#C surmises that they should want less of that

[childrenofcain-if]

My love language being physical touch is going to annoy C to the ends of the earth, I just know it. But come here, tol angry baguette, let me give you some love 💕

you’re kinda right, dear bonnie. C usually doesn’t like being touched much, but it is a very strange sort of dislike. they feel like they crave it too much from the people they care for. they want to be held so tight that they would never break again.

[scoops-aboy86]

If You Were Serious (Secret Admirer pt 7)

Okay, so there will be more than seven chapters. For now, please enjoy Steve on painkillers and creative mix tape shenanigans.

(The crossed out thing after the first "Dear" is the first line of an E.)

wc: 3226 / rated: T / set end of/after season 3 / also on ao3

Dear I

Dear Secret Amdirer,

Sorry, painkillers kicking in. I got pretty banged up in the mall, in the fire. Well, less the fire and more getting hit by stuff. Mall fell down. I have ribs and eye and nose, and concussion this time so I had to stay over at Robin’s because someone had to keep an eye on me sleeping and my parents are still out of town. Dustin said I won at upper body injury bingo but I didn’t even know I was playing, that sounds like really a shitty game. 

Anyway, I haven’t been home so I don’t know if you tried to call. If you did, don’t worry!!! I’m not mad. I don’t not like you anymore just because you’re you. And this isn’t the durg drugs talking because I read your letter first before they kicked in, but I have to write this ASAP so it can get to you faster. 

You could’ve called back that night but if you needed some time to breathe I get it, it’s cool. And I kinda had a feeling after that you might be a guy? Like, shit, man, they’d eat you alive in this town. Not me, I learned my lesson after Jonathan wrecked my face after I called him and his family some bad things. I deserved that. Kinda funny how the next year he stole my girlfriend and now I like you. If you could still be interested in somebody who used to be like that. 

I know I like you because when you hung up I was really worried, you sounded like you were breathing really fast, maybe a panic attack? I have those after nightmares now. Robin too. (Don’t worry, we bonded and she’s like my sister now, she says we’re playdoh soulmates

“Oh my god, I knew explaining who Plato was was a bad idea. It’s platonic, Steve, not Play-Doh.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder! … How do you spell that?”

“P-L-A-T-O-N-I-C.”

“Thanks Robbie.”

she says we’re playdoh soulmates platonic soulmates.) I was worried about you and thought maybe you might be a guy but, that wasn’t as important as wanting you to be okay, you know? You still wrote me all those nice letters. You’ve made me feel really good about myself, why does it have to be different just because you’re not a girl? I can’t tell you why Robin knows about this stuff but she says I might be bysix bisexual. Not sure why I need a big fancy word for it when I didn’t have one for liking girls, I just know I care about you a lot and want you to like me. 

And you’re not a coward, you’re very very brave. You reached out first, you went for what you wanted even when I didn’t get it and tried to ask for too much too soon. And then you kept coming back to try again, even though I kept doing that. That’s so brave. 

I’m not feeling so awake anymore so I’m going to stop and have Robin mail this for me. (No way am I going out dressed like this. Her dad wears grandpa shorts dude, it’s pretty bad.) I’ll write more when I’m feeling better. Are you okay? Hope you weren’t anywhere near the mall the other night. Thanks for the rainbow song I will look for it.

Love Steve 

~

Once Eddie is done reading, he screams into his pillow for a different reason. Several, actually. 

First, he’s been so sure for the past week or so that he would never hear from Steve ever again. The only reason he’d checked his mail today was because he should have another zine coming in soon. He didn’t, but there was a yellow envelope with familiar, if slightly messier than usual handwriting on it. And inside that, stationary with colorful geometric shapes along the edges that Eddie now surmises is Robin’s. 

Second, Steve isn’t even writing to tell him to fuck off right to hell. Because yes, Eddie had heard the rumors about Steve calling Jonathan Byers a queer. The irony does send a seam of semi-hysterical laughter through his screams. It’s fine. It’s fine!

Third, Steve hasn’t been avoiding his calls. He just hasn’t been home. He’s hurt, and it sounds like his head and torso took quite a beating. Eddie remembers seeing him around school both times after the other concussions and that had looked bad enough, and that had just been his face. This sounds worse. 

Fourth, Steve is… still interested? Has talked to someone about this and might be bisexual?! Eddie’s never had anyone talk to someone else about him, has always been completely anonymous with a possible option of becoming a dirty little secret. And then the letter ends with ‘Love Steve.’ Love? Love Steve?!

Fifth, Robin knows he sent Steve that ice cream. Eddie doesn’t know what all “platonic soulmates” entails, but what if she tells him? What if she already has?!

Sixth, despite being injured, and having panic attacks apparently, Steve is still asking if he is okay. 

Seventh, beneath his name Steve had also doodled a lopsided happy face with what he can only guess is an ice pack balanced on top. Or… maybe it’s hair. Or some kind of hat. 

Any of these would be enough to make his head spin on their own, but it’s all happening at once and he doesn’t know what to do. So he screams into his pillow for a while longer, kicking his feet for good measure. 

He wants to rush out and find Steve, wherever he is. Wants to call him, but doesn’t know what he would say even if he did know the number to reach him right now. What he could say. Wants to wrap both arms around him and kiss his poor head better. Hell, if he’s turned Steve gay he doesn’t just want, he deserves to make that guy the little spoon for the first time in his life probably and just. Hold him. 

Except… he’s not sure he’s ready for face to face yet. He will be! Soon. Once all the emotions bubbling in his chest have settled a little. And after he’s pinched himself a few million more times just to make sure. But until then…

A thought occurs to him, and Eddie rolls over to frown consideringly up at the ceiling. He’s sent Steve words to comfort and reassure him before, right? Maybe there’s something else he can send, a different way of offering a part of himself to Steve until he works up the nerve to face him for real. 

It’s just going to take him a little time, and some recording equipment. 

~

Dearest Steve,

I hope this address is still okay to write to you while you stay with your friend, but I don’t know where she lives. 

You have no idea 

Holy shit man. Holy shit. Are you serious? No, strike that, you’ve been nothing but genuine in these letters and I trust you, I do. Holy shit though. It’s you. Clearly I never thought I’d actually have a chance, from the way I approached this whole thing, so you must forgive me for how utterly poleaxed, completely flabbergasted, and genuinely gobsmacked I am. 

And shit, I’m still sorry for hanging up on you. That golden years line—and this heavy secret of the most basic fact of who I am weighing on my shoulders, pressing down so hard I couldn’t breathe. I wish I’d just said something. But you’re right, I needed… space? And a push, to work up to writing the last letter I sent you. I got yours the day I put that in the mail, by the way, and that spun me even more because what if you read mine and took it all back?

But you didn’t. You didn’t, sweetheart. I’m still reeling in the best possible way. Again, axed like a pole, flabbers gasted, and gob thoroughly smacked.

Enough about me. More than enough about me. You’re concussed; I ought to wrap that gorgeous head of yours in bubble wrap and offer to fight all your battles henceforth, even against falling buildings. I’m glad you have someone out there who’s looking out for you though. I guess… you’ve told Robin about some things? Maybe these letters? Which is absolutely fine, by the way. It’s great! Fuck knows it wouldn’t have occurred to me to explain what bisexuality is, since I hardly dared to dream so big and only swing the one way myself. You’re an amazingly open-minded person by the way, Steve; I hope you know how rare that is, especially in a place like Hawkins. And Robin too, apparently. Please give her my highest regards, she is an angel among mortals and an inadvertent champion of this sad wet rag of a human being (me). 

At any rate, wishing you the speediest of recoveries and I hope you’re already feeling at least a little better. My condolences on the grandpa shorts, although personally I’m convinced you could wear a trash bag and still look like an Adonis. 

It’s taken me a little longer than I’d like to send this because I made something for you. Enclosed is a tape with some of the songs from our call that you said you liked, played acoustically by yours truly. Rainbow In The Dark is one of them. You mentioned having nightmares, and whenever I had bad dreams as a kid my mom would play for me until I calmed down. She’d hum instead of doing the words, to make it more like a lullaby. I hope it’s at least a decent distraction, sweetheart. 

Let me know if you like it? I can make one of your favorite songs too, just you let me know what they are. In the meantime, I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

~

“You should tell him that you know,” Robin whispers, at some point during the fourth night in a row they’ve ended up crashed on the same bed listening to the Anti-Panic Attack Metal Mix. 

Her dad sleeps like the dead and her mom sleeps with earplugs in because he snores, so they get away with it, but Steve always insists on laying on top of the covers anyway. The friendship is still new, for all that they’re trauma bonded, and he wants to make sure she knows he’s not getting any funny ideas, that he gets the whole lesbian thing, that even though he’s new to being into a dude he’s committed to it and not wishy-washy or greedy or whatever.

He fiddles with a loose string on the blanket for a minute before answering. “No… I don’t want to freak him out again. It’s all going to be on his terms from here on out, no more pushing.”

“Well you’ve got to do something. Come on Steve, I’m invested now. Ask to meet him.”

He rolls his eyes. “What did I just say?”��

Immediately he gives an inward wince, because that came out bitchy. But Robin just snorts and murmurs “Fine,” sounding amused rather than offended, so he relaxes. 

They exist in silence for a while, side by side. Just close enough to not feel alone, drifting on the soft notes and low, rich hum. It’s soothing. 

“What if,” Robin starts, and ignores Steve’s huff. “What if you go somewhere you know he might show, and then give him the opportunity to talk to you?”

“Oh yeah,” he scoffs, “like what?”

“Summer house party.” Her whisper picks up a little in excitement as she warms to her own idea. “I bet we can find one that’s coming up soon. Everyone knows that Munson sells, it’s one of those never invited but always welcome things. Then if he doesn’t come to you, just buy some weed and see if he says anything.”

“No,” Steve whispers back. 

She rolls over to squint at him in the dark. “Just think about it, okay? You wouldn’t be forcing him to do anything, just… providing an opportunity. Come on, Stevie-evie, this is my chance to see a gay love story go right.”

“Vetoing that nickname.” With a sigh, he rolls onto his side too, facing her. “My face still looks like raw hamburger meat, Robs. I have like zero charm right now.”

The swelling has gone down, at least to where he can open his eye again but the bruising remains spectacular. It looks like a sunset exploded across the side of his face, and not in a good way. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “You’re more than just your face, dingus. It wasn’t your rugged jawline, sculpted cheekbones, or pimple-free forehead that wrote those letters, it was you. Steve.”

He goes to wrinkle his nose at the descriptions, but quickly remembers that’s still a bad idea with a swallowed grunt. “Please, never describe me again.”

“I make no promises. And anyway, if you’re willing to try makeup I think we could get most of it covered so no one’ll ever notice. Not at night, anyway.”

That gives him pause. He rolls onto his back again to think about it, staring up at the ceiling of Robin’s bedroom and tracing imaginary constellation lines between the glow in the dark stars she has up there. Beside him, he feels her settling on her back too without having to look. 

It’s not like when he’d found a little brother in Dustin—who has visited pretty much every day during Steve’s convalescence, sometimes with Erica or Mike, Lucas, and Max in tow, spouting off things he’s read in books about the various still-healing injuries. As annoying as it is, Steve appreciates that the little dork took the time to study what’s wrong with him enough to provide armchair diagnoses and give him advice about things that he already knows. 

Robin is… more of a twin than a sister. (Which, yeah, twin sister, whatever. That’s not the point.) They’re on the same wavelength in a way he’s never experienced before, not with Tommy or Carol or even Nancy. The closest thing Steve has ever had to this was during basketball games, in the heat of a play where everyone on the team knew where everyone was and where they’d be and how to work together as a unit, perfectly in sync. Only with Robin, it’s all the time. Sometimes they can even finish each other’s sentences—though they try not to do that around her parents, in the interest of not wanting them to think they’re a couple. 

They’re more like a pair of bonded kittens at the pound, Robin says. Must be adopted together. (“Okay, but why can’t we be dogs? Dogs are cooler.” “Because, dingus, you have a one-hundred-and-twenty-seven step hair and skin routine and you’re incredibly aloof when you want to be. I could go either way, but you’re one hundred percent cat.”)

“Maybe,” he whispers finally. 

He’s not sure she’s still awake—he’s not sure he’s still awake, with the soothing music lulling him back to a calm he hadn’t felt even before he’d gone to bed the first time. But he wants to think she hears it, just like he wants to think that he’ll run into Eddie and find out what it’s like to hold his hand, maybe even kiss him, all in the same night. He’s worn lip gloss, he can deal with a little makeup. 

“Maybe I’ll go.”

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Thank you for the tape, it’s perfect. It helps me get back to sleep because it feels like you’re there, watching over me. Like nothing bad can happen. Sometimes the nightmares still come back after but I think it’s getting better. It takes a while, you know? Last time, after the after Billy after my last concussion it took a while to stop having bad dreams. I guess the mind needs time to heal too, even if the stuff that happens to it isn’t as “real” as breaking a nose or a rib. Who knew?

I really am serious, yeah. Even though I’m me. Whatever that means. I don’t really know what to do with myself or what I want right now. (Except you. Kind of cheesy, but maybe you like that about me? I guess it’s something I always tried to hide before because the guys would’ve made fun of me, fuck knows Tommy did all of junior year, but I kind of like the idea that maybe you saw it anyway.) Once my face heals up me and Robin are going to try and get jobs together somewhere else because we’re cats that have to stick together or we’ll get stressed out and claw all the furniture. Other than that I don’t know what I want to do except leave Hawkins someday. But stick around to make sure it’s to see the kids graduate. Dustin’s starting high school in the fall, maybe you could keep an eye out for him? Curly hair, no collarbones, ego bigger than the whole state, total nerd but in a good way, even if he’s sometimes a butthead about it. He plays that game with dragons and those weird looking dice, do you know it? Him and his friends Mike and Lucas are kind of bully magnets. (Max is starting freshman year too but she can take care of herself in that department.) They’ve all been pretty down after the mall and with Will and moving away and everything. Erica, Lucas’ little sister, I guess I’m her “babysitter” now too, is still in middle school but I don’t know if she’d be glad or insulted if I waited around to see her graduate. She can take care of herself too. She and Dustin were with us for most of the Starcourt burning down and it was a lot, but kids are resilient. I don’t think she gets nightmares, not that she would ever admit to anyone if she did even though in her own words “we’ve bled together.” She’s getting into the nerdy dice game too and is planning her campaign for President of the USA as soon as she turns, what, 40? 50? Whatever age you have to be before you can do that. I’ll probably still be in a town like Hawkins with another lame retail job by then, but she’s got my vote. She’d do a hell of a lot better job than Regan, that’s for sure. 

Is your mom My mom never sang to

Also, you are really good at guitar, man. I still think about your hands, I bet you have long fingers. Really… What’s a word for ‘good with his fingers’? I think about that sometimes. I don’t really know what kind of stuff two guys can do together except the obvious but I think about that a lot. I want you to play me like your guitar. I’d let you fight my battles too, at least until my ribs get back to normal and then we can both fight both of our battles. You know I’d do that for you, right? If you ever need me. I really like these letters. I really like you.

Love, Steve

P.S. If you were serious about making me another tape (which you really don’t have to, this was already going above and beyond), my favorite songs are…

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @kurofuckingshi16

@bookworm0690 @millseyes-world @live-laugh-love-dietrich @the-tenth-mus-e

[jubilantmedusa]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I really like your fics <3 I re-read your latest Zukka one 3 times. Do you plan to write any more soon? What type of ideas do you have? I hope I don't sound pushy I'm just curious!

Aww, so glad you enjoyed it :)

I doesn't take much to get me to talk about ideas and WIPs so here you go!

I'm not sure how soon any of this will get done, just because life is very busy right now (which is the reason I've been focusing on short stuff - I prefer medium/long, but short is more achivable right now; and it is a fun challenge to stick to a word limit).

Actively working on:

Zukka HC Sketch + Fic: I have two other Zukka H/C-ish sketches that I need to write stories for. They should be a little less angsty then the last one, in theory, but still have some H/C element. Waiting for inspiration to strike. (1 - 1.5k each goal). I might do more of these, or I might switch to a non-H/C sketch/fic focus. Or I might stop when those two are done. IDK. Whatever's fun.

Iroh and Zuko Post "The Desert" Whump AU: Zuko and Iroh’s escape from "The Desert" is intercepted by an enemy who quickly surmises that the most effective way to torture Iroh is to torture Zuko. With Iroh literally losing his mind, can Zuko (who is not doing well) save his uncle and himself? (currently at 4k; estimated 12 - 16k)

If I can finish the above by the end of the year I'll be pleased.

Ideas that I really want to do and have at least done *some* pre-writing for:

Iroh's Second Spirit World Journey: An Iroh centric story that diverges after "The Earth King." When Zuko never wakes up from his angst coma, Iroh goes literally beyond the ends of the earth to try to save him (aka - Iroh's second spirit world journey). Could have a sequal (or even be a trilogy, potentially), but not required. I really want to write this but I'm not sure if it would have an audience. Estimate: long, over 25k

Escaping the Desert: Another "The Desert" divergence story - Zuko and Iroh are captured by the Rough Rhinoes. Unfortunately, so is Toph. Zuko will do anything to save his uncle, but what about the strange blind girl who was with the avatar? Estimate 15 - 25k. The problem with this one is it would more or less require a trilogy... but if I can keep all the stories to around 10-15k that may be achievable.

Zukka Iron Lung: There is a plague that only effect firebenders. This spurs the invention of the iron lung -- Sokka is one of the lead engineers. When Sokka goes to the Fire Nation to Save the Day, he catches feelings for the Fire Lord. Unfortunately, Zuko then catches the plague. Length TBD.

Zukka Post Series romance: Zuko was injured/disabled before the finale and never took the throne. Sokka hasn't spoke to him since. He has, however, developed PTSD. With his life seemingly falling apart. Sokka decides to run away and go to university at Ba Sing Se. He stops for tea at the Jasmine Dragon, which is now run by, you guessed it, Zuko. Angst and romance ensures. Bonus airbender field trip. Length TBD.

Ice Demon / Waterbender Hospital - This is something I'm not sure anyone would be interested in except me, but I do like medical whump. I've done some light worldbuilding for a waterbender hospital, and have a vague idea of sending Zuko there when he's attacked by an Ice spirit. For some reason. Maybe involving Aang and his quest to master the avatar state? or maybe not, because that would be a lot of story. Lots of more to develop here. Could be gen or Zukka. Season 3 somewhere. Length TBD.

Fire Demon story - I would love to write a longer form season one AU that shamlessly steals the premise of the excellent short fic Fire Walk by Sholio and makes it into a multi-chapter Zuko joins the gang early story. Length TBD.

Ancedotes: This is an idea for a series of short form slice of life/characters backstory fics (3 - 8k, lets say). So far they'd include - "Old Man " a story that answers the question 'how did Sokka learn about physics?' - coming of age/loss of innocence; "Losing at Pai Sho" a story about teen Iroh learning to not be arrogant; and "First Kiss" - the only idea I've ever had for an Azula story, featuring Ty Lee's first kiss and Azula's first... something else. I have an idea for Toph and Zuko, but not committed to them. Katara story has not come to me. I also wanted to pair these with exercises from The 3 A.M. Epiphany because idk the whim struck and the idea is in my head.

Aside form that, I'd like to write a few whumpy Zuko short stories (3 - 10k) that focus on the gaang relationships I haven't written about as much - friendship fics featuring Katara & Zuko, Aang & Zuko, or Toph & Zuko.

If I am ever to become independently wealthy, I'll write my season 3 AU.

And if I ever feel very, very silly - but still slightly angsty - I'll have Iroh commission a symphony in C.

Thank you so much for the question! I am flattered. It was very nice.

If there's an idea you (or anyone who stumbles across this) especially likes, let me know!

[theharrowing]

Patience. We're getting there.

You are moments away from meeting Hoseok's family and trying not to spiral, and Hoseok is a calming presence who keeps you grounded.

🤍 Hope for the Holidays Hoseok x Non-Binary (afab) Reader

🤍 word count: ≈ 640

🤍 established relationship, angst if you squint, fluff, sfw

🤍 warnings: none! this is just a sweet little moment where mc almost feels icky feels but Hoseok is there to make them feel better.

🤍 notes: the government name for this fic should be Patience, Marshmallow. We're getting there. but it felt too long.

🤍 written for the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event, requested by @absentcaryatid 🎈 happy belated birthday, my darling Elizabeth!!! i so appreciate you for requesting something nice and soft for this event! thank you for being such a good friend, as well as dedicated reader!!! it was hard stopping myself from writing a lot more, but i felt like this snippet was really nice. enjoy!!!

🤍 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 posted jan. 2024

You feel antsy. 

Your relationship with Hoseok has been an absolute whirlwind since day one. And now, after an incredible year of knowing one another, you are in a rental car in the busy, snowy streets of Gwangju, South Korea, on your way to meet his parents. 

You almost came here back in February when Hoseok visited for Lunar New Year, but it had been too long since he had been back home, and you felt strange about tagging along. You still feel strange about it, but Hoseok was so sweetly emphatic about you coming that you couldn't bring yourself to stay in your shared apartment all alone. 

Although it would certainly not be a repeat of last Christmas in any sense of the word, it is hard not to think about past holiday events with the ex, and with the family you never felt like you fit in with. What if this visit feels the same? What if you feel just as out of place on the other side of the world as you had on the other side of the country? What if there is nowhere that feels right?

Hoseok must be able to sense your nerves, and he reaches over the center console of the rental car, firmly holding your hand while keeping the other on the steering wheel. You smile but you can tell that it is unconvincing. Hoseok chuckles. 

"Don't look so scared, marshmallow," he teases, giving your hand a squeeze. "My mom can't wait to meet you. Whenever I call, she tells me all about how happy she is that you will be here."

You believe Hoseok—how could you not? His family has been nothing but welcoming, even from such a great distance.

"I shouldn't tell you this," Hoseok says conspiratorially, mouth stretched into a wide smile while his eyes stay on the road, "it was meant to be a surprise, but when I told mom about your gift from last year, she became excited to have you cook with her."

Words fail you, and you open your mouth to flounder through shapes of syllables before landing on, "Wh— me?"

With another chuckle and another gentle squeeze, Hoseok glances at you briefly to say, "Yes, you. She hasn't stopped talking about it. So I hope you are ready to learn some family recipes, because she takes it seriously."

The idea would be daunting if it weren't so heartwarming. Hoseok's mother wants you to join her in the kitchen while she prepares food for the family holiday dinner. She trusts you to help her.

"Besides, my sister won't lift a finger in the kitchen, so I know she will appreciate having you there."

At this, you laugh, feeling weight lift from your shoulders as joy explodes from your chest. 

You tease, "Oh, so I'm just a replacement for your sister, hmm?" while your eyes never leave Hoseok's profile. 

He waggles his eyebrows, then glances at you and begins to laugh. This is always the way things are with Hoseok: light and fun. 

"How much longer?" you ask, eyes taking in the tall snow-covered apartment buildings and the bustling sidewalks filled with pedestrians and shoppers. You had just asked less than five minutes ago, and can surmise that the answer has only changed by the same amount. 

"Patience, marshmallow," Hoseok teases. "We're getting there."

Patience is a lot easier said than done, and you sigh dramatically, making Hoseok laugh once more. Rather than respond, you take in the calmness of the soft song playing on the radio accompanied by Hoseok's melodic happiness. 

"I'm excited," you say softly after a long moment while your gaze drops to your conjoined hands. Emotion swells, and you feel a bit choked up as your mouth stays in a smile. 

Hoseok says, "Good." Nice and simple. And you couldn't agree more. 

Everything feels good. 

🥺🥺🥺 this one felt like such a warm hug while i was writing it. i hope you agree!!! 🥰🥰🥰

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE THE LIFEBLOOD IF THIS HELLSITE AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED TOO!!! THANK YOU FOR READING, I LOVE YOU!!!

tag list: @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 🤍 want to be tagged in everything i write? or just my member x reader content? send me a message!

🎈 check out more drabbles from the Harrow’s Holiday Cheer Event!

Patience. We're getting there. is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. reposts and translations are not allowed.

[pseudomonacarriea]

“….!? Master Lucilius…!?”

Jolting and making the effort not to drop all the fruits of her labor; It’s quite evident that the Primarch has been hard at work all the way into the early hours of the morning. While Tessael did not require rest as a primal beast, it did not exempt her from becoming so preoccupied that she paid less attention to her surroundings than she should. That much was evident in how she had failed to hear her creator approaching until he had called her name.

It’s a futile effort, but she tries to stand in front of the large bowl on the counter and keep it hidden from view. Regrettably, the space isn’t the best for bringing out her wings, else she’d use them as another method to keep the sight obscured. With the date that draws closer and closer, it would hardly be difficult to surmise just what it is she intends to do given her annual habit of giving him a gift on Valentine’s Day; But normally, she wouldn’t be caught.

If only that mission hadn’t come up just a month before….No, I cannot complain; I’m doing as Master Lucilius says, but….

The task had proven a bit more difficult than expected, and had thus taken longer; And the self-assigned mission before her was hardly any easier. Normally, she would give him milk or dark chocolates; But after having caught word from the Angels of Instruction of white chocolate being on the sweeter side, Tessael had thought to change things up this year. Unfortunately, what she hadn’t realized was that the melting point was rather tricky, far higher than the former two, and when she had applied too much heat with her powers? The mixer had caused some of its now very much melted contents to splatter, there was white chocolate on her face and on her arms from having tried to defuse the minor catastrophe.

“–I….C-Could you wait just a little while, I’ll be done in perhaps an hour…”

The silence was broken as he walked back towards his study. Hearing the faint sounds of movement from one of the smaller kitchens near his study caused him to pause. As he stepped in slowly, he watched from the doorway. Despite how many times he told her that it wasn't necessary to take part in the Skyfairer's holiday, she continues to do so. Was this now ingrained into her Core? Or was it because she desired it?

After watching for a few minutes, he called out to her. Listening to her attempt to cover the mess, icy hues notice the chocolate. Cilius takes long strides over towards his prized Angel, a gloved hand reaching up to her chin. The mess could be taken care of later. It appears she's taken care of most of it, but she needs to watch out for herself during any cooking fiascos. Without saying a word, the Astral pulls her face down--

And licks the white chocolate off her cheek. Were it someone else, he might've removed it with his hand or just told them. This? He wanted to see her reaction. As if it would be any different from what he would do with her. Their copious amount of activities left no place untouched by his hands or mouth.

"You're getting sloppy with your clean-up efforts."

Releasing her, he looks towards the bowl and stove. Feeling some of the chocolate he consumed from her cheek, his thumb runs across his lips.

White chocolate... What have those two been up to?

If an hour was as long as it was going to take, he decided to stick around. Doesn’t matter where he goes; She’ll find him and feed him. This year, it’ll be in the kitchen rather than his study. A matter of convenience, no?

[nanabrainrot]

2. The Bitch to Scratch

Summary: You hate Bruce when he’s mean.

Part 2 Dark!Bruce Wayne x Housewife!Reader

Warnings: rough sex, facefucking, cis afab reader and she/her pronouns, established marriage, misogyny, codependence, ambiguous consenting

The truth was you had let it be known that you weren’t having kids with him. Bruce was a traditional man, that was what the term could be. He wanted you home, where he knew where you’d be, you weren’t permitted to work, shit, you didn’t even need to lift a finger. But you wonder what he loved you for if not your spirit, the zest you had almost 10 years ago. You were kids and you’re not going to be a kid forever; you were bound to change as often as the weather as you grew. But in Gotham the weather was rarely other than gloomy. You didn’t think you’d be living in a sky high penthouse like you had always dreamed of and seen in the movies would leave you feeling nothing but solitude as you did in studio apartment those years before him. “Fine, don’t have babies,” he said carelessly as he nurses a glass of rum, “you don’t need to be a mom to be the perfect wife.”

You should’ve known then.

“Gghgg -“

“Quiet.”

Bruce’s hands are big, big like a bear’s paws compared to yours and you swear you could feel his calloused padded hands move against like he wanted to claw you, to mark you. His body wasn’t so broad, yet it was abrasive and you knew you could bicker with him but he could hold you down like a house cat pressing on a field mouse, right before he ate you up. You wish it was fucking eating instead.

But this is less indulgent for you and more for him. In other words: your husband is fucking your mouth like a fleshlight. Your head hanging off the bed, upside down, as you laid across the King four poster bed, back taut against these unnecessarily expensive linens. Bruce respected you as his wife, but not as his equal. It was how the cookie crumbled. You knew this ages ago and surmised you had no room to talk a decade later. It’s like you could if you tried to in this position.

It’s nice to be close, to hold his undivided attention when he isn’t beating the shit out of some weirdo at night, but you often found yourself not having the joy to feel more than used by this act of “affection.” Bruce loves you. You’re his wife. But he loves you like a pet. He loves you as a cat but treats you like a dog; you often wonder when he would rip off the bandaid and get you a kennel and muzzle. You wondered, even now, if he wished you were a dog: compliant and loyal. You were loyal, faithful to him as your husband, but the day you’d play compliant would be a cold day in Hell.

“Hghugh-“ your chest heaves as you gurgle lewdly, his cock drawing in and out of your jaw with brutality. You don’t think, don’t talk when you’re like this. You’re perfect. Your body jolts when he pinches hard on your nipples like it’s been jostled with electricity, your shaky hands frantically pushing him away for a breath, but a truly determined dog will push its limits for its own.

He should design your a dog collar one of these days. A leash maybe.

“I’m gonna cum on your face,” he says matter-of-factly, earning a whine from you. He never learned to ask things, probably from the fact everything he wanted could be bought. He was so boyish for a grown man.

His calloused pads twiddle roughly on your nipples still, his favorite fixation, as he always took a deep pleasure in yours. Perhaps you’d even call him a gentleman if he wasn’t a dick to you. Your legs cross and uncross, kicking and jolting them pathetically and uncomfortably from your head hanging off the bed, your leaky hole abandoned and probably going to remain abandoned until he comes back to bother you a-fucking-gain. Despite the soreness of your throat as his slams into it, you still wonder what page you were on. He had come to you and discarded your romance novel, some charmer on a ranch and his farm girl, maybe page 94? 98?

Thinking does you no justice, Bruce surmised. Your eyes all ready and coated in that watery mascara he keeps buying you just to see it leak. When he pulls out, you’re coughing, trying to catch your breath. You’re still breathing though, he thinks internally at your dramatic display from his commonplace manhandling. As you catch your breath, he chokes a bit, breathing a bit of his cum as he greedily looms over your shaky figure, pumps carelessly at his cock’s upper half over your face, his lip twitching as always when he came. Your face is an amazing canvas for his painting. Everyday he feels like Van Gogh. No one but him has ever gotten to use this body, this personal whore, and if he died he’d rather you dead than live without him.

The air is still as you cough pathetically, curled all cold on your black comforter, your hair and makeup soiled by his display of affection. He grins at the sight, your life led by his hand on a leash like a pet. You and him had no one but each other, like both of you were parasites and hosts at once. You sniffle meekly, glassy eyes looking up at him from laying on your belly, your elbows holding you up and your shoulders slumped in that show of defeat. You are pathetic and broken by now, but it’s okay. At least you have a husband. At least you weren’t an unmarried, soiled whore like every other Gotham bitch.

“Can I shower and wipe off your -“

“No,” he replies shortly. You don’t even wince. It was like walking out the ocean surprised you were wet by asking that. “Okay,” you replied in a shallow, hoarse voice. You’re not even arguing today. Bruce worries he’ll break his face with the grin he sports, your face all cold and hollow. “Lay on your back and we’ll go to sleep like this,” he cooes at your cum-covered form, from two previous rounds of just fucking your face. You grunt in recognition, going to slink to lay on your back and nurse your achey neck from letting it dangle off the bed. “Where are you going?” He questions at you moving to lay down. Oh. He’s playing that game.

“Lick it clean, Mrs. Wayne.” The air isn’t still because your sniffling, looking all tired and worn and sexy, sexy just like this. You move to lay in front of him across the bed on your belly again, looking at his soft dribbling cock. He had already had his fill. Despite earning no pleasure from you sucking lazily on his flaccid dick, the real pleasure Bruce had was breaking you into a correct woman. Your tongue swirled lazily around it. Suckling, sucking, lapping tearfully at him, until he hands yanks your hair so hard you yelp like a hit dog. “Thank you, princess. You can lay on your back under the covers.” You’re looking up at him and wonder if he was always this kind of man.

“Okay.”

You see, Bruce lays side to side with you, nude, with an arm around you without fail when he’s home. Both of your shoulders propped up on s nest of pillows he so graciously allowed you to choose. Your head is on his shoulder, like always. Your face still sticky with drying cum, with smeared sad black eyeliner and mascara, your hair in a sad, sloppy bun and you are so beautiful tonight anyway.

“Are you gonna kiss your husband goodnight?” He asks low, like he knows the answer. “Of course.” You sound so hoarse.

Your lips meet. Then they part. The room is black like your linens, freshly washed and smelling of cotton (and your shame). He goes to bed so quickly, his body twitching as he rests. You stay up a little later, looking out the window, searching for a bat signal. It never comes. You wake with him in the morning and only eat scrambled eggs at breakfast. When a delivery man comes up with boxes a few days later, you don’t even ask why.

You look forward to the break of day, for no reason other than you hoping to see the sun’s smile for a split second. At least one of you could smile.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (deux)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere! ot7 x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, violent behavior, manipulation

deep in the forest lies the home to the infamous, successful kim family. you steeled yourself to enter the lions’ den, where kind, masked souls surrounded you, welcoming you with open hearts and open arms. you, however, still keep your wits about you. you protect yourself by getting comfortable, but not too close. but it’s alright. put your guard up to your hearts’ content. you are their favorite past time, after all. either way, sooner or later, you will be theirs...

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

The five Kim siblings couldn’t be more elated, watching the object of their eye sleep without a care in the world.

They remained quiet, speaking in whispers as they strove not to wake you up. Your guarded attitude around them had escaped no one, and they, quite frankly, found it adorable.

You were the only one who didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve around them.

The sleek, black van turned corner after corner around the winding paths of Ichabod, passing homes, places of commerce, and office buildings.

The Kim family lived deep within the woods, not too far away from the base of the monthly gatherings. All of the other town dwellers would walk from their homes, located at various points in the city, into the twisting black woods in order to appear at the meeting on time.

For the Kims would accept nothing less than perfection.

After another twenty minutes, Driver Bin cautiously approached a narrow dirt path and he directed the car onto the incline, winding upwards on the hill. The car then veered off to the right, entering a secluded road that would lead specifically to the Kim family mansion. 

It stood, raised on wooden platforms with impressive glass windows. The exterior shone in the afternoon sunlight, polished cherry wood glistening through the orange and green leaves on the forest trees.

There was no ostentatious fountain or statue outside the front of the home, nor were there piled bodies of the forsaken lying around their grounds, contrary to popular schoolyard taunts and beliefs. 

Only a winding, wooden staircase that led to the front door. 

The boys stared out the window, gaze breaking away from you for only a moment as they watched the approaching front gate.

A black, iron-wrought masterpiece, as well as their father’s pride and joy: the front gate worked all too well at keeping unwanted guests outside and favored guests inside of the Kim household.

Each of the brothers had grown up detesting that gate. Whether on purpose or by accident, it kept them locked up from the outside world, ostracizing them even more than they had already thought possible.

But now, as the old iron monstrosity creaked open, and as they watched their beloved sleep ever so sweetly....

Why, they wouldn’t have wished for anything other than for that gate to close once and for all, leaving you with them forever.

The metal closed with an ominous clang, and the van pulled into the home’s garage as the sun began to set.

——————————————————————

You peeled your eyes open, disoriented for just a moment before pure panic bled through.

The last thing you remembered was getting into the Kim’s car on your way to their home.

But now, you lay in a queen size, four poster bed covered with soft (f/c) sheets. The dark brown, wooden frame had beautiful gossamer, white sheets hanging down, wrapped around each end so that you could sit up without them getting in your way.

You looked down and found your school uniform still on, albeit a bit wrinkled. There was a sweater a bit too large for you wrapped around your shoulders. Your shoes were no longer on your feet, and the thought of someone taking those off for you made you flustered.

You weren’t sure how you had gotten to the room, but logic reasoned that one of the boys must have brought you in here to rest...

Your face twisted into an unreadable expression...you weren’t particularly sure how to feel about that. 

You should thank them and apologize, of course, but still, the entire situation only heightened your unease.

Your phone and backpack lay on the table next to the bed, and you picked the device up, checking the time. To your surprise, it had only been an hour since you left the school grounds. 

You texted your mother that you had arrived before getting off the bed and walking to the door in your socks. Before you could open it, however, your phone began to buzz in your hand.

“Hello?��

“(Y/N)! Is everything alright?” Your mother’s voice, tired but worried, sounded out from across the line. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine! We just got here. I had to use the bathroom so they led me to a guest room; that’s where I am right now.” You paced around the room as you spoke before sitting on the edge of the bed and fingering the silk canopy.

You decided not to tell your mother about the falling asleep part. What she didn’t know couldn’t worry her.

“That’s good. I get out of work in a couple of hours, I’ll call you when I’m on my way. Just tell me how the project’s going in the meantime, okay?” 

“Yeah, sure.” She cautioned you one more time before hanging up the phone.

You put it in your skirt pocket and pulled open the wooden door, relieved by the fact that it made no sound. It led you to a hallway and you carefully walked out into it, making sure not to disturb anyone.

You surmised that you were located on the bottom floor of the house. The room you were in had been situated at the very end of the hallway, and you found the lack of noise unsettling. 

At first, the only thing you could hear was the soft padding of your socked feet on the hardwood floor, but as you walked down the hallway, the sound of talking and laughing got louder and louder. 

You peeked your head around the corner to see all five of the boys seated in a sort of lounge with large, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. 

The Kims had somehow managed to perfectly blend the appearance of old money with the taste and style of new money artwork and design. The house looked like something straight out of a romantic fiction, young adult novel.

As you looked around the living room, it was somewhat hard for you to take in the amount of wealth in the home. The windows offered a splendid view of the surrounding forest from the inside, although clouded a bit by coffee voile curtains. Before them sat two settees with a small, rounded glass table between them. Closer to the entrance where you stood sat a gray sofa across from a much longer, L-shaped couch.

Taehyung and Jimin sat roughhousing passionately on the sofa while Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook sat on the longer couch opposite them. The former was laughing at the two’s shenanigans, clapping his hands in glee and the latter two were occupied with separate activities: Namjoon reading, occasionally pushing his glasses up on his face and Jungkook concerned with something on his phone.

You hesitantly walked out. “...Jimin?”

All five heads snapped up as they watched you approach.

Jimin’s face broke out into an even bigger smile and he jumped up to stand in front of you. “(Y/N)! How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“Did you sleep well?” Taehyung smiled mischievously from the couch, but you could tell from his tone that he meant well.

Your cheeks darkened in embarrassment. “Yeah! I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I thought I had handled my fatigue pretty well, but I guess it never actually left. You could’ve woken me up, you know...” You spoke with your head down, looking at your hands as they wrung together.

You heard the room go silent for a moment, just as you feared it would. When you looked up, all five of the boys had an enigmatic expression on their face.

It sent chills down your back, just how quickly their attitudes had switched. They went from joyful laughter and peaceful content to emotions you felt were unstable...you sensed a bit of helplessness paired with indifference, and the slightest hint of anger and contempt. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to remind of them of the reason why they were ostracized so much, why they were seen as different. You mentally smacked yourself in the forehead, making a note to be more sensitive about the topic while you were in their presence.

The sound of a hardcover book snapping shut broke the silence, causing you to jump. 

Namjoon gently placed the book he was reading on the couch’s armrest and looked at you with a cordial smile. “You should take better care of yourself, (Y/N). It wouldn’t do for you to fall asleep in your classes or end up unwell.”

With that sentence, the spell was broken. 

Jimin gently took your forearm and tugged you into the direction of the sofa he was sitting on earlier, pouting as he spoke. “I should have known...you looked ready to drop since our break this morning.”

He seated you and took the place on your right as you waved him off. “It’s fine, it was my fault-”

“If you still want to rest, feel free to go back to the guest room!” Taehyung added, claiming the spot on the other side of you.

“Never feel like you have to hide how you feel around us, (Y/N).” Hoseok said with another winning grin, leaning forward in his seat. 

You blinked warily at all of their support. “Well...thanks, guys.”

Your eyes stopped on Jungkook, who was staring at you, and his heavy gaze made you itch.

You leaned back in your seat and felt the sweater you’d woken up with start to slip. 

You pulled it off of your shoulders, beginning to question how it even got there in the first place, and met eyes with Jungkook again. “Is this yours...?”

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak for the first time. “You were shivering in your sleep in the car. I thought you might need it, so I left it with you after I carried you in.”

You folded it and handed it back to him, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. “Thank you, Jungkook. Again, I’m sorry for falling asleep on you all like that.”

He took it from you, large eyes getting slightly wider in wonder. 

“It’s alright, (Y/N). We’re glad to help you out with whatever you need.” Namjoon nodded and smiled, the dimple in his left cheek prominent. You smiled, a bit more relaxed now but still cautious of your behavior.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home, then.” You replied, admiring the layout once more.

“Aww, she thinks our home is lovely.” Taehyung gushed. “Seokjin hyung would love to hear that someone finally appreciates his taste in design.”

You cocked your head at him. “Your brother designed this living room?”

“Our eldest brother,” Jimin gushed. “He threw a huge tantrum a couple of years ago, complaining to our parents about how much he couldn’t stand the decor, so they let him draw up a design plan...then they ended up going along with it.”

“He and Yoongi hyung, our other brother, are usually studying away at college,” Taehyung went on. “Our parents bought them an apartment in the city so they could be closer to the campus, but because they have to be present for the meetings, they come back home for a bit every month.”

“They were here last night, but then they had to leave immediately.” Hoseok added.

Before the discussion could continue, you heard the sound of sharp clacks approaching the room.

“My darling sons,” A tilting voice spoke from the entryway and out came one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen (aside from your mother, of course). 

She glided across the wooden floor in sensibly high heels, a silk dress complementing her figure and a tan blazer resting on her shoulders. In her hands, she carried a silver tray full of neatly arranged snacks. 

“I brought a little something for you all to enjoy! I know how hungry you all get-oh....who is this?” She slowed with a smile as she approached the couch.

Kim Eunbyul was not a person meant to be taken lightly. Her status in this town was no different than royalty, and she exemplified grace with every step that she took. 

As expected of the two time winner of the Pluton Actress Award.

You stared at her in amazement before you quickly snapped back to your senses and rose, giving a polite bow in greeting. “Good evening, Mrs. Kim! I’m (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” she hummed, laying the tray on the table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Might I ask why you’ve decided to visit our humble home?”

“She’s here on my invitation, Mother.” Jimin spoke and your gaze snapped over to him in shock. His tone sounded so...flat, so unfazed, so unlike every other expression you’d heard him use today. “We have a group project for Mrs. Hargrove’s class, one that will be a considerable part of our grade.”

“Alright, I understand.” She chided him slightly, seemingly used to his attitude. She came to stand before you, leaning a good couple of inches above you. “Let me get a good look at you.”

You smiled at her—an actual smile this time, albeit a small one—as she grasped your hands in hers. 

To your surprise, you could feel them tremble slightly.

You stood there, making an effort to avoid eye contact as she studied you. When you looked to the brothers’ in an attempt for nonverbal help, your breath hitched.

The siblings gazed at their mother with something likened to...no, something that was utter detestation.

Jungkook payed her no mind, his thumb obsessively stroking the sweater he held in his possession once more. 

Hoseok and Taehyung openly glared at their mother behind her back, the elder’s lips frowning in annoyance and the younger’s twisting into a sneer.

Jimin’s eyes glued onto her, oozing indifference, his gaze all too similar to the one he’d sent Mrs. Hargrove earlier that day. 

Namjoon simply watched his mother with cocky amusement glinting in his eyes.

Mrs. Kim gave your hands a gentle squeeze and she smiled. “You have a wonderful energy around you, my dear. You possess a wisdom far beyond your years, and great power as well. I advise you to be wary of some of the people around you, though. They may want to steal your power for themselves.” She gave a small sigh and pat the back of your hands before lowering them gently.

“Thank...you?” You smiled at her in polite confusion. As far as you knew, Mrs. Kim was an actress. No one had said anything about her being able to tell people’s fortunes.

Your classmates would have called her a witch.

But with her husband acting as Wylynne’s divine messenger, would she truly have no powers herself...?

“Of course, my dear.” She gave you one last smile. “Please, enjoy yourself, and make yourself right at home. Our doors will always be open to you.”

She then left the living room, not so much as sparing a glance towards her sons. Not that they would have wanted it anyway, for they looked as though they couldn’t stand a second longer of her presence.

You watched her go, leaving with the same grace that she came in with, but much quicker than before. 

Your palm still tickled from the feeling of her trembling hand in yours.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon stood up, brushing off his uniform pants. “I wouldn’t take her prediction to heart. Our mother tends to do that to everyone she meets-”

“Are they true?”

“...What?” 

Just as you started getting slightly comfortable in this bizarre atmosphere, Namjoon’s intense stare brought you back to the present, reminding you of your place.

“Is there some truth to her evaluations?” You innocently asked, trying not to cave under the weight of the older boy’s attention.

“I must admit, I wouldn’t know,” he chuckled, his gaze softening, “we’re the only ones she refuses to do a reading on.”

You nodded, intrigued. “I see. I just find those interesting, is all...”

“Well,” Jimin interrupted, hopping up and clapping his hands. “we should get started on our project!”

“I left my bag in the room, I should go get it.” You turned to go in the general direction of the hallway from which you came but was stopped by Taehyung gently grabbing your elbow. 

“Here!” He stood up, toeing his sandals off and sliding them in your direction. “Jungkook took your shoes off and placed them at the front of the house with the rest of ours, so you might need these.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’ll be sure to return them before I leave.” You smiled at him.

He blushed and grinned in return. 

Jungkook's hair fell into his eyes as he looked down in shame. “I should have prepared a pair of slippers for you while you were sleeping, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it!” You claimed, just to watch his eyes light up again.

“Good luck on the project, you two!” Hoseok said, turning to leave.

“Let me come with you, (Y/N)!” Jimin said, taking you by the hand. “We’ll be right back, Namjoon hyung!”

He pulled you towards the entryway and you heard the boys start to disassemble behind you, heading off toward their respective locations with the exception of Namjoon, who sat back down on the couch to wait.

You traipsed down the hallway with Jimin. “I think your mother is a lovely person,” you quietly stated.

Jimin didn’t pause, but his grip on your elbow tightened before he turned to you, eyes scrunched together because of his wide smile. “I’m glad you think so! I think she likes you as well.”

You smiled back at him, carefully watching his expression, before turning your gaze to the wood floor. He stood at the doorway as you grabbed your bag and arranged the bed. 

When that was finished, the two of you walked down the hallway and met up with Namjoon, and ascended to the third floor of the home.

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

The Kims’ library looked like something out of Beauty and the Beast, though it was nowhere near as grandiose in height. Your inner bookworm squealed at the sight of all the books lining the shelves, as well as the plush couch and beanbags resting in the leftmost corner of the library. 

You held on to the strap of your bag, following Jimin and Namjoon as they weaved their way through multiple bookcases.

Namjoon reached a dilapidated wooden shelf at the back of the room. His fingers trailed over the book backings and he backtracked and picked one up, blowing the dust off of it only to end up coughing. Jimin muffed his giggle as he covered his nose and mouth with his sweater sleeve.

“I believe this is what you were looking for,” he said once his coughing fit was over, “The Word of the Lost.”

What a fascinating title...

“Ah, yes, hyung! This is exactly what we needed!” Jimin’s eyes practically sparkled as he took the book from his brother. It was an old, leather bound thing and the glossy pages flashed underneath the dim library lights. 

It reminded you of the older bibles with illuminated pages.

“Thank you for helping us look.” You said. Namjoon nodded toward you with his classic student-body-president smile.

“Of course. I thumbed through this book many times as a child.” Namjoon said. “I’m sure you both will be able to find a fascinating creature to do your report on.” 

The three of you walked out from the labyrinth of shelves and you beelined toward the couch, making yourself comfortable.

Jimin came to sit next to you, placing the book on his lap and waving goodbye to his brother. While you were bent over retrieving your school materials, Namjoon returned the wave with a smirk and left the library, leaving the two of you to your work.

You pulled out your notebook and a writing utensil, turning to Jimin as your academic weariness set in once more. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” he stated, opening the book. “I don’t spend as much time in the library as Namjoon hyung, but I do remember there being a host of creatures in this book...”

UnFortunately, Namjoon’s recollection of the text was spot on. There were so many mythological creatures, you and Jimin were overwhelmed and didn’t know which one to pick.

“How about banshees?” Jimin suggested. 

“The harbingers of death?” You mused. “I know of them. They’re one of my favorites.”

“Ah...then what about the wendigo?”

You shuddered. “I know about them as well; their folklore is so interesting, but so creepy.”

Jimin nodded, paging through the novel again. “We could research golems?”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’ve heard about them before relative to Jewish mythology...and they’re somewhat similar to the Egyptian ushabti.”

Jimin playfully groaned and dropped his head back onto the couch. “You’re so learned, (Y/N)! How did you hear about all of these mythological figures?”

You shrugged and smiled a bit, doodling in your notebook. “I’ve just come across them in some way or another...usually through the media.”

You gently took the book off of Jimin’s lap and decided to thumb through it yourself, turning to the chapter list to see the different branches of creatures. Your finger ran down the list before stopping at a certain name. 

“...Jimin, have you ever heard anything about nephilim?”

He stiffened and his brows furrowed. “No. What are they?” 

You flipped the book to the demonstrated page number and began reading. “‘Nephilim are creatures conceived of humans and angels. These fascinating individuals are born with immense amounts of both angelic grace and the original sin of human beings.’” You beamed. “Perfect! This creature sounds the most interesting-”

You turned to speak to Jimin and found his face uncomfortably close to yours. Gone was the innocent, boyish expression on his face, replaced by an endearing and inquisitive stare.

You immediately turned your head to look back down at the page. “-of the creatures...and the least known,” you mumbled, hoping he couldn’t see the tint of red on your cheeks.

Rather than taking the book for himself, Jimin started reading it over your shoulder. You tried not to breathe too hard with his proximity.

He’s too close...

“‘As they mature, they must come to terms with their proclivity to sin and balance it out with their angelic nature. Nevertheless, this arduous task often leaves them with an identity crisis, and most succumb to their sinful natures.’” Once he finished, he turned to you with an impressed look. “You’re right! This sounds really interesting, and if you haven’t heard of these figures, then they should definitely be the one we research.”

“Yeah! So we should get started, then,” you said, pulling out your laptop and casually reseating yourself a couple inches away from Jimin. 

“Mrs. Hargrove wants us to do a presentation as well as write an essay for this project...which do you think we should we work on first?” You asked him, sending your mother your location, and opening a new tab. 

“We could write the essay first, and then pull information from that to combine it with what we find from our research for the presentation.” Jimin suggested, taking out a laptop of his own.

“Sounds good! I shared a document with you.”

The both of you spent the next two hours on your computers, researching as many articles on nephilim as possible. It was somewhat difficult, finding authentic sources about the creatures rather than commentaries on media representations of them, but working off of what The Word of the Lost gave you, there was enough to compile a hefty source list.

After that, however, you, still mentally exhausted, started to get distracted, and then Jimin decided to take a break as well. The project was due near the end of the semester, and the two of you had made enough progress for tonight. You deserved this break.

Outside, the light changed from the orange afternoon sun to the cool blue of evening. Before your very eyes, the sky outside was purple, and the oranges and greens of the leaves had disappeared in the dark, turning into obscure figures and shapes outside the window that left you wanting to pull the curtains closed.

A couple of minutes later, you were startled by the click of the library doors.

Mrs. Kim peered through the opening. “Ah, there you both are!”

She approached you and Jimin with two glasses of water, one in each hand. 

You took the glass she handed to you and expressed your thanks. Her hands didn’t seem to be trembling as much as they were earlier.

“How is it going?”

“We made a lot of progress--I think this project is going to be a good one.” You smiled at her and she returned it, relieved.

She raised a hand and paused, hesitantly lowering it gently into Jimin’s hair and stroking it lovingly. The boy froze, lowering the glass from his lips and turning to look at Mrs. Kim.

“Yes, thank you, Mother.” His tone remained flat.

She breathed out a sigh and nodded at him before turning to you. “(Y/N), darling, I believe your mother has arrived downstairs.”

Your eyes widened and you began packing your school materials. “Oh, really? She didn’t even tell me! I must have overstayed my welcome.”

Mrs. Kim laughed lightheartedly. “Not at all dear. It’s most likely because she encountered my husband along the way. They’re both seated downstairs, talking.”

On the outside, you managed to give Mrs. Kim a pleasant smile. On the inside, however, your thoughts were raging. 

Why, of all people, would Kim Moonsik want to have a conversation with her?

If that old man tries to sacrifice my mother to his creepy little moon goddess, I swear, I’ll-

“I can take you to meet with her, no worries.” Mrs. Kim stated, bringing her blazer closer around her shoulders. “I’ll just wait for you outside.”

She glanced at Jimin once more and turned away, heels clacking on the floor as the click of the door sounded.

You zipped up your bag, having nothing else to pack, and pulled it over your shoulder. 

Before you could stand to leave, however, Jimin gently took your hand in his.

“(Y/N), before you go, I just wanted to say thank you.”

The boy was looking down at his lap, his eyes covered by strands of his hair. You patiently waited for him to finish.

“I know everyone is suspicious of us and would rather not interact with us at all for fear of...” he paused on the last bit, “but you have been the only to one to approach us wholeheartedly.”

“Thank you for not treating us like freaks, or some sort of plague or disease like everyone else.” Jimin raised his head, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

You smiled and gently squeezed his hand. “Please, think nothing of it. Why would I treat you like something you’re not?”

“You and your brothers are all just people. You’re a family, just like how everyone else in this town has families.” You spoke quietly. “You may not be the most...orthodox of families, yes, but you’re hardly to blame for that. Who’s to decide what the norm is anyway?”

Besides, I have no reason to hurt you or yours, you thought. 

Jimin huffed out a sob and gathered you in his arms in a hug. You grunted, as it was unexpected, but hesitantly raised your arms to pat him on the back. 

“It’s alright,” you murmured.

Behind your back, Jimin did have tears falling down his face, but rather than a look of sorrow or suffering, sheer, hysterical glee appeared on his face.

He struggled to suppress the broad grin threatening to take over his expression.

The smell of your hair was intoxicating...

“I thank the goddess for you, (Y/N),” he murmured, low enough that you could not make out what he said.

He made sure he regained control of his expression and then pulled away from the hug with a soft smile. He stood up and took your bag for you, much like how you had taken his earlier that day, and led you to his mother, who was waiting outside.

The three of you walked down the two flights of stairs to find Namjoon, Hoseok, and their father speaking with your mother.

She was quite the visage in their home, sitting on the smaller gray sofa, still in her scrubs. 

Kim Moonsik sat in front of her, with one of his sons on either side, looking like interviewers for a job position, while she sat on the edge of the couch opposite them, her hands placed in her lap and looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“Yes, well, working at the hospital has its downsides, but it also has its valuable life experience,” you heard her say. “I truly enjoy caring for and working with all kinds of patients, as well as with the staff of the inter-professional team.”

You heard a hearty laugh, followed by the voice that you were supposed to only be subject to once a month. 

“Careers like yours are crucial in the eyes of the moon goddess, Ms. (L/N). It sounds as though you’re doing a wonderful job.” Kim Moonsik grinned and nodded at your mother, who forced a laugh. “Wylynne looks down on you with favor.” 

“Ah, thank you, Mayor Kim. Praise Wylynne...”

She made eye contact with you as you descended the staircase and quietly sighed in relief.

“There’s our guest for the evening!” Mr. Kim cheered and stood up, walking to stand in front of you and Jimin while his wife slipped by, pressing a kiss to his cheek, as she went to sit next to your mother.

Without the luminescent glow of the moon or the intimidating glow of purple flames streaking across his face, Kim Moonsik almost looked like any other successful businessman and father. He and his wife both had dark hair and dark eyes, and they appeared to be quite the happy couple.

But there was no way that the past several years of monthly meetings was a dream. There was plenty of reason for caution around them, no matter how pleasant they may seem.

Your mother had nagged enough sense into you for you to know that much, at the very least.

You bowed again, hoping your nerves weren’t showing through your voice. “Good evening, Mr. Kim. I’m (Y/N) (L/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He chuckled in a good natured manner. “The pleasure is all mine...I trust you and Jimin were able to accomplish what you needed for your project?”

How did he know? “Ah, yes...we made loads of progress today.” You smiled politely.

“Eunbyul told me all about our visitors just before I arrived,” he responded as though he heard your question and smiled proudly, gently clapping Jimin on the back. “That’s amazing news to hear.”

Jimin smiled cordially, pulling you away from his father and walked over towards his brothers.

“(Y/N)-ie is leaving us now,” Hoseok fake pouted. 

You grimace-smiled at him. 

“Please,” Namjoon scoffed. “She’ll be over here so many times, we’ll start to get sick of her, right (Y/N)?”

“As long as you don’t mind having me over,” you said. “We have until the end of the semester to do the project, so, yeah, I might be over a couple more times...” You slowed as the reality of the situation started to hit. “Actually, Jimin, can I see your phone?”

He handed you his phone and you put your number in his contacts and texted yourself. “Now you have my number, and I have yours.” You smiled at him and handed the device back.

Jimin’s eyes widened in glee and he grinned in return. “Thanks, (Y/N)!”

Hoseok’s fists tightened his pockets.

Kim Eunbyul stood to her feet, her conversation apparently over. “You and your daughter are welcome any time,” she emphasized, placing a hand on your mother’s back. 

“Indeed, Ms. (L/N), Our home is your home.” Kim Moonsik added, placing his hands on his wife’s shoulders.

“Thank you so much, we’re truly grateful for the invitation.” You heard your mother say.

You carefully slid Taehyung’s sandals off your feet and lifted them up. Jimin handed you your backpack in exchange for the sandals and you took it, swinging it over your shoulders. “Please tell Taehyung and Jungkook I said goodbye, and that it was lovely meeting you all.” You said.

“We will!” Hoseok smiled, waving goodbye.

“See you tomorrow at school!” Jimin called and waved enthusiastically.

You waved and bowed to the Kims one more time, then took your mother’s hand and walked down the front steps.

Her car was parked outside the garage (read: haphazardly strewn across the asphalt). 

Your mother got into the front seat and put on her seatbelt without saying a word. Even when she began to drive, she was eerily silent.

It was not until the both of you were outside of the gates, down the hill, and outside of the forest that your mother abruptly stepped on the brakes and unbuckled her seatbelt, exiting the car.

You repeated her movements in alarm, slamming the passenger door shut and running to the other side of the car.

You got there just in time to watch as she keeled over on the side of the road and began to throw up.

“Mom!”

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

Back at the Kim household, the instant the two guests left, a violent chill swept across the room.

Hoseok went to stand threateningly in front of Jimin. “Don’t go around thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”

The younger boy’s grin morphed into a devilish sneer. “Be careful, hyung...it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous.” He shook his phone, still open to (Y/N)’s contact information, tauntingly.

Namjoon scoffed at their bickering before turning his attention to smile at Moonsik and Eunbyul. “Mother...Father...we bid you goodnight.”

Hoseok smirked, following Namjoon up the stairs.

Jimin made a move to go follow them as well, but he stopped in front of Eunbyul. 

“Mother dearest.” The sophomore gripped the woman’s chin, turning her gaze to land directly on him. “As the most talented actress in our county, your performance could have been a bit more...convincing.” 

He looked her up and down, and then released her, throwing her to the right and out of his direct path. Eunbyul stumbled to the side, her form quite visibly shaking.

“I look forward to seeing what you come up with in the future.”

Jimin shouldered Moonsik, climbing past him up to his room on the second floor.

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

Your mother had stopped throwing up, but you continued rubbing her back comfortingly. 

She stood up on wobbly legs and you supported her on the way back to the car. You reached in your bag for your water bottle and some tissues, handing them to her.

She cleaned her mouth off, swished some water around in her mouth, spat it out the window, and then drank some more.

Before you could even ask if she was alright, she turned to you with another stern look. “I was so worried about you.”

Your eyes widened incredulously, but softened just as fast. “Mom, you didn’t have to worry! We were just working on a class project, like I said.”

Your mother nodded and sighed, putting the seatbelt back on. “I understand. It-it’s just terrifying to realize how close you were to-” She trailed off and tried again. “I mean, what if....”

This was a first, for you, to see your mother so visibly shaken. 

She usually was, and is, the epitome of strength in your life. To think that seeing the Kims jarred her to this point...

You grasped your mother’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. They’re just people, Mom.”

“People can be just as dangerous as deities,” she whispered, putting the car into drive.

With that thought, the both of you sat in ominous silence until you had arrived at your home.

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

Once you and your mother arrived, you both had dinner and you ensured that she was able to go to bed of sound mind and heart. From the way she pushed you off of her, you surmised she had collected herself enough to return to her usual temperament.

You made your way up the stairs to your room and threw your bag somewhere near you desk, booking it to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, after a refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you sat at your desk. It was already significantly late, and you still had to complete the other classes’ homework that you didn’t have the chance to start while at the Kim’s.

As you basked in the comfort of your home’s walls, you felt truly relaxed for the first time that night. 

Jimin and his brothers were, for the most part nice, although misunderstood. The student body usually stayed away from them because of their parents and the influence they had on this town.

 Perhaps if this town were normal...

You sighed and immediately chased the thought away. This town was far from normal, that couldn’t be clear enough. And with Kim Moonsik in charge, the sense of unearthliness clearly wouldn’t change any time soon. 

You spent the next couple of hours doing the other assignments to the best of your ability. When you deemed it enough, you decided to call it a night, packing your things away and climbing under the covers.

Just as you began scrolling through social media, your phone vibrated from an incoming notification and your brows furrowed. 

Who was still awake at this hour? And why were they contacting you?

Perhaps it was Mana, you thought, begging to hear details about what it was like at the Kim house before tomorrow. You probably should have texted them when you got home, considering school was no longer the most....open place to have these discussions.

Nevertheless, you opened your messages and, to your surprise, there lay a text from none other than Kim Jimin.

I’m really glad I met you, (Y/N) 😇

Aww, that’s sweet of him, you thought.

You paused, wondering if you should pretend that you’re asleep rather than text him back right now, as the conversation could always continue in the morning.

You also thought of how he might nag you should he discover you’re awake at this hour after passing out in his car and at his house, and winced.

Yes, it would be best to ignore that until tomorrow morning.

Having had enough of the day, you put your phone to charge and pressed your head to the pillow, falling asleep.

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

As Jimin lay in bed that night, he thought about your comment earlier this afternoon.

“I’m so sorry about that, I just..didn’t get a lot of sleep last night...You could’ve woken me up, you know...”

It wasn’t the fact that they were reminded of the sacrifice last night that made them pause.

No, it was the fact that that worthless scum caused their beloved to lose precious hours, minutes, and even seconds of sleep.

Almost every meaningful contribution Natalia Pierre gave life, served to make yours more difficult than it already was.

She should have been a sacrifice much, much sooner.

On the other hand, they should have thanked her, they supposed. For it was her demise that led you to sleep so silently, so soundly in their presence.

They had finally gotten the opportunity to see you at your most vulnerable, and they couldn’t get enough of it.

But they reined in their greed and held any dominating thoughts at bay. For patience was the art of the game.

Sooner or later, willingly or unwillingly, you would present yourself to them and their company.

And they would welcome you with open hearts and open arms.

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

~taglist~ 

@melaninkpops​ @loserwithapen​ @hellaspookystudent​ @ecillartto​ @omgsuperstarg​ @ace-angel-judas​ @jjamsbangtan​ @lovinggalaxies​ @lovesick-heart0​ @ksxmpoison​ @girlmeetsliv3​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @purpuravm​ @oneweirdbean​ @hopelessfountainjoonie​ @mazmaz30​ @enigmaticlove-03​ @uppiespuppy​ 

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Flute Solo

For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.

There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.  

He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart. 

Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.  

The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.

Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.

(more after the cut)

He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.

Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would. 

Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up.  The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.

She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become? 

Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.  

Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.

War Council

Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that. 

The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room. 

Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way. 

He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.

He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.

Everybody: Really? Do tell!  

Wei Wuxian: Happy to!

Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend* 

Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.

He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.

This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.

Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.

Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.

Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron. 

Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.

Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck. 

Lying Is Forbidden 

Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.) 

At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.

Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!

Q:  Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month? 

a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics c.) I don’t know

Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?

a.) obviously b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power c.) no, he’s not like that

Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?

a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?

Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.

Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?

They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.

Awkwardness

The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues. 

Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.

Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family. 

Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.

Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.

Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude. 

And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.

Macroexpression Brothers

OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal. 

Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge. 

Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.

Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure. 

Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.

Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.

No one bites back as hard On their anger None of my pain and woe Can show through

But my dreams, they aren't as empty As my conscience seems to be I have hours, only lonely My love is vengeance that's never free

More Awkwardness

Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing. 

Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him.  This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.

Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on. 

Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her.  He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.

Nunya

Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]

In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you.  Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for. 

Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him. 

Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return. 

She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.

Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed. 

Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up. 

He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood. 

Eat A Dick Sword

Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him. 

This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation. 

When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack. 

Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.

On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them.  I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.  

Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.

This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price. 

By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him. 

This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants. 

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who

Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) | Ch.8(1) | Ch.8(2) | Ch.8(3) | Ch.9(1) | Ch.9(2) |

Ch.9: No lies (3)

Naruto leaves early in the morning. Between his increasing training and the still ongoing tension regarding the attacks, he doesn’t have much time to spare. People seek him and Naruto is barely enough to appease their worries. 

    Hinata usually stirs as soon as he begins to leave the bed -taking his warmth with him-, but Naruto kisses her face until she falls asleep again. Or at least until she pretends to, the few times she tried to wake with him, Naruto had been adamant into letting her sleep till late. 

    “Listen,” he had been serious, his hand on her arms, “even if you weren’t pregnant I wouldn’t want you to wake at the crack of dawn. I mean, there’s nothing to do at this ungodly hour,” he had cackled, but Hinata knew and so he approached her by targeting her feelings, “I want you to take care of yourself, all right?” his hand to her stomach, “for our baby, please?”

    How could she deny him?

    “Also, even if you weren’t pregnant this are dumb hours to be awake.”

    “You are a-awake.”

    “Doesn’t make it any less dumb, darling.”

    So she sleeps. And when Naruto prepares to leave their room she stirs to get a kiss from him and stops moving to let him leave with peace of mind. She struggled to fall asleep at first, but now it’s easier. She’s more tired, too. 

    And although she hears and sees things around her, she keeps them at bay. Naruto shares with her all the information he has, so she knows everything that is happening. But at long last, something she has learned from being her father’s daughter comes in handy. 

    She listens, learns, and then keeps on with her life. Of course, now there are no comments regarding her inability to help, nor mean-spirited remarks regarding her lack of power, so it is easier to keep herself focused. Infinitely easier.  

    Naruto is almost back to normal, strength-wise, and he’s beginning to practice fighting enemies without looking at their eyes. An Uchiha countermeasure. He says it’s fun and Hinata can see the tinkle in his eyes that corroborate his words, but… she wishes he didn’t have to. 

    The freed Tailed Beasts are sealed already too, not in a human vessel, but at least hidden and away for any greedy hand that could want them. 

Or for an Uchiha to find. 

    Naruto had been worried at first, about any attack that could happen brought by this unsteady situation with the Beast Tamers, and although Shikamaru had checked and revised time and time again the clan’s defenses, Hinata could sometimes feel his fear in the way his arms would lock around her. 

    The return of his strength has done wonders to keep him calm. 

    That and the good news regarding her pregnancy. 

    Hinata has safely entered her second trimester and although she is more confined than before, she is happy. Kiba likes to joke around and mocks Naruto’s need to keep her under surveillance, but Hinata understands it’s his way to make her feel more at ease with this situation. He knows. She knows. Everyone does. Shikamaru -when he is the one to accompany her on her walks- makes sure to share with her their measures against intruders, the patrols they have put in place, the guards he and Naruto have placed around her.

    She can tell people worry she may be anxious about her situation, as she is pregnant with the clan leader’s child. And she is worried about the situation, but she can’t help but worry more about another topic that seems to never be able to leave her alone, that comes back at all times, that leaves her staring at nothing in the night. That leaves her gasping for air, now more than ever, now that she wishes for a happy life with Naruto like never before. 

    She can’t help but think about her husband. About her husband and his lifespan, about her husband and his training, about her husband and the expectations placed upon him, about her husband and the way he seems too eager to push himself to his limits. 

    About all these trials that seem to come one after the other without rest. 

    He is more nervous, too. He hides it well, but he comes see her more frequently, and although he tries to seem nonchalant, the way his shoulders relax when he lays eyes on her, the way he sighs when he hugs her... Hinata understands. Naruto is inside the clan at all times now, she can see him every day, lay with him just as much, and she can’t seem to escape the want of staying right next to him as much as possible. 

    She has to busy herself with little chores throughout the day to keep her thoughts at bay. The worst thing she can do is keep herself alone and holed up, so she talks, seeks people, walks, and annoys Sakura with questions regarding her body. 

    So she oftentimes walks. Always with a guard, usually with Sai, Kiba or Shino. Sometimes Sakura or Ino if their work allows. 

    This time, she can’t find anyone, so she looks around. Sometimes Shikamaru comes finds her. Lord Minato and Lady Mito are as busy as Naruto, but they make time too. And yet, this day, she sees no one. 

    She walks absent-mindedly, thinks about how she’s been spending more time than ever before with her cousin, and yet can’t remember having a proper conversation with him. Naruto is always there and Neji does his work with professionalism before leaving as fast as he arrives. 

As if he was avoiding them. 

Her.

Hinata doesn’t really know what comes over her, but her legs move without thinking and she finds herself right outside of Neji’s room. He has his sliding door wide open and he's writing a letter. He hasn't noticed her, or if he has he has decided to ignore her. 

The familiarity of this situation makes her doubt, but then she takes a step forward and Neji turns around. 

"Lady Hinata." He looks taken aback, so Hinata surmises that he did not, in fact, notice her before. But now he looks expectant and Hinata should say something.

"I- I-," Neji triggers her stutter and her embarrassment grows as the words struggle to come out. "I c-can't find S-Sai," or anybody else for that matter, but if she were to list everyone's names, Neji could finish three letters before she finished her sentence, "and I w-wish to take a s-stroll."

Neji stands immediately, "Of course," he says and walks to her. Not a second look to whatever he was doing. 

"Y-your letter-"

"I will finish when we come back, Lady Hinata. Let us go." 

Consideration or anger? Hinata can't tell. She has never been able to tell. 

Neji walks a step behind her, and remains silent. Just like when he would accompany her at the Hyuga compound. 

Hinata convinces herself this is nothing more than her want to talk with someone -as she has grown used to it with her usual guards-, and not the desperate need to have some sort of connection with her cousin, who seemed ready to throw her away without a second thought so long ago. 

Hinata still doesn't know what to make of it. Consideration or disgust? 

Consideration or revenge? For being such a poor fit to remain as heiress to the clan? 

Her mouth is dry and she wonders whether Neji will listen, whether he will turn and leave her here when she annoys him too much. She knows he won't, Naruto would have made sure of that. 

So maybe he is forced to stay with her and listen and protect her and so she can talk -or try- and make him listen and stay and protect her. She doesn't want to admit that deep inside of her she wants a relationship with her cousin. 

With the only person who seemed to care for her when they were children. 

Duty or familial love?

She never knew. 

She gathers her courage and makes as if admiring a patch of flowers. 

"Y-your l-letter, I am sorry I i-interrupted you."

"Oh, no. Please do not worry, it is not an urgent letter at all, rest assured."

And silence returns as if they never talked. Neji is closer now, as he had to crouch to listen. Hinata waits a second, and another, thinking that maybe Neji will get the hint and keep the conversation flowing. 

But maybe he is as clueless as her, or maybe he doesn't want to. She turns her head to him, trying to read his intentions for once in her life. But Neji rests his gaze on her, immutable, barely moving his body, and Hinata turns around with more questions than before. 

As if that were possible. 

Neji struggles to understand what Lady Hinata wants from him. A servant, for sure, a guard next, but a conversation partner? Him? 

He has seen her taking her strolls with numerous people before. Many a day. Smiling and talking like he has never seen her before. Laughing, even. Sai, of course, with whom she shares calm conversations guided by Sai's questions about everyday life. Kiba, who seems eager to spend time with her -something about her laughing at his jokes, Neji heard once-. Shino, who's aura seems so similar to hers that you can barely hear their conversations as they walk around. Sakura and Ino, whose energy is always high up, and although one would think their friendship would be somewhat strained, Lady Hinata's laugh is always the biggest with them. Shikamaru, even, who seems to enjoy her knowledge about other clans.

Lady Minato and Lady Mito, who find time in their busy schedules to talk to her. 

Lord Naruto, who runs after a meeting or training to steal a peck, making her blush, and leaves with the same haste. 

And then... him? A man from the Hyuga clan who can't bring himself to talk to her in fear of saying something he shouldn't? 

His very existence is tied to the worst part of hers. As such, he ought to shrivel down , far away. Hopefully like her own memories about that place. 

He has been asked today because everyone else is unavailable. Not because she sought his company. 

So he walks a step behind, like a guard should. And remains quiet, because… what can he say that won't sound wrong? 

And then Lady Hinata speaks to him. And then looks at him in earnest. As if expecting something. And Neji is at a loss. 

He wonders about topics he can share that won't sour her mood. And the only one that comes to mind, that hasn't been tainted by the Hyuga, leaves his mouth.

"The letter, uh, it's for a friend I made while living here." 

"A… f-friend?"

Yes, it's surprising for him, too. 

"Yes, a friend. Back when, uh, well, I was to be taken back to the Hyuga but Lord Naruto let me stay here in the end, I was given a house in the outer compound, as well as money for my expenses, and well… I lived there on my own and tried not to bother anyone else. She just found me and started to visit and make me help her with her shop."

"Oh…" Hinata wants to ask, ask so many questions she knows will only burden him, so her eyes flutter around, unable to press on and yet grabbing on this chance to-

"She- her name is Tenten, a bit weird, but means well. She introduced me to a friend of hers, too, Rock Lee," Hinata raises her eyebrows at the name and Neji shrugs, "I know, he's even weirder, but also means well." 

Somehow, as they walk, Neji shares more of his life on the outer compound, and Hinata feels the wall between them disappear. He remains silent sometimes, as if gathering his thoughts, but Hinata waits. Waits as much as necessary, because she feels this opportunity has taken them so long. 

So very long.

She can wait for him. 

When Neji leaves her in her room, as he starts to retreat, robotics movements like Hinata has never seen before, Hinata stops him.

"I would… I would l-like it if y-you could accompany me some o-other day, too." 

This time it's easier to voice her wishes, because she thinks… believes, that maybe Neji is just as awkward at this as she is. 

He doesn't smile. He doesn't nod, either. He looks at her and before leaving just whispers, "Of course. As Lady Hinata…” then he ventures, “as you wish." 

And Hinata gifts him the first genuine smile directed at him in a decade.

⁂⁂⁂

Naruto’s godfather arrives a month and a half later than he promised Minato. With little fanfare. 

Naruto is walking to his next appointment when the sound of feet running around catches his attention. In the distance he sees the long white hair of Jiraiya, billowing as he walks down the hallways surrounded by flustered servants who don't know whether to announce his arrival or make him comfortable. Shikamaru just shrugs before he keeps on walking. "I'll take this one alone, then. I'll see you after to report."

Naruto scoffs but turns around and trots to meet his godfather. 

"Old man!" He bellows, enough to make a few heads turn his way. 

Jiraiya raises his hand in greeting and then makes a beeline to Naruto. They are practically the same height, with Naruto standing taller by mere inches -a point that has been the source of many scrambles throughout the years- and Naruto has to hit Jiraiya's back to let him breathe. 

"Well," Jiraiya gives him a once-over and then frowns, "I was told you were dying."

"When have I not been, though?"

They laugh and slap each other's shoulders in good humor. Minato hates this type of banter. Hates how they trivialize Naruto's situation by making light of his struggles. 

Naruto thinks his godfather's attitude has saved his life more than once. 

"You'll have to check my seal with dad, but aside from that, I don't think you'll do much."

"Hey, you smell that?"

"What?"

"I smell a nonja."

"Ha ha."

"A nonja business!" Jiraiya slaps Naruto's arm as if his godson didn't just realize his whole joke before he said it. "Come on, don't tell me what my job is, child. I don't go round the world just to come back empty handed now, do I?"

Naruto stares at him, brows raised. And Jiraiya opens his arms with a shocked face, "Not all the time," he defends himself. 

A lackluster defense, obviously, as Naruto still has the same problems he has had since… forever. 

"No, I mean it. The thing you always tell me to wait to be completed before bringing it with your dad? Done, my man." 

Naruto startles. Funny. Now of all times. That. 

He says nothing though, and Jiraiya takes it as rejection. "You know I've got to tell your dad, son." 

"Sure, do whatever." Naruto raises his hand and waves it around as if he couldn't care less, "I'll present my wife to you, come on." 

"You made me keep quiet because it was a gamble, but now it is real, Naruto."

"I know, jeez, just come. You can tell whoever you want." 

"I met my medic friend on the way back, she helped me, I'm serious."

"The gambler?"

"Yes. Lost everything to me, then made her help me with this in exchange for her money back."

"Well, that seems reasonable." Naruto remembers the stories Jiraiya used to tell him about his friend, a gambler with no sense of morality and non-existant luck. "You got what you wanted."

"Ha! That's what I offered, son, she took all her money back and then mine in order for her to help me. You know she has, like, no ethics."

"Is that why you got here later than late? I could have died."

Jiraiya squints his eyes, "Come on, you? Dying because someone messed with your seal? A seal made by me and the current master in seals, Minato Uzumaki? I mean, you will die for other reasons, but not because of your seal."

"Dad worries this took more years off my life."

Jiraiya rests his hand on Naruto’s shoulders, "Well, then, I think you will be happy to hear what I have to say."

Jiraiya expects Naruto to ask questions, but he bolts the second after. Jiraiya stares as a dark haired woman appears one second and disappears the other in between Naruto’s arms.

She is pregnant. 

Naruto's wife is pregnant. 

And now Jiraiya feels like he wants to cry. 

Naruto intertwines his wife's arm with his and then walks to Jiraiya. Slow, careful, with a beam Jiraiya has never seen before. 

"Jiraiya," Naruto presents, pride in his voice, "My wife, Hinata."

The child looks at him with blushing cheeks. One hand grasps tightly the clothes around Naruto's arm, the other rests at her abdomen, where her stomach bulges. She stutters and she presents herself, and her eyes shine the moment they return to Naruto. 

"She is pregnant," Naruto shares, "five months and a half." His hand rests over hers now and Jiraiya has to bite down the tremble in his voice. 

It is always in moments like this that he wishes he could do more for his godson. 

[fabelyn]

Equivalent Exchange

Pairing: Childe/Zhongli (chili)

Rated: T for language Warnings: spoilers for 1.1 update story Chapter: Oneshot Chapter Word Count: 2525

Link to AO3

Summary: Some would see Zhongli’s penniless state as the most pathetic oversight.

Childe sees it as an opportunity.

And maybe that’s what Zhongli is hoping for.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Childe lies easily, having tracked his target to this location. “May I sit with you?”

He stands beside Zhongli, and is disappointed when he shows no visible reaction to finding him so close after they’d parted with no contact.

The tea table Zhongli sits on is clearly made for one, yet that doesn’t deter him from nodding and making a welcoming motion, and Childe pulls up a chair. The table is small enough that their knees are almost touching beneath it.

“I apologize, I did not realize I would have company and only ordered for myself,” Zhongli motions the leftover tea.

“I see you’re still keeping the finest of taste.”

“Shall I order more for you?”

“Hm, no it’s fine, for now.”

Zhongli smiles. “This is nice, I don't think we’ve sat down to talk since you introduced me to the Traveller.”

So, not beating around the bush too much . “Hm. We were all so busy with the…funeral arrangements.” He chuckled, and Zhongli joined in. Childe let the levity rest between them for a moment before sobering the conversation somewhat. “And I was unaware if you wanted another meal… after.”

Zhongli raises one perfect eyebrow as if completely baffled. “Now, why would that be?”

Childe couldn’t detect sarcasm in the question so he just nods. “True, you certainly did achieve success in your endeavors, so I suppose you aren’t angry with me, at the very least.”

“You sound as if your goal wasn’t reached.”

Childe shrugged. “It was, since the Tsarista was satisfied, although there was… a surprising development along the way.” I did not think I was so stupid as to be interested in the target I was using.

“Surprising development,” Zhongli quoted slowly, then smiled. “Yes, you could say I too had some of that.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

Childe waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. He shrugged, it was only fair.

“Alright, so neither of us failed. But now we no longer have need of each other. I did not think you had further interest in keeping up a sham relationship, Rex Lapis .”

Zhongli stared at him, then smiled thinly. His mannerisms were still as gentle as Childe recalled, but the look in his eyes were much sharper than before.

“A sham? And yet, you’ve come.”

“You all but called for me. I got curious.”

“Did I? I do not recall doing such a thing, as pleasant as your current company may be.”

“You told the Traveller that you, Morax , had forgotten to plan for having mora a your disposal after your defection from your Archon duties, and they mentioned such a ridictulous thing to me. And it seems others have heard a similar tale of woe from you, I not in so many words.”

“Signaling that I find myself without monetary recourse may mean I require assistance here and there, but not that you must come assist me.”

“And maybe I did not come to offer aid, much less friendship, but to simply laugh at your predicament.”

“Did you?”

“Hm, do you really have no Mora? I find it truly hard to believe that after that amusing plot you tricked me into, and successfully making a deal with the Tsarista, that you would truly not have thought such a thing through. Not to mention, your alias as Zhongli did have a job at the Funeral Parlor. A detail I cannot simply forget given that is how you roped me into contacting you before.” Childe smiles brightly.

Zhongli remains unmoved. “Perhaps after so much time as the Archon, the concept of needing currency to live had become a detail beneath me and I did not factor it.”

“Is that so?”

They stare at each other, a standoff where neither wants to be the first to cede. Childe resists the urge to laugh: it is fun to try the patience of an Archon, yet it is also so unbearably frustrating, perhaps he will lose on-

“I am not in as dire straits as I may have…. accidentally appeared to the Traveller and others.”

Childe blinks in surprise; he had not expected Zhongli to concede so quickly. Or for it not feel like he had won. 

“As you surmised earlier,” Zhongli went on, “my employment at the Funeral Parlor could always be taken up again.”

“And yet, you haven’t done so.”

“Indeed.” Zhongli drums his long fingers on the table. “Retirement does not feel right if I am simply taken up another task. Perhaps if it were something enjoyable...”

Childe is getting impatient. “Is getting on your knees enjoyable?” He asks, wondering if the language was too crude for the likes of Rex Lapis to understand.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, Childe decides to explain.

“The two women who helped pay for you this week, surely you have not become so old as to not understand what they were asking for as gratitude?”

Zhongli’s reply is completely out of Childe’s expectation.

“Why do you assume I would be on my knees?” He asks simply, and, before Childe can recover from that, continues. “And why does that interest you? Is that what you’d ask as payment for helping me now? Oh, pardon me, you implied you only came to laugh at my predicament, not help.”

Childe can simply agree and excuse himself. End this and leave. But if he had wanted nothing, he wouldn’t have come in the first place.

“Did I imply that? I think you misunderstood. I did come to help you after all. Although, naturally, I should have some equivalent compensation, especially since, from my understanding, this monetary aid would prolong itself as you have no interest in getting a job any time soon.”

Zhongli’s perfect poise slips a little, almost as if his shoulders have sagged in relief.

For the first time in… possibly, ever, Childe feels a twinge of what may be guilt. Spurned by Zhongli’s surprising candor, he decides it might be best, afterall, to not trick the... man... further.

“Rex Lapis, Zhongli, I’m not sure you realize who you’re after.”

“Childe, Tartaglia , a Harbinger from Snezhnaya, correct?”

Childe’s fingers twitch at the name coming from Zhongli’s lips. “Our previous camaraderie was all but manufactured so I could attain my results. Had my Tsarista not demanded subtlety and diplomacy, I wouldn’t have sought out the Funeral Parlor, and simply brought pandemonium to Liyue from the get go. I’m not the affable young lordling I acted as. Even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. I attacked the Traveller, I nearly brought destruction to Liyue, and I regret nor apologize for either. The precious friend you made before, he doesn’t exist.

“However, in acknowledgement of our good… ah… companionship thus far, I suggest you reconsider, and leave.”

It’s actually insane that, after everything, he came to Zhongli to simply allow him to leave when the man had all but tactidly said he’d sell his body to Childe. 

But from the moment he had sat so near Zhongli he realized he could no longer wear a mask, not for this. He could not see himself starting anything with the man while not being himself.

And he knows he won’t bear rejection well if their acquaintanceship goes further.

Zhongli stares at him, then begins chuckling.

“Oh, it seems I came here not to laugh at you, but to be laughed at.”

“Pardon my manners, but really, I never expected such silly words from you.”

“Silly?”

“Hm, yes. Let’s see. First of all, the cute persona-”

“...Cute?”

“-You crafted as Childe here in Liyue, while it may have been a performance sufficient enough to trick mere mortals, was hardly that convincing to me. I could see the look in your eyes even as you smiled. I never expected you to be a gentle soul. And as for what you tried to unleash, your glee towards it all, and your lack of remorse now… I see it all, I have lost my gnosis not my eyes. Childe, Tartaglia, whatever name you give yourself, I am pursuing you, not your disguise.”

Zhongli raises a hand as if to stop Childe from interrupting. Childe, however, had no such plans.

“That said, underestimating my observational skills is not enough to make me laugh. What dumbfounds me, yet touches me at the same time, is that you just said you’ll allow me to leave, and I think you mean truly meant that.”

“What about that?”

“Were you aware that I was offered a bonus for my willing compliance towards my end of the bargain?”

Childe blinks. He had not, and shakes his head, confused at the sudden turn.

“Very well. it so happened that this boon would have been to… interestingly enough… deny a request you had made, just after everything was over. I refused it, naturally, else you would not be here.”

Childe stiffens, and Zhongli’s smile widens.

“As you said, even the youngest Harbinger is still a Harbinger. It is unthinkable that they would waste one of their most precious resources staying in Liyue and not going elsewhere to further your Tsarista’s objective. It would be quite the demotion, your staying here, if not for the fact you requested it.”

Childe tries to laugh it off. “I-”

“Pardon me, but I’m not done. Of course, as strange as it is, there are maybe some reasons for it. Spying on the Qixing and the nearby Mondstat. Planning or organizing a future invasion. Certainly there are excuses that could be sufficient enough to make it seem that you truly had no other motive to stay here, other than to serve.”

“Precisely, so-”

“Still not done,” Zhongli says, voice a little deeper, stricter, and Childe finds himself shutting his mouth in too much excited obedience at the tone. Zhongli pauses, as if gauging Childe’s reaction, but then continues. “I waited to see if you would come to reacquaint ourselves, for the sake of your new task. You did not. So I may have made comments to the Traveller and others mentioning a monetary predicament, to see if you would come then. You still did not. However… two interesting things happened, do you know what they are?”

Childe just stares. Surely Zhongli doesn’t know-

“The first kind lady that offered mora in exchange for ah… in your words “me on my knees” was sadly caught in bed by her husband with another man.”

Oh Tsarista, Zhongli knows.

“The other one… a fire consumed parts of her home -a candle gone wrong, such a normal thing- and while she is fine and not in any trouble, she no longer can afford to spend money on others, at least not for a while.”

At Childe’s continued silence, Zhongli leans forward, reaches across the table and tucks an errant lock of hair behind Childe’s ear.

It takes all of Childe’s restraint not to lift his hand to where he was touched.

“Perhaps a gentler, humbler, soul than I would simply assume coincidence. But I am not that humble, and I recall the look in your eyes. So it amuses me that here and now, you offer me freedom from you, yet you’ve been quite keen to stay near and ruin any chances I may have of leaning on other people. You claim I don’t know what I want, but it seems to me you are the one unsure.”

Childe opens his mouth, closes it, then throws caution to the wind. “Being willful is my forte,” he says with a small laugh to be master of himself again. “I didn’t like where that was going, so I cut it short with those women. But I’ve concluded I don’t want to live more of a farce than I already do, so I don’t want anything with you where I have to pretend to be, well, not me.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

And Childe truly believes it. And because he does, he says something he had never expected to.

“But you know, paying for your lifestyle for an indefinite amount of time will be too costly. Make I should demand your heart along with your body?”

It’s cheesy but it does the trick. Finally it seems he has managed to disconcert Zhongli, who clearly had not expected Childe to say something so outrageous. Childe laughs, because he hadn’t expected it either.

Zhongli recovers spectacularly fast. “Well now, I think the grace of having the former Geo Archon’s body at your command is recompense enough.”

“Oho, so now you abruptly understand the value of money?”

“No such thing, it’s just that even someone so out of tune as I can tell this transaction of yours is too one sided.”

“So, after all of…” Childe waves at the table between them, “whatever this conversation was, is that where we stop? Your body and nothing else?”

Well, not that Childe, who had been bracing for less than that, wasn’t happy , he simply wasn’t satiated.

“Hm… I never said that. I simply don’t believe mora is sufficient.”

The electricity that’s coursing through him almost feels like Childe had accidentally ignited his Delusion. He tries not to shiver and remain composed. “Fair enough. Then, oh mighty Rex Lapis, what price would you place on your heart?”

Maybe this had all been another carefully crafted ploy by the Archon, and he was planning to entice Childe into obedience, or reveal Snezhaya’s secrets-

“Hm, I believe this sort of transaction can only be done if the same thing is exchanged in return.”

Childe blinks. 

Oh. 

He really should have seen that one coming, shouldn't he?

He can simply lie. But he won’t.

Hesitant for the first time, he looks down at the empty cup between them, and reaches out to play with it. “... That would be tricky. I don’t know if my… if what I have to offer has the same value of yours.” And because he really can’t seem to stop running his mouth today, he dares add. “It might even be more than yours. Or. Or maybe less, of course.”

Zhongli’s hand reaches out lightning fast to hold his own over the table.

“I highly doubt that,” he says softly. “However, we can put that part of the deal on hold for now and discuss the, ah, terms and values at a later time. Unless this needs to be a package for you?”

Childe snorts, no longer discomfited, but finds himself turning his hand to properly hold Zhongli’s. “Oh please, what kind of fool would throw away this deal? Alright, so according to our deal, you’re mine-”

“My body, for now. Don’t try to trick the God of Contracts so brazenly.”

“I am brazen, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But fine. And in turn I am your walking wallet.”

“Are you not going to put a limit to how much I can demand from you?”

“Are you?”

“I can handle anything.”

“So long as you can, my wallet will handle your demands. And. I don’t see my tasks here in Liyue ending anytime soon, so we can discuss the rest later.”

“We have a contract, then. Ah, could you kindly start by dealing with this meal?”

“Certainly, but you’re following me tonight.”

*

*

*

Notes:

I did this in a feverish state after the new storyline dropped (this was posted to ao3 yesterday), so apologies if it's not that good. I did consider trying to extend it a bit so it did not feel too fast, but the last time I tried doing a "long oneshot" things, ah, backfired into a massive WIP and I did not want that again.

I hope it wasn't too bad. I've never written for this fandom before, so I don't know if I got them down correctly. My main concern was Childe, who to me comes of as slightly sadistic and I could see him being the possessive sort, if he ever came to care about anything. Plus he is unrepetant in his crimes.

[sirensmojo]

“Remember The Missing” - Ivar The Boneless x Reader x Ubbe

Summary: You're sent to Kattegat by your uncle for settling a deal with King Ragnar. No need to mention as soon as your feet touch the dry ground, it's the Ragnarsons' eyes you caught.

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless x Reader x Ubbe (but All the Ragnarsons make an appearance)

Warnings: fluff, light smut, angst at the end

Word Count: 3,394

*Masterlist*

The brothers didn't have the same taste when it comes to women. Whenas Ivar and Sigurd fell for thralls, Hvitserk for simple woman, Ubbe for athletic shieldmaiden, when you dropped off the boat, their mouth surely dropped too. That's the first thing that caught your eyes, four tall men, dressed in fur, clean and braided hair with eyes as blue as the sky. Those piercing eyes were pointed right at you, although you were quite used to being stared at. From your tamed hair falling perfectly around your face shape, highlighting your complexion to your reddened cheeks from the cold that underlined Y/C eyes, making your pupils scintillate, every detail seemed to mesmerize them.

Once out of the boat, you readjusted your large and dark cloak that didn't allow the Vikings to check up on your body features but they'd bet their life everything about it was perfect. Your eyes sweep the areas without dawdling on things, as you found out what you looked for. You started to walk towards them, each of your step arousing their desire deep into their core, and stopped in front of them.

"King Ragnar, I surmise," your soothing voice purred in their ears like honey. You held your hand to the man and instead of shaking it, he pecks your fingers.  You slightly raised your brows but didn't make any comments.

You soon noticed the stares still on you and glanced at the men standing beside the King, tilting your head to the side in curiosity, the rumors were true. Men of the North were, indeed, handsome. Their features, the care accorded to their looks, even your nostrils betrayed you, as they curled up a little, their spicy wooded smell fondling your nose. "Here are my sons, from right to left: Ivar The Boneless, Hvitserk, Sigurd Snake In The Eye, and Ubbe." The bearded men spoke, lifting the veil on the identity of your seemingly new fans. You didn't miss how the four pairs of eyes have been devouring you but chose to ignore it for the sake of the alliance. Thus your clenched jaws indicated your displeasure.You had quite a temper, that was the exact reason why you were the one sent by your uncle. He tried many times to tame your ways... In vain. Although you promised him this time, you'll behave on behalf of everything he has done for you since the death of your late mother.

"I'm Y/n Of Stilfhel, pleasure is mine." You quickly bowed, gripping onto your dress for it not to meet the soil. The ragnarsons remained silent, not that you expected something else from them, seeing how focused they were to ogle you. You knew better. Everywhere you walked, people would stare at you, In your own kingdom it was because of your status, or so you'd like to believe. In foreign countries, you accepted it was because, for some reason, men found you pleasurable to look at. No need to mention that whenever you'd open your mouth, they would instantly lose interest in you, for you sounded nothing like a princess. When it wasn't you cursing, the problem was the topics on which you conversed. War, fights, battles, swords, economics, trading.

No men of your homeland needed or wanted a woman that had an opinion of everything.

But you were no princess, indeed, your uncle took you as his own daughter at the request of your mother back on her deathbed. This was her last wish, and your uncle being a good man led to you living in the palace without having the weight of duties on your shoulders. Maybe you grew too comfortable, thought your uncle at first, but he soon enough found out it was only you being you.

***

Once installed in the Great Hall, you take off your cloak and give it to the thrall waiting for it, exposing a beautiful azure dress made out of thick fabric. A single thin leather belt tightened it at your waist, revealing your curved hips and generous chest. Your sober dress didn't need any jewels or extravagance as your own body was already doing the job. An abnormal cut departing from your thighs down to your ankles betrayed your cover of "naive princess". If only they knew under that dress was hidden tones of small weapons, that thought making you smile. The man sat right in front of you did not miss any of your lips curling up as you brushed down your hands on the side of your dress, trying to hide the cut you made.

Traveling in that get-up was far from comfortable, you had to do something, right?

You thank the thrall with a small smile and finally sat down. "Is everything alright?" Asked Ragnar at the sight of your grimace. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah, of course. Everything's fine, my King" you succeed at answering. Glancing quickly around the table you slide your hands under your dress and straightens both your legs, trying to grab the hilt of your swords that buried itself into your ribs. When Hvitserk and Ivar abruptly turned their head towards you, both confused and satisfied, you firstly ignore them, but as your fingers finally grip onto your sword, their stare only grew more ravenous. At this exact instant, you understood what was happening, you were playing footsie with both of them. Your left foot caressing the inside thigh of Hvitserk whereas your right one got dangerously close of Ivar's core. A nervous rictus drew on your lips as you thought of something to get out this situation. You completely slump on the table to bridge the gap between your palm and the handle of your sword. Once you got it, you slowly push it out the piece of leather holding it and slide her against your bare skin before placing her on the ground. You fold your feet back to their initial position. Ivar was still looking at you, lips slightly parted with astonishment and desire twinkling in his eyes whereas Hvitserk's look was less shy in demonstration of what was going on in his mind.

"I've heard tones of stories about you Y/n," Ragnar let out as he motioned to a thrall to fill your cup with ale. Your eyes dawdled on the cup, as you kept your bottom lips in between your teeth. "Of me?" You faint not to know what he was talking about. "How so?" You added, your eyes still fixed on the liquid purring down in the container. If you start drinking now, you'll still be there in the morning, completely drunk but still wanting more ale. You will not be able to control yourself anymore, and the pretty princess will be gone."That you'd never been beaten by ale," The king continues with a defying tone. "Oh yeah? You're sure it's about me?" You raised a brow at him, glancing at the people around the table. You'd be ready to receive ugly stares by now, but they didn't come, to your surprise. Usually, as soon as someone used to put that subject on the table when with your uncle, grimaces could be seen on the surrounding faces while murmurs could be heard. 

Here, stares were fixed on you, but without any grimaces nor disgusted sounds. The men around the table were quite intrigued, maybe they didn't know what their father spoke about. You grabbed the cup hungrily, some of its content escaping the cup to drop on the oak table. You sipped a mouthful of liquor, squinting your eyes at the feelings of the liquid spreading into your body.

"Y/n Of Stilfhel, there's only one, isn't it?" Ragnar bantered as you finished your cup sooner said than done. You glanced at the thrall standing near the doors and motioned her to come. Once she presented herself before you, you carefully took off her hands the carafe and spill some more liquid into your cup. "So you heard about my superpower," you nonchalantly replied. "You must've traveled a lot to have found out. I've never put my feet on that ground before." You pointed the spot with your cup. "I have, but let's not dawdle on my idle stories, please tell us more about your presence here." "It is said, the agreement you share with my uncle must be sealed someway," Hearing your words, the heart of the men surrounding you fluttered. The first thing they thought about when hearing "sealing"  was marriage. Of course, it was. Why else letting a princess journey by herself to a foreign country?

They glanced at their father, then at you. Soon their eyes flickered from on to another's face. It was to who will seduce you first. You were a challenge atop of being a mystery. 

***

Ubbe leaned in your ear and murmured a joke about Sigurd, which make you choked on your drink. You glanced at the poor target of the man sitting beside you and shook your head both sides giggling. He instantly scowled at his brother, wondering what he could've said. Minutes passed before Hvitserk dared to approach you, he tried to be subtle but, hard luck for him, you weren't that naive. He fainted to join your side of the table to serve himself some more ale, glancing at you here and there. This whole scene made you laugh but you tried to muffle it, as you didn't want to lose all the fun. "Is the ale good?" He tried. "I don't know, you tell me," you raised your brows, as he neared his cups to his lips. He chuckled as he sips some of his drink. "How is that you're never drunk?" "Gods, believe me, I am, most of the time, but I can stand still, even play strategic games!" You heartedly let out as you leaned toward him. "Yeah? We should test that then, I'll wait right in my seat for you to come when you'll be very drunk," he winces at you as he got up from the chair beside you. "Count on it," you flirted back with a soft voice. You attentively followed his moves until some lips encountered your ear. Ubbe, this man really wasn't afraid of anything, his extreme proximity surprisingly warmed you up. Even if wasn't winter yet, the nights were cold, your skin being very sensitive did not help.

"I bet a night with you he'll be sleepy drunk in exactly 4 more cups," the man mutters in your neck, as a shiver spread from your back to your arms. Gods only know how, but he noticed it, looking down and grabbing your hands in his. "Bet held," you exhaled, trying to get away from his grip, but he didn't let go. Your eyes go to both his hands squeezing yours to his face. You didn't realize how close he was, only few inches away. If he turned his head to you at this precise moment, your lips would practically touch. The warmth emanating from his fondles spread to both your arm before dangerously nearing your guts, the center of your aroused desire. Now that he was so close, you noticed the straightness of his jaw, the plumpness of his lips, and how soft his skin seemed to be. When he turned his face, you managed to slip your hands out his grip and move your head backward, a nervous laugh escaping your gritted teeth. He was more than enticing, no doubt.

But you didn't come for that...

Speaking of your duty, your brows knitted as your eyes were searching the place for Ragnar. He wasn't there anymore. "Told you," Ubbe chuckled pointing out his little brother Hvitserk, face down to the table. "Yeah, he seems a bit dead, but I guess he's okay. At least, I hope," you grimaced, tilting your head. You needed to get some fresh air, some hours ago you were in a boat, almost alone, only with a few guards that your uncle forced you to bring and now you were surrendered by a bunch of handsome men. You excused yourself to Ubbe and walk perfectly fine to the doors. The man slid his head to the side, his mouth forming an "o", as he watched you walk away. He was more looking at your body than anything, your curves bouncing from a foot to the other. Once out, you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes a few seconds. "A bit overwhelmed?" you heard a voice, knocking you out the bubble you were in. "I'm not going to lie," you admitted, looking down. "I see you can stand as straight as if no ale oozed in your system. So it was what my father was talking about," "I know you can do better than that." You cut him off, making Ivar turns his head to yours, while you were looking faraway before you. "Huh?" He pondered, still gazing at you. "I love to talk about battles and war. Not about me being okay with drinking ten dozens of cups of ale," you confessed. "Than I wondered what you were talking about with my brother," he bluntly let out, shrugging. "He's got some move" you tried to convince him. He perfectly understood you were talking about Ubbe's ability to seduce women and riposted as soon as your words left your throat. He certainly knew what he was talking about. "Oh, I don't doubt that. I only thought you wouldn't let yourself be trapped in it," "I'm not," "So why you got out?" "I--I..." you stuttered, without being able to invent anything. Perhaps the ale was starting to get to your head.

"My name's Ivar, not 'I--I'," he mimicked your pout and voice. You hassled to chuckle and nudged him. "Stilfhel is an interesting name," Ivar let out, loudly breathing out. "As interesting as Y/n?" You gauge his reaction with a small smile at the corner of your lips. "See, you are flirty with me now,"

"Arrrgh, you're too quick for me," you faked being offended. "I bet you knew the way of sealing the alliance between both our lands have nothing to do with marriage." He nodded to himself, slowly understanding your games. "True, but I couldn't restrain myself to play a little with the minds of your brothers..." You paused, closely looking at the Viking. A genuine smile brightened your face, your eyes crinkled. "I'm glad it didn't get on you,"

"Sigurd didn't try anything,"

"Because he saw Hvisterk kind off failing," You tilted your head to him, only to encounter his eyes. They were as blue as your dress. You soon drown into them as he didn't move his stare. "Ivar The Boneless, right?" "Hmm," he agreed, clearing his throat. "I'll remember it," you mutter for yourself.

***

You tried to remember the words of the thrall when you asked her about the chamber of the Prince. You were drunk, the ale was deeply rooted in your system, but that doesn't stop you from walking through the corridors before you opened a door. "Y/n? Wha--t" "Shhh", you responded as you got closer the bed. You finally crawled into it, dangerously getting nearer the man. As you approached, Ubbe leaned his back on his pillows, intently watching your gestures. You finally got on top of him, leaning onto his chest, your lips dropping feverish kisses on his lower belly. His eyes didn't leave yours, he was concentrated in the twinkle in your eyes as if he looked away, you'll vanish in a cloud of smoke. You slowly started to kiss your way up to his neck, which you bite before playing with his skin in between your teeth. His silent groans directly reached your ears making your desire for him grew stronger each time his hoarse voice resonated in your head.  When you straddled him, after benching up your dress to your hips, he exhaled deeply, relieved the space between you has been filled. His hands ceased your hips, slowly sliding to your ass as he nuzzled his way to your face, making you look at him. Your mouth was open, your eyes getting lost together. "You're so beautiful," he slurred, incapable of letting go of your stare. "You're even more," you offered him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.  He swiftly crashed his lips on yours, making moan. He kneaded your skin with so much strength, you were sure to found bruises wherever he touched later.  You ground down on him, feeling his growing bump right in between your tighs, where you were already ready for him.

***

After you make out, Ubbe directly fell asleep, you didn't know if it was because of your little sport session or the alcohol. Whatever, you weren't asleep, unlike you. It wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more than sex. You planned on going back to your room, but instead, you stopped before another door, his door. You remember the blue of his eyes, his expression when you were face to face around the table earlier, and the way he articulated your name: with such harmony and softness. You pushed open the door, entering a total black room, "Ivar?" you ask loudly, making sure the door was closed behind you before asking for him.  At first, you were welcomed by a silence, but as your eyes got used to the darkness, you could glimpse of two light sparkles turned right at you. "I--hum..." you couldn't find the right words, how did you find yourself so nervous when not even an hour ago you were entering Ubbe's chamber so confidently? "Can I stay with you?" your voice echoed in the room as if it was empty. Still no response. You moved forward the bed, aiming at the opposite side of where you glimpsed the scintillating eyes. "I take that as a yes," you continued to talk, even if he didn't want you or even talk to you, you couldn't help but feel the need to be in his company again. "I'm coming under the furs, alright? Welcome me there." you encouraged him. "You lied," he finally spoke. You were shifting your body inside of the shits, under the furs when you stopped in track. Did he recognize you? "Earlier you said you never put a foot down this soil, you lied," he finished, quite bluntly.

You wanted to speak but the saliva in your mouth was too thick, even making it hard to swallow. You gave-up your chance to give him an explanation. 

"I knew I already saw your face before, not too long ago actually. You left me waiting for something that would've never happened," his tone was firm but not angry. "Why?" His voice broke to silence. "I knew I wasn't staying for long, I didn't want you to wait for me. You were supposed to forget me, Ivar..." You murmured, without trying to justify yourself. "How could I forget what I gave you, what we shared?" "I don't know," you allowed."Me neither, but still you lied to me back then, about your name, your status, everything!"

"I didn't lie when I came sneaking close to your body every night. I didn't lie when we were meeting in secret in the woods to look at the sunsets and lying on our back watching the forms of the clouds," you lowly let out as you got closer to his chest. Your palm patted his torso before going up to his cheek. Now you're holding his face so his eyes stick with yours, unable to escape from your hold, just like you used to two years ago. "When my uncle asked for a messenger I volunteered," you started to be swoon. His ablaze stare would kill you right now if they could. Instead, Ivar lifted his rough and huge hand to your face, wiping away the few tears that have filled up your eyes. "I wanted to see you again, feel you again..." you added as he pulled your head toward his bare chest. Your eyes closed, and your mind eased in less than a minute, soothed by the rhythm of the Viking's heartbeats. 

"Don't leave," he managed to articulate despite the nervousness inhabiting him at this instant. His arms closed around your weak body as he held you tightly against him, to your greatest pleasure.

Ivar Permanent Tag: @youbloodymadgenius​

[danideservedbetter]

Day 7, 8, 9, and 10 / Elaboration

Hey y’all! I said yesterday I would elaborate a little more on what my doctor’s visit yesterday told me, and here I am to do just that! I meant to yesterday, honestly, but by the time I got home my medicine had worn off and that wasn’t looking very likely 😅😅 But regardless!!! Here is what my results look like and honestly? These things probably have been affecting my sleeping disorder to a degree I’d previously disregarded without detailed info I’ve gotten from these tests.

Full write up under the cut!

—I got two major tests done, blood work and a genetics test. Back in my hometown the nurses couldn’t even figure out how to open the damn swab, but technology here managed to map out my entire DNA sequence which is utterly NUTS to me.

—My body is deficient in almost every important vitamin known to mankind, which makes sense because my diet is not… the best 😅 So, I started on several (SEVERAL) supplements to start out.

—I say start out because it’s very likely that I’ll be taking vitamin C and some liver enzyme through an IV once a month. A younger me might’ve thought something like this was scary, but at this point I’m so desperate to be healthy that getting nutrients drip fed into my system for them to work quicker sounds just fine to me.

—Other than that it’s normal lifestyle stuff. Eat more fruits and vegetables (I’ve been eating olives by the can for like days and I intend to buy fresh fruit packets for breakfast whenever I can afford them) as well as staying more active— which I DEFINITELY have been since I moved closer to New Orleans, in Louisiana proper where my dad lives.

But enough of the boring medicinal stuff. I’m sure you guys are much more interested in the whys— is there a reason my hypersomnia is so bad? Is there a deeper explanation than “lack of vitamins bad and you should feel bad”?

Well, yeah. YES. The genetics test revealed a metric fuckton to say the least 😂😂😂 but the most important was what kinds of diseases I’m predisposed to or how my body can process certain types of hormones/enzymes/proteins. Things like why caffeine won’t work for me (my body processes it very fast but not very thoroughly) or my metabolism being the strongest recorded genotype (which is why it’s been so hard to gain weight). Below, I’ll go into detail about stuff my new general doctor’s in-office geneticist (I still can’t believe that’s a thing I’m typing) has revealed about my disorder.

Naturally, this is specific to me because of my parents and our family lines. Maybe if you see info pertinent to yourself, looking into genetic mapping may be a good idea for you?

We are pretty confident that I have Idiopathic Hypersomnia. The reason for this is that a tiny link has been found between individuals who contracted mononucleosis in their childhood and adolescence and individuals who fell within the sleep cycles indicating IH. Now, IH will be genetic sometimes, but considering I’ve tracked my disorder to starting around 14, the same year I contracted Mono, the coincidence definitely doesn’t seem like… well, a coincidence. My blood test shows that I do in fact have the antibodies in my system, and they’re doing something… odd.

The geneticist found some “active” antibodies. Well, not some, really 😅 Basically, she’s surmised that these antibodies have a hair-trigger response and can react to any given environmental factor (stress, hunger, etc.) to the point where they activate as if they think they’re **fighting off a virus that’s been out of my system for ten years.** Of course this takes up an inordinate amount of energy, which is her hypothesis as to why my hypersomnia is so random and varies in intensity. The goal for this summer is flushing these antibodies out of my system.

My previous neurologist tried out a couple stimulants and then shit insurance prevented me from trying any others. So I’m stuck on something traditionally prescribed for adhd. A narcotic. *However* since my body is severely dysfunctional in general, the way I describe it is I basically have to induce a high to stay awake and function normally. We want to eventually get me off of these kinds of drugs, of course, since prolonged exposure weakens their effects and they’re highly addictive.

Another in credibly interesting thing we found is that I'm lacking in three major hormones. However, it's not because I don't produce them. I've never identified with symptoms of depression (anxiety, certainly, but not depression) yet for most of my life my childhood general practitioner insisted I had it. Well, the geneticist found that while I'm lacking in serotonin, dopamine, and melatonin, which yes are the two major mood enhancers and then the hormone that induces sleep, it's not because I can't produce them. It's because my neural transmitters are so damaged from a less-than-good diet and years of exhaustion that they simply can't process them. Just as the antibodies can have a hair-trigger response to environmental factors, so too can these processors. Simple things like a good meal, my high from my stimulants, or even micro dopamine shots from getting things done can activate the transmitters. Another thing on the docket for the summer is fixing these permanently with treatments of vitamins and supplements.

My stimulants have caused appetite issues, unfortunately, and that plus Covid at the beginning of this year caused me to get down to my lowest recorded weight ever, 94 pounds, which I haven't weighed since before I hit my final growth spurt way back in middle school. My dad does physical labor (he's a contractor who frames houses in the humid heat of the Deep South lol) so he's used to feeling tired. When he caught Covid, he said that he'd never felt as tired, drained, or out of it in his entire life. He never gets sick and hardly goes to the doctor and NEVER takes off work because of health, but in his last few weeks before full recovery he had to take off early multiple times. He was floored when he described the brain fog and exhaustion and I told him that I had no idea I even had Covid, because I just thought it was my disorder acting up. It was only when my grandmother started feeling tired that we got tested and we tested positive.

All that said, we think that there's hope for a future for me. She said that while there's no cure for IH, the cause that I have may can be mitigated by changes in exercise, diet, routine, and medication,to the point where I may mitigate symptoms of my disorder entirely. I'm still setting up appointments with a new neurologist here in the city, though, because technology is of course more advanced here.

And again, taking all of this into consideration, while it was looking likelier by the day, we've both agreed that I'll be here in the city 'til New Years. Which means no school this semester, but if I can go back in spring at more than 20% functionality and maybe succeed, I'm perfectly fine having to remain on break.

However, another good update: I weigh 103 pounds! I'm steadily gaining weight-- which means the other medication, the one for my appetite, is working as it should and as long as I stay on-track I should reach my goal of 120 by the end of the year as well.

So, yeah! That's what it's looking like. I have another appointment to go more in depth with the results tomorrow, but for now I'm planning out my week since I decided to let myself rest all last week. I'd love to finish helping out for our current podfic, ACTUALLY start the damn 100 Theme Challenge (LOL), finish betaing something that's been on hold for months, properly reconnect with our discord, catch up on all the media I fell behind on, clean my damn room, and establish a budget for this week on what I can buy. A more specific plan for today will follow, but til then, I hope this gives everyone some insight on what I'm looking at and how I'm gonna try to fix it.

Xoxo

Dani

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 1 - Silence

I decided to post my LevixReader fic on tumblr from AO3 since I know a lot of people like to read fics here too! If you decide you want to read it on the AO3 platform my username is Shirorinyuaru :)

—

There is something to be said about the deafening silence following death. More than the stench, the morbid visuals, and the stomach-churning fear — There is silence. For Levi, seeing his squad absolutely decimated by the Female Titan was only made that much more difficult by the soundless forest and the painful thrum of his heart as it fought to escape his chest. Petra, Oluo, Eld, Gunther - All casualties of a failed mission and, by Levi’s standards, all pointless deaths. He wasn’t quite sure what hurt him more; was it knowing that it was bound to happen eventually, or the fact that he had been unable to bring their bodies home to their families? For those left behind, there was nothing. The thought made even Humanity’s Strongest Soldier sick.

The day his original Special Ops squad was lost, a part of him went with them. While Levi often kept his emotions tightly locked away in a bottle behind the wall that he had built following the deaths of Farlan and Isabel, he was not heartless. His team - while he would not outwardly admit it - was his family.

He had already lost too many members of his family.

So when you and the other members of the 104th Cadet Corps were brought even deeper into the fold of the Survey Corps, he found himself conflicted. He knew that the war to save humanity was a necessary one. He knew that soldiers died and had to be replaced - he had seen it done for years. However, this time he couldn’t quite quash the emotional turmoil that came with seeing your bright, determined eyes in training, ready for the inevitable trauma to come.

—

When had it started? You often found yourself in Captain Levi’s office at the behest of Commander Erwin, who sent you to aid Levi with his overwhelming load of paperwork and his abhorrent sleeping patterns (if you could even call them that). The arrangement had begun shortly before the expedition to capture the Female Titan. Captain Levi was, unsurprisingly, less-than-enthused with the idea of some new brat from the 104th Cadet Corps suddenly becoming his “personal assistant” - At least, that was what Erwin had insisted he refer to you as. A command coming directly from Erwin could not be ignored, and Levi was well aware of it. So instead of throwing you out on your ass the moment you first walked through the door, he simply replied with an annoyed “tch,” and returned his attention to the overdue paperwork making a mess of his desk.

For the first few days, you simply observed his pre-existing workflow. The blissful quiet and lack of interruptions were music to Levi’s ears, so he let you be. Meanwhile, you diligently memorized when he was most productive in his administrative duties, when and how he took his tea, when the best times to clean up were, and when you should leave him alone. Frankly, your Captain was terrible at remembering to take care of himself - he was so busy taking care of his duties to the Corps. With the information you had surmised, you devised a plan that you were unsure would even work on notoriously stubborn Levi Ackerman. Regardless, you had been given a task by Commander Erwin that you were compelled to complete.

—

1 Week to Expedition

It was uncharacteristically cold out. Rain battered the windows of Levi’s office and the howling wind proved an irritating distraction from the work in front of him. Nevermind that he had to light a fire in the fireplace to keep the damn room warm. Dirt. Dust. Grime. Just the thought of how utterly filthy the room was going to be because of the fucking fire roaring in the fireplace made him shudder.

Well, he mused, I can at least keep Cadet l/n busy with deep cleaning the office. It should keep her out of my hair.

As if on cue, three successive raps on his door pulled him from his reverie. He lifted his head slowly, his piercing grey eyes narrowing on the doorframe. “Name and business,” Levi demanded in his characteristic, monotone drawl.

“Cadet l/n, Captain Levi. I’m reporting for my daily duties. May I enter?” You responded, slightly muffled by the thick oak door and howling of the wind.

“Proceed.” Levi did not wait for you to come in before returning to his paperwork.

He was about to order you to begin cleaning when he picked up on the familiar scent of black tea wafting into the room. Before he could raise his eyes to find the source, he caught sight of a delicate hand placing a cup of steaming liquid on the left side of his workspace. Wordlessly, he looked up toward you with an eyebrow quirked in question.

“It’s not poisoned, Captain. It’s just Earl Grey,” you said, slightly amused by the suspicion Levi was communicating in his expression.

“Yes, but why?”

“Because this is when you normally start craving another cup, and it’s freezing out.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as Levi tried to process what your words meant. She’s more observant than I thought. That could be dangerous.

With an air of hesitation, he picked up the cup and brought it to his lips. The intoxicating scent of bergamot filled his senses as he took a sip. Perfectly prepared. Not many people know how to make a good fucking cup of tea around here. He was impressed, but he wasn’t about to let you know it.

“Not bad, Cadet. At least you can make a half-way decent cup of tea.” Levi uttered, returning to his work. “Maybe now you could make yourself useful and -”

You already knew what he planned to assign you, so you bravely (or stupidly, you weren’t sure just yet) cut him off and save both parties some time.

“Clean the dust and grime building up from the fire? I was already planning on it.” Without another word, you turned to get the cleaning supplies you needed and went to work.

Captain Levi was dumbstruck by the forwardness you had exhibited. If it had been anyone else, he would have given them stable duty for a month. For some reason though, he couldn’t bring himself to be anything but impressed by your ability to take charge. Attractive , Levi mused - not that the closed-off soldier considered acting on such frivolous thoughts. A distraction; that’s all ‘romance’ was.

Unlike the last three days that you had simply sat watching Captain Levi, you were now fully engaged in the tasks set before you by Commander Erwin. It came as a surprise to the normally nonplussed man; you were entirely in tune with his schedule and complimented it with such grace and simplicity that it was as if you were another him. Frankly, it made his work much easier and he was grateful for it.

—

4 Days till Expedition

You could tell Captain Levi was in a mood when he unceremoniously flung the door of his office open, strode to his desk, and practically collapsed into his chair. Instead of asking him about his morning like you were in the habit of doing, you returned to the task of dusting off the shelves closest to the fireplace. The Captain had been dissatisfied with the original job you had done following the day he had to use the blasted fireplace to make sure his ass didn’t freeze off.

Levi was in a mood. Erwin briefed him on the upcoming expedition and plan to capture the Female Titan whom they suspected of having infiltrated the military in some way. He had complete trust in Erwin - he knew the Commander had a reason for hiding the true goal of the expedition from everyone but a select, trusted few. They had a rat - a fucking disgusting rat that needed to be taken care of quickly to ensure the longevity of the Survey Corps.

Before he could dig himself deeper into the negative feedback loop that plagued his mind, you knew you had to intervene. Levi was already a grumpy and insufferable man on a good day; you didn’t want to even broach the idea of what he could be like on a bad day. You already warmed the kettle in preparation for his return and made a blend of chamomile, peppermint, and spearmint to relieve the tension afflicting your superior. Whether willing to admit it or not, you genuinely cared for his well-being - not just because Commander Erwin had assigned you to see to it. It was then you began to wonder when you had started to feel this way.

Quietly, so not to disturb Levi just yet, you made your way over to his desk and gingerly set down his tea. “Careful,” you murmured, turning the handle toward him even though you knew he wouldn’t use it, “it’s a bit hot still, but it should provide you some relief.”

Levi inhaled deeply and carded his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. As he lifted his head, steel-grey eyes met gentle e/c ones and he felt his heart squeeze. You weren’t one to hide behind a wall - Everything you felt and thought was out in the open. Levi admired that about you.

“Thanks.” He murmured before taking a careful sip of the tea. He allowed the fragrance and the comfort of the warm liquid to envelop him. You watched on as his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and found yourself unable to look away. He’s so beautiful. You mused before quietly chastising yourself. That’s your captain. Your superior. Nothing more, nothing less.

You made a move to walk away when a warm hand curled around your wrist, gently stopping you. “Captain?” You called, bemused by the sudden physical contact.

Levi wasn’t entirely sure why he had reached for you at that moment, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to say that could make it less awkward. Instead, he cleared his throat and let go of your wrist. “Nothing, sorry. Thanks for the tea, Brat.”

You smiled to yourself and turned to glance back at him, your h/c hair gently swaying with your turn. “You’re welcome, Captain.”

—

2 Days til Expedition

“Levi,” his monotone voice rang out in the otherwise silent office.

“I’m sorry?” You replied, bemused.

“Drop the honorifics when we’re alone. Levi is just fine.” He muttered, furiously scribbling on a report Erwin had requested be given to him that evening, two fucking weeks before schedule might he add.

“Alright Ca— er — Levi.” You responded dubiously. It was difficult to know what the Captain was thinking, especially when his inscrutable countenance gave so little away.

You knew his personality, his outward presentation, was one that served as a defense much like that of Wall Sina. It protected him in the deepest sense, and you could understand why. What you couldn’t wrap your head around was why he - consciously or not - was letting you behind his walls. It took everything inside of you to not lend that fact to hope for the future.

You are a soldier. You are dedicated to your duty to protect humanity. The Captain is the same and that is exactly how things will remain. This was a thought you had to constantly drill into yourself. It was the only way to keep your blossoming feelings at bay.

Levi wouldn’t admit the way his heart skipped a beat when you said his name. In fact, he refused to acknowledge it entirely. Any feelings he may have towards you - any inkling of admiration, of affection - he would shove them deep within himself just as he had done with everyone and everything else.

“Brat - Don’t you have training to get to? You’re about to go out of the walls for the first time. I’d consider getting extra training time in. Don’t want you to shit your pants the first time you see a titan.” Levi grumbled. I also don’t want you to die - you need to make it back.

“Alright, Cap— Levi. I’ll see you tomorrow. Please make sure to get to bed at a reasonable time. And no more black tea! Stick to camomile. Commander Erwin is going to kill me if I can’t get your sleeping schedule in check.” You called after him before dashing out the door. It seems you were more serious and devoted to your training than he had originally thought.

Though it was hard to ignore the emptiness encompassing his study in your absence. Regardless, he persisted.

—

The days leading up to the expedition were hectic. The formation was changed repeatedly before finally being nailed down, the superior officers were more tense than usual, and the new cadets were practically shaking the entire barracks with their anticipation. Y/N continued her assistant duties to Levi as much as she could, but he was often in meetings or away from the office. Furthermore, he had demanded that she take more time to prepare for what was to come.

—

Expedition Day

“Brat - You’re riding with my Squad.” The way he said it left no room for argument.

“But the Commander has me placed with Mike’s squad. Why the sudden change?” You inquired, eyebrows raised. Something didn’t seem right about this sudden transfer and you wondered if it had to do with an actual need to change the formation or more with the personal concerns of Captain Levi.

“Did I say you could ask questions? Just follow orders.” Levi snapped before grabbing the reins of your horse and guiding yours right next to his. “Stay close, listen to my commands, and don’t get killed. I need another person on my squad to guard Eren.” He certainly hoped that explanation would keep you from asking more questions. I can’t even admit the reason I need you on my squad to myself, how the fuck do you think I could tell you?

“Yes, Captain” was the only response you gave before taking your place in his squad’s formation.

At first, the plans Commander Erwin had set out seemed to be going off without a hitch. Titans were being spotted on the outer edges of the formation, but they were dealt with swiftly by capable soldiers. While the current situation put you somewhat at ease, you resolved to remain alert and aware of your respondings. After all, you had to prepare yourself for the worst.

What you didn’t realize was that the worst was coming at you at an inhumanly fast rate.

Flares from the right flank shot off in what seemed like rapid succession. While that may not have been unusual, the color turned your blood cold.

Black.

“Shit,” Levi hissed, “The right flank has been compromised.”

Trying to remain calm, you surveyed your surroundings. “Your orders, Captain?”

“Eren, fire a black flare” came the response.

“R-Right!” Eren replied, fumbling for his flare gun. It took him a moment, but the flare was sent up without a hitch.

It was soon after that a messenger came to report the Female Titan was headed for the center where Levi’s squad was positioned. In response, he sent Petra to forward the message to their left. “Come back immediately after sending it along!” Levi roared over the galloping of the horses.

“Yes, Captain!” was her swift reply as she shot to the left on her horse. She had always been a demon on horseback - quick, balanced, skilled.

You monitored the situation and noticed that Levi was acting off - he was staring straight ahead. “Captain, shouldn’t we be more aware of our surroundings?” You called, hoping to get him to come to his senses.

“Shut up and follow me, Cadet.” He said evenly, his eyes hardening. “We follow where the flares tell us to go and that’s the end of it.”

Silence overtook the group as each member of the Special Ops squad tried to remain calm as they were led into the thick trees of a forest.

“Captain! We’re being separated from the rest of the formation!” came Eren’s frantic protest.

There was no response from Levi.

“Captain what about the others?!” He tried again, becoming increasingly agitated with each step deeper into the forest.

“Eren, trust in the Captain. Trust in us.” Petra replied in a soothing, but firm tone. “Look ahead. Keep riding.”

“But -”

“Trust us.”

The reassurance didn’t last long. A loud roar shook the trees around the squad and the ground trembled with each step of a titan flying towards them at inhuman speeds. You noticed as several corps members flung themselves from the surrounding trees to intercept the Female Titan, but it was all for naught. Not only was she unphased, she tossed them aside like fodder and crushed them under her. What horrified you the most was her knowledge of the ODM gear that your comrades were using. She used it against them, grabbing for the wires and using their momentum to crush their bodies against the nearby trees. Swallowing thickly, you turned away and picked up the pace.

“Captain, your orders!” Petra called, well aware that the situation was dire.

Deafening silence was the only response.

“CAPTAIN!” Petra pleaded, her eyes boring into the back of his head.

“Petra he isn’t telling us something for a reason! Just follow him - He won’t lead us astray!” You yelled, heart squeezing painfully. Your faith, your life, it was all in Levi’s hands.

You knew he wouldn’t let the flame die.

Eren, however, did not have the faith that the rest of the squad had in Levi. In fact, he was astonished that you would show such dedication to him when right behind you, your comrades were being slaughtered in an attempt to defend him . To defend the squad protecting him. His eyes clouded with confliction before becoming resolute. He lifted his hand to his mouth, prepared to take on the Female Titan himself. He would not let more of his friends die trying to protect him.

“Eren, please! Don’t do it! Captain left that to you as a last resort - we promise we will get through this safely.” Petra’s voice rang through the squad’s formation. The desperation and pain in her words were not lost.

Once again Eren was in conflict.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Levi stopped you.

“If you want to do it, I won’t stop you.” came his solemn reply. “I don’t pretend to know the right answer to everything. Make the choice that you feel you won’t regret.”

Once again you felt your chest tighten, unsure if it was from the anxiety brought by the situation or by the muted self-disgust behind Levi’s words. You couldn’t look at Eren. You couldn’t look at anyone. Instead, you stared straight ahead, focusing your thoughts on completing the assignment set before you.

Eren let out a yell of frustration before returning both hands to the reigns of his horse and relief flooded the squad.

“We’re almost there.” Levi murmured, mostly to himself. “Just a little longer.”

His words were like a prayer - one that you also sent into the world.

—

Before long, you ran across a mass of soldiers on each side of the road with large contraptions at the ready. While you were unsure of their purpose, you caught a glimpse of Hange’s determined face in the trees. Whatever they were, you knew they could be deadly.

The Female Titan was close by as Levi’s squad passed the traps, and once you were safely out of range you heard Hange’s order ring clearly through the forest.

“FIRE.”

The sound of traps being sprung, skin and muscle being torn apart, and yells of anguish reached your ears. You whipped your head around furiously and found that the Female Titan had been pierced by what looked like steel spikes connected to sturdy, metal ropes.

Eren had been bait. You wanted to vomit.

—

Levi had unceremoniously left you all in the command of Eld before returning to assist with the capture of the Female Titan.

“Tie up the horses somewhere safe, rest, and wait for my signal.” Were his only words before flying through the trees.

The rest was more than welcome, but the reality of what had occurred was now heavy on the shoulders of all of you. Your throat felt thick and swallowing did nothing to relieve the discomfort. Eren had been bait. The entire squad was used to capture that abnormal and in the process, you all could have died.

But you didn’t.

Petra, Eld, Oluo, Gunther, Eren, and you all discussed the revelation in depth. While hurt that you had not been told the specifics of the operation, you each realized that it was probably for the best. There was most likely a spy among the Survey Corps, and this was the best way to ensure the expedition succeeded. Now that the Female Titan was in custody, the Survey Corps could learn far more about what Titans were and how they functioned.

After what seemed like an eternity, Petra noticed a flare being shot off.

“Must be Captain Levi’s signal to meet. Let’s go.” Oluo grunted before mounting his horse.

—

You rode in relative silence, all grateful that the hard part was over and you could return to the safety behind Wall Rose.

You really shouldn’t have counted yourselves safe before the gates closed behind you. It was Gunther who noticed a suspicious individual soaring through the trees above you all, donning the Survey Corps uniform.

“That’s them! That has to be the damn snitch!” Gunther yelled before taking off after them in his ODM gear.

“Gunther wait!” Petra yelled.

“Dammit Gunther don’t go off on your own!” came Eld’s strict reply.

Before anyone knew what had happened, it was too late. Gunther was dead, hanging limply by his gear lines that were still attached to the tree.

You were being targeted.

—

Eren had been told to save himself. You were supposed to make sure he stayed safe. Petra, Eld, and Oluo stayed behind to defend against the Female Titan who had once again appeared. The operation had failed; you were paying for it with your lives.

Seeing the merciless slaughter of the team you had grown close with over the past month set a fire within you. Your blood boiled, your skin burned, and a deafening snarl tore from your throat.

“EREN GET TO SAFETY!” You commanded before taking off towards the titan.

“Y/N NO!” Eren screamed.

You shot through the trees at lightning speed, eyes filled with murderous rage. Petra. Oluo. Eld. Gunther. You would not let their deaths go unresolved. You would get revenge. You launched yourself at the Female Titan’s nape, retracting your ODM gear so that it could not be used against you. Another scream tore through your throat as you drew your blades, determined to shred the bitch until nothing remained.

The Female Titan was aware of your oncoming attack - not that you had done much to hide it. The stealth that you were once known for in your graduating class had been thrown to the wind along with your caution. You weren’t sure why you had allowed your emotions to overcome you, but you knew there was no turning back. Odds were you would suffer the same fate as your friends.

Well, that was better than the survivor’s guilt anyway.

Time seemed to slow as the titan turned her attention to you, reaching up to swipe you into oblivion. Regardless, you pressed on. With a silent apology to Levi, whom you’d grown close to, you positioned your blades for his signature move in unconscious homage to Humanity’s Greatest Soldier. You would not go down without a fight. However, before you could land a blow, you felt yourself being knocked to the side. The Female Titan was now out of view.

At first, you thought she had simply attacked you first, but you became intensely aware of strong arms enveloping you as you flew through the forest. The next thing you heard was an inhuman roar.

Eren had transformed.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Hissed your savior, grey eyes cast ahead. A storm was brewing within them, but he refused to let it roar uncontained. Not in the middle of a life-or-death battle.

Your Captain had come for you, and your protests died in your throat. “Petra…Oluo…They all-” was the weak response you provided.

“They fulfilled their duties as soldiers. You, however, surrendered to your emotion and almost threw away your life.” Snarled Levi.

Silence was all that followed. Deafening. You had no rebuttal.

“We’ll continue this in my office after we get back, Cadet.”

—

Having to throw your friends’ bodies from the cart as you made your getaway with the surviving members of the Corps only added salt to the wound. While others fought the order originally, you found yourself with a stone in your stomach and a lump in your throat.

For Levi, it was the same.

With one last look at the people you had come to love as family, you sent them off to the vast unknown, wishing you could follow.

—

Watching Levi listen to the proud declarations of Petra’s father was absolute torture. His body was slumped in defeat, his raven hair covering his eyes. Without a word you jumped from your cart and went to Petra’s family to break the news. Your hand took his wrist as Levi rode away and with a deep breath and a resolute stare, you broke the news.

“Petra Ral was a brave soldier who lost her life in the line of duty. Her ultimate sacrifice for the sake of humanity will not be forgotten - It will live on in me and the rest of the Survey Corps. I’m sorry for your loss, but I hope knowing she remains within us all is of some comfort to you.”

You weren’t sure what hurt you more: the hopelessness in his eyes, or the sound of the dirt giving way as the poor man fell to his knees.

It took everything you had not to cry.

—

Levi’s Office 2100 hours.

“Do you plan to defend yourself, Cadet?”

“No, Captain. I have no defense.”

The familiarity that Levi had shared with you was absent. A somber, tense atmosphere replaced it. After everything you had lost that day, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care.

“You went out there, blades at the ready, with the plan to die .” He began, struggling to keep his tone even. “Your poor excuse for revenge is a pretty fucking thin veil for your intention to give up. Remind me, did I train you that way?”

“No, Captain.” You uttered, e/c eyes cast downward. Your throat was raw from your earlier outburst, and all you could manage was a quiet, hoarse voice.

Levi’s patience was quickly wearing thin. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from you, but this wasn’t it. Your lack of fight was unnerving, your usual fire stamped out.

A loud slam reverberated in the room and you jumped. Levi appeared directly in front of you, as if out of thin air. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forced you to look at him. “Is ‘No, Captain’ the only response I’m going to get from you all night, f/n?” A snarl ripped from his throat, the storm in his chest beginning to overwhelm him.

You swallowed thickly, locking your gaze on his. “What would you have of me, Captain? I have no excuse. I have no reason. I lost my composure in the heat of battle and resounded to die. Is that what you want to hear? That I gave up? That I watched the people closest to me get slaughtered and felt I couldn’t go on?” The volume of your voice increased with every sentence you spoke. You ignored the burning in the back of your throat and the scratching that came with every syllable. Not only were you ashamed of your actions during the expedition, but you were also frustrated that Levi would not leave you alone.

“I lost my Squad, f/n! You don’t see me giving in to despair.”

“I lost my friends - my family!” You yelled, surprised by your own insubordination.

Once again the somber melody of silence fell between you both.

The conflict in his steel-grey eyes was palpable. Levi’s heart was hammering in his chest. His breaths were being pointedly controlled.

You expected him to hit you, kick you, throw you out. You expected him to respond in the same way he did with any other misbehaving cadet, but he didn’t. He just…stared at you, trying to figure out what to say.

“Then you know why I don’t want to lose you too.” Came his eventual reply. He did not allow you time to respond. “Dismissed, Cadet. I want you in my office at 0900 hours tomorrow. This office is filthy and the floors need to be scrubbed.” Levi reluctantly pulled away, turning his back to you.

He couldn’t handle any more tonight.

You took a deep breath and turned on your heel, making your way to the door. The familiar texture of the handle beneath you was grounding.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Levi.” And with that, you were gone.

You weren’t sure where this left you both, but it didn’t matter. Morning was just around the bend.

[imagine-fight-write]

Banana Fish, Vol. 1, Part 6

Hello, everyone! Time ran away from me again, laughing manically, but I am back!

So today Ash, after shooting his (former) gang members silly & laying down the law, goes to a doctor. Yes, really. But not just any doctor! No, no. This doctor is no longer licensed and does abortions. In the 80s. Which is also when this was written (1987, to be exact.) Well. I have no idea what to think, apart from Doc guy (his name is Meredith, a lovely name & looks it too) - Not-Doc Meredith has guts. No matter if who agree with what he does or not. But more importantly! Ash is wearing his lovely, comfy, totally 80s but comfy wool coat (pg. 65.)

(I want it so bad. Can’t you tell?)

And before I gush over the roller coaster ride that’s Ash & Meredith’s smack down conversation, I must bring your attention to Mr. Meredith’s poor assistant, Ms. Brandish. She’s a bit cold to Ash, asking he has an appointment when Ash is clearly a regular. Ash notes this, then says this line: “My own professional advise is to go throw that virginity away somewhere. Anywhere. I heard it rots if you don’t use it.” (pg. 65) And I’m just WHAAATTT? WHAT?

Like, good grief Ash, what did she do to you to be so mean? That’s utterly rude. Was he in a bad mood or something - I mean yes, he just got betrayed by 2 gang members & had to shoot them up & chase them off, that’s got to have cut him up, it’s clear his gang are people he trusts - he’s not walking on sunshine here.

No, scratch that! It doesn’t matter! You do not insult someone over how little or how much sex they have. Also, making assumptions is stupid! Just because someone’s single doesn’t mean they’re a virgin! Idk. This just blew me for a loop. I’m just baffled. Especially because, far as I know, Ash is never so rude again. Not to someone who has less power than he does (this is called “punching down”.) Maybe part of why this struck me so hard is because Ms. Brandish is a female character, of which Banana Fish has a distinct lack of. Like female street gangs. Where are the female street gangs? (wines).

I mean, Fruits Basket has them in spades, to the point of you wouldn’t even know gangs of dudes exist, because they’re never mentioned! So why not Banana Fish? Sigh. I’m not going to forget this (the insult or lack of female street gangs). But nobody’s perfect & Ash in particular has all the cause in the world to be messed up when it comes to sex (though that’s no excuse.) Don’t ever insult someone that way! Moving on. To a glorious, glorious smack down conversation. I LIVE for the conversations in Banana Fish and here the wit’s sharp as a knife. I love it. I love this even more than Ash’s convo with Dino which I gushed hard over in Part 5. 

Was it Part 5? Agh, numbers.

https://imagine-fight-write.tumblr.com/post/641529643344723968/random-banana-fish-review-part-5-vol-1

Yes, it was. I am right, like always.

Anyway, I like Ash & Meredith’s covo more.

This is because, unlike his convo with Dino, Ash is on equal footing here, able to take and give smack talk. Neither he or not-Doc Meredith loses, it’s just an ongoing thing, and I love it. So, top of pg.66, Meredith comes out of surgery looking shady as all get out (the surgical mask doesn’t help.) So we already know he’s shady even before Ash confirms he’s not a licensed doc.

(And everyone says early Banana Fish art isn’t good - nach.) So. Ash starts things off with a quip, “Business is booming down at the clinic” only to inform us, “Mister Meredith is no longer licensed by the state of New York.” Also, Ash looks exactly like the smug teen he is when he says this, lounging in the not-doctor’s chair. I love it. I have to wonder. How did this relationship start? Is Ash’s comment a subtle reminder he could get Meredith in trouble if he wants? (It’s a very Dino-like thing to say, ugh.) Because it sure sounds like it. But Meredith also knows at least something about Ash’s past (see later in their convo) just as damaging. But at the same time Meredith does help Ash out in a major way later on - So no, I don’t think Ash is blackmailing him. Or if he is, Ash is mostly bluffing & Meredith knows this. Note also how Ash is bad at being nice to grown men (because of course he is.) So that might be part of his edge here.

And Meredith doesn’t take this lying down. He shoots back, “I have news for you Ash - that “J.D.” of yours doesn’t stand for Juris Doctor.” I’m scratching my head at this. It’s obviously an insult of some sort (at Ash’s intelligence? Which - haha, we all know Ash is smart at this point. Right?) Thoughts? Can anyone explain? Anyway, Meredith muses on the surgery he just did, “She had a fibroid on her uterus.” I have no idea what that means (tho I could guess) but it sounds awful. Ash quips, “you do sterilize the dustbuster first, right?” “Dustbuster” meaning uterus, I think. Also, dustbuster is a marvelous word. So fun to say. Makes me think of dustbunnies. Meredith is just, “take the medicine & go.” Like, give the man a break Ash, he just performed surgery. The medicine is, of course, for Griffin. Meredith warns Ash that it “only works for minor attacks” & “he should be in a hospital.” (This sounds like an old argument.) Ash snaps back with a great line, “What would they do - plant him in their vegetable garden?” Valid point. But - maybe actual doctors could help Griffin? Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Also note how this tells you Meredith knows about Griffin. He doesn’t know that Griffin is Ash’s brother (see later in convo) but he still knows about Griffin & his vegetable state. This is a lot of trust Ash has for Meredith, is what I’m trying to say. Ash being a teen with trust issues up to here. But, because he doesn’t know, Meredith asks, and you can hear the sneer in his voice, “Besides, what’s he [Griffin] to you? Don’t tell me he’s your lover.”

Sigh. Meredith also makes the assumption Ash is gay and shames him for it. Though it also raises the question - how does Meredith know or find out about Ash’s past, the one Marvin hinted about with the “movies”? Or does Meredith assume Ash is gay based on the context of him caring for an older man? (who he clearly hasn’t seen, or he’d know right away Ash & Griffin are brothers.) I hope for my health he didn’t watch those “movies” Marvin mentioned. But I don’t think so. I don’t think Ash would trust anyone who watched them. I wouldn’t either. And beat them with a stick. Anyway! More brilliant conversation (pg. 67) Ash - “I’ve got a favor to ask.” Meredith - “Uh-oh. Got confused and knocked someone up? I didn’t know you had it in you.” (Ouch. Zing.) Also, again the implication Ash only sleeps with men. Seriously, what is Ash’s reputation, & why does he have it? But then Meredith is nice.

“I’ll take care of it. I mean, being a dad at your age is a heavy responsibility.” Which is true. Ash is 17.

  But also, way to assume Ash doesn’t want to be a dad. 

  Not to mention - have you noticed where he (Ash) lives? The (delightfully) dingy apartment Griffin is in? The fact that Ash has like, 1 set of clothes, 1 jacket, 1 coat, & a vest. Ok, scratch that, 2 shirts. But still! I have no idea what he does for $$$. Wait. Hold up. Stop. 

Maybe that’s why everyone thinks he’s gay, because he sells himself . . . . . . . . .

Don’t mind me, I’m going to bawl my eyes out in a corner and simultaneously cuss out everyone who thinks, “No, buying somebody for sex is fine, of course they enjoy it.

 And I pay them well -”

[ERROR. ERROR. TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE. ERROR.]

Whoo. I’m not recovered, but I am back.

Curse my avid imagination. And then bless it, because I love my imagination. No, I assume Ash does other stuff to get $$$. He’s a leader of a gang, for crying out loud. (I have no idea what they do, haha.)

Does anyone know? Please comment! Let’s continue. Meredith is all (snigger) “Did you knock someone up?” (and grown-ups call children childish.) Ash punches back with, “Not your usual services” and shows Meredith a packet of what was in the vial. Banana Fish. (pg. 68) Am I the only one whose ever only seen those paper medicine packets only in manga? There was one in Rurouni Kenshin too. Is this more of a Japan thing? Anyway, Meredith is like, “What is that?” Ash confirms it’s not dope & asks him to analyze it. Meredith is like, “Sure, for overtime” meaning “if you pay me” and Ash goes, “When you don’t have your hand up, you’ve got it out,” 

Reminding the reader of how Meredith was grumbling about Ash having to call him before he comes in. Then Ash says, “Be seeing you.” And all I can think of is The Prisoner, an obscure British T.V. show, 

Brilliantly reviewed by Dominic Noble here:

But wait! There’s more! Ash quips,

“Don’t let any of those tiny ghosts haunt you.” Meredith fires back, “I’ll do your autopsy for free when they fry you in the chair.” Ah, I love it. Such beautiful wit. This is how you write dialog. The reader doesn’t have to be told point blank Meredith does abortions - it’s eluded to in the dialog. Or that he & Ash have been doing this for a while, Ash paying for the medicine and picking it up. Even Meredith’s question of what relationship Ash has with the guy he’s getting the medicine for sounds like an old question he’s asked before. Or maybe I’m completely wrong & they’ve only been doing this for a few months. Who knows. Regardless, their banter is so refreshingly playful and equal compared to Ash’s convo with Dino. Sure there’s a power play, but it’s equal. And speaking of Dino -

I love his shocked expression top of pg. 69. This is the start of the famous duck scene I had to gush about in the last post. My priorities are important and valid! Anyway, Angie (and his fabulous mustache) is reporting to Dino that Ash was found with the body of the poor Banana Fish guy by his 2 (former) gang members. Dino rightly surmises Banana Fish guy might’ve said something or Ash took something off his body (both are true, as we know.) I like Dino’s contemplative face. The study is such a mob boss 80s den, I love it. Dino’s polio shirt with cravat bothers me, though. *I can’t spell cravat, help me. Top of pg. 70 - oh hi, Marvin, almost didn’t see you on the last page. Marvin asks to “grill” Ash, a.k.a. question him, and Dino is all, “No, no, he’s a sharp one.” (meaning Marvin’s not? Ha! But it’s true!) We learn the 2 (former) gang members are in the front hall, and this happens: Dino has a great line, “I think they’ve heard enough stories.” Angie goes “Sir?” Both he and Marvin have marks noting surprise or shock, or maybe flinching? But I don’t think either one is exactly surprised or puzzled. More - ugh, please not this. And Dino clarifies, “Drive them down to the Pine Barrens and kill them both.” 

(Like, he doesn’t trust them to know they need to kill both of them, not just one).

But I can’t laugh because, not only is Dino ordering them to commit murder, but to kill 2 boys. 2 boys who know nothing. And they do. I will never forgive Angie. His mustache can burn to ash. Hercule Poirot’s is better!

And eventually the police find them (their bodies.) But first scene change! It occurs to me that there’s no real chapters in Banana Fish. I really think it’d help. But considering it came out in the 80s, maybe chapters weren’t a thing yet? Remember, manga volumes are essentially complied pages of the manga / comic from a magazine put into a book. There’s no chapters in a magazine comic, so there’s no chapters in the volume - yet. I’m surprised Banana Fish volumes haven’t been reissued with chapters & chapter title pages. Mine’s from a 2nd printing in 2018. Huh. Anyway. The police found the Banana Fish guy! And have no clue who he is. Bummer. Pros for the autopsy guy, Gordon, for being a Black guy, but also eloquent, (pg.71) *I can’t spell autopsy or eloquent “A gentleman among corpses, detective.” - This makes me think of Sherlock Holmes.

(That’s Basil Rathbone, for those in the back.)

The autopsy guy continues,

“Three neat holes like a suit coat. Nice and clean . . . You have to appreciate such distinctions in this profession friend. Why, the state of that fellow we have in here last Tuesday? . . . Made it very difficult for me to enjoy my hamburger.”

So Ash’s (former) gang members are good shots? Makes sense.

And that’s all for now. Hopefully I’ll be on time next Wednesday & we’ll meet Max, Ibe, and Eiji!!!! There is a diabolical plot against Ash! A bar fight!

[notdeadyet09]

Cherry slushees are the only reason to wake from the dead

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466426

Ship: Valeyne with hints of Wayleska

word count : 3591

Warning: Jerome.... uses a gun at one point and t’s kind of manipulative 

Weekly visits to the graveyard were almost as constant as weekly threats on Bruce’s life. They were tedious and usually not very exciting. The most action anyone could get was if Jerome’s Maniax were trying to cause trouble again. Bruce should have been thankful for the lack of trouble (he wasn’t). After all, as much as he would never admit it, Jerome wasn’t ever boring

It was unusually cold for September, Bruce noted while wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. The cold seeping out of his breath, little vapors. Bruce could faintly remember a time when his mother had called it “the last remembering blood of the dragons”. There were no dragons anymore, no time for playing games of fantasy and fairy tales. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up again this was Gotham after all.

It would almost make him laugh, dragons flying over the perpetually gray skies, lighting them up with fire. Maybe if there were dragons it would be the reason today felt different. Something being decidedly off. It had started with Bruce missing his alarm. Though it almost seemed a primary to most people Bruce never missed his alarm, whether it be the clock in his head or the phone on his phone, he was always up at 5:30 in the morning. But today he slept in, waking up only when Alfred had come to look for him (Alfred seldom woke up when Bruce did, sighing about old age and needing rest. Bruce could almost agree with him).

So after his entire schedule had been thrown off, he had to deal with the unfortunate circumstances of one Selina Kyle, turning up, high as a kite. It wasn’t often that she smoked but when she did, she went all out. Bruce could surmise that she did most things that way.

After laying her down to sleep and answering a few questions that no one would ask unless you were high as a kite (Bruce had almost burst out laughing when she asked him if he slept upside down, like a bat) and bidding Alfred a warm farewell he’d slipped into the cold Gotham air.

Weekly visits could have seemed risky, the routine of it all making it easy to find him, but in Bruce’s heart, he didn’t care. If nothing else he had to make sure that Jerome was dead. He didn’t see Jerome die. He could only assume what laughter he went out on (if he was laughing). But he did see the body before they put it in a cheap coffin and a small service that only the other twin attended. Bruce certainly didn’t think about how he stood there, hiding behind a tree, listening to the empty words of a hired priest. No, he really didn’t think about that. He also didn’t think about the stab of a bad feeling when he heard about Jerome’s death. The sickly way that tears almost surfaced. Because why wouldn’t they? Jerome was someone that Bruce had never claimed to know well but from a few choice words at the diner, he understood enough

“No one helped me… ever” it was said with almost disbelief, and barely disclosed humor. Though it did mean something to Bruce. What makes someone like Jerome happen. Cause it really wasn’t care and help.

Bruce shook off the thought, reminding himself of what Jerome had done. It was no matter who made him like this, he still did terrible things. Things that kept Bruce up at night. Like spraying Jeremiah. Oh, Jeremiah. Burce almost grimaced at the thought of the man before the gas. A good man. Someone hurt by their own twin brother and left one last trap after it was all over. What would Jeremiah say if he knew who Bruce was reminiscing about?

He didn’t feel like answering that question today, with all of the feelings that went along with it. Why would he be mad? It's not like…. Like anything. It’s nothing Bruce thought as deftly made his way through cleanly cut grass and pale grey headstones.

It was, unfortunately, familiar; the feeling that dropped to the pit of Bruce’s stomach as he froze taking in his surroundings. Something was wrong, terribly fucking wrong. Displaced earth the color of late-night coffee and a shovel lay next to an open grave.

Jerome’s open grave.

Bruce instantly whipped around, almost expecting Jerome’s Maniax to come falling down from the sky like flying monkeys. His breathing becomes sharp but quiet, ears straining to hear anything that might give him a clue. Bruce knew that he should be calling Jim or Alfred or hell, even Jeremiah but something made him digress. Something made him want to stay here and fight. To fight like the dragons that didn’t exist anymore. The incredible itch to fight and win wasn’t something new theta Bruce had expected but it was something that he largely never dealt with. Never dealt with who caused it. Later he could deny the almost giddy feeling of finally something happening. Later maybe he wouldn’t need to. But now he just stood his ground, digging expensive boots into the soft late-night coffee dirt.

Bruce didn’t seem to notice the curling of his fists, the rosey fingertips still numb from the cold, and looked up and the bright gray sky. It was the kind of gray you’d find on harsh winter days, the stark blue’s and harsh whites of snow simulating the city. You’d never see the sun, but it always loomed. Loomed wasn’t the word most people would call the sun, that being reserved for fear and clowns at children’s birthday parties. Bruce thought the word made sense, as Gotham seldom was like everywhere else.

Bruce resided to urge to call out for Jerome’s cult, knowing that they had to be here somewhere, somehow. Calling them out would only make them hide more. It was an aspect the Bruce never got, seeing how taunting Jerome only made it easier to find him. Though it may be because the Maniax were only cheap imitations, not the real thing. Bruce should stop thinking like that shouldn't he, the almost fond smile he got when talking about the late face stapler sleeping back into practiced apathy.

Sighing, Bruce walked over to the grave, crouching down to talk about the cold soil in his fingers. It was fresh, as only dirt used to cover your worst (best) enemy could be. Likely dig less than a day or so. Why hasn't anybody noticed? Maybe there wasn’t anybody left to notice the sickly part of him answered, referring to the king night guard that had always let them in. Bruce happened he wasn’t dead. Strike that, Bruce knew he wasn’t dead. After all, what good was hope if he didn’t know it (that’s all hope’s good for). The shovel was interesting, placed haphazardly on the ground as someone had just thrown it there. Maybe they had. Maybe they were running and hiding, though Bruce doubted that they could run carrying a casket, seeing how it was missing.

Must have been more than one person then. That at least narrowed the list done to basically everyone.

“This is getting nowhere,” Bruce muttered, still rubbing dirt in between his fingers. Only now had it donned on him that he should call Alfred. Even though calling Alfred was likely the first thing that anyone else would have done (either that or they didn’t know the man well enough). But Bruce did, barely bothering to wipe the dirt off of his hands before reaching into his coat. The black coat almost seems to envelop him, like the night sky lacking stars. There weren’t ever any stars in Gotham, cloud cover, and light pollution getting in the way. After all the first time Bruce had seen stars, real stars were in Switzerland. When he was 12. Someone might call it sad, or as the missing dead man would say, absolutely fucking hilarious.

Bruce could see it as funny too, only seeing the stars after the passing of his parents. Passing was such a kind and soft word for murdered in an alley, used by stuffy old people paying their respects (and apparently 19-year-old billionaire vigilantes).

Shuffling around Bruce finally realized something. He left his phone at home. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. Bruce could almost laugh. Of course, this was the day he left his phone at home. It only served as evidence that something had it out for the poor boy, something with a cruel sense of humor.

He did a final pass over, making sure that at least he had some weapons; that being his chain, a Batarang, and what could only be described as the shock pen (a name given by a very high Selina). I was basically a mini taser that was sure to be illegal everywhere but this was Gotham after all.

The silence in the graveyard almost froze like it was waiting for a cue. And cue it did get, in the form of familiar laughter. Jarring, hysterical laughter that Bruce had only heard from one man. Bruce whipped around coming face to face with a smiling man holding a slushie.

Fuck.

“Heya Bruice,” The familiar nickname and the smiling face of Jerome Valeska couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than a man coming back from the dead. And of course, he’s back. It’d only fit for what fluid rules mortality in Gotham ran on. Because the old lady that had passed away a month ago didn’t get to come back but of course, the psycho clown gets too.

“How?!... How the fuck are you alive,” The words came out shakily, the resolve Bruce had been building after Jerome’s death less steady than he thought. But I suppose seeing a dead man can do that.

“Such language,” Jerome gasped, the words scratchy. He paused coughing once before taking another slurp of the slushie. Where’d he get that and who he had killed to get it Bruce didn't want to know, instead reaching in his coat to pull out a Batarang. But something stopped him.

That being the sharp click of a gun and metal being pointed in his direction. Because why wouldn't Jerome have a gun?

“Whatever you’re going to pull out of that very expensive coat of yours, I suggest you don’t," he was smiling, a sickly kind of smile that was almost fond (bruce almost wondered if Jeremiah got it from him). He was dressed in what Bruce could only assume he was buried in, a cheap tux that lacked any source of flair and panache. Almost like the one he’d been wearing at the gala when Bruce got the little white scar that seems to burn against his neck now.

Surveying what little option he had left, Bruce decided on just sighing and putting his hands up. He’d hoped that Jerome was still a little stiff form y’ know coming back from the dead and that he would be a little easier to take down. One could only hope as Jerome laughed a bitter laugh, eyes trained on Bruce’s face. He was looking for something, whether it be a sign of what Bruce was going to do or just a plain crazy that sent a chill down Bruce's spine.

“How are you here?” The words came out steadier this time, as the surprise of a dead man walking began to diminish. Another day, another psycho clown twin brother of your sort off boyd=friend rising from the grave.

“Well funny story-,” Jerome said scratching the back of his head with the gun. The safety wasn't on “- I woke up, tired and in real need on a slushie and y' know the place on 4th and Baker street sooooo….” he paused, letting false tension build. Still the showman as always.

“You came back from the dead for a goddamn slushie," Bruce interrupted anger and disbelief coating his voice. It was in character though for the red-haired man to take death like it was only a nap between classes at the rich school’s bruce used to attend. It should have frightened him more. A lot more, but Bruce could only focus on the almost giddy smile of a man happy. “Oh, and by the way, how is my little…. Fuck he’s older than me now!” It didn't take a genius to figure out who he talking about.

Nor did it take a genius to see the slight flush on Bruce’s cheeks. Jerome paused slightly, scattered thoughts flashing through his head. Did something happen? Did they happen? It almost made Jerome cringe before he remembered the gas. The little trap for a little brother.

“Your damn trap worked if that’s what you're wondering,” Bruce answered the question unsaid. It could be easily forgotten how good the dark knight was at reading people, years of charity balls and betrayal would do that. But that still didn’t answer the flush. If the cold (was it cold? it’s hard to tell when you’ve been dead) was to blame or something else entirely. Jerome hoped for the cold. He wasn’t ever a liar, or blind, Bruce was cute and interesting, almost more interesting than anyone in Gotham and to think that his brother, infected by the same insanity as Jerome had snatched him up made him sick to his stomach. Though that could be whatever bugs he hadn't thrown up yet.

“Are you blushing over dear old Jeremiah Brucie boy,” Barely contained anger made Bruce freeze. What was Jerome getting at? Though Bruce knew that an answer might only anger him more if it is a true one at that.

“Why should you care, Jerome?” Bruce was overwhelmingly aware of the flush on his face, reconsidering if it would be best to try and fight him now. After all the last time Jerome saw Jeremiah he was still sane (maybe he never was a little voice whispered). It would have been cute if it didn’t mean that Jeremiah had won.

And Jerome never lost, but when he did he was one hell of a sore loser.

“Because I want to know if that bitch went to the cute billionaire before I did,” It was said casually, obviously feigned but still casual. The words took about five seconds to register in Bruce's head before he choked on his own breath.

"You’re not funny Jerome,” He hissed through his teeth, wrapping the coat further around him before asking another question.

“How the hell aren’t you cold,” He pointedly looked down at Jerome’s bare feet, stained blue and covered in dirt. Jerome didn’t answer, instead picking up another slush from the ground. Why hadn’t Bruce seen that?

Again, though it might have just been the shock of a very cold and odd day, it took a few seconds for Bruce to realize what Jerome was offering.

“How do I know that you didn't do something to it,”

“I’ve only been alive for one day and you really I’d kill you like this, with no one watching,” So It was just them. But it did bring back sick remembrance of dead butlers and staples. Of the Carnival where Bruce had bargained for his life and almost ended up taking Jerome's. Bruce nearly shook his head, trying to dislodge frozen memories and focus on what’s in front of him.

“Just give me the goddamn slushee you fuck,”

“The mouth on this kid,” Jerome handed him the plastic cup, only ⅔ full. Bruce pointedly ignored that Jerome had likely drunk from the straw that he would before talking again.

“First of all I’m older than you and second, how exactly are you planning on making my life a living hell this time,” He was tired, and it almost offended Jerome, that someone was taking more of Bruce’s energy then he was. So he did what every good performer does when something isn’t going their way… try to seduce the audience.

“Y’know I was going to shoot you,” a glare was sent his way, form tightening “but I decided no I’m just going to have some fun with my favorite volunteer~,” He purred the last words, relishing in the momentary shock spreading over Bruce’s face. Sadly it was smothered over by priced apathy and feigned emotionless. Jerome knew better, saw the little cracks in the mask Bruce seldom took off.

“But I could always just… try to kill your butler again,” It was a cheap shot, both of them knew that but it worked, as Bruce lunged forward with new fury in his eyes.

Jerome slid left only to be tripped by Bruce’s longer legs (when had he gotten so fucking tall?). The newly found breath was knocked out of him and a punch landed to his face. Familiar pain bloomed, with the slight tearing of skin. It had been sewed on better this time before he was put in the ground. Bruce could see the giddy surprise when he easily took down Jerome, practicing moves against dead men. Getting the gun was easy, one strike to a fragile wrist and it was flying to the other side of somewhere. Jerome’s skin was cold though, even more like Jeremiah. Or maybe Jeremiah's was like Jerome’s. It was uncanny, the familiar of their positions. NO smeared face paint or mirror shards this time. Bruce loomed over Jerome, tired fury burning in his eyes.

Bruce looked older, Jerome noted, remembering the offhand comment Bruce had made. That meant that Bruce had to be 19 at least. Less boyish charm and more hard angles. Still the same smell of rich person perfume. Seriously, if Jerome could count on one thing from the otherwise surprising boy (Jerome still refused to call him a man) it was that the rich floated off of him. “This… feels familiar. I can’t put my finger on it though,” Bruce glared at him again before noting how he stood. Oh.

“Shut up or I will make you shut up,” It should have come out harsh and grim like the “bat growl” Selena had nicknamed it. But instead, it sounded breathless, like this had been the fight he was searching for.

] “I’d like to see that Brucie~” Again with the flirting. Jerome wasn’t even thinking about the knife in his pocket, only focused on the very angry man on top of him.

Bruce found it hard to think as well, acting on instinct. That seemed to happen a lot around Jerome. Case in point smashing his lips against Jerome’s. Fuck.

His lips unsurprisingly were smiling. But they tasted like dirt and ort and cinnamon. Why did they taste like cinnamon? Bruce could hardly compare it to the few kisses he shared with Jeremiah. They were different, Jeremiah being like mint, a lemon, cold and sharp.

Oh, and Jerome was kissing back, like really kissing back. Through giggles and muffled words, Bruce didn’t want him to say. Jerome was like kissing gasoline. Like poison and fire and crescendos in crappy club music. It made Bruce want to laugh.

On the other hand, Jerome Was laughing, kissing someone who felt like the beating sun on burnt skin and ducking your head in ice water. Jerome would swear that something had zapped him every time Bruce moved his lips. But then it ended, Bruce pulling away with wide eyes.

“What the fuck did I just do?” He whispered, not getting up from the familiar position on Jerome. What the fuck indeed. And Jerome was still laughing, before looking up with eyes filled with danger. Danger that Bruce had seen in his own.

“Well I’m pretty sure you just made out with a mur-” he was cut off by bruce’s hands shoving themselves over his mouth. Half tempted to lick them before he looked up and saw the most emotion he’d ever seen on Bruce Wayne’s face.

Shock and a faraway look were the easiest to spot, but the remaining anger and guilt came pouring out of him like oil. His lips were bruised, and his hands shaking. Jerome could watch him like this for hours.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said sheepishly, lifting his hands from Jerome’s face.

“What’s there to be sorry for darling, except for pulling away,” Jerome on the other hand felt like he was flying. He hadn’t lost after all. And y’ know he got to kiss a very pretty boy who almost killed him once. That seems to let Bruce finally come to what little sense he must have had left and lifted himself off of Jerome.

Only now, after Bruce had gotten up did Jerome notice the cold. It almost made reach to pull Bruce back down. But he didn’t, instead opting to watch the dark-haired man with happy eyes. Bruce wasn’t running like he should have done. He didn’t seem to be doing a lot of things he should be doing today wasn't he? Instead, he just picked up the slush and sat back down next to Jerome.

“So I’m guessing nobody’s going to know about this,” Jerome spoke, breaking what surprisingly wasn’t an awkward silence.

And Bruce was laughing. Laughing quietly but still laughing. Holy shit Jerome was in love. It was sweet and fragile, like a spider’s web but and the same time sharp and harsh. The wonderful paradox that was Bruce Wayne Jerome supposed as he started laughing too. And there they were, a man who repeatedly refuse to stay dead and a man who stubbornly refused to kill, laughing like children in a graveyard.

[gascon-en-exil]

hey there!! i love seeing your analyses about dimitri and dedue in the dimidue tag! i was wondering how you felt about the way dedue's mental health is treated within the story, and consequently in the fandom. i love dimidue, but one thing i can never get behind in fanworks is that dedue's mental health is completely neglected in favor of dimitri's. i feel like dimitri is very "in your face" with it, whereas dedue's issues are much more subtle and up for interpretation.

Something crucial that has to be kept in mind here is that there are several gameplay and storytelling factors that lead to canon prioritizing Dimitri’s mental health over Dedue’s. 

One is what I call lord privileges: lords and other major plot-relevant characters in FE naturally enjoy the potential for more development and more story focus than members of the supporting casts whose characterization is typically relegated to supports, base conversations or similar, and smaller story moments. Of the house leaders Dimitri especially benefits from this type of narrative privilege as he is the one with the clearest character arc and the only one that ties very well into the plot progression of his route - and it just so happens that his arc centers primarily around his mental state and the ways in which he and others around him address his trauma. 

A second issue is how the writing has to accommodate two very important gameplay elements, permadeath and variable recruitment. Dedue dies by default in AM for what I theorize to have been a way to make Byleth’s more central to Dimitri’s recovery, and he only has plot armor during Part 1 in order to allow him to sacrifice himself for Dimitri during the timeskip even if the player let him be defeated. This is a subtle but consistent hitch in FE’s canon writing that affects every game to different degrees, and with these two characters in particular it causes Dedue to seem much more invested in Dimitri than Dimitri is in him. There is evidence that had this not been a concern of the writers that their relationship would have felt more balanced - Dimitri has exactly one support, his C with Byleth, that can only be triggered in Part 1, and in it he mentions how close he and Dedue are - but as it stands Dedue is not allowed a proper space in AM”s conclusion to the Duscur arc or anything other than his private relationships with his support partners because he’s not slated to survive into Part 2. The writers were not very interested in placing him back into the story even if the player does save him, which is why he has so few lines and no narrative significance in cutscenes after his return and why no one, not even Dimitri, acknowledges his survival in exploration dialogue.

How fanwork deals with this obvious imbalance is a tricky question and one I feel less qualified to comment on just because different writers tackle it in very different ways. It’s undeniable that Dedue is a more emotionally reserved person than Dimitri, and better at internalizing his trauma. Granted that’s not necessarily a healthy thing as Dimitri’s gradual breakdown over the course of Part 1 viscerally demonstrates, but even on the very rare occasions that Dedue displays real anger or grief (ex. his exploration dialogue in Chapter 12 where he declares that he also wants to take revenge on Edelgard for her connection to the Tragedy of Duscur, or his tearfully consoling Dimitri as they die together in CF) he never loses himself to those emotions. Whether that’s a reflection of his personal disposition, or if he’s practiced extreme self-restraint in the years since the genocide of his people is up to fans to determine. 

It’s important to remember too that Dimitri and Dedue have been each other’s primary source of emotional and mental support for four years before the start of the game. I joke about them being basically married through extreme trauma bonding with vassalage as a socially acceptable cover, but...that kind of is their relationship when you first meet them in-game, and it’s clear from the non-AM routes that without Byleth/the player’s influence they continue to be the most important people in each other’s lives ‘til death do they part (or even beyond). It’s reasonable to surmise that they’ve worked on processing their grief together and on putting on brave faces for the world - but as Dedue notes in one of his Part 2 exploration dialogues, Dimitri is too kind and sensitive to the suffering of others, and so everything that he witnessed and endured over the game’s middle chapters and the timeskip overwhelmed his best attempts at concealing his pain. 

Does Dedue have the same problems? It doesn’t seem like it, or if he ever did it seems like he’s learned to manage those feelings. We see him brushing off Felix insulting him and negotiating Ingrid’s xenophobia and even admitting quite frankly to Dimitri that he hates Faerghus for what they did to his people but considers their relationship to be more important. He even sets clear conditions that he wants to fulfill along with Dimitri before they can be as they are together openly (and yeah, this is an extremely queer-coded set of exchanges in their supports and it’s very hard for me to take all that “friend” business even somewhat literally), and Dimitri follows through on those conditions in their ending, imagine that. Of course it’s also shown in the non-AM routes that Dedue will not abandon Dimitri should be no longer be able to restore Duscur, which says to me that Dedue’s conditions in their supports are less about being able to love one another or be together and more about what Dedue will need to feel comfortable being the royal consort in all but name to the king of Faerghus while also being just as much a proud man of Duscur. I don’t know if that speaks to Dedue’s mental state, but I do think it’s a really good indication of how they navigate their issues and interact as a couple (if not in the most traditional sense).