#I feel like a more succinct answer would have been... one day I met my soulmate One True Pair OTP

[twilight-deviant]

How did you take fancy to the ship fiskmatt?

Heh. There's a semi-long answer to this? If you want the rolling snowball of reasons.

I'll confess I had next to no familiarity with Daredevil before the Netflix series premiere in 2015. I knew it existed, and I may have seen some of the 2003 movie. Buuuuuut I have long been a fan of Vincent D'Onofrio. So I went into DD (when it was still realistic and expected to watch all Marvel projects) most excited about whomever Vincent's character was going to be. (Hearing his voice at the end of 1x01 and then seeing him at the end of 1x03 made me happy.)

I ramble about that because it set a stage of increased odds that I would probably:

Love Vincent's character most. (Still true.)

Be most invested in a ship with his character. (Fisk/Vanessa is probably my second fav DD ship after Fisk/Matt.)

Then I watched Daredevil, and no ship reeeeeeeally caught my fancy (outside of Fisk/Vanessa). I liked Matt/Karen for the Pilot before my interest immediately fell off. It was then replaced by Foggy/Karen and their sweet B-plot in 1x02. (btw, I think canon abandoning this relationship was a big dumb mistake.)

So I passively thought to myself, "Eh, not every show needs a ship, and the plot of this one is more than enough to keep me entertained."

And then episode 1x06 happened.

Fisk decided to talk to the Man in the Mask on the radio, and at 90mph, my thoughts went from, "I have no DD ship" to "Eeh! My ship is going to speak to each other!" to "......My ship?"

It was very odd. Haha. As if I had been shipping them the whole time but forgot to tell myself. (Is that what makes a person's soulmate OTP? THE one true pair? They were out there, you just hadn't met yet.) It was only after that scene and episode that I began putting more thought into the FiskMatt ship. Because it genuinely had not occurred to me before.

I always love a good hero/villain ship, and FM is goooooood. S1 is a really great time to get into the ship because they push the "two sides of the same coin" bit and push it hard. They are the same, except where they are exactly opposite. In hero/villain shipping, this is such a holy grail yin/yang dynamic.

I also enjoyed a lot of their dialogue, of course. Fisk's strong and immediate respect for Matt that he voiced in their radio call.

(My soul left my body at this line. ^^^ It's been almost 10 years, and I'm still not over it. Other hero/villain ships WISH they could have something so beautiful and profound to look back on.)

I know that's an unnecessarily long answer when the truth is just, "One minute I didn't ship them, the next minute I was obsessed." But it feels relevant to say the whole of S1 had a big impact to me. Their relationship and its potential checks almost every box for what I could want out of a ship. (One of the only things it's missing, imo, is more time spent together, on screen and in comics.)

S2 only had the one scene with them, but it was everything to me and I was so excited for it, I had to pause my tv before Matt entered the room and compose myself. My family watching the show with me was like "wtf just play it?" (Did I upload that S2 scene to youtube so I can watch it whenever I want? Yeah, maybe. I uploaded the radio scene as well, but Disney copyrighted it. I can't share, but I still watch it privately.) I also loved that Matt put Fisk in prison at the end of S1, but the man was still so utterly respectful and taken with the blind attorney. Until that scene. ^-^; Before Matt threatened Vanessa, Fisk had a little crush on him. Change my mind.

Then S3 went back to S1 basics (with Born Again set to do the same next year). Centering Fisk and Matt's relationship because it's undeniably the lifeblood and success of the series. Fight me. The show puts so much focus on the two characters individually (more than other main characters) while also super-charging the tension of their interactions. Every time they speak is so impactful and memorable.

Sometimes, I feel like a crazy person because how am I and a dozen other people the only ones shipping this??? How are there not hundreds of fics on AO3? (I don't want to say it's because Fisk is unconventionally attractive because I try not to push assumptions like that on other people. I hate when Matt/Foggy shippers assert the only reason people don't ship them is fatphobia. 1. Eff off. 2. I'm overweight. 3. I just like their platonic friendship. At the same time though... Fisk's appearance and age are probably part of it? Right?) But idk... I kind of like the coziness of my rarepair. I like being at the perceived center of the ship. Haha. I like when I wake up to someone that just discovered FiskMatt and my inbox is 30 kudos left on various fics.

That said... I'm curious if Born Again might awaken new people to take a fancy to the ship. X3

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # something tremendous.

word count. 1k. genre. brainrotted scenario. potentially platonic or romantic.

overview. life at the akademiya was never what you wanted it to be. you didn't just want to read and report, you wanted to learn, to experience. all it took was sitting through one of tighnari's lectures to spark this into a brand new life.

author's note. i planned to entirely trash this fic, but at the request of @duckymcdoorknob , i finished it and am now posting it. perhaps not the best example of my plot-generating potential, but if you just wanna hang out with tighnari for two minutes, this lil fic is for you.

Tighnari’s goal had always been to train you, to do his duty as a Forest Watcher and instructor to pass on his knowledge to yet another rookie in the rainforest. As for taking you on as his apprentice, he hadn’t exactly foreseen it, but it was necessary and reasonable. The fondness he grew for you, unlike that which he’d had for anyone before you, however, was far from what he might have predicted.

He met you on one of the days he requested to give a lecture on a Forest Watcher's duties, after which you approached him with a question. An innocent question, indeed, but not a common one. “Master,” you said, “is there any chance you might teach us about more complex herbal medicines in future sessions?”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps I must clarify. You do realize, young scholar, that my specialty lies in botany and ecology, not pharmaceutical sciences, don’t you? Anything I may have mentioned during my talk was only to illuminate differences between species, as well as highlight practical uses of common ones.”

“I realize this, yes,” you said, “but your knowledge already surpasses that which I have accumulated during four years of study.”

“Is that so?”

You nodded briefly. “I studied medicine at the Akademiya, but found it all a bit cold and detached. As interested as I am in the subject, I cannot learn under such underwhelming conditions. Friends referred me to you and your practices, advising me that if I didn’t like libraries and desks I would be better off in the rainforest cleaning statues of bird feces.”

Tighnari lightly sucked air in through his teeth at this. “Your friends may not have meant well by such counsel.”

You tilted your head, as if such a thing hadn’t occurred to you. “Perhaps not. But I cannot believe that, because of how I enjoyed your lecture.” You shook your head, smiling assuredly. “No, I am quite sure they knew this would be best.”

“And you are interested in herbal medicine?”

You shrugged. “It’s what I have the most background in. But… really, I feel as if I could be interested in anything, if I were to learn it from you.”

Such a comment of flattery—of interest—was hardly rare, but there was something grappling about the way you had sat through his lecture, hanging on every word as if it might change your life… The Forest Watcher scrutinized your expression, looking for any hint of ill-intent. Satisfied to find none but a sparkle of curiosity, he laughed. “Alright, then. I suppose we’ll meet again soon.”

“Master, you haven’t answered my question!”

“You’ll find out the answer soon enough.”

The following morning, you found an envelope addressed “to the young scholar,” below which was your name, and inside, a succinct letter requesting your presence that afternoon for an “herb-securing excursion.”

From there, you went from a new pupil to an apprentice… to a dear friend. You managed to shed the title of “young scholar” quickly enough, as your remark upon how similar your ages most likely were had been met with an obliging “you may be right” — but you did not escape, nor intend to escape, the seniority he held over you. You remained a humble and dilligent apprentice, striving first to learn and second to lessen his workload in ways that you could.

Once, a quarrel broke out between the two of you because of this secondary habit of yours. He was just arriving home, the sun barely disappeared behind the hill, and you were tending to the greenery just outside his hut.

“As my apprentice, I know you take on as much as you can to learn. But you must stick to your own duties.”

“You’re tired, Master,” you pleaded. “I see it every day when you finish with everyone, when you finally drop your mask at the doorway of your own home.”

“It means I’ve worked myself hard enough. It isn’t something for you to be concerned with.”

“I just want to help, Tighnari. I just want to repay you somehow.”

Tighnari’s chest tightened and he gazed at your earnest expression. People like you were the people that made it worth it. People like you were the reason he could hold it together, and love his job. “I think that means you’ve learned all I can teach you.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out.

“Would you like to take on a full Ranger position? I won’t pester you so much anymore, and you will be able to declare your own responsibilities. Gandharva Ville is in need of a nurse.”

You drew your mouth into a line, processing. He was offering you a position, but at the same time… “Are you trying to get rid of me? You’re going to station me in the village and forget about me?”

Tighnari shook his head, a green twinkle in his eye. “No, of course not. You would come along on our excursions. You would take on the role of tending to fellow rangers as well as anyone we may encounter who is in need of care.”

You gasped. “R-really? Tighnari, you mean that?”

He smiled gently. His soft ears flattened sideways, and you knew he was in earnest. “Yes. Now, leave my plants be, as I prefer to tend to them myself, and get a good night’s sleep. You’ll start tomorrow.”

You smiled widely at him, feeling relieved and elated.

“Hurry along now. Don’t gawk, Forest Nurse.”

You bowed out and walked along the path to the hut you were staying in. This was far from what you had expected your life to become; and he was far from the person you thought you would form such a respect for. You paused under a lampstand, and turned around once more to catch one more glance of him.

Tighnari was tending to his plants as he had said, leaned over to inspect the stem of a flower. He seemed to sense your eyes on him, and turned his head up the path. He sent you an encouraging, perhaps expectant, smile.

You briefly smiled back and turned back to your walk. Something told you that this was only the beginning of something tremendous.

thanks for reading! reblogs are always appreciated :)

[voraciousvore]

Boarding School for Giants (23/25)

------ Chapter 23 ------

I felt like I had made a terrible mistake. My heart was crushed into dust, and I had pulverized Joey’s in the process. I could hardly stand to face him again after what I had so cruelly inflicted upon him. How could I do such a thing to him, to sweet, innocent Joey? Did he comprehend where I was coming from, how I felt? He saw me in the hospital after I had been injured at the hands of the giant principal, so he must understand at least to some extent. Not to mention he witnessed me nearly get eaten at the diner. I hoped he would understand. 

The night was long, and I didn’t sleep well. I was tossing and turning all night, and when I did manage to sleep I had troubled dreams. I had nightmares of green eyes and carnivorous teeth, giant hands crunching my bones, being swallowed alive. I faced the next day with a pit of dread in my gut and stark reflections in my head. I showered and dressed, as usual, and packed up my backpack, bringing my new laptop with me. I went outside to wait for Joey, wondering what I could possibly say to him to make things right, to soften the blow from last night. I started to wonder if he would even stop by to pick me up on his way to school, or give up and abandon me, and my chest tightened with shame. I felt even worse when I saw his lofty figure coming towards me from afar, chiding myself for ever thinking he would ignore me. 

The giant came up and stood over me stiffly, not speaking. I glanced up at him, then opted to sheepishly examine his immense shoes on either side of me instead. I felt smaller than ever. Finally, he crouched down and silently offered me his hand in a conciliatory gesture. I hesitantly climbed into his palm, still too ashamed to look him in the face. As he stood up and began walking, I mustered up the courage to stare him in the eye and have an honest conversation with him again.

“Joey, I wanted to apolog-” I began. 

“No,” he interrupted, “You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.” I met his soft chocolate eyes with mine, confused. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

He took a heavy breath. “I... acted on pure emotion last night, with no regard to your feelings. I’m sorry for just running off like that. I should have considered what was best for you, not what I would want personally.” His statement was succinct, but eloquent. “I want you to be my girlfriend, but not if it means you’re not making the right choice for yourself.” His lips quivered. “I don’t want you to be hurt because of me.” 

“Aww, Joey...” I said, “I don’t blame you for how you reacted. It was completely understandable under the circumstances. Keep in mind, I still haven’t made a decision yet. So, I might still choose to stay.” 

“R-really?” Joey stammered hopefully. 

“Yeah,” I answered, sounding more optimistic than I felt. Internally I had a weight crushing me down, the weight of a terrible choice. I glanced over at the new watch strapped to my wrist. It was a reminder of the danger I faced, but also a link to the man who could become my father. I was deeply conflicted. 

We went to the cafeteria for breakfast, where Stephanie and a couple of her friends were eagerly waiting for us. “Eren!” she sang when she spotted me, bobbing up and down with manic energy, “I have some people here who want to meet you!” Her two friends smiled awkwardly. Joey collected our food and sat down at the table with all the giantesses, keeping me close to himself on the table. 

“This is Lucy,” Stephanie said, pointing to a busty redhead with a comely face. “And this is Selena.” The other girl was darker in complexion, with silky black hair that cascaded down her shoulders. 

“Hello,” I greeted them, offering my hand for a finger handshake. I was proud of myself for not shrinking back or shaking when introduced to new giant people. Lucy offered me a firm digit with an elegant gleaming nail to shake. Selena was shyer, but with some encouragement from Stephanie she timidly gave me her limp finger, with a dull nail chewed down to the nub. 

We chatted for a few minutes, with mostly Stephanie and Lucy gabbing on while Selena stayed quiet. Soon enough the bell rang, and Joey chauffeured me to my first class, which was math. I was confounded to see that by some miracle I had passed my math test from Monday with a B-, despite my back being bruised and flayed when I took the test. 

The teacher decided to split us into groups to do sample problems. I felt panicky at this development, thinking I would be forced to approach a group of intimidating giants, or be ignored and get in trouble with the teacher for not having a group. However, I was pleasantly surprised to find that several of the giant students were eager for the chance to approach and get to know me, since most of them had never talked to a human before and were curious. In a twist I didn’t expect, the class period was actually a lot of fun. I made new friends while learning math simultaneously. 

What was going on? Was I going native, turning into a nerd like Joey? I supposed such a transformation wouldn’t be a bad thing. Plus, people were being nice to me, and I was making friends! What a great bonus! On top of that, I was happy, even content. The feeling only bloomed more when the bell rang and Joey magically appeared by my side to whisk me away to my next class. I was relieved that the awkwardness from this morning between us seemed to have dissipated, and he was recovering from the shock of the emotional blow from last night. 

My next class was English. Since I had done the homework assignment from Monday, I at least had an idea of what was going on this time. I had missed Wednesday’s class, so I was a little lost, but I caught up quickly. We had a test today so I got the chance to use my laptop’s camera function to scale up my finished test and email it to the teacher to grade. The process went smoothly and I was pleased with the results. Other than that, the class was uneventful, and soon enough the bell rang for lunch, summoning a loyal, grinning Joey to my side. I eagerly jumped into his hand, holding his thumb for support. 

Joey stroked me with his thumb, and opened his mouth to say something when suddenly he was shoved into the wall. He grunted as his shoulder slammed up against the solid surface and shielded me with his hands as best he could, so I wouldn’t get hurt. I bounced against his fingers but was left unscathed. Joey groaned and curled his body around me instinctively to protect from another attack. 

“So, the nerd thinks he has himself a girlfriend,” a repugnant voice snarled. I knew that vile voice, and my stomach dropped. Drake. The giant brute grabbed Joey’s shoulder and flipped him back against the wall violently, pinning him down with a muscled arm. With me in the protective cage of his fingers, clasped against his torso, Joey couldn’t fight back. He grimaced in pain while the taller, stronger giant sneered down at him. Drake’s icy blue eyes drifted down to me; he glared at me with a rapacious leer that chilled me down to the marrow of my bones. 

“Hey there, baby. I missed you,” he sneered. I recoiled in disgust, a feeling that only intensified when he winked at me and licked his lips hungrily.  

“Stop it,” Joey rasped through his physical discomfort, his glasses askew on his face. Drake’s blue eyes hardened into shards of ice when he glanced back up at Joey. 

“Oh yeah?” Drake said. “And what are you gonna do to stop me?” He pressed his full weight into his thick arm on Joey’s chest, making the poor boy wheeze as he struggled to breathe. I could only watch in horror, powerless to stop him. 

“That’s right. Nothing,” Drake growled. Those eyes, cold as glaciers in the Arctic, rotated back down to me. Drake reached over with his free hand, huge and menacing, and wrenched apart Joey’s fingers. I shrieked in terror as he pried me out of Joey’s hands. Joey tried his best to resist, but then went limp, defeated. The giant bully threw him to the ground and kicked him in the belly, sniggering. Joey coughed and retched, crunching up in agony. 

“Help! Hel-” I screamed, but Drake covered my mouth with his finger to shut me up and clenched his fist around me tighter. 

“None of that,” he scolded. “You’re my girlfriend now, and you’ll do as I say. Or else.” His threat made me cease my squirming as I froze up under his chilling gaze. There was nothing I could do. Nothing. I could resist, fight back, bite his fingers, curse him out, but he would simply crush me in his fist like the tiny creature I was. Or do something worse, something unthinkable. I shuddered, feeling hopelessness drip into my heart. Joey couldn’t protect me from every horror in this world. 

“Let her go!” a shrill voice cried. Stephanie! The giant finger covering my mouth loosened momentarily from the distraction; I writhed and twisted my head around to see Stephanie with her big group of giantess friends. 

“Stephanie, help me!” I screeched before I was engulfed in the giant’s fist again. Drake gave me a painful warning squeeze and I became rigid with fear. 

“Let her go! Let her go!” several giantess voices chanted. Drake was suddenly surrounded by a crowd of students in the hallway, outnumbered. My new friends I made in math class had joined in too. “Let her go! Let her go!” The frenzied mob closed in and Drake took a step back, stumbling over Joey’s body collapsed on the floor. He backed up to the wall and shrank down, as if the crowd were draining his power away. He was plainly unsettled by all the unwanted attention that had disrupted his plans to clandestinely steal me away. 

Finally, Drake scowled. “Fine.” He reluctantly reached out his fist and deposited me in Stephanie’s waiting hands. “Bitches,” he muttered, and scurried off in disgrace. The crowd of students cheered. I sighed in relief, slumping into the giantess’s hand. A couple of students helped a battered Joey back up to his feet, propping him up against the wall until he could regain his footing on his own. He groaned, straightened out his clothes, and wiped strings of saliva and bile off his chin from his gagging fit. 

“Thank you,” I said, feeling the tears run down my face. “Thank you so much.” That situation could have become so much worse if she hadn’t shown up. 

Stephanie grinned. “What are friends for, after all? We’ll always have your back!” I looked around at all the giant faces around me, some familiar, such as Lucy and Selena, and some new. I had friends. I had people who cared about me and wouldn’t let me fall. I wiped up my tears and smiled. “Let’s get some lunch!” Stephanie shouted in a rallying cry, raising her fist, and the group of students hollered in agreement and charged into the lunchroom, full of victorious energy from their conquest. 

Rather than follow her friends, Stephanie turned to Joey, who was still recovering from the beating he had endured. He gripped his midsection with one hand, and his eyes looked dead inside, but he was able to stand firmly on his own now. “Here,” she said, handing me back to Joey. She was more understanding of my needs than I initially gave her credit for. “When you two lovebirds are ready, you’re free to join us in the lunchroom.” She skipped off to give us some privacy. 

Joey was burning with shame. “I’m sorry, Eren,” he apologized, massaging the growing bruises on his chest and belly. “I wasn’t able to protect you.” His eyes shined behind his glasses, and I realized he was struggling to hold back tears. 

“It’s okay, Joey,” I reassured him, trying my best to calm him down. “Nothing bad happened to me. I’m not hurt. It’s okay.” 

A pregnant pause. “Maybe... it would be better if you didn’t stay,” Joey said, barely above a whisper, his voice a weakened whine. With that excruciating remark hanging over us, dripping with despair, he trudged into the lunchroom with me in tow, utterly vanquished. 

Next chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731609572688674816/boarding-school-for-giants-2425?source=share

1st chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/voraciousvore/731600430392639488/boarding-school-for-giants-125?source=share

[beta-adjacent]

may i ask for any tips on how to incorporate a/b/o into my life, like nesting or scents? ive looked but i dont see any lists anywhere

Heck yeah you may, dude!!! :D I think it's hard for us to make lists/an official tip guide because everyone's different. What I’ve written below the cut is certainly more of a guided walkthrough of my experience, but I hope you can get something out of it!!

Scents:

I'll be honest, a lot of scent to me is a mind game, haha. I've found myself most connected when I'm walking past a group of people and smell someone else's perfume. They won't know it, but I'll take solace that they're like me-- we both just want to be smelly.

I don't have a "100% official, patent pending" scent, but I do have what I call a "ballpark of olfactory favorability". And really, I created my ballpark by paying attention to what smells I linger on, haha. Realistically, we wouldn't be able to smell ourselves in the omegaverse, but having a scent as a miscecanis is entirely for ourselves. So I don't like to think of my scent as "how others should/would/could perceive me" but rather "how I want myself to perceive me", or even better "what would I like to smell today?". Oftentimes, my own answer to that varies by day, hence my ballpark.

If you've forgotten what smells exist, Poesie and Demeter are two perfume brands I've been recommended. I haven't tried them myself, so I wouldn't be able to comment on their physical quality, but I still think they're worth looking at! Some of the scents I see in those catalogues I never would've thought of on my own.

More succinct suggestions:

If you're able, try to be actively aware of what you smell. When you have a quiet moment, take a deep breath. What do you smell? Is it good, bad, not much of anything? How does it impact you, if at all?

Think, experiment, and explore with the smells around you. What smells do you associate with being happy, sad, angry? What's something you want to smell? If you met your clone, how would you hope they smelled?

For most of us, we won't be able to smell like our scent. If you're able, surround yourself with what you love to smell, even if that doesn't feel like your scent. Sometimes being around what you love has to be enough.

Nests:

I struggle with nests all the time!!! I naturally, constantly crave them while also being extremely picky about them. Sometimes, all I can do is imagine what life will be like when I'm rich enough to build my six story mansion (and what the one floor dedicated to nests would be like), bwahahaha.

I am privileged to have materials that I find comforting and that elevate my nesting experiences. I'm even more privileged to have a space in my living situation that I can experiment with. It's hard to say "just try different things you like!" because many are unable to.

Some general principles in my mind when I nest:

Expand your idea of a nest. While yes, the classic sleeping structure like a bed is The known nesting base, it sometimes doesn’t feel like a nest at all. And it doesn’t have to be! Look for what feels like yours in your life. Maybe it’s your favorite spot on the couch, or your assigned seat in a classroom, or even your favorite oversized hoodie. The point is that it’s yours, even for just an hour, and that you’re allowed to own that space for as long as you have it (including personal space). This isn’t to say you should nest everywhere and be hyper-territorial; it’s to say that a nest is a place where you feel safe and at home and sometimes that’s not physically in your room

If and only if you can, obtain materials that bring you comfort. I'll be honest; the greatest thing I've ever gotten for a nest was leftover pieces of couch foam. I’m always worried I’ll die of dehydration so there’s almost always a emergency bottle of water near my nest. My friends used to have a system where we would trade plushies every night, and that brought us comfort. All of these things bring or once brought me comfort to my daily life, especially when I come home and need a space to decompress. These materials were not bought specifically for nesting and they certainly don’t have to be conventional.

Listen to your needs/wants and prepare for those to conflict/change. For a week, my brain goes “ooh, you should try sleeping under your bed tonight!” Which is crazy because I’ve tried sleeping under beds a thousand times before and it doesn’t go well. But one night I gave in and laid under my bed, and something in me was soothed. And I had to think about why this was working for me mentally but not physically. What I learned was that my brain really wanted distance from an immovable object in my room, and I was able to change my sleeping situation accordingly. Long story short, by humoring my impulses, I was able to learn where my different needs can compromise

If you’re looking more for the logistics of how to build a nest, there actually are quite a bit of nest inspiration and tutorials I’ve seen float around! I think there’s even a nesting tag but don’t quote me on that. I’ll check in my feed and reblog some stuff I’ve found intriguing before

I know a majority of this sounded rather “philosophically preachy”, for a lack of a better phrase. That’s just how the incorporation works in my life now. If there’s anything to take away, let it be this: there’s no “right” or “wrong” way to be miscecanis or partake in the lifestyle, if your heart is respectful and kind to both the community and to yourself. There is no rush, pressure, or limit to how this journey can manifest for you. Do what sounds fun and attainable; ideas are in just about every fic or blog you’ll find!

I sincerely hopes that this inspires you in your journey!!

[bardicbeetle]

odd OC asks!

Moira: 🍋 (What is your OC's most painful memory?)

Jesse: 🍹(Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?)

@flyingbananasaur Fuck it you're getting these like I'm running a roleplay blog because I feel like writing in character.

"Funny ones? God, maybe? Ninety percent of them are depressing as hell, gimme a minute..."

It's not, in fact, a minute.

You probably sit alone at the kitchen table for a good half hour until Moira comes through the front door and sees you there. That's fine, you've got a question for her too.

She makes you a cup of tea (it smells like citrus and...maybe rose? Not quite, a little lighter than that. it's a definitely floral but you can't place it. There is probably an alarming amount of honey in it.) and one for herself (whatever is in her mug smells like cinnamon and smoke, you can't taste it, but you did see her heap just as much honey into it as yours) before joining you at the table with an open sketchbook and a handful of pens.

You ask and she wrinkles her nose a bit.

"Uhhh... I mean, I try not to dwell on that shit. Daniel is the curse my past mistakes, oh what a fool I've been flavor, I'm more the hindsight-is-pointless-keep-moving-forward variety." Despite the words, she shifts a little uncomfortably, letting the sketchbook drop from where it's propped in one hand to flat on the table.

"I guess probably the day I left home. Not in like the sense that it hurt to be there, or it hurt to leave the place itself--but it's hard to think about the fact that it was the last time I saw my family. That it was the last time they saw me and it wasn't even me they were seeing. I dunno, it sucks to think that they've still got an image of me in their memory that isn't anything close to who I am." She smiles a little then, discomfort fading. "I guess that gives you an answer. I'm not much of a stick-around-the-hurting kinda person. I've got too much ahead of me to enjoy to bother with giving much attention or energy to the stuff that sucked."

"I thought of one--" Jesse is back, "--like I said, most of the memorable things are pretty depressing--" Moira suppresses a laugh that gets one of her own pens thrown at her. "--shut up. I--

"--spent the first six solid months of college taking ice cold showers because you thought there was no hot water--purely because there was no separate hot tap. Rich boy problems." Moira sighs dramatically, pretending to faint against the table.

The next pen Jesse throws lands directly in her mug, prompting her to pull the remainder of them into her lap. "Rude." Jesse grumbles, though it's not hostile in the slightest and he's still got a grin splitting his face. "Anyways. We had a proper bounty hunter show up once for one of the--Moira they already know--anyway--Avery, really truly looked like a fucking Texas ranger kinda guy, showed up on a horse. I think we had him convinced the whole household was possessed--" The more Jesse talks, the more evident it becomes that this is not somebody capable of telling a succinct story, at least, not verbally. "It was pretty clear he wasn't going to just, leave, so eventually we talked him into staying to get a death certificate so he could get paid, I got him to let my nieces ride his horse--although to be fair I think Jamie would have found some way to do it regardless of if she got permission--and I actually kept contact with him after he left."

Moira frowns slightly at that. "I didn't know you still heard from Avery."

"Yeah, he wanted help picking off the guys who left him in the desert, including his ex, who was a massive asshole." Jesse looks back over to you, smile soft and a bit apologetic. "I know that wasn't particularly funny, sorry, I'm a little empty on funny."

"You could have picked any of the times you met the other three people who live here, which--as a reminder--include: Immediately offering to fuck Daniel after knowing him for approximately ten minutes, handing me the bullet I used to shoot my old boss and promising me it would look accidental, and basically begging Alex to let you adopt them after--surprisingly long for you--a whole hour." Moira counts these off on her fingers as she speaks, a look caught halfway between confusion and amusement on her face.

Jesse just shrugs, "Pretty sure those are all common knowledge--and if not, now they get them as a bonus from you."

~*~

Goodnight, Quinn

[rcksmith]

Sun — Kaz Brekker

Resume: Feelings are destabilizing things.

A/N: This story is not set in the books of Six Crows, I also changed the age of the characters to twenty-something because the idea of ​​writing something about a child makes me uncomfortable. All my stories, of any characters, are with them being of up age. Just like many fanfics out there in the teen series.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Mention of fight, swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, mention of kiss, mention of desire, desire, mention of death, but so fucking fluff.

Word count: 3k.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There were few things in life that he was absolutely sure of. Things that were immutable, solid, unshakable. That even the strongest of winds would not be able to shake the structure. A life built on the basis of an equation of chaos, suffering, death and despair generated a result where it was necessary to be sure of something. And one of those certainties was the ability of himself, of his instincts, of his intelligence, the notion that he himself was a person capable of resolving any type of situation with iron fists. The second was the certainty of the loyalty of his crows, of the two people who, he knew, would never turn their backs on him.

And the third... the third was that when Kaz Brekker first laid eyes on you, he was sure that you would divide his life between a before and an after.

It was a lepid, ferocious feeling that swept the body of The Bastard of the Barrel from the top of his head to the tip of his polished boots. The heat immediately gave way to a cold sweat, a shiver as if receiving a midnight sigh at the back of the neck. There was a quick sensation of burning in the heat of an icy fire, but his composure did not flinch a single millimeter. He had learned to keep it in all situations, trained with steel fists.

Kaz looked at you deeply, from the top of your hair to the tip of your feet, trying to find answers as to why you had triggered such disturbing sensations with a simple and ridiculous exchange of looks. But he found no answers. He found neither after a day, nor after a week, damn it, he did not find nor after a month!

You had joined the infamous trio because they needed a fighting expert, someone who could defeat a good number of men on her own without needing backup, which would make their bigger and more complex robberies much easier. And when they found you, a girl who had been the subject for a experiment to create super soldiers, your ability to fight, physical endurance, and your sense of loyalty, made you perfect for the job.

But none of that explained why, whenever the stormy blue eyes met yours, he felt like he was ricochet by living eels. It was exasperating, frustrating on so many levels that it was difficult to put into words. Kaz could not expose this misfortune to his two closest people, first because his pride in admitting a disturbance in his subtly balanced world was too great, and second that... even if he considered said that, he would not know how to name those feelings for express what he were feeling.

How would Jesper and Inej understand something that even he did not understand?

Kaz Brekker had a firm and calm demeanor, an implacably logical mind and a way of narrowing his eyes that ensured that his orders were carried out with great efficiency, all according to the moment he wished. Then, just as he did to get rid of any disturbance, he buried those sensations so deeply until, like his overwhelming pains and traumas, they stopped tormenting him.

He thought that, like his flawless and cunning plans, it would have the same effect. That his nerves could get back to normal and he wouldn't have to deal with the feeling that feel hiself whit cold and hot at the same time whenever he laid eyes on you.

But, if it was true that the practice makes perfect, this rule has not been applied in this situation.

The deeper he buried those beginnings of thats sensations, more of them began to flourish, roaring harder, as a constant reminder that he was not that rock of stoicity and absence of feelings that he liked to think he was. It seemed that, just as light existed to exorcise the darkness, you existed to show that he still had a beating heart. Hot blood still coursing through the veins.

It has not helped anything in his cause that, over time, Inej and Jesper have become attache to you. Jesper even more. But if Kaz put aside his frustration and irritation for a second, he would know that he couldn't to blame them. In fact, there was no way to blame every person who approached you, delighted.

Jesper once described you as "the soul of the party", and Inej said that you had fire in your soul. Kaz would not have been able to think of better definitions to put into words what you were. There was thing about the way you laughed, the way you talked, the way your tilting your head and your so easy smile. There was a thing about you. That transformed you into the solar system and people orbited in your gravity like planets.

You had a way with people, Kaz really thought it was a gift, a talent. You were always laughing, smiling, playing with people and making them so comfortable in your presence that, once, Kaz saw a trader, who are in a the middle of a refused to close a contract with Kaz, just melt and give up because of the smile you gave to him.

Nothing from you has been forced, malicious, shrewd or cunning. You really smiled, you really laughed, as if you were...happy. Purely happy. And, in a second of insanity, Kaz wondered if that happiness was possible. If it was possible for him to feel something like this.

But, just as Brekker took his soul close from you as much as he could to avoid any emotion, Jesper did the exact opposite. Very quickly, just like Kaz and Inej are, the two of you became a pair of inseparable friends. Were always together.

Perhaps it was because you two were overwhelmingly alike: Always in the eye of danger, addicted to adrenaline, purely outgoing and liked a good fun. Or maybe it was because, like everyone around you, Jesper felt drawn closer to your warm, joyful and comforting aura.

But whatever it was, the timbre of your laughter followed by Jesper's became a sound as natural as the whistling of the wind. And it didn't take long for you two to become partners in thefts and plans.

However, it didn't take long too for the reactions Kaz had about the influence of your presence to become...louder.

If Kaz Brekker closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, he could still remember and feel that night perfectly as if it were yesterday:

The plan was succinct: They would have to go through guards, high walls and locks to enter a merchant's residence, open the safe, pick up the jewels and leave. Twenty minutes was the time limit to complete that sequence.

Everyone was assigned to one thing: Kaz would turn off a fabricated security system from a Grisha, Inej would sneak into the shadows to the safe and pick up the jewels, and Jesper and you would be responsible for dealing with the various guards. Everyone would have to meet in the corridor that led to the back exit.

Kaz did not think that that so ridiculous and simple plan it could go wrong. Or that someone could make a slip. To him, it seemed as easy as sneaking into a yacht boat. However, there he was, next to Inej who carried the jewelery bag in her hand, both of them standing in that dimly lit corridor, waiting for you and Jesper to appear.

"It's been three minutes!" Inej pointed, as if Kaz didn't already know that.

Her intonation was concerned, apprehensive, with a certain fear. Kaz thought about saying something, but as soon as his mouth opened to say anything, he heard...

Steps. Hurried steps of two people. No, actually, the two people were running.

Suddenly, you and Jesper burst into the corridor, running as if their lives depended on it. Inej and Kaz would have been worried if it weren't for the bastard and peraltas smiles that stretched across faces of you two, stretching their cheeks.

Then Kaz noticed the reason for the delay. You two carried a giant picture under your left arms. Jesper carried the front end and you the back end, like two children who made a mischief and was running from their mother. True accomplices.

Kaz's jaw opened, his eyes widened slightly and roamed the frame with agitated iris, while Inej was totally baffled.

"C'mon, C'mon!" You exclaimed with laughter in your voice, Jesper and you never stopped running.

As soon all left and took shelter in the safety and peace of the Crow Club closed in that night, Jesper and you fell on the couch, laughing and panting.

"What was that?!” But Kaz was exasperated "Do you both know how much risked the plan?!"

"It was only three minutes, Boss." Jesper defended himself.

"It..." That's when Kaz looked at the painting responsible for all the commotion and fuss.

It was a painting, a landscape by Ravka. The fold. In oil on parchment. A DeKappel. That was worth at least ten thousand Kruges.

“You commented that you needed a new painting for your office.” Your voice took Kaz out of the admiration on the painting, and Jesper and Inej looked at you as if they had discovered that now too.

Jesper and Inej thought it was just for the money...

Kaz looked up into your eyes, and the cold, warm shiver spreading across his chest and snaking to his bones. As it always did the moment yours eyes meeting.

He remembered commenting in passing, in a very vague and obtuse way, that he wanted a new painting in the office. Until that moment, Brekker didn't think you paying attention to what he had to say. Not when it wasn't about a job or plan.

But there you were, proving that you had heard. And that you cared.

His breath caught for a second, the icy chill turned to something warmer, like the first sparks of fire in a fireplace. The first flames that precede the fire.

After that, Kaz began to pay more attention, unconsciously, to what you said. And, consequently, he started paying more attention to you. It had been gradual, sneaky as a snake, imperceptible so he wouldn't be able to root it out. As if the universe, destiny or divines, introduced, grain by grain, a small summer in a landscape frozen by winter.

It all started with your comment about liking it sweeter than salty, that dry wine left you with a headache and that you preferred rum. He evolved to notice how your tone of voice got sweeter when you talked to children or animals, and more serious when it came to the safety of the three crows. And suddenly, as if Kaz already knew this as he knew the sky was blue, he knew how to say how your eyes sparkled when you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin.

In that second, looking at you from the other side of the agitated club that turned into a celebration with dance and music, the world became suspended for a moment. The music became just an echoing, blurry noise, the images turned to slow motion and the air seemed to change in pitch. You, who laughed and speen round in Jesper's arms amid so many people who did the same thing, were the only one who starred as the main attraction.

In that minute, when the breath was slow and lyrical, and the air had a beauty tone, Kaz's eyes caught the exact moment when a beam of sunlight hit your face, shining on your skin as if you were one pirate tropical treasure. In a burst, a second of insanity, like a violin string that burst at the apice of the song, he felt that there was nothing else in the world worth seeing that was not you.

It was a scary, terrifying discovery. Something that made him freeze from head to toe, and all the speed in the world came back so fast that Kaz felt dizzy. He pressed his covered hand to the crow's beak of his cane, as if he needed a reminder of reality. Something that would wake him up from those hellish sensations.

- -

The months passed after that fateful afternoon. Kaz avoided staying close to you any longer than necessary and would strongly and vigorously scold every change of tone within himself whenever he saw you.

He didn't know what those sensations meant, but he also didn't want to find out. He liked challenges and responsibilities, but being around you was proving to be more than he could take. Your presence ignited him in a cold and warm fire, promising a future full of unfulfilled infinite wills. From pain, impotence and doomed to failure. Any feeling for you would be more of a punishment than anything else. The only solution was to get it out of your head.

Of course, he had been trying to do just that since he met you.

But again, the universe did not seem to want to give up from he. Not so easily.

Kaz had to take you along to make a deal with a merchant who was more impassable than a rock. Kaz had tried to negotiate with him before (since he couldn't take the strength or rob what he wanted) and all his efforts were in vain. So, he appealed for the last weapon. The person who always had a natural gift whit other people and always had a real smile that made anybody feel like... as if happiness really existed.

You.

"I'm glad it's hot" You commented, while walking next to Kaz "I don’t like the cold."

How did he know that you would say just that? That was so you. Warm, sweet and cozy things were the embodiment of what you were. It was logical that you preferred the heat. So different from him that, instead of you, enjoyed the cold. Liked the rains and storms, relaxed with the moonlight and felt less tense with the midnight winter breeze.

Kaz understood your personality as he understood the very lines of his hands. You were wild, bordering on reckless, you acted before thinking and you always loved anything that aroused adrenaline. You ran like no one else, jumped from one horse's cell to another, decided to catch the largest number of targets just because you wanted the thrill of fighting five against one. Anything calm, serene and peaceful stirred your restless personality. And Kaz knew exactly your level of restlessness from the way your leg was constantly jumping when you had to sit still for more than a few minutes.

You were a free spirit, forged in the heart of the sun and in the heat of summer. While he was limited by his own body and built in the heart of winter and frozen by the cold of the sea. Anything between you was doomed to fail even before you two met. Kaz Brekker knew this very well.

“He is late.” You grunted, your leg was already starting to jumping when you two spent a measly ten minutes waiting for the man.

You looked back and seemed to find it interesting, because Kaz saw your eyes shine.

"Let's go there?" You pointed, and Kaz had to turn around to see that you were referring to a coffee shop.

Crowded with sweets in the window for a change. Why was he not surprised?

“No.” He turned forward again, both hands on the cane.

"So I go over there and come back quickly."

“Y/n" he just said in a warning tone, giving you a scolding look.

You mumbled something he didn't identify, turned around again and did your best to be quiet. Five minutes passed before that merchant arrived, and Kaz can perfectly follow the change in his posture, change in the man eyes when you greeted him with that summer voice and sunny smile.

It was so vibrant, so vivid that, for a second, Kaz found himself slightly swayed by all the brilliance you emanated. Pulled towards your like an animal needing the warmth of the sun.

It didn't take much for the man to sign and agree with everything Kaz said and imposed. In fact, he suspected that if he had asked him to give him his bank password, the man would have been happy to do so.

"Can we go in the coffee shop now?” You commented as soon as the man left, still turning around to look at you as much as possible.

Kaz restrained the glaring urge to roll his eyes, but he had just landed a very lucrative business just and exclusively because you agreed to help. Even though you didn't gain anything from it. So, if he had to go with you to a goddamn coffee shop so he wouldn't feel like a petty profiteer, he would go to the goddamn coffee shop.

Kaz just walked towards the place, and the wide, summery smile you gave may have he missed a few heartbeats.

Stop it!

Once inside the damn store, you scanned the menu that hung on the wall.

“I never took this one.” You commented, pointing to what appeared to be a very sweet mix of drink. Something that involved ice cream and chocolate with something else.

It was not the kind of comment that had an answer, and Kaz was still engaged in the mission to stay away from you. But he thought that statement was just the reason why you wouldn't order that drink. But, just as you always threw any worldview Kaz had in the latrine, you asked for just that. His eyes were bloodshot with astonishment.

“Why are you going to order something you don't know if you like it?” He asked as soon as you got the drink and paid for it.

"How am I supposed to know if something is good if I never try it?” You said casually, both of you going out of the store. “Wanna try out?”

You held out for he the plastic cup that was covered by a lid that had a hole in the middle, where a fat, transparent straw came out. Kaz looked at you as if you had created a second head.

“Come on, you'll never know if you like it if you don't taste it.” The two of you stopped, you still holding the glass gently towards his mouth.

“No.” Kaz shook his head.

“Come ooon.” You insisted, a petulant and amusing smile plastered on your face.

"No."

You shook the glass, holding it out once more. This time, Kaz gave you a slightly annoyed look.

"You're not going to stop insisting until I take this thing, are you?"

You laughed, with a triumphant and friendly smile “I'm glad you know me so well”

Kaz rolled his eyes, snatching the glass from your hand and bringing the hellish straw to his mouth. Hell, he felt so stupid pulling that stupid drink through that straw. As soon as the sweet liquid invaded his tongue, an explosion of flavors flooded his palate, causing him to remain unresponsive for a moment.

"You liked it!" But just as he unveiled all of your lookes, you knew how to unveil all of his.

Kaz handed you the glass. “Absurdly sweet."

"You liked that I know."

You joked and, for a second, you had aroused he a desire to smile. A succinct curve in lips. With your sunny smiles and summer expressions, you looked like you were out of an enchanted forest inhabited by mystical creatures. Sun nymphs. Maybe Kaz would even have let himself go lightly if, when you took the glass back, your lips had not wrapped around the tip of the straw.

Exactly where his mouth was a second ago.

He pulse quickened so fast that it made the blood burn in his veins. It was impossible not to look down at delicate mouth, the subtle but destabilizing curvature in the center of your lower lip. Suddenly, he was out of breath, his body numb and his heart stopped beating for a second before accelerating to an alarming level.

Everything became hot, stuffy. The world spun away, out of focus, out of existence, leading he on a waltz unlike anything Kaz had ever felt before.

Kaz Brekker was the Bastard of the Barrel. Dirty hands and scammer. Someone trapped by his own body and traumas, unable to allow himself to enjoy human contact. But, hell, he was still a man. And in that moment, in that insane moment, he wanted to pretend, even for a few seconds, that what he wanted was within his reach.

Kaz thought he understood the desire: an attraction. He thought he knew what lust was: a wish that people felt. He had seen countless examples on his bar counter, drunk and chattering about what it was like to want a woman, to long for her. He thought he understood.

And he found that he didn't understand anything.

The desire was a hot and feverish whirlwind that shivered he from head to toe, with dizzying speed, and dragged everything towards perdition, below any intellect, any rationality. Rationally, he shouldn't have thought you were even more beautiful. But he did. He shouldn't feel his breath catch, but he did.

He felt as if he were walking on a narrow suspended board. One misstep and it would be the end of it. Hiding his disturbing thoughts, Kaz looked away from you.

He was ruined for the rest of his life.

[pumpkinpaix]

hello there, hope you're having a nice day <3

so i've been reading a lot of fics lately, uk for sanity's sake, and i've noticed that in most of them, lwj doesn't use contractions (eg., says do not instead of don't)?? and i think he doesn't in the novel either but i don't remember lol so i can't be sure but anyway that made me curious - does chinese have contractions as well? does he not use it bc it's informal?

hello there! I’m doing all right, i started to answer this ask while waiting for a jingyeast loaf to come out of the oven 😊 many thanks to @bookofstars for helping me look over/edit/correct this post!! :D

anyways! the answer to your questions are complicated (of course it is when is anything simple with me), so let’s see if I can break it down--you’re asking a) whether chinese has contractions, b) if it does, how does they change the tone of the sentence--is it similar to english or no?, and c) how does this all end up with lan wangji pretty much never using contractions in english fic/translation?

I’m gonna start by talking about how formality is (generally) expressed in each language, and hopefully, by the end of this post, all the questions will have been answered in one way or another. so: chinese and english express variations in formality/register differently, oftentimes in ways that run contrary to one another. I am, as always, neither a linguist nor an expert in chinese and english uhhh sociological grammar? for lack of a better word. I’m speaking from my own experience and knowledge :D

so with a character like lan wangji, it makes perfect sense in english to write his dialogue without contractions, as contractions are considered informal or colloquial. I don’t know if this has changed in recent years, but I was always taught in school to never use contractions in my academic papers.

However! not using contractions necessarily extends the length of the sentence: “do not” takes longer to say than “don’t”, “cannot” is longer than “can’t” etc. in english, formality is often correlated with sentence length: the longest way you can say something ends up sounding the most formal. for a very simplified example, take this progression from least formal to absurdly formal:

whatcha doin’?

what’re you doing?

what are you doing? [standard colloquial]

may I ask what you are doing?

might I inquire as to what you are doing?

excuse me, but might I inquire as to what you are doing?

pardon my intrusion, but might I inquire as to what you are doing?

please pardon my intrusion, but might inquire as to the nature of your current actions?

this is obviously a somewhat overwrought example, but you get the point. oftentimes, the longer, more complex, more indirect sentence constructions indicate a greater formality, often because there is a simultaneous decreasing of certainty. downplaying the speaker’s certainty can show deference (or weakness) in english, while certainty tends to show authority/confidence (or aggression/rudeness).

different words also carry different implications of formality—in the example, I switched “excuse me” to “pardon me” during one of the step ups. pardon (to me at least) feels like a more formal word than “excuse”. Similarly, “inquire” is more formal than “ask” etc. I suspect that at least some of what makes one word seem more formal than one of its synonyms has to do with etymology. many of english’s most formal/academic words come from latin (which also tends to have longer words generally!), while our personal/colloquial words tend to have germanic origins (inquire [latin] vs ask [germanic]).

you’ll also notice that changing a more direct sentence structure (“may I ask what”) to a more indirect one (“might I inquire as to”) also jumps a register. a lot of english is like this — you can complicate simple direct sentences by switching the way you use the verbs/how many auxiliaries you use etc.

THE POINT IS: with regards to english, more formal sentence structures are often (not always) longer and more indirect than informal ones. this leads us to a problem with a character like lan wangji.

lan wangji is canonically very taciturn. if he can express his meaning in two words rather than three, then he will. and chinese allows for this—in extreme ways. if you haven’t already read @hunxi-guilai’s post on linguistic register (in CQL only, but it’s applicable across the board), I would start there because haha! I certainly do Not have a degree in Classical Chinese lit and she does a great job. :D

you can see from the examples that hunxi chose that often, longer sentences tend to be more informal in chinese (not always, which I’ll circle back to at the end lol). Colloquial chinese makes use of helping particles to indicate tone and meaning, as is shown in wei wuxian’s dialogue. and, as hunxi explained, those particles are largely absent from lan wangji’s speech pattern. chinese isn’t built of “words” in the way English is—each character is less a word and more a morpheme—and the language allows for a lot of information to be encoded in one character. a single character can often stand for a phrase within a sentence without sacrificing either meaning or formality. lan wangji makes ample use of this in order to express himself in the fewest syllables possible.

so this obviously leads to an incongruity when trying to translate his dialogue or capture his voice in English: shorter sentences are usually more direct by nature, and directness/certainty is often construed as rudeness -- but it might seem strange to see lan wangji’s dialogue full of longer sentences while the narration explicitly says that he uses very short sentences. so what happens is that many english fic writers extrapolated this into creating an english speech pattern for lan wangji that reads oddly. they’ll have lan wangji speak in grammatically incoherent fragments that distill his intended thought because they’re trying to recreate his succinctness. unfortunately, English doesn’t have as much freedom as Chinese does in this way, and it results in lan wangji sounding as if he has some kind of linguistic impediment and/or as if he’s being unspeakably rude in certain situations. In reality, lan wangji’s speech is perfectly polite for a young member of the gentry (though he’s still terribly rude in other ways lol). he speaks in full, and honestly, quite eloquent sentences.

hunxi’s post already has a lot of examples, but I figure I’ll do one as well focused on the specifics of this post.

I’m going to use this exchange from chapter 63 between the twin jades because I think it’s a pretty simple way to illustrate what I’m talking about:

蓝曦臣道：“你亲眼所见？”

蓝忘机道：“他亲眼所见。”

蓝曦臣道：“你相信他？”

蓝忘机道：“信。”

[...] 蓝曦臣道：“那么金光瑶呢？”

蓝忘机道：“不可信。”

my translation:

Lan Xichen said, “You saw it with your own eyes?”

Lan Wangji said, “He saw it with his own eyes.”

Lan Xichen said, “You believe him?”

Lan Wangji said, “I believe him.”

[...] Lan Xichen said, “Then what about Jin Guangyao?”

Lan Wangji said, “He cannot be believed.”

you can see how much longer the (pretty literal) english translations are! every single line of dialogue is expanded because things that can be omitted in chinese cannot be omitted in english without losing grammatical coherency. i‘ll break a few of them down:

Lan Xichen’s first line:

你 (you) 亲眼 (with one’s own eyes) 所 (literary auxiliary) 见 (met/saw)？

idk but i love this line a lot lmao. it just has such an elegant feel to me, probably because I am an uncultured rube. anyways, you see here that he expressed his full thought in five characters.

if I were to rewrite this sentence into something much less formal/much more modern, I might have it become something like this:

你是自己看见的吗？

你 (you) 是 (to be) 自己 (oneself) 看见 (see) 的 (auxiliary) 吗 (interrogative particle)？

i suspect that this construction might even be somewhat childish? I’ve replaced every single formal part of the sentence with a more colloquial one. instead of 亲眼 i’ve used 自己, instead of 所见 i’ve used 看见的 and then also added an interrogative particle at the end for good measure (吗). To translate this, I would probably go with “Did you see it yourself?”

contained in this is also an example of how one character can represent a whole concept that can also be represented with two characters: 见 vs 看见. in this example, both mean “to see”. we’ll see it again in the next example as well:

in response to lan xichen’s, “you believe him?” --> 你 (you) 相信 (believe) 他 (him)? lan wangji answers with, “信” (believe).

chinese does not do yes or no questions in the same way that english does. there is no catch-all for yes or no, though there are general affirmative (是／有) and negative (不／没) characters. there are other affirmative/negative characters, but these are the ones that I believe are the most common and also the ones that you may see in response to yes or no questions on their own. (don’t quote me on that lol)

regardless, the way you respond to a yes or no question is often by repeating the verb phrase either in affirmative or negative. so here, when lan xichen asks if lan wangji believes wei wuxian, lan wangji responds “believe”. once again, you can see that one character can stand in for a concept that may also be expressed in two characters: 信 takes the place of 相信. lan wangji could have responded with “相信” just as well, but, true to his character, he didn’t because he didn’t need to. this is still a complete sentence. lan wangji has discarded the subject (I), the object (him), and also half the verb (相), and lost no meaning whatsoever. you can’t do this in english!

and onto the last exchange:

lan xichen: 那么 (then) 金光瑶 (jin guangyao) 呢 (what about)？

lan wangji: 不可 (cannot) 信 (believe)

you can actually see the contrast between the two brothers’ speech patterns even in this. lan xichen’s question is not quite as pared down as it could be. if it were wangji’s line instead, I would expect it to read simply “金光瑶呢？” which would just be “what about jin guangyao?” 那么 isn’t necessary to convey the core thought -- it’s just as how “then what about” is different than “what about”, but “then” is not necessary to the central question. if we wanted to keep the “then” aspect, you could still cut out 么 and it would be the same meaning as well.

a FINAL example of how something can be cut down just because I think examples are helpful:

“I don’t know” is usually given as 我不知道. (this is what nie huaisang says lol) It contains subject (我) and full verb (知道). you can pare this straight down to just 不知 and it would mean the same thing in the correct context. i think most of the characters do this at least once? it sounds more literary -- i don’t know that i would ever use it in everyday speech, but the fact remains that it’s a possibility. both could be translated as “I do not know” and it would be accurate.

ANYWAYS, getting all the way back to one of your original questions: does chinese have contractions? and the answer is like... kind of...?? but not really. there’s certainly slang/dialect variants that can be used in ways that are reminiscent of english contractions. the example I’m thinking of is the character 啥 (sha2) which can be used as slang in place of 什么 (shen2 me). (which means “what”)

so for a standard sentence of, 你在做什么? (what are you doing), you could shorten down to just 做啥? and the second construction is less formal than the first, but they mean the same thing.

other slang i can think of off the top of my head: 干嘛 (gan4 ma2) is also informal slang for “what are you doing”. and i think this is a regional thing, but you can also use 搞 (gao3) and 整 (zheng3) to mean “do” as well.

so in the same way that you can replace 什么 with 啥, you can replace 做 as well to get constructions like 搞啥 (gao3 sha2) and 整啥 (zheng3 sha2).

these are all different ways to say “what are you doing” lmao, and in this case, shorter is not, in fact, more formal.

woo! we made it to the end! I hope it was informative and helpful to you anon. :D

this is where I would normally throw my ko-fi, but instead, I’m actually going to link you to this fundraising post for an old fandom friend of mine. her house burned down mid-september and they could still use help if anyone can spare it! if this post would have moved you to buy me a ko-fi, please send that money to her family instead. :) rbs are also appreciated on the post itself. (* ´▽` *)

anyways, here’s the loaf jingyeast made :3 it was very tasty.

[angstsfordays]

Beautiful Pain (3)

Chapter Three- Found You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced! Reader

Summary: Post-Blip, you started to feel lost when most of the Avengers team are gone. Coping with your loss, you still find hope in the connection with your remaining friends. However, it is not easy as everyone is trying to figure their lives after the Blip.

Having a long history with Bucky ever since you both saved each other from Hydra, you were still glad you had Bucky after all this time. However, as you try to give Bucky space to find himself after being pardoned for his past, you start to wonder if you should ever cross the line of friendship before it’s too late.

That thought might have to be put on hold though, when you, Sam and Bucky find yourselves having to deal with threats that continue to rise in a post-Blip world.

Chapter synopsis: The three of you decide to take matters into your own hands which lead to the most unexpected alliance.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Hey everyone! This chapter covers the second half of episode 2 and the beginning of ep 3. Subtle hints of Bucky x reader here and there, but more importantly I want to cover how the reader plays into the dynamics of relationships in the series.

More Bucky x reader interactions in the next chapter, I promise!

The tag list is still open! Let me know if you want to join in with a message or comment in the chapters!

Leave a comment to let me know what you think! 🥰

I really appreciate it! 🙏🏼

Previous: Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Four

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The three of you changed back to more comfortable clothes before meeting up to find the man that Bucky wanted you and Sam to meet.

Walking on the streets of a neighbour in Baltimore, you were curious to know who the mysterious man was. As Bucky continued to lead the way, a kid on the street called out to Sam calling him the Black Falcon.

You beamed widely at the innocence of the kid who was excited to see a hero he had known. Sam went on to correct the kid and ended up engaging in funny banter with the kid.

You couldn’t help but grin at how effortless Sam was with people. He was different from Steve but you knew that Sam embodied his spirit with his own character. He would be such as good captain in your heart.

Soon, the three of you arrived at the house and Bucky went to knock on the door. When someone came to answer the door, you tried to put on your friendliest face to greet them.

Bucky asked for someone named Isaiah to which the young boy in front of you claimed that there was no one of that name.

Bucky didn’t give up and continue pressing on, claiming that you all just wanted to talk. It wasn’t very obvious but you could tell the boy was starting to get defensive and reiterated his point.

He was hiding something and didn’t want the three of you to inquire further. As a last resort, Bucky asked the boy to pass on a message that he was sure to able to reach out to the person you were supposed to meet.

The boy told us to wait while he closed the door. Sam questioned about how Bucky had met this person to which he replied that they met back during the Korean war. If your calculations, that was almost 70 years ago which only meant this person must at least be in his nineties.

Your deduction was confirmed when you were all let into the house and you came face to face with an aged man. The man looked less than friendly and was looking over the three of you with a hardened expression.

Gingerly walking closer, you saw how the man known as Isaiah looked fit for someone of his age. Bucky started off by introducing both you and Sam to Isaiah and vice versa. You tried to put on a polite smile despite the tense atmosphere.

Bucky went on to explain how Isaiah was a hero and was once feared most by HYDRA, just like how Steve was and that they met in 1951.

Isaiah took over the conversation and that was when you learnt that Isaiah was with the U.S military and they had sent him to go after Bucky when he was still the Winter Soldier. You could the small smile forming as he retold of how he managed to take out Bucky’s metal arm in Goyang.

You thought that Isaiah was starting to warm up but as he continued speaking, you knew he was still reserved.

“I’m not a killer anymore,” Bucky emphasized to Isaiah but the aged man wasn’t pleased.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you wanna be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” Isaiah responded as he stared back straight into Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing on. He explained the situation that there were possibly more super soldiers like him and Isaiah. When you heard that, your eyes widened in shock at the revelation.

“I’m not going to talk about it anymore.” Isaiah was seething with anger and threw a metal box into the wall. The non-blunt object that impaled into the wooden wall only serves to exemplify how Isaiah was enhanced like Steve and Bucky.

You winced at his action and looked over to see the young boy who you presumed to be Isaiah’s grandson looking down in silence.

Isaiah stepped closer towards Bucky and spoke once more. This time, instead of lashing out, his voice was shaking.

“You know what they did to me for being a hero?” Isaiah paused shortly before speaking his next sentence. “They put my ass in jail for 30 years.”

Once you heard his words, you immediately looked down with indescribable emotions. Isaiah continue to tell of how he was treated like nothing more than an object, having people run tests on him, taking his blood and going into his cells.

“Even your people weren’t done with me.” Isaiah directed his words at Bucky once more.

Sam tried to calm Isaiah down but the man was livid. He shouted for all three of you to leave his home and everyone retreated without a question. As Sam and Bucky filed out of the door, you turned your back to throw a last look at Isaiah who was still fuming silently.

You gave a slight bow to show a sign of respect and apology.

“A warning, miss.” Surprised to hear Isaiah speak to you directly, you looked up to meet his eyes.

“My grandson spoke of you before. You and I are the same even if we were made differently.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Blinking your eyes in confusion, you waited to hear Isaiah’s explanation.

“I don’t know how you have gotten your abilities. But if you don’t stay low and keep your head down, they will come for you and do the same things to you that they did to me.” You took a sharp intake of breath at Isaiah’s warning. It only heightened the fears you already had, making it more real.

You thanked Isaiah quietly before making a move to catch up with your friends. When you reached the steps, Bucky and Sam were already walking ahead of you.

You proceeded to follow them before glancing back to see Isaiah’s grandson giving you a nod of acknowledgement before he closed the door. You could already the argument as Sam confronted Bucky on why he only let you two know about Isaiah only now.

Sam continued to question why there was a Black super soldier decades ago and why nobody knew about it?

“Guys, let’s not do this here-” You tried to intervene when you noticed a police car driving around the corner to where you all were.

The car stopped at where you all stood and the officers stepped out to inquire about what was going on. Sam replied that everyone was just talking and it was nothing to worry about. When the officers started asking for identification, Sam remarked that he didn’t have any.

Bucky tried to pacify the officers who insisted to engage in the situation. It was not a pleasant exchange of words as it seemed like it was going nowhere with the officers trying to probe and Sam trying to deflect.

“There’s nothing going on. We are all just friends talking things out.” You tried to give a brief but succinct explanation to get the officers to back off.

The officer clearly ignored your words before continuing to ask Bucky if Sam was bothering him. Bucky had it and went ahead to ask if the officer actually knew who Sam was.

Another officer came up to whisper into his partner’s ear and you could hear him telling him of your identities. The officer quickly retracted his initial behaviour and apologised to Sam.

“Mam.” You see the officer now acknowledging your presence only when he knew of your title.

You just grimly stared back in response before looking around to see that you have gained the attention of onlookers in the neighbourhood. The officers went back to the vehicle while Bucky continued from where you all left off on the conversation.

Bucky explained that he didn’t let anyone know about Isaiah since the man had been through so much. You had to agree on his reasoning and you knew Sam did too.

The officer came out again to let Bucky know that there was a warrant out for his arrest.

“Look, the president pardoned him for all that,” Sam interjected but the officer claimed it was not for that reason. Instead, Bucky had missed his court-mandated therapy and that was akin to missing a check-in with a parole officer.

He apologised before having to call for Bucky’s arrest. As Bucky walked over to the car, the officer took out the handcuffs. That set you off as you marched forward.

“Hey, don’t treat him like a criminal. He’s not going to do anything.” You tried intervening to which the officers telling you that it was standard protocol.

“Don’t worry, doll. It’s fine.” Bucky gave you a brief smile before getting into the back of the car. He gave Sam a last look before giving you one that tried to reassure you once more. As the police car drove off, Sam approached you and you two made your way to the police station together.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Once you arrived at the station, you sat with Sam as you waited for Bucky’s release. From the corner of your eye, you could see Dr Raynor, Bucky’s therapist coming to approach the two of you.

“Sam, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Dr Raynor extended a hand to Sam before continuing to introduce herself. As you met eyes with her next, she moved her hand to you and you returned the gesture.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N.”

“Likewise, doctor”. You exchanged pleasantries with her before Sam gave his thanks to her for getting Bucky out. Dr Raynor denied the credits for it and the two of you exchanged a confused look before you heard a familiar voice.

“Christina!”

You and Sam managed to mirror the exact same expression before he inquired how Dr Raynor knew John Walker. Apparently, they worked together back in their military days.

What a small world.

With a smug look, John claimed that Bucky would not need to follow a strict schedule which raised your brows in question. Dr Raynor asked whose authorization was this on to which John pointed to himself with a pleased smile.

You wished you could wipe it off his face.

“He’s too valuable of an asset to be tied up. Just do whatever you go to do with him, then send him off to me.” That word was a trigger for you. Knowing Bucky’s past and how that word only reduced him to some sort of objectification. You couldn’t help the need to say your piece to him.

“Don’t talk about him like that.” You shot back to Walker and he gave you a quizzed look. “Like what?”

“Like his only value boils down to how well he can fight for your task force. You talk about him like he’s some object for your use when he’s a person.” You tried defending Bucky’s honour.

Sensing your enmity, John raised two hands to show that he meant no harm.

“A little bit too much here, Y/N. You’re his girlfriend or something?” John’s casual remark took you aback especially for what he implied in the second sentence. A sudden sense of shyness overcame you as you did not what to say in response.

You struggled for the right words to say and looked over to Sam who gave you an inquisitive look before you saw Bucky coming out. You made no indication to give John Walker an answer as you made your way towards your friend.

You could hear John saying that he had unfinished business with Bucky, Sam and you before indicating he will be waiting outside.

“Hey, you okay?” You spoke softly to Bucky who nodded in response. “They didn’t do anything to you, right?” You added on. Your worry for Bucky only made him grinned at how you were so concerned over him.

Bucky placed his hand at the back of your head and stroked your hair to calm you down.

“I’m fine. Really.” Bucky tried to convince you as you pouted. His hand mover over to your cheeks as he went on to hold your face gently. Bucky gave you a small pinch on your cheeks to tease how you could look cute while being worried at the same time.

“James, condition of your release, a session now. You too, Sam.” Dr Raynor instructed. Sam tried to excuse himself but Dr Raynor was not having it, saying it wasn’t a request. As she looked over at you, she gave you a reassuring smile.

“Would just need these two boys. You’re fine, dear.” Nodding politely to her, you tried to tell the boys to behave with a faked stern expression as they turned back to give you the last look before they walked off with Dr Raynor.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Turned out the session didn’t really go well when you saw both men walked out with hardened expressions on their faces. As the three of you stepped out of the precinct, you saw a flash of red and blue lights accompanied by the sound of a siren.

You looked over to see John and Lemar leaning against a police car and reluctantly approached them.

John once again tried to propose that it was better to work together. Sam considered it for a moment and decided to inquire further. Apparently, the leader of the Flag Smashers is Karli Morgenthau. Civilians have been helping this group to hide safely from the authorities and move to new locations discreetly.

Her rough location was predicted to be in displaced communities across central and eastern Europe. Bucky being the cynic he was towards John Walker tried to get John Walker to give an exact location.

The two of them gave heated exchanges before Bucky decided to taunt John Walker. You could see the latter’s patience wearing thin. He was trying to be patient and nice with all of you all this while but you were all hard on him.

You almost started to feel a little bad.

Sam stepped in before it felt like things were going to escalate and reiterated the most important point- which was that the Flag Smashers had to be stopped at all costs.

They were too dangerous to be roaming out freely on their own. Shoot, it sounded hypocritical coming from you when you were experiencing the same thing. They weren’t killing anyone, they were just trying to deliver medicines and vaccines to vulnerable communities.

Was that really a bad thing? You thought.

You turned your attention back to the conversation and picked up from how Sam said that it was better that you all were separately from John and Lemar. After all, you were all free agents versus them working under an establishment.

It would be challenging for you three to have to conform and work with stipulated regulations and authorizations. That was your cue to walk away but John spoke up once again, stopping you in your tracks.

“A word of advice then. Stay the hell out of my way.” It sounded more like a threat than advice.

“Y/N, last chance. The offer still stands.” John Walker shoots his last shot towards you. You peered over to see Bucky and Sam staring at you intently.

You shook your head before you spoke. “Sorry, I’m with my boys till the end.”

“You will regret it.” John tried to make you feel bad but you knew it wouldn’t work on you.

“We’ll see, Walker.” You just threw a smirk and a mock salute his way before turning back.

Sam clapped you on the back and rested his hands on your shoulder as you all walked off. Bucky placed his arms around your waist and gave you a gentle pat on your side.

For once, they were on the page on something and that was being proud of you.

As the three of you contemplated on what to do next, Bucky insinuated something in his words. Sam knew what he was implying immediately tried to refute the idea.

When the gears started shifted in your brain, you grabbed onto Bucky’s arms to stop him in his tracks. You shook your head before the words even came out.

Letting out a sigh, he tried to talk reason to you. “Doll, you know he is the only one to know all of HYDRA’s secrets. Don’t you remember Siberia?”

“Yes, which exactly why it is a bad idea! Do you remember what he did to you back then? To us? He’s scheming and manipulative, you can’t trust him.” You argued back.

“Y/N, he has a point if we want a start.” Sam chimed in to convince you. You begrudgingly gave in as Sam continued.

“So you’re just going to go up and sit in a room with this guy?” Bucky gave a hesitant yes.

Sam gave it a few more thoughts before affirming that it’s time to pay Zemo a visit.

-------------------------//---------------------------

The trip to pay Zemo a visit required you to pack up and head over to Germany. Standing outside the prison, your gut still told you that this was a bad idea.

Who knows if Zemo might try to get into Bucky’s head again?

Once you were led through the corridors nearing Zemo’s cell, the officer left you, Sam and Bucky. “I’m going in alone,” Bucky stated citing that considering Sam and you were both technically associated with the Avengers.

Sam refuted his reason as Zemo was still viewed as dangerous, given that a man like him could have broken up the Avengers.

Bucky emphasized that Zemo was obsessed with HYDRA and they had a history together. Your rolled your eyes at the comment and still showed your disapproval.

“Trust me, I got it.” He told Sam before looking back at you. Bucky knew you had reasonable doubts but he had to do this on his own. He placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressed it affectionately for a short moment before letting go and walking off.

As you waited outside with Sam, the two of you kept quiet for a minute before Sam spoke up first.

“You know, I’m not the biggest fan of cyborg in there but he’s really lucky to have you.” Looking over to Sam who gave you an endearing gaze like a big brother would, you muttered a quiet thanks, not knowing what else to say.

“Tell me, how do you stand that grumpy old ass? Seems like he’s not a great company with his brooding all day.” Sam tried to quip to make the conversation light-hearted. You chuckled at hearing his usual snide remarks about Bucky and then took a moment to think about his question.

“He does not brood all day. You just need to know how to make him smile and laugh.” You answered thoughtfully, unbeknown to you Sam was quietly observing the expression on your face.

Your bashful grin did not go unnoticed by him but you didn’t know you were even making such an expression when you continued to talk about Bucky.

“Bucky is a cynic at times, but he’s such a softie. You know he always has lunch with his 70-year-old neighbour on Wednesday to keep him company. The man’s son passed away many years ago and he had no one left. Bucky is the only one he interacts with on most days. ” You painted a different side of Bucky, one that you were familiar with and you hope Sam could learn to know.

“After all he’s been through, I believe Bucky can overcome anything that comes his way. I hope that I can help to find himself and find peace with himself again. He deserves to be happy.” You got so engrossed in singing Bucky’s praises that you didn’t notice Sam observing you with a gleeful look.

When you realised that you have been rambling, you paused yourself to look over to see Sam with a weird expression.

“What?” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Besides Steve, I can’t see anyone who likes him as much as you do.” His words got you flustered as you felt him implying it in a different meaning.

“Well, as friends of course-” You tried to correct the context before he stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sis.” Sam placed his arms around your neck and ruffled your hair playfully.

“Hey!” You countered back playfully before the two of you continued to play around light-heartedly.

Your lively banter reminded you of the lighter moments from your Avenger days with your friends and you suddenly paused in our actions to give Sam a hug.

“I missed you, Sam.” Before you knew it, the tears started welling up as you started to think about old friends.

Sam returned the hug and he knew by your words what you had meant. Before Wanda, you were the youngest in the team and everyone doted on you like a baby. Even with new additions to the team, everyone still regarded you as a darling. Losing half of the team in the fight with Thanos would have the most impact on you.

Looking down at you quietly sobbing in his arms, Sam thought that even though he had seen you grown up over the years, you were always still the little sister figure in the team.

Even though you were given such extraordinary abilities and viewed as a powerful fighter, he thought that you were no different from any ordinary woman trying to live her best life.

You once confided in him that you hoped to quickly retire from fighting and live a life that would truly make you happy. The guilt started seeping in as he knew he had unknowingly dragged you back to another fight.

Once this was all over, he hoped that you can be free to live that life you wanted.

-------------------------//---------------------------

Once the visit was over, Bucky led you and Sam to a garage. He suggested the idea of breaking Zemo out of jail and both of you immediately threw up arms.

Sam thought Bucky lost his mind and you did too. Sam started listing off the reasons why getting Zemo out was a bad idea and you added in your piece. Bucky still seemed to be insistent on the idea and you literally grabbed your head in frustration.

When Bucky tried to reason and come up with a hypothetical, you already knew he was up to no good. Bucky continued talking about how a plan could be formulated to break Zemo and it sounded way too well thought out.

Sam felt uneasy just like you and exclaimed to ask Bucky where exactly you all were. When Bucky didn’t answer, Sam already turned his head to see movement from across everyone. You turned your head too to see someone entering the scene and you had a hunch you knew who it was and that you weren’t going to like it.

As Zemo stepped forward in prison warden’s uniform, you were stunned for words but more importantly, you were outraged.

“Bucky! I can’t believe you-” You exclaimed.

“Doll, let me explain.” He tried to pacify you.

“I didn’t want to tell you two because I knew you two wouldn’t let this happen.” Bucky tried to justify his actions and held Sam back from moving onto Zemo.

“You’re going back to prison.” Sam directed at Zemo before turning back to Bucky.

Zemo, for the first time, tried to speak up in the chaos.

“If I may-”

“NO!” Sam and Bucky shut him down immediately. You skipped ahead to go up to the man and grabbed him by the collars. Your hands were threatening to light up with your bright energy flames and Zemo showed a fearful look beside his usual demeanour.

“You’re gonna get it from me, you punk!” Your teeth clenched as the words came out and Zemo held his hands up in surrender.

“Apologies, miss. I mean no harm.” You felt Bucky holding you back and untangling your fingers from Zemo’s collars.

“Y/N, please listen to me first.” You unwillingly gave in once you saw Bucky give you a puppy-eyed pleading look. You gritted your teeth and clenched your fists before giving him a look that said you were willing to listen.

Bucky looked over to you and Sam, trying to appeal for your co-operation. “The two of you backed Steve when he refused to sign the Sokovia Accords. You both broke the law and stuck your neck out for me. I’m asking you to do it for me again, please.”

“I really think I’m invaluable-” Zemo tried to appeal himself but he was met with Sam’s telling of him to shut up. You turned to glare at Zemo and he backed off once more.

You and Sam looked at each other, subsequently both coming to agree on the plan. Sam then turned to Zemo and warned him to play any games. Zemo was not to even move without permission and he agreed that it was fair.

You later learnt that you were in Zemo’s personal garage and while you were amazed by his car collections, you made sure to not get distracted while you were around the man.

Zemo made clear that his intentions were to end the Winter Soldier program and thus your goals were aligned in stopping the Flag Smashers. He was even confident in knowing where to start as he gathered up his things and continued to lead the way.

You still couldn’t believe that you had to work with the man that framed Bucky and caused the lives of many innocent people to be taken away.

You could never trust him entirely and you made sure that if it counts down to the worst-case scenario, you would be willing to go further than you usually did in handling people like him.

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Tag list:

@tanyaherondale @spookycereal-s @cataves

[sturchling]

In the heroes day's episode. Did Lila's mom say somthing about a meeting with the embassy and talk about "How useless LB and CH were"?? Wonder how that meeting go??

Here you go! Hope you like it! 

When Heroes Day happened, Lila hadn’t realized what her mother had just said. In Lila’s urgency in keeping her mother from talking to the school, she had caused herself a whole new problem. Mrs. Rossi was very concerned about all of these akumatizations. Especially since most of them were close to her daughter. Lila hadn’t even been able to go to school in several weeks. This Ladybug and Chat Noir seemed pretty incompetent as heroes. Luckily, Mrs. Rossi and her daughter haven’t been put in a position to meet them yet, and Mrs. Rossi hoped they never had to meet. Seeing her daughter quickly close the blinds to hide from whatever is outside made Mrs. Rossi feel even worse. She was determined to do something to help fix this for her daughter. She was going to make Paris a safe place for her. “All these akumatizations are really concerning. I’ll bring it up at our next embassy meeting.” With that, Mrs. Rossi kissed Lila on the head and left for work.

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Lila hadn’t registered what her mother had said at the time, but now she was panicked. If her mom looked into this, it would all be over for Lila. But Lila knew there wasn’t an embassy meeting planned for a while. This gave Lila some time to come up with a plan. About a week after Heroes Day, she saw her mom come home from work and Mrs. Rossi said, “Good news Lila. There will be an embassy meeting in four days, and I was given some time to speak at the meeting. I’ll be able to try and come up with a solution for all of these akumatizations that haven’t been resolved. I’ll start working on my presentation right now.” Now Lila was worried. She had to keep her mom from digging too deep. Lila put on her best smile and hoped this worked, “Don’t worry about it mom. I can do it for you. I have a lot of free time now since school is closed, and it would help teach me how to research. You just focus on what you want to say, I will get the facts for you!” Her mother looked thoughtfully at her for a moment, “If you are sure it won’t be any trouble, then I agree. I think it would be a good learning experience for you. But I will look over your work before the meeting. To make sure it is ready to show at the meeting.” “Yes mom! Leave it to me!”

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Lila spent the rest of the night working on this stupid presentation. Not like she could foist it off on a classmate. The whole class loves that stupid bug, and they think that Lila and Ladybug are best friends. If they knew that Lila had been badmouthing Ladybug, then it is all over for Lila. She filled the presentation with all the lies she had told her mother. The schools being closed, the akumas left to run free through the city, and the ineptitude of Ladybug and Chat Noir. She made sure to Photoshop some images to make them really moving, but more importantly convincing. Lila eventually sat back and admired her handiwork. She was sure this would fool everyone at that stupid embassy meeting. This would keep her lies safe, for a little while longer at least. Now she just had to hope the rest of the diplomats were as gullible as her mother.

  -------------------

Lila showed the presentation to her mother the next day. Mrs. Rossi was very impressed by her daughter’s work. The presentation was very thorough and covered everything that Lila had told her about, while still being succinct and well organized. Lila had even thought ahead enough to include a works cited page. Mrs. Rossi praised her daughter and told her she was very happy that Lila had helped her with this project. Mrs. Rossi felt confident going into the meeting in three days, with a presentation this nice. For the next few days, Mrs. Rossi practiced what she was going to say, and Lila helped her with that as well. Lila seemed to have developed a love of research, she always volunteered to check the facts for Mrs. Rossi. Mrs. Rossi was very proud of her daughter. Lila’s school opened back up the day before the meeting, Lila saying that Mr. Damocles and the rest of the staff were finally deakumatized by Ladybug. Lila seemed excited to go back to school and see all her friends, and Mrs. Rossi was happy that Lila’s life would have a semblance of normalcy again. Soon it was the day of the meeting and Mrs. Rossi thought she was ready. She had no idea the storm she was about to walk into.

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Mrs. Rossi had just finished giving her presentation. She had thought people would jump into action and start suggesting ideas to help. Instead, she was met with stunned and angry silence. The tension in the room was palpable. Just as Mrs. Rossi thought that the silence would last forever, one of her coworkers spoke up, “With all due respect Mrs. Rossi, what on earth are you talking about?” Mrs. Rossi was shocked, what did he mean by that? “Was there something you needed me to clarify from the presentation? I understand it was a lot of information.” The entire room was looking at her like she had grown a second head. From the back of the room, a young woman, spoke up, “Mrs. Rossi, there are no akumas running around. Akuma attacks do happen, but they have never shut a school down. At most, they cause an early dismissal. Typically, Ladybug and Chat Noir have the akuma issue resolved within an hour or two. Why would you insult Paris’ heroes like this?”  Mrs. Rossi was shocked. “What do you mean? My daughter’s school has been shut down for months and her principal has been akumatized for just about as long.” Now Mrs. Rossi was growing frustrated, as she watched some people in the room role their eyes. The first coworker that had said something looks at Mrs. Rossi with a very condescending look on his face, “Your daughter goes to Francoise Dupont right? That school has never been shut down for an extended time because of an akuma. And the principal, Mr. Damocles was deakumatized within a few hours of the akuma alert. Whoever told you otherwise is lying to you. Next time you want to present something, make sure to fact check it. Ladybug and Chat Noir may be incredibly young, but they have been doing an amazing job.” Ladybug and Chat Noir were young? From what Lila had told her, they sounded like lazy adults. Though Mrs. Rossi was beginning to realize that Lila was not a reliable source of information. Mrs. Rossi was incredibly embarrassed as she sat down. The meeting was quickly adjourned after Mrs. Rossi’s embarrassment. Mrs. Rossi went to her desk and began checking everything that Lila had told her. She quickly realized everything that Lila had told her was false. Every source Mrs. Rossi could find said the same thing; that Ladybug was an extremely capable hero and saved the day all the time. And her coworkers were right, these heroes were very young, they looked to be about Lila’s age. Lila had never even told her that she had been akumatized several times. There was no announcement from the school saying they had been closed either. Mrs. Rossi had never been more furious in her life! She couldn’t believe Lila would lie to her like this! And Lila had even lied about school, her daughter had been truant for who knows how long. The lying ends now. Mrs. Rossi took an early lunch and headed to the school, determined to get some answers.

  -------------------

Lila was having a pretty good day. The class was so excited to see her ‘back from Achu’ and were hanging off her every word. It was now free time for the class and she was in the middle of telling the class how, ‘Prince Ali was so happy to hear about my new plans for our go green charities’ when out of no where the door to the class room slammed open. Lila paled as she saw her mother storm into the room. Mrs. Rossi looked FURIOUS and Lila knew this meant trouble. Lila braced herself as her mom got ready to yell, the class still to stunned to question who this strange woman was, “LILA ELIANA ROSSI! How dare you lie to me! I have never been more embarrassed in my life! I just made a fool out of myself in front of everyone at that meeting using your presentation. And now I find out that you lied about the school being closed!? You have been truant for this whole time!? Do you have any idea how much trouble I could be in for this!? You had better explain yourself right now young lady!” The class continued to stare in shock while Lila was panicking. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother was about to ruin everything for Lila. Those stupid people at the embassy just had to reveal Lila to her mother. Lila quickly tried to deescalate the situation and get her mother away from the rest of the class. “Maybe we should talk about this somewhere else?” Mrs. Rossi laughed coldly, “Yes we should, I think the principle should be involved in this conversation. Let’s go young lady.” Mrs. Bustier snaps out of her surprise, “Now wait just a moment ma’am, who are you?” Mrs. Rossi whipped around, “I am Lila’s mother. You are her teacher, right? Mrs. Bustier? You should come with us too; you should be a part of this conversation too.” Mrs. Bustier reluctantly agreed, telling the rest of the class to read chapter 10 from their history books while she was gone. The whole class was just staring at Lila as she descended the steps and left with her mother. The whole time they were walking to the principal’s office, Lila was trying to come up with a way to salvage everything. But Lila’s struggle was futile, she couldn’t think of a way out of this mess.

  -------------------

Lila was right, there wasn’t a way out of this mess. Her mother revealed to both Mr. Damocles and Mrs. Bustier that they had not been in Achu the last few months. She told the pair of educators what Lila had told her about the school being closed. It wasn’t long after that the rest of Lila’s lies had been exposed. All of the different disabilities and ailments she had claimed to have, including the lying disease. Mr. Damocles also revealed how Lila had caused another student to be unjustly expelled. Mrs. Rossi was furious at her daughter for causing so much trouble! After everything was revealed, it was decided that Lila would be expelled because of the truancy and the faking different disabilities. Especially once Mr. Damocles realized that since there is no lying disease, Lila was trying to get Marinette expelled on purpose. Before they left, Lila was made to apologize to the class for her lies, since they had been taking notes and doing homework for her because of her ‘injuries’. The class was furious at Lila for tricking them. Marinette was thankful that Lila had been uncovered before she was able to carry out her threat. She did have to fight Lila as an akuma later that day, but she was perfectly fine with that. Especially when she heard that Mrs. Rossi decided to send Lila to relatives back in Italy to make sure she wouldn’t be akumatized again. Things returned to normal in Mrs. Bustier’s class pretty quickly after Lila left. Marinette was just happy that the liar was out of her life for good, and she had Mrs. Rossi to thank for it.

[lyrabythelake]

Dear Malon

I wrote this short fic a while ago for an LU zine but realised I haven’t posted it anywhere else, so here you go!

Dear Malon,

I can only hope these letters are finding you. Admittedly, I haven’t had much experience with time-travelling postmen before, nor do I know anyone who has, so my faith in his reliability is limited. However, I do like to imagine my words have reached you, that you know I am safe and well and that I am on a wondrous journey with friends by my side. I know how you worry.

It seems like months since I last wrote, though I know it’s been only days. Our ultimate purpose on this quest is still unclear but the boys never lose hope. They fight with a determination unparalleled by anyone I’ve met and every day I become prouder of them still.

Occasionally I am filled with dread at the way they look up to me as their leader. It’s a great honour that they see me that way, but I am terrified I won’t fulfil their expectations of me. I wake in a cold sweat each night, the afterimages of each of them in harm’s way because of my negligence burned into my mind…

“He’s writing again.”

Eight heroes sit under the cherry blossoms in the still afternoon. The trees are in full bloom and the pink petals fall gently into the deeply grassed meadow and the trickling stream, washed away in a rush of fresh silver water.

They look to the ninth at Four’s words, hunched over the paper with his hair falling over his face, shielding him in his concentration towards the words he writes. Petals rest in his hair, on his clothes but their gentle presence doesn’t catch his notice, nor do the other heroes’ muttering only meters away. His sword is within reaching distance, always prepared for an attack, but otherwise he is a picture of peace, one the others dare not disturb for its rareness.

“Where do you think he sends them?” Hyrule asks in innocent curiosity. It is a question -among others- they’ve all asked themselves at one time or another. They have their theories, even discussed them at times when Time himself isn’t around.

“I bet they’re love letters,” Sky muses, his wistful gaze undeterred from the Hero of Time and the scratching of his quill.

“What? No way,” scoffs Wind. He is not quite as versed in love as some of the others, but he is practiced in the art of longing and desire.

Warriors is the first to raise his eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“He’s never talked about anyone before,” Wild argues.

“So?” interjects Legend, “not everyone likes to flaunt their love affairs like the Captain.”

“I don’t flaunt anything!”

“The old man keeps his emotions close to his heart,” murmurs Twilight, drawing the attention of them all despite the softness of his words, “Love is beautiful yet fleeting, like the cherry blossoms in spring. He’s right to treasure it and keep it close.”

“Uh oh, the ranch hand’s off again,” snorts Wild and there is a ripple of laughter in response.

“I think it’s nice he has someone to write to,” states Hyrule and the others agree. They’ve all known the wasteland of loneliness at some point in their lives and it has left its scars on them all.

It is a while before Time, lost in a world of his own, puts his quill down and gets to his feet. He folds the paper neatly into four and slips it into the deepest of his pockets, away from prying eyes and ready to hand over to the postman whenever they might see him next.

His thoughts drift and swirl like the blossom petals that fall around him, content and serene with just an ounce of sorrow like that which comes with the ephemerality of spring. The others’ lighthearted chatter dips and bays as he treads along the bank of the rushing stream.

He thinks of his wife, worlds away, and wonders what she is doing. Wonders if he’ll ever get to see her again.

Dear Malon,

This time of year reminds me of you.

It was around this time, many years ago, that I married you with a promise that the worst of my adventures were over. That from then on, my life would be simple, wrapped in safety with the woman I love. I think you knew back then that it was a promise I could never keep. I could run from it forever, but adventure always seems to find me.

This adventure is different to the others I’ve been on. With the boys here each battle comes with a new terror I never felt when fighting on my own, though I am certain I wouldn’t be alive today without them.

The responsibility I feel for them goes beyond just our age difference and the mutual respect we afford one another. I never called myself a hero. That title has been forced upon me despite my assurances that I couldn’t be further from it. I look at Hyrule and Legend sometimes and the others that have suffered, even if not directly, from my hand and feel all their suffering and sorrow tenfold in the form of heavy guilt…

“I think we should go south.”

Legend’s statement is met with confusion from most and narrowed eyes from Time, an expression missed by all but Legend himself.

“Why south?” asks Warriors curiously. Legend is grateful his words are not dismissed immediately. He supposes it’s not often he makes bold suggestions such as this one without proper reason to do so, so it’s bound to draw their attention. He may have the experience, but he has no qualms in leaving the day-to-day leadership and tactics to Time, Twilight and Warriors.

“I have a good feeling about it,” he replies confidently, like the argument he’s giving isn’t totally redundant.

“You have… a good feeling…”

“Yes. It’s not like we have anywhere we particularly need to be.”

“Don’t you think we should go to the castle?” suggests Twilight, prompting a collective look to Time for the final decision. He knows this land best after all.

Time’s frown has become increasingly more pronounced throughout the brief debate, his eyes fixed on Legend suspiciously.

“Let’s go south,” he decides eventually, his gaze not leaving Legend, missing the way Twilight raises his eyebrows but otherwise holds his tongue. As they set off, Time falls into step beside Legend, his gait revealing nothing of the emotions Legend expects he is feeling.

“You had no right to read it,” he says after a while, and his voice is not angry but rather fiercely neutral.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps I would have believed you if the letter hadn’t mysteriously disappeared from my jacket this morning.”

Legend says nothing. He was sure he had got away with it. His curiosity had momentarily surpassed his guilt long enough to sneak a glance at the heartfelt (and very private) scribbled note before returning it to the old man’s jacket when he was distracted.

It took a simple question to a merchant in the castle town after that to determine the whereabouts of one ‘Lon Lon Ranch’.

Dear Malon, the letter had said, and in his haste to read it, Legend had almost mistaken the scrawled name for someone else’s entirely.

We moved between worlds again last night and the nine of us have found ourselves somewhere very familiar to me. My first thought was to drop any heroic duties and run to you there and then before it struck me how selfish that would be.

You see, homesickness is a perpetual ailment among the boys (and myself) and they have given up so much to embark on this journey with no discernible end. I cannot in good conscience refute that to return to our Lon Lon Ranch. It kills me to do so, particularly as all I can think of is seeing you again…

 The boys are inevitably curious about the purposeful path Time leads them along, but he can’t quite bring himself to answer their inquisitiveness with a succinct answer. He has a one-track mind, all thoughts geared towards the relief of his destination and all other sounds fade into the background to make way for it.

They reach the ranch before nightfall, his companions’ confusion only increasing at the sight of the woman standing outside it. The way he falls into her arms is answer enough; the warmth of her embrace has never felt so inviting.

The others’ voices are a mere echo of disbelief, hilarity and the ending of bets behind him as he focuses on the relief and utter contentment that comes with being home after far too long. The stress of the past weeks, the constant worry for the boys and their respective worlds, melt from him immediately, leaving him as light as a feather.

The Hero of Time has never been one for excessive emotions, but as he clings to the familiarity of his wife, he almost thinks he could cry.

“Did you get them?” he asks, hesitantly, “the letters?”

Her smile is like the sun as she whispers back.

“I treasure every one.”

[crownlessliestheking]

the chain that snaps

Here it is, my Tolkien Secret Santa fic, on both tumblr (under the Keep Reading) and on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145298) for your perusal. This was great, and I really hope my giftee enjoys it, even though this remains anonymous for now. Many thanks for @officialtolkiensecretsanta​ organizing this, and happy holidays, everyone!

The throne digs into his lower back, but Finrod consoles himself as he has all day- with the knowledge that this is but a formality he must sit through as King, and that on the morrow, he can be off, leaving Artaresto in charge once more. The Dwarrowfolk in Belegost, he thinks- it has been many a year since last he visited, since they named him Felagund and he took the epessë unto himself gladly and delighted in it.

He does not know them well, for all that their realms trade; they are a secretive bunch, but Finrod has treated with them, broken bread, and they have fought with the Noldor. That is enough to forge ties, he thinks. And besides, he longs to see the mountains again, breathe in the crisp air. Nargothrond is beautiful, and it is his in a way that no corner of Aman had been, but the crown is itself a shackle at times.

Ruefully, Finrod thinks that perhaps he is not suited to kingship and its more tedious daily tasks. His thoughts stray for a moment, back to Valinor, where his father is no doubt High King of the Noldor. He may be better suited for it. Certainly, kingship in Aman has less- contention. There is, after all, no Enemy to contend with.

He shifts in his throne again. He suspects his father’s throne is rather more comfortable too, if it sees any use, but movement near the entrance to the hall catches his eye.

“My lord,” says Artaresto, coming into the hall. He sketches out a bow, brief. He is tenser than usual- for all that Finrod tries to get him to relax, he refuses steadfastly- and that draws his attention immediately.

“Nephew,” Finrod greets him, straightening up. The metal of his throne presses uncomfortably against his spine as he does. “I had thought you were out ranging with some of the guard.”

So as to avoid Finrod himself doing so, he does not say, but the fond exasperation is still clear in his voice. Finrod has never been one to deny his emotions.

“I was,” comes the answer. “We encountered two others, journeying to Nargothrond from Himring.”

Not Maedhros or Maglor, Finrod suspects. Not from the look on Artaresto’s face, brows drawn together, lips turned into a frown. Around him, the court stirs in unease. Finrod rises from the throne, and his nephew strides over to stand next to him.

“Come, then, tell me who it is you found wandering the road?” he prompts, voice light to lift the shroud of gloom that is descending upon the room. “Surely not more from Himlad who had thought to shelter there before they grew weary of the chill? There is room plenty in these halls, and perhaps they may even find those who they thought were lost here.”

But Artaresto remains silent, and there is an uncertain look about his face.

“Yes, indeed, more from Himlad, fair cousin,” comes a familiar, lazy drawl from the entrance through the hall. There had been a wave of murmurs across the room earlier, but now the silence is a death knell. “Surely you would not turn us away? You have already taken in many of our people.”

“A gift so freely given would be miserly if rescinded,” says another voice, soft as an echo, but twice as sharp.

No. Not Maedhros, nor Maglor, though he would have welcomed them no matter how grim the former has become, nor how much the latter is prone to dramatics. Nor Ambarussa, always together, fey and laughing though that too has changed. Nor dark Caranthir, who last Finrod had heard from a succinct letter, had also met with those of the Houses of Men.

Instead, Curufin and Celegorm, as they are called now, stand before him. They are much changed, Finrod realizes, with the first flicker of his own unease.

These are his cousins, and he cannot deny them audience.

And yet-

Finrod is wise, he is the Hewer of Caves, he has walked among Men and learned of their ways, more so than any of his kin except perhaps his eldest cousin in chill Himring. He built this realm as a haven for his people, to keep them safe against the ever-growing dark, and he has bled for them.

He knows now with cold certainty that he will bleed for them again. Finrod knows the snake that lurks in the grass, but he is not so cruel as to kill it when it is simply doing what it must to survive.

(But oh, at what cost? No. He need not ask that. Deep in his soul, he already knows, he hears the bells of mourning toll and tastes the must of the grave on his tongue.)

Especially not when it was their swords that protected his lands from Morgoth, before the Bragollach, when their brothers’ swords still do. Especially not when they are still bound by blood, when he remembers Tyelko as a fey youth in Oromë’s train, and Curvo sharp-tongued and fumbling in turns, cheeks flushed a becoming red when Finrod teased him just so. It was not only Carnistir who deserved the epithet, although Curvo was much harder to provoke.

Perhaps he is soft- certainly, Curvo-as-he-was would mock him for it, and no doubt Curufin-as-he-is will have many a thing to say about it. But he has never encountered a single thing he could not form an opinion of, and those, Finrod are well-used to hearing. No, for the love that he once bore them and the love he bears Curvo still (and so, the love that Curvo bears for his brother), he cannot turn them away.

“Cousins,” Finrod greets them, warm. It is a sharp contrast to Artaresto’s coolness, the cutting edge of his formality. He stands, and tries not to seem too visibly relieved by it.

“Your necklace is the work of the Khazad, in the mountains,” Curufin says, in lieu of any true greeting. His eyes gleam the way they once did in fair Aman, a smith’s gaze, assessing quality and artistry, rather than being lent to cunning and cutting. It is good to see him look this way once more, rather than hollow and lit with the terrible flame of the Oath. His resemblance to his father has only increased, but he is much wearier than Fëanáro ever was.

Finrod does not get to answer before his nephew speaks.

“Kneel,” Artaresto says softly, from next to him. “Before the King of Nargothrond.” Never has Finrod heard his nephew so speak, iron-willed and vicious. But the fall of Minas Tirith to Sauron has changed him, made him more suspicious, and Finrod cannot yet blame him for this. But he still mislikes it. Those are not the marks of kingship. Nor, he thinks, is it the best way of dealing with his cousins. Fëanor’s get are proud and flighty, Tyelko and Curvo more so than most- the former laconic and dangerous, ever the skilled hunter, and the latter has more than earned his father-name. It still aches to think of, at times; Curvo’s admiration of him had been endearing when they were younger, but after the Oath, Finrod had not known whether to shake him or curse him for folly. But his cousins have not been gifted with foresight; that belongs to his father’s line alone.

Still. They kneel, and Finrod inhales sharply, subtly. He had not expected this. The first to do so is little Tyelperinquar, though he is little no longer. He does not look unhappy about it. The second is Tyelkormo, sinking gracefully to a single knee. It is a shockingly traditional Noldorin bow; Finrod wonders at its insolence now. And Curufinwe, second of his name, is third to do so, but his head does not incline more than the barest degree, and there is that fell flame in his eyes once more as his gaze bores into them.

(Once, he knew well the intensity of being at the center of Curvo’s attention, and he had revelled in it. It was like the heat of the flames he used in the forge, white hot. Finrod had watched him there once, in those years of light, when they were young and not yet grown out of their fathers’ shadows. He had seen Fëanor’s favored son handle molten metal with his bare hands as his father did, and shape it to his will. The red-white glow had clung to sweat-slick skin, his hair tied back in working braids not quite suited to a Prince of the Noldor. Finrod had been surprised to find beauty in that intensity, in the cousin who had seen them as naught but foes, even then.)

(Curvo had warmed to him. It had taken a lot of work. The memory glows in his chest, even now. Smiles, coaxed out carefully; touches, when they could be spared; more besides as the  thrum of the connection between them deepened, little by little. Finrod did not so much fall, in those days, as he had sauntered vaguely downwards, until he was in the middle of it yet had not even noticed, until they were closer than any other pair, Curvo’s walls slowly lowering around him and Finrod himself growing more than fond of his most prickly cousin.)

(And then.)

(Well.)

(His uncle had quite the temper, and he and Curvo had ever followed in their father’s footsteps.)

(Or, Curvo had. Finrod knows not what his own father must have thought, to see his children refuse to turn back, lured across the ice by the promise of lands of their own. Ambition, he thinks wryly, has always been a Fëanorian trait, not one. But forgiveness, but love over all, even wisdom? That, he thinks, he has learned from his father, though Arafinwë had not embodied it when last they had stood together.)

And how it must cost them, his proud cousins, to kneel before him now.

He wonders if he ought to feel powerful. He doesn’t. He feels uncomfortable, magnified by the fact that none of them (Tyelperinquar excepted) seem to be attempting to mask their displeasure at being made to kneel. Fëanorian pride indeed, he thinks, with a hint of the fondness that lay slumbering inside him in the long years they have not seen each other.

“They did make my necklace,” he answers, belatedly, as a peace offering. “It is called the Nauglamir, one of the finest gifts I have received.” And this is not a statement to offend; anyone who looks upon it would be able to tell the truth.

Perhaps he should have predicted that Curufin would take it personally.

Finrod does not wear the jewellery Curvo had gifted him, all those years ago. He has but a lone ring and two beads for his hair, both of which he had worn across the Ice. The other gifts by his cousin’s hand lie across the sea. He had not thought of it, until now- but there is no doubt that Curufin has noticed what he is and is not adorned with.

But there is no answer, to his words. An offer made and rejected. His nephew bristles at his side, and Finrod lifts a hand to silence him before he can speak.

“I see you’ve taught your kin to heel,” Curufin says, amused and wicked-soft. “Perhaps Tyelko ought to take lessons from you when it comes to that beast of his.”

“Father-,” Tyelpe starts, only to be cut off by his uncle. The tempering influence is clear. Celegorm and Curufin have always been together, antagonists and allies to each other in turn.

“No need for jealousy, brother dear; none other than I could be Huan’s favorite,” comes the retort.

Yet something feels forced about their banter.

“He is welcome to the kennels, if you like,” Finrod breaks in, with smile that is only slightly forced. “For as long as you are here- though you have yet to say your purpose in this visit, and my dear nephew would be greatly soothed to hear it.”

Curufin’s eyes flick to Orodreth, then away. Assessed and dismissed, and his nephew takes it as a slight.

“Yes,” he says. “I am sure he would. Well, O King, it simple. We have come to reunite with those of our folk who came here after the Bragollach; we had thought most would be in Himring with Maedhros, but instead they fled here.”

“And we cannot blame them, for it is grim in those mountains,” Celegorm adds. “Your realm, we hear, has a much warmer welcome.”

Ah.

Finrod feels as if there is an arrow in the distance, notched and waiting, pointing at him. Aimed, ready to be fired.

He cannot deny them, when he has not denied their folk. It is too obvious a slight. And truth be told, he has missed them, he has missed his cousins.

He has missed Curvo.

And there would be two others to assist his nephew, when he is gone on his trips, both of them experienced leaders in their own right.

Yet.

He hesitates. He knows that Curufin sees him hesitate, hears it in the sharp inhale, sees it in the way his nostrils flare.

These are not the cousins he loved. They are leaders, yes, but they are ruthless; they had to be, to hold their lands for so long. Grim Maedhros was made so by his time as a captive, but it had shaped his brothers, too. And there is a hollowness to their fëa, too, something that gnaws and bites. Claws in the dark, hidden, fangs under soft lips.

But have they not always been so?

He finds it difficult to convince himself of it this time.

But they need an answer, he cannot deliberate, and- well. Perhaps there was only ever one answer. He knows what Artaresto would say, yet the decision is his to make, and his alone.

The mistake, is his to make.

A breath, the arrow flies.

Finrod stands before his throne, arms outstretched.

“For the love which I bore you in Aman, for our shared blood-,” and oh, Finrod does not miss the way Tyelkormo must rest a hand on his brother’s arm, nor the way Curufinwe ducks his head in a long-familiar motion, so that the fall of his dark hair hides his expression, -“you may stay.”

“Thank you.” Tyelpe is again the first to speak, and he does his father no favors in this. He looks like his father, yes, but there is much of his mother in him too, and Finrod’s heart twists in his chest. Ah, how they had grown apart. He had not thought that Curvo would have a son, he had not found out until the child was presented for its naming ceremony. Curufinwë Tyelperinquar, third of his father-name, third of dark hair and silver eyes, though his did not burn as his grandfather’s, nor cut like his father’s. Finrod finds himself staring even now, thinking that despite the harshness of Beleriand, he still has a softness to him that Curvo had not in Valinor.

They rise smoothly, Celegorm first, then him, then Curufin.

Steel-silver eyes, bright and hollow as an imploding star, bore into his own.

“Yes. Thank you, O King, for your hospitality.” Curufin’s lips shape the words, tone just shy of disrespect.

You will be the one kneeling tonight, cousin, his expression says.

“I could not deny my cousins,” Finrod demurs instead. “Come, now. I shall show you where most of your people currently dwell- and cousin, if you wish to join me in a hunt tomorrow, there shall be a feast?”

Celegorm’s eyes flicker. “It would be my pleasure, cousin.”

Curufin matches him, stride for stride, as they leave the court, and the hairs at the back of Finrod’s neck rise as Celegorm prowls behind him. Tyelpe is a brush of familiarity behind his uncle, but not one that serves to comfort him.

His chest aches, and he feels blood iron-bitter and foul flood his mouth, and Finrod thinks, ah. There it is.

[shaekingshitup]

MIRACLES HAPPEN

DAY ONE: TANGERINE

A/N: Y’ALL! I WAS DUPED! @teakturn puts out a 25 Days of Christmas every year and my dumbass said I would do it too. But I decided to add a little diversity to the culture and we’re doing a Chrismukkah adventure this year on this blog! This is picking up after this request that I got earlier this year. None of this shit is proofread because I am literally just writing by the seat of my pants so read at your own discretion. I will probably end up rewriting this entire mini series in the future. But enjoy it now. If you wanna be tagged, lmk! Also, I know that in In Sight I said there was a cure for COVID. Swap that out for a vaccine y’all. Viruses can’t be cured. 

Word Count: 2300 

DAY ONE: TANGERINE

December 18, 2022

“Baby you ready?!” Tre called into the house as reached into the basket on his way to the garage. He came up empty handed for the keys to his Lexus. Opening the door to the garage, he saw Sol sitting in the passenger seat of the running car. 

Tre walked over to his baby as Sol smirked at him. 

“You late again,” she said. 

“I’m never late,” Tre said opening the door and climbing in,  “You just early as always,” he shot back as he put the car in reverse. Sol playfully rolled her eyes. After two years of being together, this was always their running joke. The first time they’d met, she’d been pacing back and forth awaiting his arrival. Even after finding their own groove, she still found herself being the one waiting for him- but, he always made it worth it so it was hard for her to complain.

Tre pulled out of the driveway and clicked the remote to shut the door. Out of instinct, his hand went to Sol’s thigh when he put it in drive. “Did you grab my yarmulke?” Tre asked as he threw her a glance. 

“Please don’t insult me. This ain’t my first feast Nemo.” the indignant manner which she spoke had her and Tre struggling to keep in their bouts of laughter. “Yes, baby. They’re in the backseat.” 

“Good. Good. What’s the other name for them again?” Tre asked as he merged onto the nearly empty highway. A five a.m call time could be a blessing and a curse. 

“Kippah” is the Hebrew word for the male cap and “kippot” is the Hebrew word for the female cap.” Sol answered on autopilot as she mused on their situation. She was still taken aback that they’d been contacted by Black Juice to begin with. She’d been following them ever since they’d done that feature with Drake talking about how his own Jewish faith influenced his career path. Although she wasn’t as active in her Jewish faith as she’d wished she’d been in recent years it was still a huge victory to be acknowledged by the leading Black Jewish media network. Okay so maybe they were the only Black Jewish media network. But that definitely meant they were in the lead! She wasn’t stupid to think that this kind of opportunity would have come without Trevante in her life. But, she wasn’t gonna knock it either. 

This 8 Days of Miracles was the perfect task she needed as she figured out what the next step was for her career. Now that she’d finally finished her academic portion of her career she wasn’t sure how to proceed. So throwing herself into this project and hosting both her family and Tre’s for the holidays was the best distraction she could ask for. This time always gave her hope and made her realize that any kind of bullshit she’d put up with wasn’t in vain. It was her annual reset. New Year’s be damned. It also made her feel closer to her father and there wasn’t anyone in this world she’d loved more. At least that’s what she’d thought. She felt pressure on her thigh from the number one contender for her heart as Tre gave her a slight squeeze. 

“What’s on ya mind Sunshine?” Sol looked down at his hand and couldn’t help but cheese. She still beamed every time he called her by that nickname. 

“I was thinking about my dad and how proud he’d be to see me reppin his faith,” Sol said absentmindedly touching her necklace. Tre listened attentively as he grazed his thumb against her thigh in a gentle motion. “ I mean, I don’t know if he could have known that all of the years he instilled in us the value of miracles when we were children we’d still be celebrating Hanukkah after he was gone.” 

“I’m sure he didn’t know.” Tre started out slowly. He honestly wasn’t even sure if she’d finished her thoughts, “But, he probably hoped you would.” The phone rang as they turned off the street and into the lot. “STEPH 👷🏿‍♀️💪🏿” flashed across the Caller ID on his dashboard. Tre clicked the answer button on his steering wheel as Sol handed him his badge to show to Nico, the Security Attendant. 

“We’re at Security Steph,” Tre answered as he nodded at Nico. 

“Okay good. I just wanted to make sure we were starting the day off on time.” Tre and Sol shared a glance. 

“Woman don’t start with me. Call time is 5 and it’s 4:39. We don’t play that late shit over here and you know it.

“Well,  I also grabbed your favorite donuts from Craft Services so no one else would steal them and I wanted to know how long I had to hoard them for your ungrateful self. I can put them back if you’d like sir,” 

“Steph. You can ignore Tre.” Sol chimed in. “We appreciate you and will be walking in the door in exactly 2 minutes. Tre is parking as we speak. We’ll see you soon.”

“Tre, you lucky you have her. Keep her if you want to keep the best managent in town. Bye y’all!!” Steph sang as she hung up. Sol let out a cackle because Steph refused to be referred as anything other than a managent as Tre stood there dumbfounded at how he was being left out to dry. But he knew better than to go against two black women before he’d even finished his morning coffee. He just hopped out the whip and opened Sol’s door so she could do the same. 

Once they’d gotten their morsels of food, gone through hair and makeup and snapped a few photos for Black Juice and their own social media accounts, they were back on the road headed deeper into LA. They had a cameraman in the backseat filming their every move, one car guided them to their location and another followed them as they maneuvered through the cars that were poppin up for their morning commutes. Sol was on her IG live and answering any questions that popped up about where they were headed and her Hanukkah festivities. She watched as the number quickly jumped from 5,000 viewers to 13,000 and counting. She wasn’t sure what this many people were doing up at this hour but she wasn’t complaining. Tre’s mama was of course one of them. He was a mama’s boy through and through and she was always there to support him at any opportunity she could. Sol made sure to greet her specifically. Tre bopped his head to some Jill Scott- being careful not to let his yarmulke fall. Sol sipped some hot cocoa from her thermos and sang off key with him. As soon as they turned on a residential street, she felt awash in a new warmth that the hot chocolate couldn’t touch. She shook Tre’s arm enthusiastically. 

“It’s time!!” she beamed, “Are you ready?!” Tre chuckled at her immediate change in attitude. The car in front was already parked and the camera crew was out on the sidewalk. 

“Yes Sol. I’m ready to spread some holiday cheer. Let’s go make somebody’s day he said. Before Tre could even put the car in park, she was reaching for the handle” 

“AHT AHT AHT” Tre barked out loud causing the cameraman man in the backseat to jump,“ Tre was already exiting the driver’s side and pointed his finger at her as he crossed in front of the car “Don’t even try it.” Sol rolled her eyes and pouted as she waited the few seconds for him to open her door. 

“Thanks Tre,” she stuck out her tongue. She was like a kid in a candy store and was ready to full out sprint to the front door. The IG live comments were flying. 

Okay Daddy Tre! I need a mans to talk to me like that. 🥵🥵

Did this man just bark at her? 🐶

Loook so long as he handles this backdoor he can open any other door that he pleases sis!

Y’all females is wylin as usual. 

Sol glanced at them. “Imma need y’all to stay out of grown folks’ business and just enjoy this holiday work we are puttin in okay” She handed her phone to another crew member and grabbed Tre’s hand to drag him to the front door. 

She pushed the button for the doorbell but no sound rang out. Tre gave three succinct raps on the door and heard someone rushing down the stairs. The door was flung open by a woman in black slacks and a blinding blue polo emblazoned with a nametag that ironically labeled this young woman as “Tangerine”. She couldn’t be more than 25 years old and the toddler saddled on her hip only added to her youthful appearance. 

“Hi Tangerine,” Tre began, “My name’s Trevante and this is Sol,” he gestured to Sol at his side. 

“Hi?” Tangerine answered confused at this couple and the cameras that followed them. 

“We’re here today with Black Juice, a local Black organization that highlights the experience of the Black Jewish community and we’re doing 8 Days of Miracles,” 

“Okay..” Tangerine said not sounding any less confused. “ I’m not Jewish.”  Sol took over as she could tell that Tre’s efforts weren’t getting them anywhere.

“We’re here because your friend Kira sent in a letter telling us about  how great of a mother you are. She said that you’ve been working two jobs here to support you and your daughter.” At this, Sol smiled at the baby, “She told us that the second job you have is for daycare expenses alone.  We wanted to come out here today and let you know that we see what you do and how hard you go to make sure you give your daughter the best. So, we wanted to help you out and give you this. “ Tre gave her the envelope he had in his hand. It read “Day 1: Tangerine”

Tangerine took the envelope as Tre explained. “We’ve paid for your daughter’s child care for the next two years so you can give yourself a break.” She opened the envelope to see the receipt from Tiny Tots Kindercare and didn’t even know what to do. 

“I don’t know what to say.” She paused for a moment as what this truly meant registered in her mind. “I can quit this job and actually spend more time with my baby and focus on my candles.” 

“Your candles?” Sol asked. 

“Yeah. I make candles by hand. I took a few classes and have played with a few scents. Some friends have asked me to make them some and I’ve been waitin to be a little more secure with my money before I start at it.” she answered exhaling deeply. 

“Do you have any candles right now?” Tre asked peeking a little further in her apartment. Sol slapped his arm. 

“Could you be any nosier?” she chastised with love. 

“Yeah I have some. Do you mind holding Layla?” she asked but she practically threw the child into Sol’s arms as she ran to grab her stash of candles. Sol put on her sweetest voice and spoke to Layla about how old she was and if she liked her friends at daycare. When her mom came back Sol could see the sheer joy that she had when showing off her handiwork. 

Tangerine went through all six of her candles and their various scents with them and by the end Tre had bought each one. She was floored and couldn’t do anything but cry at the way her morning was turning around. It wasn’t even 7:30 and she’d already gotten 2 years of childcare, a reason to quit her grocery store job and someone who actually wanted to buy her candles. 

Before they left, Tre made her promise to hit him up when her site and IG were live so he could get more candles and share it with all of his friends. Sol returned Layla to her mother saying her goodbyes and grabbed Tre’s hand to head back to car. She leaned on his shoulder and he could see the contentment in her eyes. Sol almost forgot her phone before a crewmember handed it back. 

She came back to the IG Live trying not to get too emotional. “Look at that y’all! Day one of Hanukkah is off to a start and we’ve already proved that miracles happen! Y’all better stay tuned in over the next week so you can see who we pop in on next. You never know if it could be you! Thanks to Black Juice for giving us this opportunity to turn someone’s ordinary day into something smile about. Y’all betta check them out so you can see the full footage of what we’ve got goin on! Bye y’all!

“Bye y’all!” Tre called out. They answered a few more questions with Black Juice, said their goodbyes and climbed back into their car. 

“Can we go back to bed now?” Tre asked as he pulled back onto the main road and his hand founds Sol’s thigh again. Sol laughed. 

“I mean if that’s what you prefer we can. I had some other things in mind.” she suggested. 

Tre raised his eyebrow. “I swear you see one baby and you always go 0 to 100”

“Look, I just believe in practicing all aspects of having a child! Even the making part.” 

Tre threw his head back laughing. “I’m wit it babygirl”

DING! 

“That’s me” Sol said. She looked at her phone screen. A text from “Mama Rhodes” popped up.  She’d sent some Pinterest looking bible verse again. 

This was the third one this week. It dampened her mood immediately and caused her to groan. The text read: 

Seeing you with that little girl made me so happy for the good Christian grandbabies that you and Tre will be blessing me with in the future. I thank Jesus for the miracle of you and my baby everyday XO. 

“Tre, I got another one from your mom. When are you gonna talk to her?” 

Tre sighed. “I promise. I’ll talk to her soon and it will definitely be before your Chrismukkah Extravaganza. Don’t sweat it baby.” 

Sol did her best not to think about how pushy his mother was being about this raising Christan grandbabies nonsense ever since they announced they’d be partnering with Black Juice. All she could do is trust Tre and do what she was best at: wait. 

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

@ghostfacekill-monger @thadelightfulone

[nightfayre]

a donation drabble request for the ever kind and supportive Ayobami @tps31! thank you SO MUCH for your donation and support!! you’ll never know how much it means to me <3

prompt: tianshan quarantine fluff, aka “why the hell am I stuck in a house with you all day every day?”

(a/n: this is just a random thought but I honestly don’t think I’ve written a fic about the boys still in middle school like, ever, so thank you so much for this prompt! it was so refreshing to write them as the flustered, airheaded, and teasing boys they are!) <3

tianshan, 3600 words, rated T

*   *   *

Guan Shan hates this. 

The laundry basket next to his. The pair of shoes at the front door. The extra toothbrush in his bathroom, and the second phone charger plugged in next to his bed. There’s a gray duffel bag taking up the corner of his bedroom and a black jacket draped over the back of his desk chair. None of it takes up too much space, carefully put into their respective places and never crossing the boundary, but—

Guan Shan hates it.

And, what’s worse: he never asked for this. He was stupid enough to mention He Tian’s name at the dinner table one night; a passing comment he hadn’t really thought about. But then his mother had paused with a spoonful of miso soup at her lips, pensive.

“He Tian,” she’d echoed, as if the name felt foreign but sweet on her tongue. “Isn’t that the one who lives near the center of the city? The one who lives alone? The tall and polite and handsome one of your friends?”

“Uh,” Guan Shan had said, smirking with distaste. “Yeah. Sure. That one.”

“Poor thing. Alone throughout all of this mess.” She sighed. “Why does he not live with his family?”

And Guan Shan had thought about it for a moment, sifting through his mind like pressing rewind on a VHS. “I don’t know,” he’d admitted, reaching for the soy sauce. “Never asked.”

She nodded, thinking. “Well, you should invite him over, then.”

Guan Shan choked. 

Oblivious, his mother had continued: “Have him stay a few nights. No one should be left alone throughout this entire period. Who knows how long this will last, what with how many cases that have been reported. He’ll go stir crazy by himself, poor soul.”

“He’s already stir crazy,” Guan Shan said, eyes watering from a dislodged grain of rice. “I don’t want him here, ma. I’ll literally do anythin’ else. Seriously.”

She’d given him a disappointed look. “Ah-Shan, I thought I raised you to have a little more compassion than that.”

“Trust me, a person like him doesn’t need compassion.”

“Now, you don’t know that,” she reprimanded. She tapped her chopsticks against her bowl, succinct. “After we finish dinner, you should reach out to him and invite him to spend the week with us.”

“A week?”

“Well, now that school is postponed and I’m working from home, wouldn’t it be nice to have company for a bit?”

“Ma, please—“

“You will text him, Ah-Shan. No excuses. The world needs kindness right now, and we will do whatever we can to contribute to it.”

And that, unfortunately, was that. 

That night, Guan Shan deleted the message immediately after he sent it, as if that would erase it out of his memory, too. But it was hard to forget the string of skeptical yet blaringly enthusiastic string of response texts that followed the invite, and even harder to forget the sight of He Tian at their front door half an hour later, duffel bag slung over his shoulder and smile bright as he greeted Guan Shan’s mother with practiced sweetness and feigned gratitude. 

Guan Shan hated it. 

But as his mother shot him a warning look, Guan Shan couldn’t do anything about it. Couldn’t just ignore him like he did, sometimes, at school.

And now, five days in, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Little Mo, are you naked?”

Running a towel over his hair, Guan Shan scowls at his reflection in the mirror, still foggy from the steam. “Fuck off, chickenshit.”

“I’m kidding.” He can hear the smile in He Tian’s voice. “I just need to brush my teeth.”

“Then you can wait.”

“It’s been twenty minutes, sweetheart. Are your showers usually this long?”

“That’s an average fuckin’ time for showers!”

A hum, muffled by the closed door. “Really? Mine only take ten, and that’s generous considering the precious amount of time I spend washing my—”

The thunk of the lotion bottle against the door rattles its hinges. “Fuck off!” 

He waits until he hears He Tian’s footsteps recede. Guan Shan hates that he knows He Tian is walking away with that smug-as-all-hell smile, satisfied. 

He dresses quickly after that, doing his best to ignore the citrus-scented face wash by the faucet and the contact lens case by the hand soap. The first time he’d seen all of He Tian’s things laid out like this on his bathroom counter was something like a revelation. It was like some things clicked into place, unbidden. Now it makes sense why Guan Shan sometimes thinks he catches a whiff of lemonade every time He Tian gets too close, and why He Tian looks like he’s scowling whenever he reads but, really, it’s just because he’s blind as a fucking bat and has to squint to see fine print. 

If nothing else, Guan Shan suspects at least something valuable might come out of all this time he’s forced to spend together with He Tian — (read: blackmail) — but then again, He Tian hasn’t commented on the old, stained state of Guan Shan’s pillow like Guan Shan thought he would because he’s used it since he was four and can’t really sleep well if he’s not using that specific pillow. And he also hasn’t said anything about the way Guan Shan jumps, sometimes, when the toaster springs up his toast in the mornings because he never fucking sees it coming and it — sometimes — causes him to drop his jam knife.

A stalemate, Guan Shan supposes as he pulls his shirt over his head. Except, deep down, he knows that He Tian probably isn’t even aware that such a concept exists. After all, what would He Tian be if not someone to fight ‘til a broken victor is left standing? 

By the time Guan Shan walks out into the living room, it’s ten o’clock. His mother, having finished washing the dishes because Guan Shan made dinner, is nowhere in sight, likely huddled up in her bedroom with a book like she always does before bed. That leaves He Tian alone on the couch, casually flipping through TV stations in a t-shirt and sweats, and he doesn’t see Guan Shan at first when the latter turns the corner. 

“Bathroom’s open, dipshit,” Guan Shan mutters. He Tian looks up as Guan Shan approaches, settling on the opposite end of the couch.

“About time.” He Tian tosses Guan Shan the remote, and he barely catches it before it smacks against his chest. Standing, He Tian smiles and says, “Find something good to watch by the time I get back, okay?”

“I don’t work at your beck and call,” Guan Shan seethes. But despite his retorts, his fingers find the remote buttons as He Tian saunters back to the bathroom, hands in pockets and steps quiet against the creaky floors. 

For a while, there really is nothing interesting on any of the channels. Guan Shan flies past a romcom, an old horror film, a few cartoons, the dreaded news. Nothing catches his attention — and he feels exhaustion coming on quick. He thinks, maybe, of just going to bed. But behind the apartment’s thin walls, he can hear the water running from the faucet. Despite himself, he frowns. 

It’s odd, really. He never thought he could get used to the image of He Tian’s broad frame hunched over his sink in the mornings, or the way He Tian can reach the bowls at the top of the cupboards without going on his toes, or the sight of He Tian’s nape pressed against the twin-sized air mattress on the floor of Guan Shan’s bedroom. He never thought anyone could make his mother laugh as much as he can, or finish puzzles as fast as he can, and he certainly never thought that his mother would spill Guan Shan’s childhood stories to someone she’d only met... once? Twice? He doesn’t keep track. He never had to before. 

Nevertheless, it’s not nearly enough time to warrant such trust. Such comfort. 

Guan Shan hates it. 

But in the midst of his lamenting, the faucet shuts off. A few moments later He Tian returns. And when he plops back onto the couch — too close — he smells of mint and vanilla-scented chapstick. 

Too aware of his presence and the way his knee almost touches Guan Shan’s, Guan Shan takes a long second to snap back to reality when He Tian asks, “What’s this?”

Guan Shan blinks. On the TV, there’s some kind of documentary playing. A narrator drones over the images of a complex space aircraft, and the camera pans out to show footage of the stars it swims in. As the screen switches to an interview of someone very important-looking in a suit, Guan Shan scowls.

“I don’t know. Nothin’s on.”

He Tian stretches his arms above his head, long and lithe. “Well,” he says, drawn with a sigh, “if you’re trying to put me to sleep, it might actually work.”

“Fuck off, I don’t control the damn stations,” Guan Shan bites. “And you shouldn’t be tired to begin with. You did jack shit today, just like every other day.”

He Tian looks at him, the corners of his eyes softened with drowsiness in a way that Guan Shan has become used to seeing. 

“That’s not true,” He Tian says. “I went with you to pick up supplies so your mom can sew masks. And we went to get the mail downstairs. And I helped you go grocery shopping—“

“You fuckin’ stood there with the cart and didn’t help at all—“

“—and I chopped the onions and peppers for dinner. That’s a lot. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s a normal person’s life,” Guan Shan says, exasperated. “Honestly, what the hell did you do all your life until quarantine?”

He Tian seems to take a moment to genuinely think about his answer. “Homework,” he offers, brows a bit pulled. “Basketball. School, obviously. I usually go to the convenience store for dinner, but sometimes I’ll get takeout. And I don’t get mail, but my groceries get delivered to me, so.”

And then he looks at Guan Shan, almost as if expecting some kind of praising reaction — but Guan Shan can only stare. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Guan Shan says after a long moment. “That’s ridiculous and fuckin’ miserable. You live like a robot, and a broken one at that.”

Silence. Then He Tian sits up a little straighter, as if a puppetmaster had pulled on his strings.

“I mean, I used to take piano lessons,” he says, frowning as he rubs at his neck. “And Cheng took me to shooting ranges. And…” A pause. “Camping. Yeah, we went camping some weekends. Went to rivers and fished together all day. I caught a few sometimes.”

Guan Shan blinks. “What, are you tryin’ to prove somethin’ to me right now?”

And He Tian shrugs. “Maybe.”

The answer takes Guan Shan by surprise. But He Tian’s face is neutral — expression always so put together — and Guan Shan wonders if maybe He Tian is lying to him. Building up some kind of persona again just to tear it down later. Because, surely, with that much fucking money and privilege, the guy doesn’t just sit there in that empty apartment all day and twiddle his thumbs. Surely, with his reputation, he has a regular posse of socialites always seeking him out and inviting him to some kind of get-together or event. Surely, considering all that he is, He Tian doesn’t waste his time looking for, or teasing, or protecting, or calling up—

“Guan Shan?” He Tian says, mouth a little twisted. “You still awake?”

The low rambling of the space documentary suddenly seems louder. Guan Shan swallows, once, then forces himself to look away. 

“You make no fuckin’ sense to me,” Guan Shan mutters. Then: “When are you leavin’?”

“Ouch,” He Tian remarks in an empty but unsurprised tone, shifting back on the couch. After a moment, he shrugs and responds, “Depends. Your text said a week but your mom says forever.”

A scowl. “She didn’t fuckin’ say that.”

He Tian smiles. “No, she didn’t. But she did say as long as I wanted — which, really, isn’t that much different from forever.”

Guan Shan swallows; feels inexplicable heat crawl up his neck like a spider, and he clenches his jaw against it. 

“You should go live with your own family,” he says, staring ahead. “I’m sure they’ve got all the time in the world to shower you with attention.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees He Tian smirk. 

“If I didn’t want to live with them at the best of times, what makes you think I would want to live with them at the worst of times?”

Guan Shan considers that. “This… isn’t the worst of times.”

“There’s a pandemic with no cure killing hundreds of people every day,” He Tian says, bland. “School is practically cancelled. People aren’t going to work. You invited me over to your home, unprompted. Even I know, with all things considered, that these are pretty bad times.”

Guan Shan can’t argue that. Instead he stares at the television, watching an astronomer point out weird symbols on some kind of map. It takes a lot of concentration to focus on nothing. After all, if he shifts his gaze any more to the right, he’ll see He Tian. If he lets his eyes slide down any further, he’ll see the way He Tian’s knee is still too close to his own. Both are dangerous territories for dangerous thoughts, and he doesn’t want anything to do with either. 

After a moment of silence, Guan Shan says, “You know, you should get friends. Real friends, and not your fuckin’ fangirl group.”

He Tian raises a brow. “I have you and Jian Yi and Zhan Zheng Xi.”

“That’s not—” And then Guan Shan stops, frowning, because he’s not actually sure what their ragtag mess of a group isn’t. Instead, he swallows and pathetically hides behind: “I’m not your fuckin’ friend.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Or, maybe, it’s exactly what He Tian thought what he’d say. Guan Shan isn’t sure; he’s never fuckin’ sure when it comes to him. But it doesn’t stop him from tensing up when He Tian turns to face him, fully. Wholly. It leaves no escape, and Guan Shan realizes with a sour kind of reluctance that he has no choice but to look back.

“No?” He Tian asks, meeting his gaze. “Then, what are you to me?”

The way the television’s screen lights up He Tian’s face — it’s like looking at a painting, alone in the museum, at the dusk of day. Blue hues shine through his hair, dim, and his eyes are only bright enough to reflect the silhouette of Guan Shan sitting in front of him. It’s eerie, how the both of them are so undefined in this moment. Maybe, in a way, that’s easier. 

Guan Shan’s voice feels thick when he says, “I’m not answerin’ that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t— need to.”

“Why?” And then: “Overthinking it?”

Guan Shan flares. “What? What the fuck does that— No, I just— I don’t need to answer fuckin’ anything, asshole. I… I owe you jack shit.”

Silence responds to him. He Tian watches him; studies him. Guan Shan feels like a specimen under his gaze, split apart layer by layer under the microscope. He feels like, somewhere, something in him is splintering. And He Tian is watching it happen. 

“I don’t have a fuckin’ answer,” Guan Shan admits, sudden, like a sinner in a confession booth, heavy and quiet and raspy. “Okay? I told you, you don’t make any goddamn sense to me. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for my ma.”

He Tian soaks that in, almost as thoroughly as he takes in the sight of Guan Shan’s flushed scowl. 

“You didn’t want me here?” he says, teasing.

“No, dipshit. Every time you’ve been here hasn’t been because I asked you to be.”

He Tian smirks. “Ouch,” he says again, except this time it’s said in a way that pricks Guan Shan like a rose thorn.

Guan Shan pushes down the heavy feeling in his throat. “I don’t know what you were expectin’,” he says, truthfully. 

And then He Tian looks away, rolling his head. There’s a kind of empty look in his eyes that Guan Shan thinks he recognizes, and after a moment he realizes it’s the same look he’s seen in He Cheng’s eyes in the few rare times they’d crossed paths.

“I wasn’t expecting a pandemic,” He Tian says. His voice sounds loud in the small room. “I wasn’t expecting school break to get extended. I wasn’t expecting all the restaurants to close, and for all the store’s shelves to be wiped clean.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “But I guess, for some reason, I was expecting a text from you after weeks of nothing.”

It hits Guan Shan, hard and heavy, like a ring-laden fist against his cheek. The last time he’d seen He Tian before all of this mess was a month ago — more — and at the time, none of them had known that this is how it would turn out. How could they? It’d only taken a week for things to turn south, and Guan Shan was too busy worrying of how he and his mom were going to file for unemployment to think of the way his phone had been silent for longer than he’s been used to. 

He wants to pull it out right now; check his recent messages. It would be with a sort of disbelief when he would find the timestamp on He Tian’s contact, he already knows. But the shock wouldn’t come from his own lack of outreach. No, his perplexity would stem from He Tian, the same person who couldn’t go a single weekend without a conversation about nothing over Facetime back when things were normal. The same person who, apparently, hadn’t messaged him once until Guan Shan texted him that dreadful night five days ago. 

Had he been— testing Guan Shan?

“I didn’t reach out to anybody else,” Guan Shan hears himself saying. The words taste bitter as they leave his mouth. What is he doing? What does he have to justify? “I... It was weird, those first few days of the lockdown order, and my ma and I— we had a lot goin’ on. It wasn’t— I mean, I haven’t talked to Zheng Xi or Jian Yi this whole time either. I just... don’t have time. Or, I did, but it wasn’t urgent. I— yeah, I barely use my phone anymore, anyway. I’m always at home now so I just... don’t need it.”

He stops, his tongue feeling thick. He Tian isn’t looking at him, but he knows he’s listening. Somehow, the thought makes it even worse. 

“What,” He Tian suddenly says, and there’s a curl to his mouth that he can’t seem to help, “are you trying to prove something to me right now?”

“I—“ Guan Shan flares, teeth clenched and ears hot. “Fuck you. No, I’m not, asshole. I’m actually rescuin’ your damn pride, but apparently you’ve got too fuckin’ much.”

“Hey, hey,” He Tian says, wrapping his fingers around Guan Shan’s wrist when he makes to get up. “Come on. Don’t make me finish this documentary by myself.”

Guan Shan scowls. “I’m tired. Let go.”

“Then we can sleep on the couch,” He Tian replies — and then almost as if it were an afterthought: “again.”

Guan Shan warms at the implication of it. “Why the fuck would I do that when my room is around the corner?” he hisses. 

He Tian tugs his arm. “Because I’ll follow you anyway since I’ve only got two days left with you and I’m not letting today end like this.” He smiles. “We’re not sleeping yet. I’m selfish.”

“I could’ve fuckin’ told you that,” Guan Shan mutters, dry. But he relaxes, settling back on the couch, and eventually He Tian lets him go. The skin he had touched feels electric in his absence.

“Let’s make popcorn and ride this out,” He Tian says, settling against a throw pillow. His eyes, no longer empty, are content as they drift back to the screen.

Hand in chin, Guan Shan smirks. “We both brushed our teeth already. I’m not doin’ it again.”

“Tomorrow, then.” He Tian gestures to the TV. “Popcorn and something more interesting than this.”

“If you think this is so damn boring, then why are you still here?”

“When else will I find an opportunity to spend time with you like this after I leave?”

Guan Shan doesn’t respond. After a moment, He Tian huffs. 

“That’s when you’re supposed to invite me back over in the future, little Mo,” he says, amused. Guan Shan shoots him a warning look as the documentary goes to a commercial break. 

“Don’t push your luck,” he snaps. “And don’t try to convince my ma, either.”

He Tian hums, shifting, and Guan Shan suppresses a flinch when his knee presses up against his. Warm. “I hadn’t even thought about that. That might be the agenda for tomorrow, now.”

“I’m sick of you,” Guan Shan growls. And He Tian laughs, like it’s the funniest thing ever, how easily he can get under Guan Shan’s skin and force him to worry about nothing and get him to stay with him to watch shitty television all within the span of twenty minutes. How Guan Shan has managed to survive more than three days is an incredible feat. How he’s unable to chase away the thought of inviting He Tian over for dinner after he leaves, sometimes, is an inexplicable one. 

And when the documentary comes back on with a cheap intro jingle and the streaming quality of a disposable camera, Guan Shan feels He Tian’s foot hook against his and tries to convince himself, over and over:

I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

*  *  *

thank you for reading! likes/reblogs would be greatly appreciated, as this fic is dedicated to the Black Lives Matter movement. if you would like a fic/drabble written for you (and you want to support the BLM cause!), please see this post!

have an incredible week! <3

[delvalentine]

draft dump

once upon a time i had a plot bunny for a school genshin au in which the adults were teachers in a modern setting, and mc/reader was a TA working with them

i won't be revisiting that but it would be a waste to send the first draft to the void so here that is!

“And that brings our little guided tour to an end.” Mr. Zhongli turned around once reaching the front door, smiling languidly. “I hope it wasn’t too much to take in at once.” “No, I think I got everything.” You shoved the notepad deeper into your purse, taking a steadying breath. “Thanks for showing me around before orientation. It was really helpful.” “It was nothing. I do hope you’ll like it at our school, Ms. [Surname]. If there’s anything you’re unsure about, feel free to ask me—and if I’m not around, seeking out the vice principal should suffice.”

He caught your soured expression and chuckled deeply. The VP—Mr. Xiao—was not quite as amiable as the headmaster before you. You had tried to make a good impression by being polite, but the slender man had merely scowled through you like you’d insulted his mother’s mother or something. The memory of his scathing glare made your cheeks burn.

“He may be temperamental, but he’s unmatched at his work. Just try to catch him in a good mood and you’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure Xiao would know what a good mood looked like if it hit him in the face, but you brushed it off. The infrastructure here was breathtaking—as you’d expect from a boarding school so deeply steeped in history and so well-funded. Royal Celestia School, aptly named after the heavens, for there was no other institution so highly regarded in all of Teyvat. Graduates that called RCS their alma mater went on to forge great paths of success. Only the best of the best got to attend. Its newest hire: yourself, of course. You had applied for their TA position amongst many others, not really thinking you’d get it fresh out of post-secondary or anything. It didn’t hurt to try. But when you got the callback, you had to wonder if you had died and gone to heaven yourself.

“Now forgive my memory, but I seem to have forgotten who you told me you’ll be working with.”

Zhongli wasn’t just the principal—he was the founder of the whole shebang. He was as top brass as you could get, here, and he looked the part. Despite his age, he was incredibly sharp in his copper-black suit, and those warm honey-gold eyes weren’t helping with the whole tall-dark-and-handsome thing. Attractive looks aside, he was the overseer of all administrative operations, though rumour has it he was quite… spacey at his job. If anybody needed an assistant, it’d be him.

Xiao, the second in command, left a far less sweet taste in your mouth. You noticed the dragons tattooed on his arm in an impressive sleeve first, and the deeply beautiful look of calm second. It was as soon as he opened his mouth that he ruined it all. He was snappy and peevish. If Zhongli hadn’t been with you, he might very well have eaten you alive.

Speaking of grumpy men—Dr. Ragnvinder. You’d never had entirely good experiences with math teachers, and he was the living embodiment of all those hauntingly long questions you’d cried over on long nights. According to Zhongli, Diluc Ragnvinder was the one of the youngest in the teaching department to hold a PhD. During your meeting, he was nothing but cold and brief despite his fiery red hair and eyes. You loathed to think of how he’d crack down on you for not grasping a topic.

In stark contrast, Mr. Alberich was far more easy-going, if not a tad bit… seductive. He had a certain way of phrasing things with innuendo that kept you second guessing yourself, and if you weren’t careful, he’d easily take you off your feet. No wonder he specialized in the arts of literature. How you would’ve liked him to read excerpts to you in that suggestive tone of his.

Ms. Lisa had seemed to be cut of the same cloth, leaning in so close to you that you could smell the perfume wafting off the skin of her neck. The librarian oversaw one of the outlandishly largest collections of books you had ever seen in your life. (It wasn’t the only big set you’d noticed.) She invited you back with a smile, though it seemed less an invitation and more a given task to see her again.

Zhongli had then taken you to the theatre, equally as massive and ornate. You could imagine full opera shows occurring rather than silly school plays. Private school kids were a different breed entirely. Inside, a pair of men were practicing something together. There, you met Venti, who insisted you call him by first name alone. Beside him was the taller, leaner man named Childe, who assured you it wasn’t his real name, but that was a secret of the trade. Venti had a voice of an angel and played a lyre so daintily you were almost moved to tears. It was no surprise he taught music. And Childe, whose mere presence made you feel like he was putting on some sort of show, oversaw drama.

Next door was the gymnasium, which, once again, wowed you with its size. Perhaps Zhongli was hoping to train generations of Olympic athletes-slash-artists-slash-geniuses? A hearty dark-haired woman took you in with great familiarity, shaking your hand and inviting you to drinks before you’d even managed to introduce yourself properly. With the force Beidou had exerted in a mere handshake, you were afraid to think about being under her training regime in physical education.

A far more sobering presence, Ms. Ningguang looked to have the same stable ethereality as Zhongli did. As an educator of finance, you’d heard that she had single-handledly changed the entire stock market just to prove a point in her lecture. You had made a note to ask her about your taxes.

Keqing next door taught geography. Her classroom had been lined with maps and globes, each marked with such numerous and precise points that you felt like you couldn’t even recognize what each place was. She spoke to you with succinctness, like everything she said was pre-determined and you had better understand what she meant <i>or else</i>. But she was fairly warm in comparison to the men of earlier, and you’d take what you could get.

A room with even more clutter was Dr. Mona’s. Contraptions like Newton’s cradles, plasma domes, lava lamps, and even a wall-to-wall Ruth Goldberg machine made your head spin. Her eccentricity was clue enough to her role as a science teacher. Somehow in your short conversation, she managed to boast about herself a total of six separate times, but Zhongli quietly assured you that her claims weren’t unfounded. She was confident and intelligent, her blue eyes sparkling with knowledge. Spending a day with her sounded exhausting but thrilling.

The last classroom Zhongli showed you to was Jean’s, who was a startling calm presence right after exiting Mona’s Wonderland. She was a history teacher, well versed in lore and social sciences, and you couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy just talking to her.

“Well?” Zhongli nudged as you thought back on your day. “Which professor were you to help out with?” You answered…

[ollie-ollie-oxenfreee]

Council of Venice File #9647: Regarding Jester Lavorre, the Traveler and the disappearance of one “Robert Sharpe”

(File Notes Provided By: Bryce Feelid, Senior Council Member)

Jester Lavorre has been an individual of interest to our organization for quite some time. Her family members are some of the only direct siren descendants documented in recent years (Marion Lavorre, Jester’s mother, is herself the daughter of the renowned “siren of the southern coast” Annalise Lavorre), and her status as the heir of the Lavish Chateau gives her access to arcane and material resources most initiates could scarcely dream of.

Most worrying, though, is her connection to the entity known as the Traveler.

The Traveler is not a well - documented being - his history is vague and fiercely contested. Jester’s description of him - red hair, green eyes, cloaked in green and gold - is consistent with folkloric depictions of Celtic fae, but our envoys in the faerie courts do not recognize his name. He has evident ties to chaos magic, but the Dragon have been frustratingly tight - lipped on his powers may have manifested. Even Lavorre’s own cabal members have little to say about the being beyond a succinct “I don’t trust him, but I trust Jessie” from Veth Brenatto. 

Jester’s interactions with the Traveler seem to have begun in childhood. “I was pretty little when I met him, I think, I don’t remember it too well. It feels like he’s always been around, you know? Always been with me. Like when I summoned him it was just opening a door that was kinda sorta there but kept getting stuck. He grew up with me.”

When pressed on the matter of “summoning,” Jester notably went quiet. “I don’t really know how I did it. I haven’t had to since the first time he came around. Mama said that I picked flowers from the gardens around the Chateau and lined them up on my desk and pulled the petals off like he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not. I told her I was wishing for a friend. And when she left - there he was.”

The relationship between Jester and the Traveler from that point on seemed to work as a normal friendship (or as normal a friendship between a siren - daughter and an apparent fae can be). He did not ask her for the typical patron - follower offerings or sacrifices, content to help her play pranks and teach her the healing magic that she wields to this day. 

Things grew notably more complicated when Robert Sharpe entered the picture. Jester responded with immediate disgust at the mention of his name and elaborated:

“He was like this really gross and creepy guy who would bother my mama when she was working. He acted like he owned her. I hated it. One night he got super mad at her when she asked him to back off and I locked him out of the building and asked if the Traveler could please get him to leave her alone. And he hasn’t bothered us since then. So I guess it worked.”*

*Note - The body of Robert Sharpe was found in rural Ireland by a team of Templar agents, roughly six months after Ms. Lavorre’s interview was held. The team were reluctant to comment on the incident beyond the fact that his remains were in “disturbing” condition - thorns piercing through his skin; stinging nettles looped about his wrists like shackles; a rictus of fear frozen on his face long after death, his open, dilated eyes an unnatural shade of green. 

Jester asked the Traveler to take action, and so it seems he answered.

[bxngthedoldrums]

not to get sad but what do u think gabe n william were like just before they broke up:(

tldr: i have no idea but i def think william was the catalyst of the breakup. from what I can infer, they were a lot less Dramatique than petekey, and always communicated better than most other couples on the scene,,, anyway, i think it hurt gabe a Lot and i think william was a bit better at hiding it but that shit hurted

now,,, if ur interested in my justification and breakdown of this whole situation, read ahead:

HONESTLY the timeline of gabilliam is so difficult to grasp since we don't have a primary source in the way we do re: petekey so it's hard to say for sure BUT we can try and piece together things from their albums at the time

so fast times at barrington high came out Aug 2008, hot mess was Aug 2009, and lost in pacific time was Sept 2009. i think fast times is a valid source for what id consider the beginning of the end.

fast times is a fairly lighthearted album imo but there's a few songs to note here: automatic eyes, coppertone, and beware! cougar!. automatic eyes is rly telling imo "five years disappeared that night" so... five yrs prior to 2008 is 2003 which is abt the time gabe and william wldve met but ANYWAY.... automatic eyes seems to indicate some form of distrust/misunderstanding between the two of them,,, the whole. chorus,,, i mean!

coppertone is 1. my fav song on this album prob and 2. riddled with melancholy nostalgia for days past and some withering hope of the future. i can only presume that following automatic eyes, lyrics like "these mistakes are just a part of the ride" and "i still feel the same, no one's to blame" is Williams way of gripping for the sand slipping thru his fingers.

beware! cougar! is so undeniably gabilliam I truly can't believe they RELEASED THAT but anyway... "young love is ruthless so learn to fly" among others are tinged w such sadness and like? slight regret.... bruh

so that gives u an initial foundation of how william was feeling in 2008, tensions rising, etc. 2009 is when things get Inch Resting w the release of hot mess, with soul-crushing hits like fold your hands child and the world will never do

fold your hands child has historically been a point of interest for scene kids that ship gabilliam everywhere, and for good reason. it seems they were trying to??? patch up whatever bumps they'd experienced in 2008, but "i was the only one protecting you/now that im gone, how can we do the things we used to?" is like. 👁️👁️.

the world will never do is rly sad lmao "there's no me without you" etc,,, i honestly think late spring 2009 was the last time gabilliam was together, and what caused that split? let's take a look @ lost in pacific time,,

other than being tai's last EP it also has 3 sad ass songs that Definitely seem indicative of a breakup,,, sputter??? bitch.... "but all along I knew that we would sputter out",, new york is so heartbreaking too lmao and IN THE REARVIEW????

in the rearview is so damning imo,, with lyrics that, to me, clearly allude to gabe??? homie... HOMIE....... but in summation, and to answer your ask in a succinct way, i do think william was the one who broke up w gabe, rather than the other way around. by 2008 something had already Happened and william was shook up by it, but they tried real fuckin hard to smooth it over

obviously that did Not Work and by 2009 they were separated, as far as I can guess. they have the benefit of not ending as poorly as petekey did, as I imagine their communication was a bit more clear. there's a lot less bitter breakup songs from the both of them post-2009 in comparison to pete, and they still got along each time they've seen each other since