mirdance

[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.

[mirdance]

[mirdance]

remembering arlathan.

[mirdance]

so um.. hands huh..

[mirdance]

Huh! I sincerely feel like I draw them being soft for each other constantly. Maybe I have a different definition of soft, LOL.

Either way, I had this sketch lying around that I decided to finish at your behest, I hope you enjoy!

[mirdance]

A Walk Home

Pairing: Vampire x fem!reader

Tags: stalking, obsession, light NSFW thoughts, autumn vibes

Summary: Just a vampire who has been pining over you for many years.

Thank you to the commissioner!

In that part of town, along the winding buildings, a rustic brick road cracked and gave way to unmanicured weeds and bushes. He hadn’t noticed until recently the red of the cobblestone dulling over the years, as one tends to only think of the good ol’ days, even in the most mundane of things. The good ol’ days—a subjective opinion based on one’s past, thanks to the lens of nostalgia.

And what were the good ol’ days to you?

You, the one who could clip a plant from private property with no remorse, only remembering manners once the shopkeeper scolded you. You, who had been so enamored by the beauty of that plant that you’d momentarily forgotten all propriety.

He couldn’t remember the plant or the shop. To be fair, your succulent hands had been a terrifying temptress, tiny scrapes decorating your knuckles like glaze.

That was about eight years ago when he first saw you. To this day, he still dreamed of kissing the back of your hand and grazing his tongue against your skin.

He stopped in front of an empty shop with a dilapidated "Closed" sign hanging crookedly on the glass door. The bushes that lined the building were nothing but twigs swaying in the autumn breeze.

You’d ended up working in a nearby antique shop, constantly on the verge of shutting down, as those stores tended to do. The products weren’t even that old, but you’d tell their stories every time someone inquired about them. Not that he remembered any of the stories. After centuries of living, all stories ended up sounding similar and blurring together. However, your animated hands would sometimes gesture so wildly that you almost knocked over the products you were so passionate about, and that was worth remembering.

Red leaves blew across the cobblestone in front of your store, a natural frame for the setting orange sun above. He had just missed being able to visit the shop by five minutes.

“I’m sorry! We just closed. If there’s something specific you want to see, I don’t mind opening for ten more minutes.” Your voice rang against the chilly evening as the bells on the door sang with you locking it. 

“No need. I was just taking a stroll since the weather is cooperating. I’d hate for you to work late just because of me.”

You placed your keys in your bag, one you painted with flowers and ladybugs, and grinned politely. “Yeah, and the owner would probably scold me. Labor laws and all that. But I’d think about it for one of my favorite regulars.”

The leaves rustled beneath your feet.

To be honest, he didn’t know the last time he even thought about labor or laws or combining the two. However, he laughed along with what appeared to be a joke. “Well, we definitely wouldn’t want to break the law. I hope you haven’t been working too hard these days. You’re sounding a bit under the weather.”

You waved him off. “Not at all. Just the changing seasons and all that. I love autumn, but my body doesn’t.”

Your body. He glanced at your hands, one gently resting atop your bag. Comfortable.

“It’s getting late, and I shouldn’t keep you,” he said.

“Please don’t worry. I always enjoy our conver…” You sneezed into your arm.

He quickly stripped off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. “You should dress warmly during the changing seasons. It’s not good to shock your body with different temperatures.”

“I know; it was just so warm earlier I didn’t think about it getting cooler later. Thank you for this, but you’re going to need it.”

You began taking off his coat until he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Please,” he begged softly. “It would be inconsiderate of me to allow a lady to be underdressed in the cold. If you’re comfortable, I would be happy to walk you home. Otherwise, I’m sure I’ll visit the shop again this week… I would hate to intrude on your peaceful walk with my babbling.”

You grinned and shrugged into the coat. “I don’t live far. My therapist said I needed to make more friends, anyway.”

And what did a carefree creature like you need a therapist for? It wouldn’t be an appropriate question, but there would be plenty of time for the deeper reflections of life soon enough. He gestured for you to lead the way, and you began walking side by side. “Your therapist is right. It’s good that you’ve found someone who supports your emotional needs.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know about that, but they help in some ways.”

He took a moment to listen to the way your shoes brushed against the leafy sidewalk, lighter and more haphazard than his own. “Well, if you ever need a listening ear, I’ve heard I have pretty decent skills.”

“I appreciate that. I’m okay; I just needed some coping strategies to deal with work-life balance.”

“You do indeed work a lot,” he replied. “What sort of strategies have you learned? Maybe I could benefit. I tend to overwork myself.”

A lie, of course. He wouldn’t be caught dead—or undead—overworking. There was plenty of time to get everything done, and anything that needed an immediate response simply wasn’t worth his time and effort.

You hummed an “uhm” for a moment while he edged closer, mimicking the way you stepped over the cracks in the pavement. The streetlights flickered to life as the sun gradually lowered, casting a dim glow that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. He was glad to see the sun falling. He wasn’t too terribly sun-averse, but it did make his skin itch.

“Well,” you started, “learning to manage time, setting boundaries, focusing on health, taking breaks, asking for help when you need it. I think I struggle with asking for help a lot, especially in my line of work.”

He nodded. “You do seem to be working alone quite a lot. I could see how it would be a challenge for you to ask for help. However,” he ever so gently brushed his shoulder against yours and grinned, “you decided to let me help you keep warm on the way home, so that’s a start.”

He would have to procure more ways you’d need to ask for his help.

“I...I suppose I did,” you replied, tugging the coat closer to yourself. “It smells great. What cologne do you wear?”

He wasn’t a huge fan of cologne or perfume, but he’d heard you enjoyed floral smells while listening in on a work conversation, so he became something of a connoisseur. “Birch and lavender. I can’t remember the brand, but I was drawn to the description. It described it as morning light through the swaying branches. To be honest, I’m not an early riser, so I thought perhaps I could experience morning in a different way.”

Your laughter felt thick in the gathering dusk, a sound that echoed back to him, taunting and sweet. You brought your nose to the fabric and inhaled. If he were less composed of a being, he would have either collapsed on the spot or grabbed you by the collar and inhaled your scent until he carved his teeth into your tantalizing neck. However, wine needed to be aged sur lie, and he had plenty of time to taste you.

“I’m not sure if it smells any more morning than anything else, but it smells nice,” you responded.

“Thank you. It makes me happy that you enjoy it.” And now, he thought, you would smell like him until you showered next.

As you walked, the evening air grew thicker, the shadows lengthening around you. A smile graced your lips as you held his coat close, and oh, if only it were his arms pulling you close, but indirectly would suffice.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice above a whisper, breaking the silent air. “I was a little nervous earlier, but not so much now. I have enjoyed talking with you.”

You turned to him, delight flickering in your eyes. “Is that so? I’m glad, though I’m not too exciting of a person.”

"Excitement is subjective, isn’t it? I’ve seen a glimpse of your passion for the things you love. Do you find me boring for enjoying similar things?”

You waved your hands. “No, sorry if it seemed that way. You’re right. Everyone has different enjoyments, and I’m always glad to have you in the shop to listen to me babble.”

He chuckled. “Of course, the pleasure is mine.” He could only dream of the vibrations your neck would emit across his lips as you spoke. Getting you to talk about your passions was easy, but could he make you babble incoherently until you were singing his name?

You slowed your pace, and he matched it effortlessly, the rhythm of your steps becoming a slow dance as you neared your home. He was in no hurry to fill the silence; the sound of your feet pushing aside the leaves and the shuffling of your shoulder as it occasionally brushed against his was enough to fill his soul.

He stopped in front of your home before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know where you lived. Fortunately, you didn’t seem to notice. You paused in front of him, hesitancy filling your gaze as you awkwardly clutched at his coat.

“This is my stop. Thank you for walking me home. Hopefully you didn’t get too cold.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against the cool night air. He was suddenly very glad he’d fed the night before, as his skin would often chill between meals. He would have hated to force you to be even colder. As he leaned in, the scent of lavender and autumn leaves enveloped him. He took a shuddering breath as he gently pulled his coat from your shoulders.

“Not at all,” he stated assuredly, folding the coat over his arm. “I’m a cold-loving creature. My coat is always ready for you if you need it.” Of course, he’d be wrapping himself in it that night under the gaze of the moon and whatever god judged him from above.

“I appreciate that. You know,” you said, your voice low, “I’ve always heard the best connections are made during the night.”

He almost choked on the air as his gaze lingered longingly on your face. “I’ve heard that as well. The best connections are often made in the shadows. There’s something... intimate about the dark.”

You agreed excitedly. “Yes! Exactly. Or maybe I’m just tired. Either way, it’s just that—sometimes, the universe has a way of bringing certain people into our lives. So, thanks for always visiting me at work and brightening my day. I’m glad I had the courage to talk to you more today.”

He briefly sent an internal thank you to the universe.

“I am glad as well. We should definitely grab a bite together sometime.” If he could hold himself off before taking a bite out of you.

“For sure! Well, thanks again. Have a good night!”

And without waiting for his reply, you dashed to your door in a blur, as if running from the danger of the shadowy labyrinth that festered in his heart. He allowed himself to momentarily watch you drop your keys twice before inserting them into your door. He wanted to ensure you made it inside safely, of course, as he had done many times before, though this was the first to your knowledge.

As the glow of orange dissipated over the horizon, he brought his coat to his face and sighed. Perhaps it was time to stop day dreaming. All previous notions of having all the time in the world were dashed as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo mixed with his cologne. How much longer would he have to wait to feel your skin against his, to feel the way your skin caved against his fangs?  You would be his second death, that he was sure of.

[mirdance]

I won't post spoilers, but I wanted to show off my Rook. Antivan Crow. 😎 I wanted to make them much more androgynous, but it was difficult. I'll have to play with the creator more.

[mirdance]

The Story of a Meal

Summary: Raen likes to eat people. Zandik acts as a wonderful therapist to help with that.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Cannibalism, Bullying, mentions of rape and murder, Dead Dove, non-romance/maybe a crush if you squint, possibly flirtatious undertones and sexual tension

Characters: Raen, Dottore/Zandik

I wrote this a year ago and forgot to put it here (I think) so Happy Halloween!

...

Shadows flickered against the table, where a lone candle rested, its flame dancing and casting elongated, contorted silhouettes on the walls. The room was hushed, save for the soft clatter of utensils against plates. Raen's gaze drifted across his Sticky Honey Roast, his appetite forgotten, as the conversation wove between him and Zandik like a game of badminton.

“You really are the epitome of the standard student,” Zandik remarked, his tone dripping with haughty amusement. As he took notes at the table, he switched hands effortlessly, penning his thoughts with the other hand—a feat that never ceased to baffle Raen, who was accustomed to the limitations of one-handed writing.

Raen swallowed a bite of carrot and retorted with bitterness. “Thank you for the compliment. I live to remain as normal as possible.”

Zandik's lips curled into a wry smile, his fingers tracing the lines of his notebook. “You say, cutting into the meat of a person and eating it for dinner.”

With a casual gesture of his fork, Raen replied, his voice tinged with irony, “Thus the reason why the rest of my life needs normalcy.”

“How boring,” Zandik sighed, shaking his head, his hair swaying like tendrils. “And here I thought we could bond.”

“Don’t we have dinner almost every night and argue about nonsense? I’d say that’s pretty bonded.”

“I am wounded you think I am full of nonsense.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I wasn’t full of nonsense either.”

“Touche. We can agree on that at least.”

Zandik brushed his long bangs aside. In some ways, Zandik reminded Raen of home. His minty hair shined like the skies and lakes of Mondstadt. Zandik held a freedom fellow scholars would never be able to hold a candle to. They were too fearful.

At the time he’d first met the man, he’d been sitting in the library amid the scent of leather-bound books. His stomach had been full, and the thought at the time shot goosebumps down his neck that settled into the depths of his spine. The thought that such a normal student sat in the library with a normal thesis and a normal schedule. That even a rather boring person like him held a quality no one else knew. It ached his abdomen in a way that made him want to burst forth and shout it to the world as well as hide from it.

Raen could still feel the quiet stares of the other library patrons the time he’d first encountered Zandik. Cliques persisted beyond childhood, their grasp reaching even the hallowed halls of scholars. Raen never felt inclined to become part of any sort of circle. But he and Zandik formed their own sort of acquaintanceship.

His mother and father spent much time doing research on carnivorous plants as he grew up in Sumeru. His cousin often visited for a meal. One day, the cousin simply croaked. That’s when the idea popped into his head: What did human taste like?

There were excuses at first. Humans were simply beasts. If anything, he was recycling. In the end, it didn’t matter. He simply found it interesting. He did set himself rules. He had never murdered; he only ate criminals or those already dead. He never desecrated graves. It didn’t leave much room for meals, but it was a delicacy he enjoyed on occasion, more intoxicating than any psychoactive drug.

All of these thoughts had swirled throughout his synapses at the library when the man called Zandik broke the air like a crack of static electricity.

“Nature versus Nurture. A study on the intricacies of childhood development. It’s not often I see anyone studying psychology within the House of Daena.”

Raen had glanced from his book at a rather exhausted-looking fellow, not that that was any oddity in the House of Daena. Even so, this man had carried not a hint of exhaustion in his posture despite the bags that weighed heavily under his eyes. He’d worn the standard uniform save for a turquoise earring that hung from a single ear; it was almost the same color as his hair, so close in match it made it difficult to differentiate.

“Not often enough,” Raen had replied, his tone flat yet brimming with an underlying current of intrigue.

“Oh? And why do you say that?” The blue-haired man had pulled out a chair and sat in front of the scholar.

“Once we understand the mind, we understand the world,” Raen had replied. “But the mind is complex, more complex than the seas and the stars. The same brain that creates beautiful couplets could just as easily murder their own child.”

The man across had grinned, the curve of his lips framing the bags under his eyes and the sharp incline of his jaw. “Ah, but isn’t it precisely those challenges and uncertainties that make the pursuit of knowledge so exhilarating? The human mind and its intricacies are a labyrinth to be explored.”

Raen had nodded. “Exactly. Sometimes I wonder just how far the human mind can reach. How much can the brain take? Individual experiences vary as many as blades of grass.”

Their conversation on nature vs nurture had continued long into the night as other scholars exited the premise. Zandik had introduced himself as a scholar. He had an uncanny ability to understand human behavior, albeit unconventional.

“Very interesting perspectives,” Zandik had stated. As he stretched his bony fingers, he almost seemed ethereal. “Though, I am not sure if that will get you very far with your thesis.”

Raen had covered his papers with his book and sighed. “Don’t I know. The Academia considers too much forbidden.”

Zandik had listened intently, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as he leaned forward on his elbows. “And what sort of forbidden desires could my new friend possibly have?”

And that was when Raen blurted out his own sin.

He could still feel the vibrations of Zandik’s laughter after he’d mentioned his casual cannibalism. It was the same laughter that held the air during their current dinner. Zandik would often call Raen boring, yet here he was, sitting and taking notes on a person like Raen. Their dinners became a ritual, each meal accompanied by Zandik's probing questions that stirred Raen's conscience.

“Have you ever considered doing a taste test of different animal meats to see if this is actually your preference,” Zandik asked as he scribbled notes.

“I would never,” Raen replied. He could never find it in himself to eat an innocent creature.

Zandik tapped his fingers against the table. “So would you say you’re a humanitarian?”

“I suppose in a manner of speaking. I do my best to alleviate suffering where possible and…” he paused, taking in the mischievous gleam in Zandik’s eyes. “Ah. That was a pun.”

“Indeed. I wouldn’t be a scholar if I didn’t enjoy playing with language occasionally. Some scholars find language and literacy classes boring, and those same scholars end up falling for conspiracy theories later in life because they do not understand logical fallacies.”

“Haravatat would enjoy your company.”

Zandik chucked. “We cross paths. Though, not many enjoy my company in general.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Oh, do you really hate my company that much,” Zandik teased, his voice low as he leaned on his elbows.

Raen rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help it as his lips tugged upwards. “The absolute worst, I assure you.”

The room was quiet for a moment save for the insects outside the window screaming their nightly screams. Sometimes during these awkward silent glances, Raen wanted to reach out, to grip the other man’s hand so tightly that he stopped writing in that damned notebook for two seconds. He wondered if it was cool to the touch or if it was as heated as the humid air.

“Tell me about a time you felt powerful after eating a person.”

Of course, Zandik loved to interrupt those moments.

“What is this, a job interview?” Raen chuckled as his gaze fell to the side.

Zandik leaned back in his creaking chair. “Of sorts. Please, do tell.”

Raen swirled his remaining carrot in the sauce as he thought a moment. The meat was tender and well-seasoned with a hint of honey and pepper. He’d been surprised at Zandik’s culinary skills, but honestly, it seemed the man could do anything except have a normal conversation.

He'd been newly enrolled at the time. During his studies at the House of Daena, he’d found a woman sobbing behind one of the many bookshelves. She’d told him her story, and he’d never spoken with her again. But the way she held herself and trembled, her pupils blown wide, remained eternally seared in his heart as she told him how it still hurt to walk after she’d been assaulted.

Raen had tried to report the incident, but the perpetrator worked under the Grand Sage at the time. Crying rape often did nothing except make an enemy out of oneself. Nonetheless, it seemed karma had won, as a few weeks later the man died of a heart attack.

Recovering his body had been the difficult part. It had been worth the struggle, though, as Raen’s knife cut into the dripping medium cooked flesh of the lowlife’s rump. It had been the best rump roast he’d ever tasted; it still sent shivers through him. He had desired to penetrate that man in a way that hurt similarly to the way he’d hurt others, burn his legs the way he caused others to burn. Knowing he’d been consuming this sort of man, knowing he would shit him out later, it felt peaceful, as if justice had been served. The man would no longer be part of the world in a way that mattered.

“Interesting,” Zandik commented. “What was his name?”

Raen stilled. “I don’t remember.”

“So self-righteous that you can’t even remember a sinner’s name?”

Raen’s neck heated. “It wasn’t worth remembering.”

“Was he not still a person?”

“No,” Raen shook his head and plopped a carrot into his mouth. “He was less than that.”

“I see. It’s a simple matter to help you with your cravings, then. Eat someone’s name worth remembering.”

Raen gazed away. He had. His very first. And he’d suffer for the rest of his life because of it. The name of his cousin ghosted his lips every time he consumed, and he could only consume more to erase it.

“It would be too difficult to remember every name I’ve eaten. Do you remember every cow you’ve had for dinner?”

Zandik tapped his pencil against the table in time to the wall clock that ticked away the night. “And that is why we must find you someone’s name worth remembering. Have you ever heard of exposure therapy? Think of it similarly. Your self-righteous heart has clouded you into thinking you are some sort of hero. But heroes are still murderers.”

“I’ve never murdered,” Raen retorted with an edge to his voice.

“Of course. But you still eat the meat of human beings. Who made you a god to be able to determine who is low enough to be eaten for supper versus returned to Sarva through the ground?”

Raen clutched his fork tightly. “I did.”

Zandik laughed lowly, the candle’s light waving gently in the reflection of his pupils. “Only fools call themselves gods. But who’s to say really. Even I’m a fool in many ways.”

Raen sipped his wine, doing his best not to consume the entire thing in one go.

Zandik continued, pointing towards the plates that decorated the table. “But let’s talk of other matters. I hope you’ve enjoyed your meal?”

Raen shuddered. Zandik wasn’t the type to provide small talk to any of their discussions. The way the man’s fingers waved and gestured above the table held a sinister vibe Raen couldn’t shake.

“You can drop the theatrics,” Raen commented with a nervous sigh. “Who am I eating today?”

In Zandik’s previous company, he’d provided meals as long as he could study Raen while eating. Other than eating human meat, the conversations were pleasant and nothing much different than any other dinner. Sometimes Zandik would tell him who he was eating, other times not. There hadn’t been anyone of note; everyone had already been dead. Raen couldn’t feel too guilty.

“Just a neighbor of yours. I was curious to see if pregnancy would have any impact on the taste and quality,” He stated with as much flair as one would speak of the weather.

Raen’s face chilled. “I…hadn’t known she’d passed away.”

Raen stared at the sauce remaining on his plate. Had the food tasted any different?

All he could think of was the way those brown eyes gleamed into the sky as his neighbor’s daughter tugged on Raen’s hair one morning as he was crossing in front of the home.

His legs had been heavy from a long night's worth of restless sleep and papers. The light rain was sprinkling down in welcoming droplets against his cheeks. He'd begun to pass by the neighboring home on his way to class when his neighbor's daughter slipped in a puddle.

Raen had immediately ran and knelt to help. He'd never been good around kids; once he'd lifted her into the air, he didn't know quite what to do. They'd just stared at each other for a moment until the kid reached out her muddy palms and tugged on Raen's hair.

"Don't do that," Raen had awkwardly blurted.

The kid's father had run over to apologize. "Your hair's similar to hers--her mother's--Vanessa. I think she comes from the same town you do. She works late hours in the field, so she's not here until late," he'd said while checking the little girl over. "I think I've seen you in the House of Daena, right? I'm studying, too. You should come over for dinner sometime. I've been studying the way photosynthesis..."

Raen had tuned out most of the pleasantries; all he could think about at the time was the way those muddy hands clutched her father's shoulders and the stink that emitted from her person.

Raen had always been so out of touch with the world; he couldn't even tell how old she was, just that she could be picked up and held easily. She was shy in speech but gestured with her hands enthusiastically. A trail of wet snot often stained the skin beneath her nose. Her favorite toy was a stuffed boar she and her father played catch with in the yard. Every time after that rainy meeting when Raen had sent scholarship money through a fake sponsor, she'd been bathed properly.

And he'd just eaten her mother.

Vanessa. Almost every girl was named Vanessa in Mondstadt; if Raen had been born with different chromosomes, he probably would have been named the same.

His fingers trembled over his lips as he clutched his mouth. "I didn't know she'd died. How?"

Zandik set his pencil down and laced his fingers together. "I heard she was murdered."

Raen's voice stuttered nonsensically in reply. His gaze fell to the window that faced the neighboring home. It was dark, but he could make out a candle illuminating a window, a little less melted than his own. By now, Vanessa would usually be arriving home, her his waiting up for her by the door. He'd open the door, give her a peck on the cheek, and they'd walk inside. Even pregnant, she toiled in the fields, no matter the money Raen sent to help. She’d once stated she enjoyed the work.

The neighbor's candlelight cast shadows on a figure walking near the door--a woman. Shoulder-length brunette hair, muscular physique.

Vanessa.

Raen's head fell to the table in a soft cry. His forehead stung from the impact, and he pushed his plate away. "A joke. Ha. A joke."

Zandik's clapping hands stung Raen's ears just as much as the table against his forehead. "A marvelous performance. I could see beads of sweat perspiring across your throat."

"Get out of my house," Raen croaked, his face still resting against the cool table.

"Oh, so soon?" Zandik stood and gathered his notebook. "Well, I suppose exposure therapy takes some time to...digest."

"I hate you."

Zandik chucked. "I'll be back tomorrow, same time as usual."

Raen watched him from the corner of his eye. The man held not a hint of remorse, only the grace of a ballerina and a hint of mirth that reached his eyes like an admirer who had just been accepted. All the while, Raen's upper abdomen clenched and burned as if an ulcer were already clutching at his guts.

Zandik's robes swept the floor as he turned to face Raen before leaving the room. The candle was almost burned to its wick, yet the white man's eyes penetrated the low light. "Before I go, don't you wish to know who you were actually eating?"

Raen sat up and rubbed his face. "I don't think I can stomach another joke, Zandik."

"That reminds me of your father." He settled his notebook in a large pocket at the side of his robe, slow and deliberate. "I'd heard he couldn't stomach jokes, either. I hope he doesn't have any impact on your digestion."

Ringing. Raen clutched his throat as his ears rang. "Good one," he laughed, his voice squeaking an octave higher than usual.

Zandik laughed along with him. "Well, good night, my dear friend."

And he left. The bastard just left.

Zandik's departure had left a chilling void in the room, dear friend echoing like distant whispers.

Acid clutched the back of Raen's tongue until it expelled. His tongue burned as his eyes watered. The taste of acidic honey lingered on his taste buds as he zoned out, staring at what was once the sauce on his plate, now merged with bile.

He'd really have to stop letting Zandik's jokes impact him so much.

He washed his plate, blew out the candle, and went to bed with his clothes on. He'd skip classes tomorrow. Drink a lot. He curled his body into his pillow and held his stomach until exhaustion won the mental battles swirling through his mind. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he could use his brain then and let whatever roast was inside him churn for now as the smell of honey stuck to his lips.

[mirdance]

This scene.... changed my brain chemistry...

Thank you from the bottom of my heart Rotten Racoons for making Obscura and creating Cirrus 😭