mirdance

[mirdance]

[mirdance]

《Reciprocal food sharing in vampire bats》 Spawn 🐉x ascended🩸 Read from right to left

[mirdance]

Time for me to reblog this since the Teyvat Interlude just released

✨🙏✨

Innamorati

Summary: Darling, even though you might be shared amongst all the Fatui Harbingers, remember who you serve and where your loyalties lie. Remember who saved you. Where this ice rests in eternal sleep, the gods cannot hear your prayers. Only I can. Pairing: Pierro x Reader Rating: NSFW. Implied sexual content, yandere, emotional manipulation, mind games, referenced non-con acts, religious imagery

Notes: This is part of a Fatui Harbinger collab where each Harbinger shares a darling. As usual with me, there will be smut later. Shoutout to Sunnie who created this beautiful header.

Recommended Music. AO3.

Fools preach the joys of worship. Within the Celestia I saw why the gods do not communicate with open arms. That moment judgment forces you to recount what has sat at the center of your soul, pried away like a newborn's first cry, you'll not talk of joy.

Pierro flipped the page. Stains and tears lined the edges, only a reminder of the cycle which fell to all. Each carefully turned page, the sound of ticking, and your soft snores were the only sounds that sailed through the chilled air of his study. An unfinished game of chess sat on the table between you like a forgotten memory.

Sleep. A rarity for any of the Fatui. The moonlight trickled through the window behind him.  Cascading snowy shadows decorated the pages of his book. Though snow blanketed the landscape outside, the piles would never completely cover the ambitions of the Snezhnayian people. Like the weight of moonlit snow on pine branches, the soul held strength to endure.

What sort of things would you endure?

He’d thought the chess game before him would provide useful intel.  Games and toys were worthwhile if they were useful. Take a children's slingshot, for example. While entertaining for the young, it also served the purpose of teaching survival. Dolls taught young ones the art of conversation. Stuffed animals provided some substitute for the innate instinct of touch. A proper toy also served as a tool.

Taking the toys away or losing them also taught important life lessons.

But the so-called toy that sat before him had yet to elaborate on its gifts. Striving to hone one's abilities was one of the beauties and curses of human nature. For each of the Harbingers, a toy's survival differed. For Pierro, useless toys were unneeded. While many collect toys to sit and look pretty, his toys needed to provide.  

Another page.

"Who knows if the gods understand the greatness of the human soul, even while watching us prattle the secrets of our lives. Human suffering is a power in its own right, one they could never fathom. A god's memory reeks of apathy while treachery against the tormented lasts for generations. The people cry out in holy prayers--dirt embedded within the nailbeds of their crossed fingers--for rest. Yet Istaroth never provides the time for that peace, and prayers on one's knees only waste daylight. The cathedral words fade as a snowflake upon winter heaps until they are all but frozen as one beneath boot prints. Still, the gods demand that knee, as if they already didn't have the universe."

Another page.                                                                                                                   

Gusts of wind bellowed against the trembling window. Your eyes slowly opened and took a moment to process the setting like a mammal coming out of hibernation. Pierro continued reading while your brain and body took its time to catch up with being awake.

He'd spent hours playing chess with you. After all, the other Harbingers often put your body to its limits; it was only kind of him to provide you with what was probably a much-needed break. Falling asleep was not what he had in mind for that break, but he had a text to analyze, anyway. There was always something to do, and his toy didn't provide much usefulness in the things needing done.

Your upper lip moved in hesitation to permit words, an apology probably, but you quickly tightened your jaw. Some comrades did not enjoy being spoken to without speaking first. Pierro did not care unless the words were pointless. Of course, the meaning of words differed from individual to individual. What words a person provided told their story.

What was your story?

Words also provided layers like the blanketed snow above deadly ice above freezing waters. They veiled and masqueraded. Yet that, too, told a story in itself.

"The way you silence yourself reveals much of what you've had to endure," Pierro commented while flipping another page. "Speak freely with me unless I deem otherwise."

You bit your inner cheek and eyed the chessboard as if it would change design by sheer will alone. "Forgive me, but hearing you say that provides little comfort in this situation."

"I know we've gained little ground in terms of mutual trust, but what you provide for the Harbingers is paramount. In my presence, though, I've yet to see its fruition. Alone with me, you do not have to sit and look pretty, even if it is a pleasant side benefit."

You didn't bother with your next move even though it had been your turn before slumber reached. "Well," you croaked, testing the sounds against your alveolar ridge. "What book are you reading?"

"It’s the journal of a fallen soldier," he answered, which was not totally a falsehood. "A rather blasphemous book to many. Are you religious?"

You shrugged. "I suppose it depends on who's asking."

Smart. "I see. So, you are not religious. It seems we have something in common."

You shifted your legs. "That's a surprise, considering your loyalty to the Tsaritsa."

"Indeed. For her, I am devoted. One could see that in a religious sense depending on the perspective. Is there anything to which you are devoted?"

The chess pieces remained as thoughts circled your mind, reflected through your pupils. "Not anything I can think of at this time."

Bold. "Everyone is devoted to something, even if they do not see. Tell me, are you familiar with Mondstadtian theatre?"

You shook your head. Your eyes briefly flickered to his and back to the board again.

"For monarchs of old, royalty kept a court jester. Jesters had many vocations within their role. Comedic relief was one. The same goes for the jester of a play. Often these Fools would point out shortcomings within royal meetings or people and stories in humorous ways. Like a dance of death, teetering on offense yet accurate. The audience laughs, yet those with understanding know what lies beneath the surface of the hilarity. The Jester knows all, the story from beginning to end, as well as the enigmas of each character."

He flipped a page before speaking again.

"Some people might say the Fool not necessary for a good story. Why have a clown recite the story when the words are already presented to you in the form of dialogue"

He continued scanning his pages.

"Ah," you spoke. "Probably so the audience knows when they're being tricked and what they're up against. Maybe the interpretation is less convoluted that way?"

Interesting. "Some would view that as hand holding. If the Fool's words are even to be trusted, of course. Many a people make for unreliable narrators, and that includes Fools. Still, the importance of their position within the story is unlike any other."

"I didn't take you for the humorous type," you commented carefully, almost biting the words back as if you'd accidentally bitten your tongue.

He chuckled. "Maybe not, no.  I am not necessarily devoted to any sort of typical humor, but the role itself is fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"

You nodded.

Dialogue, the art of conversation, would pierce through you yet.

“To circle back to your inquiry. Ah, before that, tell me,” he ran his fingers through his beard. “Are you literate?”

You nodded.

He waited a few beats for you to elaborate, but no sound came. Still, being literate at all was a feat in itself. Just how literate were you was the question. He stood from his chair with book in hand and knelt beside yours.  With a flick of his thumb, his saved reading spot was open to your eyes.

“Care to join me in the pleasure of reading?” he inquired.  “You can go first.”

With a careful nod, you cleared your throat to begin. “Waylaying the plans of a god might seem prideful to those without ears to hear, but what would man say if that same god took the innocence of their child away?  I have reached the heavens, only to see a throne in name. The same throne that grants vision in the same breath that it snuffs them. Waning though I am, I can still remember the tiny fist of my daughter, stamping her knuckles against her game bored at her loss.  In the same way, gods demolish the board rather than admit their wrongdoing.”

You paused in thought.  The edge of your braid tickled his arm as you leaned to glean more of the book’s content. And then you spoke. “When I was a child learning to read, I remember my mother gifting me a fairytale.  The tale featured a bear that couldn’t fish.  Though the reading level was simple, the words confounded me.  After many desperate attempts, I threw the book against the wall.” A chuckle softly escaped your lips.  “My mother in the next room never even heard.”

“You seem to be doing fine now,” he noted.

“Yes, I’ve…had plenty of opportunity to study.  Not to mention that little me was also very determined to pick the book up off the ground the next day and try again.”

“Do you think the gods in this story similar to your dilemma as a child?”

You pondered the question. “While I’d need more context, I’d say the message the author is trying to implicate here is that the gods in this tale act more like petulant children rather than trying to learn or grapple an understanding of their creation.”

Pierro hummed in approval.  “Maybe the gods aren’t ignorant or weak as much as they are prideful.” Though every single being, including gods, had a weakness.  Felling a god proved difficult, but once fallen, it was a matter of destroying the remaining shades.

“I would say that is the downfall of many,” you replied as your eyes scanned more words on the page.  “But it could also be a strength, I think, depending on the context.”

Pierro shifted on his knees and beseeched you to elaborate.

“Well, taking pride in your accomplishments is one of the beauties that life affords us, I think.  Feeling proud for creating something nice or doing well. Those are normal human emotions.  With anything, it can become a burden if you allow.” You gestured towards your barely touched glass of wine.  “Like alcohol.”

“Are you not one for wine?  Or was it not to your taste?”

Your hands quickly gestured in disagreement. “The taste is delectable I just…have learned that having smaller amounts makes for more pleasant company.”

Or you were wary of what one might put in a drink, Pierro mused.  Not to mention that clarity was vital when dealing with Harbingers.  Not that Dottore kept such things in mind; wine was probably restful in comparison with whatever medications he played with. Pierro didn’t begrudge your slowness of drink.  On the contrary, having such mindfulness of your surroundings was endearing. 

“There is no need to worry.” He took one of your hands —cold to the touch— in his and rested it in your lap.  “I am more curious about your mind. While wine is certainly one way into a person’s mind, I would prefer yours to be unclouded.” Gaining trust without the help of alcohol proved more useful in the long run.

You did not push his hand away.  “My mind,” you whispered.  Your gaze fell to the side along with a chuckle that puffed from your dry lips. “Would you dissect me like Dottore?” Pierro chuckled in turn.  “Not physically, no.” “Why was I chosen to be here,” you quickly pleaded.  Your hand trembled slightly beneath his own.  “My talents are miniscule, even if all you people wanted was a fuck toy.”

Your brashness struck him as if you’d struck him with his book.  “Interesting.  So, you think you are nothing but a fuck toy.  Tell me, don’t you take pride in anything?”

“I used to.” Someday you’d elaborate without being prompted.  He was certain.  “What was something that you used to have pride in then?  If I might be so bold, I do not think it was chess.”

Now that caused a laugh.  “No, but it was something similar.  Fencing.  The sport.  Smallsword style.  It is often said that fencing is like chess at the speed of light.”

That was news to him.  Glancing at your arms and thighs, he could tell even through the fabric you wore.  One bicep protruded more than the other, and even with one eye he could see the shapely tone of your legs that drifted down the plush chair as gracefully as a ballet dancer.  While the sport itself was not one hundred percent in tune with combat abilities, it did prove useful for many instances.  Were you competitive?  Judging by the unfinished chess board, competition was not at the forefront of your mind. 

“Fascinating.  I have heard that such a sport is popular in Fontaine. Did it originate there as well?” He’d known the origins, of course, and he’d known that those origins were not the true origins.  As with most things of this world, beginnings were buried within the surface away from prying eyes.  To know the beginning would be to know the fragility of the world and its creators.  Perhaps some would think it best to keep such things buried beneath the dirt so that those who could abuse such knowledge kept away.

“The origins are a bit complex, but the sport derives from many different cultures,” you chirped, pulling your hand away from his and to your chest. 

Pierro encouraged you to go further.  He wanted, needed, to hear what you could put forth.  And as the words poured from your mouth, he was blessed with an output of excitement that slowly bubbled from your stomach to your esophagus to your tongue until it settled in the sporadic gestures of your palms.  Endearing could certainly describe the scene, but only time would tell if the joyful glint in your eyes was simply because you hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long. Either way, the passion you bestowed pierced the very air like a perfume.

During a pause, Pierro spoke up.  “Would you call yourself adept with the blade?”

The book had been long closed and set to the side, yet he still lingered by your chair’s side to follow your gestures and eyes.

A slow and steady grin graced your lips.  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’m awful. Sometimes I helped the local children.  There are many people better than I, though.”

“There will always be those that are better than we are, even with the things we are passionate about.  It seems, though, that perhaps this is something you could take some pride in, hm?”

You exhaled.  “Maybe so.”

Silence hung in the air with the unspoken; your arrangement did not provide you time for leisurely pursuits.  Pierro doubted many of his Harbingers allowed for such times.  He would find out, though, and with each piece of information he could understand where their mindsets lie.  This was especially important considering the unrest that trembled through the Fatui. The unease that came with death and ranks and betrayal.   

Pierro rubbed his thumb gingerly over the leather of his book, waiting to see if you’d continue your tantalizing speech. 

You did not.

Instead, your eyes fixated on the chess board.

Pierro gripped the book in his hand and lunged his arm forward toward your chest.  Surprise lined your features, yet your arm instinctively parried his attack to your right quarter.  As if on instinct, you riposte with your hand to his chest.  After a momentary victory grin, shock flushed your features; you stilled as frozen as a prey.  Your hand stayed resting on his chest, probably unsure of how to proceed.  Striking a Harbinger, whether a form of self defense or not, could be detrimental for you unless otherwise granted permission.  Perhaps you’d become so wrapped in the conversation that you’d forgotten where you were.

Which was the idea.

Pierro bowed his head slightly forward and gently pressed his hand over yours.  “It seems the touch is in your hands.  The point goes to you.”

Your hand quickly retracted; you held it to your chest.  “I didn’t know we were…sporting.  I apologize.”

He chuckled.  “Well, you didn’t seem interested in chess, so I figured the scene could use something you might be interested in.” “Why…” you stuttered.  Your brows knit together as your jaw clenched. “Why would you care about what I’m interested in?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Pierro replied calmly.  He leaned his elbow on the armrest of your chair.  “I’m interested in getting to know you.”

“Why.”

“Why does anyone want to get to know another?”

“To use them.”

“That could be a reason for some.  But aren’t we all using each other, then?  Even for love, comfort, contact, companionship.  Basic human needs. One works for his employer to feed his family. Another works to surpass his employer.  Each culture and society dictate which reason is more noble.  Do you find one more noble than the other?”

You shrugged.  “I don’t know anymore.  Most might say love or companionship.  But I…” You hugged yourself.  “Food. Less pain.  If that.  If I can get those things, I’d do anything.  Who gives a fuck about getting to know each other when I’ve hardly eaten in two days and my arms hurt from getting slung around?  The bruises haven’t even healed.”

You winced before Pierro could even blink, most likely expecting a blow that never came.  Pierro was not one to succumb to anger as easily as some of his Harbingers.  Your anger only opened you up more, made you more vulnerable.  In some ways, it was beautiful. 

He gently took your chin between his fingers and watched water form into droplets that welled from the corners of your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks.  He ran a thumb along one of the water trails and took a tear onto his thumb.  Your lower lip shook as you tried to bite back the emotions.  It had probably been many moons since you’d had a moment to allow yourself the time to anguish.  To grieve everything you had lost. 

“It’s okay to cry for now.  The range of human emotions knows no bounds, and you may not get the chance to mourn later.  But your basic needs.  I will provide them.  You will not be without food, shelter, or clothing.  You will not lose your life here.  In exchange, I need something from you.”

He continued wiping away the wetness of your face with the cuff of his sleeve. 

“Become a Harbinger.”

“What?”

“I cannot promise you complete safety or status.  But if you become my eyes, I can make things more bearable for you. All I need is loyalty and what comes with that.”

“That…that sounds too good to be true,” you croaked.  “I don’t really want to be a Harbinger…what does that even mean for me?”

“When you’re on duty with another Harbinger, I need you to report every single detail to me upon return.  You will receive a new name.  You’ll most likely stay within headquarters, but that does not mean you will not ever go out into the field.  This likely means bowing to their whims just as you do now.  Possibly more so since you will be their underling.  But along with your information comes my promise to provide you with more comfort.”

“So I’m just a spy?” You laughed.  “Just another tool?”

“Do you have any other choices?”

You frowned at the floor for a moment, catching yourself about to speak and then slamming your lips shut.  Pierro would allow you time, of course.  Not that you knew that.  It was easier to catch you in this moment than allow time to think.  Either way, you’d take the opportunity.  Pierro would probably do the same if he were in your shoes. 

“I’ll do it.”

“Well, then,” he softly grabbed your clenched hand and leaned to place his lips against your knuckles in a kiss. “Your partnership is appreciated.  Your name is now Innamorati, number twelve of the Fatui Harbingers.  Though we bow to her Majesty the Tsaritsa, never forget where your loyalties lie.”

Number twelve and traitor to them all.  Official ceremonies and authorization would be yet to come, but you didn’t need to know such things.  What mattered was the power of the mind, how you viewed yourself, your choices, and your duty.  All of which aligned with the stage he’d set to play.  While the physical chessboard sat dormant to the side, a more important one laid in the palm of the hand that held yours.

[mirdance]

Idk, have this

[mirdance]

I don't really post screenshots here, but I'm just now learning photo mode. It's hard! Meet my Durge, Brynn.

[mirdance]

Thinking about how the poor farmer leaving behind his bamboo hat for Xie Lian, and restoring his faith in humanity, parallels the way Xie Lian left behind the red umbrella for Hua Cheng and restored his faith in existence

Thinking about how both acts of small kindness saved two souls from ruin

Thinking about how both XL and HC later used those items to shelter each other

[mirdance]

A Ghost Fire's Kiss

Summary: Xie Lian was so drunk he could taste dirt through his nostrils. While combating his loneliness with alcohol, the pestering ghost fire appeared to ruin his w(h)ine session.

Tags: Mature, mentions of masturbation, alcohol abuse, Canon Divergence

Notes: Everyone is of age, don't think too hard about this. Picture this as taking place during any novel scene you wish. Have fun. I didn't really think too hard about WM vs HC vs timeline placement. I went mostly off vibes. If you want this to be WM, great. HC, great. My first published TGCF piece. Was supposed to be crack, ended up bittersweet

Part 1

Xie Lian was so drunk he could taste dirt through his nostrils.  Was plastered the proper term? He'd been around drunk nobles before, he wasn't a prude; he knew the terms! He could handle this much drink. He just had to get used to it. 

He took another swig out of the jar only for a singular drop to grace his tongue. The prior acrid taste turned numbingly bitter. No one had told him alcohol could make a person extra thirsty. Why didn't his Guoshi give him alcohol lessons? Sure, he didn't need them for himself! He wasn't going to ever drink alcohol (after this). But being knowledgeable was always a good thing, right? You never knew when the knowledge might be useful!

Like the one time he'd found a kitten in the gardens, and it was so small that it couldn't feed itself, so he learned to bottle feed it and care for it and warm it. His father was none too pleased, but his mother convinced him it was good to be able to take care of something small if one wanted to take care of a kingdom. And that knowledge was useful later when he found abandoned kittens when the war ravished...

He tilted his alcohol back. Well, where the fuck did nursing kittens bring him, now? 

"Where are the kittens, now," he cried to the empty sky. 

Nowhere. He hadn't seen a kitten in years. 

The sky had the audacity to glare down in its bright glory, not a cloud to be seen. Mu Qing and Feng Xin used to lie down with him on the grass, pointing their small fingers upward to create stories and shapes amongst the clouds. Giggling that they'd fly up there together and see if the clouds felt as soft as they looked. 

Now, even the animals in the clouds had left him.

He wiped his forehead with his arm; his fingers tingled from the alcohol coursing through his system. There were better places to lie down and rot, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. The only thing he could find was that his chest was warm, his knees were warm. How could knees even be warm? He slipped his robes off his shoulders and bared his chest to the sky. Who was going to tell him that alcohol made one so warm? His cheeks heated as the intensity crept throughout his thighs. He inhaled sharply as his fingers lightly drifted lower over his...

He yelped. 

He wasn't a prude! He'd already screwed up his cultivation in so many ways, what was having an erection? He should proudly show it to the sky. Fuck you for making him like this, sky. 

He covered his eyes behind an arm. Who would have told him that alcohol could also make you... like that ? 

So so so unbearably warm. 

His other hand ghosted his stomach, muscles twitching under every light touch. Goosebumps peppered his skin. 

Before he could touch himself further, leaves rustled. Xie Lian jolted to a sitting position and drew his...well, he drew his alcohol bottle. 

"Who's there? Can't I even do this in peace?"

Before he could guess if it was perhaps a terrified rabbit, a small ghost fire poked its head (ghost fires didn't have heads, but Xie Lian could definitely imagine it.) from around the forest clearing. 

"What do you want now?" Xie Lian collapsed backwards once again. "What are you, going to watch? Pervert." 

The ghost fire stared in silence. 

Xie Lian rested the bottle between his lips, drinking from empty air. "You know," he stated, rolling over on his side to converse with the ghost fire. His tangled hair fell forward around his naked collarbone.  "People used to want me. Pine after me. I never understood it. The Crown Prince of Xianle, a beauty to behold. People would cross cities to take a glance. But you know something?"

The ghost fire didn't answer. 

Xie Lian gestured around with his alcohol. "Where did beauty get me? Eating dirt. No one wants me now."

The ghost fire floated a little towards the whining prince. 

Xie Lian laughed. "Do you pity me? Go away, shoo." 

Go away before it's too late for you, too. 

The ghost fire did not go away. In fact, it drew closer until it hovered over Xie Lian's half naked form.  Xie Lian's vision blurred as the corners of his eyes filled with water.  

"I'll disperse you," Xie Lian angrily murmured. 

The ghost fire hung over his shoulder now, the edges of the flames kissing Xie Lian's neck. He shivered at the contact, as if a ball of snow so cold scorched his skin. 

"Fine," he grumbled, shifting his weight so his back rested against one of the many dilapidated stones in the area. "If you want to watch this one, then be my guest."

He brought the wine to his lips only to finally remember he'd drunk everything. His tongue flicked across his cracked mouth. If only this ghost fire could fetch him water. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Xie Lian's body continuing to feel thirstier and thirstier, the cloudless sky doing nothing to help, and the chirping cacophony of wildlife melding into background noise as the ground seemed to spin and rock. The coolness of the ghost fire helped ground his breathing.

"Why haven't you moved on, little flame," he murmured, bringing his fingers up to caress the flame on his shoulder. "I don't have anything to..." 

His vision brightened as his lips chilled like frost. The ghost fire clung to his face. Was this ghost fire trying to eat him? 

"I'm not..." He'd wanted to say that the poor fire wouldn't be able to consume him well in that state, but as Xie Lian opened to speak, cooling sensations reverberated throughout his chapped lips. 

He didn't know whether it was trying to consume him or kiss him. However, it was pretty sad to think of it as a kiss, wasn't it? Was he finally losing his mind? His first kiss with a ghost fire? Well, his cultivation techniques taught him to be wary of the wiles of women, and the ghost fire didn't exactly have a gender. That he knew of. Did this even count as a kiss? 

He moved his parted lips in rhythm with the chill fire that caressed him. He was so, so thirsty. Heat inflamed his ears and dropped down into the depths of his chest. He didn't know whether he was seeking to cool down or to be engulfed. 

The ghost fire shifted to his cheek, almost as if it were snuggling. Xie Lian giggled as it glided to his neck and peppered him with chilly nudges. Along his jaw, his clavicle. 

"This little ghost fire is brave today," Xie Lian muttered.  "I'll allow it." 

The ghost fire hesitated at first but ended up taking the permission too seriously. Almost every part of Xie Lian was touched, his ears, his forehead, his shoulders, even his elbows. It moved to his chest and slid down to his stomach. Xie Lian gasped with a half laugh/half groan. 

"That tickles," he breathed. That seemed to egg the fire on because it worked harder with its floaty ministrations, sparing no mercy for Xie Lian’s bare waist, zipping all around like a dragonfly over a pond.

Xie Lian rolled onto his back and clutched his sides as tremors wrecked his body. "Please, I'm going to die, it's too much." 

The empty alcohol bottle had been long forgotten, rolling away from the laughter, glistening in sun, finally free. 

Once the ghost fire paused, Xie Lian's breath came in ragged huffs as his chest heaved. "That was very mean." He inhaled as a grin danced on his face.  "It looks like I'm going to have to return the favor." 

Of course, when he went to tickle the ghost fire, it just floated there. Xie Lian could almost see it tilting its head like a questioning dog. 

For some reason, the lack of response made him feel incredibly lonely. He hung his head and dropped his hands to his sides, curling in on himself. What was he doing? Out in the wilderness, drunk off his ass, fraternizing with ghosts? 

He sighed. "Couldn't you at least pretend?" 

The ghost fire hurried toward his cheek and rested there. Xie Lian couldn't stay upset at it for too long with the onslaught of nuzzling. After all, it had helped him cool down. Momentarily, he had been able to forget everything.

Sometimes, that's all one could ask for. 

"Thank you," he whispered. 

The ghost fire couldn't answer, but in the soft breeze that trickled from Xie Lian's hair to the twittering branches and leaves behind them, a whisper susurrated alongside the wind. 

Wait for me. 

[mirdance]

New tie im obsessed with

The tutorial is from The Dutchy, tbh all of there pictures, tutorials, and rope courses are amazing

[mirdance]

I like to imagine Hua Cheng showing off in the water b4 sauntering up to Xie Lian like an alluring mermaid and postering for a kiss

[mirdance]

I think part of the reason I’m so obsessed with MXTX’s works is the way that each story seems to hold you gently as say “Your kindness mattered. It didn’t alleviate the suffering, it did not undo the pain. But your kindness mattered.”

Kindness could not erase Luo Binghe’s abuse, but it changed the story into a kinder one.

Kindness did not stop Wei Wuxian’s death, but it did save a-Yuan.

Kindness did not undo Xie Lian’s suffering, but it renewed his sincerity to help others.

Kindness did not change the entire world, but it helped create a softer future.

Its such a nice message, that maybe kindness will not protect you, maybe you don’t see the outcome of it, but you should still try to be kind, and I love that honestly.

[mirdance]

[mirdance]

I doubt anyone follows this blog anymore, but I'm finally working on Part 3 of "How Could Anyone Love a Beast?" For Lumine x Xiao a/b/o.

Sorry for edging everyone since 2022, life is hard.

Feel free to check Part 1 and 2 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39721575/chapters/99443520

[mirdance]

Spiritual energy exchange <3

[mirdance]

The Stellagrapher

[mirdance]

I like to imagine Hua Cheng showing off in the water b4 sauntering up to Xie Lian like an alluring mermaid and postering for a kiss

[mirdance]

Don't ask why I made this at 2am for my gf

Featuring Only Chrollo to the OP of Sgt. Frog

[mirdance]

Of Monsters and Fudge

Shadow Monster x OC

Rated: PG or PG-13 (there is a make out scene) extremely brief mention of animal abuse, it's not a focus at all. The story is fairly comedic.

Background: I wrote this draft for my stepmom for Christmas. I had to hold back and not write smut. So there will be smut at some point in a different feature. It's original work, so if you enjoy it, please share. 🙏 If you like monster romances and sarcastic monsters who enjoy pop culture, this is for you!

...

Teri had hoped for a dark and stormy autumn day to avoid going out for the evening. Unfortunately, the sun's rays beamed softly, dancing across the bronze gates that led to one of the many alleyways downtown. The old pizza parlor’s rusty sign thudded against the red brick wall in the gentle breeze. Most downtowns in the Midwest looked similar. Nonetheless, the familiar smell of bread from the bakery, the sound of shoes on cobblestone, the river’s rhythmic waves, and the boring historical signs decorating the old Pentecostal churches made the place feel like home.

She clutched a package of warm fudge. The heat wrapped her fingers like a blanket against the chill autumn wind. Once a year, she could be found making this same trek, holding the same type of peanut butter chocolate fudge from the local bakery. It was probably one of her top ten least favorite times of year, but the town’s fate supposedly depended on that fudge, so she begrudgingly bought it with her meager paycheck every time.

On Halloween, it was said that the spirits of the dead came closer to the waking world to visit their loved ones. People often laid gifts or flowers on memorials to honor their deceased. However, this sacrificial fudge wasn’t meant for any typical spirit. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what that thing was, but it claimed to be an otherworldly beast hellbent on destroying the town. Upon first seeing the shadowy creature, she’d instinctively done the only thing she could: thrown the packet of fudge she was holding at it in self-defense. And that’s how their mortal-immortal friendship began.

That was five years ago. He still didn’t have a name, nor did he desire one, despite her best efforts to convince him. If she had to adopt a local monstrous being, she at least wanted to name it. From their conversations, she’d gleaned that he enjoyed masculine pronouns, so she stopped calling him "it." Alas, she couldn’t uncover any history about him. There weren’t any local legends about this boring town, and he refused to talk about himself. The only things he wanted to discuss were pop culture, YA novels, and fudge. He claimed he could only remain in this area and only materialized once a year.

Teri took a deep breath and turned into one of the many alleyways hugging the dilapidated shops. It was still too early for trick-or-treaters or unruly teens looking for a place to smoke and tell scary stories. Halloween was one of the few days people roamed downtown, so she tried to arrive early in hopes of leaving quickly. That probably wasn’t happening, considering she was the only source of conversation this monster had all year.

She stopped beside an empty dumpster and leaned against the brick wall. Even after her short walk, the sun had begun to glow pink and orange. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly the skies darkened this time of year.

Moments later, the sky grew darker still, and a breeze whipped around her, pulling the hood of her hoodie back. She closed her eyes and waited for him to finish his grand entrance. When the wind died down, she opened her eyes. The skies had cleared, save for the shadowy blob now materializing before her.

He spoke. “Must we always meet beside a dumpster? This is hardly the place for conversation.”

“You say this every year, and every year, we decide this is the best spot. It’s discreet and gives us the most time to talk. I can’t help that the buildings are falling apart more each year.” She had suggested other locations before, but he always declined. On the one occasion they’d gone for a walk, he’d refused to cross downtown’s border. She suspected he couldn’t leave this part of town.

He hummed in agreement. “Indeed, as right as always. Let us cut to the chase, then. Show me the sacrifice.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Here’s your peanut butter fudge, still fresh.” She held it out, and the shadow quickly snatched it, drawing it into himself. To any onlooker, it would have appeared as though a dark dust cloud was holding a floating package.

The white wrapper unraveled, and a small bite disappeared from the fudge. “Amazing, though it tastes a tad different this year. I wonder if they changed the type of peanut butter?”

“I didn’t think to ask,” she replied honestly.

“No matter—it’s still wonderful as always. What news do you bring me? The pizza parlor shut down, so I can’t even watch my shows through the window anymore.”

She’d mentally made an outline of topics to discuss throughout the year.  When he stated news, he didn’t really mean anything politically charged.  He wanted gossip, popular genres, tropes, and such things she’d expect out of a teenager.  “Well, the Withersons got a divorce.”

“No, they were such a cute couple,” he exclaimed after another bite.  “I frequently saw them walking around, hand in hand.  What changed?”

“I think murdering her cats probably dampened the mood,” she replied.

“No,” he gasped. “And why would he do such a thing? I mean, I’ve murdered quite a lot of people in my time, but never cats!”

“I think it was an accident, he ran over it or something, but when they adopted another kitten, it also died under mysterious circumstances, so she ended up leaving.”

“You don’t have any other details?  What are these mysterious circumstances?”

She shrugged.  “That’s all I was able to gather, sorry.  I figured I would update you since you liked to stalk their dates.”

“What else am I supposed to do out here?  They took my TV.”

“Pretty sure you were stalking them even when you could watch TV.”

 “Well, yes, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

She mentally questioned his status as a scary powerful monster for the umpteenth time.  “On that note, I did bring you a book.  I know you can’t touch it once you go back, but I could stop by once a week to read a chapter aloud if it’s to your tastes.” The words left her mouth reluctantly, but part of her couldn’t help but pity his loneliness.  Especially since they took away his TV.  She held out the book to him. 

The shadows danced as he gently took the book.  “I had never thought of that, that is a brilliant plan.”  The book was turned over and over in the air, the pages seemingly thumbed through by magic.  “Hm, this seems like an older book.  And vampires?  Aren’t vampires out of style right now?”

She couldn’t even be offended; it was a cringy book.  “Yes, this was my favorite book as a teen, but it’s still good.  Vampires are always in.”

“I think you are looking through a lens of nostalgia.  From the conversations I've heard in passing, it seems monsters are in,” he stated with an air of superiority. “Well, monsters other than vampires. Nonetheless, I appreciate the sacrifice of your time. Throughout generations, vampires are always coming and going, so it’s a classic that never gets old. However, I hope you will take my tastes into consideration.”

He was needier than any animal she’d ever owned. What was he going to do when she aged?  God forbid she must live in a nursing home and he not get his fudge or entertainment.  Perhaps at that point, if he destroyed the town, she’d no longer care.  “Of course, I’ll take your tastes into consideration next time.  I didn’t think monsters would be your sort of stitch.  Monster romances are all the rage currently, if you must know.” Wouldn’t it have been courteous not to bring up romance to a being that could only walk around semi-freely once a year?  Oh, well. 

Silence stretched between them. 

“I do enjoy staying current,” he said at last. “It’s what keeps me young. Back in my day, monsters ate people, and what are they doing now? Kissing each other? Weren’t romanticizing vampires enough? Do people have no respect for nature’s powers?”

Great. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. He could complain all he wanted, but she knew he would love this crap, and she was too mentally exhausted to philosophize generational tastes in the amount of time they had, even if it were an interesting topic. “Perhaps they found reading about eating people boring and wanted to up the stakes a notch, I don’t know. Like you said, tastes are always changing, maybe humans will be eating monsters in fifty years.”

The shadows quivered as laughter boomed in the crisp air.  “I’d like to live to see that.  Tell me more, though. I want to know your favorite monster romance novel.”

“Well, the one you're holding was my favorite growing up.”

He threw it back to her, and she thankfully caught it. “Vampires don’t count,” he scoffed. “I want to know. Do people date mummies? Do they kiss zombies? What sort of monsters are trending?”

She stifled a sigh.  “It’s not my expertise.  I’ll have to do more research.  Was there a particular book you heard about that you’d like me to investigate?”

He hummed in thought. “No, I couldn’t hear them discussing any titles, unfortunately, only something about Mothman.”

She nodded.  “Yes, Mothman is pretty popular in media, though I’m not familiar with any novels featuring him.”

“And people want to kiss him?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why?”

“It’s not my thing, but I assume that people are so tired of men that monsters seem appealing.”

He laughed.  “When men go around murdering cats, I could see why monsters are appealing.”

Said the monster who often claimed he had a high murder count and threatened to annihilate the town.  “You aren’t wrong.”

The fudge hadn’t even been eaten halfway.  He was truly taking his sweet time.  She placed the book back in her bag to keep it safe from throwing shadow hands.  The next topic on her agenda was local celebrities, one gal had auditioned for a drama and was cast as the side character.  A pretty big deal for a small town, but before she could gather her words, the shadow cleared his throat.

“We could, you know, try kissing if you wanted,” he declared.  “It would be an honor for a mortal to kiss one as old as I, and you’d get to experience something all of these Mothman fans never could.”

She blanked.  The audacity of this thing.  He wasn’t even Mothman, hell, he didn’t even have a name!  He wasn’t famous at all, and even if he were, how the heck would it be an honor?  “How in the world would we do that?  You don’t even have lips, you’re a shadow.”

“Ye of little imagination.  Live a little, don’t you like to experiment?  Is this why no one has wanted to date you all these years?”

She desperately wanted to throw a rock at his nonexistent face, but after years of having a peaceful coexistence with him, she still felt it best not to piss off a possible Eldrich being.  “And how would you even know?  Maybe I’ve been on a few dates this past year.”

 He snorted.  “Unlikely.  I see you running about after your job and going straight home.”

“I appreciate you keeping tabs on me, truly,” she replied sarcastically. 

“Like I have mentioned before, what else am I supposed to do but wait for you to come back? You humans are the only entertainment I have, and this town isn’t even as bustling as it used to be. Perhaps I should destroy it after all.  I could finally be free to roam about as I please.”

This was useful intel.  Perhaps a curse of some sort forced him to stay in one location.  The tantrum, however annoying, was honestly understandable.  “Though I empathize with how much loneliness can hurt, I don’t think I could ever have the capacity to imagine loneliness for as long as you have.  I’m sorry.” 

He stopped munching on his fudge as the shadows twitched.  “I am not lonely.  That is a human emotion I could never understand.”

“Says the one who wanted to kiss me earlier.”

 “I never stated that I wanted to kiss you, I was simply offering so I could experience what is popular and keep up with the times.”

How romantic.  “If you don’t want to kiss me, then we won’t.  I’m not sure how it would work, anyway.”

 “As I have stated, no imagination in that head of yours.”  He sighed.  “I won’t kiss an unwilling participant.”

She stared at him for a moment then peered over him towards the evening sky.  It was like being in front of a talking storm cloud. What would he do?  Just touch her mouth with a part of his cloud shadows? 

“I’m willing.  Go ahead and try to kiss me.”

“There is no try. I will.” 

The sky darkened as the shadow grew and the air chilled.  Momentarily, she was struck still, frozen as tendrils of shadow reached for her arms.  They slid around her forearms and up to her shoulders.  Her skin almost felt wet, and the back of her neck dropped in temperature. She raised her arms in hesitation, unsure of where to put them. The shadow tendrils were icy as they gently held her, as if she were hugging in a walk-in freezer. 

She couldn’t speak as she opened her mouth.  A cold puff touched her lips, like kissing snow.  She puckered her lips but felt nothing solid, only a misty puff of air that circulated over her mouth.  A few people laughed in the distance; as she squinted, she could hardly see anything, in addition to the romantic cover of the dumpster blocking her view. 

“Do you always keep your eyes open when you kiss,” the shadow mocked.

“No, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to even do at this point, I’m just kissing the air.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say; the wind carried a howl that made the hair on the back of her neck alert. She could hardly inhale as the wind cut her face, and her mouth was, what she assumed, being kissed again due to the misty air chapping up her lips.  She raised her arms and placed them awkwardly against the shadow as she attempted to reciprocate whatever the hell was going on. 

A few seconds later, the wind died down, and what little sun was left warmed her clammy skin. She took a deep breath to fill her dying lungs. No one spoke for a bit as she caught her breath and wiped her forehead. She had expected her skin to be as misty as it felt, but it was left dry.

“Hm,” the shadow hummed.

“Really,” she asked, aggrieved.  “Is that all you have to say?”

“That was quite embarrassing,” he retorted.  “Your skills need work.”

She was going to murder him.  “You could write a book about exactly the sort of things you should never say to a woman.”

“I heard communication is important in any relationship, so I do my best.”

“I think you need to lay off the pop culture, you are as sarcastic as they come.”

“You will never meet a more sincere being,” he replied. “But perhaps if you bring a more appropriate book next time, we could learn a few tricks.’

Yeah, surely she was going to find ‘How to Make Out with your Local Shadow Monster’ at the library.  “I will do my best.”

“Of course you will, I’m sure you will never have a better experience…wait.” The shadows moved haphazardly, as if looking around.  “My fudge.”

On the ground beneath the shadow lay a halfway eaten package of fudge, face down. 

“Looks like someone got too into kissing me,” she stated, bending down to pick up the dirty fudge.  “Do you still want it?”

“The audacity of this woman,” he mumbled. “Of course I don’t what it. You’ve ruined the sacrifice.”

Shit, shit, shit. Shes till had a book to finish at home. She couldn’t let the town be destroyed just yet.  “The shop closes in…” She checked her phone.  “Ten minutes.  If I hurry, I can pick up something.” 

“No need,” he responded. The package of fudge floated from her hand and landed in the dumpster with a loud bang that made her jump.

 “The kiss sufficed,” he continued.  “I look forward to next year’s sacrifice. Oh, of course, I’ll see you a week from today, same time.  Bring a book that’s actually worth reading.”

With that, the shadows vanished into the sunset, punctuated by the distant screams of trick-or-treaters. She wasn’t really sure if it was his time to leave, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  As she walked away from their private alley, her ears flushed, and every shadow she came across bored into her, making her question if she’d ever had a moment alone.