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stiltonbasket · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still accepting prompts, I’m curious how much chaos qin su!wwx was able to subtly cause at jinlintai without being caught? bc i don’t think he could go that many months without doing Something to Someone lol

(brief author’s note: this au is entirely prompt-based, so please reblog if you can for future updates!)

Three months into his stay at the Jinlintai, Wei Wuxian discovers that he dislikes Su She even more than he dislikes his husband.

It’s not even that he falls all over himself doing Jin Guangyao’s bidding, because he doesn’t, he reflects, observing the two in conference at one of the Jin sect’s private banquets. Su She’s really loyal to him, and that’s even worse.

Before her death, Qin Su was almost certain that Su She had taken part in Jin Rusong’s murder, simply because Jin Guangyao could never have done the killing alone. She maintained that Jin Guangyao would not have been able to go to the guest kitchens, poison the plate intended for him, and visit He Su’s private quarters with time to spare; and Wei Wuxian agrees with her, if only because plotting the murder of a young sect heir in public would require a like-minded accomplice.

“Poor A-Song,” Wei Wuxian sighs, laying down his embroidery as his two handmaidens hurry to his elbow to comfort him with tea and snacks. “Yongpei, what will I do?”

“Nothing will bring our A-Song back,” the elder maidservant says, with tears already welling in her eyes at the mention of her mistress’s son. “But Mistress, just because it hasn’t worked in these last years, you mustn’t give up persuading the master to give you another baby! Mistress hasn’t said anything about it this last year, and A-Tai and I feared you’d lost hope--but Mistress, you are so pretty, and you love your husband so dearly, so how long can he resist favoring you even if he can’t bear the thought of losing a second child? Mistress gave Sect Leader a wonderful baby boy, it wasn’t any fault of yours that our xiao-gongzi passed away--and surely the same horrible tragedy can’t happen twice! You can’t give in, no matter what the master says about it.”

“A-Pei,” Wei Wuxian says gently, “this mistress is grateful for your faith, but in the end, I am A-Yao’s wife, and in matters such as these, I must respect his wishes. What kind of shameless woman would I be if I forced my husband to my bed, when I know he wants nothing less than to have another child with me?”

“A woman should have a child!” Shao Tai cries. “Mistress, it’s not the same at all! When Sect Leader first stopped favoring you, you never said a word, and it was all right before we lost A-Song--Mistress only wanted to be a good mother to her baby, and obey Sect Leader faithfully in all things! But now, even though it’s been more than ten years since xiao-gongzi died, he still...”

“Do you really think it’s unkind of him?” Wei Wuxian murmurs, glancing down at his half-embroidered handkerchiefs and pretending to blink back a few tears of his own. “He says he’s afraid for my health, but...”

“Yes, he is being unkind! Mistress shouldn’t be afraid to ask for what she wants!”

Wei Wuxian chews on his lip for a moment. “Do A-Pei and A-Tai really think I should go ahead with this?”

The two women both nod forcefully, setting the tea and cakes down on the desk so that they can kneel by his feet. “You have served Sect Leader without a word of complaint all this time, so why shouldn’t he grant you this one wish?” Yongpei says. “Mistress, if you leave it to us, we will see to all the preparations!”

A-Tai gives a timid cough. “But jiejie, if Mistress acts too suddenly, won’t he be suspicious?”

“Well, what else is she supposed to do?”

“No more of that,” Wei Wuxian scolds, barely keeping his lips from twitching as he finally thinks of another way to approach his plans to escape the Jinlintai by seducing Jin Guangyao. “Yongpei, A-Tai, you know this mistress of yours is a skilled cook?”

For once, Wei Wuxian isn’t actually pretending; he is a good cook, having learned the art at Jiang Yanli’s knee, even if he ruins all his dishes at the last moment by pouring chili oil into them. “Yes,” A-Tai replies, clearly confused. “Do you want to cook for your husband, my lady?”

“Not for my husband,” he smiles, brightening up like a summer sun cresting the horizon at daybreak as he looks at his fine-featured reflection in the mirror. “I’ve cooked for us often, so doing it again won’t mean anything much. But he has a dinner with Su-zongzhu and Zhang-zongzhu scheduled for the end of next week, so I’ll tell him I mean to cook all the dishes myself.”

“But, Mistress...!”

“Nonsense. I’ve made up my mind, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Wei Wuxian says briskly, putting away his embroidery needles. “And you two ought to get to bed, you know. It’s nearly eleven o’clock!”

It goes without saying that Wei Wuxian has no interest whatsoever in cooking for any of Jin Guangyao’s associates.

However, he does have access to a small store of hot Yunmeng spices laid aside for Jin Guangyao’s personal use, and he knows well enough that Jin Guangyao likes them--and that Su She, whose clan is native to Lan Zhan’s Suzhou, will not be able to tolerate so much as a speck of it.

(The plan goes off without a hitch, and Su She’s mouth and stomach fare so badly after eating a dish Wei Wuxian swore was meant for his husband that he has to take three rest days in the guest house to recover.)

“No way!” Jin Zixuan crows delightedly, as Wei Wuxian finishes narrating Su She’s unfortunate encounter with the mighty trifecta of Sichuan peppercorns, horseradish, and the spiciest chillies that Lanling gold could buy. “I wish I’d been there to see it. Who knew you could be so sneaky, Wei Wuxian?”

“It had a greater purpose,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “I didn’t just do it for fun. I had to keep making overtures to Jin Guangyao so that he wouldn’t have any choice but to send me away when I finally tried to seduce him.”

On the other side of the campfire, Lan Zhan goes still. “Seduce?”

“Yes, of course. How else did you think that Jin-furen, wife to a zongzhu and xiandu all at once, could ever manage to get away from the Jinlintai without her husband noticing? He tried for months to placate me when I cooked him dinner and dressed in the colors he liked and proposed building a temple in Meng-furen and A-Song’s names, and then I finally had my handmaidens prepare me to receive him in my chambers and gave him the fright of his life. Smart, don’t you think?”

Lan Zhan’s face pales. “You ought not to have taken such measures,” he says hoarsely. “What if something had happened to you?”

“I’m his wife,” Wei Wuxian replies, bemused. “What could possibly have happened to me? Everyone thinks Qin Su must be barren, so no one would even try bumping me off to make sure Jin Guangyao could never have another heir. And he does care about her, you know.”

In answer, Lan Zhan only lets out a small scoff and turns his back to the fire, facing out into the night while Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan exchange puzzled glances over his head. “Rest, both of you,” he says quietly. “We will have to ride on towards Yunmeng in the morning, just in case that courtesan Mo-gongzi mentioned in his letter might be there.”

And then, as the three of them have done for the last month’s worth of nights they spent traveling together, Lan Zhan drifts off to sleep first, and Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian follow into a mist of uneasy dreams.

#wangxian #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #jin zixuan #qin su!wwx #my fic

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laws-yellow-submarine · 3 years ago

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Uhhhh hi? Lol I dunno if anyone remembers this, but this past May I mentioned I was going through quite a lot, and at the time I had a Hazel-focused Mother's Day angst one-shot half-written, that never got finished.

Well, it's 3:30 am, and it's finished! 😃 this was written on my phone, so it may not be well edited, and I can't guarantee it's 100% in character; but it was cathartic as hell. I won't be including this in Together With Fruit (it just doesn't fit anywhere), but I will say it's 100% canon to Hazel’s character/story. That being said, you don't have to read it if you don't want to - it's a little heavy, imo, and I won't be offended if people skip it.

But without further ado, I present: The Problems with Mother's Day

TW/CW: Parental angst, estranged parent relationships, mentions of death, feelings of inadequacy (if I need to add anything lemme know!)

Word Count: 2,052

-------

From the moment Hazel opened her eyes, she knew it was going to be a long day. The skies were cloudy, the waves choppy, and her roommate’s face was about ten inches away, smiling a little too sweetly.

“Ahh!” she yelled, jumping back in bed. “Nami, what the hell?!”

“Oh good, you’re up!” Nami chirped at her, doing nothing to alleviate the suspicion in Hazel’s gut. “I need a favor!”

“I told you before: if Luffy gets his head stuck between the railings, it’s better to just leave him there or he’ll never learn his lesson.”

“No, no, not that, silly!” Hazel glared further at the young woman, suspicion thoroughly piqued. “See, it’s Mother’s Day! Normally, Nojiko and I have a tradition of cooking a big breakfast, but since she’s obviously not here, I was wondering if you’d like to join me?” and then she flashed the biggest pair of puppy dog eyes Hazel had ever seen. Which was saying something, considering how often Ace had tried to use that on her when they were kids.

There was just one issue.

“It’s Mother’s Day?” Hazel groaned, rubbing one hand over her face. Nami took her groaning as a sign of tiredness, and enthusiastically nodded her head.

“Please, Hazel? My sister and I do this every year, and I’d really like to share it with you!”

Guilt gnawed at Hazel’s gut. How could she possibly say “no” now?

“Sure, Nami...just,” she sighed, “give me a second to get dressed.” And then Nami let out a squeal, of all things, hugged the purple-haired girl around the shoulders, and bounded up the stairs.

Left alone, Hazel took a deep, shuddery breath. Then she took another one. Then another, on and on until they became steadier, and the world didn’t feel like it’d swallow her up right there. She stood up, padding over to the closet the girls shared, and quickly threw on a plain t-shirt and shorts; something she wouldn’t be upset about getting messy. She threw her curly hair into a messy ponytail, squared her shoulders, and with a firm nod of her head, she followed after Nami.

It was early, enough so that the sun had barely peaked over the horizon. With all the clouds in the sky, the seascape remained a rather dull blue, the orange of the sun’s rays blocked from view. Even Sanji, who normally woke up pretty early to get a start on breakfast, was still nestled deep in his hammock down below.

“How’d you manage to secure the kitchen for the day?” she asked as she entered the galley, deftly catching the apron Nami tossed her way.

“I told Sanji-kun I had something special planned, batted my eyelashes a bit, and he was convinced to sleep in for a day,” Nami explained, pulling the last of the ingredients from the fridge and setting them on the counter. “I’ve got the pancake batter covered, if you wanna get a start on the bacon!”

Hazel slid up to the counter, eyeing the array of food and utensils the navigator had set out. It had been a while since she'd made bacon - Luffy had a habit of stealing the still sizzling strips from the pan - but she dutifully set to work at the stove as Nami chatted on.

"One year, Belle-mere wasn't able to afford our usual breakfast ingredients, so Nojiko and I had to improvise," the younger woman was saying as she steadily dribbled pancake batter onto the skillet. "We snuck into the tangerine grove and picked as many as we could find, but we stuck to the smaller ones so they wouldn't be missed." Hazel hummed in acknowledgement, gut churning. "Nojiko set up an entire tray of tangerines cut into different shapes, but when Belle-mere tried to eat? Her face puckered up like this!"

Nami's face scrunched into an expression that resembled a dried up pufferfish, cheeks sunken in and eyes screwed shut, before she bust out laughing at the memory. Hazel smiled good-naturedly, piling more bacon onto the plate beside her, and Nami launched into another story.

"Oh! And then there was the year I tried to make the pancakes by myself for the first time! Normally that was Nojiko's job, but I convinced her to let me try," the navigator said, eyes far away as she expertly flipped another pancake. "The entire kitchen ended up covered in batter! I'm not even sure how it happened - I thought Belle-mere would be furious! I was so scared I hid in the closet, but I didn't realize I'd tracked flour behind me." Nami shook her head, smiling. "Belle-mere opened the closet door, took one look at me, and grinned this huge grin. She said it was the 'best year ever'..."

Hazel bit her cheek as Nami sighed wistfully. "Belle-mere was always saying that: it was the 'best year ever', no matter how much we ruined breakfast."

"Hm."

"Hazel, are you ok?"

"Huh?" Hazel glanced at her in surprise, then quickly resumed her task, tension coiling in her gut as she nodded. Just breathe, Hazel…

"Are you sure?" Nami asked, worry ringing in her voice. "You don't seem to be having much fun."

"I'm fine, Nami," Hazel grit out, flinching back as a drop of grease jumped out at her.

"No you're not! What's wrong?"

"Look, I said I'm fine, alright?!" Hazel snapped, turning from the bacon to glare at the young girl. "I just don't really give a shit about Mother's Day!"

Nami's gasp was accented by the galley door opening, their crew's footsteps halting as Hazel’s statement hung in the air. All at once, her anger fled, replaced quickly with burning shame at Nami's watery gaze. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, and the warmth growing in her cheeks, Hazel muttered a quick "sorry" before bolting from the room.

The others watched her go, breakfast momentarily forgotten, until the familiar thwap thwap of their captain's flip flops broke the silence, punctuated by Luffy’s excited cry: "Sanji! Food!"

--------

"I just don't get it!" Nami yelled as she sat at the table, anger, embarrassment, and guilt all warring within her. Hazel still hadn't returned to the kitchen. "It's just Mother's Day. It should be a day to celebrate!"

"I'm sure Hazel-chan has her reasons, Nami-san," Sanji said around his cigarette, unhappy that "his girls" were at odds. Luffy scratched under his hat.

"What's Mother's Day?"

Luckily for him, Luffy was used to the incredulous stares his crew often bestowed on him. Even Zoro was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Wait. Could he do that?

"Even you should know what Mother's Day is," Nami scolded the boy as he inexplicably began to pull at the skin on his shoulder.

Luffy shrugged. "Nope!"

"It's the day you celebrate your mom!" Nami was met with a blank stare. "You know, the one who provides for you, even if it means she goes without."

"The one who encourages your dreams, and loves you unconditionally," Sanji added, a wistful look in his eye as he flicked his cigarette.

"The one who tells you stories, and tucks you into bed at night," Usopp chimed in, face alight with happy memories.

But Luffy merely raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Hazel already has a birthday, I'm supposed to give her two parties?!"

And then the room grew silent once more as the weight of his question settled on the others' shoulders. Nami felt her stomach clench, threatening to evict a breakfast she hadn't even eaten as she realized what had happened. She pushed herself to her feet, rushing out of the kitchen with barely a word to the others.

She had to find Hazel.

-------

Nami found her standing against the railing, on the complete opposite side of the ship. Hazel’s arms were crossed in front of her, the wind blowing through her loose, purple curls as she gazed out at the sea. The navigator approached slowly, suddenly nervous now that she was here. But before she could utter any apology, Hazel beat her to it.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. That wasn't very fair, and you didn't deserve it."

Nami's brown eyes snapped up to the other woman's face, still not facing her, and swallowed against the growing lump in her throat.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," she said, leaning on the rail beside her. "I should have asked you first. I shouldn't have assumed you'd be OK with it."

Hazel shrugged. "You had good intentions, at least. It's the thought that counts."

"Is it?" But Hazel didn't answer, and the two slipped into a heavy silence broken only by the crash of waves against the hull. "What happened to her?" Nami finally asked, shoulders tensed as she waited for the older woman to either answer or scold her.

Hazel only sighed. "Honestly?" she clicked her tongue, shrugging her shoulders and biting her lip. "No idea. Don't really remember her."

"But if you don't remember…" Nami started, eyes lighting up as an idea struck her. "Then she could still be out there somewhere! Maybe we'll find her-!"

"I hope she's dead."

The finality of the statement struck Nami dumb, mouth hanging open in shock at the woman's deadened expression. There was no waver in Hazel’s tone, no room for any doubt that she meant it. "What…?"

Hazel laughed through her nose, a bitter sound. "Sounds horrible, right? Especially today of all days? But it's true." Hazel’s jaw clenched, her fists curling around the Merry's railing. "If she's dead, then it wasn't a choice. If she's dead, then she didn't decide to -! She didn't just -!" Her shoulders shook, breaths coming out in ragged gasps, unable to finish the statement.

Nami reacted without thinking, pulling the shaking woman into her arms without hesitation. Hazel's voice broke, heartache echoing between them as she gasped out: "why wasn't I enough?"

"Now you look at me!" Nami cried, pulling back to lock her eyes onto Hazel’s. "Don't you ever think you aren't enough! Just look at everything you've done! We're all here because of you, Hazel!"

Hazel rolled her watery gray eyes. "You're here because of Luffy - I'm just emotional support." But Nami shook her head.

"Luffy may have brought us together, but he only got to where he is because you supported him! He thinks the absolute world of you, he loves you - we all love you! And you've done all of this without her! Screw her!" Hazel dissolved into a new round of tears, and Nami pulled her back into her warm embrace. "New tradition: from now on, let us show you how much we appreciate you, whether that's through breakfast together, or leaving you the hell alone."

Hazel choked out a wet, shaky laugh, fingers clutching tightly to Nami's t-shirt as the tears flowed through her. Finally, they subsided, and as she leaned back Nami helped wipe the remaining tear tracks away. Hazel took a deep breath, then another, feeling lighter than she had all day. Then, her stomach growled.

"I think I'm ready to go back to breakfast," she murmured, too drained to be embarrassed. Nami just smiled, linking their arms together as she led the way back to the others.

When they entered the galley, the pair were separated when a rubbery figure launched itself at Hazel. Luffy wrapped his limbs around his sister, squeezing so tight it was a wonder she didn't break a rib. "Hazel! Sanji made you coffee! He wouldn't let me try it but I did anyway - how do you drink that stuff?!"

Hazel just smiled at his rambling, wiggling her arms free of her brother's embrace, surprising the boy when she hugged him back (almost) as tightly, and kissed him on the forehead. "Heeey!" He whined, pulling away to angrily rub at the spot she'd kissed. "What was that for?!"

"Nothing, just…I'm proud of you, Luff." The boy's face broke into a grin.

"Shishishi! I'm proud of you, too! Now, let's eat!"

Finally, the Straw Hats gathered around the table, digging into their meal with an excited frenzy. Sipping her coffee, Hazel nudged the woman beside her. "Thanks, Nami," she said, smiling easily after the events of that morning. "But, for future reference? On Father's Day, you may just wanna let me stay in bed."

#monkey d. hazel #one piece oc #one piece original character #together with fruit #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fan fic #monkey siblings #monkey d. luffy #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #usopp #cat burglar nami #straw hat pirates #yes it's a mother's day fic in October - sue me lol #leyna go to bed at a decent time challenge

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bugmomwrites · 5 years ago

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Animal Crossed Lovers (Tamaki Amajiki)

Alrighty so I haven't put any finished work on here in a hot minute, that’s my bad. ANYWHO my mom got me ACNH as an early birthday gift since my birthday (April 5th) just missed the supposed quarantine cutoff date for our area (7th). I may be be stuck inside while everything’s closed, but hey- at least the island of Escapism hardly rests 😉

(SW-3129-0651-5422)

Tamaki Amajiki x GN! Reader

Tamaki was never one to play video games, but he had to admit there was just something...soothing about Animal Crossing that melted much of his anxiety away. Nejire had initially preordered a copy for his birthday weeks ago, but her friend who worked at the local (s/n) (who he may or may not have been crushing on since their second year after they joined them at lunch one day) was able to pull a couple strings and get it on the fourth of March instead of the twentieth. Of course he had no idea, but he was so stunned when he opened it that it didn’t even occur to him that the game wasn’t even out yet until Mirio had reminded him. He didn’t question it though- his friend group was one wild card after another, so he guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised.

He was thrilled, and just the fact that no one else had a copy yet made it feel all the more personal. Of course he knew in sixteen days it would be all anybody ever talked about, but for the time being it felt like the game, the little world he had created in the past few days with its gentle music and soft, wholesome theme, was his and his alone. The fact that it was a gift from his friends made it all the more special, and even if he had a hectic day at school he could turn on the console and water pretend flowers on a pretend island, and for those few moments, all was right with the world.

He was pulling weeds to sell to Timmy for bells when his screen pinged in the corner that made his blood run cold.

(Gamertag) is online

Playing: Animal Crossing New Horizons

That’s right, you had friended him on the switch after realizing all his friends had one, and now with a fourth person they could have a full team online. Mirio has suggested everyone exchange codes, and you had taken the liberty of showing him how to punch in the code and adding yourself while he sat there trying not to melt into his seat at how excited you got, or how nice you smelled up close. You had passed it back with a beaming grin, telling him you couldn’t wait to do co-ops. At the time he could only nod, speechless as the rest of his friends made idle chatter until the bell rung, and everyone scurried back to class.

He quickly realized he had left the terminal gate open when he was poking around the various features, learning about what each thing does in game. He tried sprinting to the airport to close the gates, and he made it to the dock before a big green banner flashed across his screen reading “you have a visitor!”

Out of the threshold popped your avatar, and for a moment he was grateful he could hide behind a screen. He wanted to be mad, upset even, that you had wandered onto his digital sanctuary, but couldn’t find it in himself because, then again, it was you.

The Nookphone in the top left corner buzzed to life, and he opened up the chat log with shaky hands. In a cutesy, pastel speech bubble was your message, and he wondered how something that was once so therapeutic to him could do a 180 and suddenly become the source of his anxiety.

G/T: Hello! Sorry to pop in unannounced, I hope you don’t mind^^

Tamaki felt his mouth go dry, reading it in your voice and after steadying his breathing, he painstakingly typed out a response.

Suneater: its ok.

G/T: It’s kinda hard to find others to play with when the game isn’t even released yet >~<

Suneater: Oh?

He should have known it was too good to be true. You were only visiting him because no one else was on yet. He sighed, trying to keep the dread from crawling back in before another note popped up.

G/T: The game doesn’t actually release until the first day of spring, but working at (s/n) has its perks. I saw the trailers and the hype and figured it would be the perfect game for you.

He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon reading that. So he wasn’t the last choice- rather, the game simply wasn’t out to the general public yet. But if that was the case, how did you also get a copy?

Suneater: thats nice of you

G/T: And then a little birdy told me you had a birthday coming up, so since I have a couple connections after I got my copy, I asked my manager if they’d set aside one more.

Suneater: you

Suneater: you were the one who helped get it early?

Boy did he feel stupid now. You worked at (s/n), (as you had literally just mentioned in your previous notes), Nejire got him a game that wasn’t out yet, you guys were all mutual friends- how did he not put two and two together?!

G/T: Yes lol that would be me^ you liking it so far? You picked a good name for the island too.

“Sunshine Island” may have seemed a little cliche to most people, but Tamaki had so many things in his life linked to it that by this point, it was just routine. Mirio was his sun in dark times. His nickname Suneater, even the sunflowers he had received from his parents for his birthday each year was tradition. He knew not everyone would see it the way he did, but to him, it was perfect, and he was definitely chuffed when he thought it up and punched it in for the first time.

To hear you loved it too sent a swell of pride through him, and he wondered if it was possible to love someone as much as he did just then.

Suneater: you really think so?

G/T: Absolutely

And with that, the two of you explored Sunshine Island together, he showed you his tent, the shops, and the little orchard of peaches he had arranged. You were impressed by the amount of detail and care that went into arranging everything, and asked if he’d be willing to help you with your island sometime, to which he obliged.

You guys did some more walking, and he told you to feel free to shake theres and take a couple fruits with you. His native fruit was peaches, and in exchange you dropped a couple of your own fruits from your island on the ground for him to pick up so he could have more variety in his world.

G/T: There’s six different kinds, and each island is assigned one main type of fruit. the more you visit with friends, the more biodiversity you’ll get. Pretty cool right? I have some spare (F/N), and if you take and plant those, they'll grow and multiply!

His avatar hesitantly wandered over to the offering after yours stepped back a little to let him take them. Your generousity was surely appreciated, and even though you couldn't see it, he smiled softly before typing out a new message.

Suneater: Thank you. I’ll go plant those.

The game might have been synced up with real time, even getting darker after a certain hour- yet despite it being outside, neither one of you noticed just how much time had passed between all the bug catching, fishing, exploring and talking. When your screen loaded up a clock that read 2:54 AM, you blinked a few times, as if that would change the reading. But lo and behold, it was going for 3am on a school night, and you knew you both had to get to bed.

G/T: Ah beans its 3am, I gotta get to bed soon. Thanks for letting me hang out on your island, and sorry for keeping you awake >~<

Suneater: don't be sorry, i had a lot of fun. can we play together again sometime?

G/T: Of course! I can't wait to meet up again. Maybe we can visit my island next time? I should have those peaches planted by then, and you can teach me your ways, oh master landscaper.

Tamaki chuckled out loud at that, blushing, as he suddenly had a brilliant idea.

Suneater: That would be nice. Wait here a second.

He scurried off to a patch of flowers he had blooming, and with a shovel, picked up a few in your favorite color before making his way back over and dropping them in front of you.

Suneater: You can start by planting a few of these around your island. It is your favorite color, right?

Now it was your turn to blush as you picked up the (f/c) flowers he dropped in front of you, smiling like a goon at his burst of confidence. How he remembered your favorite color is beyond you, but hey- you weren’t complaining.

G/T: They’re perfect, thank you Tama!

Suneater: You're welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow?

G/N: You know it! Goodnight <3

And on that note you walked down to the airport, his avatar following close behind as if to see you off. It was a simple gesture, but appreciated nonetheless. Both of you powered down your switches for the night before plugging them in, and promptly hopping into your respective beds with racing hearts. It was the perfect end to your digital “date” and you couldn’t wait to log in again.

Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The inbox is always open for future ideas, so don’t be afraid to drop in.

Also gonna tag @katsukisprincess cause I mean...Animal Crossing and wholesome Tamaki fluff. ‘Nuff said.

#bug mom writes #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #acnh #bnha #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #tamaki x reader #amajiki tamaki #tamaki amajiki #x reader imagine #fluff

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helpimstuckhere · 4 years ago

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PART II

+chapter 22 analysis

(and don’t worry you don’t need to read anything else to understand part II:D)

good humans, greetings:) since latest chapter was translated, as promised here’s the part II of my previous post. i listened to Just a Ride by Rishloo on the loop while writing this and i completely recommend it! please feel free to comment and give me feedback, it always broadens my horizons to interact with you people :D first, let’s talk about the latest chapter, which i’m glad i waited for. such a short chapter wears quite the weight.

if i were to dissect chapter 22, there would be three main parts

1-hibino and yamato

hibino not letting yamato kiss him made me quite happy for the guy, since self respect somehow doesn’t seem to exist in many of the other works in the same genre. and also, him calling yamato uncool wasn’t really uncalled for considering the situation. i actually didn’t think much of it until the same thought was repeated two more times, then it became a full-on attack lmao. (i think jackverglas also pointed this out!) mostly to show yuiji finding that uncoolness likable and not disappointing like hibino seems to believe it is. the panel below might be the most obvious example of that, the way yamato says hibino isn’t happy with yamato’s true self and answering “it’s fine” when nacchan asks if that’s actually okay with him seemed truly heartbreaking to me. someone that could make you happy, nacchan said. that’s someone who likes you as you are and in this situation, hibino sadly doesn’t fit the criteria.

but rather than that the main purpose behind the first couple of pages were to create conflict. yamato, who’s in love with the idea of love in general is now desperate to the point he falls into the pit of so called modern day romance. he’s quickly trying to separate his romantic feelings from yuiji, forcefully trying to switch them onto somebody else, anybody else but yuiji to be exact. yamato’s side of the story is thus concluded and the responsibility for their relationship seems to fall on yuiji for now. while yuiji figures himself out, his ticking time with yamato should also be one of the reasons that makes him move. after all conflict itself is created to make progress. where there are problems, there are also changes.

2- nacchan and yamato

here’s nacchan being an absolute angel:

this time nacchan’s feelings for yamato seemed to lose their control over her. she was able to properly support him as a friend and didn’t seem disheartened by the news. maybe her romantic feelings toward him are slowly withering but of course that’s far from certain considering her personality. nacchan is nice to the point of naivety at times. right now, she knows the whole situation the best. from yamato’s feelings towards yuiji to why he decided to work things out with hibino, she sees clear as day that yamato’s going through a lot. nacchan seems to support yamato’s idea, probably thinking he doesn’t really have a chance with yuiji. so that could also be why nacchan’s romantic feelings doesn’t seem so obvious, since she’s concerned with yamato’s issues before all. she’s the type to put others before herself after all, but still isn’t yuiji supposed to be the same when it comes to yamato?

then, for an example here’s how different yuiji and nacchan’s reactions are to the ‘good news’ yamato had to offer. if nacchan is the one who’s in love with yamato why do their reactions seem to be so drastically different in the opposite way around?

these pictures kinda speak for themselves so i’m shutting my trap and leaving it up to your interpretations lmao

3- mayu and yuiji

the last part’s purpose was to close the door to yuiji’s past relationship with mayu and to open a new one heading to his future. their relationship is officially concluded for sure this time, as them being friends (which deserves an enthusiastic yes. yes to a healthy relationship!)

in the panel above, mayu talks about something yuiji has been worrying about for a while. she adresses an issue that maybe happened a while ago, and maybe it wasn’t talked about after their arc. but it’s an issue that exists regardless. in yuiji’s mind, they didn’t have a clean break-up at all, did they? when they were breaking up, the sentence that hit me the most was “i’m slowly hating the idea of love itself”. a way of thinking that’s simply enough to make one avoid romance in general, especially for a person like yuiji. this concern of his was never addressed after his arc with mayu (until now) but that doesn’t mean it ceased to exist. it simply wasn’t too obvious since yuiji’s focus was mostly on yamato’s hassles and to be fair, it’s been a while since we last witnessed his thoughts at all. this is why i loved how with mayu’s reappearance, those old books were reopened. a tiny detail maybe, but it made the whole story come together while also giving it a new life. her advice is also quite meaningful within itself. the best way to solve a problem is to directly go to the cause of it, but in this case, the cause, mayu came to him. not to make everything harder but to actually help him solve his inner issues that he had after their relationship. in that regard, her words hold the most power. and what she chose to say was that every person is different and thus every relationship also differentiate from one another. one bad experience doesn’t mean shit if in the end, he manages to find the person who’s right for him. but who is this ‘right person’ guy and do we know him?

so um, well we’ve been played in this part... i’m sure there are some posts as to what has been said here, i avoided those to come up with an opinion of my own. but still, there’s no clear-cut idea that comes to mind.

there are 3 criteria she stated

1-like someone who you can really like

2-you think things through to the point you over analyze so loving you is a bit hard (find someone who can love that side of you)

3-since you think things through, ......... i hope you can find someone like this

it’s most probable that she didn’t randomly mention something that didn’t have anything to do with her previous statements and thus those sentences play an important role. to explain where i’m coming from i’ll first focus on the first two conditions. the thing is, both of them are pretty straightforward about pointing to yamato. “like someone who you can really like” gives me flashbacks to the 8495 “i like you” lines we’ve got in the first 22 chapters. yuiji quite clearly enjoys yamato’s presence, his existence eases his mind and the way he’s open about his feelings makes yamato unproblematic for yuiji even though he’s basically ‘problems’ with legs and an ability to speak. “you tend to over analyze so loving you can be a bit hard” not much to say about this when that over analyzing part of yuiji is what yamato needed the most. to be fair, considering yamato likes calm and quiet types, there doesn’t seem to be one thing that he actually dislikes about yuiji’s personality. can’t say the same about his face though lmao. not the small and cute type at all...

for plot purposes the third condition is probably also related to yamato, and it should be more straightforward to the point it had to be concealed for now. it either a. makes yuiji understand his feelings for yamato or b. makes yuiji want to do something about his feelings that he’s already aware of and both of them results in yuiji finally starting to move. after all, while the first part of chapter 22 was to create conflict, the last part is to make progress using that conflict.

as for what she actually said, a lot of theories could be formed but i feel like whatever i say would be quite baseless no matter how hard i try. still, i’m pretty sure that’s what people expect to see the most so let me try my best for you guys. i cannot physically come up with more than two theories though... be aware that i’m diving into this blind and with no previous planning whatsoever so expect some bullshit lol

so for this one to actually work we need to make a lot of assumptions. the biggest one being, “yuiji isn’t sure about his feelings yet but he noticed the slight changes in yamato.” then we could make it work just barely. what mayu basically said was “since you think things through you should like someone who you really like” and “i really think you think things through. that’s why ..... i hope you can meet someone like that.” he should find someone who he really likes because he thinks things through, so shouldn’t he also find someone who really likes him for the same reason. something along the lines of “since you’re this way, you need someone who really likes you as well. i hope you can find someone like that.”

as to how i reached this conclusion, as i said the sentence should be an obvious hint at yamato in my opinion. if we make the assumption of yuiji being aware of yamato’s feelings, their conversation as a whole leads them to yamato. the guy who yuiji really likes, the guy that accepts him and really likes him as well. also hearing this from mayu plays quite an important role. it’s something big enough to make yuiji, who already has feelings for the guy, think a relationship with yamato is possible. knowing the way yuiji is, i’d say someone liking him is enough for him to consider that person as a love interest. he isn’t a hopeless romantic like yamato after all. that person being a male complicates things for sure, but with yamato’s existance around him the idea of two guys being in love probably doesn’t seem so unordinary to him anymore. that would also explain why that line was censored by the school bell. since it would directly hint at yamato’s feelings being known to yuiji. which is an info that should be confidential at this point????? i’m definitely spouting nonsense am i not lmao. i could probably point out around 7 things that doesn’t really make sense but i’ll just ignore my inner turmoil and focus on the positive for once in my life

so i do think yuiji knowing about yamato’s feelings is quite possible. i can’t really imagine him ever making a move without being sure of the other sides feelings towards him as of yet, or even noticing his own feelings to be exact. also with the way things are, yamato doesn’t seem to be the one who makes the final move. this is why i thought this theory (barely) made sense. with mayu as well, yuiji’s main focus was the feelings being mutual. “she liked me and i liked her so we just casually started going out.” the pronoun changing of course makes things more complicated but in the end of the day it doesn’t mean shit. what stops it from being “he liked me and i liked him so we just casually started going out.”?

and this theory completely depends on the translation lol. after mayu said [redacted] she also added “i’m not in a position to say this. given how you thought our relationship became a hassle”. when i first saw that blank space this was the first thing that came to my mind: “someone who you really like as a friend before a lover, i hope you find someone like that.” as i stated before, this is also something that directly points at yamato, as the close friend figure who yuiji feels really comfortable around. but a friend figure who could also develop feelings for him. and also, it would explain why mayu thought it wasn’t her place to say what she said. because even though they were friends first, their relationship still didn’t work out. but it wasn’t only yuiji’s fault, she continues, it was her fault too. that could be to reassure yuiji, after all they were friends too, maybe just not as close as they thought they were.

this is kind of a reach as well. she’s probably saying “it isn’t my place to say” purely because they’re ex-lovers but hey i’m absolutely stuck and i had two clues in mind lmao. and that was me considering the bell to not go on for too long (this isn’t a sports anime where they fly in air while scoring and somehow have a monologue for a whole episode lol) so my logic said she could only squeeze in a single sentence that was an absolute headshot. if i somehow manage to regain my dead braincells, i’ll be sure to come up with something else that actually makes sense:D

YUIJI

“i wish i were a guy. then yamato could fall for me.” after a pause, with such a sad expression too, yuiji refuses. most times, things that aren’t said mean much more than the ones that are. what kind of sentence fills that silence, i keep asking myself. is it him, thinking it’s inconsiderate to talk in such a way after all yamato went through? did the possibility of yamato actually having feelings for him strike after nacchan pointed it out?

or is it because he himself is now questioning what he’s feeling for a guy friend, that he refuses after a pause?

for a while there’s been one thing i was sure of and one that i wasn’t so certain about. i’m almost sure yuiji likes yamato and i wasn’t certain if he knew this himself. as i mentioned before, i was suspicious of him already noticing his feelings when in chapter 21, his general reaction to the whole confession was just out of the ordinary and the behavior he’s shown afterwards is way touchier than the usual though i still think i’m over analyzing that part lol. the fact that he’s got a whole conversation in this chapter to make him start moving, yamato deciding to give hibino a chance for sure and us not seeing yuiji’s thoughts at all for a while now only seem to support the fact that he knows. and also, unless mikeda causes a major shitshow that suddenly enlightens yamato to go and confess, that responsibility also seems to fall on yuiji’s shoulders as of now. that guy doesn’t seem like the type to confess two minutes after he figures out his feelings though. at this point i think he knows that his feelings seem to be different from before but he just isn’t sure about what he should do about it.

being interested in both genders, especially in a more conservative country usually leads up to a heterosexual lifestyle. many, including me, chooses the easier way out. when you can lead a so called ‘normal’ life where you’re accepted by the ones that are around you, choosing otherwise is just a hassle. but then again the heart wants what it wants. acceptance doesn’t guarantee happiness but a relationship with love doesn’t guarantee it either, at that point you measure your circumstances and decide for yourself. and that’s what i think is going through yuiji’s mind right now. yuiji seems to be interested in what makes a person rather than their gender. he wasn’t really able to differentiate between the two genders from way before, treating both women and men the same, which mayu didn’t like. he’s someone who questions if a straight guy could accept dating another guy (which means that isn’t exactly a straight guy lmao). just the prejudice causing him to accept that as a possibility while still wanting to remain ‘straight’.

i think yuiji knows a lot more than we think he does. that’s what i’ll stick with.

and as for the less serious part of this post

let me over analyze to my heart’s content lmao

here’s yuiji’s reactions to yamato being yamato over the chapters. in the first occurrence he’s simply surprised, at this point he isn’t blushing and only is taken aback a bit. while in the second stiuation he’s blushing a little but he’s still uncomfortable and leans back trying to get away. as for the last one, rather than being taken aback and changing his postion, he instinctively touches his cheek while blushing. more than uncomfortable he seems surprised even though yamato’s action is way more daring than before.

here’s yuiji single-handedly defeating inner homophobia, not having very straight thoughts, going thorough quite the excessive feelings that make him want to take revenge in yamato’s place and deciding to go watch gay porn the day he notices the existence of a gay guy for reasons unknown... what a guy lol

and so that concludes it, this post had too broad of a topic and to not make it too long a lot of things were cut (it clearly didn’t work) next time i’ll be more specific with my themes lmao

thank you so much for reading this far, take good care of yourselves and as always feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions! love you all :)!

#koimonogatari #tagura tohru #my poor brain isn’t big enough for this #and my poor hands are also hurting #but i’m finally done #well at least i’ll have it easy with english essays in the future lmao #i hope i didn’t just state the obvious :((( that always scares me #oh and #sorry for being so late:/#life lol #<33

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cywscross · 5 years ago

Photo

From @lightveils on Twitter (free to use wherever!). I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. I definitely have enough fics to fill it lol~

-0-

A Fic You Love Without Knowing The Source Material:

I was born for this by esama (Assassin’s Creed | Altair x Desmond | M)

Juno did her best to lead him to her preferred fate, but the end is coming and Desmond has doubts.

A Fic With A Premise That Shouldn’t Work But Does:

Proposing To Strangers by moonstalker24 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he'll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.

Peter doesn't know who this kid is, but he's cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He's not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn't really mind.

A Fic You’ve Reread Several Times:

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

A Fic You Still Remember Many Years Later:

All True-Hearted Souls by mardia (Temeraire | Laurence x Granby | G)

“For God's sake, if someone doesn't talk Laurence out of these constant heroics, I wouldn't bet a farthing on his chances; no, and not ours either.” Four times that John Granby helped save William Laurence's life. Laurence/Granby. Spoilers up to Empire of Ivory.

A Comfort Fic:

Nothing Improper by Bunnywest (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | G)

“How long since someone touched you, sweet boy?” Peter asks, his voice barely a breath in Stiles’ ear. “Days? Weeks? Months?” Stiles nods imperceptibly at that last one.

“After…after everything, after Allison,” is all Stiles manages to get out.

A Cathartic Fic:

Swing by ShippersList (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles wants to fly.

A Fic You’d Print And Put On Your Bookshelf:

Nose to the Wind by Batsutousai (HP | Tom x Harry | M)

While Harry had been content with his second chance, that didn't keep him from thinking what he could have done different, how many people could have survived if he hadn't been set on the very specific path he'd walked. Third time is the charm, though, right?

A Fic You Associate With A Song (x2):

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia) (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Full Circle by Nike Femme (FMA | Roy x Ed | T)

Edward Elric returns with amnesia. He has lived the past four years as Auric, a Gatekeeper. But there are some battles that only he can fight. Will his friends be able to awaken Ed, and what happens to Auric if they do?

A Fic That Inspires You:

Off the Line by esama (FFVII | Cloud x Vincent | T)

In which Cloud gets a Virtual Reality Dream Console – ShinRa's latest in virtual reality technology. Aaand everything pretty much goes downhill from there.

A Fic That Brought You On Board A New Ship:

Me and Mine by linndechir (Fast and the Furious | Deckard x Owen | E)

The last time they'd spoken, Deckard had told Owen that he was tired of cleaning up his messes. But the first thing he did after breaking out of prison was to take Owen to the other end of the world so they could lick their wounds and start planning their revenge.

A Fic You Wish Could Be A Movie:

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning) by westgirl (Hawaii Five-0 | Steve x Danny | T)

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

A Fic That Led To You Making Friends With The Author:

Begin and End by Rikkamaru (Log Horizon x HP | G)

This is how it begins: a boy rejected by his family, a boy reunited with his brother by his sister-in-law's intervention. A boy who found a family in an online game. But how will it end?

FREE SPACE:

Reverti Ad Praeteritum by Batsutousai (Fullmetal Alchemist | Roy x Edward | M)

Unwillingly forced to serve as a human trial for a crazy alchemist experimenting with time travel, Edward Elric finds himself standing across from Truth in the moment it takes his leg from him. Armed with the knowledge of what's to come and burdened with guilt for the choices he'd made as an adult, Ed sets out to fix every mistake he ever made and save every life they ever lost, no matter what it takes.

A Fic You’ve Gushed About IRL:

Designation: Miracle by umisabaku (Kuroko no Basket | M)

It's been three years since seven human experiments, called "Miracles," escaped Teiko Industries, alerting the world to the presence of super-powered children. Now they're finally integrating into society-- going to normal high schools, playing basketball, falling in love-- and trying to find out if it's possible to truly escape their past.

A Fic You Associate With A Place (have to self-rec for this one):

Safe Harbour by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles x Chris | T)

Peter didn't think he'd find a home here. He certainly didn't think he'd find a home with two other men.

Chris and Stiles prove him wrong.

A Fic That Made You Gasp Out Loud (kind of? it was suspenseful):

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | E)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

A Fic You Found At The Right Time:

slow increments by Areiton (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles)

Peter is enigmatic, egotistical, sometimes barely sane. He's sharp and cutting and takes more time to care for the pack than anyone.And sometimes, John catches him watching Stiles.

A Fic That You Would Read Fic Of:

if you try to break me, you will bleed by Dialux (Game of Thrones | Jon x Sansa | T)

It had been a slash across her chest from a White Walker’s sword that finally ended her life. Sansa’d landed in a puddle of her own blood, and she’d died quickly, quietly.

And then she’d awoken with a gasp, trembling, in a bed that had burned under Theon’s betrayal.

A Fic That Made You Laugh Out Loud:

The Path towards Unwilling Godhood by Sky_King (Bleach | Kisuke x Ichigo | G)

Ichigo has never had the most normal life, and this latest chapter of it is no different.

"I'm not a god!"

A Fic With A Line (Or Two) That You’ve Memorized By Heart:

Atlas by distractedKat (Star Trek | Spock x Jim | T)

Between what was and what will be stands James Tiberius Kirk, in all his fractured patchwork glory. Because saving the Federation was only the beginning.

A Fic That Gave You Butterflies:

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363 (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

A Fic That Embodies Something You Value In Life:

The Boy Sleuth by Shey (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is eight when he discovers a box of his mom’s old Nancy Drew Mysteries in the back of the guest bedroom closet.

A Favourite AU:

Love What is Behind You by KouriArashi (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | M)

Basically what it says on the label. Hunger Games type fusion. Stiles doing way better than anyone anticipates. Peter finds him intriguing. Ruthless, devious assholes working together to ruin bad guys, as the Steter ship is meant to be.

A Fic You Stayed Up Too Late To Finish Reading:

Of Dwobbits, Dragons and Dwarves by ISeeFire (The Hobbit | Fem!Bilbo x Fili | T)

Bilba has been a slave her entire life. All she knows of the outside world is what she sees from time to time outside the gates of Moria and the stories her mother used to tell her. Stories of a place called the Shire where her mother once lived and a placed called Erebor where, as far as she knows, her father still lives. Stories of dragons a thousand times larger, and more intelligent, than the beasts the orcs rode and of a strange concept called freedom where one was allowed to live as they wished with no one to tell them what they could, or could not do.

The stories meant little to Bilba. The only future she had was to live, and die, as a slave as countless number had before her.

And then the orcs dragged an injured female firedrake through the gates, her rider screaming obscenities behind her as he fought to reach her side...and everything changed.

A Fic That Made You Feel Seen (another self-rec lol):

i am addicted to death (so remind me what it’s like to live) by cywscross (Teen Wolf | Peter x Stiles | T)

Stiles is sixteen years old. He has already died seventy-eight times.

#Fic Rec Bingo #Bingo #Misc Fanfic Rec

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shiny-procrastinates · 3 years ago

Text

(re)Watching Magia Record S1 - part 11

part 10 here

Hello and welcome back everyone to our Magia Record s1 watch-along! Last time, we had the aftermath of the Endless Solitude's incident, found out that Mami is now part of the Wings of the Magius and left off with the reveal that one of Ui's (Iroha's sister, for those who have forgotten) might be another one of the Magius. What is this all about? Let's watch and find out:

Puella Magi Madoka Magica Side Story: Magia Record S1 episode 11

For some reason, we are now watching Tsukuyo's club practice. Wait- Akatsuki? That's not the surname I remember. We also see a photo of Mifuyu on the club room, so they must've been club mates.

Good question, Tsukuyo. Maybe she's waiting for Sana? (lies)

awnt the whole family's on the op now. Yachiyo is even smiling!

NOW we're back to where the other episode left off. According to Sana, she sometimes heard the Feathers talking about Nemu when they came to Ai's barrier to retrieve a witch. The girls then wonder if Nemu's being forced to work with them and Iroha says that maybe Ui's being kept captive by them too, with everyone falling silent at this.

Felicia asks if they can't just catch a Feather and force them to speak, so Tsuruno says if they should keep going after the Rumors them. While the three are wondering that, Iroha remembers about Tsukuyo, who she had seen in her uniform, and we are now back to the present.

Yeah right, are you saying you were actually triplets?

So Iroha decided to catch Tsukuyo after school. If Tsukuyo had a braincell, she could've left by a backdoor or used her magical girl powers to jump over the wall, but it seems she borrowed hers to Tsukasa today.

Tsukuyo stops Iroha from outing her as a Feather, so Iroha invites her to go talk somewhere else. Tsukuyo asks if she plans to interrogate her or worse but Iroha really only wants to talk.

After changing locations, Iroha seems to have told Tsukuyo about her situation. Tsukuyo asks why Iroha would go so far as telling her that, and Iroha answers that she needs to see Nemu no matter what.

After asking who between Tsukuyo and Tsukasa is the younger sister, appealing to their point in common, Iroha threatens outing Tsukuyo to the others if she doesn't let her see Nemu. Tsukuyo is shocked, asking if she's threatening her and Iroha says she doesn't care if she sees it that way. Damn, Iroha really means business when it's about her sister.

As always when it comes to Ui, Iroha's unusually pushy, and Tsukuyo ends up giving in and promising to at least talk to Mifuyu about it.

Later that day, the Mikadzuki girls minus Yachiyo are having a meeting in Iroha's room, and decide to get Yachiyo coasters as a thank-you present for giving them the mugs. So cute.

...that's some interesting club this school has.

The next day, Iroha meets up after school with the other girls to go buy the coaster. Can we talk about the fact there's a group chat just for watching over Felicia? lol

The girls go buy the coaster, and get interrupted by a witch. Guess we can add that to the things magical girls can't do in peace. No probs Tsuruno, there's really no run-time for this.

Look how happy she is. Please don't ruin this in the next scene, show (flag).

Back at the house, Iroha's waiting for Yachiyo's return on Tsuruno's instructions. She hears the doorbell ring and answers it immediately, thinking it's Yachiyo (really, Iroha, why would Yachiyo ring the doorbell to her own house?) but, shockingly, it's Mifuyu.

This probably situation couldn't get more awkward for Iroha had they tried. Iroha tries to show some hospitality, but Mifuyu takes the lead and the opportunity to rub in that she knows the place (and its owner) way better. What's with the attitude, Mifuyu? It's not like Iroha threatened your friend or a- oh wait, nvm.

Iroha asks what business Mifuyu has with Yachiyo today, and Mifuyu asks in return if she has to have some business in order to visit a friend... no, not business Mifuyu but normally you'd warn someone before dropping by, where's your manners? Iroha points out that she hasn't visited for a long time and Mifuyu explains that she didn't come because she knew Yachiyo wouldn't agree with The Wings of the Magius. She then explains she's actually there to talk to Iroha today.

Oh, she did it, she flipped Iroha's switch.

Mifuyu asks if Iroha wouldn't join the cult if she wants to know about Nemu, but Iroha questions Mifuyu's motive for recruiting her, to which Mifuyu says it'd be good for them because she'd be able to investigate about her sister without clashing with them. Iroha presses her about Ui, which she says she doesn't know, and Nemu, but Mifuyu does not say anything else.

...aaand the other girls are standing there in the garden while all this is going on lol

*peek*

Mifuyu invites the girls of Mikadzuki Villa to attend a lecture about what exactly the cult is doing... this is definitely a trap ain't it. At that moment, Yachiyo arrives. Oooh man...

Mifuyu apologizes for the surprise and makes to leave, saying this one unpleasant remark to which Yachiyo angrily replies right away.

Mifuyu provokes Yachiyo, saying how she went back to being her old self, which Yachiyo denies, eventually losing her cool and ordering Mifuyu to leave.

Tsuruno tries to check on Yachiyo but Yachiyo also leaves. Felicia's confused and Tsuruno tries to keep a bright mood, but the atmosphere is definitely ruined.

Yachiyo has went back to her room and-

ohhwoah what is that that's creepy!

So, uhh, Yachiyo is not well at all, she's now hallucinating. Whatever Mifuyu was trying to get at earlier it definitely got to her.

Seems the other girls aren't having a much better night either... but at least they're not hallucinating.

The next day, Iroha relays Mifuyu's invitation to the others. Yachiyo, however, refuses to take part in the conversation and leaves. She's very clearly still bothered about what Mifuyu said, and now she's avoiding her team.

Iroha and the girls have each their reaction to Yachiyo's behavior for a moment, but then go back to the matter at hand. Sana asks if Iroha really plans on going to the lecture, and she says she decided it'd be best to go, after thinking it over. They don't want to fight the cult either, so it shouldn't hurt to at least try to hear them out. Felicia says it's definitely a trap but that they can just break out together then, with Tsuruno agreeing. The two laugh, but doesn't it feel kinda forced?

...and then they realize no one knows where Memory Museum is lol

Mitama! Long time no see.

Iroha drops by the Coordinator's to ask about Memory Museum, which Mitama reveals is a Rumor that's being spread around Sakae Ward.

We then get a scene about the contents of the Rumor. Apparently, the Memory Museum archives memories (who'd thought!) and you can do things with them by ringing a bell, or something. But if you see one you'll end up influenced by it. (I refuse to comment about the goat)

In any case, Momoko points on the map the probable location of Memory Museum, to which Iroha thanks the two and goes back. After Iroha leaving, Mitama advises Momoko to tell "something", at least to Rena, since Kaede is still down, and Momoko says she knows. Quite the dark clouds are on the horizon.

No, literally. It's raining.

Back at Mikadzuki Villa, all the girls except Yachiyo are leaving to go to Memory Museum. Iroha warns Yachiyo they're leaving, but she doesn't answer. Ohh Yachiyo, please, are you sure you won't regret this later?

Iroha and co. naruto run on the rain to Memory Museum, meeting Chibi Kyuubei on the entrance. Yep, definitely Rumor. I might be going crazy but I always think that Iroha looks more her age with the raincoat, despite Madoka's wei- I mean, unique art style. Gotta be something with the proportions.

Also like this detail with Tsuruno's coat folded weird and Felicia's not folded at all lol

We are platformer game now

While climbing up the drawers, the girls talk about chibi Kyuubei, eventually raising suggestions on how to name him... which is funny because that's for the player to decide in the game, so we don't have an official way to call him.

Meanwhile, Rena's meeting up with Momoko. She starts complaining like usual, but soon hesitates when she reads the mood. Momoko says she thought it was time to tell her what happened to Yachiyo one year ago. Wait, what? We never heard about anything either.

But, well... we can guess.

Back at the Memory Museum, Iroha might be the unluckiest mahou shoujo ever, because

One of the Magius is none other than one of her sister's friends.

- x -

Aaand that's it for episode 11. That last scene is a bomb drop, but it's not like you couldn't see it coming from the moment they said Nemu was part of the cult. I mean, if one of the hospital trio was erased from existence, and the other was part of the cult, what were the odds that the last one would be normal? lol

Talking about this scene, I feel compelled to post here the corresponding still from the game, because the world was robbed of Iroha's surprisingly gallant back:

Seriously, when was she ever this cool?

On the other hand, Touka looks like a cute normal kid here which is about as far of the truth as we can get, so I'll give the anime credit for that.

All that aside, we are now approaching the end! With the Magius giving a lecture about salvation and Momoko having a talk with Rena, it's quite clear that the truth about magical girls is about to be revealed to our cast next episode. The big question here is: how will they react? Felicia specially shouldn't be very happy to learn this, considering what her wish was. Exciting!

We also have left to wonder what's up with Yachiyo. Why did what Mifuyu say affect her so much? We have yet to see her backstory, so Momoko talking might just gives us the answer to that question.

With that said, I'll leave it here for today. I can't believe this ended up even later than yesterday considering I start writing even earlier. Dammit short attention span, stop getting sidetracked pls. Tomorrow we'll be watching episode 11 that's looking really promising, so I hope you'll be reading me again then. Have a good morning/afternoon/evening and bye-bye!

#Magia Record #magireco #pmmm magia record #Puella Magi Madoka Magica

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guardianofjunmyeon · 5 years ago

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfics #exo imagine #exo pirate au #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfics #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #exo stories #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun stories #baekhyun pirate au

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thechosenburrito · 4 years ago

Text

Intro to Love: 1.3-I Can See Right Through You

Word Count: 1,039

Description:

Xochi was already shaken from the day before when a terrifying news headline sends her into a panic.

Author’s Note:

I’m gonna go ahead put the warning here in the author’s note that the main character goes through an episode that is similar to a panic attack so proceed with caution.

Previous Chapter: 1.2-Clinic Crashers

(C): Soooo what you're saying is you fell and conveniently hurt your wrist so you can't work on the project

(X): no lol. I can still work on it I just can't type very fast

I pulled up the project on my laptop and changed the title to "Proof that I can Still type" before emailing it to him.

I reached for my phone and winced.

Other hand, genius.

(X): Ok I sent you the document

(C): Cool thanks

(C): Ok gtg I'll work on this later

(X): later

I stood up from my desk and peaked out my dorm window again. I jogged over to the door and looked out the peephole, tripled checked the door was locked, and collapsed onto my bed. I was starving, but couldn't fathom going out in this state.

Guess I'm ordering delivery.

The pizza place a few streets down was having a special that made my thin wallet happy and placed an order. A 30-minute wait was plenty of time to start a load of laundry. It's not like I was doing anything productive anyway.

I dragged my dirty clothes to the laundry room. Luckily, not that many people want to do laundry at 9 pm on a Saturday. I started loading the washing machine while a small old TV in the corner droned on. It only ever showed the local news, with University approved messages in place of all the commercials.

The Anne Johnson Library isn't just for studying! Check out our website for the full list of clubs and groups the meet on the 3rd floor and expand your horizons!

I really need to check my pockets more often. There was a whole ass dollar in my pocket.

Join the Honors College Celebration of Diversity on Wednesday the 4th at 5 pm in Amicus Hall and celebrate what makes us special!

Ok, regular wash...

Breaking news as we come on tonight. A 22-year-old male was found dead just off North Juarez Street...

...warm cycle...and start.

Medical examiners have determined that the young man was struck by a vehicle and was pronounced dead at the scene. Witnesses say they spotted an unmarked white van near the scene beforehand. Medical examiners also have determined that the victim was in fact a Striker

I froze. It couldn't be. The unmarked van...and he was...no. I'm overthinking it. There's no way.

We go now to a message from the victim's family.

"He was worried someone was following him. The last thing he said was when he 'mom I'm scared' and I said 'don't worry mijo you'll be ok' and now he's gone."

I wiped my eyes and turned to the TV to see a woman doing her best to speak through her anguished sobs.

"I want the Solita police department to find who did this to our son and bring them to justice. Please! We need answers! We need peace!"

Held a picture of her son to the camera and my heart sank. It was the guy from the clinic!

Tragic news indeed. We'll keep you updated on this developing story. We'll be right back.

I leaned on the washing machine and clutched at my aching chest. I could barely control my breathing. It can't be true. It can't be true. It can't be true. Unless...

The University Counseling Center is available to all students for free. Remember: You are not alone!

... someone knows.

~~~

I've eaten many depressing meals in my life, but only being able to take a single bite of my favorite kind of pizza with a whole box right in front of me instantly earned the top spot. It even earned bonus points for having the theme to go along with it. Nothing says "I'm not okay" more than staring at my desk in a room lit only by a single desk lamp with drawn curtains and a chair wedging the door shut.

It took all my strength to not puke the single bite I took back up into the box. Somehow the aching hunger couldn't overpower the churning fear in my stomach. I let out a sigh and put the pizza in my fridge. I'd have to eat eventually.

My hands wouldn't stop trembling. My fear...it felt the same as it did all that time ago. They started to look funny and I quickly tucked them under my arms. I couldn't even bear the sight.

I relived that day over and over in my head.

If only I had put my phone in my pocket instead of leaving it in the bleachers. If only I had asked a Band Mom to grab it for me. Maybe if I'd realized sooner and I wouldn't've had to go back up there. I wouldn't've been there when the lightning struck and-

No, I shouldn't have even gone, not that I had a good excuse to miss my last homecoming game.

If I had been even one second slower or faster, I wouldn't have to hide. I wouldn't...

I could feel my knees starting to buckle. I tried to grab onto my bed, but my hand passed right through.

"No..."

I collapsed onto all fours before curling into a ball on the ground. I couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

I should feel lucky. Everyone else got chipped when they got struck. If it weren't for neglectful Band Moms thinking a fall down 10 rows of bleachers only constituted a lukewarm ice pack, I would've ended up in the hospital. They've would've seen something was wrong and the government would've descended on me like vultures to put a chip in me and treat me like some kind of lab rat.

I rubbed my shoulder. It was always the right one in all the news stories. I imagined what it would be like to feel a chip under my skin. I finally found the strength to look at my hands. I could see right through them to the ceiling, only barely being able to make out the silhouettes of my own hands. More tears began to flow.

I managed to slip through the cracks like I never existed, and when I still thought being Striker was cool, that's how I chose my nickname.

Ghost.

Next Chapter: 1.4-Thanks for Ghosting Me

a/n:

Things are picking up the pace! I’ll try to publish about 2-3 of these per day to try to catch up to my Wattpad so stay tuned!

#orignal writing #intro to love

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star-and-the-motherverse · 4 years ago

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Chapter 6 - Off She Goes

The Butterfly Who Lost Her Wings

Word Count: 3476 | AO3 Mirror | Previous | Next

Summary: Marco tries not to think about summer. A familiar face realizes he’s out of the loop.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ☾ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It didn’t really feel as if summer had ever arrived, to Marco, but it wasn’t like that was a trait unique to this particular one. When he was little, summer was the most exciting time of the year, but as he’d grown up, summer started to feel like it was getting shorter each time it came around. It had sort of lost its magic, in a strange way.

Not to say it was unwelcome—far from that, really. Summer break still probably was one of the better parts of the year. He got to spend a lot more time with his friends when they weren’t in school, and it was nice to take a couple months of break, not having to worry so much about the future.

But as days went by, he was starting to realize that he was… bored. By almost all of it. And it was strange, so strange. Really, this summer was equally as mundane as those that preceded it, and yet, here he was, feeling overwhelmingly alone.

You know exactly why that is.

Marco tried his best not to think about it—about her—as he went about his day-to-day life. But over half a year had passed since his everyday life had been upheaved. He’d practically forgotten what the bathroom countertop actually looked like when it was completely clear, or how small the guest room really was before it belonged to Star. They were little details that he was sure never would have stood out to him, not in the past. His painfully normal life had never stuck out to him like this until now, after everything that’s happened.

He missed the unpredictable nature of having Star as a housemate. The excitement, the danger, and everything else. He missed it so much.

Everything is still about Star.

He rolled over in bed, groaning, not able to find the motivation to get up just yet.

Some of his old friends hadn’t spoken to him in what felt like ages. Did he miss them too? He couldn’t tell. He thought that he did, but couldn’t even begin to think of how he might reach out. Jackie and—to a lesser extent—Janna were really the only friends from school that he regularly talked with anymore. He wasn’t exactly doing a good job of keeping in touch with anyone else.

Before he could think on it any longer, his phone vibrated. It took a surprising amount of effort for him to sit up and grab it off of bedside table. Reading over his lock screen, he saw that Jackie had texted him twice, the first message being from about an hour ago, and the other happening just now.

Jackie: Hey! How are u doing?

Jackie: Just realized you might still be asleep, sorry! xoxo

12:30 in the afternoon wasn’t a completely unreasonable time for a teenager to sleep in to, but Marco rarely ever stayed in bed for that long. He’d been up since noon at least—on a normal day, he’d be annoyed after wasting time, laying there and feeling sorry for himself.

Marco: Nah, I wasn’t. Sorry, missed your first text

Marco: It’s been a long morning 😅

Jackie: No worries :) Just checking in on u!

Jackie: Have u had lunch? Theres a food truck fair in town at the park, I think it would be fun to go!

Jackie: I bet theres a nacho truck somewhere, probably not as good as urs tho :)

He wasn’t really hungry at all, but he could certainly use the distraction. And he loved spending time with Jackie, more than anything. She always knew exactly what to say to make him feel better.

Marco: That sounds great. Did you want to meet there?

Jackie: Sure! Is 1:00 too soon?

Jackie: Also, hope u don’t mind but I invited Janna to come too!

Janna was one of the few people he’d managed to keep up regular conversation with, mostly over text. She didn’t give off the impression of a very social person, but then again, their unusual friendship probably didn’t make a lot of sense to outsiders, either.

Her reaction to the news of Star’s disappearance had been about in line with he was expecting, which wasn’t really saying much. Janna was an absolute wildcard, and he had a hard time figuring out what was going through her head even when things were normal. So her complete non-reaction, which might have caught other people off-guard, was just another Janna thing, in his mind.

She never liked talking about her emotions, and this would be no different. All he could really do was let her know that he was available to talk if she never needed to.

Marco: 1:00 is fine. And that’s cool with me

Marco: She’d probably find a way to invite herself if you didn’t.

Jackie: Lol ur probably right :P

Jackie: I’ll see you then💖

He let out a sigh and set the phone down on his bed, finally convincing himself to stand up. It wouldn’t take him that long to get ready to go out, mercifully. Such was the benefit of wearing a hoodie every day—even if the summer weather wasn’t exactly kind to him for it. He’d have plenty of time to get to the park and meet up with his friends, provided nothing weird happened.

Of course, as luck would have it, a lone laser puppy came wandering into the room, his tail wagging in excitement.

“Oh, hey… Sajak?” Star was the only one who could ever tell them apart, but he liked to believe he was getting better at it. “Yeah… Sajak.”

The puppy gave short little barks as he hopped around the room, coming to a stop in front of Marco and rearing up on his hind legs to demand his attention.

“‘Scuse me, buddy,” he said, carefully stepping over Sajak so that he could better reach his closet. “Sorry, but I’ve got things I gotta do today. No more lounging around.”

Sajak kept running circles around him and the room, occasionally pausing to stare at him expectantly. Marco tried to head out to the hall and towards the bathroom, but nearly tripped over the puppy as he rushed out in front of him before flopping down in front of the closed bathroom door.

“What in the world has gotten into you?” Marco asked, laughing, mostly to himself. He scooped up the dog with the intention of moving him. “You don’t feel like shooting me with a laser today? No?”

It was sort of a joke. He couldn’t quite remember last when the puppies had used their laser eyes. He wondered if it was related to whatever was going on with magic. It was a bit nicer to pretend that Sajak was just being particularly nice today, though.

Before he got the chance to move, a horde of laser puppies charged up the stairs, yapping excitedly. Barko Diaz brought up the rear, dragging in a multi-leash with him and nearly tripping over its cable several times as the lugged it up to the second floor.

“Seriously?” It was pretty cute at first, but now this was getting kind of ridiculous. “Guys, come on! I’m trying to do things!”

But he knew better than to tempt fate. These puppies were absolutely ruthless when it came to getting what they wanted. Truly, how could anyone say no to those adorable little faces?

He let out another low sigh. “Okay, okay, fine!” He’d had stranger mornings. If anything, he was getting exactly what he’d asked for with a distraction. His bad mood from the early morning was a distant memory by this point, which was a rather impressive turnaround.

He made his way slowly through what felt like a minefield of dogs, back to the side of his bed and picked up his phone once more.

Marco: I’m gonna be a little late, I have to take the dogs out on a walk first. They won’t leave me alone, haha

Jackie: Aww, so cute! That’s cause they love u so much ^^

Marco: Just doing my civic duty o7

Marco: See you in a bit ❤️

Jackie: 💖💖

“Settle down, Barko!” He cried out, once he’d turned his attention back to the excitable puppies. “I can’t put a leash on you if you won’t sit still!!”

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ♥︎ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

“What the heck?”

The phrase wasn’t really intended to be a question. It was more like... some sort of out-loud expression of Star’s ever-growing confusion. She’d only been free falling for a few seconds or so, but as she blinked, she somehow found herself standing in front of Echo Creek Academy. She had no idea how or why. She didn’t even remember landing on the ground, which she was sure would have injured her under normal conditions.

“School? Again?!”

What even were the odds that she’d end up on the school’s doorsteps? Unless, for some reason, it was doing that thing where it was in every place she looked—

Oh no… it absolutely was. There was another school right in front of her. When she turned away, there was another school there, too. She turned again and again. Another one, each time.

“You’ve gotta be kidding..! Why?! Why here?!”

She was most definitely somewhere inside of the wand. She shouldn’t have been that surprised—it was one of the most likely options that she’d narrowed down, for cob’s sake—but there was still something deeply unsettling about how she’d found her way back to this place. Not long from now and she’d probably start bumping into past versions of herself, following in her current footsteps like some sort of video game. Only this time, she had no idea of how she was supposed to get out. Hopefully Glossaryck would know to come rescue her if things got bad.

At least those weird disembodied voices hadn’t managed to follow her here. Somewhere along the way she must have lost them.

“I’m not going in the stupid school,” she grumbled, having nothing but negative memories associated with its strange, magical realm counterpart. It’s supposed to be summer! I do what I want!

Instead, she took to the sidewalk, putting her hands in her dress pockets and wandering along, looking around for a glimpse of something, anything else.

There certainly wasn’t any shortage of weird things to look at in the wand. Everywhere she looked were pieces of Echo Creek and Mewni, awkwardly stitched together in ways that didn’t make much sense at all. Street lamps and sidewalks wove between wells and Mewnian carnival tents. Spanish-style houses were dotted between the fields of corn that stretched out into the horizon, from what she could see past the school. Cacti and coniferous trees were growing side by side, as if they were always supposed to be that way. But even with everything going on, the looming silhouette of Butterfly Castle towered over all other set pieces, only dwarfed in size by the mountainous terrain that made up the background of this strange place.

“Ack!” she cried out suddenly, stumbling a bit as the ground beneath her transitioned from sidewalk to an empty parking lot—save for a single chariot parked on the other side. Just ahead of her, a little puddle rested on the uneven pavement, made up of that same green sludge that Toffee had left her to drown in.

She was so overcome with anger and frustration at the sight of it that she kicked it out of impulse. Just before her boot made contact with the puddle, though, she swore she saw a glimmer of light hiding within it—but not nearly soon enough to stop. When her foot landed back on the ground, and the puddle stilled, nothing was there.

A bit shaken, her gaze wandered upwards. The star-shaped insignia in the dark purple sky looked the same as it had before, split in half and all. But as she watched it, she couldn’t help but think it looked a bit dimmer. It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine, she wanted to say, but she never spoke it aloud, not entirely sold on the idea herself.

Was it fine? Is that really why she wasn’t running into any timeline duplicates of herself? She was still alone, sure, and maybe that was a good thing. There wasn’t any immediate danger, or anything like that. So why am I worried?

She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to quell her doubts.

Surely nothing had changed, right?

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:* ☀ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand as he made his way out of his room and towards the dining hall, headed out in search of coffee. He never was much of a morning person, and that fact probably wouldn’t come as a surprise to many people. He was never thrilled about having to wake up early for meetings, or summons, or whatever else, but that was something that sort of came with the territory of being a prince.

He’d been trying to avoid Star ever since he’d failed his anger management final exam, following the suggestion from his life coach. It didn’t make sense to him at first—how was he supposed to know when she wanted to talk to him again?—but he’d ultimately come around to Brian’s advice, even if it was with reluctance. It was clear that she still wanted space. He needed to respect that.

It sure was frustrating, though. Patience wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

He was drawn out of his irritated thoughts when a messenger demon nearly crashed into him as he appeared around the corner. “Watch it!” Tom snapped, but the messenger didn’t acknowledge him as he continued in a hurry down the corridor. He couldn’t help but be a bit curious why this particular message was so important that it demanded such prompt attention.

Weirdly, the demon suddenly skidded to a halt, whirling around to come back down the hallway and stop in front of Tom, bowing. “Master Tom! Would you perhaps know where King Dave would be at this hour?”

“Uh… probably in his office?”

“Thank you, Master Tom!” Just as quickly as he’d returned, he was off again, headed back down the hall.

That was weird, Tom noted. He watched the messenger instinctively head towards the throne room, only to remember where he was supposed to be headed and travel down the adjacent hall instead. It wasn’t often that they received news worthy of any interest, so before Tom could convince himself otherwise, he was chasing after the messenger—too intrigued to stop himself from prying. It’s not like I have anything better to do, he remarked inwardly, somewhat dejected.

Light on his feet, he followed the smaller demon at a short distance so that he wouldn’t be noticed. They both quickly arrived at the king’s office, and the messenger disappeared through the towering doorway. Tom was able to catch the conversation before it had really started, listening through the door.

“—uncement from the Butterfly Kingdom, my lord! The Silver Bell Ball has been indefinitely postponed!”

What? If he was being completely honest, he’d sort of forgotten that it was almost time for the Silver Bell Ball again. He had some fond memories of the event from over the years, but he wasn’t really the dancing type. It was more boring than anything else, and it was quite funny how Star agreed with him wholeheartedly. But she always made the point of how it was nice to see everyone again, and he supposed that was one of its better aspects. It would feel weird to not go to it every year.

His father’s thought process mirrored his own. “What?” Dave exclaimed. “But the ball is a yearly tradition! Why would they do such a thing?”

Tom overheard the messenger clear his throat as he unraveled a scroll. “In the words of the Queen and King themselves: ‘it is with great reluctance that we inform you of our decision to cancel the Silver Bell Ball this year. We believe that this is the right thing to do, as the ongoing magical fritz is a pressing issue that requires our full attention. This is a difficult time for our kingdom, and we sincerely thank you for your patience and understanding.’”

“A magical fritz? What in the Underworld does that even mean?”

“The announcement does not clarify it, my lord.”

Tom heard the groan of table legs against the floor as Dave adjusted his chair. “I know that the Butterfly Kingdom is quite dependent on magic, but enough to cause this level of instability? This is preposterous!”

Admittedly, he didn’t have that much of an understanding of how magic worked, either. Most of the cities across Mewni had close ties to magic, but none of them were quite as clear cut as the Butterfly Kingdom. They had been an incredibly powerful force for centuries. If something weird was happening with magic, Star likely would have been one of the first to notice, since she was in possession of the magic wand.

“There could be something more serious at play here…” The messenger demon’s words trailed off.

“In what sense?” Dave asked.

“Well…” He lowered his voice, and it immediately became more difficult for Tom to pick up on their conversation, much to his frustration. He had to listen incredibly closely in order to make out what was being said, leaned up against the door. “There’s a rumor going around that something happened to the princess.”

Tom swore he could feel his blood run cold.

“What do you mean?” the king asked. “Is she sick?”

“Something like that. People can’t seem to agree on what’s happened to her.”

Dave paused for several moments, likely thinking over the implications of the messenger’s words. “You think that the Butterflies are lying?”

“Not necessarily. Perhaps it is an indirect lie, or a lie by omission. Whatever is going on, it appears the royal family are trying to hide it while they're so vulnerable.”

It had to be impossible. Star must’ve been fine. She was on Earth! Who did this messenger think he was, to present such a baseless claim as an actual reality? No, he’d prove him wrong. He could call her, right?

Of course! Why didn’t I think of that sooner?

Before he could even stop to remind himself that, no, Star still needed space, he shouldn’t bother her, she’ll come back to him when she’s ready to talk again—he was clicking through his contact list and tapping on her displayed nickname. Starship. He’d never brought himself to change it from that.

“Calling Star,” read the text-to-speech voice, before it was cut off by a screen tear and replaced with loud, crackling static and white noise. Startled, he snapped his compact shut immediately to silence it.

“What was that?”

“Huh? I didn’t hear anything…”

“Oh… hmm. Sorry. Perhaps it was nothing.”

He wasn’t listening to them anymore—no, he was panicking. Fear was getting to him, badly. He hated this, he hated feeling scared. This didn’t make any sense! Even if something had happened to her, the call should have gone through. It still should have let him leave a voicemail, or something! Not static and nothing else!

This was strange, this was wrong. Something was wrong, and he had no idea what it was.

“—h well,” he overheard Dave start to speak again. “I suppose it’s not—“

Unable to stand there any longer, Tom threw open the door and came storming in, glaring accusingly between them both. “That’s not good enough!”

“Thomas!” Dave scolded, standing up from his chair. “What have I told you about eavesdropping on my conversations?”

Ignoring him, Tom stared directly at the messenger, his eyes fiery with anger. “What did you say happened to Star?!”

The demon flinched, scrambling for words as he stepped backwards. “I-I’m sorry, Master Tom! I truly wish that I had more information, but I don’t. So long as the Butterfly kingdom keeps its borders closed, I’m not sure we’ll ever get an answer…”

“Then do your job!” He snarled, clenching his fists. “Go out there and find the answer, and don’t come back until you do!”

“Thomas, that’s enough!” Dave stepped between them both. “We don’t know what’s going on, and that’s how it’s going to be for right now. It’s ultimately not our business, to know what’s happening in the personal lives of other royals.”

“It is mine!” Tom hissed. “I care about her! I need to know that she’s okay!”

But no matter how much shouting he did during that confrontation—and it certainly was a lot—he never got an answer he was happy with. No amount of sulking around the castle was going to change that. He wasn’t going to find an answer here on Mewni, not anytime soon.

#star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #marco diaz #jackie lynn thomas #star butterfly #tom lucitor #motherverse #tbwlhw #immersive

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years ago

Text

Witness State & Coup de Grâce | Feeding Habits Update #3

Hey People of Earth!

Before we get into this update, TRIGGER WARNING that this chapter discusses attempted suicide, mental health issues, animal cruelty, toxic relationships, and some nods to starvation, so if these are topics you’re sensitive about, I would skip out on this update!

This chapter was a slight nightmare to draft as it went through many, many iterations due to a real struggle to attain the desired emotional arc, and also because of a few logistical problems. In total, it’s about two and a half months of work as it combines some scenes from the old chapter two while also patching areas I cut with new content. Despite the difficulties, I am so happy I pushed through because the final product is quite strong. Here’s a scene breakdown:

Scene A:

We start at the “beautiful place” AKA the cove Lonan and Eliza frequently visit. The last time we’ve seen Lonan was at the end of chapter two, when he had his mild “public freakout moment” on the steps of a cathedral.

On the beach, he rests on the shoreline while reflecting on all the things he’s been tormented by since chapter two (wicked children, fathers, parenthood etc).

He sees an illusion of his father who is obviously not there (he’s very dead!) which propels him to converse about him with Eliza (remembering that Eliza and Lonan’s father were once romantically involved).

This conversation goes south as Lonan is able to unpiece some of Eliza’s mistruths until Lonan finally admits he wants to see his father again, insisting he’s still “alive” through the darkroom abandoned in Oregon him and Harrison failed to destroy in ch. 1 of Moth Work.

Scene B:

Lonan watches a moth through the window (that moth motif tho). Here he recounts what occurred at the hospital in ch. 2--the mother and her three kids taking him there, and then eventually being whisked away by Eliza.

Lonan heads to the kitchen to drink an acetaminophen but quickly realizes he’s not alone in the main apartment. His father sits on the couch looking over photo albums, each leaf holding the same photo: the postcard of Eliza that Harrison initially finds in chapter one of Moth Work. This vision obviously does not exist and is prompted by sleep deprivation but he doesn't know that lol.

Seeing this photo and his father prompt him to believe that he can only get away from this feeling of being haunted without Eliza in his life and further bad decisions ensue which I won’t get into!

I explained the meaning of the title HERE.

Excerpts:

Here’s the opening bit which is the most recent addition to the chapter:

The water is never murky, but today it doesn’t sparkle. Like it’s taken a low dose of cyan, it foams pale against the shore, an offering that wets the tips of Lonan’s shoes. He sits under the cove with one hand pressed into the current, each singular wave like a finger tottering over his veins. Today, their beautiful place is only an arched wall of stones and roily ocean.

Eliza is sunbathing. She lies on her back in the centre of the cove, where its mouth opens to a ceiling of sun. On the drive from the hospital, they both remained silent, Eliza’s hands taut like leather around the steering wheel, and Lonan’s head soldered to the cool window. Even when she pulled into the lot of a diner, named after a vague Canadian city or perennial flower, she said nothing, exiting the car to return to it with two crayon-coloured slushies, his red, hers orange. By the time she pulled up to the beach, her drink was half empty, his fully melted, urging against the brim of the cup. He followed her when she exited the car, parked against a row of pebbles, and placed his hand palm-first against the water the moment she lay against the sand and closed her eyes. Now, water puckers over the shoreline and between each of his fingers, a sort of absent massage. The water is a dull, vitamin-like blue. Warmer than he’s expected for the middle of February, pleasantly pruning his fingertips.

This is a direct continuation of that:

The sun has started to set. It flares against the horizon, its orange singeing the water’s blue. Like in front of the church, it fills him, its heat a comfortable grip around his throat. Though it should remind him to keep awake, its warmth lulls him closer to the sand until he rests his head just where the water laps. He knows it says nothing. He knows he has not slept in days. But to him, its rays nurse his skin like the loop of a nursery rhyme, and when he is parallel to the sky, he closes his eyes and welcomes the sun like it’s an infection. As colours pulse underneath his eyelids, water soaks the crown of his head, and it truly is like being buried at sea, just him, the sun, and the water at his perimeter.

The next chapter in this update is chapter four, aka Coup de Grace. This chapter was an absolute joy to write after struggling to get a handle on chapters two and three, and I’d consider writing this chapter to be, by far, the best writing sessions of my life. In this chapter I feel I really figured out the “crux” of Lonan’s character/his darkest secret, and that’s essentially that he believes all children are the wicked stems of adults, a belief he actually doesn't want to have, and actively combats until he sort of becomes absorbed by it. I learned a lot about my boy in this chapter and learning such important details about a character I’ve been writing for five years feels like a gift!

This chapter plays with form/the timeline a bit because we jump around on the timeline, almost like a movie that begins at the end. This was difficult to do in fiction, but I think I pulled it off, and am really happy with the chapter. Bear with me tho as this breakdown may be confusing:

Scene A:

We start with Lonan rapidly making his way to his father’s darkroom which sits in the middle of a forest. He’s brought supplies with him to destroy it.

The first line of this chapter mimics the first line of Moth Work, which you’ll see below.

Scene B:

We jump back in the fictive past to the morning that would’ve occurred right after the end of chapter three. Lonan goes about his morning routine but is disrupted by a loud thud from outside. Anya, the woman he’s befriended from chapter two, has jumped from the roof of the apartment complex. This attempt is unsuccessful.

His first reaction is to run to Anya’s apartment to see if her son, Joey, is okay.

Scene C:

Less of a scene and more of an internal monologue of Lonan reflecting on Anya’s attempted suicide, and that he feels in some ways, she’s administered her own “death blow”.

Scene D:

Eliza takes Lonan to his father’s cabin to “get him away” from what’s happening at the apartment since he’s really taking the news badly.

Eliza tries to get Lonan to eat something because he hasn’t eaten much since Anya’s news, and they have a conversation about Eliza’s motives in volunteering Lonan to help Anya in the first place.

Scene E:

A flashback where 14-year-old Lonan and his father are at the cabin, about to kill a fish using the ikejime method. His father has informed him the fish is dead, but Lonan knows this is very much a lie.

Scene F:

The fictive present, where Lonan lies on a couch inside the cabin, Eliza tending to a fire. He has a bad feeling (he’s right about that lol)

Scene A2:

We continue the events from scene A as Lonan enters the darkroom, only to find out it’s been cleared out save for three pictures hanging that tell a story and reveals a lot of Eliza’s secrets.

All you need to know about these photos is that it makes their romance feel somewhat like a lie lol.

Eliza finds him at the darkroom despite telling him not to go alone, and Lonan tries to process the new info/secrets revealed.

Scene G:

In the fictive present, Eliza cuts off Lonan’s hair and together they burn each weft. They discuss a few things (his father, the women he’s befriended, future children, mating habits of the praying mantis)

Scene E2:

Back to the flashback where Lonan and his father have killed, cleaned, and eaten the fish. They rinse their hands off in the lake before his father knocks them both into the water.

Excerpts:

This is the opening, ft. the mirroring first line which makes me a lil too giddy:

The darkroom isn’t haunted, but a dead man owns it—and he knows exactly where to find him. Through the woods, Lonan brushes past bushes of gooseberries and wild rhubarb, a gas can sloshing rhythmically in his hands. In his teeth, he holds his flashlight so its beam brightens the pathway. It is not yet dawn.

This is a description of the darkroom that leads to the end of the scene:

He shouldn’t know where he’s going. The forest is so dense and unanimous, a duplication of itself, nothing more than repetitions of the same tree, same flower, same stream. But he doesn’t need to see to know where his feet take him—he doesn’t even need the flashlight. He’s memorized the direction to the darkroom like the pattern of veins on his own arm.

He is not surprised to see it still stands. As if protected from rain, thunderstorms, the fallen trees that crisscross at the walkway; it’s always been a divine place. The air is damp, and particles of mist cling to his throat.

He sets the gas can in front of the steel panelling that makes the door with urgency. He does not need to rush but cannot take his time.

Wildflowers burst from in between the cracks of concrete the shed sits on and he knows each species like they’ve been bred in his blood. Wax flowers, thistles, clusters of asters he’d sometimes gather as a boy and leave as offerings in the heart of the forest’s most prominent clearings, like an offering, or a ransom.

Lonan kneels once the first thread of sunlight leaks between the whisper of trees. He is familiar with this forest, the cabin not too far away, the messages the water speaks to him when he sits at its edge most nights, why the darkroom was his father’s favourite place and why it always will be. So when sunlight hits his eyes, he presses his fingertips against his lips, and looks to the sky for mercy.

Lonan watching his fave TV show that leads into Anya’s jump:

He turned the television onto its usual program while on his last three mandarin segments and looked on as a herd of caribou dotted a waterway. They moved like the current, pattering along the prairie, worriless. He should have heard the part where a wolf caught up to the herd, the same wolf that would later go on to single out a young fawn and silence it with two teeth in its throat like bullet wounds. He should have seen the part where the prey was consumed, its flesh a desperate shade of red. But the thud distracted him. Maybe not even a thud, more like a crash. A sound he felt in his temples, a ringing in his ear, like a chickadee. Lonan set the skin of the mandarin onto the coffee table and stood slowly. It’s his body that moved him, no force of the mind, toward the balcony. In one movement, he unlocked and shoved open the glass sliding door, rucking it forward with his body weight when it stuck. On his lip, he tasted citrus and salt, a mixture of fruit and sweat.

He heard death before he saw it. The way each identical sliding door of the apartment units around him shook open, just like his. What a woman on the sidewalk declared, her tone so shrill, he couldn’t tell if she was delighted or horrified, something like, “I thought she was a bird—I thought she was a gift from heaven.” The garbled sound of an infant, confused by the sound concrete makes when a human batters it.

We get Lonan’s first response and some Joey and *that stunning motif tho*:

Lonan did not deescalate the stairs to the ground floor to join the growing crowd. He did not call an ambulance or rush to perform CPR. He ran upward, scaling flights of stairs as if airborne, with little effort. Once he reached her unit, it was the tin of madeleines he noticed first, sitting unopened, untouched, dare he thought, neglected on her welcome mat. It’s this that lulled him, freezing him in place for a moment. He recollected nothing of bringing the madeleines to her the evening previous, of leaving them neatly tucked against her straw welcome mat. Innocently idle there, his gift unrecognized.

Joey sat on the couch. The television was on, projecting technicolor polygons onto the boy’s face. Lonan did not register what it was he watched, which animated shapes pounced and danced on screen. Joey did not cry at first. He sat, staring wondrously at the screen like it was a trap door to a different dimension. The socks secured around his miniature feet looked freshly ironed, and his hair smelled like his mother did when Lonan first met her—like coconuts.

The buzzing of onlookers and neighbours sounded like the caribou running. A constant drumming of a snare, a guttural kind of ambience. He thought of Anya the day previous, her desperate excitement to paint over the wall, the way she mixed that orange juice drink, incredulous, experienced. He thought of the sourdough he never picked up, and there on the counter they sat, one torn down the middle like it was ripped bare-handed, the other skewered with a chef’s knife. He thought of Anya’s hospitality, her coy excuses to help them both avoid embarrassment, the way each part of her apartment transformed into gold. He thought of their conversation, Anya’s initial instruction when she left him alone with her son. So when Joey cried, Lonan knew exactly to reach for the remote and tick the volume up until his sobbing quieted, like the last few minutes of a rainstorm, passionately loud, then stunningly silent.

Here we briefly reference 2 Kings 21:6: “And he burned his son as an offering and used fortune-telling and omens and dealt with mediums and with necromancers. He did much evil in the sight of the Lord, provoking him to anger.”

Anya will never be the mother she once was, in the capacity she longed to be. Joey will grow up without a father and with a mother who cannot mother him in the ways she’d always hoped; he’ll have no one to recreate. That is the real loss—what could have been. Anya burned herself into an offering, administered her own kill shot, provoked her own fate; either life or death, and her fate chose neither.

The following mirrors something Lonan’s sister, Reeve, says in Houses With Teeth about hunger:

The day Anya jumped from her balcony onto the sidewalk below, Eliza took Lonan to his father’s cabin. In a daze, he watched her pack a bag with enough things to tide them over for a month, and in that same daze, they reached the cabin before sunset. That night, Eliza rifled through the cabinets to put together a meal, and her findings assembled as a can of tuna topped with crumbles of saltines—cheap take on a deconstructed pâté.

She served him his dinner on a set of plates he vaguely recognized—terrazzo with a scalloped edge, maybe held a scrambled egg or halved tomato when he was a child. He stared through the French doors, down to the water that padded below. Even when she tried some for herself, putting on her enjoyment in exclamations like “It’s a culinary masterpiece. Refined. Daring. A little spectacular,” she couldn’t convince him to eat. His appetite disappeared when Anya fell from the sky; there would be no hunger as penance.

This is the fish flashback:

Lonan knows the fish is not dead. He is fourteen but not naïve. Sun warms the back of his neck; maggots shimmer over the gummy slick of the water’s surface. Today is what someone would describe as the perfect day. Trees whisper secrets amongst the spines of their leaves. Birds teeter on the neck of birch trees. A butterfly dusts its wings of the shore’s sand and nips at his childish knuckles.

The fish is not dead. This is fact. In his palm, it expands, its gills like the crescent cut of the moon. The fish is not dead. Its mouth kisses the air like it’s a divine thing, each blip of its lips greedy, like the air tastes of gold. The fish is not dead. Its scales grate against Lonan’s palms, shimmering, its prettiness its last defense mechanism. The fish is not dead.

More with this fish memory:

“It’s dead. It does not even know the taste of life. Why save it?”

“I don’t want to save it,” Lonan says. His father’s wedding band digs into his forehead. To an onlooker, it may look like he’s about to dip him forward into the water, not a drowning, but a baptism.

“What do you want to do with it?”

Mourn it, he wants to say. Pity it. Sacrifice it.

The water whistles ahead of them, all the uncaught sunfish gloriously slashing naively in the water. They are unaware of their future demise, and the current demise of their loved ones, bodies all piled into the net as if on display. Lonan’s eyes sting with lake water, a streak of it dripping onto his lip so when his father reaches over him and secures his hand like a marionette around the screwdriver, he tastes salt and doesn’t stop tasting it.

And the end of part A of the fish memory that gets a little gory:

“It dies for us,” his father says, his voice dampened, like the distant blip of the lake. “So we give it mercy in return.”

As the screwdriver’s tip lowers closer to the fish, Lonan licks his top lip and asks, “Why do we need to show it mercy if it’s already dead?”

“Le coup de grâce. A death blow. To end the suffering of the wounded.”

“But it’s already dead.”

“Even the dead still suffer.”

Lonan does not register when the screwdriver impales the fish’s brain. He does not register when his father uses both their hands to slit the fish’s gills with a hunting knife or register the warm spurting of its blood up their knuckles. He stares at the fish’s glasslike eye, and as he and his father gut and scale the fish, puppet and puppeteer, he imagines the way he’ll feel with its head in his mouth.

Here’s a section from the fictive present:

Seven days after Anya jumps off her apartment’s balcony, Lonan lies on a pig’s leather couch his father once towed in from the city, a damp washcloth doused in eucalyptus essential oil pressed to his forehead.

At first, he fears the blinking comes from stars and that the cabin’s roof has been removed. But as he comes to, he smells it, the earthy crack of wood, the wisp of smoke, and he knows the light that pulses is a fire.

Lonan opens his eyes. As he’s thought, he lies on his father’s couch, essenced water dribbling down his temples from the washcloth. Eliza sits hunched on the stone of the fireplace’s ledge, her shoulders ripening under the orange heat. She’s burning something. The scent of scorched film is not unfamiliar to him. Like his mouth, it is dry and acrid, like the lick of a battery.

“You promised,” she says, as if sensing he’s awoken. Lonan does not move, even as the eucalyptus soak drizzles into his eyes.

Eliza no longer wears the parka. She’s stripped to a pearl-coloured camisole, her feet bare and propped flush against the brick. Glossy red lacquer colours her toenails, reflects the light in ovular patterns along its surface.

“A false witness shall be punished, and a liar shall be caught,” she says. “Proverbs.”

Going to leave this tea here casually:

The darkroom was misplaced. This was Lonan’s first thought when he yanked open its steel panel door and entered to reveal its contents. He did not need the glimmer of a flashlight to confirm his instinct. This was not the same darkroom he’d known as a child, or the darkroom he found his sister in, or the darkroom him and Harrison tried to destroy. Everything was slotted away, puzzled back into a configuration so unknown to him, so wrong to him, that the organization felt more like war.

Unlike when he and Harrison had last stepped foot inside of the darkroom, lugging the gas can along with them, not unlike what he did then, the photos that used to string clothespinned in no justifiable order were now taken down. The bricks of photo paper forming a maze around the developing tables, the amber bottles of chemicals—all of it, meticulously put back in places Lonan knew they never had. Under his boots, he did not feel the crunch of glass or slip of forgotten negatives. The darkroom had been swept clean.

Lonan dropped the gas can at the darkroom’s entrance, and removed the flashlight from between his teeth, thumbing it off. He worked his way around the shed like he’d been wounded, staggering, stopping to hold himself upright. Nothing was in its rightful chaos. Expired film lay stacked in a waste bin he’d never seen before. Bad paper cuts had been shredded. The photos he’d been so accustomed to not looking at, all gone, except for three, evenly clipped on the last three lines.

In the distance, an eagle cawed. The stream trilled. Tadpoles cricketed along the embankment.

Lonan approached the remaining photographs like they’d electrocute him. They were displayed one after the other, each on its own line. The first, a picture not unfamiliar to him. Eliza standing in front of a colourful street of vendors. Her loopy signature on the back a jagged indication of where she signed it, most likely wobbling on a train, or in the back of a taxi. He picked it off its clothespin and held it up to a hole in the roof where sun bled through. Nothing had changed from the photo since he’d taken it last year, and he was almost grateful she’d left it fossilized when she took it from his pocket. His gratitude did not last by the time he saw the second photo, so unexpected, he had to glance twice.

His father stood arced slightly behind him, his hands not visible. Lonan knew where they were—one secured around his forehead, the next urging a screwdriver up a stone. Sun scalded the water’s surface, wrinkled it with light. He remembered the song his father whistled as he fried the sunfish on a birch branch, truly less of a song and more of a reminder as he hummed up and down each minor scale, not once stopping to check his work, like he knew better than any instrument.

Lonan plucked the photograph off the line and held it closer. Though he was shaded mostly by his father’s back, he knew they were both in it. He shouldn’t have been surprised when he turned it over to find that same looping signature inked onto the back, smudged, like she’d forgotten to let the ink dry before handling.

It would’ve been easier to think about the second photo’s implications had he not seen the third. He could’ve excused it—a shot taken by a neighbour, though the cabin was remote. A shot that fired itself, the camera discarded on the ground, though it was taken at eye level. A shot signed with familiar initials E.L.K, as if those letters could stand for anything but Eliza Louise Kiang. It would’ve been easier to excuse her presence. To excuse her knowledge of him, to forget she’d ever told him she didn’t know his father had children, that she swore she’d never have been with him had someone informed her. It would’ve been so much easier.

The last photo was not a photo at all, not in the same capacity at least. The ink had gone purplish from the elements but swirled, almost horror-like around the photo’s frame. He could have pretended the white swishes of colour were strands of lace, or the awkward scratch of photo blur. He could’ve pretended to not understand. But there it was. The light funnelling down on the black and white shape so he understood it was not a photograph he looked at, but a child.

I have already shared this line a few times, but it’s my favourite thing I’ve ever written oops!:

When she looked at him, she grinned, and he turned his face to the ceiling where a hole in the roof caved around a branch. The sun’s eye disappeared behind the bullet of the wood, leaving only its outer edges to skirt the sky, a veiling that felt less like an eclipse, and more like evidence of an exit wound.

Obligatory “I’m the grass” shoutout:

“All people are like grass, and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field,” he says without once reading what’s actually written on the page. “Isaiah.”

“Isaiah was onto something, don’t you think? Poor grass, poor flowers—they all die in the end, but they have their God. They have their saviour. Everything dying except for God and his word.”

Eliza cuts another clump of hair. The fire welcomes its feed with haste.

“What does this have to do with children?”

“Do you feel you’re the God of these women, Lonan? Are you their saviour?”

Lonan shakes his head. “I’m the grass.”

And to finish:

After they eat the fish, Lonan and his father rinse their hands in the lake. This is respect. This is self-ordinance. This is a holy act.

His father stoops farther into the stream than he does, water nipping his knees. The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, the sky now coloured periwinkle, silvering his hair. The taste of sunfish coddles Lonan’s tongue, oiled and briny with saltwater. They share a bar of orange glycerin soap, its scent cloying, like a rotting fruit basket. His father peels the bar between his palms, scrubbing until his fingers disappear under suds.

That’s it for this update! Hope y’all enjoyed! :) I’ll be back soon to update on chapter 5!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #fostered #mothwork #feedinghabits

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winterysomnium · 5 years ago

Note

just realised i forgot the ship WangXian kiss print #18

slides in five months later hi hello I have answered the prompt even tho it took me like half a year I’m so sorry

it also wasn’t supposed to be this long but it sorta ran away from me and wherever your fic goes you gotta follow tbh lol. thank you so much for prompting! ♥ means so much to me.

AO3 link here

(tumblr kinda messed up the format so it might be easier to read on AO3 honestly)

—

the borders of you (untouched);WangXian; 5,900+ words;

Wei Ying creates a talisman that’s supposed to keep all the fierce corpses and beasts away. Problem is, it keeps away everyone, living people included. And worst of all? It’s not going away. (prompt 18:kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap)

—

It’s not that Wei Ying has messed up.

The ward works,works well, as it has kept Wen Ning about four feet away from him from everyangle and he hasn’t been able to break through the barrier, not even after theadded strain of several fierce corpses that have been roaming the remote villagefor days on end.

Therefore, his inscription can’t be incorrect in thatsense, no. It’s just … the ward works toowell, is the thing.

When the paper burned up and the hour mark has passed,Wen Ning is still unable to get anywhere nearer, bounced back against the invisiblebarrier like a stone, skipping across the surface of a lake. Not only that: noone else has been able to either. Notany of the villagers, their grateful bows directed towards the Lan juniors andtheir liquor bottles towards Wei Ying, not any of the juniors and not even LanShizui, increasingly worried the more the sun dips, low into the horizon.

At last, knowing that he must have made a mistake ortwo somewhere, Wei Ying watches as a birdcan’t sit on a branch when he stands underneath it, watches on as the curiouscat that has been sniffing at the robes of every unknown person, keeps pawing atthe barrier with a bit of irritation at the tip of her tail.

It isn’t trulyworrying Wei Ying yet. He can touch the liquor bottle and drink from it justfine, and some talismans were known to dissipate after half a night’s time at earliest.Maybe he added a stroke too many to his blueprint, strengthening and prolongingthe effect inadvertently.

He couldn’t have accidentally created a full on permanentbarrier, he knows that, because thereis no visible or spiritual writing anywhere on his clothes or his person andhis paper prototype has been ashes as soon as he surged his powers through itsform.

So he convinces the juniors to stay for dinner andsettle in for the night; it’s past everyone’s bedtime and the comforting scent ofsoup and roasting meat painfully flares the hunger in Wei Ying’s stomach,overriding any lasting thoughts of worry or anxious fears.

His mood doesdip slightly when he realizes he can’t truly share the table with anyone, thesweet taste of the sugar spun fruits souring in his mouth with every lonelybite. He’s gotten too used to this easy kind of company, to Lan Zhan’s quiet,steady presence, his fingers never too far from Wei Ying’s aid, from gettingtangled up with Wei Ying’s own. He’s gotten used to the bundle of juniors followinghim around during the classes he teaches (to Lan Qiren’s unending chagrin) andhe almost misses JingYi’s – a little tooloud – voice right next to his ear.

His exasperated huff must reach all the way across thetavern, because Lan Shizui stands as close as he can to his table now, hiseyebrows etched with something nervous and small. He pauses as he tests the wardonce more, with the tip of his shoe.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t head back right away,Senior Wei?” he asks, ever considerate and Wei Ying sees Lan WangJi’s teachingsfilling out A-Yuan’s shoulders, the chambers of his heart. It makes him missLan Zhan suddenly, with a pang of something sore, like swallowing a painfulgulp of water, feeling it travel all the way down his throat.

He rubs his sternum through his robes, the phantomfeeling making him feel silly (they’ve been gone for barely a day and a half) as he shakes his head.“There’s no point in leaving this late. We’ll arrive too late for breakfast ifwe do, anyway,” he reasons, but A-Yuan’s face stays cautious, eyebrows drawn. (He’stoo good of a child, honestly, Wei Ying thinks.)

“What if theward isn’t gone in the morning?” he asks and Wei Ying drinks another cup ofwine, just to dissipate the distant, cold restlessness stuck at the back of hisskull. There’s no need to be worried, yet.

But it must be a question that’s not just runningthrough Shizui’s mind, because the white robes of the juniors have gotten muchcloser now, JingYi’s questioning look clearly convicting him of eavesdropping,alongside with the others, craning their necks in a – fully inconspicuous –way.

Wei Ying feels a smile graze his face as he watchesthem quietly strain their ears, despite how obvious they are, how much he stillhas to teach them.

(Are they even trying to hide their curiosity at all?)

“Then it won’t matter if I find out here or in theJingshi,” he decides to come back to the question, answering it firmly, decisionmade.

(It’ll just worry Lan Zhan if they arrive and theeffects are not gone, he adds, for only his heart to hear.)

He gets up, brushing out his robes, stepping aroundthe table. Worrying Lan Zhan is one of the last things he ever wants to do.

Copying his movement, the juniors stand up from theirempty bowls and reserve a tired bow to the owner as they head up the stairs totheir bedrooms, quiet enough not to wake anyone else. Shizui and JingYi are thelast in line and they reluctantly look over at Wei Wuxian as he stands at theentrance of his own room, the dissatistified look on JingYi’s face so much morevisible than the slight crook of Shizui’s eyebrows, the corner of his lips.

JingYi opens his mouth, undoubtedly to argue Shizui’spoint again in a more, well, JingYiway, but Wei Ying is faster, interrupting him as soon as he takes in a slightlybigger breath.

“Go to bed. Worry about the report you’ll have towrite, if you want to think about something,” he tells them, with a smile thatis just a little bit too fond and after a moment of decision between arguingfurther and just letting it be for the night, they slowly step over thethreshold of their room, closing the door behind them, softly and slow. WeiYing lets himself collapse onto the single bed of his, a little too stiff underhis weight but clean and with thick covers and a pillow so soft it begs for himto stick his face in.

He really should take his own advice, he thinks as ayawn cracks through the bones of his jaw; his thoughts scattered across theheavy set of his mind. He thinks of Lan Zhan, of a symbol he might have torewrite on the talisman, of Lan Zhan’s chest rising and falling, the lullaby ofbeing there that he plays to Wei Yingevery night.

He doesn’t recall anything after that.

—

Wei Ying knows he’s stalling. He’s decided to stay inCaiyi Town for lunch, sending the juniors ahead and idling about the riverbank, picking all the deserted spots so as not to raise too much attention,twirling Chenqing and wondering just howhe’ll explain this to Lan Zhan so that his mouth and brows don’t curl into thatconcerned shape like they do whenever he does something detrimentally stupid,usually to himself.

He doesn’t get far beyond the edge of the town after hefinally starts up the journey up themountain when he spots him, the afternoon trailing across his robes, awakeningthe woven patterns as Lan WangJi walks towards him, regal and ethereal asalways; even more so with the sun gingerly touching his features between thetrees.

(The same sun feels suddenly way too warm on WeiYing’s own neck.)

“Lan Zhan!” He greets him, happily, despite theprevious moments of avoidance: something about this man just reassures him tothe deepest parts of his soul, calls him to be paid attention by.

Lan WangJi pauses, stands at the exact border of thecharm, tracing the unseen outlines with his eyes before he carefully extendshis fingers, the tips pressing against the ward.

“Wei Ying,” he answers, in a tone hard to describe:relief, concern, affection, each atthe tip of a different finger, a different note.

(Wei Ying’s heart is an instrument, lovingly played.)

“Don’t look so worried, Lan Zhan! My dearestHanGuangJun,” Wei Ying smiles and it’s never been so difficult to keep still,to keep away from that beautiful face in front of him, kissable and dear. “I’mperfectly fine, see? Aiya, the children must have been telling you all kinds ofgruesome stuff, haven’t they?” he twirls around just to show he can, thatthere’s nothing hurt or aching (besides his poor heart, trying to press itselfout of his ribcage, pulled towards Lan WangJi’s own).

Lan WangJi watches, a stern look slowly seeping intohis features, a sigh buried deep within his lungs. He’s not fooled and Wei Yingknows this, all too well.

“Shizui said no creature living or dead can get closeto you,” Lan WangJi answers and an aborted twitch of his arm belies the intentto hold, to try to defy the limits of whatever Wei Ying has created, despitethe impossibility of it all.

(It’s more painful than Wei Ying imagined it would be,if he’s honest with himself.)

(He’s not.)

He lets out a sigh, tracing the invention he’s stuckin through the air, each stroke a confident memory. “I must have strengthenedthe effect of the charm with a stroke too many somewhere. I already have a fewideas to try out,” he promises and while Lan WangJi still doesn’t look happy, probablythinking: how many have you tried already,unsuccessfully?, he nods anyway, aligns himself at Wei Ying’s side as closeas can be, always beside him, always a guardian of Wei Ying’s own.

“Let’s go back,” he says and the smile Wei Ying feelsblooming on his own face is positively hurting his cheeks. He grins, relieved. “Let’sgo home, Lan Zhan,” he agrees, pleased at the warm hue enveloping Lan WangJi’sears like little buds of flowers.

No touches needed for Lan Zhan’s ears to go warm, henotes, fondly amused.

(Thoroughly in love.)

—

Neither of them can sleep peacefully that night. LanWangJi forfeits his bed to sleep at the other side of the room, even when Wei Yinghimself protests profusely against it (to no avail).

If it’s the unfamiliar scenery of their empty bed orsimply being too far away from Lan WangJi himself he can’t tell, but not evenWei Ying’s usual bedtime can lull him to sleep. He misses the satisfied achesof a night well spent, of loving and being loved in Lan Zhan’s arms and feelingeach of his touches bitten into his skin; the only pain he’s currently feelingis the unpleasant twitch at his back as he slumps over the table, scribblingnonsense into his notes.

So maybe he hasmessed up. He’s studied every stroke’s direction and count on his blueprint,has corrected all the places he felt unsure about and yet, not one modificationhas worked one bit. He’s cast tens of reverse charms, trying to unweave the spellhe’s trapped himself in but nothing has changed: the space he’s isolated inhasn’t shrunk and not even one of the bunnies has been able to hop through tonibble at his robes (he’s been baiting them with carrots all evening so thatthey would actually get near enough to him, too).

Wei Ying doesn’t think he’s an impatient person. He’snot patient per se, either, but he’s able to withstand things. To persevere.He’s lived through enough to know that he’ll thrive in places others go to to becondemned and damned: he’ll root through the soil and he’ll rise like a lotusflower, crawling through to live, to resurface, to be plucked by Lan Zhan’skindness, by his heart.

Perhaps Wei Ying’s been spoiled. Spoiled by Lan Zhan’svery own hands and very own warmth: he simply doesn’t want to struggle anymore.He wants instead, yearns, he wantscomfort and softness and affection and he’s frustrated when it’s this close yetout of his reach altogether. It’s in the very room they share, in the robesthey store in the same place, in the kisses they wear on each other’s lips;they’re two strings bound together.

And now they’re like two parallel rivers, longing toget closer but held apart by earth itself, by soil and trees, the miles inbetween.

Wei Ying must have been worn down by Lan Zhan’s love,a stone sanded down to a grain, because he’s frustrated and unsettled, alonein a choice of his own making. But maybe it’s Lan Zhan’s fault too, just alittle bit, Wei Ying thinks, petulant. Just for all the ways he has indulgedWei Ying, spoiled him to pieces.

It’s completely unfair.

As if responding to his thoughts, Lan WangJi shiftsunder his blanket and his face turns towards Wei Ying’s, laid down on the table,the feeble cushion of own his arms. Lan WangJi’s still asleep and Wei Ying letsout a quiet huff, just to conquer the need to curse at his own stupid luck, thegrind of his frustration.

“Lan Zhan,” he whines, quietly, barely a sound underhis breath. “How unlucky is it of me to have you so near yet unable to touchyou at all? How miserable is this fate of ours, keeping us apart like this?Truly such rotten luck,” he complains, letting the childish words run theircourse, soothe the fear guarding the back of his throat.

He tiredly follows the slope of Lan WangJi’s nose withhis eyes, the bow of his mouth, the press of his chest, the dips and highs ofhis knuckles; falls asleep to the longing of a man dying at an empty well.

He wakes up confused and sleepy, thoughts still sunkenunder the syrupy pull of a dream, a blanket stolen from their bed slipping downhis shoulders as he raises his head and blinks: Lan WangJi is sits across fromhim, a cup of tea in hand.

“Lan Zhan, good morning,” Wei Ying, smiles, softly,but purses his lips upon noticing where he’s slept, confused. “Why am I sleepingon the table? And why are you sitting so far away and not right next to me?” heasks through a stretch and a yawn; what a strange morning it is. Usually Lan WangJinever lets him get away with falling asleep on the table or in the bathtub andalways carries him off, carries him right into their bed –

“Oh,” the memory falls on him like a bucket of water, cuttinghis stretch short. Lan WangJi simply pushes a steaming bowl across the table:the bowl inches closer over to where Wei Ying has pillowed his head on hisarms, but Lan WangJi’s own fingers cannot pass beyond the outer edge of hisnotes.

“Still here, huh,” Wei Ying comments and Lan WangJinods; pushes more insistently. It must be close to lunch time, the air insideof the Jingshi warm and fragrant, the afternoon outside inviting itself inwithin a soft breeze.

“Eat your breakfast,” Lan WangJi says, picking up hisown cup again, carefully adjusting his sleeve. Wei Ying accepts the hot bowl ofcongee, sipping at its contents and contemplates, grazing his lips across therim.

He vaguely feels fifteen again, waiting for Lan WangJito look his way, to pay attention to his whims.

“Lan Zhan. HanGuang-Jun. Did you throw this at me?” Hetouches the blanket after a moment between them stretches and laughs when LanWangJi nods, then looks at the papers strewn all over the table.

“Any progress?”

Wei Ying swallows another gulp of his congee and shakeshis head, supporting his chin with his palm. “There must be something I’m missing.Will you look at it as well for me?” He takes the papers and pushes them allthe way across and leans back, waits for Lan WangJi to accept them, follows hisface as he meticulously reads every line, studies every annotation and scribble.

His forehead ribbon is as immaculate as ever and WeiYing really wants to play with it, tug at the ends and mess up the linecrossing Lan WangJi’s forehead, hold it until all of its length is as warm asthe parts warmed by Lan WangJi’s skin.

It reminds him of the time he had a paper body,blowing Lan WangJi a kiss and crooking his ribbon, annoying Lan WangJi’s patience,when all of this between them was still unsure and hidden away.

“Lan Zhan, remember when I – wait,” Wei Ying stops, straighteningup, and Lan WangJi’s eyes flicker towards him, caught by the movement, sudden,a spring unleashed. “All this time, I’ve been trying to dispel the ward fromthe inside. But maybe it can only be reversed from the outside.” He taps his chin with a finger, already biting into histhumb. “I mean, this kind of thing doesn’t usually happen and therefore doesn’tneed to be specified, but I didspecify the outside protection so maybe I’ve only made it reversible from theoutside, as well.”

Lan WangJi opens his palm and waits for the freshlymade talisman to flutter his way, catching it smoothly between his fingers. “I’llcast it,” he nods.

“Mn, yeah. Thank you, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying smiles andthe hope swells in him like a tidal wave, like the breath you take in afterbeing submerged for minutes on end. The sound he lets out when the paper burnsout and Lan WangJi is still unable to touch him is almost pained, like all theweight of the failure dragged his heart down to his feet.

He lets out a frustrated growl instead and his headthuds against the table, nearly knocking his finished bowl of congee over.

Lan WangJi sighs too, quietly, almost like he forgotto breathe for a moment as well and just remembered, willed his lungs to let go.

“Are there more?”

Wei Ying looks up. “More reverse spells?”

“Mn.”

“I’ve written down a few.”

“I will try them as well.” Lan WangJi gathers up WeiYing’s notes again, copies down all of the talismans, no matter how minisculethe correction and uses them one by one, always pausing to test if it worked,relentlessly, without a second of complaint or anger, without losing hope.

How he’s so composed, so seemingly calm ruffles WeiYing’s feathers – he wants to ruffle Lan Zhan’s instead, but not like this, not in ways that hurt underneath: hewants to watch him flick all of them back into its place, not render him unableto fly.

Yet there’s this undeniable, irrational annoyance whenthe last talisman is gone and instead of offering alternatives, Lan WangJi proposesWei Ying should take a bath, Wei Ying’s inner robes the ones that he’s arrivedin yesterday, his hair tangled up around his ribbon in stubborn knots.

“A bath won’t solve anything,” he protests but LanWangJi’s already gotten up, leaving to fetch their bathtub and hot water,silently preparing it like he always does, like nothing’s different, payinglittle attention to Wei Ying’s protests beyond a glance.

Wei Ying keep sitting down at the table, as aprinciple, because there are more pressing matters than a dirty robe, like whyhe’s still not figured this out and why his notes aren’t clear to his own mind, why Lan Zhan’s fine with all of this, why is he notvisibly upset, why isn’t he angry with him for causing this mess.

Why, instead, he stands as close (far, far) as he can, beckoning him into the water.“Wei Ying,” he says and just stands there and watches him like Wei Ying’s the unreasonable one, theneedlessly annoyed child.

“Fine,” WeiYing huffs, giving in after a two minute stare down, jerkily taking off hisclothes right there at the table, notstomping across the room naked, plopping into the water with an unnecessarysplash.

The water presses into all of his tensed up musclesand it does clear his head as hedunks it under, refreshes parts of him he didn’t realize were this tired as hescrubs the remnants of travel and uncomfortable sleep off, decidedly notlooking Lan WangJi’s way.

He’s slowly getting unwound by the soft suds slippingoff his shoulder, the weight of his body that just always lifts when he’s inthe water, when he’s brought back to being small and never cold anymore: he canalmost feel Shijie’s careful fingers combing through his hair.

(He can almost feel Lan Zhan’s, even gentler,somehow.)

Wei Ying sighs.

He’s not sulking and he’s not feeling guilty for being petulant, for making things harder forthe one person who’s chosen every hardship just to be by his side, just toprotect what he’s already lost once before.

When he looks up, embarrassed at his own meltdown, LanWangJi is at his work table, two stacks of papers neatly pressed against eachother, one pile decidedly bigger than the second and Wei Ying’s hit with hownormal, how routine this feels: Lan Zhan grading reports as Wei Ying bathes,Wei Ying reaching over and helping when his cheeks are already pink and hisskin all scrubbed, commenting on the wonky calligraphy of one student, praisingthe neatness and detailed work of another’s next.

It’s still a long way until evening but Wei Yingshifts in the tub until he’s at the other side, wet fingers tapping at the edgeof the desk. “Let me help, Lan Zhan,” he offers, drying his hands and eventhough there’s the everlasting unnatural gap between them, it calms his heart,this quiet time of togetherness, this little piece of normalcy.

His irritation dissipates fully, sinking to the bottomof the bathwater, forsaken and ashamed.

—

Lan WangJi collects Wei Ying’s discarded clothes to bewashed, pausing at the threshold, holding the inner robe close, enclosed withinhis arms, wrinkled and worn. He lifts the cloth to his lips, inhales shakilyagainst the tightness of his pulse, the emotions knotting up his heart.

He stalls, allows himself this minute of longing, thisminute outburst of missing a person who’s standing right in front of you, sofamiliar yet strange, unreachable.

(He makes sure that Wei Ying doesn’t – that no one –sees.)

—

Another two nights pass and Wei Ying decides to stophiding in the Jingshi and doesn’t cancelhis late afternoon class like they’ve planned: he’s bored out of his mind.

(And he’s not getting any new ideas either, anyway.)

Lan WangJiwanted for them to head to the Library Pavilion right after breakfast buttruthfully, Wei Ying is going stir crazy, stuck at the table and riflingthrough notes close to two days in a row now. He needs some movement and aslovely as watching Lan WangJi is, he needs a change of scenery, too – and eventhough it’s not night, he can still teach the juniors a thing or two,especially when the sun beckons so sweetly and the news of a lone ghoul findingits way into a pond halfway to Caiyi Town has reached Gusu just days before.

(It reminds him of Yunmeng summer days, sticky and hot,with a bundle of juniors at his heels and Jiang Cheng scowling right next tohis side.)

It barely stings anymore, memories like this, so helets them pass, focuses on the uniform footsteps that follow in his wake.

“Who can tell me where we’re headed?”he turns aroundas he asks, pausing when the juniors seem to be hesitating on the cuff of the crossroad,not one disciple trying to answer his question or meeting his eyes.

He frowns. “What’s wrong with you all? Did someonespill chili powder into your breakfast?” he asks again, teasing, but his eyesnarrow when even A-Yuan shifts nervously. “Come on, spit it out. What’s thematter?” He tries for a gentler tone and unsurprisingly, it’s JingYi that stepsforward, a stubborn air to his stride.

“Why wasn’t HanGuang-Jun seeing us off today?” heaccuses, quickly, and some of the juniors nod their head along.

Wei Ying gapes.

“Huh?”

“HanGuang-Jun wasn’t –”

“I heard you, I heard you!” he interrupts, indisbelief.

No one makes a single move for what feels like anhour, no one starts laughing telling him he’s fallen for this elaborate prank,this gaggle of teens frowning upon him for not letting his husband see him off.

Okay. What’s trulygoing on?

“HanGuang-Jun hasbetter things to do than standing around watching people leave,” Wei Yingcounters, arms crossed in front of his chest. He’s never been faced with thejuniors’ disapproval like this and he’s as taken aback as he’s slightlyannoyed.

(Isn’t there a rule that says not to question yourelders about their love life or something?)

“But he always sees us off when we leave with SeniorWei,” a disciple interjects, quietly piping up from among the crowd. Thedisciples around him nod, gravely, as if they’re judges of a severe crime,ready to profess him guilty as charged.

(Wei Ying feels like he’s living through a rathersurreal dream.)

“Senior Wei, did you tell HanGuang-Jun we were leavingCloud Recesses?” Shizui asks then, kindly, with the smallest hint of hesitationthat tells Wei Ying he’s worried about something, troubled by the possibleanswer Wei Ying will give.

It softens Wei Ying’s temper, just a little bit.

“Aren’t you guys being a little too much? HanGuang-Junknows perfectly well I am teaching a class.” He doesn’t quite know Wei Ying has left Gusu, per se, true, but they’re goingbarely halfway to Caiyi Town. It doesn’t even count as a field trip.

“HanGuang-Jun always tells Senior Wei goodbye, nomatter how far we go!”

“That’s right!”

“Yeah!”

The disciples chime in and for once, Wei Ying almostregrets how openly him and Lan Zhan operate. Now even the kids think they areprivy to the details of their relationship, is it?

“We believe you didn’t tell him we were leaving CloudRecesses at all! Because the ward is still there and HanGuang-Jun wouldn’t behappy with you leaving in such a condition!” JingYi finishes for everyone andWei Ying has a moment of thorough disbelief at how transparent both his and LanZhan’s motives seem to be.

(And here he used to believe his husband was an enigmato anyone but Zewu-Jun.)

“You kids –”

“HanGuang-Jun has been really worried for Senior Wei!”

“Maybe we should head back?”

“Yeah!”

Wei Ying subtly pinches himself, making sure he trulyis not, in fact, stuck in a fever dream.

“Am I still with the obedient, quiet, good Landisciples? Or have they all been possessed?”He shakes his head, uncrossing hisarms to put them on his hips, authoritatively (he hopes).

“Now, everybody, listen up. Of course I told everyonewho needed to know where we are going. While I am objectively the safest I canbe in this state, it is you juniors we are worried about. So of course there’ssomeone who knows where we are. And I have signal flares with me in case we runinto more trouble than we can handle.” Not that it’s likely, if there truly isonly one or a couple of water ghouls – they should be perfectly capable oftaking care of a situation like that, even withouta supervising elder.

There’s a hum that sweeps through the crowd at that and with distinct relief upon nofurther protests being received, Wei Ying deems the problem settled, returningto his first, original question, repeating it just a tad louder to overpowerthe remaining echoes of suspicion and his own rattling surprise:

“Now, does really noone know where we’re headed?”

—

Naturally, Wei Ying cannot keep the children’soutburst to himself.

He’s sprawled on the ground with a cup full of wine andwith his stomach all warmed up by dinner, just spicy enough to redden hischeeks a little, just red enough to quicken his pulse (or is that all Lan Zhan,watching him so intently?)

So, naturally,Wei Ying complains, shaking his head after taking a generous, alcoholic sip. “Canyou believe the children accused me of not telling you I was leaving with themtoday? They were saying I didn’t let you tell me goodbye!”

“You didn’t,” Lan WangJi retorts, not disapprovingly,but his lips might be just a littlebit tighter, pursed the tiniest amount.

(Wei Ying wishes he could kiss them, kiss all of itoff.

Alas -)

“I told your Uncle,” he defends himself, belatedly andLan WangJi pauses as he refills his own cup of tea, herbal and scented aftermedicine, the fragrance bittersweet.

Wei Ying quickly raises his own cup, chasing the heavyscent from his throat. “And we didn’t go far! Not even as far as Caiyi Town,”he adds.

Lan WangJi takes his time with his answer, but after amoment he sighs, voice soft. “I still wish to tell you goodbye, no matter whereyou go or how long you will be gone for.” He’s talking carefully, as if he’steaching this, as if he’s intent on not being misunderstood.

It’s endearing as hell.

“That’s what the juniors said too,” Wei Ying responds,grumbling, despite the pounding of his heart.

How can any man resist a confession this sincere?

“And, well – I’m back now. Will you tell me welcomeback?” He grins. He means it as a tease, a way to change the subject of beingguilty of exactly of what he wasaccused of: but Lan Zhan’s just too good of a person, too good of a man to notdo it anyway.

“Mn. Welcome back, Wei Ying.”

God. Wei Ying’s insides hurt with how much he wants to touch him, devour him on the spot.He hurts with how much he just wants and wantsand how every time he’s being kept apart, it’s by his own doing, his ownfaults, his own actions, keeping him stranded in empty fields, in places thateat him alive.

“Lan Zhan! Iwas clearly teasing you!” he yelps and hides his flushed face behind the cup ofwine he’s emptied two times over by now; peeks over the edge.

Lan Zhan’s never letting him go.

“Mn. But greetings are polite. Wei Ying should saygoodbye properly next time, as well,” Lan WangJi says, tucking in what’s trulybothered him in such an efficient way Wei Ying just can’t help but feeladmonished and endeared – again – at the same time.

“Your notes say so, as well,” Lan WangJi adds and it’sa strange enough remark to tilt the world right into its axis again, away fromLan WangJi and words that Wei Ying can’t possibly fit all in, can’t keep all ofthem without an overflow.

(Lan WangJi is always so helpful, he truly is.)

“My notes?” Wei Ying shuffles through the – lessmessy now that Lan WangJi’s organized them – papers on the table, trying tofind what Lan WangJi means. Has he mentioned anything like that on them?

“Mn. Here. ‘Don’t forget to say goodbye.’” Lan WangJi’sfinger points to a corner of Wei Ying’s final page, underneath the finishedlayout of the ward.

Wei Ying’s heart stutters.

“… Lan… Zhan. Lan Zhan! ”He laughs, and stumbles,hastily getting up with a sudden buoyancy of hope, of a memory gasping for air.

“Of course it’s this simple!” He laughs again and his reliefcould span the universe, it’s so vast and deep. He claps and perfectlypronouncing, says: “Goodbye.” and even though he doesn’t feel any difference, inhis gut he knows: it worked. He knows because he’s remembered, he’s finally remembered and he curses his badmemory, curses working late into the night, half delirious and halfway todrunk, because it has finally bit him in the ass.

God, he really should listen to Lan Zhan more.

With a leap that might have sent all his notes flying,Wei Ying jumps into Lan WangJi’s arms, somehow already open and prepared tocatch him as he crashes into Lan WangJi’s lap heavily, kissing every inch ofLan WangJi’s cheeks and nose and temples, pecking his lips and holding onto him,desperately, holding onto the one anchor he has in this world.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he repeats after eachkiss, chanting the words into Lan WangJi’s skin and he knows, he knows there’s no I’m sorry’s and no thank you’s between them but he’s finewith breaking the rules; he’s kissing a thankyou right into Lan Zhan’s mouth.

Lan WangJi’s fingers tremble minutely against hisback, his heart is loud under Wei Ying’s palm and Wei Ying loves him too muchto just not kiss him some more, to press himself into every little space leftbetween them, no matter how small.

Of course he’duse something so simple to break the ward. Something anyone can do. It is a talisman meant for ordinary people in thefirst place, not for cultivators: the person can best decide themself whenthey’re safe. When they do, the talisman vanishes, without any other wards,without any spiritual energy necessary. Ofcourse he’d pick something he has felt so smart about only to forget aboutit right after.

Of course.

Lan WangJi’s palm slips under his outer robe, his lipsmessing all of Wei Ying’s thoughts up – they fall apart when Lan WangJi’sfingers cross his skin and push his hips forward, keeping Wei Ying incredibly –impossibly – close.

There’s a laughhe presses into Lan WangJi’s cheek, right next to his temple, there’s anotherone trapped in the crook of Lan WangJi’s neck, airy and soft.

I have missedyou, Lan WangJi says, in a crushingly gentle hold,bruising but tender; in a kiss tracing Wei Ying’s hair, his neck, the curl ofhis shoulder.

Wei Ying’s eyes sting.

He thinks he might never let Lan Zhan go.

(He thinks Lan Zhan wouldn’t mind it either, at all.)

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”His fingers cup Lan WangJi’s face and he can’t help himself but push againstLan WangJi’s cheeks, pressing his fingers against Lan WangJi’s perfectlyimpeccable features. “Tell me, Lan Zhan: would you have stayed even if I’venever remembered how to get rid of this? Would you have gotten sick of mehaving our bed all to myself? Would you have finally gotten angry at me forruining something good? Would you have told me to leave?Would you have saidgoodbye and found someone else to –”

“Wei Ying,” Lan WangJi interrupts him; face still alittle smushed, held fully between Wei Ying’s palms, a frown hidden deep in hisvoice. “Stop talking nonsense,” he tells him, seriously, sincere.

There are tears falling off the precipice of WeiYing’s jaw, dropping onto his arms like heated wax, a melting sob curling up inhis throat. Lan WangJi stays still under his fingertips but his thumb brushes atear away from Wei Ying’s cheek, rests underneath, waits for more sadness todispel.

“I want you, wherever you are,” he says, simply and WeiYing doesn’t know why he was crying in the first place, why he continues tofeel tears slip past his cheeks but soon after, Lan WangJi’s mouth replaces histhumb, replaces the air on Wei Ying’s own lips and they don’t quite tumble intobed: they don’t really make it that far.

For once, Wei Ying doesn’t complain about it, at all.

#Anonymous #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #mdzs #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #posting fic after half a year #wei ying has big dad energy #same as Lan WangJi #more tags on AO3 #long post

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thethrillof · 3 years ago

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balter - to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment

(the correct response this time lol)

Paula always knows when something’s going to happen. She can brace for it, and she can help other people prepare around her if there’s enough time...

A child’s temper tantrum, her favorite meal, being kidnapped, a new friend, the end of the world dawning on the horizon; it’s all refracted and reflected for her to face head-on. She’s been taught that way, to use her powers to be ready. She never tries to alter things and dodge.

And that’s her problem.

“I know you’re faster than me,” Ness says, trying to sound polite. He is nice, nice as she was imagining since his name and destiny crashed into her mind like a firework. But right now his voice echoes back from the cave walls a bit dubiously. “I’m a bit too bulky and fat to get out of the way on time, but I think you should be able to.”

But she hasn’t been. She thinks he’s glancing at her shoes, but she picked something practical, no matter how bright pink they are. Her shoes aren’t the problem, and her speed’s not her problem.

“It’s my body--it’s my mind in control of my body. I just keep bracing and getting rooted to the ground instead of getting out of the way.”

That works with being kidnapped. It works with Mr. Batty, usually. It doesn’t work against Moles Playing Rough, and it absolutely doesn’t work against Mighty Bears.

She’s a little angry with herself, really. It shouldn’t be so hard to get out of the way of giant claws swiping at her face. Her dad would be having a guilty nervous breakdown if he knew about all this. And Paula knows this is just the start of their journey. It shouldn’t already be this tough, right?

“I’m just…not moving when I should,” she says tightly, staring down at her shoes now too.

Ness is quiet for a moment.

“Maybe I can tell you when?” he suggests tentatively. “If I see something coming, I’ll shout to jump out of the way?”

“Maybe…” It can’t hurt worse than what’s already been happening.

They try this out, leaping into the next Mole they see, and it works with the Mole alone—but then a Mole and a Mighty Bear both show up, and Ness gets too busy to keep an eye out for her, and she’s an inch from passing out when she manages to blast them down and get away.

Ness heals her up first, like a gentleman, and they regroup over a bunch of bananas he’s got in his backpack (for some reason).

“Well. Maybe if you…think about something that makes you want to move?”

“What do you mean?”

Ness settles against a stalagmite, ducking beneath the rim of his cap. “I don’t know. It sounded better in my head. Just…battles got easier when I stopped thinking about them as battles? I was really freaked out about this whole Chosen thing,” he admits. “So I just think about baseball. I hit things really hard with my bat when it’s not PSI stuff like I’m playing a game, and it makes fighting easier. But, umm…that’s not your problem.”

Paula swings her frypan, launching a now-empty banana peel a few feet away. Maybe a Mighty Bear’ll slip on it. That’s a cruel thing to think, though.

“No, I think you’re onto something. But I don’t play sports or…or anything like that. I work at the daycare too much. I don’t do a lot of getting out of the way of things unless it’s a kid throwing food,” she snorts, which Ness echoes.

But she considers it. What does she do that might help? She reads to herself and to children. She teaches the kids their alphabet and other simple schooling for the older ones…a mnemonic? No, that isn’t enough in the middle of a fight, and she doesn’t have any ideas for that in the first place. Playtime. Dolls, arts-and-crafts, singing, dancing—

“Dancing,” Paula blurts, and then immediately corrects herself “Wait, no. I’m bad at dancing.”

Ness perks up. “Yeah, dancing could do it!”

Didn’t he hear her? “I’m bad at dancing,” she repeats. “I can with the kids, but that’s not real dancing.”

“So? As long as you’re moving, who cares?”

“Because…” Because why? Who does care? She’s getting hit in the face by angry animals, who cares if it doesn’t look as good as the real thing! “—I still haven’t done it much.”

Ness just shrugs. “Worth a try?”

Paula sighs. “…Worth a try.”

They try a group of Mr. Batties not far from the entrance, and…well. It’s a weird start. She has to get ready to move in the first place, to listen to a rhythm that isn’t there, and she’s sure it’s incredibly silly to look at, but Ness gives her a thumbs-up or a V-sign every time she shoots a look his way.

But it starts working. A little. If she’s moving, she’s already solved part of the problem: staying still. It’s strange and clumsy, but soon she’s getting out of the way sometimes, and then—

And then it’s fun.

It’s actually fun!

Of all the things she thought going off to save the world would be, even if it was with friends she was soon to make, she didn’t think it would be fun at all.

Paula prances through battles with Batties and Moles and Bears. She doesn’t win them all, but she does so much better than before, and when she feels PSI bloom through her with power it never has before, she leaps to Ness and pulls him into a whirling wannabe waltz. They both trip, his cap gets knocked askew, and she nearly runs herself right into a wall, but they’re both laughing breathless by the end.

Everything feels just a little lighter.

#jules writes #goodbyenorthernlights

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chimchimcheerios · 5 years ago

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Ahoy my dudes it is finally time to make my contribution to the trash pile for @trashmenofmarvel ‘s 2K challenge!

Title: The Girl and her Sailor

Summary: James is a mess and Elizabeth knows it, yet it doesn’t stop her from hoping. They have a talk aboard the Pearl somewhere during Dead Man’s Chest.

Pairing: a bit of Elizabeth/James and a teeny tiny hint of Jack/James

Warnings: mentions of drowning, alcoholism, angst, nightmares

Words: 4k and a little

Prompt: „You shouldn’t put your faith in me. In the end you will only be disappointed.”

Sorry in advance for any typos, I wanted to get this little thing posted before Uni work swallows me whole lol Find it on my AO3!

The Pearl had become quieter and quieter as the sun slowly sunk into the horizon and when the music ceased and most of the sailors had retired to their bunks in a drunken stupor, James Norrington was the only one left on deck. Not even Gibbs who usually made sure everything was in order at this hour was anywhere to be seen. And James was glad about that, he did like the sailor surprisingly much but he couldn't stand his pearls of wisdom right now. He was leaning over the railing, a bottle of rum in his hands and listening to the faint sounds of the ocean beneath them.

It was a clear and peaceful night, barely any clouds to be seen and wherever he looked there was water, no land in sight. He was staring at the cold darkness, thinking about what the sea was capable of and not even the moonlight reflecting on the gentle waves could ease that dreadful feeling growing inside of him by the second. His mind was filled with images of sailors screaming, of dark waves swallowing them whole, of falling, of the cold darkness around him, filling his lungs till he couldn't breathe anymore, not knowing where up and down was. James sighed and raised the bottle to his lips, the taste of warm and stale rum filling his mouth. He had learned to love that burning sensation down his throat, a familiar, almost comforting feeling these days.

He didn't notice Elizabeth approaching. James was too lost in thoughts and memories and only when she went to stand beside him, making her presence known, he turned to face her. Despite the men's attire she was wearing, she still bore striking resemblance to the Elizabeth he knew and it was beyond him how anybody could have possibly mistaken her for a man even with her hair tied together. At least her voice should have given her away. And perhaps she looked even more like herself, dressed in these clothes and maybe he knew her too well to judge her disguise.

She did not say a single word at first, only looked at him and her gaze felt like it was burning right through him. Perhaps with distaste, maybe it was pity, he couldn't tell anymore. And he stayed quiet as well, turning away again till the silence between them became too much to bear and the faint sound of the calm ocean beneath them made him more uneasy than he would have liked to admit. He was a sailor, he should love the sea as a woman, not fear her! And maybe he did after all, maybe he loved the sea still despite everything she had done to him, despite knowing what she was capable of and what incredible power lay within her. He couldn't hate her, never. The sea was calling him, had been since he could remember and he was to honor her call every second of his life. "What do you want?" he finally asked the young woman besides him, not turning away from the reflection of the moon in the cold darkness.

Elizabeth stayed quiet a little bit longer as if she didn't quite know herself why she found herself on deck alone with him at this hour. Had he not made it clear that he wanted to be alone? Had he not scared her away with his biting remarks? “I want some company.” she informed him at last, her voice soft and quiet. A little glance to his side told him that she had not shifted her focus away from him. He raised an eyebrow and turned his head completely to look at her.

“Well I do not.” he muttered. There had been a time where he would have given anything for her to willingly enjoy his company just like she had when she was a child and he barely a man but these times were gone now. It felt like an eternity ago even if it had not been. So much had happened, too much. And it would be a lie if he were to say he didn't love her anymore. Not unlike the sea he would never truly be able to hate her, in a way Elizabeth Swann did remind him of the sea, the power that lay within her. She was wild and stubborn and unpredictable. But Elizabeth had made it inescapably clear that her heart already belonged to the poor blacksmith turned pirate instead. It's why she was here to begin with, to find the man she loved and it wasn't him. It never would be, he had accepted it by now.

James hated that she got to see him like this. He hated that she saw a side of him he had intended to hide forever, a side of him that was weak and hurt and so very unlike the man he had once been. So very unlike Commodore Norrington. He hated that she saw him fall victim to his own pride and that she witnessed him going down the same path so many other good men had before him. Not that he was a good man, he really was the anything but that and he looked down, twirling the bottle in his hand, watching the dreaded liquid move around inside of it. His facade had crumbled and maybe it was time to pay for his sins now. "Got all the company I need."

Elizabeth let out a slow breath but didn't say anything about it, yet it was almost as if he could feel her disapproval. What he didn't expect was to feel a hand on his shoulder just moments later. Her hand, comforting him as well as she could. It was a gesture he had not expected, especially not after he had let his frustration out on her earlier that day. They had been friends before, they had grown apart before but they had never been the people to show physical affection besides the occasional hug. But then again, it was usually Elizabeth who had hugged him first. Suddenly he felt quite overwhelmed, not unlike back when he had made his proposal and it backfired so dramatically. It had been a while since anybody had gotten even remotely close to him and shown him any sympathy whatsoever. Tortuga was not a friendly place, not even the women who sold their services were though he had befriended two of them, bonding over their shared dislike for Captain Jack Sparrow. But besides that the last months had been filled with drunken bar fights and trouble, it all became a blur in his mind. Naturally James had tried to distance himself the minute he first set foot aboard the Pearl alongside Elizabeth. It was bad enough that she had to find him in a pigsty even if he appreciated that she had come for him to make sure he was alright. Instead of trying to be better for her though, he had continued his attempt to numb all possible feelings with enough rum to compete with Sparrow or else he feared he'd go mad with guilt.

“James…” she sighed but stopped talking for a bit again, staring into the ocean just like he had. “Why are you out here alone?”

“Well, it had been my intention to be alone and empty this very bottle in my hand till I fall asleep at last.” he explained halfheartedly and lifted the bottle to his lips once more. His gaze wandered towards the water again but he could hear the loud, exaggerated sigh Elizabeth let out. "Someone just had to ruin those lovely evening plans for me."

But just like the Elizabeth he knew and the Elizabeth who knew him more than he'd like her to, she looked right through him. To be honest though, he hadn't really put an effort in sounding confident in his statement anyway. “I think the opposite is the case.” she told him and sounded rather sure of herself. And she was right, he wanted anything but to be alone. He'd been mostly alone for a long time now and had pushed away those who tried to get any closer. In face he was still doing it or else he wouldn't have treated Elizabeth like he had. But he couldn't tell her that now, could he? He couldn't let his facade crumble even more than it had already. Rather unexpectedly she reached out for his face, gently turning it so he finally looked directly at her and when their eyes met he couldn't lie anymore.

“I couldn’t sleep… I can’t sleep.” James admitted to her at last. Of course he didn't tell her why, didn't tell her about the nightmares that haunted him. It wasn't something he talked about, not when he had been a mere child and not now either but then again, who would have listened anyway? His father certainly hadn't back then, told him to man up but judging from what Lawrence Norrington had spat in his face all those years ago, he had figured his father did not care about him all that much. And when he'd been old enough to have friends to confide in, the nightmares rarely happened anymore and he was to stubborn to admit any weaknesses to them whatsoever.

Her hand remained on his face and he was almost sure there was worry in her eyes. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

James reached up, rough hands pushing Elizabeth's gentle fingers away. He wasn't as gentle as she had been, she was resisting at first and when the only thing reminding him of her hand was the lingering warmth on his face, he looked down after considering his options. "No." And she seemed to have accepted the answer.

"Well, I am here," she began, turning around and leaning back, resting her elbows on the railing now. "because I need your help, James. I know I can trust you and you're the only person on this ship who can help me."

James furrowed his brows but didn't say anything about it. Perhaps if he ignored her she would go away? Whatever she needed his help with - most likely it was about dear William - he wasn't fit to be of use for her and he had no idea how she couldn't possibly see that. It stung, felt like a stab in the gut that she still believed the man who he once was to be there while he knew better than anybody else that he wasn't. But he couldn't help her, not even if he wanted to and both of them would be bound for disappointment in the long run. He was a penniless drunk now, a man who had willingly joined a pirate crew and his glorious days were long gone. The Commodore was nothing but a distant memory but yet it seemed like Elizabeth refused to believe that. She saw something that wasn't there, blinded by hope and desperation for the man she loved so dearly.

But against what he had hoped, she stayed and as annoying as it was, he appreciated it for some reason. She'd always been the stubborn kind and probably always would be. Sometimes it did her good, sometimes it didn't but it was his Elizabeth nonetheless and he couldn't help but smile a little bit. He was getting tired, it had been an exhausting day and Sparrow had made sure to make him work especially hard. It was funny though how the captain seemed to assume he didn't know what it meant to work on a ship, what it meant to work hard in the burning Caribbean heat or to scrub the deck endlessly. James Norrington was no stranger to manual labor, he had started somewhere too. He wasn't born a high ranking navy officer, he had worked hard for it and especially Sparrow should know that if only the captain could put his childish jealousy behind him for once!

So James turned away from the water and slowly sat down on the blackened wood, leaning back against the railing with an exhausted sigh. Sometimes he thought he could almost feel the Pearl as if she were alive and it made him understand a little better why Sparrow liked her so very much. The Pearl truly was a magnificent ship, if only she wasn't in the hands of a pirate but then again he supposed she belonged to Jack and he belonged to her. With Sparrow, he corrected in his mind. He wouldn't fall for it again, wouldn't let himself get closer and think fondly of the goddamn pirate captain who ruined his life! He rubbed his eyes and patted the floor besides him, an invitation for Elizabeth to sit down too.

She did, hesitantly so at first but it was almost as if she knew that he needed her company a little bit longer even if it didn't last. He had missed her. James took a deep breath and drank from his bottle again as if that would somehow help with what he was about to admit to her. He didn't know why he did it, he never had the intention to rub it into her face how far he had fallen. “Every time I try to fall asleep it feels like I’m drowning.”

“So you would rather drown yourself in a different manner?” she asked drily, her big eyes staring at him innocently in the faint light of a lantern.

“Elizabeth, don’t.”

“Why not? You think me naïve? You think I don’t understand how harsh the world can be?”

And something bitter inside of him wanted to tell her that he indeed thought so, he wanted to spit into her face that she knew absolutely nothing of his pain and that her efforts were completely and utterly useless. He let it slip past his lips before he had the chance to properly think about it, his emotions winning over rationality. "Yes."

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she stood up to leave and he immediately realized his mistake. He had carelessly offended the only person who did not seem to hate him just yet. But he couldn't let her leave, he hadn't truly meant it and he reached for her hand, looking at her with hopeful, almost pleading eyes. And only when she sat down again, he let go of her hand as if he'd been worried she'd leave for good now. Had she truly wanted to leave, he would have let her. "My apologies, I should not have..."

This time it was Elizabeth to remain silent, to ignore him. She didn't even acknowledge his apology at all.

"They're back." he blurted out, gripping the bottle in his hands till his knuckles turned white. Elizabeth was among the few people he'd ever told about what happened to him as a child and the nightmares that only ceased a few years later. Elizabeth had still been a child herself then, telling him about bad dreams she kept having so he told her about those he had when he was a kid in attempt to make her feel better. He doubted she remembered it but at the time she had been overly happy that a man like him had been a kid scared by dreams once too. She had hugged him and told him how glad she was that it meant she wasn't weak. James couldn't blame her for not remembering, in fact he barely remembered it himself had it not been for the hurricane stirring up things long forgotten. And Elizabeth looked at him with complete and utter confusion on her face. "The nightmares. You won't remember, I told you when you were a mere child."

"Oh." Against his expectations her eyes actually widened with realization. "They never told me the full story of what happened before you left. Of course there's been talk but you know Port Royal. Rumors spread like wildfire and in all honesty I was busy with other things... wedding preparations, a useless effort in retrospect."

"I made a mistake, a horrible mistake and it didn't just cost me my ship and my commission. It cost lives of good men." He brought the bottle to his lips again, ignoring the shame because what did it matter now anyway? It helped, it took the pain away and he could finally feel the warmth from inside and the exhausted numbness spreading over him like a blanket. And the world started to spin a little but he was used to that feeling by now and he laughed bitterly. "Even the best men, even the strongest ship cannot win against the ruthless power of the sea. I was greedy for honor and the satisfaction of catching Sparrow at last. I had become reckless, thought I was above her but the hurricane took everything and I was reminded again that in the eyes of the sea, we are nothing but ants. We couldn't win. Funny, honor was the first thing I lost."

Elizabeth didn't quite acknowledge what he had said. She took his hand instead, squeezing it tightly and it felt entirely more comforting than any words could have ever been. He couldn't tell if she was feeling sorry for him or if it was sadness he saw in her eyes. At the very least she wasn't angry at him, didn't openly blame him and he was glad about that. “You don’t look well.” she noted, a slight worried undertone in her voice and she reached out to gently brush the strands of hair that were falling in his face away.

“Charming as ever.” he said, a voice dripping with sarcasm and rolled his eyes dismissively.

"Don't be silly James, you know what I mean. I'm just... worried." She admitted as she tried to brush away a particularly stubborn strand of hair that just kept falling back till she gave up and let it be.

He'd always told himself that under all the grime and mud, there was still some of himself left but the truth was that whenever he tried to comb his fingers through his hair, he was surprised at how long it had gotten and got stuck halfway through. The truth was that he couldn't remember when his beard had grown either and that his clothes - or what was left of them for that matter - hang much more loosely on his body than they had before. The truth was that there were bags under his tired eyes, that his face was flushed and that he bore more scars than he had before his venture into the foul place that was Tortuga. The truth was that he had been in denial.

"Don't be. I did it to myself, it's my fault I-" but James didn't get to finish his sentence.

"Oh would you stop it!" Elizabeth exclaimed, more annoyed than worried now and straightened her back. "We've all had bad things happen to us but it's in the past now so could you please stop wallowing in your own self-pity because I need you James. I need the James Norrington I grew up with, the James Norrington I admired once. I need his help." And for a brief moment she didn't look like the strong, put together woman she was growing into but a girl, alone on an adventure and worried for love of her life.

James wanted to defend himself but he knew deep down that she was right. Or perhaps he was too drunk to think clearly by now, who knew. But what he knew for sure was that he didn't have the energy to fight with this woman and he didn't really want to either. "I know you're hurt Elizabeth. I know they took away the man you love but don't think you're the first person to be heartbroken before. And Elizabeth?" He offered her his bottle but she shook her head. "I trust you will find him again because this his how the story is supposed to go and I can assure you that I am not a part of it."

"But what if you are a part of it?" She asked him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I will find him with your help! You saved me once and you can help me now because you are the only person aboard this ship I can truly trust." Her voice had become more and more desperate as she spoke to him.

"You shouldn't put your faith in me. In the end you will only be disappointed." he told her more calmly than he thought he would. And the words felt heavy as he spoke them, as they fought their way out of his mouth and it made him feel sick to say but it was true. Perhaps there was a time where he would have helped her right away but now he knew that he wouldn't, that he couldn't. She was strong enough to do it on her own and she didn't need the help of a penniless deckhand who drowned his sorrows in rum or whatever he lay his hands on. James reached up, his free hand finding it's way into her soft hair as he tried to comfort her. "You always did it, saw me as something I am not. A good man."

A few moments passed, maybe it were just a few seconds, maybe it was several minutes, he couldn't quite tell. He was more focused on staying awake and keeping the sickness he was beginning to feel at bay.

"There was a little girl once." she began and her voice sounded almost choked. He didn't dare to look, was sure he wouldn't be able to handle it if she were to cry. "She didn't have a lot of friends, especially none that shared her interests but adventures and pirates were deemed unsuitable topics for a little girl anyway. Not that it stopped her from dreaming. One day she met a young man, a friend of her father and he was so determined and brave, she was taken aback. He was terrific sailor and she'd beg him for stories of his travels whenever he came to visit."

"Stop." he whispered, a pained expression on his face but she continued as if nothing had happened.

"And when her father wasn't listening, the sailor told her stories that made her eyes widen with fascination and she listened. Sometimes he'd bring her little presents, sometimes he smuggled books about pirates in for her to read. He taught her how to ride a horse like a gentleman because she just wouldn't stop begging. He was her friend, her only friend."

The story had brought a little smile to his face, made him feel warm inside like no amount of drink ever could despite the pain it had caused him as well. Sometimes he forgot about all those little things, her childhood he had played such an important role in back in London and later in Port Royal. It all seemed so distant and so very far away but it was good to know she remembered. It was good that she had made him remember. Elizabeth then hesitantly reached for the bottle James was still holding, gently trying to take it from his hands but he didn’t want to let it go. His fingers remained close and she pried them open one by one and set it aside, looking at him with that sad glimmer in her eyes. “I know that he’s still there.”

“He’s not.”

"Liar."

And she turned his face towards her, their eyes meeting in the dark on a god forsaken pirate vessel. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go, it never had been. He was confused more than anything when she leaned in closer and closer and maybe it was the alcohol impairing his judgement but he kissed right back when she placed her soft lips on his no matter how improper it was. It was only a brief kiss, didn't last very long and when she pulled away, she hastily stood up and hurried away, back to where she had come from but not before looking back one last time. "The girl missed the sailor a lot. Maybe for a little while she even loved him back and she meant it then and she means it now. Her sailor is a fine man."

With that she was gone again and James was left sitting on deck in the middle of the night, all alone with only the rest of his rum keeping him company and he wondered if it all had been a dream or a hallucination after all. If only her taste didn't linger. It ripped open old wounds and he tried to flush it away as he downed what was left in his bottle and staggered back inside as well and fell asleep at last. He didn't dream that night or at the very least he couldn’t remember.

#trashman2kchallenge #fanfic #one shot #james norrington #pirates of the caribbean #potc

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