#I love it when fics explore both of their traumas and both of their characters

[valewritessss]

Why is it that most of the time they either make Annabeth seem like Percy’s mother or they make her a tool for him to be more angsty and dark and disregard all of her character and trauma? Can we normalize making them equals

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

author’s note thank you to this anon!! this fic deviates from canon. timeline is s2 when rafe is at his most unhinged.

» masterlist

disclaimer there is no explicit s/xual assault scene in this story, but it is referenced and the trauma that comes with surviving it is explored. it is committed by an original character. when writing this, i pulled from personal experience, so please be mindful that if you comment, do not engage in any victim-blaming as it is triggering to me and others.

·········

In a single harrowing moment, you’ve learned that there’s truth to the expression that the enemy of your enemy can be your friend.

Rafe looks all too comfortable holding a gun. The rage coursing through you is deafening, persuading you that the person he’s pointing it at deserves to die.

And then, you utter the words rising in your throat.

“Do it.”

╰┈➤ two days earlier

Your shifts at the country club are a repetitive motion of driving over the golf course’s hills, handing the island’s wealthiest people their overpriced drinks, and accepting their money with a fake smile.

The job was always a predictable bore. Until a week ago, when you started seeing a familiar face.

The moment Rafe’s eyes landed on you and he realized that one of the Pogues he revels in berating is the new cart girl, his lips twitched into a smirk.

Every time you see him, he does the same thing. He orders a beer and says here you go, sweetheart when he tips you.

It’s always a fifty. No other club member gives you nearly this much. It’s like he loves reminding you that this type of money is pocket change to him.

Every time you serve him, you subdue your glare and take the crisp bill that sits between his fingers, wondering why even though the man is an arrogant asshole, you can’t stop staring at him.

You feel weak for not hating him all the way. You can’t help that over the years of your tense, sporadic interactions, a part of you has always wondered if he feels the same pull of attraction that you do.

You have to remind yourself of who he is. A man committed to letting everyone know how much better he thinks he is because he was lucky enough to be born into money. He’s heartless. And you can’t wait for the day that you finally rid yourself of this fixation you have for him.

It’s a sunny Thursday afternoon at the end of a long shift and you’re parked by one of the paved pathways on the course, recording your last transaction in your logbook.

You hear the familiar whirring of a cart passing by. It stops. You don’t think much of it until you hear his voice.

“We’ll take two beers,” he calls from behind the steering wheel. You look up to see him. Rafe.

“I’m obviously off duty,” you reply curtly, looking between him and his friend.

“What, so you can write in your diary, but you can’t give us some drinks?” he calls.

“It’s a logbook,” you reply coldly. “It’s called having–”

You flatten your lips together, trying to control yourself.

“Having…?” he challenges. The mocking tone of his voice is what makes you snap.

“A job,” you reply. “Not everyone can live off of daddy’s money.”

Rafe huffs a laugh, a wisp of amusement flashing on his face.

“Careful, Pogue,” he says. “What’ll your boss say if he knows that’s how you’re talking to me?”

“I’m off the clock, Kook,” you say the label with the same vitriol. “I can talk however I want.”

You close your book and start up your cart before he can irritate you any more. Even though there’s something aggravatingly magnetic about him, you refuse to allow him to taunt you any longer.

·········

You meet up with your friends on the beach that evening, zoning out as the three of them chatter around you, passing a joint you brought.

You stare ahead at the soft waves under the setting sun, thinking of Rafe’s cold stare, thinking of the smirk he seems to always have etched on his face reserved especially for you, thinking of how you wish your body would catch up with your mind because how can you dislike somebody this much but also be so attracted to them?

“Who’s your plug?” JJ asks, seemingly impressed. He pulls you out of your daze as he passes you the joint. Smoke curls out of the end of it, twisting in the wind.

“That guy, Porter,” you say flatly. You take a puff, thinking back to the shaggy-haired Kook who approached you at a party on the north side of the island the other night, offering you half the price on your first buy.

He also tried to convince you to try something harder, but you told him you’re sticking to pot. You weren’t about to get hooked on coke, especially not because a drug-dealing Kook wants to take more of your money.

You continue to stare ahead, passing the joint along.

“What a trust fund kid name,” JJ laughs. “Fuckin’ Porter.”

Your friends chuckle around you, but you continue to stare ahead.

“Hard day at the office?” he says in response to your absentmindedness. You meet JJ’s gaze, shaking your head as if to dismiss your own thoughts.

“Rafe is such an asshole,” you say.

“What’d he do this time?” Pope asks. Your friends await your response, already well aware of your history with the bullshit you’ve ever had to deal with at work lately.

“He said something about ratting me out to my boss for talking back to him,” you reply. You scoff, getting mad all over again. You need to pull yourself out of this funk. “Whatever. All I do is complain about him. He’s not worth it. This is the last time you’ll ever hear me talk about him. I mean it.”

You make an effort to join in your friends’ conversations, feeling guilty that you’re so spaced out. With parents who never give you much attention at all, the guys surrounding you are your family. Your brothers. They deserve better than to hear you ramble on about Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes travel over the silhouettes sitting along the darkening shoreline when he arrives at the beach with his friends.

It’s the sound of his pick-up truck’s door shutting that gets your attention. You look over your shoulder. Then, you glance away, indifference on your face.

It pisses him off. Rafe has always craved what he can’t have. Power. Self-control. You. Every time he talks to you, you act like he’s such a bother, a sharp thorn in your side.

You get under his skin. And he’s never wanted a girl this bad. A goddamn Pogue of all people. Something about you lures him in. It makes him want to see what really lies behind the irritation that burns in your eyes every time he speaks to you.

He needs to crack your armor. And he has always loved a challenge.

As the beach populates, the division between the Kooks and the Pogues is clear, as if an invisible line is drawn in the sand. He stays on his side, you stay on yours.

When night falls, you and your friends have all smoked through the entire joint, and you’re a bit buzzed but not nearly as high as you’d like to be.

You spot Porter by the shoreline, drinking with his friends, and dust the sand off your knees when you stand up.

“I’m gonna go buy some more,” you say to your friends.

“Going into enemy territory?” JJ asks.

“It’s nothing new to me,” you laugh. “I work in enemy territory, remember?”

“You need company? Or cash?” John B asks.

“All good. My treat,” you say. “I’m loaded with tips.”

You don’t mention that a majority of the money in your pocket is from Rafe.

As you approach the boisterous group, you cross your arms and feign confidence. In reality, being around these types has always put you on edge.

Kooks give off a sense of invincibility, almost impunity, like predators at the top of the food chain, perpetually safe from harm and always on the brink of inflicting it.

You notice Rafe’s stare on you from his place in the large group and your stomach twists. Your eyes flit off of him and you wonder how it’s possible to wish someone would stay away but also so deeply crave they’d come closer.

Truthfully, within the tangled way he makes you feel, you’re kind of scared of Rafe, too. He’s reckless and unpredictable. And yet, that side of him excites you. There’s a complexity to him that has an inescapable effect on you.

“You holding?” you ask Porter once you approach him. He’s one of the few Kooks you don’t mind so much. He doesn’t have the cold air of arrogance that you’re so used to.

“It’s good shit, isn’t it?” he says with a smile. “How much you want?”

You leaf through the bills in your hand.

“Just a joint,” you say. The waves crash behind you, almost drowning your voice out. You make the exchange and push through the crowd, eager to get back to your friends.

You thought you managed to get away without any complications, but two words stop you.

“You lost?”

You turn to see Rafe, overwhelming heat rushing through you as he closes the distance between you, towering over you as the breeze brushes his hair over his forehead.

“What, ‘cause I’m on your side of the beach?” you mutter. “Grow up.”

Rafe smirks. He gets such a kick out of fucking with the Pogues. Especially you.

“Is that what you’re spending my tips on?” he asks, eyes darting down to the joint in your hand.

“Yeah,” you answer. “You can tell your father I say thanks.”

Rafe’s mouth curls into a bigger smile. When he looks at you like that, like he wants to be around you, you wonder if he secretly enjoys your company.

“How long you been buying from him?” Rafe asks.

“Why?” you say. The way you glare at him makes every muscle in his body tense. He’d be an idiot to deny how attracted he is to you. “You gonna tell my boss?”

“It was a fucking joke,” he mutters with a laugh. “You Pogues all have sticks up your asses, I swear.”

You grit your teeth. He’s clearly pleased when he riles you up like this. You don’t understand how somebody could be so spiteful.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you say.

Silence settles between you, the chattering of people on either side of the beach intertwined in the air, an overlap of worlds far apart. He reminds himself that he has something important to ask you.

“Did he offer you anything else?” he says. You’ve already heard the gossip about how Rafe’s selling coke now. He must want to offer you a better price.

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you reply. Rafe scoffs, his tongue jutting under his cheek as he takes you in.

“I’d never sell to you.”

You huff a flat chuckle. You’re tired of his juvenile obsession with the class divide that sits between you.

“So, I’m good enough to serve you drinks, but not good enough to buy your drugs?”

You feel a sick sense of satisfaction when his face hardens with anger. For a second, you worry that you’re just as spiteful as he is, that you’re no better than him.

Rafe scoffs. He’s seen what coke does to people. To himself. He refuses to see it happen to you. But of course you expect the worst of him. Like everyone else does.

“Did he offer you anything else or not?” Rafe repeats with a note of irritation.

“Why?” you sputter.

“I need to know if he’s trying to steal from me.”

Rafe refuses to be in competition with anyone. Other Kooks can sell weed all they want, but coke is his territory, and if he has to claim his territory, so be it. He’s heard rumblings that Porter’s expanded his offerings now. And Rafe isn’t going to let him fuck him over.

“He did,” you finally answer. “Coke. He said it’s the purest on the island.”

He only nods tersely, lips twisting in frustration, before he turns around and storms away from you. So, that’s all he wanted from you. Information.

“You’re welcome,” you half-shout. Curiosity pulls you in as your eyes follow him into the crowd. Sure enough, Rafe pushes Porter to the ground, shouting indistinctly, earning jeers from the crowd.

It’s typical. Nearly every time you see Rafe out socially, he’s yelling and fighting someone. You walk back to your friends, hoping you can shake off the feeling he left you with.

·········

The only thing getting you through your shift the next day is that tomorrow is a holiday. The night of the Fourth of July is an escape from the stresses of your life, an excuse to get wasted with your friends under the fireworks and let yourself drift off into oblivion.

After you clock out, you’re pacing through the country club’s bar when you hear your name called from the patio. You look to see Porter sitting at a table with a couple of friends, his smile wide.

“Didn’t know you worked here,” he says when you approach.

“Yeah, I’m a server on the course,” you explain. You almost expect him to ignorantly ask for a drink, but have to remind yourself that he’s not like Rafe.

“How is it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Come on, we won’t tell,” Porter chuckles. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Only sometimes,” you reply with a laugh. “Depends on the day. And on the person I’m dealing with.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls out his phone, punching in the password. “I meant to tell you last night that you should have my number. You know, for when you need to stock up.”

You take his phone, cluing in that he’s making himself more accessible to you for the next time you need to buy from him. As you text yourself his name, one of the men at the table motions to Porter.

“Bro,” his friend says, gaze trained ahead. Porter looks past you to the bar and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Can’t escape him,” he sighs.

You follow his eyeline to spot Rafe at the bar with a friend, dark liquor sitting in the glass he’s holding.

“Not a fan?” you ask.

“Is anyone?” Porter laughs. “He’s a nutcase.”

“Don’t let him hear you,” his friend murmurs.

“Yeah, he’ll kill you,” the other guy laughs.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Porter replies.

Your eyes linger on Rafe a second longer than they need to. Your curiosity for why he’s the way he is is like a flame that won’t burn out. He has everything he could possibly want. Why is he so mean?

“Yeah,” is all you can say. You turn around again and give Porter his phone back.

“Oh, there’s a party at my beach house tomorrow night. My neighbor does this crazy fireworks thing every year,” he tells you. “I’ll text you the address.”

You nod appreciatively, glad that at least some of the rich people you deal with don’t buy into the idea that you’re beneath them.

·········

It’s nearing nine p.m. when you make it to the beach house the next night. The guys are rambling on behind you as you step inside the massive, humid house, filled with chattering people and loud music.

“Where are your car keys?” Pope asks.

“Right here,” JJ says, jingling them in front of his face. “Do I need to show you every five minutes?”

“I’ll just take them,” Pope says, grabbing them and stuffing them in his pocket. “You can’t be trusted.”

“It was one time,” JJ says. You laugh as you think of last weekend when he’d lost his car keys at a party in the Cut.

“Yeah, and we had to search the sand for, like half an hour,” you remind him.

“You know what I’m not hearing?” JJ says. “A thank you for driving all the time.”

“Remind me, who actually drove last time?” John B asks. “And who was hurling in the backseat?”

JJ scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m a man of honor,” he says. “I’m not not going to chug when I’m told to chug.” His eyes fix on something across the room. “Speaking of…”

He heads towards the keg and you and Pope share a disapproving shake of your heads. You follow your friends, grabbing a solo cup and sipping on beer.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with a text from Porter: You here? Want to buy?

You’ve already smoked through the joint you bought two nights ago and quickly reply: yes.

He texts: come upstairs.

“I’ll be right back,” you quickly tell your friends before you push through the crowd.

You duck under the string tied across the bottom of staircase, a sign that warns partygoers that it’s off limits hanging in the middle. One door is open in the upstairs hallway. You see Porter sitting on a bed, rolling a joint on a book that’s sitting in his lap.

“Hey. Got a fresh one for you,” he says.

“Thanks.” You dig into your pocket. “Same price?”

“Sure.” He cocks his head. “It’ll take a while. You can come in and chill.”

You sit at his desk close to the door, talking as he packs the thin white paper.

When he stands up, instead of giving the joint to you, he darts across the room abruptly. Your brows knit in confusion when he shuts the door, the loud music reduced to muffles now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, fear twisting your heart in a vise.

He must have read things wrong.

You assume he’ll stop when you tell him no.

He doesn’t.

·········

You fall to the hard floor. You grip the edge of the bed, hardly any light spilling into the room from the hallway as you blink rapidly to gain your bearings.

A loud slam was what woke you up. You don’t remember falling asleep. You don’t even know where you are.

Two shadowy figures stand on the other side of the room. One roughly pushes the other to the floor. You stay still, peeking over the bed. Your body is trembling with pain and you don’t know why.

“Do you think I’m joking?” a man spits.

You know that voice. It’s Rafe.

“Dude, relax,“ the man on the floor says.

You might be sick. It’s Porter on the floor, whimpering like an idiot. You remember why your body is aching now.

He hurt you. He hurt you and you retreated into your mind and you fell unconscious. A cold swirl of anger and disgust and sadness twists your stomach into a knot.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking way,” Rafe shouts. “Where’s your stash?”

“In the desk,” Porter says quietly. “Just take it. I’ll stick to selling weed, okay? You have my word.”

You watch from the floor, Rafe’s broad figure leaning to pull open drawers and shove items off the desk, objects clattering on the floor in the dark. They don’t know you’re here.

Consciousness slowly grips you. Rafe confronted him about selling coke. He told him to stop. And Porter didn’t listen.

Your eyes flood with hot tears. He didn’t listen to you, either.

You just want to leave. To get out of this horrifying room. To figure out how to put yourself back together after surviving one of the worst ways a person can break another.

Loud fireworks abruptly crack in the sky, startling you, shining light in through the window. And that’s when you see it. Porter is by the other side of the bed, still on the floor, and in his raised hand, something is gleaming.

A gun.

“Rafe!” Your throat is dry, sore from the way you’d screamed.

He suddenly turns towards you, confusedly finding your face across the room. Then, his gaze snaps down at Porter. He notices the gun. And he lunges.

You stand on shaky knees as you watch Rafe land vicious punches, every blow making Porter groan.

“Gonna pull a gun when my back is turned, pussy?” Rafe bellows. “Really?”

You round the bed, staring in horror, your mind still in fragmented shambles. You’d told Porter to stop so many times and every strike of Rafe’s knuckles against his jaw gives you a jolt of satisfaction, a desire for him to suffer more.

He was never a nice guy. He’s just like all of them. A predator.

Rafe scrambles to his feet, heavily breathing as fireworks continue their pops and sizzles over the beach.

The gun is in his hand now. His heart is thrumming, his blood boiling hot. He could’ve died. If you didn’t call his name, he could’ve lost his life.

Rafe’s steady and firm, holding the weapon still, a sharp contrast to how hard you’re shaking.

“Do it,” you say. Rafe’s eyes finds yours, his lips parted, blood splattered on his face. It’s not his. Porter didn’t land any punches. Rafe beat him that badly.

“What?” Porter cries. “Are you insane?”

He’s staring up at both of you through wide eyes as the barrel of the gun remains directed at him. You imagine how terrifying you must look to him, standing over him in the dim room with his pathetic life in your hands.

“Me?” you mutter. Hatred courses through your veins when you glare at him as he lies on his side, bloodied and weak.

The power has shifted into your hands. He was the one looking down at you earlier, hurting you. And now that your body is yours again, you don’t hesitate to kick him in the stomach.

He grunts when you make contact, his body curling forward.

Rafe watches, rendered speechless. He thought he’d seen you angry before. He hasn’t. This is new. This is pure rage. This is a level of wrath he didn’t know you were capable of.

Even through the darkness, Rafe can see that your eyes are shiny with tears when you turn your head to look at him again.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” you snap, your words dripping with agony and rage. “If you don’t do it, I will.”

Rafe is powerless against the angry, malevolent instinct that’s guided him all his life. He doesn’t think.

The blow of the gun cuts through the air.

Your breath catches.

And he’s just a body. Lifeless on the floor. Gone.

You look up at Rafe. Your chests are heaving, broken and shaky breaths spilling out of your mouths. The colors lighting up the night sky tint your tear-streaked face. He’s never seen agony personified. He has now.

You glance down at Porter again. His mouth is agape. His eyes are shut. Forever. Forever.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. Hot tears fall over your cheeks so quickly that you fear they’ll never stop. The adrenaline escapes you like water spinning down a drain, replaced with a bottomless dread.

Rafe realizes he’s still pointing the gun. He lowers his arm, his palm sweating against the grip. He had to do it. He had to. He didn’t know that taking a life would feel this good. He doesn’t feel a shred of regret or remorse. For once, he has real power.

But then he watches the way you sink down to the floor.

“What did we…” you whisper, words rushed. “What did we do? Rafe, what did we do?”

There’s a dead body next to you. Cold permeates your bones. You know it’s the type of chill that will never leave you.

Rafe kneels in front of you. The gun hits the floor with a heavy thump. The air smells like gunpowder, fried and smoking. He’s trying to meet your eyes, but your gaze is skittering around as you sit, crumpled and trembling.

“Hey,” he says clearly.

You’re staring at the ground, your breaths shallow.

“Hey,” he repeats louder. Finally, you look at him. “It was self-defense.”

You nod weakly, processing how within a second, you’ve tangled yourselves together into a knot that you can never unravel. Rafe pulled the trigger, but you told him to. And you’re sure you would’ve done it yourself if Rafe didn’t. You’re murderers.

Rafe’s hand is an inch away from you, almost putting it on yours, almost touching someone with tenderness instead of anger for once. You saved his life. You loathe him, but you saved his life, reacting in a split second.

“Why were you even up here?” he asks.

“Just be glad I was,” you say, hoping it’s enough to satisfy him.

“Yeah. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”

If you weren’t so shellshocked, you’d laugh. You never expected Rafe to have manners, and you never expected that if he did, it’d be a show of gratitude for helping him kill somebody.

Nausea pools in your gut at the reminder of why you were so angry. Did Porter plan it? Did he always have his sights set on you, like a vulture circling the sky, ready to attack?

What happened earlier tonight flashes through your mind. He deserved to die. He did something unforgivable. He said things about how girls always do this, they always tease but never give it up.

You didn’t just save Rafe. You saved all the girls who were fated to cross that monster’s path. You pushed a soul to its death, but it was one not worthy of life.

Rafe stares at you as you blink rapidly, your mind clearly racing.

“He rip you off or something?” he asks, at a loss for why you’d encourage him to pull the trigger.

Of course Rafe thinks it’s about money. That’s all that matters to him.

“Yeah,” you lie, voice cracking. You can’t tell him. You can’t relive it. Especially with someone who you know is cold-blooded. Someone who might blame you for coming up to this bedroom in the first place.

Tease. Porter called you a tease while you pleaded for him to stop. You drop your head in your hands, chest stuttering with your breathy cries, remembering how he’d hurt you.

Rafe stares at you, confused, wondering how you could be so angry and vengeful and ruthless, just to regret it a second after the bullet left the chamber.

“We had to do it,” he states.

“I know,” you tell him. You wipe your cheeks with your palms, well aware that he could never understand why you’re really crying. “We’ll just tell the truth.”

He shakes his head at you.

“Tell who the truth?” Rafe mutters, his stare hard. “We’re not telling anybody.”

Your breath shakes. He wants to hide this. To try to get away with it.

“What if someone heard the gunshot?” you murmur.

“Everyone’s outside,” he says. “And those stupid fireworks are so fucking loud. Nobody could tell the difference.”

You wipe your face again, considering his words. Your phone is buzzing in your pocket. Someone’s calling you. Surely one of your friends. Why didn’t you just tell them where you were going? Why didn’t you just have one of them come upstairs with you?

Impatience quickly rises in Rafe while you stay silent.

“I almost knocked him out the other night,” he says. “In front of everyone. You think backing me up would be enough for anyone to believe I was protecting myself?”

You chew on your bottom lip anxiously. Rafe has a reputation for being violent. Porter put up a front that he was a nice guy. His friends even said right in front of you that Rafe would kill him. Who’d believe that Porter actually pointed a gun first?

Besides, if you vouched for him, who’s to say they’d trust you? They could spin it and say Rafe paid off a Pogue to lie for him.

“And then the cops would dig and find out it was over coke,” Rafe sputters. “It’d be a fucking mess. We’re not telling anybody.”

He’s right. Confessing wouldn’t do you any good, either. It could go sideways and you could never afford a good lawyer.

Nobody deserves to be punished for taking down the evil, lifeless man lying on the floor. Not you. Not even Rafe. You won’t take the risk.

You gaze into Rafe’s eyes, finding comfort in the striking blue hue for the first time, feeling a newfound sense of loyalty to him.

He gave you vengeance in a world that would never punish the man who hurt you. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you whisper. “What do we do now?”

“We get rid of the body.”

next >

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[etanow]

MASTER POST

The Experimental Monster Laboratory, or Monster Labs, is a TADC AU where the cast is in the physical world! Sorta..

C&A Research Facilities is one of the cornerstones of the science and medical worlds! They do everything; funding research, manufacturing equipment, and research into the known and unknown in an effort to understand everything. To the public, that is.

They experiment heavily in everything, from hiring literal Gods on earth to manage the more ..sensitive divisions; mixing machine and magic, technology and the supernatural, genetic experimentation, you name it, they’ve probably done it! The world outside may not know anything of the advancements they’re researching but there is little C&A Labs won’t allow in the name of progress in understanding and cataloging everything in their universe. Our story takes place in one of the more private residencies deep in C&A, belonging to Caine; a minor God with mysterious origins, unknown limitations, and boundless enthusiasm for learning everything he can about his little science friends.

╰┈➤ Content

╚═ Unnamed fic (Coming soon...) ╚═ Bubble can cook?? .

╰┈➤ Asks

╚═ Does Pomni act like a zombie? ╚═ Is Zooble's Demon Snake Leg happy? ╚═ Gangle is in a Situation.png ╚═ Gangle's temperament ╚═ Has Ragatha ever shocked anyone? ╚═ Gangle love RAAAH ╚═ Do Caine and Ragatha fight over Pomni? ╚═ Why did Gangle summon a demon? ╚═ Why does Pomni wear a bell collar? ╚═ Kinger's eye ╚═ What if there was a baby crying? ╚═ Death trauma [Gangle and Pomni] ╚═ Kinger has ONE hobby outside of Bugs ╚═ Is Zooble protective of Gangle? ╚═ What happens when you touch Pomni's brain? ╚═ JAX DATED SOMEONE?? ╚═ What does Jax do? .

╰┈➤ References

╚═ Intro Cards ╚═ Height Chart Lineup ╚═ Zooble Demon Snake Leg Intro Card /j ╚═ Queenie ╚═ Gummigoo ╚═ The Sun Room ╚═ Logo .

╰┈➤ Arts

╚═ First ML AU Post ╚═ Second, exploring outfits ╚═ Design sketches part 2 ╚═ Pomni + flower language ╚═ Showtime + Ragapom doodles ╚═ Jax not practicing lab safety ╚═ Abstragedy cuddles ╚═ Raga doodle ╚═ Ragapom doodle ╚═ Jax and Meadowsweet ╚═ Pomni staring out a fake window.png ╚═ [Gives pomni flowers] ╚═ more doodles ig

.

╰┈➤ Misc.

╚═ Caine Lemon Rant [Animatic] ╚═ Zodiac signs?? ╚═ Caine gets called a Tumblr Sexyman and cries ╚═ Bubble Looksmaxxing ╚═ Jax wants to take ketamine with you (Romantically) ╚═ Caine eats a lemon [Animatic] ╚═ BUNNYSUITSSS ╚═ Magma doodles ╚═ Magma doodles part 2

.

╰┈➤ Pomniverse

╚═ Wonderland and Zombni are friends :D

.

╰┈➤ Boundaries / Q&A

╚═ Any story plans? I'm not sure yet, currently writing a fic and several comics on the way.

╚═ Any boundaries? None, so go crazy! I am OK with gore, NSFW, angst, violence, etc, just be sure it is tagged/TW'd appropriately as not everyone is OK with that content. I'd also like to see please LOL

╚═ Can we create fanart/fics/content? Can we dub or fancam? Yes of course!! Please tag me, I'd love to see all of it! I'm tracking the tag #TADC Monster Labs AU for other's content

╚═ Is NSFW allowed? Yes, both art and fic, so long as it's marked appropriately I'd very much love to see!

╚═ Can I ship the characters, self-ships, or OC x Canon? Yes, ship away! Just be aware the only au-canon ships are Caine/Pomni, Ragatha/Pomni, Gangle/Zooble, and PAST Ragatha/Jax.

╚═ Can we make OCs? Go on ahead! Here is a PSD file for the blank template and the PNG can be found here.

╚═ Who are you?

✦✧ Hi I'm Audi! 26, she/they. Full-time office worker, I do art in my free time. ✦ My current interests are TADC, RWBY, Looney Tunes, and Trolls. ✧ I draw using a custom PC, a Huion Kamvas 16 (2.5K), and Adobe Photoshop. Currently learning to use Procreate. ✦ I do not RP and this isn't an ask blog, asks interacting directly with characters will probably not be answered. ✧ Asks are not guaranteed to be answered, sorry if yours isn't but please don't spam/send multiple times! ✦ Commissions and requests are not open at this time, thank you. ✧ My main tumblr is Audi-art. My Twitter is Hammerspaced.

[mononijikayu]

cure — ryomen sukuna.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous." “You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.” "Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - alien stage au;

WARNING/S: dead dove do not eat, nsfw (not safe for work), alien invasion, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, dehumanization, hurt/comfort, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, trauma, pining, complicated relationship, emotional distress, grief, canon related violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, social isolation, depiction of character death, depiction of dehumanization, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of emotional and physical abuse, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of dehumanization;

WORD COUNT: 16k words

NOTE: this was supposed to be posted much earlier but my glasses broke and i have to wear contact lenses, but its rough. my eyes hurt but i wanted to put this out there for yall. i need to get new frames for my glasses, so let's hope i can do that later or tomorrow!!! i adore alien stage and i was really stuck on stage 6, which is ivantill going at it. and so i wanted to write about it in a fic, but with sukuna. this is not an easy thing for people to read as alien stage explores a lot of dynamics, including dehumanization, trauma, violence and other things. so please be careful, i tagged what it containsfor a reason!!! in any case, i think you'll be able to read nanami's much easier. i hope you continue to look forward to it!!! anyway, i'll see you then. i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 2000;

if you want to, tip! <3

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU’VE ALWAYS WONDERED ABOUT STARS. Everything about them is a curiosity to you, a mystery waiting to be unraveled. The stars, once distant and unknowable, had always felt like something you could only admire from afar—faint whispers of a universe too vast to comprehend, scattered far beyond the grasp of your outstretched hand.

But then the aliens arrived, and the stars transformed. They were no longer untouchable pinpricks in the night sky; they became tangible, living, breathing beings.

And one of them, Starlight, became more than a friend, more than a visitor from the cosmos. They became yours. Not in the way one claims possession of something, but in the way their very presence seemed to stitch itself into the fabric of your existence.

Starlight was radiant, their shimmering, soft luminescence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Their light didn’t burn; it soothed, warm and alive. They spoke not with words, but with a gentle hum that resonated deep in your chest, as though they were singing to the very rhythm of your heart. When they were near, the world felt softer, brighter. They were your everything, your universe, encapsulating all of your childish self. 

Their curiosity mirrored your own, eyes (or something like them) wide as they marveled at the simplest human things: the way you brewed tea, the way the rain danced against your window, the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. And in return, you marveled at them. They were a marvel, a being from the stars. And yet somehow so achingly familiar to you.

Every moment you both shared felt like secrets whispered between galaxies.It was endless excitement, especially for you who was still growing into yourself.

They would lift a glowing hand to the sky, and the stars would twinkle in reply, as if winking just for you. And when the weight of life pressed too heavily on your shoulders, when you missed home — you were reminded that you were already home. Because you were with Starlight.

Starlight was unlike anyone you’d ever known. Their presence was a tapestry of light and sound, shifting and shimmering in ways that no human words could fully capture. They were, without a doubt, the kindest of all the aliens you’d encountered—something you hadn’t thought possible in your tumultuous travels across the stars.

They never looked down on you, never acted superior. They never raised their voice or lashed out, never gave you cause to cry or to feel small. No, Starlight was different. They listened, truly listened, and their responses carried a patience and understanding that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

And they had this way of making you smile, even when you thought the weight of the universe would crush you. It was as though their very essence carried an unspoken promise: You are not alone.

You weren’t sure when it started, but somehow, you began to notice that you made them smile too. Well, if "smile" was the right word for the way their luminous form would pulse and shimmer with vibrant, joyful hues. It wasn’t until the day you sang that you truly understood how much you’d touched them.

You had been sitting by the viewing port, staring out at the swirling nebulae, the colors dancing in the void. The melody had come to you unbidden, a quiet hum at first, then blooming into words you hadn’t sung since you were a child. Your voice filled the chamber, mingling with the hum of the ship's systems. It wasn’t a grand performance, just something small and raw. But it was enough.

When you turned, Starlight was there. They were looking at you, their form trembling with flickering pulses of color you’d never seen before. It was awe-striking to see for the first time, who they truly are.

Those vibrant deep ambers and rich violets that seemed to ripple like a heartbeat. Their light dimmed for a moment as though catching its breath. Then, their glow intensified, and you realized they were weeping.

Tears? Could they cry? You’d never thought to ask before.

“Starlight?” you asked hesitantly, standing. “Did I... do something wrong?”

They stepped—or rather, floated—closer, their luminescence washing over you in a gentle cascade. They shook their heads at you, almost too reassuringly. Their hand rested against your head and traced the strings of your hair with soothing echoes. 

“Wrong?” Their voices vibrated like chimes caught in a soft breeze. “No, little one. What you’ve done is beyond beautiful.”

You tilted your head, still unsure. “But... you’re crying?”

They seemed to shimmer with quiet laughter at your confusion. “Your voice.” they said, “it carries something special. It reminds me of home, of frequencies long since lost to my kind.”

“Lost?” you echoed, sitting back down. “How can sound be lost?”

“It’s not just sound, little one.” Starlight explained, their glow shifting into softer, warmer tones. “It’s emotion, memory. My people... we’ve forgotten how to feel them as you do. Your song brought them back, if only for a moment.”

You felt your cheeks flush red, unsure how to respond to such an overwhelming compliment. “I-I see. But I….I still did not want to….I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Their light brightened again, wrapping you in warmth. “Tears are not always sorrow, my dear little one. Sometimes they are the purest form of joy.”

For a while, you both sat in silence, the vastness of space your only witness. Then, tentatively, you asked, “Would you like to hear another song?”

Starlight’s form pulsed with an eager glow ethereally happy. “I would be honored.”

Over time, you grew fonder of that voice of yours. That voice of yours that harmonizes to what the other aliens called singing. What once felt like a mere habit became a passion, nurtured by the joy Starlight showed in your songs. Starlight delighted you in every way they could, bringing melodies from across the cosmos to inspire you. 

They filled your world with sounds and instruments. At times, they would bring you little boxes they often called on Earth as music boxes. You had to crank it up over and over to hear those little sounds hum its tune.

You don’t remember much about Earth at all, but those melodies were haunting refrains from distant moons, rhythmic pulses from pulsar dances. They were beautiful. At times you wondered, is this what Earth people like?

You were thankful for everything Starlight would do for you. In return, you wanted to delight them too. So, you tried your best all the time, to sing. You sang for Starlight’s guests—beings of every shape, size, and light. And with time, they too grew fond of your voice. 

Their praises were frequent, full of admiration. Their luminescent forms often shifted with excitement as they spoke about you after your performances. That’s when the whispers began from each and everyone of them when they came around. They tried to be quiet, but they were always loud enough to be heard. Not only by you, but ever so clearly, your Starlight.

“Bring your pet to the Alien Stage.” they’d say to Starlight, their voices rippling like waves. “Surely, they’d win the crowd over.”

The first time someone said it, you noticed the subtle change in Starlight’s glow—a flicker, almost imperceptible. Their eyes, usually brimming with warmth, grew wide with tension. They would shake their head in a proud, head-strong manner. 

“No.” they said simply, their tone firm, though the words hummed low, almost mournful. “I will not.”

But none of them were deterred by each refusal. If anything, that only made the urge stronger, with each and every time you sang in their presence. Each time the suggestion came up, however, Starlight’s refusal was the same, unwavering. Each time, it was a hard pressing refusal. Over and over again, it was — “No.”

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You didn’t even know what Alien Stage was. But as the guests chatted, your curiosity grew. You overheard them talking with excitement about the performances, the music, the awe-inspiring singers from every corner of the universe.

They’d list the names of their favorites, their voices buzzing with admiration. Some even mentioned their own “pets” performing there, beings like you, brought to the stage to dazzle the multitudes.

Your eyes widened at every detail. The way they spoke of it made the stage sound like a dream. This seemed like a place where voices transcended worlds, where songs could echo through the cosmos itself. 

You started to imagine yourself there, standing before an audience of countless beings, your voice reaching further than you ever thought possible. Maybe Starlight would be proud of you. Maybe they’d adore you even more if you proved your worth on that stage.

One day, your resolve solidified. You approached Starlight, your heart pounding with nervous excitement. “I want to sing for others. Not just for you, but for everyone. I want to sing on that stage. And make them as happy as I had made you!”

The moment the words left your lips, Starlight’s glow dimmed, their light trembling like a flickering flame caught in a draft. It was the first time you’d ever seen them falter. “You don’t understand what you’re asking, little one.” they murmured, their usually harmonious voice tinged with unease.

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer. “I want to share my voice with everyone too, Starlight. Isn’t that what music is for?”

Their glow wavered, their colors shifting to muted tones. “The Alien Stage... it’s not kind. It’s not about music, not truly. It's a spectacle. You are not a spectacle. You’re not a commodity, certainly not my pet, no matter how they insist so. I won’t let them turn you into something you are not.”

You blinked, taken aback. “But... the others, your friends—they said their pets perform there. They’re fine, aren’t they?”

Starlight’s light flared briefly, a rare burst of frustration. “Fine? Is that what they told you? Do you know what happens when the universe gets bored of a song? When will the novelty fades?” They quieted, their voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re my melody. My little one. I won’t let you be taken from me.”

Their words stung, but you couldn’t let go of the yearning in your heart. “My songs aren’t meant to stay here, Starlight. They’re like you—meant to travel, to touch others, to spark something in their hearts. Don’t you see? This is what I want.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you, heavy and unyielding. Then, finally, Starlight dimmed further, their light softening into a pale, reluctant glow. They looked distraught, nervous. They seemed to look close to tears.

“If this is truly what you desire, little one.” they said, their voice trembling. “Then I will take you somewhere to help you. But promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll remember that you’re more than a song. You’re more than what they might try to make of you.”

“I promise.” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

Starlight didn’t respond right away. Instead, they reached out, their light brushing against you in a gesture that felt both protective and sorrowful. You looked up to them, blinking in confusion. At this moment, you still never truly knew what these complex gazes meant. You were still a child, after all. 

“Then I will help prepare you for the stage.” they said at last. “But know this: the universe can be a cruel audience.”

You nodded at them. They can only pierce their lips in a tight line. “I’ll send you somewhere safe, where you can learn." they said, their glow dim but steady. "Anakt Garden. They’ll teach you, nurture you. But promise me this: don’t let them take your essence away."

Anakt Garden was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. It was an orbital sanctuary, a massive structure built to mimic nature but filled with the impossible beauty of alien design. The fields glowed faintly, shifting in color as the air pulsed with an almost musical hum. Trees stretched high, their leaves shimmering like glass, and the ground beneath your feet felt soft, warm, alive.

Other children were there. And you realized that they were humans like you. The pets they were talking about like you. You hadn’t expected that all humans were pets. You had only known what Starlight told you about the universe.

Still each human child in their own right was unique in their presence. Some carried the same nervous energy you felt; others radiated confidence. It was comforting, in a way, to see so many dreamers gathered in one place. All of them yearn to sing, as much as you do. That had made you smile for the first time, the first time since parting from Starlight.

And then there was Ryomen Sukuna.

The first time you saw him, he was sitting under one of the bizarre trees, his pink hair like a fuschia flame against the soft glow of the Garden. He seemed at least a bit older than you. But you found him to be a fair face. 

He had a presence that demanded attention, his sharp scarlet eyes daring anyone to look away. Where the other children were careful and obedient, Ryomen Sukuna was bold, loud, and entirely unapologetic. And with the way everyone spoke about him, he seemed to be a lone wolf. A persona non grata in a group of these jolly children.

Yet, when you first heard him sing, you were awestruck. You stood there, listening as though he was growing something in you. Like a flower that has been waiting to bloom. Everything in the air shifted when he sang like he was crying out for something to be heard.

Of course, His voice wasn’t polished or restrained; it was raw, powerful, and full of an unyielding intensity. It shook something loose inside you, something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back. You couldn’t help but gulp, you wanted to be just like him too. You wanted to be as good as him, blessed with such a wonder of a voice too.

Sukuna being good at singing had lit a fire in you, one you hadn’t fully realized was there until now. Watching him perform was like witnessing a storm in motion. It was wild, untamed, and utterly captivating. Everything about him would make anyone feel like the world should revolve around him. And you wanted that too. 

You wanted to capture that vibrance too. You wanted to be good. You wanted to make Starlight proud. You wanted to sing. Sing like you were the best in the world. It made you want to push yourself further, to become better, to chase the same freedom he seemed to command so effortlessly.

You started practicing harder than ever, retreating to one of the isolation cells to hone your voice. Day in and day out, you sang, the emptiness of the chamber amplifying your every note. Sometimes you sang until your throat was raw, until your limbs ache from exhaustion. You forgot to eat more often than you cared to admit, too focused on perfecting your craft.

And yet, despite all your effort, you knew you were holding back. It wasn’t hard to tell that you were. And that frustrated you to no end. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach those soaring heights or push into the raw, emotional depths you heard in Sukuna’s voice. It was that you didn’t let yourself.

Of course, Ryomen Sukuna was quick to notice. 

With those sharp eyes of his, he always noticed.

“You’re good.” he said to you one day, his tone deceptively casual. 

He leaned against the doorway to the cell, arms crossed, his sharp scarlet gaze cutting through you like a blade.You couldn’t help but glance up from where you sat on the cold sterile floor, startled. You hadn’t heard him come in. 

“Thank you.” you muttered, unsure how to take the compliment.

“But you’re holding back.” he added, his voice laced with amusement as he stepped closer. His smirk was as infuriating as it was challenging. “Why?”

You hesitated, your heart sinking under the weight of Starlight’s words—the warnings, the fear in their trembling light. You wanted to sing, you wanted to be the best. But you had to be true to what your Starlight said. You had to.

“I don’t want to disappoint my guardian.” you admitted quietly. “They’re afraid I’ll lose myself if I go too far.”

Sukuna tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was halfway to solving. Then he snorted, his grin widening into something both cocky and strangely reassuring. It was almost irritating. And yet, he had the right to be smug. He had it all figured out. All too well. 

“Lose yourself? You? Nah.” He crouched down to your level, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “If anything, you’re too afraid to find yourself.”

The words hit harder than you expected, leaving you speechless. Ryomen Sukuna laughs for a moment before he leaned in closer, his laughter dying down. It was soon replaced by a sly smirk softening into something that almost felt like encouragement.

“You’ve got fire in you, you know that?” he said, his voice low but insistent. “I can hear it in your voice, even when you try to hide it. You’re scared of what happens if you let it out, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t wrong. Some of the people here are favorites of many aliens who had come to Starlight’s home as guests. And Sukuna was one of them. And some of them whispered here about what the contest was like. Even more, you were without Starlight. They won’t be coming back until the next visiting day. 

He was right, he seems to always be right. You were afraid, sometimes feeling that fear of the unknown. That lack of security. That echo of loneliness. Of course you were scared.. You were but a child. And you don’t know much about this world. 

“It’s not about them.” he continued, his tone firm now. “Not your guardian, not the stage, not anyone else. It’s about you. You wanted to join because you wanted to sing, right? Then do it for yourself.”

Your brows furrowed. “But I—”

“No ifs, no buts. You’ve got something special, something that deserves to be heard. And if you keep locking it away, you’re not just letting them down—you’re letting yourself down.”

His words lingered in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once.You swallowed hard, feeling a spark of something new—courage, maybe, or defiance. Is it all that, you wonder? Or is just a phantom of a feeling. You didn’t know, truly. But his words made you feel like a fire was burning inside of you. And even if you didn’t know what it was…..at least it was there, long enough to keep you from sorrows.

“And what if I let it out and it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, rare and disarming. “Then you keep going. You mess up, you fall, you sing again. That’s how you find your edge. That’s how you find you.”

He straightened up, his presence still larger than life even as he turned to leave. “Next time I hear you, lamb.” Sukuna called over his shoulder, causing you to blink as he called you a new name. “Don’t hold back. Let the fire burn.”

You sat there in the quiet for a long time after he left, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe Ryomen Sukuna was right. Maybe it was time to stop holding yourself back. Maybe it’s time to let that fire you feel be more than just a feeling. You took a deep breath, and looked at your music sheets again. It was time to practice once more.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU FIND THAT YOU DWELL IN THE SAME AXIS AS SUKUNA. Somehow, you and Sukuna understood each other better than most in the Garden. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about outright. Well, there was no place for that here, after all.

So, there were no flowery declarations of kinship or shared confessions under the stars. But it was there, an unspoken connection that threaded between your interactions, subtle yet undeniable.

At first glance, it didn’t make much sense at all. You couldn’t be more different. Sukuna, with his razor-sharp confidence and unapologetic boldness, seemed to command the space around him, every action deliberate and brimming with power. You, on the other hand, felt smaller, quieter, more uncertain of your place among the dazzling figures who roamed the Garden.

And yet, despite your differences or maybe because of them, you felt natural around each other. Conversations flowed without effort, even in their silences. He could sit beside you, offering no more than a teasing smirk or a dry comment, and you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with needless words. Somehow, it was enough just to share the same space, like two stars orbiting the same unseen gravity.

Perhaps it was the way you each carried something hidden beneath the surface, something you rarely shared with others. Sukuna, for all his bluster, carried a weight in his eyes, a history that lingered in the way he sometimes stared into the distance, his smirk slipping into something more thoughtful. You had your own burdens, your own doubts, ones you tried to shield behind polite smiles and quiet resolve.

It wasn’t that you talked about those things. At least not directly. But there were moments, fleeting and unguarded, where the weight of what you both carried seemed to align. In those moments, you’d catch him watching you, his gaze softer than usual, as though he saw through the walls you’d built. And you knew, somehow, that you could see through him too.

Even when your worlds didn’t overlap most of the time. When his passions and his sharp-edged confidence clashed with your quieter, more careful nature, there was still some well founded common ground in the simplicity of understanding. There was no judgment between you, no need to prove yourselves to one another.

Sukuna didn’t try to push you into his shadow, and you didn’t shrink from the light he cast. And perhaps, that’s what you liked the most about him. He didn’t change anything with how he treated you or how he interacted with you. He was just himself. And you were just who you were. 

For all the chaos and politics surrounding the Garden, where alliances shifted like the wind and friendships often felt transactional, what you had with Ryomen Sukuna was refreshingly uncomplicated. It wasn’t about competition or gaining favor. It was just... real.

And maybe that’s why, despite having little in common, you felt natural with him. You didn’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Somehow, you just knew.That was for the better, if you were truly saying it bluntly. 

The shimmering beauty of Anakt Garden couldn’t hide its truth: it was a terrifyingly stifling place. Every moment was monitored, every move scrutinized by the alien caretakers. Their intentions were kind, but their constant observation weighed heavy, leaving you feeling like a butterfly pinned under glass.

Ryomen Sukuna hated it. He wouldn’t even be here if his guardian wasn’t insistent on making use of him like a pet who made him a lot of money— of course, just as much to isolate him from the scandals and troubles he creates as a performer. 

You heard rumors about all of that, but you weren’t sure if they were true. You don’t want to cross a boundary with Sukuna, something he was unwilling to talk about as much as something he never truly decides to talk to you about. 

But it was obvious in all the other ways, you suppose. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened whenever the caretakers hovered too long, their cold, clinical voices reminding you to stay on schedule, to follow their precise instructions. He never said anything outright in their presence, but the tension in his body was impossible to miss. His hands would curl into loose fists, his eyes narrowing like he was fighting the urge to lash out. 

It wasn’t just their commands that grated on him—it was their entire approach. The way they treated you, and everyone else in the Garden, as projects, toys to play with rather than souls who deserve respect. 

To this part of the galaxy, human children were their tools to be honed, performances to be perfected. You didn’t need to ask how he felt about it; his disdain was evident in every clipped word and icy glare he threw their way and how much he does not care for their discipline and in the worst cases, punishment.

You worry about him, about his defiances. But you know he’s been through this before, and he was a veteran. Ryomen Sukuna has lived through the experience. You could see it in his eyes, how much he hated the Garden. And just as much, how much he hated how this is affecting you. He hated seeing you go through this too.

One evening, after a particularly grating session where the caretakers had spent far too long critiquing your pitch and posture, you found Sukuna waiting for you under one of the glowing trees in the Garden. The soft luminescence of the tree’s branches cast him in an almost ethereal light, though the storm cloud brewing in his expression was anything but serene.

He didn’t say anything at first as you approached slowly, just patted the ground beside him in an unspoken invitation. You sat, letting out a long sigh, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders.

“They don’t get it.” Sukuna muttered finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, angry, but there was an edge of frustration that wasn’t entirely aimed at the caretakers. “They think they can mold us into their stupid little visions.”

You glanced at him, his face partially obscured by the shadows of the tree’s light. “Maybe that’s just how they think things work.” you said softly, even though you didn’t fully believe your own words. “They’re just trying to help us... be better.”

Sukuna snorted, his lip curling into a derisive smirk. “Help? Is that what you call it, little lamb? Barking orders, telling you to strip everything raw until there’s nothing left but their idea of ‘perfect’? Yeah, really helpful.”

You didn’t reply right away. There was truth in what he said, he knew it more than you. That was the truth of that. But the caretakers had a way of making you feel like you couldn’t question them, like they knew what was best. 

And even then, you were the one who wanted to be here in the first place. You had asked Starlight to let you be on that stage, happily so. You wanted to sing for the universe. For all the galaxies to see and hear. You chose your poison, your suffering. You had to make your bed and deal with it too.

Sukuna turned to you then, his sharp gaze piercing through your silence. “You’re already perfect, okay? Don’t listen to them, little lamb.” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “They just can’t see it.”

The words caught you off guard, scarlet warmth rising to your cheeks despite the weight in your chest. “I’m not... I mean, I’m trying to be better.” you stammered, looking away. “I want to be good enough.”

He leaned closer, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good enough for who? Them? You think their approval is worth breaking yourself over?”

You hesitated, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened again, but this time his anger felt different. You were good at reading his emotions by now. You had seen his eyes too much to not know what they felt. And when it comes to you, they shine with a protective glow almost all the time. 

“Listen to me, little lamb.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not some tool for them to shape, alright? You’ve got something real, something no one else has. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

You met his gaze, unsure of how to respond. There was something raw in his expression, something that felt startlingly vulnerable. For all his bravado, Sukuna wasn’t just angry for the sake of it, he never was. You knew him too well for you not to know that. He genuinely cared.

“Thank you, ‘kuna.” you said quietly, the word feeling small but sincere.

He leaned back against the tree, his smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “Don’t thank me yet. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let them dim your light. You’re better than their rules, their schedules. You’re better than all of it.”

His words settled over you like a protective shield, bolstering you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. And as the glow of the tree cast shifting patterns across the ground, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. You want to start thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t need their version of perfection. Maybe you could find your own.

With each passing day, his company as much as his protectiveness became your anchor in the Garden’s isolating world. When the pressure of always being watched felt too heavy, Ryomen Sukuna was there to remind you that you weren’t alone. He had a way of drawing you out of your own thoughts, pulling you into his world where the rules didn’t seem to matter.

He started making you little gifts, sometimes when it was the get together activities. He was crude about it but you found that he does endearing work for delicate, endearing things by his own hand for you. He was good at it, with how he cobbled together from whatever he could find around the Garden.

Today, it was a bracelet made of woven grasses that glowed faintly in the dark. A carved fragment of one of the brazenly bright trees, etched with symbols and letters that only he could explain. You gasped as he showed it to you once he was finally done. 

"It’s a good luck charm, little lamb. It’s all written in a human language, from long ago. " he said to you tenderly, pressing a small, smooth stone into your hand. It was warm, as if it had been sitting in sunlight. "To keep you safe. You need it here."

But sometimes, it wasn’t just those he gave to you. Sukuna would sometimes write you songs, too. He was more advanced with that than you in his classes. It’s why he sometimes gets bored attending the classes. Sometimes he also teaches you, when there are things that confuse you about the lessons or if they are going too fast.

Sometimes it was hard to read through it all. His thoughts go by so fast that he ends up writing without thinking about it. You giggle sometimes when he hands you page after page to go through them. They were always good songs, of course they were. But his writing was always something that was ever so special about it all. 

But his handwriting was messy, scrawled on scraps of paper or even on his own arm when he ran out of space. He would get flustered about it sometimes, too. But you never chastised him for that. If anything, it was because he was born a genius of music. 

He was born to create melodies that could move anyone in this life—human or alien. His music wasn’t just sound; it was an experience, a force of nature. It’s why he was a favorite of so many who tuned into Alien Stage. 

His songs weren’t polished or rehearsed to the point of sterility. No, they were raw, defiant, and unapologetically alive. Every note, every lyric burned with fire, passion, and a kind of honesty that left no room for pretense.

And yet, for all their intensity, nothing could compare to the moments when he sang just for you. In those moments, the wild edges of his music softened. The defiance was still there, but it felt different. Everything about it was more tender, like an ember rather than a roaring flame. 

When he played his guitar, the ink on the page didn’t seem as smudged, the chords didn’t feel as jagged. It was as though the very essence of the music shifted, reshaping itself into something gentler, something just for you.

When he sang for you, it wasn’t about proving anything or conquering the stage. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was personal. It was for his little lamb. And his little lamb, who was the softest voice that tendered anyone’s soul, he was sure to want to do the same. He wanted to make your soul a little less heavier in this stifling place.

“You bring out the quiet in me, little lamb.” he admitted one night, his voice low and almost shy, a stark contrast to his usual boldness. 

The two of you sat together under the alien sky, its vibrant hues dancing like living brushstrokes across the horizon. His guitar rested idly on his lap, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the strings.You tilted your head, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his tone. 

“You? Quiet? I don’t believe it, ‘kuna.” you teased, grinning as you nudged his shoulder.

He smirked, though there was an unmistakable softness in his expression. “Don’t get used to it, little lamb.” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into something halfway between a grin and a pout. “I’ve got a reputation to keep for all the galaxy, you know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, I’ll treasure it while it lasts, then. The great Sukuna, soft-spoken and sweet. Who would’ve thought?”

“Careful, now.” he warned, though there was no bite in his words. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to write a song about how annoying you are.”

You gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over your chest. “Annoying? Me? I’m the one inspiring all this ‘quiet’. I’d like to correct you on that, thank you very much.”

“Fair point, little lamb.” he conceded, chuckling as he leaned back on his hands. He glanced at you then, his crimson eyes catching the light of the sky, and for a moment, he looked at peace. 

“I always make good points.” You giggled back at him.

“But don’t go thinking this is all for you.” he added, his voice playful but his gaze lingering on yours. “It’s just... easier when you’re around. The chaos doesn’t feel so loud.”

Your laughter softened, fading into a gentle smile. “Maybe it’s because you don’t have to be anything but yourself when you’re with me.”

He stilled, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he let out a quiet hum. “Yeah, I suppose.” he said finally, almost to himself. “Maybe that’s it.”

And as the vast expanse of the foreign sky shimmered above you, you couldn’t help but think that whatever quiet he found in your presence, it was mutual. Something about him, about these stolen moments, made the rest of the universe feel distant and unimportant. It was just you, him, and the melody he always seemed to carry.

For just a moment, the Garden didn’t feel so heavy tonight.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU WERE SURPRISED AT YOUR PROGRESS. Just as much, everyone else was too. The caretakers and the teachers began to notice the shift in you. It was impossible for them not to. Your voice had grown stronger, more confident, and your performances carried a depth they hadn’t seen before from you.

They praised you for your progress, their clinical smiles and approving nods a stark contrast to their usual detached demeanor. But their accolades rang hollow. They had no idea that their rigid schedules and suffocating structure weren’t the reason for your growth. It wasn’t their drills or corrections that had helped you blossom. All that work was done by Ryomen Sukuna.

When you felt like the weight of their expectations was too much to bear, Sukuna was the one who reminded you of the fire burning within you. When doubt crept into your mind, whispering that you’d never be good enough, it was Sukuna who sat with you under the glowing trees and told you to keep going.

“They can watch us all they want, little lamb.” Sukuna said to you, with a furrowed brow. 

But then he yawned, his head resting against the false bark. His fuschia hair caught the golden light filtering through the Garden’s strange sky. He was exhausted from the evaluations today, he was up longer than some of the other kids. So after all that, all he wanted to do was sleep.

He leaned against a twisted, luminous tree, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by something fiercer, more protective. He wasn’t there for your evaluations, but with how the results came out — he had a right to reassure you. 

You had barely made the top ten of the class. And that terrified you. Being top ten meant that you wouldn’t suffer more remedial classes. You were already exhausted from practicing all month for the evaluations. You didn’t need a repeat of it again.

Sukuna did not believe in the ranking for the evaluations. If anything he hated it. He may have been at the first place mark now, but this doesn’t mean that it meant anything. It wasn’t any of the teachers who will give you points at the live shows. It would be the audience. What the audience wants is often not what the teachers like.

“They’ll never understand what you’re capable of.” He tells you brazenly. “And I’ll make sure they don’t break you. Don’t worry about that.”

You looked up at him, his words stirring something deep inside you. “You really think I can do it?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

His gaze softened, the fire in his crimson eyes still blazing but tempered with something gentler. “I don’t think so. I know.” he said firmly, stepping closer to you.

“I just….” You purse your lips into a small line, lowering your gaze.

“You’ve got more heart in your little finger than any of those caretakers have in their whole soulless existence. They’re just trying to shape you into what they think you should be. But you? You’re already enough. More than enough.”

You felt a lump in your throat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “It’s hard sometimes.” you admitted, your voice wavering. “To keep believing in myself when they’re always... pushing. Always watching.”

Sukuna crouched down in front of you, his expression unusually serious. “Then stop doing it for them, little lamb.” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “Do it for you. Never for them. They’ll never understand joy the way you do about singing. They’re just a bunch of pricks who want to make money. You’re amazing, okay? You got that? ”

His words struck a chord in you, and you nodded, a small smile breaking through your doubt. “Yeah.” you whispered.

“Good.” he said, straightening up and offering you a hand. “Because when we’re out of here, the whole universe is gonna know your name. And I’ll be right there with you, making sure they hear you loud and clear.”

The idea of a life beyond the Garden. That was something you’d barely dared to dream of, but now it seemed suddenly felt tangible. With Sukuna by your side, with Starlight on the other side of you.

Somehow, with him, the Garden’s walls didn’t seem so high or so suffocating. You started to dream again. You wanted to dream again. Not just of performing for others but of living, truly living, free from the caretakers’ rules and expectations.

“You really think we’ll get out of here?” you asked one evening, as you both sat under the alien sky. “And be together?”

Sukuna leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the shimmering lights above. “Of course we will,” he said confidently. “They can’t keep us here forever. And when we’re out, I’ll show you what real freedom looks like. No rules, no schedules, little lamb. It’ll be just us and the stars.”

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a mix of hope and longing. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It’s not a dream, little lamb.” he said, turning to look at you. “It’s a promise.”

And though the path ahead was uncertain, with obstacles and risks you couldn’t yet see, you knew one thing for sure: as long as Sukuna was with you, as long as his voice called you forward and his presence anchored you, you could face whatever came next. 

And so, life in Anakt Garden continued, the days blending together in a cycle of practice, observation, and fleeting moments of stolen freedom with Sukuna. The caretakers pushed you even harder, their teachings were continually becoming a relentless scrutiny that was even more suffocating than before.

They wanted perfection, polished and pristine, a voice that could embody the harmony they imagined humanity should be. After all, they wanted a good show. Perfection was the only way to make that good show happen. But you weren’t perfect by their standards. Neither was Sukuna, and you didn’t want to be — not anymore.

You just wanted to sing together with Sukuna forever.

"You ever notice how quiet it gets here at night?" Sukuna said one evening, lying beside you under the alien trees. The Garden's soft glow reflected in his sharp eyes, making them look like twin stars. "It’s too perfect. Like they’ve sucked all the realness out of this place."

You nodded, your chest heavy with the truth of his words. The Garden’s beauty often felt like a trap, a cage made of light and silence. Artificial as it may be, it at least provided some solace to you when the times were rough. 

"They think if it’s quiet enough, we’ll forget what it feels like to be loud." he continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "But you and me? We shouldn’t be so willing to be quiet, you know?"

Those words stayed with you. And from that moment on, you started to see more of why Ryomen Sukuna was what he was to the caretakers and the teachers. He wanted to live. He wanted to be free. And the only way to be free was defiance. And you slowly but surely, you also became one with him in that too.

He began sneaking out of his quarters late at night to find you. Together, you’d climb the shimmering trees or sit on the glowing grass, whispering plans for the future. He talked about stages that stretched across galaxies, places where no one would tell you how to sing, where your voices could echo freely into the stars.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous."

“You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.”

"Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

“Only me?” Your eyes brightened at his words.

He smiled back at you once more. “Only you.”

But as much as Sukuna comforted you, you could see the way the Garden wore on him, too. The more you get to know him, the more he tells you about his experiences here. They were of course not going into all the details. He doesn’t want to regale you with sorrow.

Yet all that he says were consistent with his previous experiences. And each and every time he came back, he just hated it even more. The constant surveillance, the endless demands, the lack of freedom. It was like watching a wildfire struggle to burn in a room with no air. And no one was getting out without getting burned.

"They’re never going to let us leave, are they?" you asked him another night, the weight of the question pressing down on you like a stone.

Sukuna turned to you, his gaze fierce. "Not on our terms if they have their way, no. But that doesn’t mean we won’t get out."

"What do you mean?" You furrowed your brows quizzically at him. “Sukuna, what do you mean by that?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a thrill down your spine because it meant he had a plan. "I’m working on something. Just... trust me, yeah?"

And you did. You always trusted him.

How could you not trust him?

He was all you had in this wretched place.

In the meantime, Sukuna never let the Garden take your spirit. When you were too tired to sing, he’d hum quietly for you, his voice a low, comforting rumble. When you felt trapped, he’d find a way to make you laugh. 

Sometimes there was a sly joke here and there. Sometimes a sarcastic comment, or even an impromptu, over-the-top performance that earned him a scolding from the caretakers. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was that you smiled.

"You keep me sane, you know that?" you told him one night, the two of you leaning against each other beneath the alien sky.

"Good." he replied, his voice soft but steady. "Because you keep me grounded too."

You liked to think that when he smiled then, you realized you loved him.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU HAD IMAGINED IT TO BE. You had not wanted this to happen, not ever. But it has. You willingly walked into this stage. But you didn't know any better. You didn't know.

Alien Stage was supposed to be your moment, the culmination of all the practice, dreams, and songs you had poured your soul into. And yet, this was not the truth. It never was.

As you stood in the staging area, waiting for your name to be called, your chest felt tight. No, you don’t think it was the nerves. No, it had to be something darker. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

You could see it in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes too. That pool of dread. That horror. He didn’t say anything outright, but his normally fiery demeanor had simmered into something quieter, sharper. As you waited, he stayed close, his presence grounding you in the chaos of the moment.

When your name echoed through the chamber, the sound bouncing off the crystalline walls like a bell tolling for the inevitable, Sukuna reached out without hesitation. His hand found your arm, his grip firm, almost desperate, as though letting go would send you spiraling into the unknown forever.

"Hey." he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. It lacked the usual bravado, the teasing edge you’d grown so used to. Instead, it carried something raw, something unguarded. "No matter what happens out there… sing. Don’t stop. Make sure you sing well. You have to win. Okay?"

His words were sharp and urgent, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. You nodded, but confusion flickered across your face. Ryomen Sukuna had never been this way with you before—so vulnerable, so unlike his usual self.

"Okay." you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered. "I will. I promise."

He didn’t let go, not right away. His grip loosened slightly, his thumb brushing your sleeve in a way that felt almost absentminded. You could feel your breath quiver at his touch, you looked at him for a moment, trying to take it all in. All of him in.

"Okay." he muttered, his eyes dropping for a brief moment before meeting yours again. "Sing as hard as you can. I’ll be here. Waiting for you. No matter what.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a cloak, warm and heavy. "Sukuna… why are you saying this now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk returned, but it was softer this time, tinged with something that looked suspiciously like worry. "Someone has to tell you that they’re waiting. I have to. So you’ll come back.”

You blinked, a small laugh escaping you despite the tension. “I’ll always come back. You know that.”

You could see his jaw tighten at your words. “Yeah. I know.”

The announcement once again rang out for the start, perhaps even louder this time, signaling your final call. He finally let go of your arm, his hand lingering just a second too long before he stepped back.

"Go, little lamb." he said, his voice firmer now. "Show them what you’ve got."

As you turned to walk toward the stage, the gravity of the moment hit you. His words, his touch, his uncharacteristic vulnerability. You know that they weren’t just about the performance. They were about you. About everything you’d worked for, everything you meant to him, even if he couldn’t quite say it outright.

You glanced back one last time and saw him standing there, arms crossed, his fiery red hair catching the strange, otherworldly light. His smirk had returned in full, but his eyes gave him away. No, there was hope there. And maybe, just maybe, a flicker of fear.

And as you stepped onto the stage, the lights blinding and the crowd’s anticipation palpable, you felt a strange sense of calm. You didn’t know why. But you could only look at it later as the calm before the storm that would change your life forever.

The space was nothing like the vibrant, celebratory arenas you’d imagined. It was stark and sterile, the kind of place that drained warmth from the air. The floor was smooth and reflective. You think that you could see your reflection if you look hard enough.

The audience or what passed for one was a collection of alien beings and floating orbs, their glowing forms pulsating with eerie rhythm. It was also broadcasting live all over the universe and even into the other galaxies. 

Across from you stood your opponent. He was about your age, his dark hair messy, his expression somewhere between fear and resignation. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but the moment passed, and the caretakers began their cold instructions.

"The match begins now." one of them announced.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as the first note left your lips. The song you sang wasn’t what they’d wanted from you. It was the rigid, controlled melodies drilled into you during practice. Instead, you poured everything into the song, letting your voice carry the raw, unfiltered emotions you’d kept hidden. Fear, hope, defiance—it was all there, spilling out into the room.

Your opponent responded, his voice trembling but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t a battle just yet, no. In that moment, it was a conversation between lovers, having a desperate exchange to bring back a love that was near the end of its lifetime.

You sang as hard as you could, as well as you could. And you didn’t stop. But soon enough, it ended just as fast as it began. The moment the last notes faded, the orbs above began to glow, casting their silent judgment. A brilliant light radiated from your side of the stage, signaling the tally of the votes to announce your victory.

For a heartbeat, you felt relief—until you saw your opponent’s face.

His eyes widened in terror as a column of light descended from above, surrounding him in an otherworldly glow of bright red neon lights. And then you heard the gunshots. You reached out instinctively, a scream tearing from your throat, but it was too late. The light consumed him. Soon enough, it was his blood pooling down the stage.

Just a moment ago, he was something.

And now, he lay there dead, nothing.

Nothing but a pile of blood and death.

You stumbled back, your legs giving out as you collapsed to the cold, unforgiving floor. Your hands trembled, clutching at nothing, your voice gone as the weight of what had just happened crushed you. Your eyes were trembling, you couldn’t look away from what once was a living being.

Someone had approached, their serene tone in sharp contrast to the horror you felt. "Congratulations to you." they said. "You have advanced to the next round."

The words barely registered. All you could think about was the boy’s face, his fear, his voice, now silenced forever. You wanted to scream, you wanted to shout. You wanted to tell them that an innocent young boy was killed for losing, and how horrid that is. There was nothing else you could do, as they ushered you away from the sweltering blood pouring down from the stage to the audience below.

When they led you off the stage, Sukuna was waiting. His scarlet eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, he didn’t need to ask what had happened. He already knew, you didn’t have to tell him. And yet just as much, the answer was written all over your face. You don’t want to talk about it.

"They killed him, didn’t they?" he asked, his voice low, trembling with restrained fury.

You nodded, the motion barely perceptible as your body shook. Sukuna’s hands balled into fists, his jaw tightening as he pulled you into a fierce embrace. Your tears started to flow against his shoulder as you rested your chin against it. 

"I should've told you to run away. I should have stopped you." he muttered, his voice cracking. "I should’ve gotten you out of here before—"

His words broke off, replaced by a heavy silence. For a long time, neither of you moved. You clung to him, your breaths shaky and uneven, his arms a shield against the unbearable truth that the stage wasn’t about music or talent or dreams. 

It was a death sentence.

This is what the aliens at Starlight’s home would be excited about. This is what they gush over their human pets, children— would be doing. They would sing and they would lose and they would die. For entertainment. And you hated it. The thought of it all made you want to hurl everything in your stomach.

"They never told us." you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. "They never said what this was."

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes blazing with anger. But then there was regret. And then guilt. And then anger once again, for himself. For his stupidity.

He didn’t tell you anything either. He should have. Why didn’t he? Why didn’t he tell you? He was complicit in robbing you of your innocence. He was complicit in your grief. And even soon, your loss of life.

"They never tell how it happens. Now it’s guns.”

"But... why?"

"Because they can," he said bitterly. "Because we’re just pieces in their game."

For the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t have a plan, and didn't have an answer for how to fix this. He didn’t know what to do, now that you had been robbed of what made you who you were,  your humanity. Yet, all he had was you, and all you had was him.

But as you sat there, wrapped in his arms, something began to harden in you. The Aanakt Garden’s beauty, the caretakers’ promises, the Stage’s allure—it was all a lie. It will always be a lie.

It will always be a place where the cattle grows and gets ready for the slaughter. While the whole galaxy could watch. And now, you couldn’t unsee it. Now you can’t escape it. Neither could Sukuna.

"We’re getting out of here." he said finally, his voice steady but laced with steel. "I don’t care how, but we’re not staying in this hell."

And in that moment, you liked to think you believed him.

If anyone was going to get out, you think, it would be Sukuna.

And yet, that ugly feeling in your gut told you — no one escapes this.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE PLAN WAS AIRTIGHT, AT LEAST IT SEEMS LIKE IT. Or rather as close as it could be when desperation was your main driving force. There was some time before the next stage, where Sukuna was going to face another opponent. 

And so in that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent weeks mapping out the routines of the caretakers and teachers, and the additional security and studying their movements and making an accurate layout of the Anakt Garden. He whispered the plan to you late at night under the glowing trees, his voice steady despite the fire in his scarlet eyes.

"We’re getting out of here, little lamb." he’d said. "I’m not letting them keep us locked up like this."

You trusted him completely. You always have. Sukuna had always been your anchor, your protector in this wretched place. He was your salvation, and he will continue to be. You will escape with him. And you will see Starlight again. And you would be free, together. That was the plan. 

But not all plans will go your way. No. Not at all. If anything, things will always go awry. Almost immediately, someone notices. And almost immediately, the meticulous plan that had been  compromised. The alarm rings from one hall to another. And you hadn’t noticed it yet.

As you ran through the dimly lit corridors of the facility, Ryomen Sukuna leading the way with his usual reckless confidence, alarms blared. The sound pierced through the still air, loud and jarring. Your heart pounded as alien drones descended downward, their glowing forms moving with terrifying precision.

"Go!" Sukuna shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as he shoved you ahead. "I’ll hold them off!"

"No! Sukuna!" you cried, grabbing his arm. "We do this together!"

But the drones were faster. Before you could react, one of them fired a net-like energy beam that wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. Sukuna roared in rage, lunging at the drone, but another blast struck him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Run!" you screamed, but he didn’t listen. 

Ryomen Sukuna never listened when it came to you.

Almost immediately after that, they had dragged you both back. And the Garden was on a lockdown. It was evident with how the glow of their containment fields cast an eerie light over the corridors, along the fully locked halls and pathways. 

The cold, unyielding walls of the facility pressed in around you, each step back toward the Garden feeling heavier than the last. And you hated it. You absolutely hated it. But you hated even more that Ryomen Sukuna could not look you in the eye.

Sukuna was truly bitter about the failure.

Grievous because you were still here, trapped.

Mournful because both of you could have been free.

When you arrived, Ryomen Sukuna’s alien guardian was waiting. Starlight had always been stern, but Sukuna’s guardian was something else entirely. You were scared of them almost instantaneously. 

They were a towering, cold figure with a presence that seemed to sap the air from the room. Its form shimmered with an intense, otherworldly energy, and their piercing gaze locked onto Sukuna the moment he entered in his presence. Just as much as their fist locked against his human pet’s jaw.

"You reckless little fool." the alien hissed, its voice a low, vibrating hum that resonated in your chest. "Do you understand what you’ve done?"

Sukuna spat blood onto the floor, his red eyes blazing with defiance. "Yeah. I tried to leave. And I’d do it again."

The alien’s form seemed to darken, its glow pulsing angrily. "You endangered everything. Your place here, your future—her future!" It turned its piercing gaze on you, and you shrank back instinctively. “You got sent here to straighten yourself and now you punish someone else with you? What a wretched bastard you are, aren’t you?”

"Leave her out of this." Sukuna growled, stepping in front of you despite his injuries. "If you’ve got a problem, it’s with me."

The tension in the air was suffocating, heavy with unspoken threats and the sharp bite of inevitability. The alien stood before you both, its shimmering form radiating an icy menace that cut deeper than its words. Its gaze was fixed on Sukuna, unyielding and cold, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"I warned you," the alien said, its voice devoid of the warmth it had once feigned, now reduced to a blade of frigid authority. "Just like last time. This is not a place for rebellion. It is a place of purpose, a place of order. I sent you here for that purpose. Because you’re a wretched little fool who likes trouble. And still—still—you defy any sense."

Sukuna’s laugh was sharp, bitter, and defiant, like shards of glass scattering across the floor. "And what’s the consequence, huh?" he spat, stepping forward despite the guards already inching closer. His crimson eyes burned with a rage that even the alien seemed wary of. "You’ve already threatened to kill me before. You should just do it, goddamn it. Kill me already and free me from my misery."

The alien tilted its head, as if considering the words, and then its gaze shifted to you. The moment it did, the air seemed to chill further, and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Then I should kill the girl too.” it said, its tone as casual as discussing the weather.

“You will do no such thing, sir.” One of the caretakers speaks up, as Sukuna’s guardian looks to them. “You cannot touch the property of another.”

“Surely it doesn’t matter.” His alien speaks once again, looking at you. “I doubt this girl’s alien will have any trouble replacing her–”

“No!” The word tore from your throat before you could stop it, fear coursing through you like ice.

Sukuna’s reaction was instant, explosive to your fear. His eyes widened, but only for a heartbeat before narrowing with unrestrained fury. He lunged toward the alien, his movements wild, reckless. With an intent to kill.

"You bastard! I’ll tear you limb from limb if you ever DARE touch her!”

But the guards were ready. They seized him before he could even get close, their metallic hands clamping down on his arms with a force that made you wince. He struggled against them, snarling like a caged animal, his red hair wild and his expression murderous.

“Let me go!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You think you can threaten her? You think I’ll let you? I’ll kill you with my bare hands!"

“I’m telling you again, sir.” The alien caretaker says once more. “You cannot touch another alien’s property without them knowing. You are not their owner. You cannot punish them without their owner’s approval.”

The alien remained unfazed with what the caretaker said, its gaze shifting between you and Sukuna like a judge deliberating a sentence. They snicker at the caretaker’s words, narrowing his gaze to your frightful look. “Very well. Take my own to his sleeping cell.”

“I won’t let you! Not this time!” Sukuna screams like a wildman.

Sukuna struggles against the guards. He nearly gets away, but is quickly apprehended. He growls as he tries to attack them from the side, but they tackle him to the ground. You tried to approach him, but the caretaker pulled you away. Sukuna’s guardian lowers themselves to look at him, eye to eye.

“You will learn, you brat.” They said finally, its tone edged with finality. “Both of you will learn. Separately.”

The word hit you like a blow. 

Separately. 

“No, no.” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, you can’t—”

The alien ignored your protests, gesturing sharply to the guards. "I can do what I want. He is mine.” He looks at Sukuna again and snickers. “We shall have a good conversation, won’t we? Take him. Lock him where his fire can burn no one but himself."

"Sukuna!" you screamed as they dragged him away.

He fought against them with everything he had, his voice a feral growl. You too struggle against the caretaker, but no matter how much you both tried to pull from the gravity of separation, you tried to get closer. Yet it was for naught, as they managed to pull him away from your proximity. Your tears started to fall once more.

“I’ll find you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours even as he was forced through the doorway. “Don’t give up! I’ll find you—I swear!”

And then he was gone.

His guardian follows behind him.

And you knew, you knew what he’ll endure.

You stood frozen, trembling, the caretaker alien’s presence looming over you like a shadow. Its gaze turned back to you, assessing. You looked to the ground, not wanting to show them the tears you were spilling for Sukuna.

“You should hope his words are hollow.” they said, its voice dripping with cold disdain. “Because hope will only destroy you.”

And with that, it turned and left, leaving you standing alone in the silence of the chamber. The absence of Sukuna’s fiery presence felt like a void threatening to swallow you whole. But even in the stillness, his last words echoed in your mind, a flicker of warmth against the growing cold. Don’t give up. I’ll find you.

And no matter what, you held on to that promise.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THEY WERE FORCING EVERYONE TO WATCH THE NEXT ROUND. But you knew that they were doing this especially for you. You knew they were. It was Sukuna’s performance on the stage that day.

And you could see how exhausted he was, how brutalized his soul was. At some points, purple shade was peaking through his costume. You knew what that meant. And that had made you weep. 

His performance had left the entire arena in a stunned silence. The lights above flickered dimly, casting long shadows that stretched across the cold, metallic floor. The haunting, heavy lyrics that poured from his lips didn’t just fill the air. Each and every word was him, each and every semblance of harmony belonged to him,

Everyone in that arena was consumed by it. Each and every note shifts the energy in the room, warping everything around him. His voice, raw and unrelenting, bled emotion. All his pain, sorrow, fury and in every word, there was a piece of him. A piece that he hadn’t shown anyone before. A piece of him that you knew and now were knowing even more.

You stood just out of sight, as caretakers wanted.You stayed hidden in the shadows just below the arena, watching as Sukuna let the song carry him. You could see the strain in his expression, the way his jaw clenched with each line.

It was as if he was born to be the song. It was as if the words themselves were a personal confession to all that were watching him The black sorrow he sang about wasn’t just an abstract emotion; it was something he had lived, something that clung to him like a second skin.

The first verse seemed to echo a truth he’d carried with him since the beginning of your time together. There was always a distance between him and everyone else. He had always been the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. 

And yet, in the quiet darkness of the stage, there was you—his closest companion, the person who understood the weight of his heart. The loneliness in his voice spoke volumes: he wanted to reach someone, but there was always a wall between them, and that wall was made of sorrow, isolation, and the crushing weight of expectations.

He had sung like this for you before, in the quiet moments when he thought no one else was listening. But now, he wasn’t singing for you—he was singing for everyone. He wanted them to know his misery. He wanted them to know how much they had taken from him. 

This wasn’t just him pouring out his heart to you, no. It was also for the aliens who were taking in his siren’s song. For the aliens who had taken him from his home, for the caretakers who controlled his fate, and for himself.

The chorus rang out like the final bell of a war that had no victor—only casualties. He held the mic stand closer to him. The imagery was powerful, as he tilted his head to belt out the note. Each connecting harmony was like a deep, endless sea that threatened to swallow everything in its path. 

In that moment, as the echoes of Sukuna’s voice faded into the suffocating silence of the chamber you were in. There was a realization that struck you like a lightning bolt to the chest. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just fighting the system, the Garden, or the alien overlords who sought to mold him into their image. 

He was fighting something deeper, something far more insidious: the darkness that had been festering in his soul for far longer than you’d known him. That defiance, that fire that burned so brightly in him, wasn’t just rebellion. 

No, it was a shield. A desperate attempt to hold back the weight of his own despair. And you hadn’t understood it then. Not fully. Not until now.

Memories of him flooded your mind: the way he laughed like it was armor, the way he played his guitar like it was the only thing holding him together, the way he smiled—wide, cocky, and so achingly fragile if you knew where to look. 

That was that smile, wasn’t it, Sukuna? you thought bitterly, tears slipping down your cheeks unchecked. A smile that didn’t just hide pain but dared it to come closer, to strike harder. You didn’t have to face it alone, but you did. Again and again. Because you thought you had to.

Your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at the fabric of your sleeves as if the motion could ground you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the ache in your chest suffocating. 

"You wanted to die." you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the truth. "You wanted to be free, to let it all end."

And then the thought hit you like a second wave of agony, sharp and relentless. And I was there. I was there, and you couldn’t help it. 

The tears came harder now, your sobs wracking your frame as you clutched your knees to your chest. You felt guilt, beyond what you should. He too made his choices. He made his choice to live with you. Even if it was making him suffer. But that guilt, you want to free him too. 

You want to be free with him. And how, that might not even happen. Not in this life. Even if you don’t want to give up, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep this up. You wanted to be selfish with him too, to want him by your side for as long as you both lived. And yet, you don’t know what to do anymore as you listen to him sing more and more.

"You stayed." you choked out, the words meant for him even though he was no longer there to hear them. "You stayed… for me."

Your mind spun with the weight of it. Sukuna’s anger wasn’t just about rebellion or resistance. It was the fury of someone who had been forced to live a life they never asked for, over and over again, only to find a glimmer of something, or someone worth staying for. 

And that someone was you.

He chose you, only you.

In that moment, as the final notes faded into the silence, Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened, just a fraction. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something in his eyes that told you he had given everything on that stage. He always will. Even if he didn’t want to.

The votes quickly came in.

He turned to his opponent. 

And he watched, his eyes cold.

The red spilled on his face.

Ryomen Sukuna had won the round.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU STARED AT THE SCREEN. The days leading up to the next stage were filled with uncertainty, the tension thick in the air. Sukuna and you hadn’t spoken much since his performance, both of you retreating into your thoughts. 

The silence between you two was loaded, heavy with unspoken fears and doubts. Neither of you could shake the knowledge that things were escalating. The stakes were rising, and no one, not even Sukuna, could protect you from what was coming.

Then came the announcement.

The one that would change everything.

You were going to face each other.

This was the last few rounds. And these were the rounds where the most dangerous matches took place. A place where the brightest stars were either made or shattered, and where the strongest were left standing. The announcement echoed through the Garden, their cold voices coming over the loudspeakers, numbing you with their indifference. 

They didn’t care that you and Sukuna had a bond. Or that there was something more between you. They didn’t care about your shared past or your quiet moments of rebellion. Nor could they care about your wanting for freedom. None of that mattered to them.

To them, you were just pieces in a game, and now the pieces were being moved into position for the final battle. The moment you heard it, you froze. The words felt like ice, the truth of them setting in slowly, like a bitter poison coursing through your veins.

You and Sukuna were going to face each other.

You felt the world shift under your feet. Your body went numb as the weight of the situation began to sink in. But even in that moment of paralysis, you could hear the distant, familiar sound of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice—strong, fierce, and close. He was wearing a collar. That was something he had never worn before.

"Sukuna..." you whispered, your throat dry as you turned to face him. This was the first time you’ve seen him since you were parted. “I….”

He was standing near the edge of the arena, his posture rigid, his expression dark. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something far more serious. His eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were clouded with a deep, furious storm. He didn’t look like the same person who had stood on the stage with such confidence before.

Sukuna’s gaze locked onto you, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to read you, to understand the words he wasn’t yet hearing. But the words in your mind were loud and clear: you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fight him. And you were pretty sure he didn’t want to fight you either.

"I won’t let you die." he growled, his voice low, but full of unrelenting anger. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw twitching. You could see the frustration building in him, the same frustration you felt, but much more visceral, raw. 

"This isn’t some damn game. They’re trying to use us, twist us up into something we’re not." His breath was ragged as he took a step toward you, his gaze never wavering. "We’re not toys. I won’t let them take you from me. I swear."

You could feel your chest tighten as you watched him, your mind swirling with confusion. You didn’t want to fight him. You didn’t want to be a part of this blood-soaked game. But what choice did you have? What else was there left to do but survive?

"I don’t want to do this." you whispered, the weight of the situation sinking into your bones.

Sukuna’s expression softened for just a split second before the fire returned, burning brighter than ever. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you both with deliberate steps, his eyes searching your face. 

"Then don’t." he said, his voice steady now, though it was strained with emotion. "Just let me do what I can, alright? Let me figure it out.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was a way out, a way to escape this nightmare together. But deep down, you knew how this deadly game worked. You had seen the carnage before. And it's doubtful this will be the last. Not even his promises are enough to calm you down.

You had watched as real people were broken one after the other. Crushed under the weight of this deadly game, this stupid game you didn’t want to play. And you knew that in the end, it’s not likely to end. They don’t want it to end. They want to see the blood spill, so they may applaud.

But still, the desperation in his voice pulled at you, pulling you closer to him. There felt a horrible sense of finality. A finality you never wanted. Not with him. You don’t want it to end. Not ever. Not when it comes to loving him. 

Ryomen Sukuna had always been your protector, your anchor. But now, the roles seemed reversed. He was the one who needed saving, and you were the only one who could save him from the thing that haunted him. 

But the price is your death. You had to die to save him. To keep him from suffering. And the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from this isn’t going to save him either. He wouldn’t let this happen. He doesn’t want to, either.

"I can’t lose you." Sukuna muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but the pain in it was so raw that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I love you too much to let you go.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to ground him, to remind him that you were here, and you were still alive. But the terror in his eyes told you everything you needed to know: this wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about protecting each other from the very forces that had taken control of your lives.

“I love you too.” You whisper back to him, almost so brokenly. “I don’t want to let you go either. I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening. "Not like this.We can’t lose each other like this.”

You tried to pull him closer, but the weight of the situation was too heavy. You could see it in his eyes—the guilt, the anger, the desperation. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being forced to fight him, to be torn apart in front of everyone. But what were your choices?

You both knew the truth. You could either submit to the rules and fight each other, or you could rebel against them, together. And if you did that, the price would be steep. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes softened, though the anger remained.

"Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked him softly. 

“For being the object of my affections.” He whispers to your ear, leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions. My love and my hatred. All of it.”

You looked at him for a moment before smiling, eyes getting watery. You could feel the warmth of his kiss sear on your skin, like a burn from the flame. Like a moth burning in the candlelight. You wanted more of him. You wanted more of his love. And his hatred. You wanted it all.

But there will never be enough time. 

There will never be another time.

You cannot escape this time, not like this.

“Thank you for letting me have all of them.” You whisper back to him.

He returns your smile. “It was my pleasure.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

SOON ENOUGH, THE STAGE WAS PELTED BY THE POURING RAIN. And still, they will continue this, no matter what. It had to end here. There was no other way out. The harsh, mechanical buzz of the arena’s lights flickered above you, and the air was thick with the weight of the moment. 

You were back on the stage, but this time, everything had changed. Everyone had their cold eyes watching from every angle. Everything was properly set by now, to the perfection of their wants. All that was left was the stage to have two people, singing for a deadly performance. 

The stage was set, the tension palpable in the air as the crowd held its breath. Everything around you shimmered with the anticipation of what was about to unfold. The lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the space, and then, the music began to play.

A haunting melody rippled through the speakers, its ethereal sound sinking deep into your bones. The notes wove together like a sorrowful tale, threading through the very air that surrounded you. It filled the chamber, wrapping itself around you like an inescapable fog. 

You could feel it—the weight of the lyrics, heavy with longing and sorrow. You sang them as they were. They spoke of parting, of loss, of moments slipping through your fingers like sand. It was as though the song had been crafted specifically for this moment, for this fight, for the end of something you never wanted to end.

You had expected the chaos, the passion, the defiance that always accompanied Sukuna’s performances. But now, as the music surged, something shifted. Sukuna, his scarlet eyes locked on yours across the stage, suddenly stopped singing. 

The notes faltered in the air, the rhythm stuttering as he stood still. His lips no longer moved in time with the music. The sharp edge of his voice, so used to biting, so full of fire—was gone. The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze never wavered from yours, but it wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky look. There was no defiance there. There was no challenge. There was no will to fight. Instead, there was only something far deeper, more painful. 

You had noticed it too late, how resigned he already was to this raw, aching realization that you both had reached the brink. The consequences of this moment, the weight of it all, had become far too real for him. You saw it in his scarlet eyes. That flicker of something that you knew was just for you. 

Something more human, more vulnerable, than you’d ever seen before. The walls he’d built around himself, the fire he had fought so hard to keep alive, all began to crumble, leaving him exposed in a way that made your heart ache. And then, against the cold droplets of rain that began to fall from the sky, Sukuna smiled.

It wasn’t the usual smug, arrogant grin you were so accustomed to. It was softer, almost bittersweet. It was the sort of smile that carried the weight of everything unspoken between you. That was a smile of adoration, that was a smile of hatred — that was the smile of devotion.

He stood there as you sang. It was as if the rain had washed away the last of his resistance, as if the music itself had torn down the walls that had held him together for so long.In that moment, you realized something. 

That smile—fragile as it was—wasn’t a mask. It wasn’t a challenge or a jest. It was surrender. Ryomen Sukuna had always been the one to defy the world, to push against everything that tried to contain him. But now, standing there in the midst of the storm, he was no longer fighting. He had accepted it all.

"I should’ve known." he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the rain. The words were barely more than a whisper, but they carried a depth of emotion that took you by surprise. "I should’ve known that... this was always going to be the end. For both of us."

You heard him and you almost forgot your part in the song. You longed to say something—to tell him that there was still time, that you could still fight, that you didn’t have to end this way. But the words died on your throat. You continued to sing.

Because the truth was, you could see it too. The end was already written in the stars.You knew it too, you knew it too well. The inevitable was crashing toward you both, and no matter how much you fought it, it was going to happen.

Sukuna’s smile wavered as he watched you continue to sing. And for a moment, the man you knew, that man you loved, the fiery, untamable force….He was gone. He had let him die at that moment. All that remained was a broken man, drenched in rain, standing at the edge of something he couldn’t escape.

The music swelled again, but this time, it wasn’t just about the performance. It was about you both, about the fragile connection that had formed in the midst of all the chaos. The music no longer felt like a fight—it felt like a goodbye.

To him, this only ends one way. 

If someone must survive, it has to be you.

He all but abandons his space, the rain pouring even heavier than ever. You were surprised as he pulled you close to him. Tears and raindrops all over your face. He was quick to know which were tears and which were the rain. He smiled. The music continued to play in the background.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for your face, brushing away a tear that had escaped. The song continued to swell deeper and deeper, and his turn to sing was upcoming. But Ryomen Sukuna’s lips were no longer part of it. He doesn’t want it to be. He wanted to die the way he wanted to.

His mouth pressed against yours in a kiss that was raw and desperate, a kiss that spoke of goodbye, of all the unspoken feelings between you both. A kiss that felt like a last act of defiance, a refusal to be another pawn in their game.

For a fleeting moment, everything else disappeared. The noise of the arena, the eyes of everyone watching this, the weight of the stage—all of it melted away as you kissed him back, pouring every ounce of emotion into that single act. 

Your kiss was hard and angry, angry at him for choosing this route. Hard because you wanted him to feel your pain, the pain that he was leaving you with as you continued on to live. You pulled him even closer. You part to breathe but you pull him back in even more. You continued on and on until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Soon enough the pelting of the guns started, there wasn’t even the neon red to warn you. They continued to shoot one after another. One to his shoulder, another to his back. But he kissed you back even more, his hands around your throat. As though to tell you his own pain in parting. More shots rang out, one after the other. 

As your lips parted, his expression hardened, scarlet eyes flashing with the finality of his decision. Blood pouring out his lips as he smiles at you, almost so hauntingly with his hands still wrapped around your throat with such eager tightness. 

"You have to live." he whispered, his voice rough, breaking. "You have to survive."

The bullets continued to tear through him, their cold, metallic scream louder than the music itself. His body jerked with each impact, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he staggered back, the warmth of the kiss he had given you still lingering on your lips, the taste of it bitter with the knowledge of what was coming. His rough, brutish hands slowly, and then finally off your reddening neck.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your long lost breath hitched in your throat as your entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. The music continued, relentless, as though mocking the pain in your chest. You wanted to scream, to stop them, but your voice was stolen by the sorrow that flooded your body.

Ryomen Sukuna crumpled to the ground, blood staining the stage beneath him, his chest rising and falling weakly, but his scarlet eyes never left yours. He wanted to look at you. He wanted you to keep looking at him. He was still there, still fighting, still telling you to live, even as life drained from him.

The music reached its climax, the voice of the singer rising in agony. Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh, the words rang out, but all you could feel was the sharp sting of your beloved’s corpse in front of you. The haunting notes continued as if nothing had changed, as if everything was still a game, but the truth was undeniable.

You cried out with everything in you, your desperate tears and the angry rain mixing with his blood on the stage, your heart breaking as you watched him slip away. Until he was finally gone. Until he was nothing but a bleeding flesh corpse in front of you. 

The music, now a distant, broken sound in your ears, felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest. Each note seemed to draw the last remnants of air from your lungs, suffocating you as you stood frozen on the stage. 

Ryomen Sukuna's blood continued to stain the floor and mix into the water ceaselessly, pooling beneath him, but his scarlet eyes... his eyes that you so loved were still on you, still filled with the fire of a promise, a plea.

His last breath was shallow, but his expression never wavered. Live, his eyes said. Survive.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear the entire world apart for what they had made of him, for the life they had stolen. But instead, you stood there, powerless. The caretakers' voices crackled through the speakers, indifferent to the tragedy they had orchestrated.

They had made you fight. They had made you kill. But Sukuna had chosen to fall for you. He had chosen to make sure you had the chance to escape the nightmare, even if it meant giving up his own life.

And the weight of that choice was too much to bear.

You were still there, staring at him, when they gave the signal. The arena, the very place where your blood had spilled—your tears mixed with the blood on the stage—was just another part of the system they controlled. 

Another place where they took away everything and gave nothing in return. The system that controlled your fate, controlled Sukuna's fate, was now turning its eyes to you. But in the midst of the flashing lights and the cold, sterile voices that told you to continue, that told you to perform, you made a decision. You weren't going to give them what they wanted. Not like this.

Your body trembled, but your heart, for the first time in so long, felt certain. You weren't just going to survive anymore. You weren’t going to let this system take everything from you, your life, your soul, your love for Sukuna, without fighting back.

You dropped to your knees beside him, the echo of his sacrifice reverberating through your chest. His body was still warm, still twitching with the last remnants of life, but you knew it was too late. He was gone.

But the part of him that lived. The part that had made sure you would survive. That was not lost. And that was something they couldn’t take. You didn’t care if they were watching. You didn’t care if they were observing your every move. 

You leaned over Sukuna’s body, placing a trembling hand over his heart, now still. And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a thread being pulled taut and finally breaking. The arena’s speakers crackled, and a voice you didn’t recognize spoke.

“Stage completion.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

The soft glow of the rising sun began to creep into the room, its warm fingers stretching across the floor, painting the walls with hues of gold and amber. The world outside was still, caught between the shadows of the night and the promise of a new day.

But here, in this quiet space, there was a peace that neither of you had ever known. The chaos of the alien stage, the endless battles, the pain, and the sacrifices—they all seemed distant, swallowed up by the serenity of the moment.

You lay there, your head resting on Sukuna’s legs, your body relaxed in the rare comfort of his presence. The rhythmic hum of your song, soft and almost hypnotic, filled the air.

It was a song that had become an anchor for both of you, a melody that whispered of things you had lost and things you still held dear. Your humming wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing the raw edges of his soul that had been scarred by too many years of violence.

Sukuna’s fingers, long and deft, traced the strands of your hair, moving slowly and deliberately, almost as though he were trying to carve this moment into his memory, like it was the only thing that made sense in a world that had long since turned upside down. His hand paused at the crown of your head, his fingers resting lightly as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace between you.

"You’re still humming, little lamb." Sukuna said.

You were surprised that his voice was unusually quiet, the words more of an observation than a question. His fingers toyed with the ends of your hair, curling a few strands around his finger and letting them slip through his grasp, as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. 

"You always sing when you’re... content."

You glanced up at him, your eyes still heavy with the warmth of sleep, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I always sing when I remember the good things." you whispered, your voice a soft murmur. "The things that make everything worth it."

Sukuna’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a brief glimpse of something that had always been there but was too buried beneath the armor he wore to ever show. His hand moved from your hair, trailing down the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. It was such a simple touch, but it carried with it more meaning than he had ever given to words.

"The good things?" His voice was low, almost hushed, as if he were afraid to disturb the peace between you. "What good things, huh?" He shifted slightly, his hand resting beside you now, his fingers grazing the surface of your skin.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his touch sink in, the quiet rhythm of your song keeping the silence comfortable. You let the words come, not thinking about them too much, just allowing them to spill from your heart.

"The times when we didn’t have to fight." you said softly, almost to yourself. "When everything was simpler. When it was just us... and the world felt like it was still ours to take."

Sukuna didn’t speak at first, his gaze far away as if he were lost in his own thoughts. His hand didn’t move from where it rested on the side of your face, his thumb now gently stroking your skin as if trying to memorize the sensation. There was a vulnerability in his touch that he rarely allowed anyone to see, but in this moment, with the soft light of dawn spilling over the both of you, it felt right.

"You really believe in that?" he asked after a long pause, his voice quieter than it had ever been. "You really think we could ever go back to something... simple?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of the years you had spent in the fight for survival. But there was something in the way his hand lingered on your cheek, something in the way he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you that made you smile again.

"I think….." you began, your voice steady. "We make our own simple things in life. We can decide to live in the good things, even if the rest of the world is falling apart around us."

Sukuna’s gaze softened, his features easing for a moment as if your words had found something deep within him, something he hadn’t known he was missing. He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

"You’re right, I suppose." he said quietly, his hand slowly shifting to the side of your head again, fingers gently threading through your hair. "Maybe... maybe we don’t have to fight all the time. Maybe we don’t have to live in the dark. Not if we don’t want to."

His words hung in the air like a promise, tentative but real. The two of you stayed there in the quiet, the hum of your song filling the space around you like a soft lullaby. The sun was fully risen now, and the light poured through the window, bathing the room in warmth.

The world outside might have been a battlefield, a place where survival meant everything, where love and peace seemed impossible. But here, in this moment, with Sukuna’s fingers tangled in your hair and the world reduced to the two of you, it felt like anything was possible. You could make your own good things, even if it was just for a little while.

"Stay with me, forever, ‘kuna." you murmured, the words almost too soft to hear, but he heard them all the same. You tilted your head up slightly, looking into his eyes. "Please, stay."

Ryomen Sukuna looked down at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he nodded, his voice steady. He lets out a small smile on his lips. A smile he always reserved warmly for you. Only you.

"I’m not going anywhere, little lamb." he said quietly. "Not if I don’t have to."

You smiled back at him. “Good.”

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Nov 18th

~*~

1. hi !! this is for itmf for post canon fics that explore lan sizhui and wwx's relationship :D maybe some hurt/comfort or angst with happy ending! thanks for ur hardwork!! <3

🔒remember the moments when we were together by RoseThorne (T, 2k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Memories, Depressio, nImplied/Referenced Suicide, wwx needs a hug, Regret, Self-Esteem Issues, Loneliness, Crying, Hugs, Truth, Post-Canon, PTSD, Father-Son Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, CQL-centric, POV LSZ)

🔒 Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, LSZ & WWX, JL & WWX, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Feels, Family Bonding, POV LSZ, This Fic Has Everything, even more yearning, WWX & LSZ figuring out wtf their relationship is, Dramatic Revelations)

the place your heart inhabits by Fleetling (T, 8k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Father Figures, father-son bonding, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Humor, Oblivious WWX, Pining WWX, WWX-centric, Good Kid LSZ, Adopted LSZ, Wingman LSZ, LSZ is LWJ & WWX's Child, Good LSZ, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, WWX goes back to gusu, resentful energy, Golden Core, wwx has both and it's a struggle, Unreliable Narrator)

your name, safe in their mouth by astrolesbian (G, 10k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Father-Son Relationship, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, More aligned with CQL than novel canon, Miscommunication, Eventual Positive Communication, Trying to be a family, how to tell your dad you want him to be your dad in 6 easy steps!)

Wei Wuxian's Delightful Demon Baby! by CheekyBrunette (T, 22k, WangXian, Case Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, POV LSZ, LSZ-centric, LSZ Needs a HugJealousy, Family Feels, Family Bonding, no babies are harmed in the making of this mystery, you are never too old to want parents who love you!, LSZ just wants to see his parents get together, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Canon Universe)

~*~

2. I’m in the mood for a fic where other people are gender-bent besides Wangxian. Thank you! @ahatfullofwords

you will never need another lover by pennydaniels (E, 44k, JFM/YZY, Gender Changes, Female JFM, Male YZY, Canon Divergence, character exploration, the struggles of an arranged marriage, Falling In Love, warning for abortion, YZY-centric) Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan are gender swapped

~*~

3. Hiya, I am in mood for fics with bondage! Prefer wangxian but won't mind NHS/Ch, 3zun, JYL/Ch or SL/XXC. Please no non-con/rape, hitting or slapping or any kind of impact play(?), and no pain play, thank you!

What happens at craft night by rheawrites (E, 4k, WWX/WQ, Always a girl WWX, Rule 63, Kink Discovery, Shibari, Rope Bondage, Under-negotiated Kink, Friends With Benefits, Fibre Arts, Modern, Fluff and Smut)

Rope Bunny by Khashana (E, 2k, WangXian, Rope Bondage, BDSM, Rope Group, wangxian shipper JYL, Kink Negotiation, Subspace, Coming Untouched, Remix sort of, Rule 63, Always a Different Sex, Modern)

~*~

4. Hello! The other day I read a ff in which wwx was married to lwj and lxc also had a spouse (meng yao iirc) and lxc's spouse was everyone's favorite and wwx was kind of ignored and treated badly, I was hoping for more fanfics similar to this with the difference that I want it to be treated as something that isn't fair by both the characters and the narrative, like wwx is always treated badly by most adults in his life and how sad/disappointing it is that this doesn't change in the Lan clan

~*~

5. Hi! Could you find/recommend fanfics for me?

A) where wei wuxian suffers flesh trauma from eating corpses/humans in the burial mounds

B) one of dark lan wangji, but where he doesn't try anything with wei wuxian, he likes him, but doesn't try to do him any harm

thanks to any soul who can help me @quwieiidkd

5A)

my eyes got used to the darkness by curiositykilled (M, 4k, JC & WWX, JC & WWX & JYL, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Body Horror, Implied Cannibalism, Dehumanization, Sunshot Campaign, YLLZ WWX, Demonic Cultivation, PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Ghosts, Disordered Eating, Referenced Animal Abuse, 🔒 [Podfic] my eyes got used to the darkness by flamingwell) assuming the requester is asking for WWX suffering PTSD from being forced into cannibalism in the Burial Mounds, this one fits the bill

A Corruption of Comfort by BegrudginglyTumbling (SarcasticSmiler) (M, 1k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, Eating Disorders, Vomiting, Cannibalism, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst)

Lakes of wine and forests of meat by androktasia (M, 1k, WangXian, Cannibalism, Aftermath of Cannibalism, WWX's Burial Mounds trauma, Post-Canon, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Non-Linear Narrative, art included, Image description in the alt text) with more in depth exploration of WWX's eating experiences and problems and some scenes of those experiences, before and including BM

💖 the absence of hunger by parsnipit (M, 27k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Starvation, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Body Worship, Praise Kink, ft. WWX’s really fucked up relationship with food, PTSD, Flashbacks, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Cannibalism) WY has an explicit nightmare about BM but the work is mostly about PTSD, not exactly a straight-up reaction to eating smth)

🔒 the aftertaste of desperation by moonshine (princemin) (M, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Nightmares, Cannibalism, Corpse Eating, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Trauma, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, welcome to my agenda: let wwx have a breakdown, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) a little bit, but also mostly about problems with food in general with thoughts about BM

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump) Don't pay attention to the rating of the fic, that only comes into play in basically the last chapter I believe.(it's been a bit since I fully read through this one) But be warned, he does try to hide his meat trauma so it's not prevalent for a while, and it's not the focus of the fic

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) Fair warning this does have the E scene in the first chapter before they're traumatized. But after WWX gets out of the BMs it is more prevalent that meat physically disgusts him now. But again not the focus of the fic, and it would do you well to /read the tags/ on this one. Both of them take place during and slightly after the sunshot campaign

5B)

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

🔒Something is wrong with A-Zhan! by HeloSoph (M, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Sort Of, Dark LWJ, Morally Gray WWX, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, WWX is a Lan, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, JC Bashing, Smitten LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Engaged WangXian, Blood and Violence, a lot of people die, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, because of, Shameless LWJ, LQR Tries, to fit into the following tag, Good Uncle LQR, Semi-Public Sex, or at least wangxian's version of it, Scheming NHS, POV NHS)

Like stones on an unseen board by Vir_Abelasan (Not rated, 11k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Teacher LWJ, dark twin jades, Age Difference, Manipulation, Protective LWJ, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Relatively canon-typical abusive Jiangs, WWX Get a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Not Jiang Clan Friendly)

Do not take that which does not belong to you by Selene210 (E, 7k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, dark LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Murder, Blood and Violence, WangXian married and have a son, Explicit Sexual Content, Biting, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Bath Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, WWX has an angry LWJ kink, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Wangxian canon breeding kink, LWJ’s canon massive dick)

💖 Somewhere Sits an Empty Throne by Siamesa (E, 19k, WangXian, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, tgcf fusion, Gods & Goddesses, Ghosts, Romance, vengeance, Dark LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Gold Blood Eyes by Loveable_Psychopath (T, 72k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Except the bad people, Dark LWJ, i guess?, He gets cursed and becomes a demonic cultivator, Established WangXian, Secret Relationship, Sentient Burial Mounds, Demonic Cultivation, Golden Core Reveal, Found Family, Character Study, Character Bashing, Implied/Referenced Child AbuseImplied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mental Health Issues, Communication, but also miscommunication, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, YZY Bashing, JFM Bashing)

~*~

6. I'm in the mood for any and all (if possible longer, multichaptered, complete) fics where

a) Wei Wuxian was taken in by Baoshan Sanren or

b) taken in by another 3rd party that is not the Jiangs or

c) grew up with his parents and they are alive

@corvinsart

6A)

Become Tomorrow by ShanaStoryteller (Not rated, 39k, wangxian, BSSR/LY, Alternate Universe, a story full of tragic pining gays, and one chaotic gremlin, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR’s disciple)

Going on charmingly by scribbet (T, 21k, WangXian, Teenage LWJ, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR’s Disciple, Genius WWX, Petty LWJ, Meddling LXC, What if LWJ didn’t have an excuse to instantly write WWX off?, Canon Divergence, JFM Doesn’t Adopt WWX, WWX minus canon sense of obligation, but still with an inability to shut up around LWJ, I swear LWJ’s inner voice was no quite so snarky when I started this, JZN is unfortunately present but only to lose face, LQR’s inconsistent adherence to the Lan clan precepts, writing the effective Lan education you would like to see in the world, Technically pre-relationship, but in the typical Wangxian way of them being in deep but just not acknowledging it yet, POV LWJ)

🔒crying like a fire in the sun by Reverie (cl410) (T, 10k, WangXian, SongXiao, BSSR/LY, Runaway WWX, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Die, rogue cultivator WWX, Angst, Post Cloud Recesses, Not YZY Friendly, Happy Ending, BSSR is WWX’s grandmother instead of grandmaster)

6B)

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NieLan, WangXian, SangNing, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family)

🔒 The Light That Fails to Dim by glowingreverie (T, 310k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mild Gore)

Frost moon's sun by RenaFair (T, 116k, WangXian, XXC/SL, Slow Build, Childhood Sweethearts, Angst and Feels, Fluff, Family Feels, Canon Divergence, Mentions of Smut, Attempt at Humor)

❤️ The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen by KouriArashi (T, 139k, wangxian, xiyao, chengqing, romance, angst w/ happy ending, hurt/comfort, politics, revenge, families of choice, pining)

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 488k, WangXian, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWX is a Niè, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, NMJ is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining, LWJ Has Feelings)

🔒 Life is Like a Stranger by through_shadows_falling (T, 69k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Child LWJ, Child WWX, First Meetings, Canon Divergence, Cute Kids, Orphan WWX, Autism Spectrum, Fix-It Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Canon, POV LWJ, Growing Up Together, WWX raised at Cloud Recesses based on the show, Fluff and Angst, haven't read the novel, Hurt/Comfort, Puberty, Growing Up, Coming Out, teenage angst, Wet Dream, Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers)

6C)

Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, WCZ/CS, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Family fluff)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

~*~

7. Hey,

Can you suggest some wangxian romance in mordern setting and lan wangji is like the owner or the ceo or similar position. Thank you @mayavsworld

Insert Coin Now for Extra Life by TriviasFolly (E, 201k, WangXian, Modern, A/B/O, Intersex Omegas, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Marriage contract au, Twitch Streamer WWX, fluff and smut, caring for other while sick, Possessive LWJ, Rare Male Omegas, Pack Dynamics, Sugar Baby vibes, Eventual Smut, Brief mention of lwj/others)

Work-Life Balance is Not A Thing by catbrainedschemes (E, 17k, WangXian, Modern AU, Workplace Relationship, Romantic Comedy, Idiots in Love, Oblivious WWX, Oblivious LWJ, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, but not that eventual, Pining, Dirty Talk)

🧡 Hello, IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? By overmountainandmeadow (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Office, Modern office AU, IT Director! LWJ, Graphic Designer! WWX, Father!LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Juniors as interns, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, Identity Porn, Rabbits, Cloud Recesses as a company, Happy Ending, Single Parent LWJ)

~*~

8. Can I get some Fluffy Wangxian? Or Fluffy Sangcheng? Just something soft and kind. @itsthenerdwonder

Mutually Assured Seduction by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Fluff, Humor, Sexual Humor, Sexual Content, CQL verse, some inspiration from the novel, Post-Canon)

🔒 Rumor Has It by Ulan (T, 4k, WangXian, Getting Together, Friends to LoversFluff, Canon Divergence, CQL-Verse, Fix-It)

You, Asleep and Dreaming by etymologyplayground (M, 9k, WangXian, LWJ POV, 5+1 Things, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Intimacy, Getting Together, Fluff, Post-Canon, Undressing, wwx’s ‘angry lwj’ kink)

the world is but a stage for the two of us by MandMandM (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Shameless WangXian)

the more things seem to change by littlebasketbun (G, 26k, LXC/NMJ, JC/NHS, WangXian, Modern, High School, Matchmaking, failed matchmaking, oblivious idiots in love)

~*~

9. ITMF request plz!

Can I have your fave happy or fluffy fics? The ones that always cheer you up. 🥺 Wangxian preferred but other pairs are ok.

🧡 A Study in Fluff by WeaverOfTheNight (T, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Ghost bunnies, Vet LWJ, Architect WWX, Kid LSZ, Domestic fluff, Modern with Magic)

The Bunnies and The Roomba: A Love Story by Nikki373 (T, 6k, wangxian, modern, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Siblings, Siblings Try and Are Trying, College/University, 1 if by phone; 2 if by text; 3 if by mouth, Kisses, Romance, Falling In Love, LXC is the eternal captain of the good ship Wangxian)

The stuffed bunny, the beautiful nephew, and other gifts from Lan Qiren by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 8k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff)

My Zhiji’s On Broadway by ScarlettStorm (E, 15k, wangxian, modern with cultivation, drunk LWJ, drunk shenanigans, getting together, first time, minor angst, major comedy, smut)

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Beekeeping AU, For reasons, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees, come for the flirting, stay for the bee facts, and the bee puns, kinkmeme fill, no actual kink)

Love Cats by so_shhy series (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Fluff, WWX is wet and adorable in a tree, With a Cat, LWJ had no chance, Don’t Try This At Home, First Dates, LWJ likes ducks, WWX does not like dogs, They just have a nice date, picnic dates, Falling In Love, LWJ is briefly less than graceful, there is a spider, but like barely there and totally harmless, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Office Party, LXC is a Good Big Brother, WWX is an excellent boyfriend, POV Outsider, they are in love the world is full of joy, Everything is Beautiful except for baby coots)

The first two parts of Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Oblivious, Biting, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian, POV Outsider, Engagement, Developing Relationship, Family Feels, Kissing, Romance, Feelings, Family, Love, Fix-It, Drunken Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Qishan Wen Indoctrination, Canon-Typical Violence, Fall of Lotus Pier, Sunshot Campaign, First Time, Possessive Behavior, Panic Attacks, Everybody Lives, Established Relationship, Weddings, Kid Fic, Wedding Night, Married Couple)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

soft-hearted by sarahyyy (G, 6k, wangxian, alternate universe, childhood friends, hurt/comfort, getting together, first kiss, wedding fluff)

If It's You by etymologyplayground (T, 1k, WangXian, Fluff, Reunions, Getting Together, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension)

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, [Podfic] Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets))

The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 70k, WangXian, Modern AU, Accidental Baby Acquisition,Kid Fic, explicit in much much later chapters, green card marriage (but not really), pining for your own husband, endless pining, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Nothing else bad or traumatic happens to the baby, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer, a Spanish version of the fic, Turkish translation, Translation into Русский availabl)

Once Upon A Time in Qinghe by paranoid_fridge (T, 22k, NHS & NMJ, wangxian, LXC & NMJ, post-canon, fix-it, angst, humor)

~*~

10. I wonder if there is some fic that focuses on Nie Huaisang and Lan Xinchen's relationship post canon. Mostly focused on their feelings and relationship together after the disaster. Lan Xichen was quite done with everything and everyone by the end and he certainly suspected (knew) that Huaisang manipulated him to kill JGY. I am really in the mood for some fic like this. It can be whatever pairing or ship or just friendship. No modern aus please.

~*~

11. itmf fics where jiang yanli realises she’s been enabling jiang cheng’s behaviour and his treatment of wei wuxian and actually does something about it? hopefully earlier on in the timeline but im not too particular about that.

thank you guys. i love your blog so much!

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) it's not the focus of the story but Jiang Yanli discusses the consequences of her relationship with her brothers near the end of chapter 7

do not wilt alone by Anonymous (T, 7k, JYL & WWX, Minor WangXian, LWJ is Sir Not Appearing in This Fic, Past Child Abuse, Homophobia, Homophobic JC, Bad Parent YZY, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Not JC Friendly, Character Study)

~*~

12. Hi! can you help me find rich wei wuxian fics? without the help of lan wangji or the jiangs! completed or regularly updated fics please 🥹

Thanks a lot

Catharsis by Starfell123 (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, mentions of abuse, Mentions of Disownment, Swearing, Friendship, Attempted Arranged Marriage, WWX has gone through therapy, Catharsis, supportive friends, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Genius WWX, Rich WWX, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, BAMF WWX)

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 108k, WangXian, Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) has the Lans help Wei Ying sell his inventions but the money earned is Wei Ying's.

Catharsis by Starfell123 (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, mentions of abuse, Mentions of Disownment, Swearing, Friendship, Attempted Arranged Marriage, WWX has gone through therapy, Catharsis, supportive friends, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Genius WWX, Rich WWX, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, BAMF WWX)

🧡 One Can Keep A Secret (If He Does Not Know It’s There) by H_Belle (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, Secret Identity, Identity Reveal, YLLZ WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Pining LWJ, POV WWX, Background Wangxian Getting Together, Jiangs are only mentioned in the passing, inspired by a tumblr post) It's a modern au crackfic, WWX doesn't know he's rich and famous.

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 887k, WangXian, WIP, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Getting Together, Supportive LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Supportive LXC, Canon Divergence, Inventor WWX, Possessive LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Fluff and Smut, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Angst, Sunshot Campaign, Not JFM Friendly, split into parts, Part 1 complete, Part 2 complete, Original Character(s)) The Lan facilitate the trade and commissions of WWX's items and inventions, but the proceeds from the sale of those inventions and talismans are put in WWX's personal vault.

~*~

13. Can I have extremely angsty fics? Something where wei wuxian is really going through it. Something like the fic ‘see me yesterday’. It can be modern au or canon. No cheating or rape please. Just him being cast out and trying to live with the horrors of what happened to him. Just absolutely devastating. Thank you for your help.

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

Sunder by naqaashi (E, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Sex, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Light BDSM, Fix-It, POV LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Light Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal Thoughts)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

🧡 decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

🔒 In search of safety by SomeDumbGuy (M, 22k, Major Character Death, NHS & WWX, JC & WWX, One-Sided WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Incomplete Fix-It, Unreliable Narrator, JZX Lives, distruction of the yin tiger seal, How the BEEP did they destory the yin iron?, Is it still hurt/comfort if it's comfort then hurt?, WWX needs a miracle but won’t get it, Blood and Gore)

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX confesses early on, But canon still happens, LWJ starts confessing after, but the tables have turned, Angst with a Happy Ending, LWJ rejects WWX, Then gets rejected by WWX after, "Get Lost", Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian)

Window of the Waking Mind by mrcformoso (M, 8k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, JC & WWX, Graphic depictions of violence, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Torture, Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Break, Flashbacks, Curses, Night Hunts, Suicide, Starvation, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, Cannibalism, Although it was forced by the situation to survive, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, lots of comfort, Soft LQR, Learning To Communicate, Zidian Spiritual Tool, JC Tries, Reaction)

~*~

14. Y'all are amazing! ITMF fics where ppl find out how deeply Lan Zhan feels about everything, especially Wei Ying. I read this one fic one time that had him fall into a sleep state from a curse and everyone saw lwj history in the form of visions and how deeply he felt about everything. looking for something similar @chenqingmagic

~*~

15. finally registered for an acc, ITMF a good locked fic! preferably feel good

🧡🔒Night of the Living History (an edutainment special!) by Aerlalaith (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Workplace Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Museums, living history, Some Plot, Slice of Life, Injury, a minor haunting)

🔒 in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by varnes (M, 13k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, [Podfic of] in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by exmanhater)

🔒 Bodega Love by cicer (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, bisexual disaster wwx, text conversations, reckless use of emojis, unrepentent goofiness, [Podfic of] Bodega Love by exmanhater, Fleur Rochard (fleurrochard), GoLBCollabs (GodOfLaundryBaskets), Gondolinpod (Gondolin), growlery, nicolasechs, Opalsong, RevolutionaryJo, Rhea314 (Rhea), [Podfic] Bodega Love by GinevraReads (GinevraFangirl), jennisaisquoi, kealdrakemna_collabs (kealdrakemna), KeriArentikaiMultipods (KeriArentikai), kisahawklin, mulberry_graceful, PandaReads (DrPanda99), shash_reads (sunkitten_shash))

🔒 you’ve ruined my life (by not being mine) by cicer (E, 132k, WangXian, Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Awkward Flirting, teenage romance, Shameless WWX, slowburn, Demisexuality, references to lqr’s a+ parenting, references to jfm’s a+ parenting, but we’re gonna get a happy ending ANYWAY, references to yzy’s a+ parenting, Background NMJ/LXC, hints of nmj/lxc/jgy, bottom LWJ in chapter 15)

🔒🧡 【那夏天的我們】 a stroke of fate by puddingcatbeans (G, 59k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, Slice of Life, Falling In Love, Summer, Barakamon AU, renowned musician lwj escapes to tiny village and falls in love with local farmer boy wwx, good times only, YouTuber WWX, Food)

🔒 (Planning the Day) To Meet You by Bettydice (E, 61k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Pining, Mutual Pining, WWX raises A-Yuàn, minimum angst, MAXIMUM GAY, Self-indulgent fluff, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, POV LWJ, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Intercrural Sex)

🔒 I Will Call You By Name by DisasterMages (T, 73k, WangXian, WWX raised by XXC, Canon Divergence, Family Feels)

I like most everything by cicer (all their fics are locked) but their fluffiest feel good fic is 🔒💖 blue-ribbon bunny by cicer (G, 15k, wangxian, modern, shapeshifting, supernatural elements, fluff & humor)

🔒 when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) for locked works -- I highly recommend the author travelingneuritis!! My favorite fic by them is plotty and drama but has a feel good ending (and amazing art)

~*~

16. hi, for the itmf, can i have any fics where wei ying is a sex worker? both canon compliant and modern au is good

KILF (Knits I’d Like To Fuck in) by ScarlettStorm (E, 168k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, sex worker WWX, Fashionista LWJ, in this house we support sex workers, Fluff and Smut, they’re horny and in love, mental health, therapy is good actually, Domestic Bliss, tender kink, Fiber Arts, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, switch rights, Nonbinary NHS, a soupçon of gender, get in losers we’re introspecting about queerness, Genderfluid Character, Gender Exploration, perhaps slightly more than a soupçon of gender, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, But They’re Working Through It, aggressive mutual caretaking)

🧡 All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, cultivators can recognize important people from previous lives, vaguely, this started out as a cute sugar fantasy and got just incredibly horny very fast, blame LWJ)

Hidden in the Clouds by Karmiya (E, 17k, WangXian, WIP, Teenage Wangxian, historical sex work)

Gifted by Deastar (E, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Courtesan WWX, Sex Work, but not between the main characters, Gusu Lan Sect, as in canon the real villain is sex work stigma, Supportive LQR)

~*~

17. Hi, can you please recommend some canon compliant fics preferably a/b/o. I prefer top lwj and bottom wwx. Thanks 🙏🏻 @bluepinks-world

~*~

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

[cr4zy-cycl0n3]

Yo! I'm doing a Heroes of Olympus rewrite!

I'm not a huge fan of how some scenes go in canon and how the characters esp the gods are handled in Hoo, and after reading one too many rewrite/AU fics, I've decided fuck it, imma make my own.

I'm changing quite a few things, like:

- making Piper's memories not be tampered with and as a result be way closer to Leo (credit to Heroes of Juno by @queenjunothegreat for this idea!)

- MOTHERLY HERA/JUNO WHO PSEUDO-ADOPTS JASON FTW also parental Lupa but that'll be more apparent in a Jason prequel/sequel(depends on how I wanna format it) I’ll write after TLH is done

- slowburn valgrace instead of comphet jiper

- Leo and Piper QPR(+Jason when Piper stops being his #1 opp). Jasipereo ftw babyyy

- the whole series is just gonna have a good deal of focus on the Lost Trio. I'm not gonna shaft anyone ofc but my favorite punching bags characters are just gonna get extra love :3

- Jason's gonna be considerably more feral cuz CMON MAN WAS RAISED BY WOLVES(this is more prominent in the later books cuz in TLH he was alr feral, going at 2 giants with his BARE ASS HANDS)

- Jason has more bite cuz DAMMIT HE DESERVES TO BE ANGRY/BITTER AND CLAP BACK. HIS LIFE IS SHIT, LET MY BRO BE MAD

- more exploration into Jason's character cuz man was shafted so hard :(

- exploration of characters' powers in general, def buffing the Big Three kids to be as strong as Percy cuz holy cow he's OP. I love Percy and his OP-ness, but the other Big Three kids should be just as OP

- Zeus is the God of Justice, which we don't see much of in PJO's characterization of him, but Jupiter is Roman and hence is much more strict in the RRverse, so consequently I think his domain of law and order is more central to Jupiter than his greek counterpart, so I'd like to explore Jason having powers related to that and being an absolute powerhouse when it comes to debates and politics despite hating them

- characterizing the Gods differently from canon as I'm a Hellenist and writing them as they are in canon makes me like. Kinda uncomfortable. I will be using mythic literalism as that is what PJO/HoO's based on and I'm not rewriting the very foundations of the series, so they will still have committed the things they did in mythology, though I'm keeping them largely unaltered from the Og greek mythos and unsanitized as this isn't intended for a young audience like PJO is. Their behavior won't be exactly like their depictions in myths nor how they actually are irl, it's a mix of both(Ex: Zeus has still done heinous shit so he won't be as great as he is irl, but he isn't supremely petty and bitchy like he is in PJO.). This uhh. Will probably mean that PJO events would go differently which would influence HOO but if I think about that too much I'm gonna wanna do a PJO rewrite too and akbhdhd so just imagine that everything that goes on in PJO goes as canon (for now at least) for some reason or another.

- Octavian and Jason are were best friends cuz I said so. This change is inspired by To Storm and Fire(a Heroes of Olympus rewrite) which I am in LOVE with. The antagonistic side characters(like Drew and Octavian) got very little development or character exploration so l'm definitely giving them that in my rewrite!

- The Seven feel and are much closer together

- delving more into the sevens' trauma pre-camp, might also do a one/two shot for each of them. Jason’s a given cuz I’m writing a whole ass fic or even series dedicated to his past, Leo and Piper definitely, probably also Hazel and Annabeth, not sure on Percy and Frank cuz for Frank I’m def going into the trauma that comes with growing up in an Asian household but don’t have too many ideas on how to execute that, and for Percy I don’t have all that many ideas in general outside of the little we know in PJO(I used to think we knew a lot but honestly, we really don’t? Like we know Poseidon left, Sally had to work a lot, Gabe sucks, and he got kicked out of 6 six schools in 6 years and the reasons, but we don’t have any concrete details. There might be more in HoH, I haven’t read it yet so lmk if there is). Open to any ideas for this!

- camp is. Tense. It's been only a few months since the war, grief is still fresh, and Jason being tall, blonde, and blue-eyed with a scar ain't helping 💀 some people think Silena was a hero, others think she was a villain, some people sympathized with Luke, others despised him, there's a lotta differing views.

I have loads more ideas that I won't get into here cuz the post'll get way too long, but l'd love to hear what you guys think! What scenes/characterizations should I change? What topics would you like to see handled differently? What should I add? I'm open to any and all suggestions!

Currently outlining TLH, will start posting it on my ao3 once I have the first chapter and 4-5 buffer ones written so I'll prolly start posting it in a month or two? Idk, depends on my workload irl and if I get hit by writer’s block. Maybe less, maybe more, who knows. I'll be writing a bunch of shorter stories for specific moments, time between books, and namely a prequel/tih sequel focusing on Jason's past and who he was before Hera wiped his memory. Open to any suggestions for additional works too. Feel free to drop any questions and suggestions bout the rewrite here or in my ask box!

[ironunderstands]

I’m having some Aventio thoughts.. :3

Possessive Aventurine urghhh Aventurine who won’t let Ratio out of his sight for more than 10 minutes when they are out together out of fear, Aventurine who is terrified he will lose someone else he loves and will hold Ratio’s hand at any opportunity he gets, Aventurine who mildly and vaguely threatens anyone who so much as looks at Ratio badly…. AAAAAAAAA

Like usually I don’t enjoy the “you’re mine” kinda trope/mindset, but Aventurine has lost practically everything and everyone close to him so I can see him being extremely, well, possessive, of Ratio. However he would still obviously respect the others boundaries (especially due to his trauma), it’s just I can see him keeping Ratio as close as he possibly can.

I think that’s why I like writing fics where Aventurine is rescuing/saving/protecting/etc Ratio because he needs the ability to care for someone like that just as much as Ratio needs the ability to just let go and be vulnerable

Like Ratio already spends all his time trying to help others so having someone else do it for him is a welcome change, and Aventurine constantly has all eyes on him, so not having to be the center of attention for once is freeing..

..which is also why I probably prefer dom aven/sub ratio when it comes to nsfw/suggestive content of them. It’s more interesting than the alternatives to me because it’s a dynamic that would benefit both of them and help work out their issues in canon. Not saying it’s some magic fix it or something but yeah I think Ratio needs to give up his control sometimes and Aventurine needs to gain some. I feel like people downplay how sex can be used to explore character dynamics and I know this is kinda off course for what I usually write/talk about but I just haven’t seen anyone discuss it so I thought it was worth mentioning.

Moving onwards, I really love writing Ratio when he’s not in a normal state of mind. Drunk, injured, sleepy, a fucking owl (IM WORKING ON THE FIC THANK YOU @aurae-rori FOR HELPING ME BETA ITS AT 6.3/~10k WORDS IM GONNA TRY AND FINISH IT SOON I PROMISE), etc.

Whatever one of these you decide to inflict upon Ratio allows for some really interesting characterization to be enabled, because well, the man’s a tsundere, and it’s kinda hard for him to keep that up when he doesn’t have the capacity to. Honestly I view his tsundere-ness as being half voluntary/a choice and half just the way he is because he’s not very good at expressing his emotions or dealing with other people’s emotions.

However if I were to say, make him drunk, a good portion of that barrier breaks and Ratio’s true self gets exposed, and he nor Aventurine nor anyone really know how to deal with that. It’s so much fun to just put a character out of their element and see what they do next, and I think messing with Ratio’s mental state is the epitome of that, because now he has to confront the fact that he IS hiding parts of himself, and that’s scary (in a good way).

I also think Aventurine dealing with the fact that someone just genuinely lives him but is too afraid to really show it would be compelling. Would he blame himself? Would he dig into it and accidentally cross Ratio’s boundaries, then feel horrible about it? Would he doubt that it’s really real until it becomes transparently clear that Ratio does love him? Oh the possibilities..

Would he see Ratio being kind to someone in a similar way that Ratio is to him and get jealous? Would he worry that maybe he isn’t special to him and is just selfishly imagining everything?

They make me insane.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Cultural Differences: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have cultural differences! Check under the cut for 10 fics that explore the differences in Caleb and Essek's cultures and how it affects their relationship, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Courting of the Caleb by VexedVixen (6884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Beau realizes Essek is courting Caleb before Caleb does.

Reccer says: Good world building, it’s cute, and plenty of both Caleb and Essek being flustered!

The Secret Romance of Essek Thelyss by Cardinal_Daughter (18629, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

All Essek wants is to celebrate his and Caleb's anniversary and present him with a very special gift. Naturally, nothing goes quite as planned.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Double Dip by Defiler_Wyrm (622, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb’s Empire table manners threaten to ruin a perfectly pleasant dinner. (He’s going to get away with it, the little shit.)

Reccer says: Just a saucy little slice of life, pun intended.

Fine Things by Defiler_Wyrm (1296, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is accustomed to luxury on a scale that Caleb finds baffling and troublesome. Sometimes, though, he has a point.

Reccer says: This is a fic about culture clash in terms of class, and about poverty trauma, handled gently. I tend to think that the class disparity between Caleb and Essek must be a touchier thing to navigate than the broader Empire vs. Dynasty ones, and that's exactly what this fic is about.

Love Letters to be Tossed in the Fire by Anonymous (61367, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek get to know each other through a series of letters

Reccer says: This fic is creatively and beautifully written. I love the different ways the letters are sent. The two wizards learn about each other and their different cultures through the course of this fic, especially at the end.

Loose Translation by owlaholic68 (58379, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Due to an incredible comedy of errors on the part of the Cerberus Assembly, what is thought to be a pesky bureaucratic for one meddlesome Caleb Widogast, turns out to be a powerful political alliance and symbol of peace and unity between the Dynasty and Empire… through the marriage of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss and Caleb Widogast. Canon compliant until episode 141.

Reccer says: This is one of my all time favorite fics! The author does an incredible job at writing the political intrigue, manages a beautiful balance of the fluffiest fluff you could ever imagine with an undercurrent of yearning and angsty misunderstanding, all the while exploring the worldbuilding of the Kryn Dynasty in a way that is soso tasty. Truly, this is an addicting read that had me screaming, kicking my feet, and hyping up the characters to “go get his ass!!” all throughout.

Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb watches Essek work, and learns a little about the role of lace making to the Kryn dens.

Reccer says: The author does a great job at describing the physical motions of tatting, I felt like I could see it and understand what was happening despite have very little understanding of the craft- this really added to the visuals of the fic.

The following three fics each received two recs!

of blossoming hearts and glittering souls by quinn_of_aebradore (77995, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek realize they've caught the Feelings, and try to figure out how to propose to each other, with each other's different cultural customs

Reccer 1 says: It's so soft and sweet, it's a lovely read <3 Reccer 2 says: This fic is so sweet. It's so sweet. It pulls no punches when it comes to expressing emotion and revolves around the entire proposal, engagement, and marriage/lovebinding procedures with such depth and care. Read it and weep (the happiest of tears)!

but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An already together Caleb and Essek play at Dynasty courting rituals, but they keep their hands off each other long enough to play the game?

Reccer 1 says: I’m gonna be so straight forward this fic is SUPER hot. There is a phenomenal scene with gloves, and I will say nothing more. I really enjoy the cultural differences as seen through courting thing, especially when theres some misunderstandings about the levels of intimacy something might imply sprinkled in- and this definitely has that! Reccer 2 says: It has a delightful build up with a very rewarding and steamy pay off!

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, The fic is tagged with graphic depictions of violence, the scene written is about canon typical levels of violence

The many times Essek and Caleb accidentally court one another by Kryn or Blumenthal traditions and when they finally do it on purpose!

Reccer 1 says: Not only is it very cute, the world building is also very smart. The Blumenthal traditions that are made up by the author feel very in the spirit of what would be considered romantic to the way Caleb grew up. They clearly took time to flesh out his background and folk traditions just as much as they do Essek’s high class courting etiquette, which is a true treat! Reccer 2 says: It's wonderfully written and descriptive! Also just very funny and sweet with lots of good pining.

Want more fics that explore cultural differerences? Check out our previous rec list on this subject!

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring getting nerdy about magic! Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[aerialflight]

fic rec list (in other words, i need a list for my neurotic brain and its obsessions, f me)

Yeah, everything said above. also, the deadpool and wolverine brainrot is real. i only watched it a week ago. nfeiwofpewafe.

-

[Deadpool and Wolverine] (i'm still desperately searching for more. i just need a list for the ones that won't leave me alone fyufivuohbjl)

How To Pay For Rent 💸 by fictionfeast

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson (i still can't believe this is the ship name, they actually put worst wolverine as a specification. it's such a unique dynamic and relationship that we NEED that differentiation. amazing.)

To pay for rent, Logan and Wade take odd jobs on Craigslist.

(listen, LISTEN. just from the fact craiglist is involved, you KNOW it's gonna be off the walls crack and hilarity. i swear, this fic went in directions i never in a million years would've predicted, it's amazing. the voices for these characters are impeccable and i, too, would like to shake deadpool like a snowglobe so some goddamn honestly will barf out. logan, you have my sympathies. please read, i'm literally going insane.)

shattered glass by anarkissed

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

At first, Wade is pretty sure it all starts with the bullet- the one Logan had held in his teeth and spit out like it was a prize. Or maybe it starts in the Honda Odyssey. Or maybe it had started way back with Logan's smile. That first sardonic one when they'd met. Or maybe it's the way Logan is always staring at him. Or maybe- "I think you're enjoying this too much." "Maybe you're not enjoying it enough." It’s more bite than kiss, more claim than caress, but it’s their mouths connecting all the same, and Wade gasps, hoarsely, as blood wells up from his lips and Logan tongues it away like it’s his god-given right. Oh, oh oh, oh- he’s crazy. He’s so crazy. Wade has never wanted anyone so badly in his entire life. Wade tries to figure out where whatever he has with Logan started. (And he's kind of hoping he never has to see how it ends.)

Part 1 of dying engine (poolverine/deadclaws)

(i'm not fucking kidding when i say this is my favorite d&w fic. i want to gnaw this in my mouth and develop vampire canines as i sharpen them every fucking reread. there are passages here that i reread like a fucking lunatic and i use the find in page option for the word 'crazy' just so i can go to my favorite part. and the fact there's a freaking part 2? that has logan's pov in it??? and it makes me feel just as unhinged??? it makes me want to go apeshit. please read. for the love of god.)

how easy you are to need by Patricia_Sage

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Wade smiles when the doctor opens the door. "Hi, we have a vet appointment at 2:00. Please tell me he doesn't have rabies because I have been scratched and bitten plenty." *** Logan gets treatment for adamantium poisoning. Wade helps.

Part 2 of he has risen, babygirl

(i fucking CACKLED reading this, omfg. also, wade's version of helping is both sweet and freaking hilarious, i love this idiot so much. and this fic! addresses the fact logan probably has ptsd medical trauma and i love that. it's hardly ever addressed and i appreciate how it's shown here. also, it's a series! part 1 is great too, you don't need to read it to understand part 2 though, dw.)

Void by RovingOtter

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

After a week without contact, Logan leaves Wade a weird voicemail.

(i'm religiously checking in on this for updates. i know the summary doesn't say anything, so i'll say it here. logan becomes aware of the fourth wall and it's so fascinating??? a genuine look on what happens if the wolverine becomes aware that he's a fictional character and the exploration of that premise here is *chefs kiss* delicious. and how wade reacts to it and how they both deal with the aftermath of this development is so interesting and god, i NEED to know how this fic will go. genuinely one of those fics that have a premise i've never thought about before and it's GLORIOUS!)

where soul meets body by Edgebug

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

"I'll probably see you around?" "Probably not," Logan says, something in his spine still shaking even now, and Wade looks at him with those huge dark eyes that look--hurt, maybe, heartbroken, and Logan knows he has to get up and leave before he can't. Each step is agony increasing, the thing in his spine trembling ever-harder and then Wade calls his name and he stops, turns, sees those eyes again; pleading, desperate. A rush of emotion slams into his hindbrain, it feels half foreign and half his own; don't do this can't do this without you please stay please stay stay stay stay let me stay stay stay "Come home with me," Wade blurts out, and Logan finds that he's taken steps toward Wade without realizing it, closing the yawning gap between them, and the thing in his spine relaxes just a little. "Okay," he says. (In which something very interesting happens underneath the Time Ripper, and Wade and Logan deal with the aftermath.)

(they vulcan mind melded and now can't live without the other. i just love this author's writing and i read every one of their d&w fics. i'm in love with their characterization of not just d&w but the rest of the cast as well! and the banter and genuinely fun interactions between d&w has me kicking my feet and giggling like a school girl. please read, i totally recommend this fic and the rest of the author's other fics XD)

your fool in this game for two by abillionstars

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

“Have you ever lived with anyone before?” At Wade’s question, Logan pauses to think. Scratches his balls for a second, and says, “I lived at Xavier’s school for a while, before I left. Lived in a clapboard boarding house about seventy years back. A couple of times, I slept in a park with other people nearby. Do those count?” “That was a rhetorical question,” says Wade. “Some might even call it an accusatory one. Mostly because—dude. I’m a fucking mess. But you’re even worse.” (two loser loners, falling in love.)

(this is crack. the peak of romance, the very height of big squishy feelings. it's perfect. god, i am utterly trash for this fic, it's so fucking good fnewiofpew)

Love You All Over by FinelyDressedSpacemen

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

The bad guys have love spells now, apparently. Logan gets nailed. Wade tries not to. With great power over your sexiest friend comes great emotional responsibility.

(where wade tries his best to respect logan and logan makes this, so freaking hard for him lmao. lovesick logan is truly the most flirty version of wolverine and it's incredible. it's like if hugh jackman himself is trying to romance the shit out of you. wade really is the stronger person, incredible. anyway, this was a joy to read and if you like musicals, this is definitely for you <3)

I'm the worst at what I do by Thestarvedghost

Ship: Logan | Worst Wolverine/Wade Wilson

Logan finds out from Wade after everything is said and done, universes saved and friends met, that most hims across the multiverse have some sort of memory issue, one way or another. Logan wishes he was that fucking lucky. He remembers it all.

Part 1 of No end and no beginning

(i recommend this entire series, the progression on d&w's relationship has me singing! it's so sweet and fluffy! well, as fluffy as 2 murderous, self-hating bastards can be anyway lol.)

-

[Dimension 20] (Fantasy High, A Court of Fey and Flowers, A Crown of Candy)

interchange by fangirl_squee

Fandom: Fantasy High

Oh, the Bad Kids? Yeah, in that group they have [checks notes] a pirate cleric, a goblin bard, a Helioic fighter, an elven barbarian, a tiefling rogue, and a half-orc wizard.

(it's so interesting how different yet the same the bad kids are even with their class changes. man, the idea of fabian being a freaking cleric still makes me want to cackle. he'd be so much more Exasperated by the bad kids, especially freshman fabian X'D. also barbarian adaine has my whole fucking heart.)

yeah you held me the whole way through, when i couldn’t say the words like you by zedif_y

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster

When Fabian is ten, his Papa tells him the story of how he married his mother. It’s a gory tale, one that involves a cut eye and bodies hitting the deck. He tells Fabian of a love that sent him to his knees, that leads a man like him– fearsome and powerful, the greatest pirate to ever live– to start a family. A love that gave him Fabian. --- A study on Fabian, grief, and, ultimately— love.

(an exploration on fabian's idea of what love is. god, it's so well written. i love this fic and absolutely recommend it! <3)

white knuckles by thathastu

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ships: Fabian/everyone (but all unrequited)

His ex-fling’s little sister. Two people in committed relationships who also happen to be in the same mega famous rock band. A heartbroken lesbian who doesn’t want to be involved with men in any way. And Riz fucking Gukgak. Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster, finds himself falling for all of his friends.

(seeing the bad kids through fabian's eyes made me realize why the bad kids would be considered attractive to people who know them! it's so sweet how much fabian cares and pays attention to them and the constant feeling of 'oh no oh no' both made me want to laugh and coo at him lmao)

life in a wallflower garden with my friends by sickoflosiingsoulmates for lesbiansweetflips

Fandom: Fantasy High

Ship: Ayda Aguefort/Figueroth Faeth

This is what Ayda has spent her entire life searching after. This is what she built the friendship section in the library in hopes of, what she spent long, lonely nights dreaming of. A night with a friend, a true friend, laughing and talking about nothing in particular. [or, ayda finds friends in the bad kids]

(ayda has friends! ayda has frieeenndss!! i'm so so in love with her and this fic is so fluffy and sweet! gah, instant shot of endorphins, guarantee!)

allies and fealty, or, on finding the first knight of the new Court of Craft by fangirl_squee

Fandom: A Court of Fey and Flowers

Ship: Binx Choppley/Captain K. P. Hob

The enemy of my enemy is kind of my friend. Or something.

(i'm always a sucker for rare pairs and man, this is something i didn't even know i wanted. i love how slowly and carefully they build trust in each other, especially binx who is so secretive and initiated this relationship in the first place. by the end, i completely bought this ship and the potential for it.)

I've walked a fragile line and I've fallen down by jadeandquartz

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Anger is burning in Lapin’s chest. It is bitter, and it is bloody, and it shines brighter than any Bulb the church might care to invent. Normally, he leaves his emotions be. He cannot afford to let feelings drive him forwards. Remaining logical is the only safe way to play the game of politics - and if you do not play it safe, you die. And if you die, then what was the point? But nothing about their predicament is normal. So, fuck playing the game safely. Fuck that. The world will not play safe with the lives of those he loves. *** In which Belizabeth Brassica is looking for a heretic, and Lapin confesses to his apostasy to protect the House of Rocks.

(one of the first crown of candy fics i read and i never looked back. lapin survive stories makes me so feral and god i love this cantankerous bunny so so much fnewiofewp)

to leave this all behind (halo round his head) by grumpyhedgehogs

Fandom: A Crown of Candy

Lapin blinks slowly at Brassica as she steps up to the bars of his cell, the guards splitting around her like so much water over a stone. He inclines his head, trying for regal and probably failing. “Heretic.” Her voice grates against his eardrums. “You have awakened.” “Zealot. You haven’t killed me.” Lapin replies, dry.

(another, much longer fic where lapin survives and i'm so in love with how much detail and fantastic characterization this fic has, not just for lapin but for the whole cast! the day i stop loving the lapin survives trope is the day i die.)

-

[The Terror] (yeah, i know, extremely random, and yet here we are. it's due to this animatic here that i was introduced to this show in the first place. def recommend both the show and this artist *thumbs up*)

I'll be Homeward Bound in Time by clandestinegardenias

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Back in the Arctic, stuffed two to a sleeping sack and trying to keep each other alert, he and James used to name every good type of thing they would eat when they got back, knowing–as they thought–the time would never come. 'Cream puffs', James had sighed one frigid night in a partial feverish delirium. Francis could hardly see him but for the lightest starlight, yet he had heard the smile evident in his voice all the same. That close, he had nearly felt it. --- Hailed as heroes on their miraculous return to England, Francis and James fail to cope, but nonetheless manage to fall together.

(i love how warm they are here, how clearly these two depend on one another and find joy despite the fact london is trying it's best to stamp out this closeness. post-rescue is always such an interesting time where they get to reflect and be traumatized by what happened in the arctic and the lack of understanding that is found when they go home. it's done so well here and man, i just love these two together. the ship that sails their ships lmao)

death is a sailing ship by Maleann

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

"James had died knowing that his heart, the core of his very being that no biographer would ever know, would carry on in Francis Crozier. Would be protected, cherished even, because Francis deemed him worthy of such care. Oh, how he had loved Francis then. He had been at peace with this being his last living thought. It’s his only thought now. In this undead life, his love has nowhere to go."  ___ James Fitzjames wakes up in the Afterlife. It looks strangely similar to his cabin on Erebus. (Updated with amazing artwork by Marella!)

(the fic is so!! kind!!! to all its characters! and fitzjames is in full form here, i love how it's him that's trying so hard to take care of his men, despite sir john and his lack of empathy. to have fitzjames damn what is proper and trying to do his best as always even in the freaking afterlife, god. you can just see how much fitzjames changed from the beginning of the show to his end in this fic. how all the characters changed, really. every character here is given room to heal and face the consequences of their actions and there were moments that it seriously made me cry. this is my fave fic in this entire list, it just does an amazing job of showing compassion to all its characters and i love it.)

there but for the grace of- by TheGoodDoctor

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

“I wish you would stop being such a martyr,” a languid voice says quietly, drawling as well as a man can with two missing molars and a glassy, bloodshot eye, leaking all the while from open chest wounds. Francis is rather impressed with his dedication to the role, somewhere under the roil of fury and exhaustion. “You know as well as I do that you could have this bed sometimes, if it didn’t suit you to stomp about with blacked eyes and a put-upon expression.” “And what should we do with you all the while, Commander,” he says, all on a great sigh, “wrap you in sailcloth already? Come, man, you’re either well enough to cease bleeding on my sheets or too ill to get out of them, you can’t have it both ways.” “Francis,” Ross began, “I did not undertake to accept the position of second on Franklin’s expedition for you, as you asked.”

(this fic scratched a brain itch i didn't even know i had. it's so interesting to think about, the idea of crozier not being on the expedition and instead being the person who rescues them instead. fitzjames and crozier actually developing a relationship based on this premise, without the shared trauma, is so so intriguing to me and i wish i had more of this. also, the fact crozier is so much more mentally healthier than canon due to ross makes me want to laugh and cry. god, if only.)

out of the sea came he, still hid in mist by dazydaisy for shortcrust

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

You make bargains you cannot keep. You make promises you plan to break. You give things that are not yours to give.

(a haunting, magical realism fic that feels like a gothic fairy tale. exactly my kind of fic! and if it's yours? definitely a good read *thumbs up*)

At Civil Twilight by lieutenant_iceberg

“Well,” said Francis. “Jopson, will you see what you can do with this three-year-old peace offering? A cup for each of us, and one for you.” “Sir,” said Jopson, collecting one of the bags. “You’ll be up all night if you take coffee now.” “I’ll be up all night anyway. Go, Jopson, go.” When he was gone, Francis got up from the table, and they stared into the depths of the bag together. Finally, Francis cleared his throat and said, “All right, then, James. How have you fared since I hit you?” A few days after Carnivale, Crozier and Fitzjames make a faltering attempt to talk things over.

Part 1 of Civil Twilight

(oooh, the very start of their friendship! how to make peace when their entire relationship is based on animosity and contempt! the dialogue and characterization of these two in this series is so good and i absolutely recommend!)

rebuilding by wildcard_47 for 20thcenturyvole

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Once they stepped ashore, a fey dark-haired man burst through the crowd a few heads down from Jane Franklin. When Fitzjames saw his brother, he startled, and when Will surged forward in the first press of the crowds around the returned—elfin face wet with tears as he swept James into a fierce embrace—only then did Fitzjames release his grip on Francis’s arm. Only then did Francis feel as if he could step away at last. Written for the 2023 Fall Fitzier Exchange, for the prompt: "Post-canon AU where, once they get home, Crozier and Fitzjames are riddled with guilt and trauma, and deal with their feelings by throwing themselves into caring for the surviving men..."

(i'm always so fascinated by post-rescue stories that actually deal with the aftermath, the logistics of it all. how the characters struggle to handle their own traumas, how they help one another through their experiences, all of it. and how both crozier and fitzjames step up for their men even now, even when they're no longer captains in the arctic and have to deal with london and all it's trappings. this fic handles all that so very well, i love it <3)

As Bullet Speaks to Gun by pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Thomas Jopson/Edward Little

Against all odds, they are rescued. Cornelius Hickey is court-martialed for his mutiny, and the whole mess of the expedition is unfurled in front of the public. With their names being dragged through the mud, Francis Crozier and James Fitzjames reach out to each other. Meanwhile, Thomas Jopson seeks revenge for what he believes is his captain's betrayal, and Edward Little tries to come to terms with the truth.

(yes!! edward little my beloved gets to shine here! and jopson is so bitter and angry and messy, it's great! again, i love fics that tackle what would happen post-rescue and how london would react to it. the trials, both actual and mental, they have to face in order to move on and be happy (oh please oh please) is handled expertly and i love it! crozier/fitzjames ship is a little more background in this fic compared to jopson/little, but honestly? i'm so sucked into the latter ship that it doesn't matter. both ships are written very well here and again, my beloved edward little is glorious in this fic and i love it! you go edward! woohoo!!!)

Principles of Magnetism (a Comedy of Manners) by acaramelmacchiato

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

The one where they're married but it's still Victorian times and also it's an accident.

(you don't understand, this fic is so fucking funny. it's so goddamn victorian and sir john is so jane-austen-silly-characters coded. i want to both shake his hand for making this premise happen in the first place, and punch him in his punchable face. and crozier is perfectly characterized here, i can visually picture his disgruntled expressions so clearly in my mind, it's incredible.)

Thaw by orphan_account

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Past Captain Francis Crozier/Sophia Cracroft

Courteous, charming Fitzjames, whittled down to maturity by the North, and being there, very obviously, not as Francis's right-hand man or as his comrade, but as his mate; a soulmate. Sophia had no need to look at Francis’s face, at the discoloration that would have turned one of his blue eyes into the good-coffee brown of Fitzjames's, to know it, so blatant and luminous a thing it was.

Part 1 of A Victorian Soulmate AU

(very interesting fic where one can choose their soulmates, choose who they want to bond with for life. and the fact it's sophia's pov and how she deals with this fact is handled so carefully and full of goodwill. it makes me want to applaud. i love how clear it is that they're grown ass adults willing to discuss and make peace with one another because they're all genuinely good people who want happiness both for others and themselves. this fic feels like a flower that you hold in your hands to admire it's beauty and delicacy.)

And It Is Now, And It Is Here by 20thcenturyvole, pointyshades

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames

Before the ships are trapped in the ice, James Fitzjames sees a terrible vision of the future, a harbinger of his own death. Before the ships are trapped in the ice, Francis Crozier is visited by a tender apparition, an angel wearing James Fitzjames' face. They are both seeing the same vision. Whether they can heed its warning is another matter entirely.

(when the ghost of your future haunts you, you better believe it changes to the plot. i love the dichotomy of how crozier and fitzjames reacts to ghost fitzjames! it's so interesting and i was on the edge of my seat the entire time i read this. if you want to know how it all ends, please read! i promise this fic is a ride you want to get on.)

Waistcoats! or, Life Before the Passage by sadsparties

Ship: Francis Crozier/James Fitzjames, Lady Ann Ross/Sir James Clark Ross, Lt Henry T. D. Le Vesconte/Original Character

Commander James Fitzjames of the Royal Navy is the Best Man that a best friend could ever ask for. A chance meeting forces him to share his arctic expedition duties with one Captain Francis R. M. Crozier, and perhaps other duties as well.

(listen, the terror is a horror show and i both want and need lighthearted fics in order to deal with all the horrors lol. but seriously, this fic was genuinely just fun to read and i love the banter and slowly developing friendship and relationship between crozier and fitzjames! truly the romantic comedy fic in this fandom. XD)

[menaceoffandoms]

LMK analysis rant: Mei

I said I was gonna do this and I'm keeping to my word! The only thing that may stop me is my procrastinating... and the fic I'm slowly writing but uhhhhh-

ANYWAY- We're here to talk about Mei, our favourite white horse dragon pepper girl!

Mei stands out as the most different from her inspiration, something the writers perfectly portray in the yellow-robed demon episode of s4, which is likely to do with how little they had to go off of. Despite being one of the pilgrims in jttw, Ao Lie dose very little in the novel. His most notable chapters being when he's introduced and when the group faces the yellow-robed demon, which is why we met him in that memory in the scroll. Combined with my belief that Mei isn't a reincarnation of Ao Lie -- just his descendent -- means that Mei is one of the most unique characters in the entire show.

There's just less source material for her to draw from, it let's the writers have more fun and do more things. It's not that they don't make the others characters unique -- they like to play very fast and loose with things over all -- but Mei feel like her own complete and original character. She's inspired by Ao Lie in the same way Mk is inspired by Monkie King basically and she all the better for it.

Being the female lead (isn't it interesting how most of the female characters in this show are villans?), Mei is a refreshingly strong, confident girl who begins the show as the most powerful cast member. Being a descendent of the great dragon gives her amazing powers that no other cast members have, a birth right that leads to her being the most protective of her friends and the first to help out in any fight.

What she has in power, however, she lacks in experience. Mei has no mentor -- other than her parents, but I believe its safe to assume they weren't very focused on teaching her combat -- which leads her to trust her gut more, rush into things and learn through observation, like when she mimics what her great x1000 uncle did in s3.

Overall Mei is an excitable, energetic and loving person with a "You only live once" kinda attitude, for lack of a better explanation. Even still, she has her own insecurities and flaws which make her all the more interesting. Due to the shows run time, Mei and many of the other main characters don't really get explored as much as Mk, however what we do see of these struggles and fears is incredibly interesting even on a surface level.

Her tendency to rush head first into danger without first examining the situation or creating a plan, truthfully, tends to work out for her, but it can't always. It's something shown perfectly in s4, when Mei is the only member of the group to not get a star from Master Subohdi, however what a lot of people seem to miss is how Mei actually did earn that star eventually.

When they leave the temple and head to the celestial realm to try and stop Azure, Mei leads them there with no plan at all. As such, they fail and need to be saved by Mk. Faced with proof of Subohdi's criticism, Mei makes the more important amendment to Mk's plan in the s4 special. I don't think we've even seen Mei make a serious plan until this point, which feeds back in to another one of her flaws: being unable to take things seriously.

This isn't something I see said about Mei often, but when watching her character I think it's externally obvious. Don't get me wrong, Mei can be serious, but usually only in moments of vulnerability or high stress. For example: when talking with her pearents, after she gained the Samahdi fire and whilst imprisoned by the Yellow-robed demon.

I think this flaw is Mei's own version of Mk playing dumb. They both behave this way to lessen the emotional impact of serious things, to protect themselves and help those around them deal with trauma or difficult topics. Mei and Mk really are two sides of the same coin and I'd love for them to do more with that in the show.

Going back to Mei's parents, one of her biggest struggles is reconciling who she is with who she's meant to be. She is a noble dragon, a descendent of the great dragon of the West Sea and practically the successor to Ao Lie. It's a lot to live up to and -- evident in episode 3 of season 1; Welcome home -- she doesn't believe she dose.

Mei is confident in her abilities, she's sure of her strength and quick to help those around her, but in the face of her legacy she stands uncertain. It's another thing her and Mk have in common, though in vastly different flavours, and it's interesting how this legacy colours Mei as a character.

She wields the dragon blade, proving herself as a worthy part of her family and gaining the approval of her parents, however the stark difference between her and the rest of her clan is more blatant than ever. We see this perfectly in season 3 when they visit the great Dragon of the East Sea, Mei being put into fancy clothes she instantly ruins in order to have a place to hold her sword. She fights against her uncle, fights against her family, because she knows they'll never understand her. But even still, she knows she's still one of them and she's so proud to be.

Becoming the vessel of the Samahdi fire is only more proof of Mei's legacy and connection to her family. It gives her a moment of pure vulnerability where she vents her frustrations and fears before rushing away, wanting nothing more than to protect the people she cares about.

When Red Son finds her she's still serious, but even with just a basic understanding of the fire within her Mei falls back to her normal nature; a silly excitable girl not taking things seriously. We see this after Red Son attacks her with the spears and when she's eating later on, but even if her attitude doesn't show it, she's still listening and taking the training seriously. She just needs to be silly so she won't freak out again.

Since we're on the topic of the Samahdi fire, I think most people can agree that the way it was handled post s3 was very poor. With only one mention of it in s4, by Master Subohdi no less, I assumed that the fire had been resealed, this time correctly. Something that dangerous should be locked up, even if a capable wielder is around. It would also prevent power creep and stop the show from having another Wukong predicament, by which I mean a character so powerful they need to find a way to prevent them from trivialising whatever threat they have to face in the plot. Wukong will get his own post soon don't you worry...

Instead, we learn in s5 that Mei still has the fire, she just kinda forgot? She learned to fully master it when breaking out of LBDs mech, so since the fire was no longer a raging uncontrollable inferno she just didn't realise it was still there... for an entire season. Yeah it feels lazy and honestly is probably the worse written choice the show has even made. Even still, it dose lead to a very interesting and in character moment for Mei.

When attempting to seal the willow wisp with Red Son, Mei loses her confidence, believing that she lost the Samahdi fire and thinking she's lacking. Mk getting Monkie Kings powers was one thing, but the rest of her friends now having cool weapons and magic? If their all so strong and only getting stronger, then what's the point in Mei? She was the strongest but now she might be the weakest, and that terrifies her cause if she's weak she can't protect people. How can she act when she's powerless to do so?

This dilemma is quickly resolved by Red Son telling her she's had the fire the whole time, amending it's use to Mei's lightning motif she's had since s1 -- I know fire benders in ATLA use lighting but come on -- and basically saying she's been using the fire the whole time. It takes away from Mei's whole struggle to be honest, but I do think there's potential for her to relearn this now tamed Samahdi fire so she can better use it. Just depends if the show wants to do that...

Moving on from my thinly veiled complaints about season 5 (I like it I swear but it is the weakest seasons to me so far), let's talk about Mei's role in the group a bit. Aside from being the token girl, she's also Mk's best friend and the only other character his age and acts around the same age as the shows target audience. Mk's the main character and leader, Tang is the lazy historian smart guy, Sandy the loveable giant, Pigsy the cynical brute and Mei's youthful and silly power house.

I would love to go into some narrative tropes, specifically the 5 man band since jttw is one of the primary bases of the trope, but I've realised I have far too many thoughts about that to fit here. This is the 21sh paragraph and I'm sure at least some of this is a mess, but I hope I'm getting my point across! Overall, Mei is an extremely compelling character how often gets side-lined due to run time and other stuff, but is honestly one of my favourite characters in the show.

[starimusprime]

im curious, considering the way you write oplita (which is beautiful btw if i could, id give ur fics a kissie on the forehead) how would you portray their relationship in a sequel to tf:1?? (hopefully we’ll get a sequel 😞😞)

OOOOOO THIS QUESTIONNNN

First of all thank you so much for your compliment! I love writing them so so much, they are utter perfection in my eyes and I will never find enough content focused on them.

Ok ok. REALISTICALLY, this is ONE idea of how I would personally write the progression of their friendship into a romance, keeping in mind that I've only got roughly 2 hours to do so alongside a bunch of other character arcs and the main plot.

TF ONE SPOILERS BELOW

I would spend some time in the beginning and sprinkled throughout the rest of the film exploring the aftermath of D-16's betrayal and Orion's rapid switch from dying by his best friend's hand to being revived as Optimus Prime. I imagine that such an abrupt change - and in the middle of dying a HORRIFIC DEATH - would leave Optimus with some (maybe temporary) mental and emotional issues to work through, with the reformatting of his frame on top of that.

In the beginning, Elita is a steadfast friend (as opposed to a fair weather friend) and helps him lead the Autobots in order to ease his mental load. Secretly (maybe she reveals this to Jazz) she keeps thinking about the fact that she would have jumped into the Well of AllSparks after Orion if B-127 hadn't stopped her. It bothers her until later on when some smaller event triggers her to realize that she loves Optimus as more than just a friend. She fears that if she tells him this too soon, she could overwhelm him or scare him off (since he's still dealing with the extreme trauma he recently endured), and this results in her subconsciously distancing herself from him.

Up to this point, Optimus might have been trying to assure Elita that he's fine and genuinely believing that he is. But now when he feels the effect of Elita being less present with him (maybe he has an emotional breakdown or smth and she isn't there like she usually is) he has the realization that not only is he not fine, but he cannot work through everything alone, and most importantly there is no one he would rather do this with than Elita.

Cue mutual pining, Elita doesn't want to overwhelm him with her feelings, Optimus doesn't want to make Elita feel pressured to reciprocate his feelings because he's the Prime, then insert climactic battle with the Decepticons or sabotage mission against the Quintessons or whatever here. Big things happen, and there it is. Optimus needs to make a decision. It could be emotionally taxing, or bring his trauma back to the surface, or what have you. But Elita is there, and she is his reason to push himself aside and fight, or make the decision he needs to make for the good of Cybertron.

After the climax, they both understand that life is too short and fate too unpredictable to postpone something as important confessing one's love for another. It wouldn't be the primary element of the end of the film, but they would have a moment, tense at first (maybe Elita disobeyed an order that got her injured in the battle and Optimus was mad at her for almost dying, but now he's just grateful that she's okay). Tension would give way to awkwardness or shyness as they talk quietly about something war-related, until finally one of them opens up, incapable of holding in their true feelings any longer. The other would be startled by the abrupt confession, but then it all makes sense.

Maybe they wouldn't kiss in that moment...but they definitely would in a post-credits scene!

[blackkatmagic]

Hello! I've been binging your fics and I'm blown away by how you manage to craft these long stories that are both plotty and character driven! Every time I try my hand at writing I get so overwhelmed by all the details and get bogged down by some entangled plot thread that I just give up... How do you plan out these amazing longfics and keep up an update schedule for multiple fics at the same time? Do you make a plot outline and keep a canon reference on hand when writing? I'd love to hear about your process!

For me, not getting overwhelmed by details comes down to having a mostly-clear idea of what plot beats I want to hit, even if I don't know the exact beats themselves. I don't outline, because it makes my brain feel as if I've already written the fic and then I lose motivation, but I'll usually throw together a bullet-point list of spots I want the plot to go. I try to keep them vague - "thing that makes Jon confront his parental trauma here" or "event that makes Wolffe rely in Feral here" sorts of things - but all in service of the overall theme/direction of the story.

Everything that happens should be directly related to the overall plot, either in shaping the character relationships or shaping events. I know Tumblr likes to scream about how people need to bring back filler, but if you're not careful, and if you don't keep that filler tailored to show character growth/relationship growth, it turns into stray plot threads and bogs things down. If it's a side tangent, remove it and put it in a side fic - focus the main one on what's happening to your characters, and how those characters are shaping the plot.

I'm prone to adding too many subplots to things, personally, and I always want to explore more parts of a story or more characters. The best way to corral that impulse is to make sure all of those threads tie back into the main plot before the end, or help solve a problem in the main plot. As long as you're writing with that in mind, it makes stray threads less likely, and you can fix moments where you've written yourself into a corner by pulling on those threads.

[erisweekofficial]

Today we're highlighting @acourtofladydeath, creator and mastermind behind @polyacotarweek. She's written so many amazing pieces about Eris across multiple ships and genres. And if you find yourself wanting to explore other characters, she's got you covered with her masterlist of 30+ works on AO3.

🧡 Looking for something deeply emotional and poignant? Please start with LD's favorite fic, All Things End (Azris). 🎧 It even has a playlist. 🎧

🔥 If you're looking for a good horny time, try Welcome to the Family, which features Elain x Eris or Rules are Rules (Azris). You're in for a good time with those two. Especially if you like Beron.

Read on to learn more about LD's writing process + some advice for writing about Eris...

What themes do you like to explore in your work with Eris?

I really enjoy exploring the juxtaposition and depth of Eris. He needs to act a certain way to protect the people he loves and keep his place within the Autumn Court under his father. But does he want to act that way? How soft is he, or is he actually as mean as he seems? I like when he's a bit of both. I think he's a very protective person, and I enjoy exploring the different ways that manifests with different people. I also think he's experienced a lot of trauma in his life, and I'd be remiss if I didn't say I enjoy exploring that and how it influences both his external and internal persona.

What other characters do you enjoy writing about alongside Eris?

Three favorites, three different relationships: My favorite person to ship Eris with is Azriel, and I love writing different iterations of their relationship. Some are softer, others are spicier, and then there's the really sad takes. There's so much give and take with these two and it's so fascinating to play around with. I love writing Eris and Nesta as best friends. Their wit is so well matched, as is their lived experiences with their siblings and parents. They have so much overlap, and you can write them funny or feeling and any combination in betwell. Plus, who says friends can't fuck? Not me. The third person is Lucien. I really enjoy exploring their familial relationships. Were they close as kids? If they hate each other, have they always? How does this relate to their relationships with their parents and other brothers? There's so many different ways to skin this cat and I want to write them all.

What's your favorite piece you've created featuring Eris and why?

I hemmed and hawed over this question forever, but I think the fic that fits best is "All Things End." This fic is pure bittersweet angsty sadness. What if Beron's torture gave Eris incurable dementia? How would his mate, Azriel, their children, and Lucien handle the situation? CW for dementia, death, and grief. I created two playlists for this fic: one that's a direct accompaniment and another that's an extended cut. The direct playlist is timed to the reading length of the fic, and specific songs play during specific scenes to enhance the reader experience (AKA bring more tissues).

Do you have any advice for other creators wanting to make eris content?

Eris is a character that we don't know much about compared to others in the series. When I go to write him I start with what we do know: his father's abuse, he's a general, he protected Lucien, we don't have the whole story about the Mor situation. He's cunning, so you know that what you see isn't all there is. I like to build backward. What from canon do I want to focus on? How does canon tie into whatever type of fic I'm writing? Why does he act the way he acts, and how does that tie into his canon history and the plot/theme/characterization of my fic? This helps build up the layers that are so integral to who I think Eris is as a character. Complex, captivating, keeps you on your toes. And don't forget his gold jewelry.

[eddiediaaz]

hellooooo! i read a lot of buck/eddie fics, literally everyday, and earlier this december i thought "why not share some of my favorites that i have read this month?" so here we are! i couldn't include everything i've read and enjoyed, the list would be really long. but i've picked a few fanfics that i've read (for the first time) in december that were really huge favorites and stayed with me for a little while these past days/weeks. i will try to make these on a monthly basis, because fanfic authors deserve all of the recognition! oh, and happy new year!

both blades and branch by @cal-daisies-and-briars 62k | mature | canon divergence | completed: december 2023

The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

this fic is absolutely incredible. i couldn't put it down once i started. it's extremely well written and brilliantly planned out. the angst is heavy but so is the reward: this is an amazing story. easily an all-time favorite!

my blood on your skin (my rose on your snow) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels 80k | explicit | alternate universe | posted: october 2023

When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies.

another exquisite fic from this author. they never miss!! this one explores a dynamic i don't read that often (sub eddie) but it works SO well here. extremely well done, as usual. i also absolutely love this buck here.

burn a bridge, learn how to swim [series] by watermelonshorts 34k | mature/explicit | canon verse | completed: july 2021

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

they are GIANT disasters in here! really loved the humoristic tone of this whole thing. i just wanna shake them and yell learn how to communicate properly damn it!

dead reckoning by euadnes 28k | mature | canon verse | posted: december 2022

In which a tragedy on the edge of a firestorm leaves part of the 118 stranded and struggling to survive in the wilderness. Left entirely to their own devices, the survivors fight to come home, alive.

buck, eddie, and ravi survive a plane crash, and it's amazing. incredibly well written, i was hooked from the very start and couldn't put it down until i was done.

here comes the jackpot question in advance by @lamardeuse 4k | teen+ | canon verse | posted: december 2023

Buck is determined to start the new year right.

this is very very very cute!!! i always love a cute holiday themed get together story. as always, this author nailed the characterization!

being eddie by @cal-daisies-and-briars 79k | teen+ | canon divergence | completed: august 2023

When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

incredible concept!!! all the moments chosen for eddie to revisit are perfect and make so much sense for his character. this was such a great read and an absolutely amazing character exploration fic.

a blaze in the dark by @woodchoc-magnum 117k | explicit | canon verse | published: december 2023

Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

okay so i literally read this in one sitting and went to bed at 7am to finish it. i couldn't put it down. the angst is SO good and frustrating and delicious and painful. but the payoff is so worth it!! this is really really really good. i loved all the dynamics, especially eddie and karen's friendship.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

love love love ur parentification analysis on sokka and katara especially katara’s section! it puzzles me so when KA’s say ZK’s do not understand the show nor katara when to me it’s so obvious we do 😭

thank you so much anon! I’m so happy that my post resonated with you!

A while back I saw a Tumblr survey about favourite characters and ships. It basically showed that for people whose favourite character is Katara, Zutara is the most popular ship. Obviously the Venn diagram between Zutara shippers and Katara fans isn’t a circle, but I think the overlap contributes to why so many ZKs are passionate about Katara. Also, ZKs who are Katara fans tend to be pretty flexible with Katara ships: many people like Harutara / Jiangtara / Yuetara / Sukitara / Azutara (though most shippers of Azutara tend to be Azula stans first and Katara stans second). What’s really funny and a little sad to me is that non-ZK Katara fans who dislike her canon arc get accused of being ZKs by antis (this happens weirdly often to @sapphic-agent). It’s like some antis can’t comprehend the idea that people might just love Katara without the ship war.

I generally like reading POVs from Katara fans of all ships, but I recently discovered that I tend to disagree with POVs from Zukka shippers. They often try to defend Katara’s “childhood” by pointing out that Katara sometimes goofs off and Sokka also takes responsibility, so she’s not just the “mom friend.” To be clear I’m not disagreeing with those points, but I don’t think downplaying her parentification trauma is defending her childhood, especially since goofing off & being impulsive make her parentification more realistic, not less. It feels kind of disingenuous to accuse the fandom of being the ones to parentify her when The Runaway exists, especially since they downplay Katara’s parentification in order to play up Sokka’s parentification. There’s nothing feminist about ignoring the invisible labour performed by a woman in a cartoon, not when brave women IRL have been agitating to recognize care work for literal decades. I wrote my undergrad thesis on invisible labour performed by women, especially women of colour, in radical activist spaces…so I feel really strongly about this.

I think it’s interesting that a lot of ATLA fans claim Katara shouldn’t be with Zuko on the grounds of her colonial trauma, but refuse to entertain the notion that maybe she shouldn’t be with Aang (a kid who evades responsibility) because of her parentification trauma. The murder of her mother stems from imperialist violence, but her subsequent parentification stems from patriarchal gender norms around divisions of labour and assignations of responsibility. The patriarchy is a thing in ATLA, and it’s canonically something that Katara hates almost as much as the Fire Nation (incidentally, reason 27363729 why the fic Southern Lights is so special to me is how it deftly explores both anger at a colonial apparatus & anger at your own people for their patriarchal oppression).

[thebibutterflyao3]

I always wonder why people think that James would choose Sirius over his partner. While canon is a literal dumpster fire, James cut ties with EVERYONE to keep Lily and Harry safe. We have zero reason to believe that he prioritised anyone over his partner, even his friends.

As someone with a lifelong best friend who is the other half of my soul and always will be, I would be devastated if she asked me to choose between her and my partner. It would be a betrayal of the trust and bond we have as friends. The relationships are different and both should be treated with respect.

If anyone understands that, I think it’s James Potter. He had a beautiful example of a strong, loving relationship in his parents and his son was definitely the center of his world. Protecting his relationship with his partner above his friends is a perfectly in character.

In most cases, this person chose to trust their partner with access to their mind, body, and heart, as well as their finances, personal effects, health, and safety. Life partners are not often someone you just sleep with.

James is an all or nothing character, he gives every piece of himself without hesitation to someone who needs help. With a partner, he would go further still, and if you’re devoting the entirety of your life to someone, your best friend would (or at least should) respect the depth of that relationship. Which is why it’s so devastating for James in StarChaser/Jegulus fics for Sirius to object.

I will add that I think it’s understandable for Sirius to object, given his history and his trauma. Especially when it’s Regulus. This push/pull of emotions and the exploration of relationships is what makes StarChaser so compelling for me. It is probably the biggest test of James and Sirius’s friendship, which we know was insanely close.