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ghoul-bonez · 1 year

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~He’s The Best~

(Platonic! Sully Family x Fem! Family Member! Reader)

Summary: After getting out of a toxic relationship you have found love, true love.

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: (REPOSTED because I’m dumb and forgot tags and this flopped) @a-eddie asked He’s No Good part 2? Sooooooo Pt 2 of He’s No Good, hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of past toxic relationship

~He’s No Good (Part 1)~

~Masterlist~

He’s The Best

You were always strong and independent. You were an unbeatable fighter, in spirit and in physical strength. You carried yourself with an air of confidence around you, more so than most people had seen before. Your confidence was understandable to most, you seemed unbreakable, perfect.

You were a skilled hunter, and an even more skilled strategist. One of your favorite past times was helping your father plan attacks on the Sky People, and he would gladly take your help in any way.

Your dad would agree with anyone who accused him of passing on his stubborn genetics into you, but you also got your natural leadership from him.

From your mother you got her strength, in heart and muscle. She also bestowed you the gift of a great connection to the land and a natural awareness of your surroundings.

On the flip side you were wild and chaotic. You caused chaos everywhere you went, even unconsciously. Your confidence wasn’t always a good thing when you were so confident nothing could touch you. You enjoyed causing trouble on purpose, pranking people with Lo’ak and sneaking out at eclipse with your friends. The unknown chaos was worse though because instead of you meaning to cause it, it came as if there was an energy drawing it towards you.

You were untameable to most, but there were certain people who calmed the raging whirlwind of chaos that swirled within you.

One of those people was your younger sister, Kiri.

As you sat next to Kiri you felt calm, focusing your energy into weaving yourself a new top. Nothing needed to be said between the two of you, and you smiled as you looked over to her, watching her fingers move skillfully as she made Tuk a new bracelet.

Green, blue, and purple beads laid out in front of you and Kiri, you using what you needed of them to make your top, and Kiri using the leftovers to make Tuk’s bracelet and other small trinkets.

The beads reminded you of the forest which gave you the inspiration for your top, looking like winding roots of a tree as it draped across your shoulders and laid low against your chest.

It was inspired by the forest that had brought you new love, and your fingers paused in their weaving as you looked around, unconsciously looking for him, “Kiri I’ve met someone new…”

You didn’t look at her, instead still searching, but heard her hum, “I know.”

Shock was written on your face, and your head shot towards her to find her smiling at you, “What? How?”

“Eywa,” was a simple answer, of course she had heard from the Great Mother, “and anyone would be a fool to not notice your glances at Aluk’un.”

You hadn’t taken into account Kiri’s connection with Eywa, but her being able to tell without the Great Mother was still surprising, you thought you were hiding it well, “Do you think anyone else knows?”

Kiri giggled, like it was a stupid question, “Luckily for you our brothers are fools. Tuk approves of him though,” she nudged your side, “and I made her promise to not tell anyone.”

You placed down your top, putting your hands over your face to hide your embarrassment, “I don’t even think I want to know what our parents are thinking… Oh Eywa, dad.”

Kiri just shrugged, but was still smiling, “I guess you’ll have to get past that when you get there.”

Suddenly you felt Kiri stiffen next to you and an uncomfortable silence settled where comfortable conversation had filled your ears. You looked up and a frown settled onto your face, quickly overtaken by anger.

“What do you want?” You asked, making yourself sound as hostile as possible.

“I came to say I’m sorry…” Zepii spoke quietly, calmly.

You weren’t soft spoken or calm though, you were a spitfire, “You’ve tried to say sorry many times since I left your sorry ass. I don’t want to hear it.” You quickly tied off where you were beading your top and placed it aside, “I’m sorry Kiri, I have to go. Will you please take these home for me?” you pointed to your top and the beads laying around.

“Of course, (Y/n).” She gave you a reassuring hug, knowing you were both very uncomfortable, “And have a good time.” She winked at you. Apparently she knew where you were going. Who you were going to see.

Zepii had been attempting to apologize and get you back since the last woman he was trying to court, after you, left him. She had come to you, knowing your past with him, and you had reassured her she had made the right decision. Apparently he had been treating her just as he had been treating you.

You were making your way towards the forest, but as you stormed away from Zepii you saw him a few huts away, heading directly for him. You knew if Zepii found you he wouldn’t mess with him as he could easily outsmart and fight him.

Kiri, and the rest of your family, may help the whirlwind that resides within you subside, but Aluk’un helped in another way.

With your family it was a soft unspoken love that was held amongst you that helped calm you. You knew no matter what they would love you always and forever, and nobody had to say anything. It was simple with them.

With Aluk’un it was outspoken love. He took every chance to tell you how special you were. It was a more complex love with him, both platonic and romantic. He was your best friend, but also your lover. You wished to spend the rest of your life with him, but not in the same way as you did with your family.

Aluk’un was different from Zepii in many ways. He let you have independence, he allowed you to be your unbridled chaotic self. When you would discuss war plans with your father he would be right by your side, pointing out flaws or agreeing when you would put out a plan.

He didn’t try to tame you.

Much like you he was wild and chased the rush of adrenaline.

A rush of adrenaline was something you needed right now, and Aluk’un could tell that as he laid his eyes on you, “Hey, yawne. Do you want to play a game?” He was giving you an outlet for your negative energy, an option for something fun.

You couldn’t help as the hatred that had been on your face melted off as he spoke to you, “I would love to.” You sighed, “What do you have in mind?”

“I am going to chase and you are going to…” he started circling you, “Run!” he shouted before lunging to grab at you, and you dodged pretty easily.

You took off running quickly after, sprinting away at top speed. Aluk’un was close behind you, but was far enough behind that he couldn't grab you. He was hot on your tail though, easily keeping up.

You dodged and weaved through trees, and once you couldn’t hear his footsteps behind you anymore you came to a stop, catching your breath. You knew he was somewhere near, you knew he was watching you.

You should feel scared, unnerved, being hunted like this. You felt like prey being watched by a predator, like you should still be running. You knew you should be running, but in some ways you wanted to be caught, you knew Aluk’un wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, and your capture would become a welcome embrace from him.

You zoned into your surroundings, your ears twitching in every direction that any slight noise came from, and your tail swished behind you as you focused on trying to locate Aluk’un.

Then you heard footsteps again, behind you this time, but before you could take off again strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around.

You laughed loudly, freely, “You win, I guess.”

Aluk’un hummed, “Mhm,” then he put you down and you turned to him. He had his hands behind his back, no doubt holding something, “I have something for you.”

You weren’t surprised, he gave you things all the time, but felt yourself melting at his sweet gesture. Your brain seemed to be melting whenever you were around him, but you managed to mutter out, “What is it?”

He held it out to you, a beautiful necklace. It was a choker, a thick band of leather with an intricate carved piece of wood centered in the middle. It was more beautiful than anything you had seen before, and you could feel love oozing from it.

Aluk’un smiled sheepishly, “I noticed you still wear the necklace Zepii made you, so I thought I would make you one myself.”

You couldn’t help it as you smiled wider, “It’s beautiful! Thank you.” you paused momentarily, thinking, would it be too intimate to ask him to put it on you? You decided it wasn’t, “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course, yawne.” He smiled, holding it out.

You turned around and he placed it around your neck, tying it carefully to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but laid where it was supposed to. You placed your hand over it, tracing your fingers over the wood pattern, feeling how smooth he had gotten it.

“Thank you, again.” You looked anywhere from him, feeling overwhelmed by the love. It was starting to get dark outside now, “We should be getting home, it's getting dark…” you suggested.

He frowned, and you felt your heart squeeze, but he spoke with boldness, “No, please stay with me. Let’s stargaze.”

You sighed, you would always say yes to him, you could never say no, “Okay.”

So you laid down, Aluk’un by your side. He scooted closer to you, and you took that as an invitation to touch him, laying your head on his chest, looking up to the sky. Now it was dark, the calmness of night time blanketed over you and the land around you.

Everyone knew you were an alien, because your father was one, but Aluk’un didn’t seem to care, and so you shared, “My dad came from a star. That one.” You pointed to where Earth sat in the sky.

You felt Aluk’un’s chest rumble as he hummed, “I know lots about the stars, but nothing about that one.”

You chuckled, “Good, it’s where the Sky People are from.”

He didn’t speak more, instead simply existing with you. You looked up, looking at him and truly seeing him for the first time.

His aysnatanhì shone as brightly as the ones in the sky, and you wondered if you shined that bright. You felt that bright, like a light was bursting from within you. You felt warm and happy. You felt more peaceful than ever before, like the chaos inside you was subsiding, although only for a short amount of time.

He’s the best. Aluk’un was the best. Instead of dimming your light he glowed right by you, fed your fire and fanned your flame. He allowed you to shine and basked in the light you gave off.

He allowed you the freedom you needed and when you spread your wings and took off he didn’t hold you back. He didn’t try to tame you, domesticate you into something you weren’t.

Something you weren’t was an obedient follower, what you had become with Zepii. You had allowed him to manipulate you and push you around, forcing you to have no independence.

Something you were was free, even with the love of Aluk’un he let you be free. He allowed you to soar above the clouds like an ikran. Up you flew, towards bigger and better things, but when you were getting too close to the sun he would be there to catch you as you fell.

He loved you, truly loved you.

Word Bank:

Yawne (Darling)

Aysnatanhì (Constellation, Na’vi’s Bioluminescent Freckles)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #fanfic #fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow #atwow fanfiction #atwow fics #jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #platonic sullys x reader #platonic jake sully #neytiri x reader #loak x sister!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader #tuk x sister!reader

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hippiegoth97 · 1 month

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Eddie Munson One-Shots Master List

Collage by me :)

Banner by @cafekitsune

Current Posts

Be Kind, Rewind (Female Reader)

Any Way You Want It (Female Reader)

Cum On Feel the Noize (Female Reader)

Dr. Feelgood (Female Reader)

Last Christmas (Female Reader) Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Girl On Film (Female Reader)

She-Bop (Female Reader)

Smalltown Boy (Male Reader)

Girls, Girls, Girls (Female Reader, M/F/F Threesome)

Relax (Male Reader)

Divider by @strangergraphics

Upcoming Posts

Love Bites (Female Reader)

Sweet Dreams are Made of This (Female Reader)

Heat of the Moment (Female Reader)

Master of Puppets (Female Reader)

You Couldn't Ignore Me if You Tried (Female Reader)

Wild and Untamed Things (Steddie x Female Reader) Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

Roam Pt.1 (Female Reader)

Roam Pt.2 (re-upload) (Female Reader)

Where is My Mind? (Female Reader)

I Want to Know What Love Is (Female Reader)

Ballcrusher (Female Reader)

Thriller (Female Reader)

Time of The Season (Female Reader)

The Killing Moon (Female Reader)

Rainbow in the Dark (Male Reader)

Object of My Desire (Female Reader)

I Melt With You (Female Reader)

I Wanna Be Your Lover (Female Reader)

Beautiful Boy, Darling Boy (Trans FTM Reader)

Renegade (Female Reader)

Future Request Prompts

These are some leftover ideas from my wattpad days, and ones I may write someday. Feel free to send a request in my inbox, and I'll do my best to finish it in a decent timeframe. I'll do any preferences you like, just follow my request rules that can be found here. I'll do any gender, pairing, etc., though obviously I have some preferences of my own in the descriptions. Also, please feel free to use these ideas for yourself, there's plenty to go around. If you do, don't forget to tag me so I can read your amazing work!

•Graduation Day/Party: You and Eddie graduate together in '86, and have some fun at a graduation party hosted at your house. (I envisioned cheerleader!reader for this, but it's up to you. And preferably the party would be at their house, and they're rich or something.)

•Sub!Reader/Dom!Eddie: Eddie tortures you with toys and edging, very kinky BDSM type stuff.

•Criminal!Reader: You're a runaway dropout who is honestly up to no good. Eddie encounters you when you start cutting in on his business, and you get into all sorts of illegal hijinks together.

•Punk!Dom!Steve Threesome: You and Eddie go to a rock show together, and you happen upon none other than former King Steve Harrington! He's dressed to the nines in punk attire, dyed/buzzed hair, piercings, tattoos, DIY clothes. You and Eddie are very taken with him, and bring him home for a good time (preferably this would be an MLM story, I haven't written queer content as much as I'd like.).

•Vamp!Eddie: Eddie nearly dies in the upside-down, but the bat bites turn him into a vampire. You hide him in your house, feed him, things get bitey, yada yada. (I know it's been done to death, but not by me. Well, not like this, anyway.)

•Truth or Dare: You and the grown teens of the Main Party have a gathering at your house. There's drinking, smoking, teasing games, the like. Everything is going great, until Eddie suggests you play 'truth or dare'. He knows you've been crushing on him for months, and he knows exactly what to do to get you to fess up.

•Canon (but also not) Steddie Threesome: You stay at Steve's with Eddie when you lose your home in the earthquake. You can overhear them having sex at night, which excites you. You try to ignore it, give them their privacy, until you hear the boys talking in bed about how much they want you, what they'd do to you. Eventually, the cat comes crashing out of the bag when you let it slip that you've been hearing them. This was all part of their elaborate plan, of course, much to your delight. (Again, preferably MLM on this one.)

•Wet Dreams: Eddie has a wet dream about you. Any dream you like.

•High School Reunion: It's 2006, the 20-year reunion for Hawkins High Class of '86. Eddie is a megastar, and you haven't even bothered to leave town. You hooked up once back in the day, and you always regretted letting him leave for LA to kickstart his career. Well, without you tagging along, at least. He shows up, much to your surprise, and you swear it's like he never even left.

•Hostile Uterus: You're in an all-girl rock band (named Hostile Uterus, if you couldn't tell), and Eddie sees you perform in a local festival-type event. He falls head over heels almost instantly when he watches you, needing to get to know you. You don't let him in so easily, and you're definitely not one to relinquish control. (Sub!Eddie and Bitchy!Dom!Reader preferred for this, but I'd take suggestions.)

•Oh, Eddie...You're So Fine: You work at a convenience store, which Eddie frequents on a regular basis. You often fantasize about him, your mind traveling to very nasty places while on the clock. One day, Eddie asks you out on a date, making all your wishes come true.

•Tattoos: You get a brand new/your first tattoo and are excited to show it to Eddie. He loves it, and goes crazy on you. (There's so many tattoo possibilities, so I'm leaving that open.)

•Brat!Reader and Dom!Eddie: Eddie is busy working on a new campaign, but you want his attention NOW. You start knocking things over, throwing a little bit of a fit, huffing and puffing. Eddie tries to ignore you, and the teasing you employ, and finish his work. He warns you many times to cut it out, but you don't listen. So, you earn yourself a very big punishment.

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @yourdailymemedelivery @spacedoutdaydreamer

#fanfiction #smut #blurbs #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #hawkins #1980s #hippiegoth97 #oneshots

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angel-of-the-moons · 2 months

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I’d love to request a sibling/roommates fic with Pavi Hobie and the reader if it’s not too much trouble! All 3 of them are so sibling coded. We all decide “fuck it the rent’s cheaper if it’s three of us LET’S BE ROOMMATES”. Some people think ‘oh that apartment’s gonna be trashed’, nope. We all have our respective chores and have a schedule on who takes the trash out. We love spending time at bedtime doing our own skincare routines and brushing our teeth together (callout for people that say that Hobie doesn’t bathe, that man is one of the CLEANEST fuckers out there). Definitely doesn’t stop the occasional argument of “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PIZZA?!” “WHO ATE MY LEFTOVER PALAK PANEER?!” “WHO ATE MY FUCKING LAST SCOTCH EGG?!”

Bugs In A Rug!

Platonic! Hobie Brown x Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

TW/CW: None!

A/N: Sweetheart I am so sorry this has been backed up for so long, I plan on eating through some of my asks (again) So I can open them up. The ones I don't vibe with might get yeeted (I love you all as well as every request that comes in, but some stuff my brain just can't write! 😭)

🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷🎸🪷

People said the three of you would make poor roommates. That your apartment would be chaotic, messy, and loud just because you were all young and close in age, and rowdy when the three of you goofed off.

Oh, they were wrong in their assumptions. Many looked at you and Pavitr and automatically suggested Hobie would make a mess of your apartment. Oh, no. They were so wrong.

You and Pavitr tended to be forgetful, sometimes leaving little messes in your wake that Hobie would either clean up himself, or flick a dish rag at the both of you until the mess was done with.

Oh, and the food situation. You all shared grocery funds; a sound suggestion that worked out well for your wallets. However... Then came the inevitable "who ate my snack?!" debacle. Pavitr in particular was very protective of his masala cashews--to the point he would actively count each little cashew and write the number on the bag.

A tad excessive, but his determination ratted you out as his "cashew thief".

Almost like how you found out it was Hobie stealing your frozen dinners, and how it was Pavitr stealing some of his jaffa cakes.

Right now, however was a simple, casual day. Hobie had spent the past two hours playing his guitar in his room (soundproofed, thankfully) and you and Pavitr were in your usual hamster pile on the couch, waiting for Hobie to join the two of you for your little communal movie night.

"Hooobieeeeee!" Pavitr said loudly, laying backwards over your side as you scrolled through your phone. "C'moooooooon! We're getting booooooored!"

"Oi, gimme a minute, you twerp!" Hobie called out from his room.

You snicker and wiggle around, purposefully messing with Pavitr's balance as he was draped across you like a lazy cat.

"Hey! Quit it! You're the pillow!" Pavitr laughed, rolling over to pinch your cheeks from behind.

"Nah, you're jush a heavy brat!" You giggle, finally turning your phone screen off as you roll over to try and start to wrestle with him.

Hobie comes out right as you have Pavitr's wrist held in your mouth, and he had your leg in an arm-lock.

Hobie, despite his usual punk aesthetic, was wearing a soft knit jumper that seemed a tad too long--even for his long, lanky frame--some loose sweat pants, and a pink and purple silk bonnet that contained his usually untamed mass of wicks.

He put his hands on his hips and frowned at you two. "Now who's actin' like a couple a' brats? Oh, wait, nevermind, it's always you."

"Hey! You're not funny!" You say, you and Pavitr releasing each other as you begin to reassemble your pile of pillows, blankets, and cushions.

"Oh, please, I'm hilarious." Hobie smirked, flipping you the bird (which you responded with both your middle fingers in return) as he walked into the kitchenette to prep the popcorn and pour out the sweet snacks for your movie binge.

Pavitr laid on his pelly and kicked his feet as he watched Hobie get ready. "Aww! You look so cute today!"

"Do not call me that!" Hobie warned, wagging a finger at him over his shoulder.

"But you do!" You giggle, waggling your eyebrows.

Hobie smacks the bag of popcorn into the microwave and glares at the two of you. "Hey, you two like to keep the damn place as cold as an ice box! I have to dress all warm just to live, you damn penguins!"

"Lizard." You and Pavitr both say without missing a beat. And immediately after you and Pavitr high-five and joke about one owing a pop to the other. Hobie just scoffed loudly and took the bag of popcorn from the microwave, shaking the bag up a bit so the butter spreads, and grabs the bottle of "movie theater butter" the three of you were so fond of.

You and Pavitr turn to the TV and you snatch up the remote, scrolling through films to watch.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Pavitr asked innocoently.

"There's this one movie--the dude in it sounds just like Miguel, I swear!" You say, signing in to your streaming profile to find said movie.

"Ugh," Hobie groans, plopping down onto the ground next to you and your tanned, golden-retriever of a friend. "If he acts like him, I just know the movie is gonna suck."

"No, no, no!" You refute. "He's actually funny and like, he's a pilot or something."

"Fine, fine." He sighed with a lazy smirk, holding the popcorn bucket out to Pavitr for him to grab a handful of the crunchy, popped treat. You meanwhile snagged one of the lemon drop creme cookies he'd set down in between all of you as the movie's opening credits begin to crawl.

It was your first time ever watching this "Star Wars" stuff.

#🌙 answered #hobie brown #pavitr prabhakar #Pavitr Prabhakar x you #Hobie Brown x You #Hobie x Pavitr x You #platonic!reader #roommates au

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canary3d-obsessed · 1 year

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 37 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard) (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Never Trust a Big Butt and Smile (Poison)

Wei Wuxian has gathered all the juniors together in the paper-offerings shop run by the corpse lady, and asks for volunteers to help him in the kitchen.

Teacher's pet Sizhui jumps forward, abandoning Jingyi and leaving the field clear for Ouyang Zizhen to make his move.

He tells the other kids to stay put, but Jin Ling follows along to go make a nuisance of himself.

DLWJLF (Dad Lan Wangji would Like to Fuck)

Now we get to see Wei Wuxian in a new dad mode; not entertaining and protecting young A-Yuan, but guiding teenager Jin Ling to be less of a prat. On one level he is talking to him forcefully and generally not having patience for his crap, but on another level he is carefully teaching him.

Wei Wuxian explains that glutinous rice (aka sticky rice, aka sweet rice) can cure corpse poisoning, and proceeds to cook it up with every kind of pepper he can find in the kitchen, in a sequence that has got to be an intentional parody (full gifset here) of the lovingly-filmed food porn that shows up in so many Asian dramas (for example).

(More behind the cut!)

While the rice is cooking, Jin Ling finally explains what brought them here; they all came following a trail of hideously murdered "cats." The show avoids having to put an explanatory note on the screen saying "this is a digital cat and no actual cats were harmed" by showing us this ridiculously bad stuffed toy cat.

On this occasion I genuinely appreciate the department of dubious practical effects, since I don't really want to see a realistic dead cat. But wow, this is super bad. It doesn’t even have paws, just weird stubby peg feet. It is probably made from leftover bits of whatever they used to make Wen Chao’s dog. Also, the MEOW noise happens right when Jin Ling opens the door, when the cat is clearly already dead. Maybe the cat's ghost is doing the meowing.

During Jin Ling's flashback, we get to see Fairy in action. Fairy is a special, extra smart, spiritually attuned dog.

His powers include barking at the door when someone stands directly outside the door stringing up a dead cat from the rafters. I feel like maybe Fairy needs to aim a little higher in life.

Wei Wuxian thinks about the cat-murdering, and reflects that it's horrifying, but that whoever did it "didn't actually cause any harm."

Ghosts of a whole lot of deceased cats: easy for you to say, asshole

I'm still a little unclear on who actually did the cat murders. I think it was Xue Yang? since he wanted to lure the Yiling Laozu to Yi City, and couldn't rely on the qiankun bag of plot convenience to get him there. Possibly he also wanted to kill and eat the juniors, like the clown in IT. I've seen people saying it was Nie Huaisang, but I don't think he had a motive to get the juniors to go there, given that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were already headed that way because of the spirit thingy.

When the rice is ready Wei Wuxian sends the kids to deliver it to their poisoned buddies. Wei Wuxian pauses to give Jin Ling a little more uncleing.

Jingyi tries the rice, which is absolutely loaded with spice, and asks if Wei Wuxian is trying to poison them some more.

Wei Wuxian has the audacity to think "could it be that I accidentally spilled pepper powder in there?" Bitch, we just watched you dump a whole bowl of red pepper flakes AND a bowl of black pepper AND several whole-ass red chilies in there. Your memory isn't that bad.

Sizhui tries it and does a nice spit-take; then he says that the taste is familiar. I think this is the first instance of him remembering something from his time with Wei Wuxian, and I love that the trigger for his eventual cascade of recovered memory is Wei Wuxian's terrible cooking.

Wei Wuxian makes them eat it anyway, and then laughs to himself about it.

Young Miss Jump-Scare

Wei Wuxian hears A-Qing's stick in the lane outside, and goes to a hole in the wall to look at her. Once he's had a look he says "wow! she's amazing!" to lure the kids into looking.

Jin Ling goes to look and A-Qing obligingly sticks her face right into the camera for a jump scare.

Camera Operator: Damn, warn a guy, will you?

Next Jin Ling lures Sizhui to look, and A-Qing provides another jump scare, this time drooling blood out of her mouth. Then she goes back to walking in circles in the street while the boys all check her out, mostly platonically, except for Ouyang Zizhen, who is in love with literally everybody so can’t do platonic.

Wei Wuxian, fully in Wei-Laoshi mode at this point, tells the kids that they should look at A-Qing precisely because they are scared; as cultivators, they need to look past their fear and be able to identify things correctly.

Sizhui, Jin Ling, and Ouyang Zizhen all take turns looking and all make different observations about her, and receive feedback from Wei Wuxian about the quality of their observations.

Itty-bitty Lan Sizhui, hilariously, says that she’s only as tall as his chest. According to wiki.d-addicts, he is a whopping 7 centimeters taller than she is in real life. He has doomed himself to having to stand on a box any time he is next to her. Which, you know, he mostly won't be, because of all the death.

Conveniently, the window has a whole bunch of strategically-placed rips in it, so several of them can look out at the same time, like the Joke Wall on Rowan & Martin's Laugh-in. No I am not that old, but the reruns were inescapable when I was a child.

Do these knuckleheads think they are hiding? Very subtle, guys.

A-Qing wanders around and bleeds for a bit, but then she hears someone coming and skedaddles. The someone who arrives is Xiao Xingchen, wearing a ribbon/bandage over his eyes, no guan, and dark robes.

Wei Wuxian recognizes him anyway, because Xiao Xingchen is famously pretty no matter how he's styled. Also he has his sword and waves it around conspicuously.

Wei Wuxian immediately decides to rescue him, over the objections of Jin Ling, but has to move quickly to avoid being poisoned by the AfterEffects volumetric fog that covers the street.

He also has to do a hella cool spell, with a mix of light-talisman drawing and poetry reciting, which impresses all of the youngsters.

For some reason it also causes a bunch of mild squib explosions on the outside of the wall. He comes back in, super-quick, with Xiao Xingchen clutched against his side, warning the kids not to come near because "even skin-to-skin contact will poison you."

Dude, we weren't planning on getting naked with your uncle, chill out.

He sets him down and whispers to him, calling him Xiao Shi Shu,小师叔 which is how he would address his father's martial younger brother, not his mother's, according to my deep Google-translated knowledge of Chinese forms of address. I'm going to go ahead and assume that Wei Wuxian knows the subtleties of this sort of thing better than I do.

ANYhoo, Wei Wuxian lets Xiao Xingchen know who he is, without actually saying his name, since some of these kids might have good hearing. He tells Sizhui to get a bowl of congee. Jin Ling objects to helping XXC, because he might be a bad guy, and Jingyi vigorously defends him, saying that he was being attacked by corpses, so is definitely a good guy. That...is not how zombie attacks work, but ok. He also cites Lan rules about helping the dying, which is a rare instance of Jingyi giving a fuck about the rules.

After bringing the congee, Sizhui looks at Xiao Xingchen's sword and immediately recognizes it as Shuanghua, announcing it to the other juniors, who come racing over to look.

The kids instantly figure out that the guy is Xiao Xingchen. They don't recognize him, mind you, just his sword. Sword fans, amirite? All of these kids are active members of the spiritual-sword fandom and can recognize swords they've never seen, but only heard about on Tumblr.

Zombie Stroll

A bunch of zombies start walking down the street at this point in a thoroughly un-menacing fashion, including one disturbingly hot zombie who looks into the window.

This is to prepare us for the arrival of the #1 Hot Zombie, Song Lan.

Before that, though, Wei Wuxian is going to do another spell to lock the door, so he slices his fingers open *before* asking the kids if they have any talisman paper.

This is like when I start cooking the green onions for my protein-obsessed teenage son's omelet that I make every goddamn morning in a bid to always do the exact opposite of my own mother's shitty parenting before I check to see if I have any eggs. Crack the eggs first, Wei Wuxian.

All of the kids offer up their blood, which he doesn't need, but don't have any blank talisman paper. Why does he need paper when he drew the other spell in the middle of the air? Never mind, never mind.

He is unfairly annoyed at this, considering that he didn't bring any paper either. He overwrites an Already-Been-Chewed one that Jin Ling produces and uses it to seal the door, which totally astonishes all of the junior cultivators, like they haven't seen magic before.

Immediately after he seals the door, Song Lan drops in through a hole in the ceiling, that Wei Wuxian really should have thought about when sealing the room up.

Song Lan strikes a sexy pose--oh, who am I kidding, all of his poses are sexy--and stands there being admired for a bit, before half-heartedly swinging a sword toward Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian responds by verrrry sloooowly booting up his flute and playing something, while all of the kids lunge toward Song Lan at the same time, and all get deflected and knocked down.

The flute playing does seem to stop Song Lan from actually killing anyone, and they are able to tie him up with their magic shibari rope.

A note about how Wei Wuxian's powers appear to work, for those who find his abilities confusing. As I understand it, any skilled cultivator can make use of ambient energy from the world around them. This allows the use of talismans without needing a golden core. With a golden core, a person can store qi in their body instead of relying on ambient energy.

Wei Wuxian, as the inventor of Demonic cultivation Xue Chonghai? We don’t know him. is able to pull on ambient *resentful* energy from the dead folks around him and use it to do stuff. But he can't store it in his body very well, which is why he creates the Yin Tiger Seal. It's already pre-loaded with Yin energy and he dumps more into it to get it out of his own body. At least, he stops farting big clouds of resentment smoke after he refines the tiger seal.

Episode 21: That’s-a spicy meatball

So, Wei Wuxian in Yi City doesn't have the yin tiger seal to draw on, but the place is chock full of ambient yin energy for him to use. Also the tiger seal 2.0 is in the room with him right now, although he's not aware of that. Is it weird that he can’t sense that his supposed uncle is carrying a giant chunk of yin metal? Never mind, never mind.

When Wei Wuxian sees that Song Lan is wearing the same black contact lenses that Wen Ning had before --well, probably not the same exact ones, the budget wasn't THAT low--he remembers about the nails in Wen Nings head, and pulls a similar nail out of Song Lan's head.

Unfortunately he only remembered one of the two nails he extracted from Wen Ning, because he doesn't check Song Lan for a second nail, and Song Lan's contact lenses remain stubbornly in place.

Soundtrack: 1.Bel Biv Devoe, Poison 2. Coolio, Fantastic Journey

#the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed gifs #canary3d-original #no cats were harmed

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steviewashere · 6 months

Text

I Feel Everything, All Too Much, And I Need a Hand Tonight

(also on ao3)

CW: Panic Attack(s), Unspecified Eating Disorder (not a main topic, but it's implied several times), References to Depression (not a main topic, but it's implied several times, The Word Queer is Used (not as a slur, but I never know who I'll upset)

wc: 5,130

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Tags: Post Vecna, Post Season 4, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Has Panic Attacks, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Protective Eddie Munson, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Minor Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use (Marijuana)

---------------------- It's a late Saturday in July of 1986. The world isn't ending. Family Video is still open and as boring as ever. Every trailer at Forest Hills still creaks when the wind blows and when the sun is bright and burning. Eddie Munson is no longer a wanted man, still hated, but no longer faced with looming threat. Steve Harrington is still weird and panicked, but for a new, hesitant reason.

The world isn't ending and they can be young adults discovering the way of life after high school.

Since Chrissy Cunningham's death, Eddie has sworn to never sell drugs again. No more eyes popped from sockets, bones broken in three different places, jaws dropped in silent screams. The apparition of her young cheerleader body still floats in his living room, still twitches at the dark corners, still calls out for sanctuary. Eddie can't look at his lunchbox the same way, can't visit the forest the same way, and he most definitely cannot make deals the way he did. So, with all this leftover garbage, he is left with two options: use it or throw it away.

He doesn't want to risk somebody going through his trash can in search for a sweet ounce of cocaine or the K that Chrissy had been after. So he hides the hard stuff away. But the marijuana? That good green leaf? His own can of Popeye spinach? That's for him. For him and his new friends and their plethora of blood soaked nightmares and skin crawling screams.

It's a late Saturday afternoon in July of 1986 and Eddie finds himself laid out on the grass next to his trailer. A joint fizzled out into an ashtray on his left. Beside him, to his right, is Steve Harrington.

Steve's body is warm, but not sweltering the way the humid air is. It's stretched and toned, slightly more narrow than during their run-ins with the Upside Down—his shorts and wife-beater give him away. His body lays tense and rigid. tight between his shoulder blades and knees flushed inwards. The sweat shining on his face seems to barely faze him, not once is it wiped away or complained about or pushed into the wilting hair at his hairline. All of his limbs are pulled so hard that the muscles in his biceps and calves flex. His hands lay across his stomach. Fingers twisted and white knuckled and so close to breaking. Ankles crossed. Bare feet digging into the soil, toes flexing and popping all too audibly. His hair is greasy and knotted. Head picked and prodded. If Eddie were to drag his hand across Steve's scalp, he's sure he'd feel scabs and tangles of hair like the ends of friendship bracelet threads; tied up so that the beads don't go clattering to the floor. He's sure that if his fingers were to get caught and he tried to pry himself free, he'd hurt Steve. But at the same time, he's not even sure Steve would tell him that it was painful, he'd grunt maybe, but otherwise, he'd lay with his face still staring at the clouds, eyes glazed with a wet sheen, skin pale and gaunt. Eddie thinks he looks sickly. Looks distant. Seems to be caving into whatever black hole still breathes untamed in his chest; where his parents once stood, where Nancy said she loved him, where he felt like the world was easy to grasp and maneuver.

Eddie doesn't ask what's wrong. There's so many reasons that he could guess. Steve probably stands in each one. So he doesn't ask. Doesn't bother, but he scoots closer and rubs a hand over Steve's left arm. He wants to trace his fingers over to the mangled hands, force them to lay palm down and divorced. But he won't push his luck. Doesn't want to scare him away.

As soon as his palm makes contact with the tense skin, Steve sighs and his puppet strings are cut. Every muscle loosens. His eyes flutter close and tears slip down his temples, mixing with the sweat that has beaded there.

Steve tires to breathe through his nose and let it shiver from his mouth, but that only succeeds in making a sob cough from his chest. It's a release sort of thing, that much Eddie can tell. The pulsating mess that has been twisting and slithering and accumulating in Steve's aching lungs has melted like gum in stomach acid.

Eddie's palm squeezes where it soothes. He doesn't look at Steve. He whispers, "I've got you, Stevie. I've got you."

He doesn't know what started this. He isn't sure where Steve has been hiding. How, though he's been active within their friend circle, he's seemingly slipped through the cracks. Sliding across the halls of his empty home, the carpet in Family Video, his leather driver's seat as a timid, confused, shattered constellation of all the deceased residents of Hawkins, Indiana. Every teenage girl and boy that didn't get to go home from the community swimming pool, all the kids that bled to death by Henry Creel, and later the teens that snapped like pencils because of Vecna, Barbara Holland and her shotgunned beer scar, Billy Hargrove even if he was a terrifying bastard, Benny and his folk, Max Mayfield for a moment in time, Hopper in the breath of it all, Will Byers even if his was fabricated, and that fellow Alexi who seems to be Murray's own haunting shadow. To be this miserable for so long, hidden behind the smiles of people who had to rely on an older brother figure, on an old boyfriend, a platonic soulmate; that has to be exhausting, petrifying, depressing.

But, then again, Eddie isn't sure what is coursing through Steve's veins right now. Isn't aware of whatever turmoil he's glued in. Even if it presses against all the Upside Down trauma. Those nightmares are taking a back burner. This breakdown, it seems different.

Steve only had two hits from the joint before he decided it was enough. This is different. This is broken.

His breath stutters and wheezes. There's saliva pooling in his mouth. Tears pouring and sizzling and dribbling and creating lakes in his ears. Sounds claw through his throat, travel like bile to his mouth, and gargle against all the moistness behind his teeth. Everything inside Steve is bleeding into the air and evaporating, pouring back down across his face like hail, and starting the process over again.

Misery, Eddie notes. This is him dissolving. My best friend is deteriorating across the dirt and all I can do is promise something that can't always be true.

This is Steve Harrington after the Upside Down.

This is how he shatters.

How many times does this happen, Eddie wonders. Not often enough.

"Please don't go," Steve splutters and whines. All his energy is focused on crying and drowning. He doesn't even pull away. Doesn't even try to push at Eddie's hand. "Please stop, I can't..." he garbles.

He doesn't want to, but Eddie lets go. Let's his hand drop into the distance between them. Lets his ears open wide to Steve's heart that he carries conveniently around his neck. Lets his best friend choke himself to near death.

"I can't," Steve hiccups. "Need t' g' h'me," he slurs. Then, he shoots frantically upwards. Spine straightened. Fingers popping. Breath halting. He shifts to his knees and stands to his full height.

He gets one foot in front before being pulled to a stop.

"No," Eddie states firmly. "You aren't driving home like this. I'm taking you inside and you can rest on my couch. Don't have to say anything, but I'm not letting you get away and hide when you're like this." He doesn't mean to sound so harsh, but god is he worried.

Steve stands with his back to Eddie. He doesn't move. Doesn't say anything. His breath leaves him in hard pants. Over and over and over again.

"Please, Steve. Just come inside. I'll get you water or some beer, whatever. I need you to come inside," Eddie quietly pleads. "I'm scared you're going to do something or you'll disappear, alright? I've never seen you like this and it's been building. I'm scared for you," he whispers.

After Steve doesn't say anything again, Eddie lets go of his wrist. But, Steve doesn't leave. No, instead he continues to stand with his bare feet in the soil, breathing like he's about to throw up.

"Okay," he eventually whispers.

Eddie guides him inside to the couch. Steve plops down like a cement block. He pointedly doesn't move to sit closer to Eddie. He continues to stare straight ahead, like the wall of mugs is growing legs and aiming to tackle him to the floor.

The near silence is deafening. Wayne's alarm clock ticks in the corner. The trees rustle behind the trailer. A siren sounds near the far end of the street. Birds are quiet, they've already fallen asleep. There's no music. No snuffles coming from where Wayne's cot would usually be set up.

There's nothing in the face of everything that is going wrong with Steve Harrington. Eddie doesn't know what to do. Should I turn on the TV? Should I ask Max for one of her Kate Bush tapes? Should I bring my acoustic to the living room?

He chooses instead to sit patiently on the couch. If Steve wants to talk, he will.

Eddie glances over to Steve. To the left side of his face. It's blank. Creased around his mouth and between his eyebrows, but otherwise, it's lacking any sort of expression. He gets up and drifts to the kitchen cabinets. Rustles around for a tall glass, chucks some ice cubes from the freezer, and fills it with tap water. He brings it back to the living room and sets it down on the coffee table.

"Water," Eddie whispers. "Let me know if you want any snacks. I can get you anything." Steve just hums.

His figure still sits on the couch.

A porcelain doll forced into a small dining chair, waiting for a steaming cup of hot tea, or for their owner to wipe at their mouth. Neither comes. So they just sit.

Hauntingly, Steve does the same.

Eddie sighs and sits back down. He makes his eyes roam the shelves and racks of mugs. Reads several of them. Notes every crack and chip. Surmises that at some point, Wayne's diner mugs will merely just be red because the logos are so scuffed. He counts how many have images of fish. Which ones he's dropped and had to apologize fervently over. Imagines the mugs that would only taste like superglue. Hopes that his Garfield mug remains intact for the rest of his life.

He eventually gets bored and gazes at the hats instead. Ranks them from most to least comfortable. Counts all the sports related ones. Thinks back to the hats that Wayne would stuff over his curls if the rain was acting up and his raincoat just wouldn't do. Realizes that many of them are now too small for his own head. Wishes minutely that he could go back to being a little kid that Wayne constantly bought hats for on late night roadtrips. Many are from those same diners with red mugs. A handful are from thrift stores. Several have to do with fishing trips that young Eddie had been forced to sit in on and then be ushered home from because he would cry about the hook hurting the fish's mouth.

After another few minutes, Steve finally leans forward and takes a tiny sip from his water. He doesn't place it back down on the coffee table. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the glass and squeezes. Like he's trying to absorb the cold into his soul.

"Eds?" Steve timidly calls. Eddie turns around to look at him. His eyes are downcast, vividly watching the ice cubes dance in the glass, letting the condensation drip over the tips of his fingers. His hair is limp and falling in front of his face. His shoulders are tight and tense again.

Eddie cautiously scoots closer. When Steve inhales sharply, he stops moving. "Yeah? What's going on, Stevie?" he asks.

He shifts nervously. Eddie watches him take a tentative sip and then look away towards the kitchen.

"I need to ask you something," Steve starts. "And I also need you to not take it the wrong way, okay?"

The air in the room gets sticky, like Steve's skin when they were laying outside. Eddie clears his throat and nods. Then he states, "Whatever you need."

"Right," he hears Steve murmur. His thumbs trace the condensation droplets, they tap at the glass' rim, run up and down the sides, bump across the ridges of the rippling design. "I noticed...stuff in your room. And I was curious about them. There was one of those little magazines by your bedside. About queer people. And I just wanted to know, if you're comfortable answering, if...if you're queer?" he whispers the last word like saying it any louder would put a warrant out for his arrest.

Eddie is taken aback by how up front Steve is being about such a topic. Right to the point, he muses. But he takes in his form again. The timid voice. The hard strain of his fingers on the glass. All the tense muscles in his legs and back. How he seems to be falling apart between each breath he takes. And of course, the breakdown outside. Something finally slaps Eddie across the face. It's not the Upside Down. This is different, he concludes.

He clears his throat again. And very slowly, carefully says, "Yeah, Steve. I am." He doesn't reach out or say anything else that's clarifying. Just lets it sit in the open. Lets it float like the smoke from a joint.

Then, when the quiet seems all too large, follows with, "I like men."

Steve nods, but doesn't turn back around. His breath wheezes again and his eyes flutter closed once more. The glass shakes between his hands. Eddie places his palm against his wrist.

"Steve," he whispers. He also takes the glass from his grip and places it back on the coffee table. "Is this the thing that's been bugging you?" Steve shakes his head back and forth like a dog drying itself after a bath. He doesn't stop moving his head. "What's going on then? You can talk to me."

"I need you," he gasps. "I need you to say The Word."

"Gay?" Eddie questions. Steve hums affirmatively. "Okay," he breathes deeply in and exhales, "I'm gay."

Another round of sobs leave Steve's curdled mouth. Each one wetter than the last. More jarring and sharp and dangerous. He coughs and stutters and wheezes and shivers. He squeezes his fingers over his knees, digs his nails into open skin, bites down on his now noticeably cracked lips. Eddie keeps his palm firmly placed over his wrist.

"I think I'm like you," Steve chokes out. He continues to harshly cry. He's gonna give himself a migraine, Eddie thinks. But that admission strikes Eddie to his core. It cracks open his heart and shreds his muscles bit by bit. Every single gasp of breath and gargle of saliva bluntly slams against his ribs and shatters any healthy bone in his body.

On a seemingly languid Saturday afternoon, after hours of casual conversation about anything and everything, the joint being passed back and forth, and the morning where they had greeted each other; Steve Harrington crumples and shivers out an admission that may as well have stopped the moon from orbiting Earth. One that shushes the tides and collapses the coral reefs.

Eddie's been here. Wayne was in his spot and he took Steve's. He had mustered up enough courage to say he liked boys and nothing else. His uncle had gotten him water and a Tylenol and a warm comforter. And not once did he ask anything of Eddie. Didn't ask him to repack his things. Didn't usher him to the car and shame him in the one space he couldn't run away from. Didn't slam the door like Grim thumps his scythe. No, his Uncle Wayne called him Eddie for the first time, not Edward. He held him as his body shook. And he let the conversation go quiet. Let little Eddie scream into his chest and then, when his body went limp, Wayne carried him to bed and wished him a good night.

"And that's okay," Eddie states. "It's alright to be like that Steve. There's nothing wrong with it."

While Steve still won't look, he takes in a ragged, gasping, choking breath. He mutters, "It is when it's me. I'm wrong, Eddie." There's snot bubbling from his nose. Spit spilling from the corners of his gaping, gagging mouth. His face is blotched in various shades of pink and red and white.

Eddie reaches into his back pocket for his bandana.

He very gently touches Steve's jaw with his fingertips. The bandana tickles against his chin. "Turn your face to me," he whispers. He wipes over Steve's mouth and dabs at the edges of his nostrils. With his unoccupied hand, Eddie guides one of Steve's to grasp at the bandana. He ducks down to be in his line of sight. "I want, no, need you to understand something, okay?" Steve blinks.

"Nothing is wrong with you." When Steve squeaks to protest, Eddie shakes his head softly. "Nothing. And I know you don't believe me. I know it because it took me a very long time to believe that about myself," he takes a shaking breath. "I'll tell you what Wayne told me.

"'There is nothing bad about love.' Loving somebody is completely natural, right? And even if somebody doesn't ever love another person, they still find that in other things. Like, I love my guitar. That's one thing. Max loves skateboarding. There's another.

"Loving somebody or something isn't wrong. And not loving somebody or something also isn't wrong. It's something that just occurs. Like crystals or the rising sun or fallen pinecones from trees. It just happens. Nothing wrong with it, does that make sense?" Eddie asks. Steve nods and blinks at him. "Okay. Good, that's good," he whispers.

Steve sniffles. Eddie looks into the middle distance of his living room. The black TV screen shines back at him. In the reflection, he can see the two of them. He can see a young Eddie and Uncle Wayne. Right now, he sees two boys roughly the same age. Yet, Steve looks haunted beyond his years. He's exhausted, rung out. Slumped into himself. Smaller than before Spring Break.

His eyes wander to Wayne's alarm clock. 5:28.

"We'll talk more in a bit, if you want. But can I make you dinner" Eddie quietly asks. Steve still doesn't talk, just nods in agreement and stares down at the bandana resting in his grip. His fingers play with some of the fraying hem. He twists the cloth and lets it go limp again.

It doesn't take too long for Eddie to come back with dinner. Just a couple grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls of tomato soup. Steve hasn't had much more of his water and isn't crying anymore. He just sits, blankly staring at his hands, blinking distantly, and breathing shakily.

"Your dinner is on the table Stevie," Eddie says. He nibbles at his own food, slurps at his soup, and silently prays that Steve will listen. He doesn't move. "Steve?" Eddie calls out.

Suddenly, it's like a magic spell is broken and Steve's eyes find Eddie's.

"What's goin' on?" he questions. Steve just blinks back. "Please eat," he begs. A shaking head is what he gets in response. "Just try some of it? You're making me really worried and I don't know what else to do."

Steve hesitantly takes a few bites of his sandwich from where it sits cold on his plate. He doesn't touch the soup at all, but it's a start. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief from next to him.

After several minutes of stilted silence with the occasional jaw pop from chewing, Steve whispers, "I feel like I'm losing my mind." As Eddie brings his sandwich up for the last bite, all his movements freeze. Suddenly, he's back in the forest searching for a jumpy Chrissy Cunningham, he's walking her to his front door, he's leaving her vulnerable body in his living room, and then he's fleeing as far as he could possibly go. "I don't know what to do," Steve timidly admits.

"What? What do you mean Steve?" Eddie breathes, petrified.

"I—" His mouth opens and closes, no other syllables escaping. But he breathes in. A thousand emotions flash behind Steve's eyes, even if none make themself present on his face. Horror. Shame. Embarrassment. Attraction. Anger. Acceptance. "What's it like? Being gay?" he pushes out from behind the crease of his eyebrows.

Eddie's movements falter again. Every muscle in his body spasms. His heart flutters. His brain seizes. But he doesn't back down. "It's. It's a little isolating, I guess," he answers first. "I've been different from all my peers since I was a kid in elementary school. Other kids would dare me to kiss girls or play footsie with them or write them love letters. It just felt...I'm not sure. Like I was lying?

"I've been in situations too where I feel guilty for being myself. For not doing what they'd tell me. When I would defy my father's request of having sex with girls in the future. He was so, pushy, about making sure I ended up with a woman. A good one. And I didn't know how to tell him that that fantasy he had was never becoming reality. Because it wasn't me.

"Being gay isn't something wrong. It isn't supposed to feel that way, but people treat you differently because of it. People pick on you more. Beat you up. They shout things at you that are so visceral you start to wonder if God would tear them down too. Being aware that I like men is sometimes halting. Like, I become self aware or something.

"So, for instance," Eddie breathes in. What am I about to say, holy shit. "When I'm masturbating? I'm not looking at Playboy or something. I'm not staring down a set of tits. I'm not thinking of vaginas and eating out girls...I'm thinking of penises sitting heavy on my tongue. I'm thinking of being pushed down into a mattress and getting hit from behind. I'm thinking of kissing men that smell like aftershave, not women that smell like cherry chapstick.

"When I'm masturbating and I'm looking at gay porn, I feel like I'm catching myself. Almost every time. I'm thinking, holy crap, this is a man on this page. And it panics me a little bit. It kinda makes me have to think about what I'm doing. It's eye opening, to say the least. To realize that one of my classmates or a close friend or something is casually having sex with women or looking at pictures of boobs. And I'm just kind of a barren wasteland? I have to go out to seedy bars or secret underground clubs or wear certain accessories to try and get somebody in my bed. And even then, most of the time, I'm having quiet sex in a bathroom or behind bleachers or in a locker room because straight boys don't want to be found out.

"Being gay is kind of lonely. But at the same time? It's freeing once you come to know it. I have faith, though things look bleak for people like me right now, that at some point in the future, I can be as open as I want to be. I can brag about my hookups or flirt in public or hold hands with another dude across the table at a diner. I believe we'll get there, it's just isolating right now. Does any of that answer your question?" Eddie breathes, staring at Steve's profile once more.

"Yeah," he whispers. "I just. If I tell you something, you won't punch me, right?" He asks, making direct, purposeful eye contact with Eddie. His eyes aren't a deep brown, but with how intense everything has been today, they could be. Eddie could blink and be caught staring at his own eyes.

"Of course Steve. Unless you're asking me to hide a body, then I'm out the door because I can't go through a fiasco like that so soon," he jokes.

Steve chuckles wryly. He runs a hand through his hair one, two, three times. Further messing up any chance of perfection atop his head. Then again, his hair has seen better days. His body has seen better days, that's something Eddie notices. Since waking up in the hospital at the start of April, he's noted every single time he's seen Steve. How exhausted he is. How hungry he always seems, or sometimes doesn't seem. The way he carries himself, like a rigid piece of wood, ready for an axe to come swinging down across his torso. The moments where they wouldn't come across each other, when Robin states that Steve's feeling under the weather.

Now Eddie realizes what that really was. Him hiding. Him being frightened. Him having to lie to protect himself. Him feeling like he's wrong.

Steve looks down at his lap. "I realized something was different about me when we came back from the Upside Down," he starts. "I think maybe it began with Tommy Hagan in 1983? How rejected I felt when he spat in my face the last time we talked. But I couldn't put an understanding to the way my heart just hurt.

"And then in 1985, Robin talked about Tammy Thompson. Some part of me started to flutter with something. Like, sure, I was turned down when I went to ask her out. Then again when Nancy walked away from me back in March of this year. But something started to scorch in my chest when I saw you in the hospital after the demobat attack," he admits.

Eddie's curiosity has piqued a new level. He feels like he knows where this is all going. He knows where his own heart beats in all of this. He has wished since he first saw Steve in high school that a moment like this would come. But in this moment, he swallows down any hope and puts on a straight face. Don't scare him, he tells himself. He hums to signal that he's listening and gestures for Steve to continue.

"I think I finally figured out what it was. And I was just terrified to confront it. So I hid away and tried to stay focused on the other people around me. And I think it's just been eating at me. I don't know how else to say or where else to say it," Steve sighs and wipes a hand down his face. He looks down at his palm, it's shaking.

"Eddie, I'm stupidly in love with you. Like I'm crazy about you. It scares me, I've never felt this way before for another guy. And I really don't want to lose you as a friend. And I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable, I just can't hold onto this any--"

He comes to a stop when he feels Eddie's hands holding his. "Hey Steve," he whispers. Those three words that didn't spill from his mouth back in March. The ones that would've marked a bitter end had Eddie not come around. Three little words that he hopes taste better in July. "I understand, okay?"

Say it. You could die tomorrow. Say it. No more running. Say it.

"I love you," Eddie swears, vehemently, like a prayer that should be delivered right to God's lap.

Steve's eyes are shining, his body perks, he looks almost instantly healthier. "Really?" he breathes, disbelievingly.

"Yeah Stevie. I swear on Dustin's mother," he sighs. "I'm stupid crazy for you. I just didn't want to push you to that realization," he runs his thumbs over Steve's knuckles. He imagines bringing them to his mouth to peck across each individual bone, but he knows that would be overwhelming. Especially since Steve is just now confronting every emotion that's been bottling in him for months now. He's just now admitting to this thing that's been festering in him as a mistake.

He continues to hold Steve's hands while gazing into his eyes. Up close he can see every spatter of green against the array of hazel-brown. He can watch the daylight travel through his body. Steve still looks...well not good. Not at all. His skin is still pale and thin. All the hair on his head is stringy and undone and terribly knotted. His face is dotted with moles, yes, but is also blotched in various places. He looks miserable and sickly, but he looks relieved and somehow, new.

"Can you kiss me?" Steve quietly asks.

And how can Eddie say no?

He leans in, as slow as he can to give Steve all the time to move away if he's still unsure. But when he doesn't, Eddie surges forward and lightly presses his lips to Steve's. They're chapped and warm. Greasy too from the grilled cheese sandwich. His breath tastes like cheese and marijuana and hot tears. When he parts his lips, Eddie doesn't push into him. He isn't ready to be rough and needy and heated. So, when he's satisfied with the taste across his own lips, he pulls away.

Steve has his eyes closed when Eddie sits back. Eyelashes brush under his eyes and fan out like flower petals. He cups his cheeks to hold him gently. The skin under his palms is warm. He can feel the small smile that adorns Steve's puffy face. Every tacky tear track. All the cold spots on his skin. The raised areas from past Upside Down incidents. His moles.

"That was nice," Steve whispers.

"Yeah?" Eddie quizzes while chuckling. Steve nods against his palms. "Good. And Steve?"

"Wh't is it?" he asks.

"I want to be careful with you. We take this at your pace. Okay?" Eddie explains.

"Okay," Steve agrees. He tilts his head to the left, kissing Eddie's palm. "You'll be careful with me," his small smile grows enough to push his cheeks upwards.

"Yeah. And," he takes a deep breath. "We'll go crazy together, right?"

"Crazy together," Steve confirms.

And when Eddie chances one last look before kissing him again, he notes that Steve looks at peace. He looks satiated. He looks...loved.

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

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #angst and hurt/comfort #getting together #love confessions #coming out #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson

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ladyduellist · 5 months

Text

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion's vampirism creates concern and he finds out information about his soul mate mark.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 4: Outliers

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Language, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Istiks never seem to learn that their hearts always bring about their ruin. One must rip, shred, and tear their way through for the betterment of their kin. To hold bonds denotes weakness. To have compassion is a slow suicide. There are no gods to protect you. Emotions only serve to enslave you. I’d rather lead myself and my people into the pyre than let any of that fester inside.

— Lae’zel, meandering thoughts written on the back of a map

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Tav awoke with two puncture wounds staring at her in the face.

The blood clotted overnight, leaving droplets of leftover residue near the fang marks of Astarion's thirst. As she sat up, her head felt noticeably woozy and the length of her forearm felt bruised. She touched it gingerly, recalling the moment he pulled her towards him in the heat of his heightened hunger while he latched onto her wrist.

She placed her face in her hands and groaned. Gods, whatever was she thinking last night?

Right. Astarion had her thoroughly enthralled. The tadpole connections were a mistake for that reason alone: the ability to look into another’s mind, to see their secrets untamed, and feel all those emotions together. And with what had transpired, it had left quite the effect on her.

The images he had shown her were so brutal—so full of suffering—Tav thought maybe she understood just one equation that made up the countless formulas that created this vampire into the man he was in the present. She wondered if his dramatic theatrics may be a performance, a front to hide the torment he had experienced over the course of his undead life. Only, he revealed to her a side that kept her head on a swivel. When he entered her tent and asked ordinary questions about her life to ease her anxiety about him biting her and then afterwards when he took the liberty to lay her down on her roll safely, Astarion had been tender.

But, which version of him was the real one—if any at all?

Yet, there was still an infinite amount of revelations the bard didn’t know about him. Would he begin to trust her with those in due time? Or would the practiced Casanova would sink further into velvet pillows, surrounded by chalices of blood and other pleasures, that could never be the tonic to truly heal him. Hells, what about her fully trusting him beyond the surface she materialized? Was that even a possibility?

He had to have her, so he drank. And on the seventh day, her heart started to resurrect.

Lest she ignore those lustful thoughts she couldn’t fetch away with a pail to bury into the sands of the ocean. One touch from him was all it took for her to be at his beck and call. It was troubling to be at the whims of a man within a short time period of their introductions. To be at the whims of a man at all.

She rubbed at her temples. He will harm you, Tavelle. The more pieces of your heart that he wades through, the easier it will be for him to weaponize what you hold most dear. This isn’t uncommon to you. Do not let your benevolence expose yourself any further, else the path is laid with punishment.

Everything was disconcerting. Uncertain. Perilous. Tav’s mistakes with Astarion were adding up. She had now allowed him access to her body, blood, and specks of cloaked frailty that she had tied over and over again with twine, binding her tightly from others doing no harm. Nobody else in recent years had managed to disarm her with such a disposition of their character like he did.

Tav’s eyes watered, her lips warm and flushed out of inner anguish. But, maybe that’s what you deserve? For all your wrongdoings. For not having the proper strength in the past to assert yourself. You sickened Algos, why not the others? You’re gloomy and sensitive. If you don’t stay one step ahead, everyone will know. Maybe you should endure this over and over again because deep down, you know the truth: you hate yourself.

She pushed out a long shaky puff of air through her lips, quietly delivering a speech to herself. “No. That isn’t true. You’re worth more than that. You’re a good woman that is deserving of a love that feels safe. Of kindness. A soft and healing kind of love. Not just romantically, but love in all ways. You deserve your peace.”

Convincing her heart that the gnawing twinge wasn’t real when it came to Astarion, would only mar her in the long run. Because here’s the deal: she was starting to care about him. Vigilance in keeping her relationship with him as an established friendship had to become one of her priorities—for her own sake before he became a weakness she couldn’t control.

To thine own self stay true.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Astarion whispered, nimbly catching the pack that had fallen off of Tav’s shoulder midair.

“Thank you." A quirky chuckle passed as she took the bag from him and secured it tightly around her shoulders. "I'm a bit groggy. But, I’ll manage.”

Astarion could hear the quickening of her heartbeat, much like it sounded when her wrist was under his moistened lips the previous night. By the mercy of her sweet essence, he couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible she tasted. A sinful mixture of ambrosia and the sugary tart secretions of her slit he could smell. The coppery taste was still idly hiding in the pockets of spaces between his teeth. Every so often, the swipe of his wettened tongue would touch one of the spots where her blood resided and the juxtaposition of his arousal would intrude.

”Let’s be fortunate, I'm not a true vampire. One bite from them and you could wake up as a vampire spawn—like my good self. All of their hunger, but very few of their powers.”

Tav turned her neck to the side, her brow knitted in confusion. “How are you able to stand in the sun? Is it because you’re not a full vampire?”

He stretched out his arm, moving branches out of the way for them as they careened through a dense growth of bushes. “No. I should have become ash in the sunlight. I hadn’t seen the sun for over two centuries before the mind flayers captured us.”

“Two centuries…I can imagine it must have come as a shock to you then.”

“Yes, well, apparently the rules have been changed.” The infliction in his voice rose excitedly. “Standing in the sun, wallowing through a river, entering homes without an invitation—they’re all perfectly mundane activities now.”

Tav beamed at him with one of her frequent amiably smiles Astarion noticed she typically presented. She listened so intently to him without uttering so much as a single sound, that he could have mistaken her for the dense-minded variety. And it wasn't only on this occasion, it was each time they spoke. He didn't believe she was doing it because she was actually interested in anything he had to tell her, more so, that she was being attentive to be polite and possibly gain something from it later—much like every single victim he had slept with.

“So, we’re traveling with a vampire? Of COURSE we are. I must warn you, I taste awful,” Gale interrupted with heavy sarcasm.

Astarion grinned, bowing his head as he noticed their companions had been listening to his conversation with the bard. “Now, now, I swear on this unbeating heart of mine that I will behave and not surprise any of you with a midnight nibble—unless you’d like one, of course. How does that sound?”

Shadowheart shrugged. “We’re all monsters in the making as far as I’m concerned. Just keep your distance from our necks—else we put a bell on you to dissuade you from hunting in our camp.”

Lae’zel didn’t offer much in the way of words, instead giving him a fierce warning. “Any fangs at my neck and I’ll gut you without so much as a thought, vamp.”

Tav moved to stand in between Astarion and the group, her hands placed firmly on her hips and voice composed. "I trust him; he will not harm us. We came to an agreement last night that when his hunger arises, if I am able, I will let him drink my blood. Otherwise, he has permission to sup from wild animals, our enemies, but no innocents.”

Astarion squinted his eyes in a befuddling expression. What in the bloody hells is she doing lying to them?

“What? I mean, yes, of course, we spoke at great lengths about how our gallant songbird will become my personal bloodbag. You have nothing to fear.”

Survival. That was all that mattered to him. Yet, this elven woman dared to jeopardize the burgeoning relationships she was forming with the others to offer him protection? How idiotic. Surely, she would inquire about what she was getting out of all this in return. Oh, and he would provide! He would take her along the edge of the river’s flowing waters and bait the crickets to set the mood with the violin of their legs as he wrote the alphabet of their common language with his tongue on her skin.

Yes, the gears were steadfastly spinning around inside his head as if they had just been thoroughly oiled. Gods above, the sweetest of dalliances this would be! Delightful!

Recite thy prayers in earnest and receive the saliva of his want. Blessed art thou amongst the music of the night, for thou shall inherit his bite.

Gale’s eyes darted from the vampire’s face to Tav’s wrist. He appeared bothered as he reached out, abruptly grabbing her forearm, the fresh wounds on display. “You let him bite you already?! Without warning the rest of us first?! Did you not think about how reckless that was, Tav?!”

“It was my decision to make, Gale. I already told you all that I trusted him. I would never have put any of you in danger,” Tav replied firmly, trying to shake his grip from her.

“No wonder you smelled like him this morning,” the human man muttered under his breath.

With the lucidity of his innate roguish movements, Astarion’s hand appeared around the wizard’s arm, clasping with his full strength. “Surely, you have finer mannerisms than some garish jealous sod. Or has all that time cooped up in your magic tower made you forget how to treat a lady?”

Gale pursed his mouth together, giving a final displeased look to Tav before releasing her. He stalked ahead with the other two women towards Emerald Grove that was now within view.

“I thought so,” Astarion sneered.

Tav lost her footing and fell back against Astarion’s chest with a gentle thud from the accidental force of Gale’s seizure. His hands flew to rest carefully on either side of her waist to steady her. She took a deep shaky breath, then spun her body around to face him.

With the balletic of her touch, she removed his hands, giving them a soft squeeze. “I—thank you. And I’m sorry. I probably should have been more considerate of everyone’s feelings over the matter before I let you drink from me. Gale and I will need to have a serious discussion soon over a few matters.”

Astarion flashed his fangs apathetically. “Whatever you need to do, my dear. I’m surely not going to lose any minutes of meditation over it.”

“By the by, I meant what I said earlier. It would certainly ease everyone’s worries to follow those boundaries. Only until they become more comfortable around you.” The side of her lip timidly receded in the center of her teeth. “I also don’t mind if you wish to continue to feed on my blood either, if—well, if that’s what you want of course. Just don’t go around randomly biting anyone.”

She—huh. He was mildly astounded, yet grateful for her offering to his stead. “I wouldn’t want to renege on our agreement, darling. Besides, I couldn’t imagine anyone’s flavor being comparable to yours. I can’t wait to eat you right up," Astarion gravelly laughed as he soothingly rubbed around the marks on her wrist.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion was irritated.

Nettie, the local druidic healer, proved to be of little help in aiding them with a cure for their worms. She insisted they coat their innards with a concocted vial of wyvern toxin the precise moment they sensed ceremorphosis changing them. Oh, but she certainly knew how to win over Tav with that pitiful sulk!

But, what really REALLY fabricated the aggrievement within the pit of his stomach, was Tav’s altruistic nature towards damned near everyone they came into contact with. It wasn’t enough that they were already on a suicide mission—with gods know how much time they had left to control the tadpoles—but now, she suggested they be a personal servant to nearly every blasted request they received.

”Save our Archdruid Halsin from those capricious goblins,” they beseeched.

"You’re strong. Capable. With the strength of the Absolute on the rise and the commonality of your tadpoles, only YOU can help us!" they cried out.

And the catch? The pockets of their purses hardly graced with a suitable reward and the promise of maybes that this Halsin could help them.

“We don’t even know if the druid is still alive! Yet, you want us to be saviors for this—this—stranger as if it is owed to him. Really, sweetheart, your martyrdom is inscrutable, ” Astarion commented callously.

Tav crossed her arms over her chest, undeniably patient as Astarion haughtily voiced his concerns. “I’m not asking anything of you, Astarion. You have a choice. What do you want to do?”

What kind of an absurd question was that?! He pondered. What he wanted. Preposterous.

“Ah yes, when you put it like that, the answer is so clear! I can either help, remain in camp, or travel on my own since the other weirdos in our group have already given into your sirenic charms," he said, counting off the options on his fingers in frustration.

Druid’s Grove was proving to be a disaster by Astarion’s observation. Helpless tieflings in every corner crying about the plight of their situation. Then, the druids seemed almost radicalized to rid their home of the migrants, that they were endlessly trying to recruit him and his companions to do damage control. Not to mention any residents that did reside there already, were so obsessed with the novelties of protecting the natural world and...gods be fucked, was that bear dung he just stepped in?

Lest he not forget about that Wyll Ravenguard stray they picked up: the Blade of Frontiers himself. It wasn’t that Wyll wasn’t a welcome addition to their court—he was a powerful monster hunter—but that damnable bard didn’t even bat an eyelash when she decided to ask him to join. Yes, he had a tadpole as well, but he was on a personal mission to find some archdevil’s soldier called Karlach. And she, once again, faithfully volunteered to be thrown into the fray to face down a fiend of Avernus.

“Have you forgotten about the crèche Lae’zel spoke about? I don’t know why we haven’t already headed in that direction. A mystery indeed,” the spawn added critically.

“There is truth to that which he speaks. Had we not decided to aid these ishtiks, we would be closer to where my kin was last seen. That weak tiefling, Zorru, mentioned seeing a red dragon flying low by the bridges leading into the mountains,” Lae’zel stated while she cleaned the edge of her sword. “We must meet with the Kith’rak as soon as possible.”

Wyll, in all his wondrous ability to wax a sensible demeanor, addressed the disagreement. “With much due respect, I have a duty to find the Advocatus Diaboli first before we leave the area.”

All witnessing eyes were fixed on Tav, as if she were the town harlot walking up to the altar to confess her impurities. No matter the commandments she gathered, they awaited her with the scarlet trumpet of judgment blown by a winged creature to embroider upon her back.

The normal paleness of Tav’s skin shed itself to reveal a reddish hue. She seemed crestfallen by the coming and going of her complex expression. “Okay," she breathed out.

Then, the songstress promptly left the conversation as if she had mistakenly stumbled upon it. Her plait swished down her back as she walked in the opposite direction where they were having their heated discussion.

Astarion wasn’t sure he should have been shocked or amused by the brashness of her actions.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Ah, so that is where you’ve been? Sneaking off to enjoy the pleasures of lyricism while the rest of us are disposed to play musical chairs to your noble commitments," Astarion openly barked.

The rogue had been throwing knives at a nearby tree along the breaches of the camp when he noticed Tav rounding the pathway, lute in hand, strolling with Alfira by her side. She did not pay him mind until after she hugged the tiefling, bidding her adieu with quiet words of encouragement.

Tav walked towards the tree to retrieve the knives sticking snugly in the bark, a visible frown forming shortly after the bardling departed. “I apologize I left so suddenly, but I needed some time to breathe in order to figure out what our next move should be. The talks became overwhelming fast.”

Astarion took the knives from her, lining one up with his sight to throw at the trunk. With one eye closed, he watched as the tip of the blade left his fingertips and embedded itself precisely into the bullseye of the bark he picked to hit.

“Our next move? Ha! I have to wonder where that mind of yours wanders off to sometimes," he scorned, melodramatically animating his hands. "It amazes me that the torch that was passed to you gets doused because you decided to rest on your laurels when things got complicated."

The marking behind his ear began to pulse wildly as if it had a beating heart of its own. He touched it delicately with his fingertips, bading it to calm itself.

This cursed thing only reacts when she's around. Frankly, what an inconvenience. It’s not as if she were my... No. No. NO. NO. NO, he deliberated erratically inside his brain.

Astarion stared unblinking at Tav, his red eyes wide like cherry pies. Her voice was static as her lips moved; each word jumbled and fuzzy. Those tempest eyes, usually unwavering in her dreadful kindness, now a mixture of hurt and annoyance.

“…what?”

She bit at her lip. “I said, what wrongs have I done to warrant this venom? I had no desire to be the leader, yet it was appointed to me anyways. I am nothing more than a bard that has studied the rapier my entire life. There is nothing special about me, yet you—”

Astarion needed to escape. Push her away from him. “Honestly, your decorum as our ‘leader’ could do with some improvement since you seem content with leading us to the butcher’s rack.”

“Have I not tried to pursue everyone’s input despite my polarity in the face of some of those subjects? I have never forced or manipulated a single one of you to bend to the wills of my heart. You’ve ALWAYS had a choice.”

He watched her behavior for any signs that she knew he possessed the same marking she did. Was that area on her arm where she scratched the location of the mark? Or was it on the dip in her hip where she placed her hand confidently?

He felt a bubbling sickness in his stomach. Wait, does she not know? How could she not know?

And then, the final poison spewed from his throat. A deflective acidic stream that he knew would damage her good nature and protect himself from her. “I see now my expectations of you were misplaced. If we all start to transform, it will be because of your bleeding heart you can't seem to balance out.”

Tav’s eyes welled up with angered tears.

“I didn’t mean—” he began.

“Yes, you did! What is this truly about, Astarion? Please help me to understand because I sure as hells don’t deserve this treatment from you of all people. And I absolutely don’t deserve this from someone that calls themselves my friend,” she pleaded sternly.

Then, it suddenly dawned on Astarion: he hadn’t had a friend in over 200 years. Tav was right, this wasn’t how friends acted. His “siblings” were also slaves to the same master and not exactly individuals he would refer to so intimately. He hadn’t spent more than a single night with anyone outside of the Crimson Palace for centuries, and now, he had been thrown into these stranger's arms for over a week. He was terrified.

Astarion knew how to be a lover—how to deceive and convince people to do as he pleased—but could he learn how to be a friend if only for the sake of protection? He wasn’t even sure he understood what that meant anymore or what it entailed.

Another mistake.

This bard, with her penchant for compassion and blood that would ensnare him to his grave over and over again, was driving him into madness. It wasn’t his fault he was thrown off his accustomed position that usually had the upper hand. He wasn’t to blame for any of it.

“Gods! I don’t know—I just—don’t expect me to go out of my way to save anyone.”

But, he did know.

He knew each time she asked his opinion about a situation.

He knew when she warm heartedly asked him about what he wanted.

He knew every morning he woke up and bathed with the sun’s beams cradling his face.

Astarion knew that he was still half bound in perdition to his master, while the other half was granted ablution for a fresh start in life.

And recently, he knew his soulmate was the elven bard standing in front of him named Tavelle Swiftchoir and he couldn’t have been more disappointed.

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certifieddudette · 8 months

Text

I'm prettiest when I just woke up.

Bombastic bedhead.

Makeup vaguely spilling on my eyelids.

Hair wild and untamed,

leftover conditioner desperately trying to soak in.

No time spent figuring out

who I'm going to pretend to be today.

I don't know how my pillows do it, but

every time, I look like an 80's model.

I see the girl they're all talking about.

And for just a second...

I get a glance at the divine in me.

#CD poetryposting #poetryposting #self love #trans joy #trans #poetry

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

Note

3. In The Untamed, for some reason the Jiang trio don't speak up or look for Wen Qing & Wen Ning when all the fighting is over. I'm hoping there was some kind of good reason for that, but it bothers me. Particularly since they wrote in all that romance subplot for Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing. But anyway, none of them spoke up before WWX literally ran into Wen Qing. But you know who else was on Dafan Mountan with the scary statue and the local Wens turned it puppets? Who also saw Wen Qing try to protect them and spent time inside WWX's string talisman cage thing with her?

Nie Huaisang. He also knows that there were some Wen being held hostage by Wen Chao to force Wen Qing's obedience. Heck, Wen Qing and/or Wen Ning could plausibly have been the ones to care for him when NHS fainted at the indoctrination camp. What if he had told all this to his brother? Either during the war or as soon as he showed up in the Nightless City for the Very Awkward Victory Dinner.

Emotional Support - ao3

“It’s done,” Nie Mingjue said, and promptly collapsed face-first on Nie Huaisang’s bed.

Nie Huaisang patted him on the back of the head.

“There, there,” he said. “The mean politicians won’t hurt you anymore.”

His brother mumbled something into the sheets that sounded suspiciously like Wanna bet?

“Today,” Nie Huaisang revised. “They won’t hurt you any more today. Tomorrow is a new day.”

His brother groaned.

Clearly it had been an especially awful day, and someone was in need of some attention.

“So what did you end up deciding?” Nie Huaisang asked. He even put aside the book he’d been reading, which was a huge sacrifice on his part. But in fairness, his brother hadn’t acted immature in his presence for years and years by now, not since they were little kids, and he had just won a war and avenged their father; a little sacrifice on Nie Huaisang’s part seemed to be reasonable.

“Jin Guangshan’s going to be throwing a party,” Nie Mingjue said at once, and Nie Huaisang had to hide a smile – of course that would be the most traumatic part of it for his brother, who hated parties and hated politics and (in all honesty) hated most people. He didn’t have any ear for music or an eye for dance, so he couldn’t even enjoy the entertainment, and the Jin sect tended to, as his brother put it, “cook their food beyond recognition.”

“I could get horribly sick right before?” Nie Huaisang offered.

“No, it’s to celebrate the end of the war. We have to attend. Inauspicious not to.”

“Ah, I see, I see. My sympathies.”

“You have to attend, too.”

“Yes, but I’ll actually enjoy it, I like parties and socializing,” Nie Huaisang pointed out, mercilessly, and his brother groaned again. “Anyway, tell me something good instead. What did you end up doing with – ”

He cast around for a subject. It was hard, given that he didn’t care much about politics, and there were so many ‘things that could not be spoken of’! He couldn’t ask about Lan Xichen, because he’d been proposing a sworn brotherhood with Meng Yao and his brother didn’t want to think about that (though he’d probably give in eventually given how much he’d always liked Meng Yao before it had all gone wrong up somehow), he definitely couldn’t ask about Meng Yao for obvious reasons, his brother wouldn’t care or even know about the forever ongoing Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli drama, the Jiang sect was also a no-go subject (his brother had literally done everything in his power to warn them of a possible attack short of moving personally to the Lotus Pier to try to defend them, and yet he still felt bad about what had happened), Wei Wuxian had turned into a possibly insane demonic cultivator and everything about him had become incredibly awkward…

Wow, he was running out of Great Sects to pick from.

“ – the leftover people from the Wen sect?” Nie Huaisang finally settled on.

Mostly out of lack of anything better.

It was pretty weak. His brother even turned around and cracked open an eye to give him a judgmental look, which was pretty well deserved.

Still, there wasn’t anything else to talk about, so Nie Huaisang gave his brother an expectant look until he gave in, as he usually did.

“They’ll be resettled somewhere,” Nie Mingjue begrudgingly said. “Xichen’s idea, giving them mercy, and everyone agreed – even Jin Guangshan. They’ll be given good farmland, a place to live peacefully, albeit with a guard, at least at first. The Jin sect promised to take care of it. Suppose they figured they might as well contribute something to the war effort…”

More likely they thought that throwing around their money now would be enticing to all those sects that needed money for rebuilding, Nie Huaisang thought cynically, which was all of them. His own included!

They were short on everything now, thanks to the war. His own spending budget was practically inviolable – the one time he’d tried to cut back voluntarily, half the sect had emptied out their own pockets to slip spending money into his room and he was still finding random strings of coins in weird places – but for just about everything else, they needed to scrimp and save up the money to pay. There were building repairs, which meant both supplies and workers; more disciples, which meant more weapons, more clothing, more food; more staff and civilian support, which meant even more food, and of course as non-cultivators they also got sick more easily, which also meant more doctors…

Hmm, actually, that reminded Nie Huaisang.

“Farmland, you say?” he asked, propping up his chin on his hand. “What about the ones that aren’t farmers?”

“The ones – you mean the Wen sect?” His brother rolled onto his side. “Who cares if they weren’t originally farmers? What do you expect them to do, continue being soldiers?”

“Not soldiers,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “But the ones who had other professions! There was that girl who came to the Cloud Recesses at the same time as Jiang-xiong and Wei-xiong, what’s her name, Wen Qing. She’s one of the ones from Dafan.”

“I’m familiar with Wen Ruohan’s niece,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “Her medical skills were reputedly the only thing that kept that madman going after he poisoned himself with Yin Metal.”

“Oh, that.He was probably threatening her family.” Nie Huaisang shrugged when his brother stared at him. “She had a cute little brother, a stutterer, nearly as much of a good-for-nothing as me, plus a bunch of people back in Dafan…don’t you remember, I told you, the thing with the statute?”

“That time you went into Wen territory on your way home from the Cloud Recesses? Yes, it rings a bell.”

“Not the point,” Nie Huaisang protested. “The point is, we know she’s a good doctor, right? A doctor and a young lady, which means she’ll probably be shit at farming…and we could use more doctors that won’t turn their nose up at treating non-cultivators.”

“Are you suggesting that we bring people surnamed Wen here?”

“Why not? Wen Ruohan’s dead, and he’s the one we really hated. Anyway, it’s not as if the Jin are going to complain if we poach a few of the Wen for our own purposes, right? That’s just less farmland they have to pay for.”

“…we don’t even know if Wen Qing is even with the Jin sect,” his brother argued, but it was weak and they both knew it. “They didn’t catch everyone, you know, it’s only the prisoners of war. Some of them might still be loose. Or she could have died, or something…”

“The point is still a good one,” Nie Huaisang said virtuously, enjoying being the one in the right for once. “To the extent that any of the ones that were captured by the Jin sect aren’t suited for farming or have other professional skills, we can pick a few of the best and bring them back here. As long as we only bring back a few, they’ll be vastly outnumbered and won’t dare to make trouble…you know, maybe that’s the reason the Jin sect decided to volunteer? Getting first call on picking out the more talented Wen to recruit seems like something they’d do, more than actually contributing to the war.”

Nie Mingjue groaned a third time, which was probably a concession.

Nie Huaisang decided to play his trump card.

“Anyway, if the Jin are angry about us doing a bit of poaching, they might get so huffy that they’d cancel their horrible victory feast…”

“We should be so lucky,” Nie Mingjue grumbled. “No, don’t promise me fantasies, there’s no way they’re cancelling that. But we can go look for Wen Qing anyway.”

“And Wen Ning! That’s the brother I mentioned, the cute one.”

“…that’s the second time you’ve said he was cute, Huaisang.”

“Well, he is,” Nie Huaisang said. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“I’m getting at the fact that your argument hinges on us only taking those that have useful skills, and it doesn’t sound like he has any useful skills.”

Nie Huaisang thought about it, but the only skill he’d ever seen or heard of Wen Ning displaying was that one time Wei Wuxian had claimed without any backup he was good at archery, but obviously that wouldn’t help his argument at all. Not that he was going to let that get in the way of an argument with his brother, of course.

“His skill is the fact that he’s cute,” he proclaimed. “His presence is very comforting!”

“…are you suggesting that you want him around for emotional support?”

“He’s my emotional support Wen,” Nie Huaisang said, and managed to hold out for exactly two heartbeats before descending into cackling. “Oh, that’s terrible, even for me.”

“It really is,” Nie Mingjue agreed. He’d hidden his face back in the bed but he sounded like he was smiling. “All right, you win, have it your way the way you always do. We’ll go check out the Qiongqi Path in another half-month or so.”

“Another half-month? Why not now?”

“I’m busy. Lan Xichen…anyway, I’m busy. Maybe we can time it to be just before that awful party.”

“So that Jin Guangshan will be too busy complaining about that to do anything else? I see the logic.” Nie Huaisang carefully didn’t mention what was probably going to be a sworn brotherhood ceremony his brother didn’t especially want to engage in. He still didn’t know what had happened that had made his brother so angry at Meng Yao, but it’d only gotten worse as of late, as had his brother’s paranoia about not letting Nie Huaisang anywhere near Meng Yao. “Of course, that might mean he’d try to talk to you throughout the party…if you want, I can go by myself to check out the last few Wen sect. While you’re busy.”

As expected, his brother looked relieved at the suggestion. There really wasn’t any justifiable reason for him to keep Nie Huaisang, as a blood relation, from attending a fancy sworn brotherhood ceremony, but if Nie Huaisang did what he usually did and ‘wandered away’ on his own business right beforehand, unable to be found, well, that was all on empty-headed Nie Huaisang’s own head, wasn’t it?

And after, once the oaths were sworn, his brother would feel more comfortable about allowing Meng Yao to interact with Nie Huaisang again.

“Yes, I like that idea,” Nie Huaisang said amiably. It was the least he could do. “I’ll head out tomorrow or the day after – I’ll take a few others with me, don’t give me that look! I wasn’t planning on going by myself!”

“Uh-huh,” his brother said skeptically. “Remind me again about when you spent time with Wen Qing? Something about encountering a goddess statute when it was just you, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian..?”

“And Jiang Cheng!”

“Huaisang…”

“In fact, maybe I’ll ask one of them if they want to come with me,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily. “It’ll be just like old times!”

“Huaisang, leave them alone. Don’t they have to rebuild their own sects?”

“All the more reason for them to come with me,” Nie Huaisang argued. “They need spare manpower as much as we do, don’t they? More, in Jiang Cheng’s case!”

“Jiang Wanyin will be preparing for Jin Guangshan’s party, same as me.”

“Sure, but Wei Wuxian won’t be. He’s worse at parties than you are, da-ge, and that’s saying something.”

“You are not allowed to go by yourself with Wei Wuxian,” Nie Mingjue said, and his voice had a tone of finality. “It’s not the way it used to be, with him being a talented young master. We don’t yet know what effects that demonic cultivation of his will have on him – and the Yin Tiger Seal, too…”

“Fine. Then I’ll get Lan Wangji to come with us,” Nie Huaisang said. “He’s not the heir either, and it’d be more convenient if none of us younger brothers were at that thing you are going to be busy with, right? You can’t seriously be worried that Wei Wuxian will try something if Lan Wangji’s on his back all the time.”

“They’re friends, aren’t they? Would you really say that it’s being ‘on his back’?”

“Uh, yes. You’ve met Lan Wangji! The more he likes you, the more he quotes rules at you! If he dislikes you, he’ll just ignore you!”

Nie Mingjue was forced into a chuckle. “Yes, well, I suppose you have a point…take some Nie disciples with you as well, all right? Just in case.”

“Fine, fine, ruin my fun! We’ll take a complete caravan, it’ll be a complete circus, but at least we’ll be safe and secure and ready to fight in the event we should be menaced by, I don’t know, a small army or something.”

His brother was actually laughing now.

Much better.

Nie Huaisang smiled and picked up his book again. He’d go find Wei Wuxian tomorrow, he thought to himself, contented, and Lan Wangji as well – the latter would agree as soon as he knew the former was coming, he was sure. Jiang Cheng would probably be happy to see them get out of his way while he was trying to negotiate tricky political waters, and it wasn’t as if they were actually going to end up causing any serious trouble, after all.

They were going to be visiting a farm. How much political trouble could they find there?

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #emotional support #comedy fix it won

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admirableadmiranda · 1 year

Note

Hello! How are you feeling? How's life training you?

I have come with another question, if you're up to it. (I'm sorry if I'm asking a bit too many questions.)

I read a fic yesterday that stated that Wei Wuxian caused thousands of souls from entering the rebirth cycle. That he killed souls indiscriminately. My assumption is that they took an accusation from The Untamed (fic was based on the live action) as fact. But is there any indication that any of the spirits or corpses used by Wei Wuxian were unable to reincarnate or not put to rest once he was done?

Hello! I’m doing okay, I’m getting over a cold, my tumblr inbox is suffering because life has been too busy for essay long questions but I promise I’ll get there eventually. I have a week coming up in March where I’ll just be at home on recovery so plenty of time will be there then!!

This one on the other hand (as long as you don’t mind me skipping the breakdown of souls in Chinese beliefs again) is pretty short.

So Wei Wuxian isn’t manipulating anything that wasn’t already trapped on earth to begin with. The part of the soul most needed to reincarnate dies and goes into the afterlife when the person does, and the leftover bits join them when the body is buried. This is why burial rites are really important and most all of our resentful spirits/corpses we see usually weren’t buried. That in and of itself makes an unhappy spirit that can’t move on and if given enough time, even burying it won’t help without additional work to deal with their spirit.

Wei Wuxian, contrary to popular belief (and I don’t even know if it’s a CQL error or people making shit up and using stuff in CQL to justify it) isn’t trapping anyone on earth. He’s actually helping get rid of the lingering resentful souls and stuff that’s busy being angry at still being in the world with his cultivation; spending time with dead flower girls who want to pass on their knowledge and enjoy being alive a little longer, helping souls who died violently get revenge on their killers so they can be at peace, letting them fulfill last wishes just as A-Qing keeping people out of Yi City and wanting Xue Yang dead was hers (even if she was cruelly shattered before he could finish the task). His guidao tends to be a net positive wherever he goes because he is working with the existing misery in the area and getting rid of it.

This is why in the war he had to make angry spirits by digging up bodies and aggravating them enough to create his army before people started dying. This is why in Qiongqi Path 2.0 Jin Zixun has his men remove every corpse or dead thing in miles so that Wei Wuxian is crippled. If there’s nothing there to work with, then he can’t cultivate. He can’t create resentment that doesn’t already exist.

Even in Wen Ning’s case, what he has done is bind his living soul to his dead body, but Wen Ning can still die again when he’s ready. Wen Ning is still around because Wen Ning isn’t ready to go. Wen Ning wants to live more, he’ll pass on when he’s ready.

So really anything about him ruining souls for reincarnation or pulling them out of the cycle is a load of bullshit usually based off of a complete lack of knowledge of how Chinese souls and ghosts work in general and then used to blame him for being who he is (and also usually used to exonerate villains I’m sure you’ve seen too)

Hope that helps!

#mdzs #wei wuxian #asks #guidao is not innately harmful to the practitioner or the souls he’s practices with #they were already stuck and suffering; he’s giving them a hand so they can actually reincarnate and come back happier once more

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dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 5 months

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Tag Game

Tagged by @tortoisesshells!

Last song: "Blow the Man Down" - The Longest Johns (I threw this album on for the drive home, preceded by the Mamas and the Papas' version of "Dream A Little Dream of Me" and also the Escape From New York theme, bc I'm insane.)

Last film: I half-rewatched both Big Trouble in Little China and The Thief and the Cobbler (Recobbled Cut Mark 5 WIP) yesterday. Last new-to-me was Escape from L.A. John Jarpenter's Russell films have captivated me this January and it's all my brother's fault.

Currently reading: I finished House of Many Ways (meh) and am deciding what to do next. What I should do is finish Rebecca and Watership Down, but I also want to finally start Marcus Rediker's Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.

Currently watching: @widowshill and I are currently watching The Untamed and Dark Shadows together and next time we watch we are going to get SLAMMED with plot from both sdfjlsfjlsfjl.

Currently consuming: Nothing (just brushed my teeth), but I had the dinner of champions: microwaved Italian meatballs, an apple, and pretzel chips. At least I had leftover Thai food for lunch.

Currently craving: Sleep but also the next installment in Wendy–Aleah TV Night; it's gonna be a wild one.

Tagging: @internal-morgan, @the-golden-ghost, @witchklng, @socialjusticebard, @doomcannotbethisadorable, @dandunn, @mirrorfalls, @venhediss, @inkonfreshnewpaper, @detectivebilltaba, @girlfriendsofthegalaxy, @bogglebabbles, @stardustandtwilight, @mossiestpiglet, @carolinanadeau, @majortomiscominghome, @wateroflifer, @rithmeres, and anyone else who wants to; just say I tagged you!

#highlight from ds ep. 117: ''hysterical that in the ds that lives in our minds burke has somehow become the most fuckable man in town.#roger. sam. laura. vicki. carolyn. liz.''#personal

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fiendishartist2 · 1 year

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too alien to take you home– mp100

Once the dust settled over Seasoning City, and Toichiro Suzuki was finally taken away, Shou found himself with nowhere to go.

For a few hours, he wandered. He scaled rubble, looking for anything to occupy his mind with. Anything that could push away the static in his brain– that could stop the leftover shockwaves of adrenaline shooting through his restless limbs.

Eventually, he found himself perched on an upside-down park bench. Over and over, he spread his aura thin over the city, marking names and faces on a mental map. He counted them on his hands, making sure to take stock of every single Claw member first, then smaller, less familiar auras second.

There, on the outskirts of the city, in an apartment carefully crafted to be inconspicuous, were Fukuda, Higashio, and Ootsuki. Another familiar aura– Serizawa, in the lower-end suburban area. Minegishi and Hatori were together, picking apart what remained of the centre of the city. A few Scars were scattered around as well; Tsuchiya and that little girl Shou never got along with were near the train station, while Sakurai and Koyama were in a restaurant. Joseph and his father were long gone, but their auras left behind a trail of power in their wake.

He ran over them all in his head, dwelling on his father's violent red explosion in the centre of the city, where a giant broccoli now grew out of the ground. It hurt, deep and sharp like a hole in his gums where a tooth used to be– but he kept running his tongue over the bloody spot regardless. It loosened something in his chest, the constant reminder that Claw was over for good. His father left his mark on the city, but that mark was an outright confirmation that he wasn't coming back.

Then something else caught his attention; something cold, in deep indigoes and bubbly cyans. Glittering, like it wanted nothing more than to distract him. Next to it, two more auras sparkled, overpowering to anyone else, but just background noise to Shou compared to the alluring blue.

"Ritsu…?" Shou mumbled to the empty air. That's not his house, Shou thought, icy trepidation spider-webbing through his gut. Goosebumps spread across his grimy skin, and Shou was overcome with the sudden need to find his newfound best friend.

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

Shou landed roughly on the fire escape of an apartment. Through the haze of his brain, he remembered vague definitely-illegally-dug-up information he studied for weeks before his coup. This shitty little flat on the bad side of the city belonged to Reigen Arataka. He only really bothered to look into ways to get Ritsu's brother to flip out, which lead him to Spirits and Such and eventually, this apartment. Other than what he saw of him on the Culture Tower through the pain of being thrown around by his father, Shou didn’t know anything about Reigen.

He perched on the windowsill, willing his double vision to come back– if only to stop the sharp tunnel-vision of his gaze giving him a headache. Pain pounded behind his eyes in time with his racing heart.

He squinted through the window, trying to parse out what was what. And more importantly, where Ritsu was.

Soft, orange light filtered in from a side room no bigger than a closet, illuminating everything inside. The single room apartment was cramped, furniture packed together to give just enough space to walk between them. The couch and desk were unoccupied, but if Shou squinted, he could see three distinct lumps curled up on the bed. Ritsu's brother, flat on his back and dead to the world, was the most distinct, due to his whole face being visible above the blankets. Ritsu laid sprawled out next to him, clutching onto his brother with an iron-grip. Only his untameable, sea urchin hair poked out of the top of the blankets. Shou wheezed the closest thing to a laugh he could manage without aggravating his ribs. On the other end of the bed– someone Shou only recognised as the guy Shimizaki nearly killed– was starfished over both of them, barely covered in the wrinkled duvet he was wrapped in.

A lanky young man came into view and Shou zeroed in on him. He manoeuvred around the closely packed furniture, with a laundry basket balanced on his hip. Shou wrinkled his nose at the pretty ugly bear graphic on his sweatshirt.

He was padding around the apartment as quietly as possible, picking up clothing from the floor and placing it in his basket. It made Shou a little nauseous, the amount of blood on some of them.

Shou leaned in closer, nose nearly touching the window as he studied the man.

Absolutely no psychic power emanated off of him. Reigen didn't even have a visible aura, just the traces of someone who spent a lot of time with very powerful espers. But that just served to make Shou more confused.

Espers with as much power as Shou was convinced Reigen had couldn't suppress their auras to that degree. Shimazaki, Kageyama, even his own father– they could do nothing about the halo of pure psychic energy that surrounded them at all times.

But Shou was convinced he had to have some kind of psychic abilities. Otherwise, why would he have shown up at the Culture Tower and attempted to stop Ritsu's brother from fighting Shou's father? If he didn't have a way to defend himself, why did he try to go toe-to-toe with a man who could render him a stain on the floor, armed with only a small handgun? Kageyama could handle himself, even if he was losing to his father because he was too much of a saint to fight back. So why step in unless he's more powerful than the both of them?

Shou focused harder; there had to be something he missed. Some detail he had forgotten to look into that made this frankly weak looking guy make sense-

With a loud resounding thunk, Shou smacked his face on the window he was spying through.

He froze as a muffled squeak came from inside the apartment. The man he was essentially stalking had heard him and knew he was there.

Shou's instincts screamed at him to run. His rational brain wanted nothing more than to jump into the alleyway and hide from the man approaching the window who, for all he knew, could be double the esper his father was. But his body was so tired. For once in his life, Shou couldn't muster up enough energy to fight. Maybe it was the way his ribs ached with every breath, or how despite his open wounds all healing over with Kageyama's explosion of light, fresh blood still dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. And despite himself, maybe it was the relief in knowing that his father couldn't hurt anyone anymore and it didn't have to be through death. For all he talked of putting a stop to his father by any means necessary, Shou didn’t know if he could kill him. Even if that meant he lost.

Either way, Shou couldn't move from his spot slumped against the glass.

Reigen roved across his apartment slowly, picking up his TV remote and brandishing it like a weapon. Enough crazy shit had happened today and he would rather die than let anything else happen to the three boys crashing on his bed. Logically, he knew that if it was any of the nutjobs they ran into today, a remote and his own scrawny, tired body wouldn’t last in a fight. But he was ready to die on that tower for Mob, and that same protective adrenaline was still burning inside of him.

Stepping around the couch, Reigen set down the laundry basket under his arm. He wielded the remote in both of his shaking hands. The floors creaked as he prowled closer and he thanked his unbelievable luck that the kids were still fast asleep. Just as he raised the remote over his head, ready to strike, he got close enough to see through the window and-

And he sighed, nearly collapsing with relief. He was less relieved to see the little redhead boy from the Culture Tower slumped and unconscious on the windowsill, but anything was better than a Claw grunt coming to finish them off.

Reigen tossed the TV remote back onto the couch with the basket. He pushed open the window, holding out his arms as the boy nearly tumbled out.

“Woah-!” Reigen stared back at the boy’s wide, electric blue eyes. He braced himself on the window, gripping the frame with his knobby knuckles. Reigen tried to ease the tension in his trembling shoulders with an easygoing smile.

“Don’t you know spying on others is illegal, kid?” He said before he could stop himself. The boy wasn't deterred by his bluntness– in fact his expression hadn't changed at all. His piercing blue eyes shot holes into Reigen. Now that they were face to face in the light of his apartment, Reigen could clearly see the blood splattered all over his face. His stomach turned.

"Do you need help down?" Reigen subtly invited the boy in, trying for a gentle tone. He didn't move.

"Are you hurt?" He didn't even blink. Reigen swallowed the urge to groan, "You got brain damage or something, kid? C'mon in before I kick you out." He didn't mean to be so short, but it had been a long day and the weight of it all was making him a little high-strung. This kid's unwavering stare in place of any actual answer was grating on his nerves.

All of Shou hurt, a bone-deep soreness that couldn't be attributed to any visible injury. But, he couldn't admit that to anyone, especially not a potentially dangerous adult esper like Reigen. He shook his head and grit his teeth against the way the room spun.

Carefully, Shou lowered himself down from the windowsill, until his tattered sneakers hit the floor. He let his white-knuckle grip loosen, causing him to stumble back into the wall with a soft thump. A hiss escaped past his clenched teeth.

"M'fine," he slurred. He shoved his trembling hands deep into his pockets, "Jus' need a min- m'nute…"

"Uh-huh." Reigen scoffed, eyebrow raised. It made Shou want to punch him in his smart mouth.

Reigen sighed, "How about you sit down before you faint?"

Shou crossed his arms. The impact of his glare was hindered severely when he winced. Something twinged violently in his ribs.

"I said… I'm fine." His breath came out in bursts, exhaustion pulling at his wobbling knees, "Leave me alone. I don'-don't need your help…"

Shou leaned his head back to rest on the wall, closing his eyes. It soothed his nauseating headache and his vision stopped swimming for a moment.

"Well, at least I know you're well enough to sass me." Reigen's voice floated around in the blackness behind his eyelids. He walked away with soft footsteps. The distance between them eased a little tension in Shou's shoulders.

Shou cracked an eye open at the sound of a drawer opening. His eyes narrowed in on Reigen's hands on instinct, watching as he pulled something out of the tall dresser. He kneeled down to rummage in the bottom drawer, holding up clothing and checking the tags. This went on for a while; Reigen pulled out a shirt or pair of pants, checked the tag, glanced at Shou, then grimaced as he put it back. Eventually, Shou felt his eyelids grow heavier and he couldn't fight to keep them open anymore. Sounds fizzled out the longer he spent with his head ducked down and his eyes squeezed shut.

Something soft was shoved into his chest in the darkness and Shou gasped. His heart caught in his throat as he brought his aching arms up to block his face.

Except, no other attacks followed, and Shou was left reeling with the anticipation. He chanced a peek at what had startled him, finding a stack of clothes and a towel in Reigen's outstretched arm.

Reigen was giving him a weird look– eyebrows furrowed and eyes crinkled in a mock wince, mouth pulled into a deep frown. Shou's staring must have made him uncomfortable, because Reigen started to ramble.

He cleared his throat, "Uh- I got you a change of clothes. Y'know," Reigen's other hand started flopping around, landing on a thumb pointed over his shoulder, "So you can take a shower and stop tracking dirt all over my house." Sluggishly, Shou realised it must have been some kind of joke because Reigen was laughing, high-pitched and stilted. He scowled.

Shou's heart was still stuttering in his chest, adrenaline pumping with every short panicked breath he took. He pinned himself back to the wall, trying to get as far away from Reigen as he could without his knees giving out. His vision blinked out every few seconds.

None of this should be happening. Someone like Reigen shouldn't be helping him. It wasn't normal for an adult with as much supposed power as him to be here, speaking softly to Shou and trying to coax him into taking care of himself.

Maybe, Shou reasoned, he's trying to get my guard down. If I listen to him, he'll just double cross me. I mean, it wouldn't make any sense for him to be so nice to me. Shou didn't know why, but the thought comforted him a little. At least if he was tricked into thinking he was safe, he wouldn't be in uncharted territory anymore.

Reigen started sweating under Shou's glare. For a kid who looked like the wind could knock him over, Shou was incredibly intimidating.

"C'mon Suzuki, I'm not gonna bite." That broke Shou out of his one-sided staring contest. He ripped the stack of clothes out of Reigen's hands.

"It's Shou." He bit out, stomping across the apartment and shutting himself in the bathroom.

Once Shou had locked himself away in Reigen's dingy bathroom, he realised his mistake. He just trapped himself in a room with no exits, where he would be a sitting duck to anything Reigen was planning to do. If he was ambushed in here, that would be it.

With wheezing breaths, Shou encased the door with the strongest barrier he could muster. He braced himself on the counter, too occupied with the door to care about how it dug painfully into his back.

He waited there for a few minutes, carefully trained ears straining to make out any sounds outside of the bathroom. Once in a while, a floorboard would creak or blankets would shift and Shou's whole body would tense. It was agony, knowing something was coming and just waiting for it to happen.

Ten more minutes passed and Shou's barrier was starting to flicker away. His raised arms shook with exhaustion, but he couldn't let them drop. Not if Reigen was playing the waiting game, tiring him out before deciding to strike. Not if Reigen was going to barge in and reveal himself to be another Toichiro Suzuki.

Except– except, if he was just like Toichiro, why would he be here, watching over the Kageyamas and their blond friend? Shou's father hadn't ever shown that level of care, at least since Claw started getting big. Shouldn't he be on top of that weird broccoli tree, claiming the remains of Seasoning City for himself?

Irrationally, Shou wanted to believe in this idea; there was stability in someone he could hate, someone he could fight back against. Honestly, he didn't know what to do with being shown genuine kindness. It wasn't normal.

Again, his barrier wavered as his thoughts pooled around the fight with his father. Reigen had put his life on the line for Ritsu's brother, promising to protect him even when Toichiro was ready to kill them both. When he shut his eyes against the memory, all he could see behind his eyelids was Kageyama's subtly grateful expression. His trust that Reigen would take care of it. The way he relaxed for a moment, relieved at the sight of Reigen strolling up to a losing battle with the arrogance of someone who had the world in the palm of his hand.

This is so stupid.

Shou let his barrier fall as he slumped on the floor.

If Ritsu's brother trusts him, then that's going to have to be enough for me too.

It took a long time for the water to run clear, but eventually Shou had scrubbed all of the grime and blood (both dried and fresh) caked on his skin and hair. Now, under the lukewarm water spewing unevenly out of the dinky showerhead, Shou felt the full force of his exhaustion. He could have fallen asleep right there, leaning against the yellowing shower tiles. Instead, Shou got out and dried himself off, shivering against the stale, chilly air.

The clothes Reigen gave him definitely belonged to a kid, which surprised him. He didn't remember his guys telling him about Reigen having any children. The matching pyjama shirt and pants were adorned with cats, each with a speech bubble telling a horrible cat-themed pun. Their only saving grace was the fact that they were a peaceful blue, not unlike a certain best-friend's aura (which was quickly becoming Shou's favourite colour, incidentally). Shou wrinkled his nose at them, his cheeks growing warm with embarrassment at the thought of putting them on. If anyone caught him wearing these– god forbid if Ritsu saw these– he would die of mortification on the spot. He eyed the bloodied and ripped jacket he shucked off, but dismissed the thought of putting it back on. Reigen told him he was making a mess and Shou's stomach squirmed at the prospect of angering him.

Despite probably belonging to someone a few years younger than him, the pyjamas swallowed Shou's meagre frame. He floated a little to reach the small mirror hung up for someone much taller than him. As he poked and prodded at his ribs in his reflection, Shou realised just how prominently they stuck out. It was normal for Shou, but alongside the twinge in his stomach, he couldn't ignore it. He grimaced, trying to remember when his last meal was. Fukuda might have made him choke down a few spoonfuls of rice the day before he met up with Ritsu. He couldn't remember; Shou could barely keep the days straight in his head in this state.

At least his ribs weren't broken like he thought they were. They definitely cracked during the fight, probably when his father blasted him into a wall. Silently, he thanked Ritsu's brother, not for the first time that day. Before he healed everyone, Shou was sure he was going to die on that tower, with broken ribs and a few missing teeth to show for it.

He was paler than usual and his eyes were still a little unfocused. But, judging by how most of his dizziness had gone away and his head splitting headache was reduced to a low thrum, Shou didn't have a concussion. That stumped him, since Toichiro had fought him without mercy, incapacitating him to an extent that coming out of it without irreparable damage was shocking. Shou snorted; not like he hadn't tried.

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

Reigen paced around the apartment as quietly as possible. He couldn't stop, even when he kept bumping into the corner of his couch. Everytime he knocked his shins into something he froze, whipping around to make sure he didn't wake the kids. He was buzzing with nervous energy and continued his pacing anyways.

Reigen had been on his feet since they made the long trek to his apartment. The last few hours were spent cleaning up after the boys and watching them like a hawk, even after they had long since fallen asleep. It was irrational, but Reigen didn't want to shut his eyes for a second. The thought of leaving these kids vulnerable when he was supposed to be responsible for them again filled him with dread.

This was a different kind of restlessness now though; Shou was obviously tired and hurting and Reigen couldn't help but worry for him. He was even younger looking than Ritsu– shorter than Mob and with a frame so underweight, Reigen wondered if he was malnourished. Everytime he looked at the boy, Reigen's heart rate spiked thinking about what that meant for Toichiro. Yeah, beating up middle schoolers was awful, but a kid younger than that? Now that was deplorable. Seeing the small teen tattered and nearly falling asleep standing up left a sour taste in his mouth.

It took Shou so long to start his shower that Reigen wondered if he was even in the apartment anymore at all. Was he the one that could turn invisible? Reigen couldn't keep all these espers and their different powers straight. A few months ago he didn't even know espers other than Mob existed. He stopped his pacing, waiting for the water to start. After a few moments, the sound of his shower filled the silent apartment and he sighed with relief.

Eventually, Shou finished his hour-long shower. He finally creeped out of the bathroom and Reigen could see the full extent of his fatigue.

He limped across Reigen's cheap flooring, favouring one of his legs and walking stiffly, trying to move his hip as little as possible. An arm rested around his chest protectively; he was hunched over it and breathing shallowly, breath stuttering every few seconds as he rubbed circles into his ribs. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken and set wrong, and when he grimaced, Reigen spotted a few missing teeth. He really hoped they were baby teeth.

Reigen knew that if he looked, he wouldn't find any evidence of injury at all– Mob's powers took care of that. Where they failed however, was the details; broken bones set imperfectly or leftover pain where no cuts or bruises lie. He saw it in the kids already, when he looked them over for the source of their soreness. Teruki complained the whole way home about his chest, until Ritsu shut him up with his own grumblings about the twinge in his back. Mob was completely out of commission, barely able to keep his head up as they floated him to the apartment, but he too complained about various aches and pains in due time. But when he sat them all down after their showers, he couldn't find a single scratch on any of them.

The quiet rage that had been simmering beneath his skin since he met Toichiro on the Culture Tower was near impossible to set aside now. Reigen couldn't imagine the type of person you would have to be to see literal children as fair game to fight. That cold, merciless look in Toichiro's eyes– different, yet just as immature as the ones reflected in the 7th Division members'– set something dangerous aflame inside of Reigen. That same something that let him aim Sakurai's gun at another person without hesitation.

While Reigen seethed, Shou shuffled over to the couch. He tried to sit as far away from Reigen as possible, crossing his arms and eyeing him with blatant suspicion.

"Where does it hurt?" Reigen asked without preamble, "I've got painkillers, but I want to make sure nothing else is wrong before I give them to you. No concussion or anything, right? I don't actually know how to check for those…" He rambled, trying to fill the gap in conversation. Shou's heart pounded in his ears, and his mouth was wired shut. He didn't want to answer, but Reigen was getting more animated by the minute and each fast, sudden movement made Shou's want to scream.

"No." He stated, emotionless. Sweat gathered under his wet hair laying limp against his forehead.

"Oh, well, that's good then. Great. Let me just-" Reigen scrambled into a side room, emerging with a squat bottle of liquid medicine and a glass of water. He handed them to Shou, watching him expectantly.

The bottle of generic kid's painkillers was nearly full and obviously old. He could see a layer of dust on it and the label was yellowing with age. Shou tried very hard not to crinkle his nose at it.

"I know it's ah- not brand new or anything. But it's not expired! Don't worry, I checked." The smirk he sent Shou was not reassuring, which must be why he continued despite getting no acknowledgement, "Sorry, I just haven't had to buy medicine for kids in a little bit," he laughed, "Mob outgrew that stuff pretty soon, so I stopped stocking up on it."

"...How old do you think I am?"

Reigen paused. He wasn't sure what the right answer to this question was.

"Um… like ten? Eleven, maybe?" He said, tentatively.

This 'totally harmless' front Reigen was putting on was pretty convincing, because Shou contemplated throttling him for a moment before he caught himself.

He handed the bottle back to Reigen. It was probably– no, definitely– laced with something.

"No thanks." Shou's patience was growing thin. The urge to escape back out the window itched just under his skin.

Reigen blew out a long sigh, "Alright, guess we're doing this the hard way. No medicine." He ran a hand through his hair, "You hungry, then?"

He didn't wait for a response, already halfway to the side room (which Shou could now see was a tiny kitchen) that he got the medicine from. Shou sat rigidly on the edge of his seat, hands balled by his sides just in case. He was spring-loaded, ready for anything, like always.

The microwave beeped. Shou scolded himself for flinching at it.

Reigen was soon sitting in front of Shou on the coffee table. Once again, he handed Shou something he had long since learned to never accept.

Shou took the plate, staring down at the food Reigen reheated for him. The smell of barely seasoned rice and eggs, scrambled together haphazardly, attacked his senses. His hands trembled as he fought with himself to refuse it, just like the medicine.

He looked up at Reigen, venom in his voice betraying the shaky smirk on his face, "How do I know you didn't do anything to it?" He challenged. Reigen visibly paled.

"Wh- you think I'm trying to poison you?! What kind of person do you think I am?" He whisper-shouted.

Shou shrugged, "I don't know, you tell me." His stomach turned– whether from the nearly irresistable temptation of the food sitting in his lap or from the frustrated pinch of Reigen's face, he didn't know.

"Just eat, kid. You look like you're going to faint if you don't. I promise I'm not plotting to kill you– I can't believe I even have to say that." He said, exasperation clear in the way he buried his face in his hands. When that didn't convince Shou, Reigen moved to stand up. He might as well get some laundry done while the boy sulked.

Shou jumped back with a choked shriek. He threw up a bright orange barrier at the abrupt action, flinching away. Reigen sat down just as fast.

"Hey- hey! It's okay– look I'm sitting, don't worry just- kiddo, just calm down!" He babbled, hands up in a placating manner as he tried to reassure Shou. His teeth were chattering, but by the strain in his jaw, he was desperately trying to hide it. His eyes, wide as saucers, were trained on Reigen. The rest of his face was tense, trying to keep a mask of aloofness over his fear. It looked wrong on a face so young.

He kept rambling until Shou stopped tracking his hands with his eyes. The crackling barrier between them fizzled out soon after.

"Sh-shut up." Shou mumbled, voice shaking. He picked up his spoon and took a bite of the first full meal he's had all day.

"Woah- slow down! You'll make yourself sick!" Reigen exclaimed. Shou tuned him out, continuing to shovel mediocre rice and eggs into his mouth with reckless abandon. He barely took a breath between bites. Now that food was in front of him, the ravenous hunger tearing through him was making itself known.

Shou got up from the couch and mindlessly walked into the kitchen.

Reigen blinked, "Where are you going?" He asked dumbly. Shou could barely stand just moments ago, so why was he suddenly keen on stumbling around Reigen's apartment?

Shou rummaged through Reigen's barren fridge. He spotted the rest of the leftovers immediately, popping open the container and helping himself to its contents. He didn't even heat it up.

Alarms were going off in Shou's head; he was seriously pushing his luck acting like this. No matter how nice Reigen seemed to Ritsu's brother and how strangely accommodating he was being to Shou, there was no telling how much annoyance he would take before lashing out. But Shou couldn't help it– this newfound instability was like a rug pulled from under his feet and he needed something familiar to hang on to. And being a smartass was unfortunately very familiar to him.

"I'm getting more obviously." Shou grumbled in between bites.

"Please don't overeat. I am not cleaning up vomit tonight." Shou padded back into the main room, crashing on the couch and curling into the arm.

"Whatever, old man. I'm not g'nna barf…" He drifted off, finally giving into the tired itch behind his eyes.

He shook his head, suppressing a sigh. Slowly this time, Reigen stood again. He tip-toed around the apartment, searching for something to lay on top of Shou. Reluctantly, he nabbed one of the blankets he piled onto the boys. He hovered in front of Shou. Will he freak out if I tuck him in? He's kinda jumpy… Reigen thought. He didn't want to think of why the kid was so skittish– it was too late for that kind of rumination.

After a few awkward moments of shuffling, Shou started snoring and Reigen gave up. He threw the thin fleece blanket over the boy.

God, finally, they're all down. He scanned his apartment, chuckling softly to himself. How did I manage to become a temporary guardian to four kids? What the hell are their parents doing instead of watching their kids?

Reigen had asked after they found Mob if the boys all had somewhere to stay, which was met with a resounding (and reluctant, in some cases) no. Apparently, their houses had all been destroyed right before their attack on Claw. He decided to ask more about that later, unease settling in the back of his mind at Mob's faintly haunted expression. Teru skirted around the issue, but Mob chimed in absentmindedly that he lived alone and Reigen decided right then that they would all be staying at his place.

Suddenly, he realised that with the boys taking his bed and Shou passed out on his couch, there was nowhere for Reigen to sleep. Although, after the day's events, Reigen didn't even know if he wanted to. He settled into his squeaky desk chair, crossing his arms over his chest and reluctantly shutting his eyes.