to do, so I took a block of wood, my tools, and some paint. That was the time I built this beautiful house. But I had no one to give it to. So, I waited for it to dry and I put it in my pocket. I vowed that I will keep it near me no matter what. It reminded me of her every time I looked at it. On the same evening, I went to the same bar. I saw the same man from yesternight. He approached near me and said, "Are you Mr. Elvis Dean?" I replied, "Yes, indeed I am. Why?". "Don't you remember your old friend, Vis?", he said. Now I knew whom I was staring at. The moment I realized who he was, I stood up and hugged him. He was Albert. Albert Franco, my friend. Nine years ago, he went abroad for studies and he returned as a quite rich man. He was a doctor. We exchanged a few words and then he finally asked me about my love-life. I told him about the melodramatic situation I was caught up in. The main problem was money. He smiled at me and offered me financial help. He told me that he could help me with the expenses. All I need to do is to find a priest and my bride to be. I felt really happy. I went home, said my goodbyes to my family. My father hindered me from the property, but it was fine. I was happy and completely supported by a generous friend. I went to her aunt's mansion. She was not her actual aunt. I asked her to send her out and I negotiated with her the price of Lizzy's freedom. She smiled and replied that Lizzy has gone for her first prostitution project with two men. Her words had an impact of a bullet on me. I was unable to speak. I took a step back and I thought that how scared that poor thing might be. I was heartbroken. I went back to my hotel room. I waited for the next day. The next day, I went to the mansion. I asked about her and she wasn't there. That mistress was not answering my questions. I become gravely worried. Another day passed and still no Lizzy. I was furious this time. I went there to claim what was mine. When I reached there, I saw a prostitute waving at me from her window. I went upstairs. Her name was Eva. She told me that Elizabeth was admitted in a hospital and that she was fighting for her life. I somehow maintained my balance and reached the given location as soon as I could back then. I searched every room hysterically and finally I saw her. Her face was bruised. Her wrists had cuts. Her head was shaved from its right corner. Her feet had rope marks. She was lying there like a lifeless body. She seemed like a corpse. I rushed into her arms and asked her about what happened. She sobbed and told me that she was sold at a very low cost to two men. They took her to a private place and then the poor Elizabeth was raped by twenty men over and over again. I told her how sorry I was. Guilt and grief were flickering through my eyes in form of tear drops. I told her about my father and about my friend Albert who helped me in achieving my goal or the goal that was yet to be achieved. I took out the house and placed it on her chest. She had bite marks there. She was severely molested. I asked her for her forgiveness. She smiled. She was barely able to talk. She gestured me to come closer. So, I did. All I could hear was "I love you Elvis" in her melodious voice. I pushed her gently back. She was staring at me. It seemed like my eyes were a dark pit and she was trying to find something inside of them. She looked into the dark pit (my eyes) and found her own image. She said, "In you, I find me. I find us". Those were her last words. I loved her since. I am a bachelor who was once in love with a whore. And that whore was my proud. In this way, the old man's story came to an end. Anna was bursting into tears and Noah felt lamented. The old man said, "My dear, take it. I was not able to get my love, but you do. Every time you will look at it, you will remember me and Lizzy. I want you to pray for me. I want to be with her in the after-life. Take this". Noah interrupted, "But it is special for you. How can we take it?" "So, it is for you, too. It reflects true love and weren't you looking for something that reflects true love?", asked Elvis. Anna said, "Okay sire, but we will be paying for it. How much for it?" "There is no price for affection my child", the old man replied. Noah interrupted, "take this", pulling out his wallet and placing a fifty Euro note on the old man's palm. "I think the weather is fine outside now. Let us leave love before it gets rainy again", Noah said. They then greet the old man and left his store. Elvis wiped his tears, sat in his chair and started counting his money. The servant who was quiet for so long came near and said, "Master, you have a wife, six daughters, three sons, and five grand-children. Why did you lie?" Mrs. Elvis is from a very respectable family, I know. Then why did you lie?" The old man laughed and said, "If a five Euro thing can be sold in fifty, wouldn't you sell it for a greater profit? Sometimes, we have to take what is ours by one way or another." The boy was disgusted by the old man's wickedness, but he was merely a servant so he remained silent and went back to clean the artifacts.

[forerussake]

A choice of instrument: Lan Xichen’s hidden source of power

Screenshots (from ep. 4) are awful, but the first time I watched CQL I never realized just how much of a show of power Lan Xichen is putting on here. Calmly ripping like 10 other cultivators’ spiritual swords from their hands against their will? He is practically telling them “I could take all of you on at the same time and then some, so don’t you dare try anything in my home.” The passive agressive taunt in his words to Wen Chao soon after further supports his claim. This is a clear warning to everyone in the room and it makes me wonder just how powerful Lan Xichen really is. We know he is one of the most powerful cultivators of this generation, but interestingly enough we don’t get to see a lot of it. We get a clue from the reactions of the others in the room that what he did just now is pretty extraordinary. And moreover that his is a show of power they’re not used to seeing from him. Just look at the faces Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng make at eachother and Wei Wuxian’s astonished expression. Now the Yunmeng siblings probably don’t know him that well yet at this point, and might just be surprised at his power in general, but the faces of the other Lan disciples in the back, who have grown up around him and probably know a little better what he can do, tell us that they are not used to Lan Xichen this blatantly flaunting his power. 

And then we get this handy quote (and admiring gaze) from Nie Huaisang, where he refers to the Twin Jades as a unit, but from context it’s clear he is referring specifically to the elder of the two in this instance:

“The Twin Jades of Lan really do deserve their reputation.” The Twin Jades have a reputation for being not just perfect gentlemen, but for being true powerhouses. And it makes me wonder, because clearly everyone else in the room wasn’t expecting Lan Xichen to do what he did. We can infer that even Nie Huaisang, who is the younger brother of Lan Xichen’s closest friend, has never seen him do anything like this. Why is that? Why do both we as the audience and apparently all the other characters in-univerise get to see so little of his true power and abilities?

We get a bit of it in this scene, even more when they’re fighting the Waterborne Abyss, but we never see him let loose the way a lot of other characters get to do. Now this could just be because it’s not in his personality to do so, but I’m not entirely convinced, because the above scene shows that he isn’t above using a little force when he has to. As I mentioned before, in this scene he even goes on to subtly taunt Wen Chao afterwards. As conflict averse as he is, he is perfectly capable of standing his ground (here among his piers it’s easier than later among older sect leaders).

To me, Lan Xichen gives off the vibe of someone who is always holding back. He is constantly reigning himself in. Even when he does use a show of force, it is still calm and collected. This reputation the Twin Jades carry means that everyone knows Lan Xichen is a powerhouse, but I think a part of it too is that no one knows just how powerful he actually is, because he never, ever, lets anyone see all of his cards. 

When he takes out Liebing in this scene the camera cuts to Wen Chao first, as expected, he is after all the main target. But the second reaction we’re shown is Lan Wangji’s:

I like to interpret this expression as one of concern. Lan Wangji is, apart from maybe Lan Qiren, the only person in this room who knows the true extent of his brother’s power. They are after all two sides of the same coin, until Wei Wuxian steps in and takes Lan Xichen’s place. He knows what Lan Xichen can do, he also knows his brother is controlled enough that he won’t go too far, but for a moment he is still concerned. Wangji isn’t just concerned about the situation in general. He specifically looks at his brother this way. What other reason to look at him that way is there than the knowledge of just how much of a destructive force Lan Xichen can be if he wants to?

We as a fandom like to joke a lot that Lan Xichen whips out Liebing to play a tune whenever he feels like the conversation is getting too awkward, but in actuality we don’t see him use his flute that much at all. We see him use it all of five times in the entire show as far as I can remember: in this scene, then in the fight against the Waterborne Abyss, then when they seal the Yin Iron shard in a qiankun pouch, then in his conversation about his parents with Wei Wuxian, and then at Guanyin Temple against Baxia’s spirit. Of these five times, three times he uses it to calm himself or others. Only once does he use the flute in battle, and  even then he appears to be using Liebing to calm the Waterborne Abyss more than in an attempt to destroy it? He doesn’t appear to really use the flute in battle, which is interesting, because Lan Wangji uses his guqin in battle a lot, and we see/know of plenty of other characters who use their instruments in battle. Battle music is very much a thing, and in the first place it appears to be very much a Lan thing. Then why doesn’t Lan Xichen use Liebing in that way more?

It’s not that Liebing isn’t fit to be used as a weapon in battle, it’s not just an instrument of healing. The scene I have been referencing for most of this post shows clearly that in Lan Xichen’s hands Liebing is truly a force to be reckoned with. Imagine him doing what he does in this scene on the battlefield during the Sunshot Campaign. If he were strong enough for it he could disarm a whole army with a few notes and use their own swords against them. Why doesn’t he? What is it about really using his flute in battle, about letting loose and showing his full power, that is just not done?

We see him in compromising situations where using his flute more extensively or at all might’ve helped him. So why doesn’t he?

I think it is for the same reason why Lan Wangji looks at him in concern when he starts playing in this scene, why Nie Huaisang is surprised at his power even though he knows Lan Xichen better than most students there, why he strives to stay composed at all times, why he cultivates (pun intended) this image of tranquility and gentle strength at all times. Maybe it is because he simply isn’t as naturally controlled and composed as his brother. Maybe it is because he wears his heart on his sleeve, because he feels emotions as strongly as Wangji, but has never managed to close himself off the way he’s seen his younger brother do over the years. Maybe the Twin Jades really are two sides of the same coin, alike but different even in this way, because what Lan Wangji naturally lacks in social and communication skills Lan Xichen brings to the table and what Lan Xichen naturally lacks in control Lan Wangji balances out. They complete each other in this way too.

It is, I believe, in the nature of Lan Xichen’s instrument too, which is so much more directly connected to his soul. Lan Wangji can calm his mind and steady his hands and his notes will ring true. I think the Lans favour the guqin so much because it is a very stable instrument. I imagine if you can play it well, showing a calm front and staying controlled is easier because your hands and the strings they touch are the conduit for your energy. With Xichen and his xiao, that isn’t the case. With enough training, controlling your hands is doable even when you’re emotionally compromised. Controlling your breath on the other hand is different, doable perhaps, but even more difficult, because it is like controlling the soul itself, there is no conduit for energy making the music, it is energy that is making the music.

The Lans favour the guqin because it is stable, and tranquil and powerful. In the hands of a skilled musician it is distant, unpersonal, controlled, everything the Lan Clan strives to be. In the hands of a master it is so much more, as Lan Wangji proves. He channels his emotion into the strings and is still controlled, he plays it better than anyone else. He is all controlled power, emotion hidden deep within waiting to be coaxed out by the right hands. So the guqin fits him. Lan Xichen however knowingly chose a different instrument, and I have often wondered why, but now it makes sense. He can play the guqin as well as is expected of him as heir and later leader of the Lan Clan, Jin Guangyao calls him a master at it not just as flattery, but it is simply not his instrument. He chose the xiao. Or it chose him? He chose a less stable, more emotionally affected instrument. He chose the swiftly roiling currents over the deep clear lake; he chose the ever-changing wind over the ever-lasting mountains; he chose emotion tempered by control over control supplemented by emotion. He chose the xiao because it fits him. Because just as surely as Lan Wangji’s personality is reflected in the instrument he plays, so much so that his instrument comes to bear his own name, just so does Lan Xichen’s choice of instrument reflect his personality.

I think the reason we see so little of Lan Xichen unleashing his powers is not because he wants to hold back, but because he has to. Everyone always tells him he looks so much like his father, and it will be ironic when he finally does end up in seclusion like his father, but in reality Lan Xichen is so much more like his mother that some days it hurt his uncle to look at him. And his mother was kind, and intelligent, and caring, but she was also powerful, she was a whirlwind, a summer storm, the roiling rapids in a mountain river, she was everything a Lan is not supposed to be, and he is too, and he can’t be. Because he is the Lan sect heir, then Sect Leader Lan, and he has been conditioned his whole life to be the model disciple. And so he holds back, he restrains himself, shackles himself to the Cloud Recesses’ discipline wall in much the same way Lan Wangji does, telling himself it is control, when it is in fact a prison. 

But nothing can change who he is, who he was born to be, and so he takes up the xiao, perhaps as an act of defiance, perhaps simply as a way to get closer to himself. Lan Qiren doesn’t mind in the end, because he sees how much it helps the elder Jade improve his cultivation, how it helps to centre him in a way the guqin can’t quite seem to do for him. 

Lan Xichen practices control, but he doesn’t live and breathe it in the way his younger brother does. He hides his true powers behind layers upon layers of practiced control, because it makes him into more of a model Lan than he actually is, and it is what is expected of him. He doesn’t use Liebing in battle much because every time he uses his xiao for anything other than soothing and healing, the chaos in his soul jumps out through the cracks in the ice, and he can’t let it, not where anyone can see. 

I like to imagine he does use Liebing in battle during the Sunshot Campaign and we just don’t get to see him do it. During the Sunshot Campaign all brakes are off. When there is a high chance he might not live to see tomorrow’s dawn it doesn’t matter anymore who sees. Lan Wangji goes where the chaos is, Lan Xichen brings the chaos. But afterwards he goes back to hiding that side of him. Not many remember in the turmoil of the years directly after it, and after the Nightless City massacre most people who have ever witnessed that side of him in action are dead anyway. The rest of the world likes to ignore that that side of him exists, because it is truly terrifying to behold. And because half the show is Wei Wuxian’s flashback and Lan Xichen is not that important in it we don’t ever get to see this side of him.

Lan Xichen is one of the most powerful cultivators in the show and we never really get to see it. We could explain this away by saying he either doesn’t get enough screentime for it, or because it would’ve been too much trouble for the CGI department, but what if it is because he simply hides his power. Because he might act and look like the perfect Lan, but he isn’t really. Because his true power doesn’t lie in control supplemented by emotion, like his brother, but in emotion held back by control.

What if, for all Lan Wangji’s deviance from the Lan norm as he grows older, he isn’t actually the most deviant of the Twin Jades. Because Lan Wangji’s defiance is in his acts, but Lan Xichen’s lies in who he is.

Whole his life Lan Xichen works to be the model Lan disciple, then the model Lan Sect Leader, and it works. Everyone knows of his power, but barely anyone knows of its hidden source. He is in many ways an open book, but this is a secret he guards with his life. But no matter how much he keeps his true power to himself, there is evidence of it in everything he does.

The evidence is in his almost obsessive restraint; the evidence is in the reactions of the others around him when he does show a glimpse of his true power, as he does in this scene in episode 4; but the evidence lies first and foremost in something even more present: his choice of instrument.