#` kindred - au verses.

[more-than-a-princess]

Considering the icy sidewalks and still-falling snow, Sonia couldn't ignore the fact that if she slipped and fell, she'd be taking her with her. And considering the night her friend had experienced, at least at the ramen stand, Sonia didn't want to make things worse for her. "If you would like to, I would not mind if you shared whatever you wish to say," She suggested as they paused at a street corner, waiting for the light to change. "And if these are private matters, I understand that as well. But we do have a bit of a journey back to school, and I have found sometimes that voicing my worries can sometimes help confront them. Even if it is to yourself, or if the other person you voice them to cannot fix them for you."

She did more of the former than the latter: one of the many rules she had grown up with was to never complain. Complaints could be easily interpreted as being spoiled, something the Novosonian Monarchy discouraged being on display. A discreet therapist was acceptable, sharing concerns about one's private life to the staff or friends was not. Without an ironclad NDA and someone whose livelihood depended on it, it was unsafe to speak with anyone: anything could get back to the press.

Something Sonia didn't condone about royal expectations, thus prompting Shinobu to voice her thoughts. But maybe she'd said the wrong thing: waiting for the crosswalk light to change and Sonia could feel her red gaze on her face. Probably a similar shade of red, Sonia thought as she kept her own gaze straight ahead. A combination of the chill and something else, the feeling of being analyzed.

A previous relationship was what Shinobu went on to describe. One that experienced plenty of changes: Shinobu's body aside (and something Sonia was trying not to think about: how was she not cold, with the amount of exposed decolletage her blouse offered?), it had been a shift in priorities that had seemingly disintegrated the romance. An idealized Shinobu that matched every expectation Miss Uesugi had for her, even if the real person was a far cry from it.

Yes, Sonia could understand that. Something she kept to herself, not wanting to turn the conversation onto her own thoughts and opinions until Shinobu had prompted. "I have not heard of such warnings, actually," She admitted honestly. No one really spoke to her about Shinobu at all, barring Anzu and Chiaki. "But I have never been of the opinion that you are heartless and cold. From what I have witnessed from you on dates or in the company of ex-girlfriends, I believe you are asserting your boundaries when someone has overstepped the mark. That is not heartless nor cold, that is prioritizing your comfort in an intimate relationship."

Then again, if girls did not befriend her they tended to avoid her. Maybe it was intimidation, maybe it was jealousy, but before she'd been sent off to middle school she'd gotten a warning from her mother about that exact behavior: girls will want to be your friend or they will hate you. There is no in-between: those who want to ally themselves to a princess will be cordial, but those who want to be you? They will be the source of most disparaging rumors, and you should not concern yourself with them.

Maybe it had worked both ways: they didn't find Sonia worth concerning themselves over and Sonia, in turn, spent her time and energy with girls who truly wanted to be her friend. She shook her head at Shinobu's insistence of rambling though: that wasn't true, though the rest of it, well, she was right about.

"You despise the scent of motor oil too?" She asked, chuckling as her eyebrows raised in interest. "I thought I was the only one! My classmates seem to be used to it but on days when Souda-san does not bathe, it is rather eye-watering." Maybe it was a normal smell that they'd grown up with and become accustomed to, but it burned Sonia's nose and her desk was near his. It didn't matter though: he approached her whenever his confidence was high, eager to endear himself to her. Not unlike, she realized, the many girls that approached Shinobu.

"Oh, I should clarify since you seemingly have not met," Sonia added. Somewhere along Shinobu's story they'd left the entertainment district behind for the dim lights of everyday shops: a nearby supermarket, a bank, a drycleaners. Her friend had still grasped her hand in hers, intent on keeping it warm while Sonia shoved her other hand into Shinobu's blazer pocket. "My classmate you speak of is Souda Kazuichi-san, the Ultimate Mechanic. But you are correct regarding his affections towards me: he is enamored with my title and my looks mostly, seemingly both solidify what he has expected princesses to be. Likely from films: I despise most princess films for this reason, they never portray what it is really like. But where Souda-san is concerned, he is more apt to stalking me than anything else. He ceased for awhile when Gundham and I were-"

She paused: it was her turn to ramble on street corners, the bright light of a convenience store coming up in the distance. "I still call him 'Gundham' now, though I suppose I should not. We are no longer a romantic couple but it feels too odd to refer to him by his last name. We are still friends, even..." Sonia breathed in deeply. Discussing her private life was something she only felt truly comfortable doing with Chiaki. It was strange to do so now, with her hand clasped in Shinobu's, but she felt compelled to repay the other girl's openness with vulnerability of her own. "Even if it still hurts at times. But he had his reasons for not wishing to remain in a relationship with me: I can hardly blame him for that. But he is the only person who never much cared for my title, until the implications it will have on my future, and his own."

The ramen vendor waved at the pair as they held hands and began to walk back towards the school. "Try not to slip, and stay warm," he cautioned. Shinobu, meanwhile, was already thinking of what to say to Sonia, her mind occupied by the same question that left Sonia's lips after they passed some of the entertainment districts and crossed back over to the quiet, empty streets. "Mm... I wonder how much there is to say," they murmured, pursing their lips in thought. "Anzu explained some of it, it seemed like. Miss Uesugi grew up near enough my family's estate, and our families are rather alike in history and style, though it's fair to say that her own is more prestigious than mine."

Shinobu looked to Sonia, quietly studying her face, the slight red tint at her cheeks and nose from the cold more easily visible upon her fair skin, her features worked into a gentle expression that didn't seem to imply any pressure. She really was beautiful. Shinobu couldn't condone the way some of her hangers-on treated her, but certainly she could understand it, if jealousy was its root. With their free hand, the archer tapped at the side of their face. There wasn't any harm in explaining things to her, was there? If anyone could relate, on any level, to Shinobu's situation, wasn't Sonia the most obvious person to do so?

"I think Miss Uesugi internalized the idea at a young age of an 'acceptable partner,' and I fit the expectations. When we met, I wasn't set to inherit my family's dojo, either, so despite it being unconventional in Japan's family registry system, I could have married into her family without too much trouble." Even back then, Miss Uesugi was the type of woman with expectations, and if those expectations were not met, she would simply pretend that they were, to the detriment of whoever was unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire.

"We dated in middle school, for a time. It was before the..." Her voice trailed off, lips frowning, before she faintly gestured to her makeup, then her body in general. "Before this. I expected that she'd have no interest in me further after I informed her, and that we might break up because of it, but she was surprisingly understanding." Perhaps that was why she'd allowed things to get to the point that they did. Despite her myriad flaws, Miss Uesugi had been unfazed by the various confessions and explanations that Shinobu had given her. At the time, they must have thought that worth more than enough.

It was strange, to be so vulnerable or share so much, but Sonia was a relaxing presence. Shinobu had seldom seen her act in a cruel or judgmental manner, and they seemed aligned on a number of things. "In time, though, I came to see Miss Uesugi as less uniquely invested in me as a person than I would have hoped. There was a version of me she held close, cobbled together from memories of us as younger children, the expectations of a person in my position, and her own desires, that bore little resemblance to my actual person."

She let out a deep sigh, her breath visible in the cold winter air. "I found it strangely miserable to be seen only as a fantasy. Eventually, I shattered her heart so completely that I imagined she would never approach me again." Evidently, that hadn't worked. If again their paths crossed, without bystanders around, perhaps she'd need to try again. "It was unkind of me, but I suppose by now you're well-acquainted with the things people say about me, Miss Nevermind. How heartless and cold I can be, or how unfairly I treat the women who hold out to me their hearts."

Not in the way that Miss Aoyama did, and not in the way that a number of men did, but unfair and callous all the same. "Regrettably, I seem to have rambled," Shinobu murmured, hand still holding Sonia's own, desiring to warm the other girl's cold fingers. "I suppose I imagined you might be able to relate to some of it, though that's still no excuse for being so imprudent with my words." Such was the danger of being open about things, she thought, looking away from Sonia and resting her gaze on the distant horizon, where snowflakes faded out against the still-lit skyline. "That classmate of yours, the one who always gives off the unpleasant odor? It seemed to me his affection for you - a term I use rather loosely, in this instance - is rooted largely in your talent, and your background, rather than anything else, so I thought it might..." They shook their head. "Surely I'm overstepping my bounds as a friend. I'll refrain from such assumptions, Miss Nevermind."

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Jan 16th

LINK LIMIT REACHED (please look in replies for more recs ^^)

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1. Hello, looking for fics that discuss or focus around wy being in a different body and yeah kinda just focused around that. thanks!

the soft animal by cafecliche (T, 5k, wangxian, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, the physicality of moving on: the fic, LWJ is the best husband, Podfic Available, (the presence of) MXY, and a whole bunch of Baby Lans)

a better world by ilip13 (G, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Soft WangXian, mild body dysphoria, Hopeful Ending)

a kind of emptiness by ScarlettStorm (E, 11k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Eating Disorders, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorder Recovery, low angst, Happy Ending, seriously in spite of the tags this fic is very soft, Tender smut, Frottage, Praise Kink, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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2. hopefully something similar to this

thank u!! @/weiwuxianfan34

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

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3. Hi, for the next itmf, do you guys have and lwj/wwx/lxc recs? Like with the three of them together in a relationship. It can be cannon era or modern era, I don't really mind either but I would prefer cannon era. Thank you for the help.

our close and kindred ties by exmanhater (E, 41k, WangXianXi, Pregnancy Kink, Incest, almost incest, Post-Canon, Gender Changes, Always a Different Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Riding, Vaginal Fingering, Established Relationship, Situational Incest Only, POV Outsider, Pregnancy, Family Feels, Fluff, Incest Adjacent, Threesome - F/F/M, Relationship Negotiation, (slight) Pregnancy Kink, Kid Fic, Parenting, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Double Penetration, LWJ is a service top, Strap-Ons, Anal Sex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Restraints, Parenthood) has f!wangxian but otherwise i think it's post-canon-ish setting?

oh we have moved forward in pain by rainbowshoes (E, 47k, WangXianXi, past 3zun, past Niecest, Incest, Post-Betrayal Depression, Severe depressive episodes, Bruises, Bite marks, Consensual sexual injuries, Self harm through sex, self harm ideation, Nightmares, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Excessive Drinking, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Scars, Past Child Abuse, implied ace jc, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Canon-verse version of safe-wording out, Canon-verse version of subdrop, Child Abuse, discussion of death and murder, Discussion of wwx’s first time in the burial mounds, Broken Bones, Starvation, eating corpses, Insecurity not-so-accidental child acquisition, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sort Of, Sibling Incest, mix and mash Mashup of cql verse and novel, anti-lqr)

set my soul alight Series by Skadiseven (E, 42k, WangXianXi, Modern AU, Jadecest, Sibling Incest, Toronto, Halloween Costumes, Halloween, Canada, Jade Xianwich, WWX POV, Power Play, LXC POV, Rough Sex, Intercrural Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Aftercare, Sort Of)

take this weight of mine by soliloqui (E, 84k, WangXianXi, Post-Canon, LXC in Seclusion, Depression, touch starvation, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Canon-Typical Violence, Unreliable Narrator, Dual Cultivation, mild fuck-or-die, Mild Consent Issues, please check end notes of chapter 2 for more information, Sibling Incest, Hurt/Comfort, gentle smut, Healing, demisexual LXC, demisexual lwj, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Protective WWX, lqr's a++ parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🔒Embers by xantissa (E, 38k, WangXian, XiXian, WangXianXi, Jadecest, Angst, drama, Fluff, Falling In Love, sex pollen trope (curse), dub con, Comfort, Grief, Forgiveness, Happy Ending, Sibling Incest, Switching, Flirting, Learning to live again, Magic, Curses, Everyone is Badass, lwj has a sense of humor, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome - M/M/M, Slow Burn, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

🔒Magnificent by Anonymous (E, 36k, WangXianXi, Post-Canon, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Deepthroating, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Blow Jobs, Jadecest, Light Angst, Past NieLan, Sharing a Bed, Canon Compliant, Top LWJ, Switch LXC, Switch WWX, Spitroasting, Face-Fucking, Come Eating, Snowballing, Facials, Praise Kink, over-stimulation, Ass to Mouth, Intercrural Sex, Laughter During Sex, Rimming, Come as Lube, Magical Healing Cock, i guess, Come play)

给我再去相信的勇气 // the courage to believe by howodd5ever (E, 55k, WangXian, WangXianXi, Threesome - M/M/M, Jadecest, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Undernegotiated Kink, Choking, Spanking, Dom/sub, Rough Sex, dub con but trust me wei ying is into it, Polyamory, Getting Together, First Times, porn with a tiny bit of plot if you squint, Bottom wwx, bratty WWX, Marks, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, mostly cql canon timeline but otherwise franken-canon, angst but not about the poly stuff, Cockwarming, a little rimming as a treat)

Fraternal Fissures by Foregone_Shadow (E, 33k, Jadecest, WangXianXi, Angst with a Happy Ending, Threesome - M/M/M, Dual Cultivation, Healing Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Sibling Incest, Explicit Sexual Content, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Somnophilia, Reference to relationships between 3zun, POV Alternating, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Tender Sex, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Care and aftercare, Bondage, dom!lwj, Sub!lxc, Top / Bottom Versatile Characters, LWJ is canonically huge, Size Kink, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Light BDSM, Voyeurism, Depression, Dubious Consent, LWJ talks dirty, Marathon Sex, switch!WWX, Lots of bathing, gagging, Blindfolds, Inappropriate Use of Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Belly Kink, Orgasm Denial, Prostate Play)

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4. hello! this is an itmf request. i would love:

A) recs on good case fics - i have a soft spot for those that take place during the cloud recesses study arc, but any and all case fic recs welcome :)

B) recs on de-aging/age regression fics - whether wangxian or other characters. thank you thank you! @/potatokunst

4A)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn) if OP is open to modern AUs

🔒 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, wangxian, WQ & WWX & WN, Modern Cultivation, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Case Fic, LWJ’s canonically big dick, sort of a ‘thirsting for your co-worker ex’ vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

🔒 Vagabond by xantissa (E, 65k, wangxian, Slow Burn, Mystery, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Case Fic, murders, Supernatural, Angst, Fluff, those two are so in love it hurts, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, badass LXC, Canon-Typical Violence, topLWJ, Bottom LWJ)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot   washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

there was recently a whole event about casefics! Not all of them are wangxian but a lot are so maybe one will catch your interest

💖 I’d be the one to hold you down (kiss you so hard) by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf & tardigradeschool (E, 85k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, NMJ/LXC, modern, leverage au, canon-typical violence, unhealthy relationships, depression, heists, found family, murder, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending)

🧡 moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, Canon Compliant)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, m.. maybe??, its not as intense as a kink, Fluff, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication)

this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending)

4B)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, podfic available)

home is where we are by halfdemonvash (T, 17k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng are Bad at Communicating, JC & WWX Reconciliation, but only somewhat because these these things take time, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, accidental baby acquisition but it's actually your older brother, references to wwx's past being homeless, and also his past food insecurity, rated T for jiang cheng's language, and light sexual content in the beginning, Post-Canon, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Junior Trio Shenanigans)

Bringing Up JC by Mikkeneko (T, 31k, JC & WWX, JC & JL JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, Kid Fic, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff and Angst, anticipate about one part kid cuteness to two parts angst, Reparenting, reliving trauma, unpacking JC's childhood issues, no therapy in the jianghu so this will have to do, Take Care reveal, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, WWX Is Good With Children, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Golden Core Reveal)

🔒 Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, wangxian, post-canon, de-aging, fluff & angst, happy ending, fix-it of sorts, family bonding, established relationship, non-sexual intimacy, BAMF WWX, pining, protective WWX)

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares)

🔒suddenly an old song fills my heart with home, my eyes with tears by RoseThorne (T, 724, WangXian, JC & WWX, Curses, Rebirth, Memories, Memory Loss, Age Regression/De-Aging, Recovered Memories, POV Third Person)

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5. Hi, I am looking for fics in the canon-ish setting where characters undergo major injuries or illnesses that disable them but they are still bamf? (Last part added to a FF)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) WWX loses a leg & continues fighting the SSC with no-one being the wiser

🔒 no new age by everythingispoetry (M, 146k, wangxian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC/JGY, LXC/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Recovery, Disability, Parenthood, Character Study, Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Self-Discovery, Mental Health Issues, Grief/Mourning, Families of Choice, Developing Relationship) LWJ is left disabled by the 33 lashes punishment, & pushes through it, which I would think qualifies for BAMF status

🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX's Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

Obscuring the Sun by Karmiya (E, 24k, WIP, WangXian, WWX & WN, the sunshot campaign, Past Domestic Abuse)

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6. ITMF a fic where preferably wwx is an amputee but lwj is okay too and I’d also prefer it in modern setting but again cannon timeline is fine as well @/zerokogane

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) link in #5

🔒some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint (E, 23k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Single Parent LWJ, when you just want disability-led sword lessons for your child, swordflight instructor!wwx, swordflight instructor!lwj, Fluff, give lwj friends agenda, Protective LWJ, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, Choking, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Implied off-screen D/s negotiations)

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7. Hey! Do have any recs where wwx never loses his golden core? Like the Just Say Yes series? Could be an au, or anything. Thank you!

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

Until The World Embraces Me Home by azri (T, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ LWJ, LWJ Has No Golden Core, Role Reversal, Not LXC Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Not cultivation world friendly overall tbh, Sunshot Campaign, Friends to Lovers, Temporary Character Death, WangXian Get a Happy Ending) LZ loses his core but WY keeps his

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX is not adopted by Jiangs, develping friendships, miscommunication, misunderstanding, nightmares, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, slow burn)

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8. Hi, itmf recently completed wips. What's new and good is ready for the binge reading. Thank you! @/best-before-end

pale shadows of forgotten names by Chrononautical (T, 56k, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Good Sibling LXC, Badass LXC, He gets there in the end it just takes a while, Not particularly JGY friendly, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the universal fear of growing up to become one of your parents, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Except WN but he's very polite, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, not between wangxian, Drunk LWJ, to lighten the mood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Traumatized WWX, though he will not admit it, Taking time to heal, canon-typical communication skills)

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9. Hello! I am in the mood for a wangxian arranged marriage fanfic. I would prefer a longer story (over 50k words, if possible). It can be canon or even AU. I would like the story to focus not only on the relationship between LZ and WY but also on the politics behind it. It can also be omegaverse. It would be great if their relationship is rocky at first and then becomes better. If there's more fanfics like this, I would be grateful for all of them. Thank you very much. @/broodyelii

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

🧡 a stone to break your soul, a song to save it by rikke (M, 179k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage) Definitely meets the length criteria, though its been long enough since I last read it that I don't recall how much it went into the politics of the marriage

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

❤️ A Myriad of Blossoms by Itszero (E, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, YLLZ WWX, Hurt LWJ, Cruel wwx, he's cruel until he's not, Protective WWX, Caring WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Dark WWX)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

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10. Itmf wangxian fics with WWX in peril (happy ending only please).

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, wangxian, post-canon, outsider pov, BAMF WWX, kidnapping, violence)

❤️ kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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11. I am currently reading "Get it right (mdzs time travel) Series" by AmiraAlzilu (AO3) and now I'm ITMF for a time travel fic where LXC and LQR are specifically called out for their lack of trust in LWJ witness testimony (aka child/elders in the Burial Mounds) and believing a sworn brother over family. Bonus for a) apologies or b) digging a deeper hole aka surely LWJ is mistaken, Meng Yao would never, I'm looking at you chapter 15 to 17 of this fic LXC (yes I'm salty). Bonus bonus for consequences on LXC's loose lips telling things to others he was asked to keep in confidence.... @/mreisse

I'm #11, and you know what? Recs calling out LXC and LQR is also fine :)

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LWJ's emotional repression, WWX giving everything as always, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole) Okay so this isn't a time travel fic, so feel free to disregard, BUT! Does have LXC coming to WWX for help & seeing the truth, & characters calling him tf out on how it took him this long, so requester may still be interested

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12. this is an itmf ask!!

fics where wwx is in his full yiling patriarch glory, I want to see scary yllz, possessive yllz (for lwj ofc) anything. longer fics pls but anything is fine, just no wips please haha!!

🔒hold me fast, fear me not by cicer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Mpreg, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, YLLZ WWX, brief reference to abortificants, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, may be interpreted as noncon by some)

curse of the dragon emperor by lulu_kitty (E, 96k, WangXian, Dragon AU, Canon Divergence, Mythology References, Identity Porn, Cursed WWX, Trans LWJ, Trans Male Character, Misgendering, Canon-Typical Violence, Gender Dysphoria, gender euphoria, Phoenixes, Dragon WWX, Fox WWX, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Dirty Talk, Submissive LWJ, Trauma, WWX Has PTSD, Minor Character Death, Prince WWX, Emperor WWX, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Mpreg, Trans Male Pregnancy, Size Difference, Dragonxian has two dicks, YLLZ WWX, technically!, It's more like YLLZ adjacent)

your darkest roads by comefeedtherainn (E, 76k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, non-yunmeng wwx, Kinda, No Golden Core Transfer, Dark WWX, d/s dynamics, No noncon, playing with subverting some tropes/expectations)

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13. I swear the only reason I can still consume Wangxian content daily is because of your recommendations.

There’s a couple fics I’ve been craving for a while and haven’t been able to find any I really love, so any help/ recommendations would be much appreciated!

A) Lan Xichen focused fics. It’s so hard to find fics that centre him.

B) Lan Sizhui focused fics. Mainly him with his dads/ family, but also him remembering his past would be great! Baby or adult A-yuan.

C) Wangxian being parents. Wei Wuxian being single parent. Just them being amazing dad’s content.

I’d appreciate any of these prompts 💞✨💫 @/jinxedjaz

13A)

Chapter 2 of Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, Madam Lan & WWX, Madam Lan & LWJ, Madam Lan & Lxc, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that's so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & QHJ, Give Madam Lan a name of her own, let Madam Lan find out that QHJ died in a fire as a treat, now with bonus Lan Xichen!) chapter 1 is more focused on LWJ and WWX, I recommend both :)

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & JGY, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LWJ's emotional repression, WWX giving everything as always, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole) link in #11

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending) it's SI/OC but heavily features LXC (including some chapters from his POV). also has one of my favorite characterizations of LXC i've seen in fic

To Love What Is Mortal by treemaidengeek (T, 22k, LXC/SL, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, [Podfic] To Love What Is Mortal by flamingwell) as well as most of the works in this series.

Gentle Exile by rynleaf (E, 9k, LXC/SL, Post-Canon, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Epistolary, Post-Canon Exploration, [PODFIC] Gentle Exile by flamingwell, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

13B)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue (T, 39k, WangXian, WWX is in a coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Single Dad LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Parenthood, YZY's A+ Parenting, JFM's A+ parenting, wangxian family) this is completely from lsz's pov

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Post-Canon, POV LXC)

The Living Looked That Day by violettressed (T, 19k, LSZ & WN, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Ritualistic Self-Harm, Mild Gore)

🧡 Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

as i stumble homewards by the_pretzel (T, 27k, wangxian, canonical character death, found family, food issues, trauma, LSZ pov, angst w/ happy ending, fluff) LSZ raised by ghost!WWX

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit) LSZ gets to have a lil revenge, as a treat

Remember, Remember by Izzyaro (Isilarma) (G, 1k, LSZ & WN, LJY & LSZ, Character Study, Post-Canon, Family, Families of Choice, Grief/Mourning, Angry LSZ, LSZ Needs a Hug, not for jc fans, LSZ gets a hug) LSZ remembers a few things, & gets to be angry

the kite string and the anchor rope by fleurdeliser (M, 39k, wangxian, after yiling date, sick child) LSZ is sick for a chunk of this but is still the central character

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation) featuring protective dad WWX

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics) being a coming-of-age type story as LSZ discovers his past with WWX

13C)

emergent properties by luckymarrow (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Family Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans LWJ, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Adoption, Baby LSZ, Teen MXY, Crossdressing, but not as a kinkgender expression, Dilf4Dilf Wangxian, Penis In Vagina Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, gender euphoria, Cunnilingus)

at no other time by luckymarrow (M, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, Queer Families, Queer Youth, Child LSZ, Family Fluff, Non-Explicit Sex, farming, Wangxian Run an Organic Farm as God Intended, Found Family, Families of Choice, Adoption, Trans Male Character, Married WangXian, Established Relationship)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending) this one also has WangXian being great parents, but it's not the main plot of the story.

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher!lwj, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, single dad lwj, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let lwj have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love)

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, [PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

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14. thanks for your hard work admins! itmf darkji fics :) once again, ty!!

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15. Can you please give me all the Fic Recs you can find on A) WWX getting his body back? Post canon. I’m struggling to find them. And also B) post canon reconciliation docs with JC and Jin ling, and/or C) post canon fica where wwx night hunts and gets injured, and nearly dies? And worries everyone. Please and thank you. @/the-daydreamer

15A)

Touch That Body, (It's Not Mine) by brrrrrRawr (T, 3k, WangXian, WWX in WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Names, Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria, So OOC)

15B)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, [PODFIC] Rotten Work by sakizar) qualifies for both 15B and 15C

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) this fic works for both b and c I think

Imprints by Lisa_Telramor (G, 47k, WangXian, accidental puppy adoption, Humor, Panic Attacks, phobia recovery, Post-Canon, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Poor Life Choices, Self-Acceptance, Developing Relationship, fluff with a side of anxiety lol, WWX adopts a puppy, Dogs)

other side of paradise by blueseam (T, 12k, JC & WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Platonic hair-washing, excessive amounts of communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

singing through the dark by twigofwillow (G, 13k, JL & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Yunmeng bros reconciliation if you squint, angst with a tiny bit of fluff)

everyone else is spring bound by Lise (T, 18k, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Minor WangXian, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, JC Needs a Hug, POV JC, Family Feels, Light Angst, Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin )

an aging wound by Lise (G, 7k, JC & WWX, POV WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Awkward Conversations, Light Angst, but mostly just the awkward conversations, Dysfunctional Family, Post-The Untamed (TV), Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels)

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending, [Podfic] With Absolute Splendor by kisahawklin, [PODFIC] With Absolute Splendor by Gwogobo)

Jiang Cheng goes Traveling Series by gbuzy12 (G, 11k, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Light Angst Post-Canon, yunmeng bros reconciliation)

Reeds in the Wind by merakily (T, 26k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, Rabbit Therapy, Sewing Therapy, PTSD, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC Needs a Hug) 15C)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, 2k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship)

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16. Any fanfiction about the xicheng ship.

Audience of One by WinterDreams (T, 181k, XiCheng, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, Celebrities, Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Singer LXC, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Slow Burn, Family Feels, Family Bonding, past emotional abuse, Post-Betrayal, Venerated Triad Feels, Yunmeng Duo Feels, Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Babysitter Ā-Qìng, Domestic Fluff, SongXiao mentioned relationship, Soft XiCheng, Eventual Happy Ending, implied MingYao)

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17. pls rec some post canon fluff :)

with such a suffering, such a deadly life by cqlorphan (T, 7k, wangxian, post-canon, curses, curse breaking, getting together, angst w/ happy ending, fluff, hurt/comfort, affection, touch-starved LWJ, LWJ whump, cuddling & snuggling, love confessions)

Continuation by thefaceofno (T, 13k, WangXian, Canon Continuation, wwx builds a lotus pond in cloud recesses, Hair Brushing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Pining, gay disaster lwj, Post-Canon Fix-It)

Deeper grows my longing by feyburner (T, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, First Kiss, Deeper grows my longing [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[mothervonmayhem]

Battle of the Bands

Hobie, Miguel, Gabriel, Gwen and 1st person pov OC / MC

New Adult magical realism AU (obvi) brain worm that has grown from a 2-shot screenplay for some fun comics into a monster. This fic is like Tremors in my brain.

The summer before college MC, Gabriel O'Hara, and Miguel O'Hara go on an international road trip with their metal band, Neon Requiem. Destination? BandFest, the Battle of the Bands in London guaranteed to secure the winning band a record deal. They meet other ATSV characters along the way.

No mention of Y/N / Reader, written from 1st person POV. Self-insertion is made easier by fewer details about the MC.

Notes on language: Tried my best here, if you are a native speaker of French, let me know if the MC's French is unnatural and I will love you forever.

Romance, angst, and poorly understood music concepts are often written as having a distinct visual component because I am an artist first. <

@pinksugarscrub @the-kr8tor I DID THE THING!

*******************************************************************

Chapter 1 - “Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l’oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire”

The Rusty Nail's neon whir and raucous rhythms had been muted to a melancholy hum that evening, it was a ghost town, the emptiness of the dimly lit bar echoing with decades of unfulfilled longings. I nursed my drink, letting the smoky burn of liquor etch contours of quiet contemplation onto my throat as I surveyed the handful of kindred souls keeping solemn vigil. Life had been feeling heavy, and I needed to write, to make art, and to get lost in music.

At the far end of the bar hunched a beautiful wraith, his slim, angular frame sheathed in torn denim and studded leather. Something indefinable shimmered around him, unsung poetry, snippets of melodies, a symphony I could see and hear and almost touch. Drawn like a moth to the lambent glow of the music, I slid onto the stool beside the ethereal punk spectre. In my mind's eye, I crowned him the prince of punk, a fairy tale rebel.

Our bodies brushed intimately in the cramped space, raising ghosts of sensation along the exposed skin of my fishnets. "Wozzat, luv?" he murmured, kohl-rimmed eyes flickering over the point of contact with a soldering heat.

Mon dieu, {My God} Had I spoken my admiration aloud? A flush crept up my cheeks as I scrambled for a response.

"Désolé. Je répétais quelque chose pour ne pas l'oublier… Need to write it down before I lose it," {Sorry. I was repeating something so I wouldn't forget it…} I mumbled, a flimsy excuse for my wandering mind.

Fumbling through my bag ,I pulled out my tattered notebook, fingers trembling as I scribbled down a scrap of verse inspired by the punk's incandescent presence beside me. I scribbled my observations in hasty strokes. The dying light of day bled into night, a liminal space that begged for a soundtrack. I could almost hear it, a melody just out of reach, shimmering in the smoky air.

"The liminal light of late afternoon, yawning into early evening…" I muttered, pulling on the strings of the melody, trying to draw it back to me. "I don't want to be loved for the things that I don't do. I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a work of art…We are all just works of art."

The jukebox fell silent, making my mutterings around sift and strange, slightly unhinged---but the punk prince remained---his gaze heavy on my skin. I met his stare, unflinching. Unabashed curiosity flickered in eyes, wide brown and doe-like, framed by lashes so lush they seemed to blur the line between masculine and feminine, earthly and ethereal. I found myself dizzied by warring impulses - to flee this unsettling intimacy, or be consumed by it wholly.

He was a changeling, gorgeously androgynous: part punk Mona Lisa with a Cheshire cat grin, part Jean-Michel Baptiste, part force-of-fucking-nature. He made me feel like a background character in his story, could be a punk fairy princess, and I would be the dragon. My thoughts raced, fragments of poetry and half-formed desires. I scribbled faster, chasing the threads of inspiration, but a nudge from my prince brought me back to earth.

Snatches of poetry, raw and unfinished, that I urgently longed to refine on the page before they dissipated like the last wisps of smoke in a spent ashtray. But the punk's aura dragged me too deeply into devotional reverie. I glanced up apologetically as my concentration scattered, the thread of inspiration slipping through my fingers once more.

The bartender had sprouted up directly in front of me, and she eyed me expectantly. Her hair was a shock of blue curls and silver streaks shorn close to her scalp, it made her eyes seem more gray. Her skin etched with lines that mapped out the years like a roadmap. I felt the familiar pang of a poem lost to the ether.

"Un…Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît," {A…Jack Daniel's, please} I said, no longer able to filter its lilt from my words, as I wasn't paying attention to dulling it.

"Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands event this week, love?"

"Oui, how did you know?" {Yes, how did you know?}

"Just a…sense," he demurred with a wicked grin. "Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know."

The bartender chuckled as she set my drink down. "You mean because everyone is here for Bandfest? Don't listen to this one, lovey, he's incorrigible. The crowds will be in later on, but you're a bit early."

"Shh, Roz. Who's up tonight?" The prince asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you want insider information? What's in it for me?"

"Givin' away free tattoos, could autograph yer arm, love."

"I'll pass, thanks. The brackets are up in an hour anyway. It's Night Terrors vs. Death Rapture, Blood Prophecy vs. Cherry Bomb, Spider Punks vs. Neon Requiem…"

"Why are the punk bands going up against the metal bands?" I asked, just as the prince inquired about Phantom Pulse.

"There wasn't a lot of quality competition this year, or that's what the sponsors said, so they automatically advance to the semifinals since they won last year."

"Bollocks!" The prince cried, his outrage palpable.

"Oi Punk, you don't want to sign with Vic Luna at Zenith Music Group, anyway."

"Tu…ne le fais pas? Mais pourquoi?" {You…don't? But why?} The words tumbled out, my curiosity getting the better of me. At her blank stare, I repeated the question in English, heat rising to my cheeks.

Roz leaned in, her voice low, "Look kid, it's complicated…"

The prince rolled his eyes, a sneer playing at his lips. "Betrayed a lot of good bands."

"You don't need to remind me, Punk, I lived through it. Despite the changes at Zenith Music Group, they still organize the annual Bandfest, which showcases both established and emerging talent in the punk and metal scenes. The event is highly respected within the community and provides a platform for bands to gain exposure and connect with fans," the bartender continued, her words stilted, rehearsed.

"Ay, and they are the sponsor bringing in your crowds." The prince's voice was sharp, laced with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"The only time we're out of the red, punkass. We'd have to shut down if it weren't for the Battle." She said heavily, "Which is the greater evil, we are a place of refuge for several members of the community, not just you."

"You don't need to remind me Roz, I'm living through it. Right, I'll stop ragging on the corporate sods for now, until you have some plausible deniability." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"There's a good Punk." Roz smiled, sliding him another pint before retreating.

I made a mental note to warn my bandmates about Vic and Zenith's sordid history. We were in this for the music, not the money, no one played metal for the money--but it never hurt to be cautious.

"Roz is like the den mother of the London punk scene, a living testament to grit and resilience, and screaming yourself hoarse at basement shows. Dream t'be like her when I grow up. To listen without judgment, offer advice without preaching, and know when to slide a shot of whiskey across the bar and when to cut you off. She has a way of looking at you, really seeing you, like you matter… like you are more than just another face in the crowd." His voice trails off, heavy with emotion. He blinks and shakes it off.

"Can I see it?" The prince's voice cut through our lost thoughts, his fingers reaching for my notebook.

I clutched it to my chest, a knee-jerk reaction. "Can you look into my very soul, like Roz?"

His smirk widened, that Cheshire cat grin that set my heart racing. He nodded, a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he purred, and I felt my stomach flip. I repeated the phrase in my mind, first in French, then in English, just to be sure I'd heard him right. Wasn't this some flirty idiom?

"You have a book of poetry somewhere hidden in those skinny jeans, mon ami?" {my friend?} I ask, hesitant, double-checking his meaning. He flirts like others breathe.

In lieu of an answer, he produced a sharpie from thin air. Before I could protest, he had my arm in his grasp, his touch electric against my skin. I shrugged off my leather jacket, baring my arms to his ink-stained fingers. Roz chuckled as she set another drink before me, clearly amused by the prince's antics.

"You'll need it…I see you took this wanker up on the free tattoo offer. Don't let him draw any on your arms."

"Any? …Any what?"

"Wankers," she clarified with a laugh. It clarifies nothing, I need to study my British slang.

"I would not mar the flesh of such a beautiful and willing participant, Roz. Kindly fuck off," the prince mumbled around the sharpie cap clenched between his teeth.

Between the verses he scrawled, he peppered me with questions, his voice a giddy whisper.

"So, who's your poison, love? Which bands get your motor runnin'?"

"Ah, j'adore Rammstein, Gojira, et bien sûr, Motörhead. And so many others, doesn't even scratch the surface. Et toi?" {Ah, I love Rammstein... And you?}

"Proper choices, those. For me, it's the classics - Sex Pistols, The Clash, Buzzcocks. Real raw, in-your-face stuff, y'know?"

I leaned in, excited, but too close. I nearly jumped as my lips grazed the dusky shell of his ear. "Ah, un homme de bon goût! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, c'était incroyable!" {Ah, a man of good taste! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, it was incredible!}

"No bleedin' way! Metal chick like you? I'd give me left bollock to have seen the Sex Pistols live. But I did catch The Clash back in '07. Changed me life, it did."

"Lemmy, sans aucun doute. The man's a legend!" {Lemmy, without a doubt.} I declare into the bar.

"Oi, don't go disrespectin' Johnny, now! The bloke's a punk icon, 'e is!"

"You're a punk icon!" someone shouted from the back, but the prince waved them off with a grin.

"Oh, I didn't catch your name," I said, with a sudden shame, my brow furrowed.

"Everyone just calls me Punk. You can too. Just not dirty punk, we don't want to come to blows, do we, love?"

"I'd kick your ass, mon ami. Pas grand chose à donner, mon petit prince des fées… eh mon prince dégingandé, right? I would not describe you as petite even if you are skinny." {I'd kick your ass, my friend. Not much to give, my little fairy prince… eh my lanky prince, right?}

Miguel was at my side in an instant, all rippling muscle and furrowed consternation. "Carnalita, {little sis} why did you sneak out on practice just to drink in this hellhole?" he rumbled, disapproval lacing every sonorous word. Tenderness faded a bit.

I met his gruff chiding with an insouciant toss of my hair. "Salut, Miguel. Ça fait longtemps." {Hello, Miguel. It's been a while.}

"Is that Jack? No puedo mas… Carnalita…This shit is bad for you." {I can't take it anymore…little sis...}

"Je nais etre rond comme une queue de pelle. Tu es vraiment un trou de balle quand tu dis des choses pareilles!" {I would be round as a shovel handle. (Idiom, essentially she is saying ~ I was born to be drunk) You are really a dumbass when you say things like that!}

Miguel's grumbling stream of Spanish reprimands washed over me as I settled into our familiar dynamic - the tender yet terse cantata of friend and protector that had composed them score of our relationship since childhood. For all his bluster, I knew every arrhythmic cadence encoded Miguel's steadfast affection.

Only Gabriel's soft interjection could salve the rising discord. "You worry too much, Miggy. We've been practicing all week."

He cast me a plaintive glance, silently pleading for conciliation, and I grudgingly obliged with an internal eyeroll. "Qu'il aille se faire! C'est vraiment chiant tu te rends compte." {Let him go fuck himself! It's really annoying, you know.}

Heedless of my saucy french asides, Miguel merely drew a fortifying breath before continuing in that maddening timbre of unrelenting reason. "Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out alone in an unknown city - it's not safe for you, mi carnalita."

The prince leaned towards us with a lazy smirk, "S'not that serious. The Rusty Nail is safe enough." He paused as the bartender snorted in agreement before continuing, "We're keeping the lady safe, mate…you can trust me, I'm one of the Spider-Punks."

Miguel simply sneered at the prince's proffered handshake, dismissing it out of hand. "You have arms like sticks. How would you keep her safe?"

The punk's smirk widened as he shrugged. "Ah, one of those. Never skip leg day, eh bruv?"

I strangled a guffaw as Gabriel hastened to run interference, engulfing the punk's hand eagerly. "We've heard of you guys, the local punk band, yeah? Your drummer is…gahh…Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?"

"You call that punk noise "rock"?" Miguel scoffed. "Metal is where the real skill lies…Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude."

I rolled my eyes. At this rate, I'd have to drag Miguel out before he started a brawl.

"Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non?" {Ah, but no, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, right?}

Miguel grunted, but squeezed my hand.

I stood, motioning for him to lean in close. "Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord? I learned some things about the record company. We should talk in private." {Come on, let's save the competition for the stage, okay?}

The prince unfolded himself, towering over me. "Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops," he challenged.

Gabriel chimed in, "Pero, mana's right, Miguel." {But, sister is right, Miguel.}

Miguel looked ready to explode, but Gabriel's eyes held him in check.

"Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show, and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?" Gabriel said.

The prince leaned in, lips grazing my cheek. "Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. How about we give 'em a show they won't forget…later?"

I grinned, "Oui! A collaboration? Here… Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard…mais, pour vous. I want it back later." {Yes! A collaboration? Here…It doesn't break three duck legs (Idiom ~ It's nothing special) …but, for you. I want it back later.}

The lanky punk sauntered off, his studded boots leaving faint trails of glitter on the barroom floor. Miguel's scowl deepened as he watched him depart, fists clenched tightly.

"Is that your poetry notebook?" he growled, voice rumbling low.

"Yes, I traded it to the punk faerie for these tattoos, I smirked, revealing the vine-like scrawl of ink now adorning my flesh like raised scars from whipping brambles.

Miguel's face darkened further, storm clouds gathering at my words. "The one you never let anyone touch or read…"

His voice strangled to a whisper, and I could not parse the complex calculus of emotions flitting behind his eyes

Gabriel placed a calming hand on his brother's arm.

"Easy, hermano {brother}. He's not worth it," Gabriel said in a soothing tone.

"Be nice, Punk is a good guy. I like him," I countered softly, a warm glow blossomed within me as I realized my entire arm was now a crawling garden of sentences entirely in French.

Miguel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a heated retort, but Gabriel cut in, "Should we go look at the brackets to see who we're facing?"

"It looks like my entire arm is covered with quotes from The Little Prince, which happens to be my favorite book. It's actually quite a sweet gesture," I said softly, fingertips grazing the raised words like treasured runes.

With renewed curiosity, I examined the ink quote now etched on my skin: "Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l'oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire." {You are the master of your life and your emotions, never forget that. For better or worse.}

I didn't mention the lone scrawl that could have been a phone number hidden amidst the literary foliage now vining my limb. Miguel was in full-on Dad mode, and I didn't need to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I already know the competition for the quarterfinals, we don't need to waste our time. Come on, manos {used as slang for brother}, we're going to kick some ass!" I giggled brightly, elated at my new 'tattoos' scrawling up my arms. I didn't put my leather jacket back on, I didn't want to cover any of it up.

Miguel's glare never wavered, his eyes fixed on the far side of the bar where the prince had disappeared into the crowd. "Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita {little sister}, time for practice."

With a resigned sigh, I surrendered to my brothers' insistent tugs, allowing them to lead me from the Rusty Nail. But the punk prince's parting words still reverberated through my mind like the lingering notes of a siren song. Later, he had purred, that single hushed syllable seeming to contain all the intoxicating lure of a siren's call - equal parts velvet promise and brazen challenge, twined inextricably into an enchantment I could not resist. The whole damn bar was a sailor's nightmare.

[mrblank-0]

Fused!Verse Fan-made Semi-Canon Fusions

All the art was made by @w0lf-g

The Fusions were made by @entityglitch

All these Fusions includes a character from the Au, Void!Tale

Void!Tale was made by Dantekris Time Show

===========================================

Mortem, The Fusion of

Apareka made by Dantekris Time Show

Anti-Life!Sans made by Godmaster44

Starred!Sans made by Starred!SansPerson

Partum, The Fusion of

Senusret made by Dantekris Time Show

Kindred!Sans made by Trica13

Universe!Sans made by Victor Magiv

Partum Blaster/Ship

Iudex, The Fusion of

Paragon made by Dantekris Time Show

Order!Sans made by JumbledUpMagic

Justice!Sans made by GineSan

Tenebris, The Fusion of

Void made by Dantekris Time Show

Judge!Papyrus made by @mrblank-0

Crash!Sans made by @mrblank-0

Vita, The Fusion of

Akasha made by Dantekris Time Show

Aeon!Papyrus made by Eternal Loser

Archangel!Sans made by Goklababa

Deus, The Fusion of

Amara made by Dantekris Time Show

God!Sans made by ???

Godverse!Sans made by Ultimate9210

Regius, The Fusion of

Semiramis made by Dantekris Time Show

King Multiverse made by @vibeless15

Time!Sans made by ???

Mayhem, The Fusion of

Leylani made by Dantekris Time Show

Nemesis made by @yamata41

Fracture!Sans made by @entityglitch

Regius Chrono Phoenix transformation

[thelensofyashunews]

Mach-Hommy Explores Diasporic Duality on New Album #RICHAXXHAITIAN

Mach-Hommy–the acclaimed and prolific artist who keeps his government name unpublished, maintains no social media presence, and covers his face with a bandana of the Haitian flag–releases #RICHAXXHAITIAN, his first solo studio album since 2021, out now on all platforms. Released in time for Haitian Flag Day (May 18th), #RICHAXXHAITIAN channels the troubled political evolution of Haiti, as well as its rich cultural inheritance. Galvanized by the country's turbulent past, Mach-Hommy presents a beacon towards a better future.

#RICHAXXHAITIAN is the fourth album in a tetralogy of albums that examine Mach-Hommy's relationship with his homeland and provide a wide-ranging account of how its issues intersect with problems facing the world at large. While the first album in the series, H.B.O. (Haitian Body Odor), reclaimed an ugly stereotype, and his two acclaimed 2021 albums, Pray For Haiti and Balens Cho (Hot Candles), chronicled hardship and recovery, #RICHAXXHAITIAN is a small musical panacea for his homeland amidst poverty and political strife, combating the public's negative images of Haiti by focusing on the greatness and prosperity of the country's diaspora. Over the course of the album, Mach-Hommy emphasizes the country's potential, strategizing ways that his troubled homeland could become an exemplar of Black cultural and economic excellence.

#RICHAXXHAITIAN draws from a variety of musical styles, welcoming producers like Grammy-winning producer Conductor Williams, along with Multi-Grammy-winning producer KAYTRANADA, Grammy-nominated producer Quelle Chris, longtime associate Sadhu Gold, and others, to indulge their most creative impulses. The album progresses from vintage samples from the pre-rock era to futuristic electronic, jazz, and soul music, sketching a potential path for Haiti to evolve from developing nation to Afro-Futurist paradise.

Last week's single, "#RICHAXXHAITIAN," a collaboration with KAYTRANADA and L.A. legend 03 Greedo, exemplifies Mach in the latter mode, using a house-inflected instrumental and an interpolation of Afrobeat legend Odion Iruoje's "Ikebe" to provide a luxurious platform for both emcees to flex their hard-earned wealth. Focus track "COPY COLD," produced by Quelle Chris, draws from the other end of the spectrum. The song features a guest verse from Black Thought, who has long praised Mach-Hommy and called him one of his favorite emcees, as both emcees unfurl some of their densest verses to date. Originally recorded as a demo during a difficult period of Mach's life, nearly ten years ago, Mach was inspired to dust off the old tape with the hopes of collaborating with an emcee of Black Thought's caliber on the track. Over Quelle Chris's rippling piano instrumental, the two rappers beat against the current mode of label-driven rap beef, instead elevating the art of the emcee with kindred spirit collaboration.

03 Greedo and Black Thought lead a long list of collaborators that make #RICHAXXHAITIAN one of Mach-Hommy's most ambitious albums to date. Mach connects with R&B/jazz luminary HEPHZIBAH on "SONJE," an Afro-Futurist and psychedelic highlight that approaches the dissonant highs of 70s jazz fusion. Buffalo-based activist/singer/songwriter Drea D'Nur graces "POLITickle" with her luminous vocals, putting a button on a song that directly comments on how global capitalism tramples culture and fosters poverty. Mach rolls out the red carpet for Roc Marciano on the brief, but brilliant "ANTONOMASIA," as the two underground heroes trade verses over big band jazz samples and tribal drums. Mach feels right at home when rapping with frequent collaborators like Your Old Droog, Tha God Fahim, and Big Cheeko, providing a familiar anchor for longtime fans and ice cold bars for anyone who might not be familiar with their chemistry.

Born in Newark and raised in Port-Au-Prince amongst the elders of his culture, Mach-Hommy has always strongly identified with his home country's struggle, and his people's resilience. Haiti was the world's first Black republic formed as the result of a successful slave revolt. The Caribbean nation's very existence was a thumb in the nose of white supremacy, heralding the gleaming potential of Black self-government in the new world. Of course, the colonial powers could not let this stand: shortly after Haiti won independence, its former colonial overlord France levied a punitive tax, designed to cripple the young nation's economy and prevent it from growing into a power in the Caribbean. Still, despite the various man-made and natural disasters that have plagued the island nation over the centuries, the people of Haiti have grown strong, developing an influential cultural tradition and a vibrant diaspora, of which Mach-Hommy is a proud member. 

Attempting to transform our modern dystopia into a utopia using only his rhymes and force of will, Mach-Hommy invites us all, from his most loyal investors to his freshest fans, to imagine a brand new world. With #RICHAXXHAITIAN, that seemingly impossible dream creeps ever closer.

“I’ve always wanted to rep for Haiti and the cultural and intellectual richness we’ve provided the world,” Mach-Hommy says. “From our musical styles like kontradans  that have influenced world music, our natural resources which provide so much raw  material for so many important advancements in technology, our thinkers that  pioneered philosophical movements and Black pride, and our spiritual leaders who  kept the religious traditions of Guinea alive and intact, the religious traditions of Ayiti….” 

Buy #RICHAXXHATIAN on vinyl, CD, and cassette at Zotanica

[blush-boulevard]

𝓜𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓬 𝓙𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝔂

𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑- Y/N, a talented songwriter, gets the chance of a lifetime to collaborate with her idol, Suga from BTS.

female reader/ Min Yoongi x reader/ fluff/ romance/ idol AU/ BTS/ BANGTAN SONYEONDAN/ ARMY/ Min Yoongi/ SUGA/ one shot

word count: 1199

~ @nikisgirl15 ｜𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬｜𝑅𝒰𝐿𝐸𝒮 𝒜𝒩𝒟 𝒢𝒰𝐼𝒟𝐸𝐿𝐼𝒩𝐸𝒮｜𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘｜𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ~

In a quiet corner of a bustling café, a young woman named Y/N sat hunched over her laptop, her eyes glued to the screen. Her fingers danced over the keyboard, crafting melodies and lyrics that only she could hear. Her heart pounded in her chest, the rhythm echoing the beats of the music playing softly in her earphones. She had been waiting for this moment for months. An email had arrived, a chance to collaborate with her favorite idol, Min Yoongi, known to the world as Suga from BTS.

Y/N took a sip of her now-cold coffee, her nerves fluttering like a caged bird. She had been a fan of BTS since their debut, and Suga's introspective rap verses and soulful compositions had always resonated with her. Little did she know that her talent for writing would one day lead her to this juncture. The café's ambiance was comforting, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups creating a gentle backdrop to her creative process. She had chosen this place for its anonymity, a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour she was about to step into.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was a message from the record label, confirming the time and place for the meeting. She checked her watch, realizing she had less than an hour to prepare. With trembling hands, she saved her work and packed up her things. The café's warm lights flickered as she stepped out into the cool evening air, the city's neon glow painting the sidewalks with vibrant colors.

The taxi ride to the studio was a blur of anticipation and doubt. What would he think of her? Would they click? Her mind raced with questions she had no answers to. As she stepped out of the car, she took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the nondescript building. It was a place where magic was made, where dreams became reality, and she was about to walk through its doors. The cool metal handle of the door felt solid under her grip, grounding her as she pushed it open and stepped into the unknown.

The receptionist, a friendly face, checked her in and guided her through the maze of hallways to the recording studio. She could feel the vibrations of music pulsating through the walls, each beat seemingly growing louder with every step she took. When she finally entered the room, she saw him—Suga—sitting on a plush sofa, his headphones around his neck, a pencil tapping restlessly against a notepad. He looked up, his gaze meeting hers, and she felt a jolt of energy run through her body.

Suga stood up, a small smile playing on his lips, and extended a hand. "You must be Y/N," he said, his voice warm and welcoming. She nodded, taking his hand in a firm but slightly trembling grip. He noticed her nerves and gave her a reassuring nod. "Don't worry, we're going to make something amazing together." His confidence was contagious, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

They spent hours in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, sharing laughs, and finding a rhythm that only two kindred spirits could. The air was thick with creativity, and Y/N felt more alive than she had in a long time. Suga's storytelling abilities and her knack for melodies complemented each other perfectly. In between takes, they shared stories of their journeys, their struggles, and their love for music. It was then that she revealed her family's lack of support, and she saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He leaned in and whispered, "Keep going. Your music is your voice, and it's heard by millions." His words were a balm to her soul, and she felt a bond forming that went beyond music.

As the night grew late, they decided to take a break. Suga suggested they grab a bite to eat, and they ended up at a small, dimly lit restaurant that served the best ramen in town. The warmth of the broth and the chewiness of the noodles seemed to melt away the tension of the day. They talked about their favorite movies, the books that changed their lives, and the foods that reminded them of home. Y/N found herself drawn to his candidness, his ability to be vulnerable and open about his own challenges.

Suga shared how his parents had initially opposed his music career, not seeing the potential in it. "They wanted me to have a stable job," he said, his eyes reflecting the memory. "But I knew that music was what made me happy. And when I started to make a name for myself, they saw the joy it brought to others and eventually came around." His words resonated with Y/N, offering a glimmer of hope for her own family's acceptance.

The conversation grew more intimate as they swapped stories of their darkest moments and their most triumphant achievements. Suga spoke of the time when he thought about giving up, how the love of his fans had kept him going. Y/N listened, her heart swelling with admiration and a newfound respect for the man she had only known through his music.

They returned to the studio, their spirits rejuvenated. The collaboration grew more intense, their eyes meeting across the room as they worked in silent understanding. The music flowed like a river, carrying them along its banks, weaving their hearts together in a tapestry of harmony. The late-night sessions turned into early mornings, and before they knew it, the sun was peeking through the blinds, casting a soft glow over their creation.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, and it was clear to both of them that their relationship had shifted from a professional one to something more. One evening, as they sat side by side on the sofa, listening to the playback of their latest masterpiece, Suga reached out and took Y/N's hand in his. His thumb traced circles on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, and whispered, "Thank you for understanding me, for sharing your music with me."

The moment hung in the air, charged with emotion. Y/N turned to look at him, her eyes searching his. They were so close she could feel the beat of his heart, matching the tempo of the music that filled the room. She didn't need to say a word; her eyes spoke volumes. Suga closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with comfort and promise, a silent declaration of the connection that had been growing between them.

Their collaboration had become more than just a music project; it had become a shared journey of growth and self-discovery. As they worked on the final touches of their song, their chemistry spilled over into every note and lyric. They knew that this was only the beginning of something beautiful, something that had the power to resonate with people all over the world. And as they stepped out of the studio, hand in hand, the sunrise painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, they were ready to face whatever came next, together.

[foxcort]

Nesta should’ve known better than to tell her not to do something.

written for day 3: alternate universe of @feylinweek. / or dusk court princess feyre and spring court prince tamlin au 🌹

a/n: a note beforehand for some revised world building: so instead of the canon version of everyone celebrating 'holidays/events' in their own court, i thought it would be cooler if the celebrations were held in the court themed after it! for example everyone would go to the spring court for calanmai, summer court for summer solstice, night court for starfall, etc. and i've done just that for the summer solstice celebration in this little fic! oh and also high ladies are just a normal Thing in this au.

tw: it gets kinda risqué towards the end but nothing explicit

“Keep clear of Bhaltair’s sons.” Nesta’s whisper, so close to the shell of her ear, sent an involuntary shiver up Feyre’s back, even as she glanced up and across the crowded Summer Palace at the three honey-blond males standing near the High Lord of Spring like sentinels.

An irritated gust of wind left Nesta’s lips. “Don’t look.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t. Nesta should’ve known better than to tell her not to do something.

“Just— Be careful.” Her sister’s eyes rolled, mouth set in a thin line. “From what I hear, they’re not a far step from their father.” And with that she set a path towards the gardens, no doubt seeking Elain, the dusky purple of her dress trailing after her.

Sipping delicately at the faerie wine clutched in her hand, Feyre risked another glimpse at the offending High Lord and his sons, eyes peering over her glass, guided by the almost electric feeling in the air brought on by the Summer Solstice celebrations.

The eldest was standing closest to his father, an air of arrogance strong enough for her to feel from even across the room surrounding him. He spoke in tandem to the High Lord’s cadence — learning how to play court politics from someone who was well versed in it — as other High Fae sought them out.

The second, most distinguishable from the generous length of his hair, did nothing to hide the bored, irritated look on his face, though he stood diligently by his father and brothers’ sides.

The youngest . . . Feyre’s gaze lingered on him where he stood behind them all. He was dressed similarly to his brothers, in rich, airy clothing of warm greens and wood brown, though the tunic clung a little tighter to his chest than the others. His head was angled slightly downward, arms loosely clasped behind him, a neutral expression on his face.

A flicker of kindred loneliness flew through her. Bhaltair and the High Lady of the Dusk Court were not so different in the ways they showed their youngest children affection.

As if he could feel that twinge of emotion, his eyes suddenly lifted, brilliant green cutting through the room and snagging onto hers. Feyre nearly jumped, dropping her gaze and taking another sip of the faerie wine to busy herself, as her heart thundered in her chest. When she gained the courage to peek in his direction again, she saw he was no longer looking at her, but a wide, dimpled smile curved his mouth.

It was her turn to make an irritated noise, setting her glass down on the nearest table, and weaving effortlessly through the crowd, intent on not sparing the youngest another glance. The cacophony of the celebrations slowly died out as she walked further and further away, making the sound of following footsteps all the more prominent.

Still, she didn't look back.

Not until it felt like she and him were the only two people in the entire Summer Palace. Only then did she stop short, abruptly grabbing the door handle to what she knew was an empty room and threw it open. A soft laugh chased her in, and the two of them stumbled into the dark room, his hand finding hers, fingers twining as he placed a kiss upon the back of it.

The door closed shut. "Did I do something wrong?" Even in the dark, she could hear the smile in his voice.

Feyre didn't pull her hand from his — she'd missed the touch of him too much — but she held herself from completely melting in his embrace. "Besides making it very obvious that we're not exactly strangers?"

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb stroking over her skin. "It's not easy when you look at me like that." Something kicked in her chest at the soft way he teased her. Not at the insinuation that her own perusal of him wasn't very stealthy either. But at the thoughts, the feelings that had occupied her for the briefest of seconds.

He had felt it — that drop of loneliness welling within her — even with a crowd of fae between them.

Understanding that she wasn't ready to speak about it yet, he went to his knees in front of her, one hand stroking up her bare leg, through the slit down the side of her dress. "I know a few ways I could beg for forgiveness."

Heat scorched through her and his palm felt like a brand upon her skin. Feyre's breath hitched, "Then beg."

A sharp, feral grin replaced his moments-ago soft laughter and Feyre was reminded that despite all the pleasantry and the fine clothing, he was as wild and unbidden as a spring storm.

But before he could put that mouth to good use, her fingers clutched at his chin and she tilted his face upward, earning a low chuckle of approval. "Tamlin," she warned, "Watch your claws this time." Feyre felt his fingers flex over the back of her thigh, rising higher. "It was easy to convince mother the tear in my dress was my own clumsiness, but I think Nesta's suspicious."

Tamlin turned his face into the palm of her hand, placing a kiss there as he murmured, "I'll be careful. I'm sorry."

Again, she felt that kick to her heart. And the image of him kneeling in front of her, the husky confession falling from his lips, the thrill of being cloaked in darkness— control and caution was quickly slipping through her fingers.

Feyre pulled him upward even as she descended, meeting him halfway in a searing kiss. He quickly rose to his feet again, lifting her into his arms, her thighs framing his hips, her back pressed against the nearest wall. Until there was not even a breath of space between them.

"Tamlin." A breathless gasp of his name. Somewhere between a demand and a plea, and he understood as he traced his affections over her skin.

Here, in this clandestine pocket of their world, she could pretend they were miles away.

Here, she felt the rhythm of his heart beneath her palms and knew that it beat for her.

a/n: basically what if the secret rendezvous utm was done in a less stressful (less lives on the line) situation. named after the moonvine flower because they bloom at dusk (feyre) + they're flowers (tamlin) can you tell im so good at fic titles. hope you guys enjoyed this one!

[kavalyera]

desire for dr kelley

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

Dr. Kelley desires to understand the unknown, as ambitious as that is. She wants to be so stupidly intelligent you might aswell call her a walking, talking version of Google or something. For further yapping, in her original SCP au (since she was my SCP OC before I beat her ass into VTM) she wanted to understand what made anomalous properties…. well, anomalous. In VTM it’s the same thing with kindred, trying to understand physiology and supernatural capabilities of kindred. Not a Ventrue way of doing things but if I could talk more about her SCP verse then you’d understand why I made her a Ventrue :)

More on her SCP base au: She’s a reality bender that knows the fourth wall exists and knows she’s doomed by the narrative and did everything in her power to learn about every adversary which included learning mass amounts of knowledge in the universe(s) she treaded through. She’s done everything to remain in power in the Foundation, reversing timelines and outcomes. She’s way too OP back in her SCP verse but you gotta remember I made her like when I was 12 and worked on her for SIX years so yeah 👍

( not-so-nice ask game )

[sehtoast]

Kindred (ftm!Homelander x ftm!OC Smut)

18+

1.6k

AU Where Ben and Homelander are not intimate until later in season 3. Just some indulgent couch-breakdown Homelander t4t smut.

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Warnings: Oral sex, Homelander's bottom dysphoria manifesting in calling himself inadequate.

The fates always had a wicked way with him, did they not? Kicking him when he was down, throwing curve balls left and right for him to adjust to. 

We have a situation– Yeah. Yeah, now, please.

It was the shaking of her voice that bothered him the most. 

Like he'd done something wrong. 

As though she wasn't the one who barged in unannounced. 

He rolls his already teary eyes. 

On my way, he heard faintly, the voice on the other end of the phone all too familiar to his already aching heart. 

But he couldn't move a muscle. All he could do was sit there with the remote, rewinding and resetting the video of his speech. 

"I'm stronger! I'm better!" 

Waiting for that familiar voice to barge in as well.

He'd broken decorum. He lashed out– let the mask slip. What would become of him in the court of public opinion? 

He hears her tell the new arrival that he needs to deliver the news. He can hear the unsettled shudder in her tone as she dances around the truth of what has her so frazzled. 

Just get in there, Ashley tells him. 

He tries to brace himself– to rise from the couch and throw, at the very least, his underwear on before his next visitor can come in and find shock in his difference.

His body doesn't move. 

Only his thumb, to press rewind again. 

"I am done being persecuted for my strength!" 

He hears a knock, not too harsh, before that voice calls out to him. 

"Hey, John?" The spider calls out to him. "Mind if I come in?" 

He's given the courtesy of a warning, this time. The bug always did give him more than others. His penthouse had no front door, and the vast majority of his visitors tended to just waltz in as though they owned the place. 

Not Benjamin. 

He doesn't reply– just pauses the video as though the silence could speak for him. 

He hears the padding of footsteps approaching him slowly. John's gut dropped in anticipation of another unpleasant reaction. 

"Oh," he hears. He doesn't look up. Doesn't want to. 

He doesn't want to see his best and only friend react to what he lacked. The dismay he felt from the last twenty-four hours stopped him from realizing Ben's voice carried no shock, no discomfort, no awe at his difference. 

"So, Ashley wanted me to come up and tell you about your numbers, but…" Ben trails off, walking over to the other side of the couch, his eyes never falling down to observe his lack save for the initial once over.  "Did- Did she actually give me a passcode locked tablet and expect..?" 

Ben scoffs a laugh and tosses it onto the couch nonchalantly. 

"Did you really expect her to use her brain?" He asks, a jest present but delivered without the proper inflection. 

"Do we ever?" 

It's the first a smile has cracked at his lips in nearly a day. 

The remote is coaxed from his hand, and the TV is shut off. 

"You shouldn't do that to yourself," the bug tells him. "Are you cold?" 

Was he cold? Was he, the fucking Homelander, cold? 

"Why? D'you want me to cover up?"

There's a question underneath his question. 

Do you need the anomaly put away?

The only thing, to this day, that ever stopped Homelander from jumping Benjamin's bones was the idea that his lack of… anatomy would dash any hopes of a positive response. 

It wouldn't be the first time someone had rejected his body– but it would certainly be the only time he couldn't pretend that he was unbothered.

The only time he found true value in another's opinion of himself. 

"No, I–" Ben breathed gently. "I want you to be comfortable." 

What part of my life has ever been comfortable, Homelander calls out from inside his mind. 

"Does my body make you uncomfortable?" He asks, a bitter inquisitiveness on his tongue.

The way Benjamin's brow flicks upward before he shakes his head no makes a smirk tug at John's lips. 

The hand that held the remote sought Ben's, his fingers lacing through the spider's gloved ones in a display of affection he was near petrified to show. 

He watches Benjamin bring his free hand to his mouth, biting the fingertips of his glove to remove it before bringing his bare hand down to rest against his. 

John begins to feel a hunger, the comfort of flesh calling to him loudly.

Sure, with his superpowered senses, he could smell the drips of his own arousal beginning to gather from the moment Benjamin arrived. But, at some point, he knew Benny could smell him too– so naked and exposed. 

The flare of the web-head's nostrils on a not-so-subtly deep breath gave it away. 

It makes him clench– makes his clit twitch in anticipation. 

"You'd be surprised…" Ben exhales, "at what you don't know about me." 

Oh, but he knew. He knew they were the same.

But, it was different when it was him compared to when it was Ben.  When it was Benjamin, it was a character trait.

When it was him, it was a shortcoming.

Just another inadequacy.

There had always been such carnal tension between them– unspoken and left to fester.  Every day it seemed to grow and grow, but every day John feared the web-head would find him lacking.

“What do you need from me, John?”  Ben murmured, his thumb stroking over John’s hand.

Entranced was certainly one word for how he felt as his free hand began to run the length of Benjamin’s arm, all the way to where the neckline of his suit met his throat.  He ran a finger along the seam, hooking the tip underneath to lightly pull…

“I…” he began, the words catching on a tight breath.  “N-Need you…”

Ben’s eyes floated down to his lips, lingering on them.

“Show me where,” the web-head whispered, offering his bare hand as though it were a tool to be used to John’s every whim.

Homelander pulled him forward by the collar, brushing their lips together– featherlight at first– finally, oh, god, finally sealing that long awaited contact.  As they kissed, John pressed Ben’s hand to his chest, shuddering at the way his little spider’s nails dragged softly through the smatterings of hair as he guided him lower, lower, and lower.

The first touch to his wetness had John keening into the kiss, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as Ben dragged his slick on two fingers to his clit, rubbing him with a pressure so perfect that it tingled down to his legs.

His hand overtop of Ben’s went to his wrist, gripping as he panted into the web-head’s mouth, a string of saliva connecting them when they separated.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous…” Ben breathed against him, finally sinking two fingers deep into John’s cunt, groaning at the way his walls clenched around him immediately.  “Thaaat’s it…”

Ben shifted, his fingers never leaving Homelander’s heat as he maneuvered to kneel before him.  

John choked on a breath when Benjamins’ tongue swiped his engorged clit before sucking it into his mouth, laving flat figures over the head as his fingers squelched on each thrust.

“B-Ben…” he whimpered, reaching down to tangle his fingers in the curtains of the web-head’s hair.

A moan rumbled against him, stimulating him further.

“You taste so good,” Ben murmured as he withdrew his fingers, licking them clean.  He looked to Homelander for a moment, pressing a kiss to the curve of his mound.  “Lay back and let me take care of you…”

It took a hand pressing him flat, but John complied.  He gasped at the way Ben gripped his hips and pulled him closer to the edge of the couch, leaving his pussy and rim on display– his legs resting overtop of Benny’s shoulders.

The web-head tensed his lips and dropped a glob of spit directly onto his clit, bringing a thumb up to rub his bud tantalizingly slow, leaning down to run his tongue between John’s folds, lapping up every drop of him.

Homelander had no idea when he started cresting to his peak– perhaps when Ben ran his tongue from his rim to his clit and sank his fingers in deep– but, fuck, he was close.

His body began to twitch with every crook of Benjamin’s digits against a spot that had his head thrown back in a whine, and he bucked against his spider’s mouth for any added friction he could find.

Suddenly, Benjamin was stood, leaning halfway over him to press a wet kiss to his lips, dragging Homelander’s own taste through his mouth with every swipe of his tongue.

“You’re doing so well,” Ben praised, a soaked thumb dragging along his cheekbone as his other hand’s digits kept their pace inside of him.  “I can feel every time you clench, y’know…” Ben slipped a third finger into him.  “Perfect…  So, so perfect…”

At the all consuming warmth of Ben taking his clit again, John threw his head back in bliss, his cunt throbbing and gushing against the web-head’s fingers as he thrust them in deep.  He called out his little spider’s name, howling it through tears that sizzled away from the heat in his eyes.

“Oh– oh fuck!”  He whimpered as Ben withdrew, his tongue taking the place of his fingers to lave him clean, his slurps ringing obscenely into the room.  Homelander pressed his fist to his mouth to keep from singing out further, to muffle the moans that spilled free from him.  “B-Benny!”

He panted heavily, eyelids leaden as Ben kissed a path from his clit to his neck, breaking away only to meet his lips.  His fingers fumbled around Benjamin’s super suit to seek entry.

As he and Benny lost themselves in each other, Homelander found himself almost a little grateful that Ashley was dumb enough to barge in unannounced.  If nothing else, that stupid open door policy brought him his little spider…

[mxldito]

Update: 9/5/2024

New verses added! Descriptions have been added to the blog and the carrd. I'll include them below the cut!

⮚ V: Blood Tide - Mermaid AU. This version of Coyote is nameless and a barracuda-like sea creature. Set in the 1850s, The Creature has recently taken to terrorizing coastal cities along the Gulf of Mexico, killing and eating those who may enter the sea or get too close to it with their guard down. With a bounty on their head, The Creature is wanted dead or alive. Eventually, it ends up captured and kept as a sideshow attraction.

⮚ V: They Call Them Five-Shot - Grindhouse/Mexploitation movie AU. Additionally, an Autarkis AU in which Coyote wanders across Mexico if only in search of a good fight and trouble to cause. Neither Kindred nor human organizations are safe from their trouble-making. This Coyote is more adept at hand-to-hand combat as well as gun fighting.

⮚ V: The Pencil Pusher - Ventrue Antitribu AU. Initially Embraced into the Camarilla as a Ventrue, Menendez is kept around the office as an underling sent to do errands and doing mundane data entry work. Stepped over, talked down upon, ignored by anybody with a sliver on seniority over them, watching stupid decision after stupid decision pass along the boardroom table… Menendez is at the end of their rope. External influences begin luring them into the grasp of the Sabbat and down a spiral of deception and increasingly alarming violence against members of their own Clan.

[weatherw1tch]

— drucilla’s character info sheet. (or a quick cheatsheet on relevant info regarding dru)

name: drucilla pritchard

name meaning: drucilla means “mighty, strong.”

alias/es: drucilla is an alias, adopted to hide herself from marines. it came from a book she liked as a kid. pritchard came later, to honor the woman that took her in as a teenager.

ethnicity: white (irish)

one picture you like: this in particular because i imagine it as one of her freer, happier moments. in a modern au, it was taken during college.

three hcs you never told anyone:

learned her forgery skills, not from any pirate or wayward character she met on her own, but her parents. her parents were not above forging signatures to keep a roof over their head while on the run. she picked up mimicking voices from people watching, and duplicating art through her natural predilection for painting. in her modern verse, it’s how she’s made extra money.

her first kill was through her devil fruit. ended up with her jaws around their lower torso, savaging the boy. she threw up for an hour afterward due to the taste of blood (and how much she liked it), and with how much she was regarded as a monster, and since then, puts her swordsmanship first and uses her power as backup. it’s worked better this way for the element of surprise.

despite her flighty, self-saving habits, she’s incredibly loyal. she’s someone who can pull stories from even the most curmudgeonly people. will honor debts even if it’s more work on her end. she loves hard after years of being afraid to.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

art. she’s a painter primarily, but sketches too. she doesn’t have much room to paint while on the sea, but in times when she has a stable place on land, hanging up her own art helps it feel like home. when she paints, she'll get it in her hair and on her clothes. many times, she leaves the splotches, liking the way it looks.

rock climbing. she’s always been fond of being out in nature, but after ten years of climbing ropes aboard pirate ships, she’s come to enjoy the familiarity and feel of being able to pull herself out of anything.

thrifting/antique shopping. she’s a great haggler with a good eye for special finds, but she also takes great appreciation in the history and make of items.

three four people your character loves (or important people mentioned in her canon):

iona pritchard. adoptive mother of sorts, village fortune teller that would never tell her if her powers were real or not. drucilla regrets keeping up a misguided wall between them, in holding tight to the memory of her birth parents. she took iona’s last name after her death.

isabela rivaini. captain and greatest friend. when drucilla found herself alone again and struggling, she met isabela and, after swapping similar stories, joined her crew. isabela taught her how to wield a sword, how to fight, how to sail. in return, drucilla gave her her utmost loyalty and use of her devil fruit powers.

dracule mihawk. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another mihawk, but as i’ve used mine to flesh out her character, he’s become quite important to her story. he does her the greatest favor of aiding her in rescuing isabela, which cements her loyalty and affection, and in doing so, they find a kindred soul in each other. he calls out her bullshit, and she never lets his attitude daunt her.

rob lucci. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another lucci, but as i've used mine to flesh out her character, he's become important to her story. they were childhood friends, both being orphans, before he was taken to guanhao. the loss hurt her deeply, until many years later when they reunited on opposite sides of the government / pirate divide.

two things your character regrets:

packing up and leaving after a fight with iona without letting her or the friends drucilla had made know. when drucilla came back to the village later, iona had died, and she was too guilt-ridden to check in with anyone else.

looking the other way when others were in life or death moments because she was more focused on saving her own skin.

two phobias your character has:

thunderstorms make her uneasy because she nearly drowned during one. she’s had a few close calls, but this one in particular was by far the closest. she felt her body start to shut down as she watched her crew get pulled under the water too.

the conflicting ideas that there’s either nothing after death or instead of heaven waiting for her, it’ll be hell, for all the horrible things she’s done.

extra headcanons:

can sing very well. in her band au with @a11sunday, she's a singer-songwriter tired of writing for other people who strikes out on her own at open mic nights.

knowledgeable about plants and flowers to an unexpected degree that comes from the brief period she was on her own. she usually has flower detailing on her clothes that she sews herself.

her first wanted poster doesn’t show all of her face, instead showing only her scarred eye and lower ¼th of her face peeking out from under the brim of her hat, like this. her updated poster after marineford shows the entirety of her face.

while she’s the type to be slow to rise in argument, usually having not necessarily a good head, but can pick and choose when she lets go of her anger, she has been banned from at least two bars across the four quadrants for threatening to bite someone and making good on it once.

[bisexuallsokka]

Hey, I hope this isn't an inconvenience, but I've just refallen into an atla rabbit hole and I would like some zukka fic recs that go a little deep ino Zuko's trauma maybe? Is that something you do? Fic rec lists?

hi!! haha i am arguably /the/ person to go to for fic rec lists so hell yeah my friend <3

i am going to focus on canon verse fics for this, let me know if you want modern aus that have this vibe too!

Blue

White Hot

Of soft hands and kindred spirits

One Touch Starved Firebender, Please

please give zuko a hug (series)

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding)

these are just off the top of my head and most of them are on the shorter side so let me know if you'd like more!! <3

[mothervonmayhem]

Battle of the Bands

▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ █▓▒░〈🎸🕷♪🕷♬🕷♪🎤〉░▒▓█ ▇ ▅ ▃ ▂ ▁

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

🕷Notable Characters: Hobie, Miguel, Gabriel, Gwen and 1st person pov OC / MC

🎸Premise: AU! The summer before college MC, Gabriel O'Hara, and Miguel O'Hara go on an international road trip with their metal band, Neon Requiem.  Destination?  BandFest, the Battle of the Bands in London guaranteed to secure the winning band a record deal.  They meet other ATSV characters along the way. 

🕷WC: 0:00 ————|——— -3,000 ↻ ◁ II ▷

🎤A/N: New Adult magical realism AU (obvi) brain worm that has grown from a 2-shot screenplay for some fun comics into a monster.  This fic is like Tremors in my brain.

───────────── {.⋅🕷 ♫ 🕷 ⋅.} ───────────────  

 ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : << Chapter 1 >> “Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l’oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire” 

The Rusty Nail's neon whir and raucous rhythms had been muted to a melancholy hum that evening, it was a ghost town, the emptiness of the dimly lit bar echoing with decades of unfulfilled longings. I nursed my drink, letting the smoky burn of liquor etch contours of quiet contemplation onto my throat as I surveyed the handful of kindred souls keeping solemn vigil. Life had been feeling heavy, and I needed to write, to make art, and to get lost in music.

At the far end of the bar hunched a beautiful wraith, his slim, angular frame sheathed in torn denim and studded leather. Something indefinable shimmered around him, unsung poetry, snippets of melodies, a symphony I could see and hear and almost touch. Drawn like a moth to the lambent glow of the music, I slid onto the stool beside the ethereal punk spectre. In my mind's eye, I crowned him the prince of punk, a fairy tale rebel.

Our bodies brushed intimately in the cramped space, raising ghosts of sensation along the exposed skin of my fishnets. "Wozzat, luv?" he murmured, kohl-rimmed eyes flickering over the point of contact with a soldering heat.

Mon dieu, {My God} Had I spoken my admiration aloud? A flush crept up my cheeks as I scrambled for a response.

"Désolé. Je répétais quelque chose pour ne pas l'oublier… Need to write it down before I lose it," {Sorry. I was repeating something so I wouldn't forget it…} I mumbled, a flimsy excuse for my wandering mind.

Fumbling through my bag, I pulled out my tattered notebook, fingers trembling as I scribbled down a scrap of verse inspired by the punk's incandescent presence beside me. I scribbled my observations in hasty strokes. The dying light of day bled into night, a liminal space that begged for a soundtrack. I could almost hear it, a melody just out of reach, shimmering in the smoky air.

"The liminal light of late afternoon, yawning into early evening…" I muttered, pulling on the strings of the melody, trying to draw it back to me. "I don't want to be loved for the things that I don't do. I don't want to be just a pretty face, I want to be a work of art…We are all just works of art."

The jukebox fell silent, making my mutterings around sift and strange, slightly unhinged---but the punk prince remained---his gaze heavy on my skin. I met his stare, unflinching. Unabashed curiosity flickered in eyes, wide brown and doe-like, framed by lashes so lush they seemed to blur the line between masculine and feminine, earthly and ethereal. I found myself dizzied by warring impulses - to flee this unsettling intimacy, or be consumed by it wholly.

He was a changeling, gorgeously androgynous: part punk Mona Lisa with a Cheshire cat grin, part Jean-Michel Baptiste, part force-of-fucking-nature. He made me feel like a background character in his story, could be a punk fairy princess, and I would be the dragon.

My thoughts raced, fragments of poetry and half-formed desires. I scribbled faster, chasing the threads of inspiration, but a nudge from my prince brought me back to earth.

Snatches of poetry, raw and unfinished, that I urgently longed to refine on the page before they dissipated like the last wisps of smoke in a spent ashtray. But the punk's aura dragged me too deeply into devotional reverie. I glanced up apologetically as my concentration scattered, the thread of inspiration slipping through my fingers once more.

The bartender had sprouted up directly in front of me, and she eyed me expectantly. Her hair was a shock of blue curls and silver streaks shorn close to her scalp, it made her eyes seem more gray. Her skin etched with lines that mapped out the years like a roadmap. I felt the familiar pang of a poem lost to the ether.

"Un…Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît," {A…Jack Daniel's, please} I said, no longer able to filter its lilt from my words, as I wasn't paying attention to dulling it.

"Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands event this week, love?"

"Oui, how did you know?" {Yes, how did you know?}

"Just a…sense," he demurred with a wicked grin. "Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know."

The bartender chuckled as she set my drink down. "You mean because everyone is here for Bandfest? Don't listen to this one, lovey, he's incorrigible. The crowds will be in later on, but you're a bit early."

"Shh, Roz. Who's up tonight?" The prince asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you want insider information? What's in it for me?"

"Givin' away free tattoos, could autograph yer arm, love."

"I'll pass, thanks. The brackets are up in an hour anyway. It's Night Terrors vs. Death Rapture, Blood Prophecy vs. Cherry Bomb, Spider Punks vs. Neon Requiem…"

"Why are the punk bands going up against the metal bands?" I asked, just as the prince inquired about Phantom Pulse.

"There wasn't a lot of quality competition this year, or that's what the sponsors said, so they automatically advance to the semifinals since they won last year."

"Bollocks!" The prince cried, his outrage palpable.

"Oi Punk, you don't want to sign with Vic Luna at Zenith Music Group, anyway."

"Tu…ne le fais pas? Mais pourquoi?" {You…don't? But why?} The words tumbled out, my curiosity getting the better of me. At her blank stare, I repeated the question in English, heat rising to my cheeks.

Roz leaned in, her voice low, "Look kid, it's complicated…"

The prince rolled his eyes, a sneer playing at his lips. "Betrayed a lot of good bands."

"You don't need to remind me, Punk, I lived through it.  Despite the changes at Zenith Music Group, they still organize the annual Bandfest, which showcases both established and emerging talent in the punk and metal scenes. The event is highly respected within the community and provides a platform for bands to gain exposure and connect with fans," the bartender continued, her words stilted, rehearsed.

"Ay, and they are the sponsor bringing in your crowds." The prince's voice was sharp, laced with an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"The only time we're out of the red, punkass. We'd have to shut down if it weren't for the Battle." She said heavily, "Which is the greater evil, we are a place of refuge for several members of the community, not just you."

"You don't need to remind me Roz, I'm living through it.  Right, I'll stop ragging on the corporate sods for now, until you have some plausible deniability." He raised his hands in mock surrender, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"There's a good Punk." Roz smiled, sliding him another pint before retreating.

I made a mental note to warn my bandmates about Vic and Zenith's sordid history. We were in this for the music, not the money, no one played metal for the money--but it never hurt to be cautious.

"Roz is like the den mother of the London punk scene, a living testament to grit and resilience, and screaming yourself hoarse at basement shows. Dream t'be like her when I grow up. To listen without judgment, offer advice without preaching, and know when to slide a shot of whiskey across the bar and when to cut you off. She has a way of looking at you, really seeing you, like you matter… like you are more than just another face in the crowd." His voice trails off, heavy with emotion. He blinks and shakes it off. 

"Can I see it?" The prince's voice cut through our lost thoughts, his fingers reaching for my notebook.

I clutched it to my chest, a knee-jerk reaction. "Can you look into my very soul, like Roz?"

His smirk widened, that Cheshire cat grin that set my heart racing. He nodded, a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he purred, and I felt my stomach flip. I repeated the phrase in my mind, first in French, then in English, just to be sure I'd heard him right. Wasn't this some flirty idiom?

"You have a book of poetry somewhere hidden in those skinny jeans, mon ami?" {my friend?} I ask, hesitant, double-checking his meaning. He flirts like others breathe.

In lieu of an answer, he produced a sharpie from thin air. Before I could protest, he had my arm in his grasp, his touch electric against my skin. I shrugged off my leather jacket, baring my arms to his ink-stained fingers. Roz chuckled as she set another drink before me, clearly amused by the prince's antics.

"You'll need it…I see you took this wanker up on the free tattoo offer. Don't let him draw any on your arms."

"Any? …Any what?"

"Wankers," she clarified with a laugh. It clarifies nothing, I need to study my British slang.

"I would not mar the flesh of such a beautiful and willing participant, Roz. Kindly fuck off," the prince mumbled around the sharpie cap clenched between his teeth.

Between the verses he scrawled, he peppered me with questions, his voice a giddy whisper.

"So, who's your poison, love? Which bands get your motor runnin'?"

"Ah, j'adore Rammstein, Gojira, et bien sûr, Motörhead. And so many others, doesn't even scratch the surface. Et toi?" {Ah, I love Rammstein... And you?}

"Proper choices, those. For me, it's the classics - Sex Pistols, The Clash, Buzzcocks. Real raw, in-your-face stuff, y'know?"

I leaned in, excited, but too close. I nearly jumped as my lips grazed the dusky shell of his ear. "Ah, un homme de bon goût! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, c'était incroyable!" {Ah, a man of good taste! I've seen the Buzzcocks live, you know. Pure chaos, it was incredible!}

"No bleedin' way! Metal chick like you? I'd give me left bollock to have seen the Sex Pistols live. But I did catch The Clash back in '07. Changed me life, it did."

"Lemmy, sans aucun doute. The man's a legend!" {Lemmy, without a doubt.} I declare into the bar.

"Oi, don't go disrespectin' Johnny, now! The bloke's a punk icon, 'e is!"

"You're a punk icon!" someone shouted from the back, but the prince waved them off with a grin.

"Oh, I didn't catch your name," I said, with a sudden shame, my brow furrowed.

"Everyone just calls me Punk. You can too. Just not dirty punk, we don't want to come to blows, do we, love?"

"I'd kick your ass, mon ami. Pas grand chose à donner, mon petit prince des fées… eh mon prince dégingandé, right? I would not describe you as petite even if you are skinny." {I'd kick your ass, my friend. Not much to give, my little fairy prince… eh my lanky prince, right?}

Miguel was at my side in an instant, all rippling muscle and furrowed consternation. "Carnalita, {little sis} why did you sneak out on practice just to drink in this hellhole?" he rumbled, disapproval lacing every sonorous word. Tenderness faded a bit.

I met his gruff chiding with an insouciant toss of my hair. "Salut, Miguel. Ça fait longtemps." {Hello, Miguel. It's been a while.}

"Is that Jack? No puedo mas… Carnalita…This shit is bad for you." {I can't take it anymore…little sis...}

"Je nais etre rond comme une queue de pelle. Tu es vraiment un trou de balle quand tu dis des choses pareilles!" {I would be round as a shovel handle. (Idiom, essentially she is saying ~ I was born to be drunk) You are really a dumbass when you say things like that!}

Miguel's grumbling stream of Spanish reprimands washed over me as I settled into our familiar dynamic - the tender yet terse cantata of friend and protector that had composed them score of our relationship since childhood. For all his bluster, I knew every arrhythmic cadence encoded Miguel's steadfast affection.

Only Gabriel's soft interjection could salve the rising discord. "You worry too much, Miggy. We've been practicing all week."

He cast me a plaintive glance, silently pleading for conciliation, and I grudgingly obliged with an internal eyeroll. "Qu'il aille se faire! C'est vraiment chiant tu te rends compte." {Let him go fuck himself! It's really annoying, you know.}

Heedless of my saucy french asides, Miguel merely drew a fortifying breath before continuing in that maddening timbre of unrelenting reason. "Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out alone in an unknown city - it's not safe for you, mi carnalita."

The prince leaned towards us with a lazy smirk, "S'not that serious. The Rusty Nail is safe enough." He paused as the bartender snorted in agreement before continuing, "We're keeping the lady safe, mate…you can trust me, I'm one of the Spider-Punks."

Miguel simply sneered at the prince's proffered handshake, dismissing it out of hand. "You have arms like sticks. How would you keep her safe?"

The punk's smirk widened as he shrugged. "Ah, one of those. Never skip leg day, eh bruv?"

I strangled a guffaw as Gabriel hastened to run interference, engulfing the punk's hand eagerly. "We've heard of you guys, the local punk band, yeah? Your drummer is…gahh…Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?"

"You call that punk noise "rock"?" Miguel scoffed. "Metal is where the real skill lies…Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude."

I rolled my eyes. At this rate, I'd have to drag Miguel out before he started a brawl.

"Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non?" {Ah, but no, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, right?}

Miguel grunted, but squeezed my hand.

I stood, motioning for him to lean in close. "Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord? I learned some things about the record company. We should talk in private." {Come on, let's save the competition for the stage, okay?}

The prince unfolded himself, towering over me. "Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops," he challenged.

Gabriel chimed in, "Pero, mana's right, Miguel." {But, sister is right, Miguel.}

Miguel looked ready to explode, but Gabriel's eyes held him in check.

"Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show, and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?" Gabriel said.

The prince leaned in, lips grazing my cheek. "Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. How about we give 'em a show they won't forget…later?"

I grinned, "Oui! A collaboration? Here… Ça ne casse pas trois pattes à un canard…mais, pour vous. I want it back later." {Yes! A collaboration? Here…It doesn't break three duck legs (Idiom ~ It's nothing special) …but, for you. I want it back later.}

The lanky punk sauntered off, his studded boots leaving faint trails of glitter on the barroom floor. Miguel's scowl deepened as he watched him depart, fists clenched tightly.

"Is that your poetry notebook?" he growled, voice rumbling low.

"Yes, I traded it to the punk faerie for these tattoos, I smirked, revealing the vine-like scrawl of ink now adorning my flesh like raised scars from whipping brambles.

Miguel's face darkened further, storm clouds gathering at my words. "The one you never let anyone touch or read…"

His voice strangled to a whisper, and I could not parse the complex calculus of emotions flitting behind his eyes

Gabriel placed a calming hand on his brother's arm.

"Easy, hermano {brother}. He's not worth it," Gabriel said in a soothing tone.

"Be nice, Punk is a good guy. I like him," I countered softly, a warm glow blossomed within me as I realized my entire arm was now a crawling garden of sentences entirely in French.

Miguel opened his mouth, undoubtedly to unleash a heated retort, but Gabriel cut in, "Should we go look at the brackets to see who we're facing?"

"It looks like my entire arm is covered with quotes from The Little Prince, which happens to be my favorite book. It's actually quite a sweet gesture," I said softly, fingertips grazing the raised words like treasured runes.

With renewed curiosity, I examined the ink quote now etched on my skin: "Vous êtes maître de votre vie et de vos émotions, ne l'oubliez jamais. Pour le meilleur et pour le pire." {You are the master of your life and your emotions, never forget that. For better or worse.}

I didn't mention the lone scrawl that could have been a phone number hidden amidst the literary foliage now vining my limb. Miguel was in full-on Dad mode, and I didn't need to add fuel to that particular fire.

"I already know the competition for the quarterfinals, we don't need to waste our time. Come on, manos {used as slang for brother}, we're going to kick some ass!" I giggled brightly, elated at my new 'tattoos' scrawling up my arms. I didn't put my leather jacket back on, I didn't want to cover any of it up.

Miguel's glare never wavered, his eyes fixed on the far side of the bar where the prince had disappeared into the crowd. "Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita {little sister}, time for practice."

With a resigned sigh, I surrendered to my brothers' insistent tugs, allowing them to lead me from the Rusty Nail. But the punk prince's parting words still reverberated through my mind like the lingering notes of a siren song. Later, he had purred, that single hushed syllable seeming to contain all the intoxicating lure of a siren's call - equal parts velvet promise and brazen challenge, twined inextricably into an enchantment I could not resist. The whole damn bar was a sailor's nightmare.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

[weatherwltcharchive]

— drucilla’s character info sheet. (or a quick cheatsheet on relevant info regarding dru)

name: drucilla pritchard

name meaning: drucilla means “mighty, strong.”

alias/es: drucilla is an alias, adopted to hide herself from marines. it came from a book she liked as a kid. pritchard came later, to honor the woman that took her in as a teenager.

ethnicity: white (irish)

one picture you like: this in particular because i imagine it as one of her freer, happier moments. in a modern au, it was taken during college.

three hcs you never told anyone:

she’s skilled in forgery, whether it’s forging signatures or creating copies of famous art. in her modern verse, it’s how she’s made extra money.

her first kill was through her devil fruit. ended up with her jaws around their throat. she threw up for an hour afterward due to the taste of blood, and since then, puts her swordsmanship first and uses her power as backup. it’s worked better this way for the element of surprise.

despite her flighty, self-saving habits, she’s incredibly loyal. she’s someone who can pull stories from even the most curmudgeonly people. will honor debts even if it’s more work on her end. she loves hard after years of being afraid to.

three things your character likes doing in their free time:

art. she’s a painter primarily, but sketches too. she doesn’t have much room to paint while on the sea, but in times when she has a stable place on land, hanging up her own art helps it feel like home.

rock climbing. she’s always been fond of being out in nature, but after ten years of climbing ropes aboard pirate ships, she’s come to enjoy the familiarity and feel of being able to pull herself out of anything.

thrifting/antique shopping. she’s a great haggler with a good eye for special finds, but she also takes great appreciation in the history and make of items.

three people your character loves (or important people mentioned in her canon):

iona pritchard. adoptive mother of sorts, village fortune teller that would never tell her if her powers were real or not. drucilla regrets keeping up a misguided wall between them, in holding tight to the memory of her birth parents. she took iona’s last name after her death.

isabela rivaini. captain and greatest friend. when drucilla found herself alone again and struggling, she met isabela and, after swapping similar stories, joined her crew. isabela taught her how to wield a sword, how to fight, how to sail. in return, drucilla gave her her utmost loyalty and use of her devil fruit powers.

dracule mihawk. this can be switched out if she ever interacts with another mihawk, but as i’ve used mine to flesh out her character, he’s become quite important to her story. he does her the greatest favor of aiding her in rescuing isabela, which cements her loyalty and affection, and in doing so, they find a kindred soul in each other. he calls out her bullshit, and she never lets his attitude daunt her.

two things your character regrets:

packing up and leaving after a fight with iona without letting her or the friends drucilla had made know. when drucilla came back to the village later, iona had died, and she was too guilt-ridden to check in with anyone else.

looking the other way with some things because she was more focused on saving her own skin.

two phobias your character has:

thunderstorms make her uneasy because she nearly drowned during one. she’s had a few close calls, but this one in particular was by far the closest. she felt her body start to shut down as she watched her crew get pulled under the water too.

the conflicting ideas that there’s either nothing after death or instead of heaven waiting for her, it’ll be hell, for all the horrible things she’s done.

extra headcanons:

she can dance, but she can't sing. singing is relegating to humming while working or while drunk.

knowledgeable about plants and flowers to an unexpected degree that comes from the brief period she was on her own. she usually has flower detailing on her clothes that she sews herself.

her first wanted poster doesn’t show all of her face, instead showing only her scarred eye and lower 1/4th of her face peeking out from under the brim of her hat, like this. her updated poster after marineford shows the entirety of her face.

while she's the type to be slow to rise in argument, usually having not necessarily a good head, but can pick and choose when she lets go of her anger, she has been banned from at least two bars across the four quadrants for threatening to bite someone and making good on it once.

[yaksha-garden]

Verse: Blood, Gold, and Ashoka

aka the gothic horror/urban fantasy au aka the "vampire au"

Edha Banerjee was murdered in 1943.

In a country estate near Calcutta, there was a family who'd seen better days. Never had that been clearer than during the famine that wracked Bengal that year.

Once, the storied and rumour-shrouded estate had been home to a great fortune. One rumour told that long, long ago, a previous master of the house had summoned a spirit known as a jokkho and bound it to the ashoka tree in the courtyard, to guard all that wealth. Now, that fortune had now been exhausted, sold to sustain the family and try to pay off its many debts, and no jokkho appeared to object.

One of the family's scions was 21 year old Edha, a sharp, proud, and turbulent youth. Both her parents were dead, but her mother had left her a jewelry box. Over the years, Edha kept every gift of gold, silver, or jewels in that box, from family, friends, and the occasional paramour. It was a small collection, but it was a valuable one, and Edha treasured it as proof of her own value to others.

The important thing is that Edha wouldn't part with the jewelry box or any of its contents willingly, but money and debt care little for sentimental value. An uncle and his wife had tried many times to convince her to sell the jewelry, to add just a little bit more money to the family coffers, and the two of them failed every time. They got desperate.

Edha Banerjee was murdered over her jewelry box, and both of them were hastily buried under the ashoka tree in the courtyard while her uncle and his wife scrambled to cover their tracks. Establish their alibis, find a buyer for the ill-gotten jewels.

Eventually, they came back to the ashoka tree to dig up the hidden jewelry box. The minute they uncovered the body though, Edha leapt from her grave to maul them both.

Her eldest brother, on discovering the bodies in the courtyard, instantly recognized what happened -- he moved the entire family out of the estate, and sought an exorcist. However, he died in an accident before he could do so, and the family scattered to the winds, never to return home.

The tales of the estate now being haunted by a murderous spirit spread among the locals, who shunned the area. Occasionally, someone would try to explore the house, perhaps seeking to move in or renovate and sell it, but it always ended the same way. Someone would find the old jewelry box and try to take it, and they'd die at the revenant's claws, teeth, or venom for it, their lost vitality only empowering the haunt.

As decades passed, and the revenant once known as Edha Banerjee was starting to tire of this loneliness, broken only by trespassers and thieves, and decided to venture out into the world again -- with some cleaning up and an illusory mask to look more alive, a new, more androgynous appearance to hide their connection to the tragedy of fifty years ago. Most jokkho-guards are bound to their hoards, but as this treasure was just the jewelry box, they were free to simply carry it with them wherever they go.

Now, "Edha Devi" (Eden to those more than passingly familiar to them) haunts West Bengal and beyond, traveling from city to city, hungrily taking in the sights and meeting new people. They're fairly cordial for an undead monster. Given, of course, that you don't touch the jewelry box.

A vampire would recognize them as having a somewhat kindred experience -- they're both undead who prey on the living, but there are some core differences. Eden is bound to the Earth and their body for the purpose of protecting their treasure. Strictly speaking, they don't need to feed on human blood, because the only thing that can end their undeath is being released from this purpose, whether through exorcism or by creating another of their kind and passing the duty on to them. However, blood makes them stronger, and lets them properly heal from wounds. The other big thing is that Eden's fangs and claws carry venom, which makes their victims deathly ill when it's active. If they don't die of blood loss, they'll waste away in a few weeks to a days without treatment, depending on dosage.

[prcetexto]

trigger warnings ! (fontaine archon quest spoilers) anatomy metaphors, anxiety, blood, death, meltdowns, panic attacks, suicide

BIO

name ! focalors furina de fontaine

nicknames ! lady furina, lady archon (people of fontaine) / miss furina

titles ! hydro archon (formerly) / god of justice (formerly) / regina of all waters, kindreds, peoples, and laws (formerly)

constellation ! animula choragi

description ! the "ideal" and humanity of the god, focalors. the former representative of the hydro archon, succeeding egeria after she fell in the battle of tunigi hollow. after the fulfillment of the prophecy and the destruction of the hydro throne, she abdicated her position in the court of fontaine.

ABOUT

birthday ! 13 october

age ! 400+ years

species ! oceanid (formerly) / cursed human (formerly) / human

region ! fontaine

vision ! hydro, pneuma && ousia

special dish ! pour la justice (la lettre a focalors)

ORIENTATION

gender ! feminine

pronouns ! they/them, she/her

romantic orientation ! demi

sexual orientation ! demi

PREFERENCES

hobbies ! performing arts / reading novels

likes ! sweet desserts / tea

dislikes ! experimental food

fears ! the prophecy / being discovered / attempts to end her life / large sharp claws

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

faceclaim (fc) ! n/a

height ! 4'11" (150 cm)

mma weight class ! strawweight

eye colour ! light blue (right), dark blue (left)

hair colour ! white blue, with blue streaks

hairstyle ! a short bob, reaching the neck area (in ousia form ; includes twin tails mimicking jellyfish arms in pneuma form)

usual attire ! performance costume or formal wear, usually resembling a suit

vision location ! waist, pinned to a bow and sash

notable features ! complete heterochromia iridum with teardrop-shaped pupils / something like a cursed aura sometimes emanates from her person

INVENTORY

weaponry ! sword, splendor of tranquil waters

gifts ! various gifts accepted over the centuries, discarded upon her abdication

FACTION

alignment ! lawful good

allegiance ! fontaine

profession ! representative of the hydro archon (formerly) / theatre consultant / chansonnier

RELATIONSHIPS

ancestry ! egeria (mistress, formerly / predecessor)

same generation ! egeria's oceanid familiars (sisters)

progeniture ! -

romantic ! -

platonic ! chlorinde (champion duelist / bodyguard, formerly) / neuvillette (iudex, hydro sovereign) / traveller (confidante) / the melusines / gentilhomme usher, surintendante chevalmarin, mademoiselle crabaletta (summons, ousia form) / singer of many waters (summon, pneuma form)

antagonistic ! the knave, arlecchino / the childe, tartaglia

other ! navia caspar (complicated, assumed negative) / magician duo (complicated due to ties with the fatui and lyney's trial, assumed negative) / charlotte (nervous about being asked for an interview later on)

VERSES

how wonderful life is ! default verse, shortly after the performance of "a little oceanid." though granted a vision, there remained the question of what she was to do next. to live as a human, just as she wished they could... how does one do that, really?

half-moon, half-human ! takes place during her reign as the hydro archon, a period which spans centuries. her mind is always a cacophony of thoughts, constantly thinking forward and back, perfecting and reinforcing her act. she must be perfect, she must be justice in the eyes of her people. she cannot falter, she cannot hesitate. no matter the cost, she must be the leading lady of this stage.

it feels easier to just swim down ! oceanid au // i. before egeria gifted humanity to her faithful that wished for it, she, too, was one of the many oceanids of teyvat. / ii. though the hydro sovereign had pardoned fontaine for their "sin," she could not forgive herself for her own failures. rather than insist on her selfish wish that furina lives as a human as she wished they could, what remained of focalors enacts justice differently: she seals away egeria's gift, as well as neuvillette's forgiveness, allowing instead for furina to live as an oceanid. perhaps more centuries were necessary for her healing. and one day, when her tears have dried, she could reclaim the gifts that she had always deserved.

the unseen genius ! mirror au. focalors acts as furina's confidante; they move in tandem to deceive the heavenly principles and save fontaine from the prophecy. her "mirror self" still hides within the oratrice mechanique d'analyse cardinale, occasionally appearing in the palais mermonia using bodies of water and the looking glass in the archon's personal chambers. some secrets may still come between them, and it cannot be said that divinity and humanity always see eye to eye, but their heart beats as one. their love for fontaine shall be the only thing that drowns their nation.