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asgards-princess-of-mischief · 6 months ago

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Last Updated: 2024-10-28

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite BBC!Sherlock Holmes stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

✑ A 'Cold' Case by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[Dealing with] Sherlock could be... difficult, [and you] were about to learn just how [difficult he could be] when he comes down with an illness."

✑ A Queen for a Mindpalace [Victorian!Sherlock]￨by strangelockd • 18+ • 〔E᜶A〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "You and Sherlock have a past, but before you attempt to move on. You stop by to make amends, only for a realization to take place. The question remains, will you stay or go?"

✑ A Wedding Dance by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After walking in on the boys rehearsing Watson's wedding dance your eager to tease them. However, your excitement quickly turns into regret when Sherlock unexpectedly asks you to dance.

✑ Admit It by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "..."

✑ An Unconventional Love Story [Victorian!Sherlock]￨by imagines--galore • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: "Ever since you had met Sherlock at a Ball your parents had been hosting, you had been intrigued. He had no invitation, but had been able to fool all the guests into making them believe he was invited. Even your parents. You, however, had been suspicious and had trailed after him every step of the way…"

✑ Awkwardness and Revelations by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After working at Scotland Yard with your father, you met the world's only consulting detective. When feelings start to blossom between you and Sherlock, how will your dad find out about your romance with the clever detective?"

✑ Ballroom Blitz by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "John and Mary suspect a spark between [you and Sherlock]… they just can't… [prove] it."

✑ Bar Fight by bitternessismyname • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "[After finishing a case,] you, Sherlock, John, and Mycroft go to a bar [where] a man puts his hands on you. Sherlock doesn't take it lightly."

✑ Beg for Forgiveness by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your fiancé, the great Sherlock Holmes, comes back from the dead — just when you were ready to move on. Can you forgive him?"

✑ Brother Dearest by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Mycroft had never considered himself to be overprotective. However, he isn't overly pleased with how smitten his little brother is with you..."

✑ Date at a Crime Scene￨Prt. II by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Half impressed and half irritated, Sherlock glared at John. The two hadn't had a new case in weeks so when John told Sherlock that he had found some new clients, Sherlock jumped at the chance. Now he found himself on a date!"

✑ Dear Jealousy by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔M᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "When [you] reconnects with a former lover on a case, Sherlock is overwhelmed with jealousy. [However,] by doubting [your] relationship, he might just be the one who destroys it..."

✑ Different by stark-hero • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "After a night in together, you find that Sherlock Holmes is rather endearing whilst drunk."

✑ Drunk Comfort by imagines--galore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: …

✑ Drunken Love by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: After you had an argument with your flatmate, Sherlock, you end up in a pub, drinking your sorrow and anger away. But when Sherlock found you, things started to get amusing. Did you confess your feelings while being in your drunken state?

✑ His Love for Her by imagines--galore • 〔F᜶C〕 •

Excerpt: "You had had your heart broken one too meany times in the past. The most recent heartbreak had occurred in the form of your almost fiancée disappearing off the face of the Earth..."

✑ Hold It Together by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔F᜶E〕 •

Summary: "..."

✑ Innocent by futureplayboibunnie • 18+ •

Summary: "..."

✑ Iridescent: A Composition by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Sherlock's compositions are straight from his heart, a depiction of his most secret thoughts. What will you discover when he dedicates a song to you?

✑ Jealous, Love? by annesthaeticc • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♡ •

Summary: "Sherlock Holmes doesn't get jealous. Well, that was until you volunteered to help him out on a case that puts his feelings for you in jeopardy."

✑ Jealousy by iamsherlocked1479 • 18+ • 〔A᜶E〕 •

Summary: "You don't want to get caught up in a friends with benefits situation with Sherlock so you attempt to go on a date. Key word attempt."

✑ London Eye, the by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "[You've] a problem; [you're] in love with Sherlock Holmes [and] decided to bury her feelings, but we all know that nothing gets past the consulting detective and his deductions. [However,] could he be hiding something himself?"

✑ Master Mind by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Truly a mastermind, Sherlock outsmarts himself and you; at least he thinks so. How will he ask you out, though?"

✑ Meet the Parents by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Whilst visiting 221B, you finally get… to meet Sherlock's parents. Embarrassment ensues."

✑ Mine by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: Sherlock has no issue with you accompanying him and John to crime scenes; however, he has a massive problem with seemingly every officer slobbering all over his girl.

✑ Puppy Luv by annesthaeticc • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: While on a case, Sherlock stumbles upon a new friend… He brings her home, and fluff ensues.

✑ Romantic Stupidity by ladyalicesbookstore • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Summary: When Sherlock and [you have] to share a... bed in... Baskerville, will [your] friendship get sprinkled with… romance? Or are [you] both blind enough to not notice the signs of love?"

✑ Sentiment by goldencherriess • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock finds himself entranced by Lestrade's best friend and co-worker."

✑ Sentiment by stark-hero • 〔A〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Sherlock says something he regrets... can you forgive him for it?"

✑ Sincerity by a-cup-of-earl-grey-please • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Your boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes realizes you are feeling insecure — how does he remedy it?"

✑ Spiraling by stupidthoughtsinwriting • 〔A᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 🚫 •

Summary: "After an accident during a case, a hostage situation leaves you in a coma for a week. During that week in the hospital, things are going horribly in Baker Street."

✑ Weak by futureplayboibunnie • 18+ •

Summary: "..."

✑ A Bit More than Friends by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

✑ Adorable Otters by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Always on My Mind by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Babysitter by megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Bedside Manner by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Bet, the by poppyisnotaflower • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Brother? by way2geeky • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Comfort by stark-hero • 〔C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Confessions by worldofheroes • 〔F〕 •

✑ Desperation Calls by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Drunken Confessions by sherlocks-blanket • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ First Time by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Fixation by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F〕 •

✑ Forever Yours by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Good to You by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Hair Pulling by bakerstreethound • 18+ • 〔E〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ His Remedy by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ I Love You by strangelockd • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ I Took Care of It by stark-hero • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Keeping Track by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Love Notes by bakerstreethound • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Lust by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔E〕 •

✑ Mind Palaces by way2geeky • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Miss You by sherlocks-blanket • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ More Important by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ My Type by specialagentlokitty • 〔F〕 •

✑ Pancakes by aephereal • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Pregnancy Hormones by thranduilsperkybutt • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

✑ Sherlock by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Stuck with Me by specialagentlokitty • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Thursday Thrill by french-vanilla-in-the-clouds • 〔F᜶C〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Trying to Tie a Tie by theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction • 〔F〕 •

✑ Dating Sherlock Holmes... by make-me-imagine • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Getting into Trouble w/ Sherlock... by geeks-universe • 16+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sex w/ Sherlock… by fandom-puff • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Sherlock Being Affection… by fandom-puff • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || BBC!Sherlock Master Index

Authors: @a-cup-of-earl-grey-please || @annesthaeticc || @aephereal || @bakerstreethound || @bitternessismyname || @fandom-puff || @french-vanilla-in-the-clouds || @futureplayboibunnie || @geeks-universe || @goldencherriess || @high-functioning-lokipath || @iamsherlocked1479 || @imagines--galore || @ladyalicesbookstore || @make-me-imagine || @megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms || @poppyisnotaflower || @sherlocks-blanket || @specialagentlokitty || @starks-hero || @strangelockd || @stupidthoughtsinwriting || @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction || @thranduilsperkybutt || @way2geeky || @worldofheroes ||

#BBC Sherlock x Reader #BBC Sherlock x Female Reader #BBC Sherlock x Y/N #BBC Sherlock x You #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Y/N #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock x Reader #Sherlock x Female Reader #Sherlock x Y/N #Sherlock x You #Benedict Cumberbatch x Reader #Benedict Cumberbatch x Female Reader #Benedict Cumberbatch x Y/N #Benedict Cumberbatch x You #BBC Sherlock Fanfiction #BBC Sherlock Fanfic

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westeroslive · 26 days ago

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a great storm approaches : the clouds far upon the horizon growing near. on horseback a lone messenger arrives first, recognized as a member of the smallfolk by his dress, declaring the dangers of the storm and the peril the region will face. he brings with him a request from the small folk of a nearby village, pleading for safe haven as the storm would surely wreck their homes and bodies alike. the lord tyrell, in his benevolence and after consulting with her grace, decreed that a ballroom would be open for their use until the storm cleared and their village was safe once more — a kindness he’d provided many times prior when his people came searching for aid.

servants greeting the exhausted group at the gates, noting their mud-coated garments and the holes in their shoes — along with the great receptacles they carried with them. the last of their possessions they could not live without, one had stated, before the lot of them were led to the great room that would be their temporary shelter. court will not realize until later that there is not a single child among them; the bundles that some of the women carried nothing more than blankets concealing “sleeping” dolls.

the storm rages on : hammering against the stone walls of the castle with reckless abandon. tiny tots tucked in their beds hold their toys close as the thunder booms and rain pounds against the glass of their windows, nobles scattered across the grounds - some trespassing into the kitchens for a late night snack ( lemon cakes always kept in production to appease her grace and her fondness for the treat ) and others sneaking into their lovers' rooms for a tryst under the shadow of night.

among the rooms, stuffed into the ballroom, stand the gatherings of smallfolk granted safe haven within highgarden against the tempest beyond. or, they had stood within the ballroom. now what remains of their presence are the threadbare blankets they'd been granted to keep warm, spilt wine from goblets dispersed across the room, and the bodies of half a dozen servants of highgarden - loyal to the end. while the nobles rest away tucked neatly into their chambers, awaiting the end of the storm, a great hunt has arrived and they'd been greeted with open arms.

the bards of would later sing of how they swept through the stone and air in great companies, caring not to keep their presence hidden among the halls, but to leave fear and bloodshed in their wake. at some unholy tide, they had been welcomed in with arms wide open and offered food and shelter - guest rights provided with ease and yet these horrid spectres had turned upon their hosts with little care for the repercussions of the gods.

screams carry through the castle, waking the nearest nobles from their slumber as blood spills upon the stone. many call for their guards — too many when there are only so many swords to go around and some blades already locked in combat. some who can reach weapons with their own hands draw them, one’s lack of experience of little consideration for some when the stranger pounds upon the door, while others desperately seek out a hiding place. but terror is a great weapon; the assailants wield it well as storm of rain and blood rages on, illuminated only by the clashing of steel and the lightning cutting across the sky.

let us pray for these souls and discover who will survive through to the end of the terror.

OUT OF CHARACTER: THE STORM OF HIGHGARDEN

welcome beloveds, to spooky season. while life has been calm within the grounds since the maiden's ball - the nobles of our court are now in for a rude awakening as they are laid siege upon by the smallfolk allowed within the great walls of highgarden.

what does this mean for you and your muses? now comes the time to do what it takes to survive, and ensure their loved ones survive. it's deep within the night so they would not be prepared for this and so they must use what they can to their advantage before it is too late. will they survive the night?

please tag all starters related with westeros.storm

threads from previous events should be ended, otherwise transitioned into this one.

pre-plotted threads may remain as flashbacks.

#screw your courage to a sticking place <3 #happy spooky season #westeros.drop #westeros.storm #period rp #got rp

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dearophelia · 2 years ago

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best of sara's fic, according to her

Because I’m feeling some kind of way about my cancer lately and wanted to put together a Sara’s Greatest Fic Hits while I’m still around to do it (which is a morbid thing to type, but see the intro: been feeling some kind of way lately).

These range from my most popular fics, to the ones lost to weird posting hours, and everything in between. If I counted correctly, there are 14 fandoms on this list: from Mass Effect and Dragon Age, to Grey’s Anatomy and Stargate SG-1, to The West Wing and Calvin & Hobbes.

I’d appreciate reblogs on this (I am not ashamed to pull the stage iv cancer card here) so it can reach as many people as possible.

I have been writing fic for over 15 years; this is not a short list.

All are rated T or lower unless otherwise indicated. All stories are at or under the 3k mark unless otherwise indicated.

Stargate SG-1:

waves are universal (the heaven in hiding remix) (Sam/Jack; I’m very Normal about this fic; time travel and alternate realities, a host of OCs (and some familiar faces from Norafic if you look closely), oh and the Sam/Jack kid from the alternate reality! Only she’s an adult and working on a way to save the world! This has it all, folks: humor, romance, angst, action! I told you I’m Normal about it; 40k)

strange is the night where black stars rise (Sam; horror! A low creeping sense of doom! The King in Yellow! No, seriously, fuck that planet; 10k)

#sg1wedding (Sam/Jack; their wedding turned into An Event against their will; bets are going down about who would win in a fight: Bra’tac or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; also Jack loses his socks; twitterfic from 2012 and technology has definitely Marched On, just read it like an unhinged group chat fic)

phoenix (Sam/Daniel/Teal’c, Sam/Jack, Sam/Jack/Daniel/Teal’c; apocalypse (that I consulted a real live geologist on!); rebuilding in the wake of said apocalypse; team family feelings, kids, and some really shitty neighbors; 38k)

Dragon Age:

joy cometh in the morning (Ariadne; rated M; a host of OCs; mind the warnings; friendship; worldbuilding galore; friendships and mentors and first loves; did I mention friendship and worldbuilding?; 56k)

through the rude wind’s wild lament, and the bitter weather (Ari+Cullen; quiet magic, kind magic, good magic is still new to Cullen)

as the sun kissed the horizon (Ari/Josephine; a relationship in ten moments)

‘til we meet again (Ari+Cullen; platonic sleeping together!)

so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness (Ari; her faith is the core of who she is and, for the first time, Andraste isn’t there; post-Trespasser)

raise your fists up to the sky (Kylie/Krem; it’s Krem’s first day with the Chargers and there’s a naked elf in the middle of camp)

every demon wants his pound of flesh (Krem+Bull; Krem was in the Fade with the Inquisitor and the fear demon had some Things To Say To Him)

black dove (Anaya) & strange little girl (Anaya+Dagna) & dissolving clouds (Anaya+Cullen) (because neurodivergent Inquisitor, friendship, blossoming romance, and three very different takes on blood magic)

skeletons (Zahara+Bull; she is saarebas, he is Ben-Hassrath, and language is important)

children shouldn’t play with dead things (Juliette Amell; she’s always had an easier time with the dead than the living; cw for bugs)

a sorta fairytale (Josephine/Cassandra; flower shop & tattoo parlor AU; 8k)

Mass Effect Trilogy:

gonna set your flag on fire (Nora Vakarian, Liv/Garrus, James/Liara, Liv+Liara, Livfam; action! Humor! Angst! Worldbuilding! OCs!; I am Super Normal about this fic too; I promise everything’s okay in the end, promise, even though it isn’t written yet; Nora is an N3 and has an inactive control chip in her head. She and her team are ordered to investigate a Cerberus facility. It goes, shall we say, awry; 40k)

anthem (Liv/Garrus, Hannah/Zaeed, Liv+Liara; eight months is a long time without each other; angst with a happy ending (I promise); post-Destroy; 13k)

holy ground & dress (Liv/Garrus; ficlets from the night he gets sworn in as Councilor)

brightly shone the moon at night (Liv, Liv+Liara, Liv/Garrus, Livfam; five Christmases in Olivia Shepard’s life; 5k)

the pieces of gold, they light up your eyes & now we’re alone, now we’re alive (Liv/Garrus; the evolution of a relationship)

fighting is said to have reached palaven (Liv/Garrus; please, please let him be alive)

and some things you just can’t speak about (Quentus+Nico; the war)

‘cause i know that it’s delicate (Liv/Garrus; pre-wedding!)

nosce te ipsum (Nico; he likes boys and fanfiction and he didn’t think he’d get his little italicized oh moment)

i will write you love letters if you tell me to (Liv/Garrus; Hannah gives him one of Liv’s notebooks before he goes off to Omega; Garrus does the only thing he can think of with it)

i really need you (Liv/Garrus; James POV during the reunion scene in Priority: Palaven)

you look really tired (Liv/Garrus, Liv+Liara; post-Thessia, Olivia’s not doing well)

hey, so, ground rules (Liv+Zaeed; it’s a lot weird now that he’s dating her mom)

and all the scars you bear are from a previous war (Liv+Quentus; Mom!Liv)

you can hear it in the silence (Liv/Garrus; just a moment, post-war)

this all started because of a bad day (Liv/Garrus; from first meetings to matching rings)

combat, i’m ready for combat & turn on your favorite nightlight (Hannah; she’s a civilian and her daughter isn’t, and she’s bound and determined to know what Liv goes through when her boots hit the ground; Hannah, Zaeed, Liv, and Garrus hit up Armax)

four quarians who never made it back to the fleet (and one who did) (kinda what it says on the tin, honestly. Oh, Tali’s in this!)

everyone’s lost, the battle is won (Evangeline; somewhat predictably, my experiment in getting as many of my team killed as possible resulted in Feelings About It)

across the sky (Susan/Liara; how to make the Control ending feel good)

and yours is in red underlined (Vanessa; The Illusive Man has pissed her off for the last time)

i’m headed straight for the castle (Vanessa; renegade control ending; kneel before your queen)

Mass Effect Andromeda:

for saviours (Tori; ten scenes from a pre-Andromeda life; 10k)

ringing joyful and triumphant (Tori/Liam/Jaal; just some morning fluff)

the thing with the baby angara (Tori/Liam/Jaal; thinking about the future)

the undone and the divine (Tori/Liam/Jaal; the lone single solitary explicit fic on here, give it props for that alone; Liam gets absolutely railed by his partners. That’s it. That’s the fic.)

you’re like the thing that makes the universe explode (Sara Ryder/Suvi, Drack; kid, the only people who don’t know that you like Suvi are people who haven’t met you and Suvi)

this one’s for the torn down, the experts at the fall (Tori+Garrus; one night in the intersection of Victoria Ryder and Archangel; maybe they’re better friends than they both thought)

The West Wing:

a great revelation sigh (CJ; she’s Chief of Staff; ten steps to the apocalypse; the apocalypse source probably didn’t age well, heads up)

it’s in my blood and i won’t give up ‘cause it’s running through my veins (Amy+Andi; it’s Election Day in the future and Amy has nothing to do)

Grey’s Anatomy:

dropsonde (the singers in a lower choir remix) (Addison/Alex, Derek/Meredith, Addison+Derek, Addison+Mark, Mark+Derek; the one that kicked off all the remixes; absolutely off the rails from canon somewhere in S3; budding romances and kidfic and my theory about people being storms and lighthouses; 40k)

scarlet city (Mark/Addison, Burke/Cristina; film noir gangster and detective AU; Addison’s the gangster, Burke’s the detective; literally everyone I could fit into this fic shows up; also Denny is comic relief; 18k)

Misc:

access records (Star Trek Voyager; Naomi Wildman’s holodeck access for the past week; worldbuilding!)

in this twilight our choices seal our fate (the song in the house of night remix) (SVU; Olivia/Elliot; rated M; on the rise and fall of partnership; probably a little too much religious imagery but what the hell else am I gonna do with a minor in religious studies?; 4k)

the end of days job (Leverage; Parker+Eliot+Hardison; the apocalypse job, basically; this one ages well!)

let the only sound be the overflow (D&D; Calia/Kelpie/Edal, aka ot3: fathoms below; the ocean is big and they are not)

we are golden stars above silver seas (we hear echoes from another galaxy) (Calvin & Hobbes; Calvin+Susie; throughout all those years, she never gave up on him; this one went viral on tumblr [LINK] and I cleaned it up for the AO3 version)

lift her, pull her, from the orchids (Grace and Frankie; Grace/Frankie; the one where I invoke the spelling bee)

rocket queens (Babylon 5/Pacific Rim; Susan Ivanova/Talia Winters; look, they’re jaeger pilots, I really don’t know what else to tell you)

the great gig in the sky (Battlestar Galactica; Six; rebirth is painful, she forgets this sometimes)

#screams hits post #s:words

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aurora-313 · 5 days ago

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Ask game: 3, 17, 27

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Oooh, shit. That's hard. Black and Blue and Once More if Only to See You Again might be the obvious choices but there was a fic I wrote back in my RWBY fandom days, I mentioned it in another answer: Rose Above The Clouds.

I took the concept of RWBY Volume 7's first part and expanded Atlas and Mantle as nations (the locations the MCs were visiting that volume). I gave them a full blown government, socio-political history that one of my MCs was tied to historically, built government relations, internal politics, procedures, intrigue and military authorities. Really Game of Thrones'd it up with all this political wrangling. Then RWBY killed their last best character, which was the straw that broke the camel's back for me and I subsequently abandoned the fandom years ago.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

A whole bunch of different topics but specifically the anatomy of individual nerves and motor neurons, and how physical disability manifests in each type.

I was doing this research for a Mass Effect twin!Shepard fic years ago where the Shepard we "play" as was actually second choice for human Spectre. The preferred candidate was laid up in hospital due to moto neural damage (a whole subplot unto itself). It was quite interesting and my mum, a physio/rehab specialist, was helpful to consult about that too.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

Baubles is the only one I'll identify. I originally had it on anon but since replaced my name.

I have other fics on anon but those can be generously described as 'character bashing', which I prefer to keep my connect hidden.

As for Baubles? Honestly felt the concept was esoteric and weird. Ichigo's soul transmuted into a Hogyoku and thrown back through time by Urahara with the original intention of snatching a host body. Kaien then finds it on patrol and accidentally bonded to it, now he's got a new fancy sassy little paperweight barking at him.

Been umming and uhhing about making it into a proper series or just leaving it as a one-shot. Leaning to the latter. I have enough projects that don't get love as it is.

#bleach #my writing #asks #bleach au

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v2softunofficial · 4 months ago

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bittervalentine · 2 years ago

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i think people overcomplicate prospit/derse lunar sways when really theyre about as simple as the bare mechanics theyre connected to. would you rather be hosted among allies or among enemies? (would choose to be without safety or comfort or without knowing what the enemy is doing?) would you rather consult the clouds of skaia or the horrorterrors? (would you rather be guided by the light at the end of the tunnel or become one with the shadows? would you rather be guided or empowered?)

#homestuck #prospit #derse #hs meta #? i guess

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year ago

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Joint efforts

Part 3 to Dirty mind. This AU is living rent free in my brain and has kicked almost everyone else out.

Enjoy!!

Lan Xichen hands his brother an ornate, black envelope and does a very poor job concealing a teasing smirk. "The Yiling Wei Sect is hosting a large night hunt in their efforts to cleanse the Burial Mounds. The great sects and a few others have been invited, us included."

Lan Wangji glares at his brother, whose smile only seems to grow wider in response.

"I wanted to consult with you on whether we should go or not."

A blatant lie that Xichen doesn't even try to make sound convincing. He didn't need to consult with anyone on anything, he just wanted an excuse to torment his brother - fair, considering the damages the Lan sect had to pay for after the last discussion conference when Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian shared a room... but that doesn't mean Wangji has to like this.

"So?" Xichen asks and Wangji is, perhaps, considering fratricide on this fine summer morning.

"We will go."

Xichen tries to disguise a laugh in a cough but his brother knows better than to buy that.

"I will write back for confirmation." And Xichen smiles in that polite but incredibly annoying way that he does only when he wants to tease his brother about his love life. "Unless you wish to do so instead? I know you and sect leader Wei keep in touch very closely."

Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. Killing is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. Killing is for-

---

Sect leader Wei awaits the night hunt participants right outside one of the last few places of the Burial Mounds he has yet to subdue.

Lan Wangji feels his heart rate pick up at the sight of him - but then again this is regular occurence. He always feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest whenever Wei Ying is around, as if it's trying to escape his ribcage and merge with Wei Ying's own.

He's wearing a much lighter version of his sect leader robes, tighter to his frame, and Lan Wangji decides he is going to stare, very disrespectfully, at the thin give of his waist, and the way the tight underpants peek from underneath his over robe. And he knows, he knows the moment Wei Ying is going to turn around, his back will be as much of a sight as his front.

Lan Wangji is definitely going to pay the Yiling Wei sect's seamstress a visit and personally thank her for always encouraging Wei Ying to go for low necklines. He gets men who gush about breasts a lot better now.

(Totally unrelated, but he is also going to ask the seamstress if she makes lingerie).

Wei Ying has taken to wearing his hair down but for today's night hunt, he's gathered it into a sleek, elegant ponytail, a few strands framing his face and a beautiful, silver hairpiece holding it in place. Lan Wangji recognizes it immediately, knows there is a pair of bunnies engraved on it - because he had it made for Wei Ying himself.

Lan Wangji does not believe in coincidences and the moment he meets eyes with Wei Ying, he knows this was no play of fate.

To his right, his head disciple, Wen Ning, appears to know it too, and though he is undead, he still appears as though he is blushing.

To his left, lady Wen Qing wears her perpetually done-with-your-shit expression, and the more people pour in, it only seems to grow darker. That's understandable, considering most of the participants to this night hunt have wanted her and her family dead.

She suspiciously softens as she glances towards the few rogue cultivators that have announced they would be joining in. It appears that Wei Ying has been right in that Wen Qing seems to have discovered she "has a heart", as he playfully puts it. Hopefully lady Luo Qingyang will notice her affections soon.

The welcoming ceremony is short and withoit fanfare. Wei Ying thanks the participants for agreeing to join in the cleansing efforts, instructs them on what they are likely to find, how to request assistance if they run out of flares and wishes everyone a good time.

Cultivators disperse as they walk into the deep, dark forest, and Lan Wangji joins in his sect's delegation as they do. Wei Ying winks at him when they meet eyes before swiftly disappearing into the night.

Lan Wangji makes it his goal of the night to find him.

And other f-words him.

---

No wonder Wei Ying requested only the most powerful cultivators join in this night hunt. The corpses are the fiercest Lan Wangji has ever seen, and he's quite sure the resentful energy swarming the place is nothing but pure hatred in a semi-physical form. He doesn't even see Bichen's glare anymore, sending it to slash at the monsters almost blindly.

He shouldn't have followed that junior disciple out here. Not that he doesn't trust his abilities, but he's alone in a place where he can barely even see his own hand, and he's starting to grow tired from all the night hunting he's already done. He should have asked someone else to come with him - but it didn't look like that big of a deal...

Now that Lan Wangji thinks about it, strumming a few notes on his guqin to deter the resentful fog around, perhaps that wasn't even a junior disciple at all. Wei Ying said that the Burial Mounds is full of tricks, maybe this is one of them - conjouring an illusion to lure people in the deepest, darkest parts of the place and kill them to fuel its power.

Lan Wangji is not an idiot, nor is he arrogant enough to believe himself capable of handling something like this. This kind of resentment is ancient, powerful, not the apange of any one person, no matter how skilled. He is just about to light up a flare and ask for help when his ears fill with the shrill notes of Chenqing playing a powerful tune. The resentment becomes agitated, as if it's being cut into, wailing in thousands of voices of pain and despair.

Wangji recognizes the song and joins in, harmonizing with Wei Ying in an undefeated duet. The resentful miasma clears up little by little, and the two find themselves face to face, sharing a victorious smile.

"Hanguang-Jun, what are you doing all the way out here? Have you left everybody so behind?"

"Looking for you." And it's only a half lie. Yes, he ran after the ghostly disciple, but he had also been looking for Wei Ying during.

"It seems that you've found me." Wei Ying says and easily crosses the distance between them, wrapping his arms loosely around Lan Wangji's neck. His eyes glow red, high on the adrenaline of the fight, voice low and teasing. "What are you going to do to me now?"

Lan Wangji wonders if it would be safe for them to duck behind those large rocks over there-

A flare for the Wei sect goes up and Wei Ying all but jumps out of his lover's arms. "Hold that thought. Duty calls!"

Lan Wangji watches him disappear in a fog of controlled resentment and sighs, frustrated in more ways than one.

A horde of corpses approach, but he glares at them so fiercely that they turn the other way.

---

It's enrapturing to watch Wei Ying fight. He has a sword again, forged in blood and resentment, but he wields it with more elegance and poise than many that carry spiritual swords. He's swift with his movements, confident and undeterred, and Lan Zhan doesn't think he can night hunt anymore if he's getting so lightheaded.

Why is he getting lightheaded? Well, take a guess.

The night hunt has been entertaining as much as it has been useful, but daytime is nearing, the colors of the sky catching lighter tones. Wei Ying and his disciples build one last array, powering it up as it sweeps through the area and purifies it.

The burst is so strong that it knocks Wei Ying's hair piece out, and rips through some of his otherwise intact robes. Lan Zhan tries not to think indecently about that.

He does not succeed.

"Alright, I think this is the last one." Wei Ying announces, running a hand through his hair to fix it. "The sun is going to rise soon, so I'm calling this night off for the moment. Thank you to everyone who participated, and please be sure to rest properly after such effort. If you have been injured, visit Wen Qing's medical division, wounds sustained here must be cleansed properly!"

The disciples bow, about to leave, little groups forming to return to the Yiling Wei sect's village, when sect leader Wei very casually and totally not teasingly reaches to undo Lan Zhan's forehead ribbon.

"Lend me this one for a little bit, Hanguang-Jun, I lost my hair piece."

And he proceeds to tie a high ponytail, looking over his shoulder towards Lan Zhan with a knowing smile.

Everyone scatters quickly after that.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

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sillybouquetsoul · 2 years ago

Text

Cloud Castles - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Ballroom Dancing (ao3 link)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 5k

Pairing: Aisha/Sein

Story summary: They dance just out of each other’s reach, but each time brings them closer together.

Aisha and Sein navigate through the dark fairy tale of their own making, one encounter at a time.

Chapter summary: Aisha attends her first ball for her birthday.

Ever since their disastrous 14th birthday party, Sylvia has given up on the twins’ birthday celebrations entirely in the following years. Whatever part of her that wanted to keep up false pretenses was gone the moment she raised her hand on Aisha, and whatever imaginary bridge between her and the twins had burned down since then.

Aisha has no birthday expectations anymore. She and Aida won’t consume desserts that come from Sylvia directly. And Sylvia can’t be bothered to purchase gifts for them.

The closest thing to a gift that she receives on her birthday is a handwritten note from her fairytale friend. She’s been receiving these notes in the past three years. They’re just words on paper, messily written and simple in nature, but they hold more thought and effort than anyone cared to show towards her since Sylvia entered her life.

So on the morning of October 25th, she goes to the library as she usually does. The servants she passes on the way there don’t spare her a second glance—they probably don’t know, and don’t care that it’s her birthday today. Which is fine with Aisha; birthdays stopped feeling special to her since her father died.

But the prospect of reading the birthday note from her fairytale friend does make this day slightly more bearable. When she wished Aida ‘happy birthday’ earlier, her older twin didn’t respond. She only turned in her bed, facing the wall.

Aida always misses their father most on their birthday. Aisha makes a mental note to smuggle some pastries out of the kitchen before dinner time. Hopefully it will help cheer Aida up.

How sad that she must resort to such measures just to survive. It’s all because of Sylvia. Hopefully the next few birthdays will come sooner, so that she and Aida can collect their inheritance and escape out of Sylvia’s thumb.

She finds a new slip of paper in the fairytale book. It doesn’t take long for her to skim through its entirety:

Happy birthday. Time flies by so quickly, and now you’ve reached adulthood.

One day, I will find the opportunity to celebrate this special day with you.

Until that day comes, I hope you have a wonderful day.

If I’m lucky enough to see you today, I’ll be sure to wish you in person as well.

She rereads the note a few times, briefly puzzling over the writer—but never able to reach a conclusive answer—before folding it into a small square. She’ll keep this note with the others.

A few hours later, a maid’s voice draws Aisha out of her book.

“Lady Aisha, I beg your pardon for the interruption, but Madam Sylvia has asked me to relay a message to you.”

At the mention of her stepmother, Aisha’s lips curl downwards in reflex. “What is it?”

The maid bows her head. “Madam Sylvia would like to inform you that she’s hosting a ball at the manor tonight, in honor of you and Lady Aida’s 18th birthday. According to the madam, both of your attendance is required.”

Before Aisha can speak, the maid rushes in to add, “And Madam Sylvia says that if you don’t attend, then she will cut your allowance.”

That conniving bitch.

Thankfully, her voice comes out neutral, betraying none of the rage and hatred swelling to astronomical heights inside her. “Thank you for letting me know. Please tell Madam Sylvia that Aida and I… shall attend.”

The maid bows again and hurries off.

Aisha sets the book down and rubs her temples. Aida is highly amenable and loves socializing, so she won’t have issues convincing her older sister to attend.

But the nerve of Sylvia. How dare she plan for this ball without consulting her and Aida first? Who else is invited to attend? How much money is Sylvia throwing away for this unnecessary expense? There’s undoubtedly going to be multiple-course meals, dessert, drinks, and not to mention musicians. The list of expenses are endless whenever Sylvia is concerned. Budgeting is a foreign concept to her.

Threatening to cut off their allowance if they don’t attend—that angers Aisha most. She may be turning 18, but she’s not of age to claim her inheritance yet. As her legal guardian, Sylvia can still intervene in her financial matters. And Aisha can do nothing about it until she’s of age.

So she’s left with no choice but to attend this ball. As much as she detests mingling with strangers, both she and Aida need to make an appearance, especially since it’s being held for their birthday—regardless whether they consented to it.

Aisha’s wallflower strategy for the ball is simple; if she doesn’t stand out, then she’ll be ignored.

However, Aida is adamant on dressing her to get noticed; not the kind of dress that warranted a subtle, second glance, but the kind that invited a lingering gaze.

“Absolutely not.”

Aisha flings the dress that Aida threw at her onto the bed. Even though they’ve stopped sharing clothes for years, she’s well acquainted with her sister’s preference for bold and revealing dresses. Whatever Aida finds in her messy wardrobe won’t suit Aisha.

“Come on, Aisha. It’s our birthday. Girls should wear beautiful dresses on their birthdays.” Aida says beseechingly, head still buried halfway into her wardrobe as she pulls dress after dress onto her bed. “Don’t you want to impress the guests? Show them how pretty you are?”

“But that just proves to Sylvia that we’re willingly abiding by her plan. I’m not happy to attend a last-minute ball, and I certainly don’t want to give any indication that I’m enjoying it, because I know I won’t.”

“Oh, sister. I’m older than you by a few minutes, and yet you sounded more bitter and jaded than our stepmother just now. Must you be so glum? Why don’t you let those feelings go for tonight, and see where the evening takes you? Perhaps you’ll find a nice gentleman to dance with. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Aida pulls another dress out and poses before the mirror.

Aisha watches Aida fit the dress over her body. It’s a dusky pink gown with a scooping heart-shaped bodice. The hem and sleeves of the dress are excessively frilled, to the point of seeming girlish rather than womanly. Aida removes her current dress to try it on.

Never mind. Despite the frills and pastel color, she exudes an air of maturity—the fabric hugs her curves like a second skin. If anyone had reservations about her age, the gown eliminates all doubt.

“That looks good on you.” Aisha says, because Aida always deserves compliments—and not the kind from Carlo, who’s too boisterous and impulsive for his compliments to hold genuine weight.

Aida hums agreeably, spinning around to see the gown from all angles. The skirt flares as she spins, the tiny jewels at the hem catching the afternoon sun. If Cinderella exists, then Aida is her real-life equivalent.

After a few moments, the older twin beams. “Alright, I like this one too. I’ll wear this to the ball then! Oh, maybe I’ll catch Sein’s attention this time! But now,” her eyes meet Aisha’s through the mirror, smug and knowing. “We need to pick a dress for you.”

Aisha holds up a hand. “No need. I don’t want to look good.”

“Aisha!” Aida exclaims in disapproval. “Don’t say things like that. Do you want to end up a spinster?”

She shrugs. The life of a spinster sounds more appealing than having men gaze upon her with lust. “We’re not attending the ball to meet people. It’s Sylvia’s way to assert power over us. Do you really think she’d invite people who will readily befriend us?”

“Well, I believe the best way to handle this is through grace, not by… refusing to dress properly and scowling for the entire time,” Aida sits beside Aisha, folding their hands together. “We’ll prove to Sylvia that we can enjoy ourselves, in spite of the circumstances. She can’t deprive us happiness unless we let her.”

Aisha purses her lips as Aida’s words sink in. It’s rare that her vivacious sister displays such insight, even if she knows that Aida is far from stupid. And Aida does make a compelling argument, when she listens to her mind over her heart.

Except…

“I don’t like people, nor do I like dancing. I won’t enjoy myself at this ball anyway.” Aisha complains.

A bright peal of laughter escapes Aida.

“No wallowing allowed—that’s my job. Remember that it’s our birthday, and smile. Now come, let’s find a gown for you.”

Neither of them leave their room until it’s almost time for the ball. Finding a gown for Aisha that they both agreed on ends up taking a few hours: an exhausting back-and-forth process where Aida gives Aisha a gown, only for Aisha to reject each one. Their taste in dress styles and colors are total opposites, so they never seem to reach a consensus.

Finally, they settle on a compromise. Aisha would wear a white gown—one of the few whites that Aida owns—but cover her exposed shoulders and cleavage with her own shawl. When Aida suggests accessories, Aisha reluctantly accepts a pair of sapphire earrings since she doesn’t own jewelry herself.

“You’re like a fairy godmother.” She comments offhandedly, putting the earrings on.

“What’s a fairy godmother?”

Earrings in place, Aisha moves on to choose a set of gloves. “Someone who uses magic to make girls pretty for balls. Although, you’re definitely doing this against my will.”

“Do fairy godmothers get to dress up and attend balls?”

“Not usually.”

“Oh. How boring. They should enjoy themselves too.” Aida muses, patting rouge onto her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be the most beautiful fairy godmother at the ball.”

Ultimately, Carlo is the one who comes to their door. The door knob rattles as he tries to open it, but luckily Aisha had locked their door while they were changing.

Soon after, they hear three loud thumps against the door, followed by an insistent, “Aida? Are you in there? The ball is about to start, let’s go!”

Aisha catches Aida’s eye and shakes her head. Aida only smiles, unfazed by—or perhaps accustomed to—Carlo’s pushy demeanor. She checks the mirror one last time, and then she joins Aisha by the door. The scent of roses wafts into Aisha’s senses, thick and intense at this proximity.

Aida had found a rose-scented perfume bottle which once belonged to their mother. She may have applied too much at once, but it’s not like Aisha can tell her to remove it now.

Overpowering floral scents make Aisha dizzy, so she opted for an aromatic scent. She’d washed with regular soap and water, and applied drops of clove-scented perfume. It was pleasant and understated; but most importantly, least likely to attract attention.

Aida slides her bare arm through Aisha’s gloved one. “Shall we?”

She resembles a lush rose, with the pink rouge staining her cheeks, the blood red rouge on her lips, and the gown. Standing beside Aida, Aisha felt plain and young. No one could possibly tell that they were identical twins tonight.

Her sister can take the spotlight. Aisha is perfectly content to remain a wallflower.

“Aida!” Carlo cries out gleefully the moment the door opens, lurching towards them.

Aisha gives him a scathing look as he places an arm around Aida’s exposed shoulder. But of course, with Aida around, Carlo is blind to everything else. He doesn’t acknowledge Aisha, already tugging Aida to walk with him, filling the air with enthusiastic chatter.

George Duncan receives them at the ballroom entrance. Beyond the entryway, voices and laughter float in the air, increasing in volume and intensity as they approach the entryway.

“Good evening to you all. Lady Aisha and Lady Aida, I wish you both a happy birthday.” George says with a shallow bow.

“Thank you kindly, George.” Aida greets back warmly. “We’re not late, are we?”

“Not to worry. You’re right on time. Madam Sylvia is expecting you inside.”

After giving each twin an ivory dance card, he motions them forward.

Carlo frowns as Aida slips the dance card around her wrist. “You should only dance with me.”

“I’m expected to mingle with other guests too, Carlo. But I’ll pencil you in for a quadrille. How does that sound? If you can keep up, I might be persuaded to dance with you for longer.”

The halfhearted promise successfully pacifies Carlo, his face lighting up with hope and determination. “I’ll be your best dance partner of the night. Watch me.”

“Whatever you say.” Aida has lost interest in Carlo; she cranes her neck to look into the ballroom.

Behind them, Aisha is faintly aware that this is the last chance to change her mind. As Aida and Carlo descend the stairs together, she hears applause in their wake—probably Sylvia’s doing. But Aisha is alone, lacking a companion to hold onto. She hesitates at the top of the stairs, high enough to see people mingling together in various groups. Entering the fray herself, under the watchful eyes of strangers, suddenly seems daunting.

Perhaps she should go back to their bedroom. This isn’t something she can handle, especially for her first ever ball. She feels like a fish out of water. Her dance card hangs heavy in her hand.

“Lady Aisha, are you alright?” George’s voice interrupts her scattered thoughts.

Aisha looks up, hoping that her rising distress isn’t obvious. She fumbles for an escape. “Actually, I don’t think I feel too well—”

“Good evening.” A third voice joins them.

Both she and George turn around, equally taken aback by Sein’s appearance.

He always appears with uncanny timing, neatly thwarting her attempt to escape.

George clears his throat, nodding at Sein without speaking. Later, Aisha will wonder about the butler’s uncharacteristically cold attitude towards Sein, not even sparing Sylvia’s second son a greeting like he did earlier. Sein, too, barely acknowledges George’s presence.

The dreadful prospect of walking into a room filled with strangers is her biggest distraction.

“Hello, Aisha.”

Sein’s eyes rake over her from head to toe. Aida might have taken offense, but Aisha is pleased that his eyes don’t linger anywhere. Thank goodness she kept the shawl on.

“You look wonderful. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. You too.”

Sein wears an indigo tailcoat, which is parted to reveal a cream-colored vest and a pleated, white linen shirt underneath, the high collar secured by a brown cravat. A silver, star-shaped brooch is pinned on the lapel of his tailcoat, simple but elegant in design. The black trousers are perfectly tailored to his lower body, emphasizing his narrow hips and the muscle definition in his legs.

Compared to his evening wear, Sein doesn’t seem to have spent much effort taming his hair. Those unruly curls are styled the usual way, having grown long enough to almost conceal one eye.

He looks very good. No doubt he’ll draw eyes from all the eligible women in the ball.

Her desire to escape evaporates when he stands next to her and extends his elbow, a wordless request. She has no choice but to accept it, because the notion of running away in front of Sein deals more damage to her pride than the alternative.

“Is this your first ball?” Sein asks as they descend the stairs. If he’s bothered by her tightening grip on his bicep with each step, he doesn’t complain.

“Yes.” Aisha answers stonily, focusing on a distant point in the ballroom lest she makes eye contact with someone in the room.

“Do you know what to expect?”

“Of course I do. I’ve read about it.” After the maid informed her about Sylvia’s plan, she’d temporarily set aside Hamlet. Instead, she pored over books on ballroom etiquette, though she retained little, based on her anxious state of mind.

Sein laughs, soft enough for her to hear. “Right, I should have known.”

“If you have recommendations or suggestions on how to navigate through a ball without risk of ruining your reputation, I’d like to hear them.”

“It sounds like you already know more than me, to be honest. What more can I contribute to the subject?”

“There’s always more to learn.” Aisha insists, letting go of his arm once they reach the ground floor. Sein folds both hands behind his back, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

“I suppose that’s true. Let’s see… Are you good at dancing?”

“I can dance, though I don’t necessarily enjoy it.”

“Alright. If you’d like to avoid socializing, then dancing is the best way to occupy yourself. Fill your dance card with names—which won’t be difficult for a lady of your standing—and dance the night away.”

Aisha bites her lip, anxiety swelling as she imagined numerous men approaching her to ask for a dance. Between exhausting herself mentally through socializing, and physically through dancing, she isn’t sure which is the lesser evil. Sein seems to believe in the latter.

However, dancing comes with conversations too; maybe not during jaunty and fast-paced dances like the quadrilles and polkas, but waltzing?

“This is new, seeing you so nervous.”

Sein’s astute observation wounds her ego. But how can she refute him when he’s right?

“I have your mother to thank for that. If her goal is to push my buttons, she’s been quite successful.” Aisha admits. If her real mother were still around, she wouldn’t face this predicament feeling woefully unprepared. Times like these remind her that Aida is the older sister, and with her gone, Aisha is stranded alone.

“I’d apologize on my mother’s behalf, but I sense that I’ll never stop once I start,” Sein says wryly, glancing around the room. “When in doubt, you can also follow Aida’s lead. She’s talking to a few gentlemen. She looks quite happy.”

“Aida is a special case. I’m more wary of strangers.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”

She fights against the urge to glare at him. In such a public setting, she has to control her expressions. “Please don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’d like to make some new lady friends.”

Sein doesn’t respond immediately. He stares at the dancing card clenched in her fists for a few moments. Then, as though arriving at a decision, he straightens his posture.

“Are you tired of my company yet?”

“If you have something else to share, just say so.” Half-expecting him to comment on her ballroom etiquette and inadvertently wear on her nerves further, Aisha’s nowhere near ready for what he says next.

“May I put my name on your card for the first dance?”

“What?”

Sein repeats the request, but its meaning is still lost on her. “Family members are allowed to dance with each other,” he adds. “Aida probably has Carlo’s name on her card as well.”

Aisha fumes at his choice of words. “We’re not family.”

Because perceiving him as an older sibling is sickening. It would imply acceptance of him and his family, something that will never happen as long as Sylvia was alive, slowly but surely eating away at the Dimoche family’s wealth and reputation, a living parasite.

Her anger only deepens his amusement. “Then dancing with me shouldn’t be an issue. Just the first dance, and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

Oh, how she yearns for the chance to throttle him. Or split his head open so that she can finally study his thoughts.

No one but Sein produces this infuriating effect of simultaneously aggravating and bewildering her. He seems so keen on dancing with her, but why? An errant glance around the room reveals that a number of young women are looking in their direction, though of course they’re interested in Sein, not her. They want his name on their dance cards. He doesn’t lack for choice, and yet he wants to dance with Aisha first.

All these years living under the same roof, and yet she’s learned little about Sein’s true character. She only knows that he doesn’t regret cutting her palm open, and that he won’t hesitate to do it again if she crosses the line again.

After all these years, Aisha knows better.

“Are you going to be violent if my answer doesn’t please you?”

Something flickers across Sein’s face, too fast to be identified. Once he catches onto the hidden question, he brandishes both hands. “What do you take me for? Do I seem so wretched to you?” There’s a bitterness to his light tone.

She takes a few more moments to decide. It takes less time to write down Sein’s name for the first dance.

By the time she realizes that the first dance is a waltz, it’s too late to erase Sein’s name from her dance card. The dance doesn’t start for another while, so Sein leaves her, looking far too pleased with himself. Just as Aisha predicted, he’s quickly swarmed by a group of women, their colorful finery clustering around his tall and dark figure.

Staying near the center of the room makes her uncomfortable, so Aisha takes refuge in the corner of the ballroom. It provides the best vantage point and hiding spot, where she can bide her time until it’s time to dance.

Finding Aida proves easy. Her silver hair is lustrous under the chandeliers, eye-catching from a distance. While Aisha has braided her hair into a high bun, Aida wears her hair loose so that it catches the light with each movement. Deliberate or not, her older sister possesses the innate talent to catch attention.

Carlo hovers around Aida, as usual. But the gentlemen surrounding Aida seem equally intent on putting their names onto Aida’s dance card. They’re unfazed by Carlo’s intimidating size and stature, too struck by Aida’s beauty to pay him much heed.

Aisha has to admire Carlo’s steadfast determination—his eyes don’t stray from Aida once. He may be annoying and intrusive, to the point of disrespecting Aida’s privacy, but he’s also loyal. Like a puppy. Aida’s own puppy.

It’s quite pathetic.

“Hello Miss Aisha.”

Nemo appears beside her. He looks ill at ease, which she surmises is due to his timid nature.

“Good evening, Nemo.” Aisha says politely. Nemo is probably the least annoying person now, compared to his older brothers. He hasn’t done anything to aggravate her in recent years, so there’s no reason for her to be hostile towards him.

Nemo doesn’t immediately answer as he follows Aisha’s line of sight.

“Miss Aida looks like she’s thoroughly enjoying herself.” He says in the hesitant tone that he’s never quite outgrown since boyhood.

Aisha watches how Aida throws her head back with laughter at something someone said. “She is, yes.”

“Can I ask why you’re not mingling?”

“Conversation topics among women my age are strictly limited to fashion and marriage prospects, neither of which pique my interest. On the other hand, conversing with men doesn’t allow me the freedom to express myself plainly, because they always expect women to be simpler creatures than we really are.”

Moreover, most of the men she knows are downright unpleasant company, and her experience gives her little faith in men outside of her small social circle. Aisha folds her gloved hands together.

“You may think I'm jaded, but I’d just rather not waste my time and energy on short-lived relationships.”

Nemo is silent for so long that Aisha wonders if she’s scared him off for good. To her surprise, he speaks up.

“So if you had to choose, you’d still prefer the company of women over men?”

“If I were forced to socialize, yes. But I’m also content to observe. I want to save my energy for dancing later.”

“Oh. Do you have dance partners already?”

“Just one. Sein insisted that I reserve the first dance with him.”

Nemo shifts his weight from one leg to the other. He suddenly seems nervous; well, more nervous than usual.

“I’d like to share a dance with you as well, if you’d have me.”

And isn’t that a surprising offer, especially coming from Nemo of all people. “I thought you’d like to dance with Aida?”

“I believe that Miss Aida is already spoken for. Carlo would also cause a scene if I were to approach her anyway. Mother says I should dance with at least ten women tonight… I think if I could dance with you first, then I’d build up the courage to ask other women later.”

So his ultimate goal is to please Sylvia. Her immediate response is to turn him down, but Aisha mulls over the offer.

Dancing with one Durant son is already ridiculous. Dancing with two of them feels excessive, a direct giveaway that Aisha lacks for dance partners beyond those in her circle—which, to be fair, she is lacking. Whatever will come next, Carlo to bluster into her corner and make an offer himself? If that’s the case, Aisha won’t hesitate to say no.

But this is Nemo, the quietest and often forgotten son. And yet, he still acts out of blind obedience towards Sylvia, as though his unkind mother will finally notice him if he can dance with ten women. Aisha doubts that Sylvia will notice, let alone be happy to see her own sons mingling with her stepdaughters.

She can understand why Sein offered; he finds great pleasure in aggravating her. However, Nemo still retains his innocence, despite surpassing Aisha in height and stature long ago. He hasn’t done wrong to her, but he hasn’t done her any right, either.

“Fine. I can dance with you,” Aisha allows, skimming over the dance card. “The first quadrille.” Because God forbid she waltzes with another man.

Nemo nods eagerly, his shoulders slumping as though a massive weight has been lifted.

“Yes, of course, that would be perfect. Thank you, Miss Aisha.”

Aisha sighs, carefully penciling in Nemo’s name onto her card. “I should thank you as well.”

“Actually… if you’d like, I can introduce a few of my acquaintances to you. I’m sure they would love to dance with you as well.”

That’s another surprise. She’s always assumed that he spends the majority of his days locked in the drawing room.

He probably senses her surprise. “I met them at art exhibits in town. They’re nice people. Passionate about art. Some of them have commissioned me for pieces before.”

The mental image of Nemo engaging with strangers gives Aisha pause. It appears that her perception of him has been outdated for quite some time. Her cheeks grow warm, and she lowers her head so that Nemo wouldn’t see the extent of her guilt and embarrassment.

Not for the first time since she set foot into the ballroom, the urge to escape fills her anew. But she can’t escape now. She needs to play along to Sylvia’s game until the end, and Nemo presents an undeserving chance for her to pass time quickly.

So, her pride sufficiently battered, Aisha accepts his suggestion.

As Nemo promised, his acquaintances are nice and sociable. With something to occupy her restless mind, Aisha relaxes. Some men are already married, or betrothed to another, so she doesn’t need to worry about putting on airs before them. Although the conversations are centered around the arts, she’s still able to contribute her opinions, based on art history books that she’s read.

As the dance program draws near, Aisha’s dance card is filled to a respectable degree. The dread of socializing and dancing has lulled. If she pretends that Nemo isn’t there, that Sylvia’s shrill laughter doesn’t echo in her ears every so often, that the flashes of Aida’s pink gown in her periphery are illusions, then she would enjoy herself fully.

But Nemo is there. Sylvia is making rounds to curry favor with all the attending nobles. And her sister is a constant reminder that she can’t let down her guard.

The orchestral music transitions into a slow, mellow waltz, signifying the start of the dance program. Aisha joins the women standing on one side, heart sinking as she sees Sein take his place opposite of her.

His eyes meet hers, and he inclines his head to her in silent acknowledgement. He seems unaffected by the crowd. Aisha loosens her grip on her gown, hoping that her expression is neutral.

They step forward in time with the music. It’s a lighthearted waltz that she learned a while ago.

It just involves a fair bit of physical contact. Practicing with Aida as her partner is easy, sometimes even fun. Aida always took the chance to tease, tickling her ribs, poking her waist, hugging her close instead of holding her at arm’s length as required. The instructor scolded them numerous times, but Aida couldn’t be stopped. Aisha didn’t take the dance lessons too seriously either, so Aida’s antics never bothered her.

Sylvia loves to keep up with appearances, therefore it’s a given that she also enrolled her sons in dance lessons. Whether they know how to dance properly is a separate matter entirely. Her stepmother’s reputation would suffer if none of her sons, as aristocrats, could dance well.

So far Sein hasn’t stepped on her foot, which is promising. Aisha stifles a flinch when he places his hand against her waist, barely remembering that she has to put her hand on his shoulder.

She straightens her spine, fixes her gaze on his nose, her lips a neutral line. From a distance and to an untrained eye, they’ll look friendly with each other. Siblings who enjoy each other’s company.

“Enjoying the ball?” Sein asks, displaying no discomfort at their physical contact and proximity.

“It’s tolerable.”

“Met any prospective husbands yet?” His tone drops slightly.

She rolls her eyes. “I could ask you the same.”

“The answer would be no.”

“Your mother hasn’t matched you with other noble women yet? I find that hard to believe.”

His grip on her hand tightens until it almost hurts. “My mother doesn’t intervene in my affairs. I choose whom I’ll marry.”

If it were her, and if Sylvia really tried to marry either her or Aida off, Aisha doubts that she gets a choice. He’s a man, so he can be stubborn without consequences. How fortunate. How unfair. He can find work as a piano teacher, even venture out of the estate on his own, explore Smod Street without a chaperone, and goodness knows what else he’s done.

All she has is her books, but books only describe experiences to a limited extent. For instance, the romance books don’t delve into how loud these balls can be. How hot and stifling the air is, with the amount of people breathing and talking and laughing all at once. They don’t mention how close you are to your dance partner, how you feel the heat of his hand and are torn between two urges: to push him away and run off, or to clench your jaw and pretend that you don't feel anything at all.

It’s only the first waltz, and she’s already exhausted.

“No woman has piqued your interest?” She asks, mostly to distract herself until the waltz is over.

“One has, though not because of this ball.”

“You’ve met her before?”

“Yes, I have.”

She waits for him to divulge more, but he merely smiles down at her.

“So you’re acquaintances?” Aisha pushes.

“It’s complicated.” Sein guides her into a spin. For a moment, the chandeliers and shiny faces around them blur away. Then all too soon, his hand returns to her waist, and she finds small relief that he can dance and lead well.

“She doesn’t reciprocate?”

Sein doesn’t immediately respond. His eyes linger, like they’re searching for answers on her face.

“I don’t know. I hope she does. She may not be aware of my affections yet.”

“Isn’t it more fitting to dance with her first, then?” Aisha makes a point of glancing at the other couples. “You didn’t have to dance with me. Is she here?”

“She is.”

“Have you asked her to dance yet?”

“Of course. She accepted.”

“Good for you.”

“Enough about me. What about your other dance partners? I assume your card is full.”

Aisha shakes her head. “Unfortunately I’m not as popular as you might think. But yes, I have secured a few other dance partners. Most of them are Nemo’s friends, including Nemo.”

“How nice of him.” Though Sein doesn’t sound complimentary in the slightest, mouth twisting into a sneer.

“He’s been quite kind to me this evening. I do feel a bit remorseful for treating him poorly when we were younger.”

Sein hums. “Only a bit?”

“He is still related to Sylvia.”

“Ah. So an outsider, even though we’re family by marriage.”

“I’ve never considered any of you as my real brothers,” Aisha reminds him. “I’m sure you don’t see me and Aida as your real sisters, either.”

“Fair enough. And I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Sein leans forward, closer than needed, breath tickling her face. “You’re no sister to me.”

His admission chases a shiver up her back. It sounds like a finality, like she’d confirmed something he’s waited for.

The waltz ends sooner than expected. Sein doesn’t let go of her hand until they’re about to leave the dance floor. Right before she can slip away, he turns her palm up to press his lips on the center. Through the glove, above the scar.

The tremors in her hand persist, long after he pulls away.

#aisha manhua #aisha #sein #aisha/sein #fanfiction #ao3 #ongoing #chapter 4 #cloud castles

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