#Perhaps I should ask my parents how often they came and got me that year

[backpackingspace]

So that poll about how long you've gone without sleep I just rebloged and ranted in the tags about my experience with sleep depervation has me thinking about how sleep deprivation is literally torture. How you're body physically starts shutting down how you die after 12 days. And I can't help but wonder how close to that I was. I was losing time hours and days of it. I couldn't add 2 plus 2. I don't remember any hallucinations but I know they happen after 36 hours so they certainly were happening. I think I can forgive myself my foolishness given those circumstances

[ajmasch]

@here4hualian kissmas day 8: kiss on the...

Xie Lian escaped to the gardens the first chance he got. There, one he was out of sight of the doors that lead back to the party, he relaxed, slumping down on one of the stone benches that littered the area. He closed his eyes, threw his head back, and took several deep breaths now that he felt like he could, now that random nobles from this or that kingdom weren’t crowding in with flattery and gifts and pointed comments about their children who were right around his age.

“Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

Xie Lian’s eyes snapped open at the unfamiliar voice. In front of him, he saw a young man dressed in plain black clothes. He was tall, with dark hair pulled back into a loose braid with a couple strands falling out to frame his face.

Handsome, Xie Lian thought immediately, his cheeks slightly red. Luckily for him it was too dark to tell in the fading daylight. He cleared his throat. “I’ll go back inside in a minute, I only came out for some fresh air.”

“Right, of course. I mean, not that I was trying to tell Dianxia what to do, I was just startled to find you here. I just… Isn’t it a little cold to be outside?” Summer was just beginning, and the nights still hadn’t quite shook off the winter chill.

“It’s nice. Those parties get stuffy after a while, and I like it out here.” A breeze drifted through and he noticed the man shiver lightly. “What about you? You didn’t come from the party.”

“No, your highness. This one is merely a gardener.”

Xie Lian lit up. “Oh? So then, this is all your doing?” He gestured to the flowers surrounding them.

The man bowed his head. “Yes, your highness.”

“It’s beautiful! I like it very much!” The man lifted his head at the praise, a soft smile on his face. “What is your name?”

“This one is third in his family, so they call me San Lang,” the man, San Lang responded. “And… if I may be bold…” he waited a moment but Xie Lian didn’t interrupt so he continued, “I would say that though the gardens are certainly beautiful, they hold no candle to the most beautiful flower of all.” He met Xie Lian’s eyes for a second, but his gaze quickly darted down to the ground.

Xie Lian’s first instinct was to sigh at yet another compliment. He had been lavished in so many of those tonight, people looking to get in his good graces, or his father’s, saying whatever they thought would flatter the young, naive prince into giving them whatever foothold they wanted. 

When San Lang said it, though… There was no court speech, no words with at least three alternate meanings, dressed up in pretty language to hide cruel intentions. Xie Lian instead got the feeling that this young man was completely sincere.

It was refreshing. He wanted suddenly to hear more, so he leaned forward and asked, “So I’m a flower then? Should I allow the esteemed gardener to care for me, perhaps? Arrange me among my brethren as he sees fit?”

“Dianxia- I didn’t mean- Of course his highness isn’t-” San Lang stammered. Xie Lian cut him off with a gentle laugh.

“San Lang, relax.” Xie Lian took note of the way San Lang’s shoulders tensed then gently lowered when he said his name. “I’m only messing with you, I really don’t mind. Besides, you’re certainly not the first person to have compared me with some delicate beauty of nature, if I minded I’d have made it known a long time ago, haha…”

Honestly he did mind, just a bit. To have himself reduced down to nothing but his beauty so often, as if that were the only thing to him, as if he didn’t beg his parents to allow him to learn how to use a sword until the finally gave in, as if he didn’t work himself to the bone training with his fellow disciples, as if he didn’t earn his place as the top martial student in his sect–

“They’re wrong.” San Lang’s voice was quiet but strong.

“Hm?” Xie Lian looked up from where he realized his gaze had dropped to his hands, calloused from years of hard work but praised as so delicate. San Lang was looking at him now, and met his eyes with a determined gaze. Someone opened the door to the garden then, and a ray of light fell across San Lang’s face, allowing the prince to see that one of his eyes was a beautiful shade of red.

“They’re wrong,” San Lang repeated. “Dianxia isn’t delicate. Flowers aren’t delicate! It’s like…” he hesitated. “This may be presumptuous of me to ask, but may I show you something?”

Xie Lian nodded. “Show me.” He stood and followed San Lang through the garden, towards a bed at the edge. This area of the garden was reserved for a grove of orange trees, but San Lang ignored them, instead drawing Xie Lian’s attention to the base where a few small yellow flowers were growing. Dandelions.

“These are my favorite flowers,” San Lan said.

“A weed?” Xie Lian asked, confused. “I didn’t think they were supposed to be in gardens.”

“They’re not,” San Lang confirmed. “And yet, here they are. The thing that makes them weeds, that makes gardeners so upset with them, is that once they’re here they’re nearly impossible to fully get rid of. They’re tenacious, they grow almost anywhere, so it seems as though no matter how many you pull they always come right back. That’s why they’re my favorite.”

Xie Lian had never thought of it like that before. A genuine grin began to form on his face. “So when San Lang says I am like a flower, he means a dandelion?”

San Lang made a face for a moment, but quickly returned his features to neutral. “In a way, I suppose, but if I were going to describe Dianxia as a flower…” he turned his head. Xie Lian followed his gaze and landed on a bush dotted with white roses.

“To me, Dianxia is like this,” San Lang said. He walked over to the bush and brushed his fingers gently across the petals of a rose. “Beautiful on the surface…” he reached in and snapped the stem, bringing the flower to Xie Lian, “...if only to hide the danger waiting just beneath.” He presented the flower so Xie Lian could see the line of thorns along the stem.

“Oh…” Xie Lian’s breath caught in his throat. An indescribable feeling that had been building inside his chest the entire conversation bubbled up and overwhelmed him with its intensity. “That’s– really how you see me?”

“It is.” San Lang, in a sudden fit of boldness, reached out and gently grabbed Xie Lian’s right hand. “Beautiful on the surface…”

He bent down and kissed the back of his hand lightly. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to the prince, just earlier he had stood at the front of a line while noble upon noble greeted him in just this way. It was different when San Lang did it. He was so sincere as he had been in everything he’d done since Xie Lian met him, and it made the act feel reverent, almost like worship.

San Lang gently turned Xie Lian’s hand in his until his palm faced upwards. A team of servants had fussed for hours over this hand earlier in the day. While the back of his hand was simple– his nails could be shaped, his skin lotioned until it was soft– the callouses from holding his sword stood prominent on his palm despite their efforts, scrubbing and scraping and soaking until they had to stop or his fingers would be all wrinkled. At past events, Xie Lian had ended up dancing with several girls who had recoiled from the rough sensation of his hand in theirs.

San Lang didn’t recoil. He treated Xie Lian’s palm just as reverently as he’d treated the back of his hand, bending over to place a kiss at the joint where his pointer finger met the rest of his hand, right over where one of the largest callouses sat. “Hiding the danger beneath,” he finished.

Xie Lian couldn’t breathe. A tingling started from that point in his palm that was slowly traveling through his entire body, chasing away the chill of the night and leaving him pleasantly warm.

San Lang gently placed the rose in his hand, ensuring the thorns wouldn’t break his skin, then released it. Xie Lian wanted to say something else, to learn more about him, anything to hear him speak more, to stay with him a little longer, but he was distracted by a shout behind him.

“Dianxia! There you are!” It was Feng Xin. “Your father has been looking for you, what are you doing out here?”

“Nothing, I was just…” Xie Lian glanced back to San Lang, only to discover that he was gone, vanished into the night. “...Looking at the flowers,” he landed on.

“Well hurry up and come back inside! You’re going to catch a cold out here!” Feng Xin fretted.

Xie Lian allowed himself to be dragged back inside, but his mind stayed on the rose in his hand, and the boy who had given it to him for the rest of the night.

white rose: young love, new beginnings, eternal loyalty

[hyperactivewhore]

Hey! I hope your having a wonderful day <3

I was curious to see how you feel about those stories where the OC is significantly more powerful than the Mikaelson Family? Like the ones where people just add the OC as a Scarlet Witch. I honestly don’t think any of the Mikaelsons would react very well to having someone significantly more powerful than them in their vicinity. As shown in quite a few episodes. Let alone one of them being romantically involved.

Hi! I'm fine, how about you?

I'm not gonna lie, these kind of stories are hard to read most of the time, especially because the powers these ocs have are practically never executed well. Why do they have that magic, who gave it to them, how do they even manage to live having that much amount of power? If people are so desperate to have their ocs be the next Wanda Maximoff, at least try better. Make their parents a god or goddess, perhaps both, someone like Thor, Loki, Freyja, especially considering the Mikaelson worshipped the Norse deities.

I honestly don't see any of them reacting well at all, especially Klaus and Kol. For a thousand years, they believed themselves to be the most strongest beings on earth and often were proud of it, knowing it meant they were "untouchable" and the few who dared to go after them were easily dealt with (excluding Mikael). We've all seen how they reacted to their parents, Bonnie, Dahlia, Inadu, Lucien, and all the people who came close to killing them, so imagining them having to deal with someone who is in Wanda level, who can warp reality and create life from nothing would be an interesting dynamic.

Trying to kill this kind of ooc would nearly be impossible, but knowing how prideful the Mikaelson are this would not stop them at all. I can see Elijah trying to negotiate some kind of truce should the need arise, and I can easily see as well Klaus and Kol trying to seduce her/him to put themselves in their good side if they've run out of chances, but this would likely be the last option considering how much it would eat them inside to have to "yield" to someone who tried killing them/is more powerful than them.

However, Kol was also absolutely terrified of Silas, to the point where he tried to kill his sister to stop her from waking him up, so it's hard to determine with him. It's very likely in my opinion, that he sided with this ooc if he got something from it, some sort of protection or escape from his family - but this alliance would prove to be very short, as all the Mikaelson are cockroaches who can never be truly away from each other.

Rebekah, on the other hand, is a hard guess for me too, considering how short her time on both shows was. Someone more powerful than her family, than her brother, who often abused her? Depending on which Rebekah we're talking about, I can see her trying to charm her way into this ooc's heart to have a defense against Klaus. But TO Rebekah would without a doubt stand with her family against anyone.

Any Mikaelson falling in love with this person, however, is unlikely to happen in my opinion. As I said before, I can see them - all of them, to be honest - making this person fall in love with them to have her/him "under control" or to have a secret weapon, but love is a very different thing from manipulation or lust. I can easily see them developing a toxic relationship that lasts through centuries if they do happen to fall in love, and being some sort of "frenemies" with the Mikaelson, but all of this is hypothetical, of course.

Thanks for the ask!

[moicaire]

hey do you guys wanna read a snippet of sad pathetic wet Aeilif fic

* * *

“Halbjorn. He was your husband, right?” Aela asked, approaching the topic with a bit of caution.

“Yes.” Aeilif fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “It’s… hard to believe that he has been gone for two years.”

“Tell me about him?” Aela offered, a quality of softness in her voice that she did not often have.

Aeilif hesitated for a moment. She had barely mentioned Halbjorn to any of them, no more than a passing comment to explain her situation. She hadn’t talked about him with anyone at all, really. It had been easier to push it all to the side. Perhaps now was the time. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“He was always so cheerful, such a kind soul. Seemed like he was always bending over backward to help someone. I grew up with him, we were fast friends as children. I tended to keep to myself but he never failed to reach out to me.” A fond smile curved the edge of her lips up slightly. “Divines, we had fun. Playing near the river, looking over the trinkets my father had in the back of his shop. When we were older, we would practice fight with wooden swords or go hunting in the woods.

He left for Whiterun to join the guard after his twentieth winter. A few months later, my parents packed up and moved to Cyrodiil to start a store in the city. Tired of the cold, I guess, it wasn’t the best on my mother’s health. I didn’t want to leave Riverwood, though, so I took over their shop and lived upstairs. It wasn’t such a bad arrangement, although it got to be a bit much after a while.”

“That the shop around the corner from the smith? I remember seeing that,” Aela cut in.

“Yes, that’s the one. I made copies of mother’s l patterns and made most of the clothes myself, and some of the leatherwork. It was getting to be a lot to manage myself, though. But a couple years in, Halbjorn came back. He—he spent his free time in the evenings helping me finish the leatherwork, cleaning up the store. That meant the world to me.” Aeilif’s eyes watered and she rubbed them with the back of her hand. “And then… a few weeks later, he proposed. He had bought a ring in Whiterun before he came back to Riverwood. I found out later than he had been saving for that ring the whole time.” She reached around her neck and drew out a chain. “I’ve carried both our rings with me since he died.”

“What happened to him? Bandits?”

Aeilif scoffed bitterly. “Essentially. Worse than bandits. He got stopped by the Thalmor on the way home from Whiterun. He was wearing an amulet of Talos. He… didn’t come home that evening. In the morning some imperials passing through brought his body back. Cruel beasts!” Her voice wavered. “It was brutal. Absolutely brutal. H-he had clearly been in pain.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she sobbed and stared down at the covers.

Aela grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I am so sorry. It should never have happened.”

Aeilif broke down and wept openly, releasing the emotion she had held back for so many months. She missed Halbjorn so dearly. She missed the life they were building together, the children they should have had. How dare the Thalmor take it all away so easily? Why did it have to be him?

And Aela stayed next to her, holding her hand. And just listened.

[the-winters-prince]

That theory anon here again, thank you so much for your kind and supportive words everyone! So I don't personally subscribe to that theory anymore since as E Wein said herself it's up to the reader to decide, I can't believe Medraut is quite that messed up, and I have a tendency to overanalyze worst case scenarios. What got me ruminating was

How Medraut so easily slipped into being cruel from almost the get go after not seeing Lleu for years. As if it isn't the first time.

2. Medraut having mixed, confusing emotions for Lleu since the beginning and mentioning how beautiful he finds him.

3. That Medraut might have been SA'd from an early age, and so might have continued the cycle of abuse earlier too.

4. Lleu's great fear of being touched and falling asleep.

I'd love for these theories to be laid to rest though, I like my ships dark but not quite that dark. What do you people think?

Again, I apologize if I said anything offensive considering the dark topic, and I wish you all the best!

First of all thank you for your reply! I'm excited to chat with new readers. I still have your other ask, should I publish it too?

I actually went through a similar scenario in my head where Artos summoned Medraut to his court earlier and came to the conclusion that if Medraut had been bought home sooner he may have started to sexually abuse Lleu sooner, because unlike Medraut in twp this Medraut never spend a time outside the toxic influence of his parents where he could process his own csa trauma under the care of someone compassionate.

I personally don't subscribe to this theory because just as you said it would be too dark for Medraut to have sa'd Lleu when he was a preteen and it would be a crime too abominable to forgive. I also think that young Medraut may have been maladjusted because of various traumatic experiences, and exhibit signs of both physical and psychological damage that would not escape the keen sight of Ginerva and Artos. He has not perfected how to mask, blend in and appear normal to outsiders yet. Artos would see no use in keeping this Medraut alongside Lleu if he cannot assign a value to him. If Artos were to see Medraut displaying behavoural problems and decide he posed a threat to Lleu he would send him away immediately. I believe if you were to remove young Medraut from his mother and put him into a room with young Lleu right away without a familarization phrase where he could acclimate slowly to his family and become familiar with the way relatives are supposed to treat each other, he might lash out violently at him. He would punish Lleu how his mother punished him and his mother punished him for anything.

Lleu is so fragile and often ill, even a light shove or a sleeping with an open window could harm him. Lleu meeting Medraut who is used to a different level of violence and would misjudge how much roughousing his brother could take would have disastrous consequences. In an AU where Medraut grows up alongside Lleu, Ginerva would have to know about some of the abuse Medraut had endured and stand up for him if he hurt Lleu accidentally. She would feel too guilty to send Medraut away to live with that monster and would argue with Artos until he gives Medraut another chance. Medraut would learn how to hurt Lleu in ways that can't be detected by adults, but I don't know if he could get access to Lleu's room at night as guards are stationed everywhere and unlike the twins, the brothers wouldn't have been close enough that it would be acceptable for them to sleep in the same bed. Perhaps Medraut is considered so unimportant that he is basically invisible? Or people overestimate the power Artos gives him and don't say anything when he goes to restricted rooms of the castle with a serious face as if he had been given permission by the king?

I find that concept interesting in theory. I took Lleu's fear of being touched while unconscious as him subconsciously picking up on Medraut's true desire and fearing him, I've never entertained the idea before that this fear actually had a foundation and was the result of an earlier trauma which he cannot recall as he was too young and not even conscious when it happened to him. Medraut wouldn't mention it in his own narration because he doesn't consider anything sexual that isn't sex as abuse just like how he isn't aware that Morgause had groomed him when he was a child. ("Godmother, I don't understand why I am made to desire you so.")

I agree with you. The entire passage when Medraut meets a newborn Lleu for the first time striking. You don't describe a baby as attractive. Call me insane, I fully believe that Medraut fell in love with Lleu when he was a baby. Or something close to love. He imprinted on him. He became obsessed with him. I hc that had Medraut grown up alongside Lleu (after Morgause), their relationship would have developed at the same speed as Ignacio and Antonio's from the Carnivorous Lamb.

Now as you mention it, Medraut admitting he has always envied Lleu's beauty as he is obviously lusting for his sick body, makes his connection from past to present more unsettling. Like nothing has changed. It's as if these feelings, this lust just as this envy towards Lleu were always present no matter how old Lleu was.

When I think of an AU where Medraut and Lleu grow up together I think of the quote from the incest diary:

[sandandlightning]

Good afternoon! If you don't mind me asking, how did you first approach Lucifer and what is He like? I've worked with Set for most of my life and always felt a tug at the Luciferian current but something always kept me away. I find myself drifting back to the LHP after many years and something about your posts resonated with me. Would you be open to a dialogue? Have a great day!

I would absolutely be open to a dialogue! That is why I made this blog- in case any of my experiences happen to be helpful to others ^^

I was very intimidated by working with infernal divinities and LHP dork for a long time, but once I started working with them I found I didn't need to be- both in terms of the deities themselves and from the community of people working with them.

I did not start off my foray into lucifarian work working with Lucifer himself. Initially I meditated on lesser Goetic demons I felt close to. The first 'big' presence I encountered was actually Leviathan- after initially working with Bune they informed me how long Leviathan had actually been present in my life. From there it was sort of a matter of working with different minor or 'less scary' entities and being introduced to bigger more intimidating ones. Set himself helped with this process and encouraged me along this path.

I made the jump to reaching out to Lucifer directly on the spring equinox, which Demonolatry practices often holds as a holiday for him. I approached him by meditating on his enn with music, sort of putting myself out there to see what happened (a process that has seen me reel in a completely different entity than the one I was originally reach out to) but he responded almost immediately. YT music played into a song titled 'fallen angel' immediately and I was honestly shocked at how fast and on the nose it was.

He is exceptionally friendly and very empahetic- (I'm sorry, I need you to know he says hi, the aforementioned song just came on as I was writing this post) and he is very good at helping with feeling your feelings without guilt. If you have a history of trauma he will aggressively adopt you, especially if it is parental related.

My initial encounter with him had him venting a bit, in a sense- it was like he was trying to tell his side of the story. There was a lot of anger and sadness, but never at me, rather a general upset at injustice in the world that had afflicted both of us. It did not feel like some dramatic lamentation either, rather the odd familiar feeling of being a teenager, laying on the floor of a friends basement at 2 am in the summer, a video game still paused as you both got distracted just talking about life for hours. That part of the encounter was also surprisingly brief, before it organically moved on to more positive things, focusing on the good parts of the present rather than dwelling on the pain of the past.

If you were to completely remove him from his original context he would be purely a deity of the arts and creativity, like one of the muses or perhaps akin to Khnum or a less practical Ptah. I make and sell crafts and engage in more traditional art mediums on occasion and he gets SO EXCITED. He just wants people to make things. It is impossible to worry about if you are 'wasting time on a hobby' or 'something not productive', he will always reaffirm that the urge to make neat little bobbles because we can, to sing and dance for the sake of the act and not a performance, is what makes us human, and should be celebrated.

In a way there is a similar sort of energy to Set, in that there is this super intimidating air when they are being seen from a distance, but then this Big Scary Deity looks at you and makes the worst dad joke you ever heard and you can't help but feel at ease suddenly. Set is definitely more chaotic, Lucifer always feels very peaceful and serene, but gets easily excited. I think the biggest difference is Set, for me, has a baseline 'destructive' energy (not in a bad way, but in a, the desert is barren, death is a natural part of life, rain hell upon thy enemies sort of way, wrapped up in a healthy dose of that trickster flair.) where as Lucifer has a 'creation' energy. In my experience they get along extremely well.

Anyway sorry for long post >> hope this helps! Feel free to ask more/anything else/tell me to be more concise XD

[nsfwordwitch]

Kinktober 2023 Day 7

Prompt: Clothes Sharing (sfw) Pairing: Astarion x nonbinary tiefling Tav 690 Words

🔞Adults Only Blog🔞

(This story is safe for work though!)

"Hey, big hero! Delivery came for you."

"Who, me?"

Astarion sighs. "Darling, who else could he be talking about?"

"It must be from my parents!" Weft hurries up the stairs of the Elfsong like a child on their birthday. In the middle of their rented room, a large crate is waiting. Weft snaps their fingers and it pops open, revealing piles of clothes wrapped in paper. "Oh they went all out."

Weft starts digging through, separating the contents. "There should be something for everyone," they say, and sure enough, each of them has one soft package with their name on it.

"How did you get my measurements?" Jaheira asks as she holds up a beautifully patterned silk robe.

"I eyeballed it," Weft says. "Sorry if I got anybody's wrong."

"Whoa, soldier, I didn't know you were rich rich," Karlach says, slipping into her own robe. "This thing's got a fire resistance enchantment and everything!"

"Hardly rich, but when you're in the trades, you get perks. Here, Lae'zel, now you don't have to sleep naked."

Lae'zel takes the paper-wrapped nightgown and scowls at it. "You are well aware I prefer to sleep nude. Your gift is useless and offensive."

Astarion can just barely hear Weft whisper to her "It's Shadowheart's favorite color."

"Hm. Very well. Thank you for your…thoughtfulness."

After the gifts are distributed, Weft picks up the remaining clothes and carries them to Astarion's bed.

"Alright," they say to him, "here's the one with your name on it. It's not very…practical. But I think you'll like it."

He unwraps it to find an elegantly made waistcoat, a fine velvet brocade in gold and garnet. "Oh darling, it's beautiful."

"My brother's work, probably. He loves to do brocade. Does it fit?"

"As if you'd get my measurements wrong." He slips into it, and the fit is perfect. "See? How does it look?"

"Quite fetching. Although…I don't know if it goes with your shirt."

"My shirt is two hundred years old, I doubt it goes with anything so au currant."

"Huh. Yeah. I wonder." They dig through the remaining clothes. These are not the pristine gifts sent for the others, but appear to be well worn and cared for.

"Are these your clothes?" he asks softly. Something about the sight of them, this essential part of Weft's life from before, has struck him in a strange way.

"Yep. My favorites, just like I asked for."

"Just your favorites?" he asks, aghast.

Weft laughs. "I know. I have quite a big wardrobe, but when you're the face of a textile family, you can't show up anywhere looking less than your best. Yes, here we go." They hold up a dark gray button-up shirt. "It might be a bit big for you, but…well the colors would work, I think."

He takes the shirt from them, then dances around them to ensure his back is to the window, where the others can't see it. Weft holds the waistcoat and his own shirt while he pulls on their gray one. Their guess was right: it is too big, but he finds it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Despite having surely been in a drawer for several months, it still smells like them.

So little makes him feel safe, these days. The longer they're in the city without confronting Cazador, the more afraid he becomes. He shifts around inside the shirt, adjusting it to sit better on his shoulders, and the smell reaches up and wraps him in calm. He holds his arms out. "Well?"

"It's definitely your color….The oversized look sort of works on you, I think. Like you're an unwell poet who writes three masterpieces a day."

"That's my cheekbones, not the shirt." He holds out a hand. "Waistcoat?" They hand it over and he puts it on. He sees their eyes light up and they put a hand over their mouth. He raises an eyebrow. "That good, hm?"

"Yes. You should wear my shirts more often."

The place where his heart once beat starts to ache. "You have plenty. Perhaps I'll wear one every day."

Weft smiles wide. "Sounds like a plan."

[atlantisknits]

4- Feeling tangled, casting on the Weekend Slipover V-Neck Edition

Hi hello

So, life has been kinda crazy lately…

But, when isn’t it?

I feel like life is forever throwing things at me that I have to try and bat away somehow. However, usually I wind up turning to the same repetitive behaviours. Honestly, knitting probably counts as one of these behaviours- it’s something I can do even when I’m stressed or there’s a lot going on and I don’t need to focus too much of my energy on it and the repetitive motion helps to distract my mind…or allows it to carry on overthinking, but makes me feel better because at least I’m doing something ‘productive’. 

I often find myself feeling guilty or anxious if I’m not doing something ‘productive’ and have found myself boxed in this mindset. However, this is counterproductive as I then overwhelm myself by thinking of all the things I could or should be doing and then just end up avoiding things and procrastinating and this isn’t helping me get anywhere. 

And, I think that’s the thing- I feel so tangled up by everything going on around me I feel trapped in this net and it’s preventing me from moving forward. This also sucks when everyone else around me seems to be moving on with their lives and I’m still trying to find a way out of my parent’s place and into a career that actually suits me and what I want out of my life. 

Even though, yes, it’s possible that knitting has become somewhat of a coping mechanism for me and there’s a chance that perhaps I need to limit time spent knitting to focus on other things. However, knitting has also become a passion and I’m so happy to have stumbled upon this hobby. By ‘passion’, I do not mean to say that I am talented or good at knitting and I want to make a career from it somehow, but if it did ever reach that point I think this would fit in more with my actual dreams and interests to where I’m at currently. As a kid, tween, teen, if I was ever asked what I wanted to do when I grow up my answers would normally consist of artist, fashion designer, writer. Yet, somehow those dreams got undermined and somewhere down the road I had to put them to one side and focus on something more ‘academic’ if I wanted to get myself a decent career.

Well, I studied for four years and now have a degree sat on a shelf doing nothing. I am struggling and find myself turning to creative hobbies in an effort to cope through this and in doing so have re-discovered these old dreams. 

For a while I couldn’t see a future for myself (and I do not mean that to sound as dark as it does but we move lol). The future I had thought out for myself I was basically pulled away from, I then started a new path, that was taken from me and it reached a point where I felt like I had been pushed and pulled in so many different directions that when it came to me actually focusing on myself and what I wanted from my life I couldn’t figure that out- it felt like whatever I would decide on would be the wrong decision. So, I was just left in this tangled mess. 

Yet, as my twenty-seventh birthday looms I realise now more than ever that I must navigate through this and find my way out. It will take some patience with myself as well as my circumstances, but I’m hoping that little by little the more I untangle these knots I will be able to see a future that I want for myself and not a future that has been planned out for me. 

That being said, I believe knitting has taught me a lot of patience. As an anxious person I find myself constantly on edge and this can make me very impatient with pretty much everything. However, I learnt that I couldn’t moan at my own mistakes and errors if I had impatiently rushed through certain parts of a project or skipped over learning certain points properly. I think this has begun to show in the pieces I create and it’s pleasing to see how my work has improved with time. 

I recently cast on the Weekend Slipover V-Neck edition by Petite Knit and since casting it on I’ve noticed how things I have learnt have stuck with me, meaning before I have even finished this project I am feeling a sense of achievement from it and I will take any small wins right now. What’s also great about this project is that it’s an opportunity to finally try out Knitting For Olive yarn! I have been looking to treat myself to some KFO for a while now and after a turbulent couple of weeks I decided I needed a treat. I opted for the Heavy Merino and Soft Silk Mohair both in Plum Clay- the colour is so beautiful, a muted purple colour that looks more brown or purple in certain lighting. I had originally considered a dark brown, but for some reason purple has been on my mind a lot lately and I guess that’s what drew me to this shade. 

There is a rather funny story about this yarn, however. The yarn was shipped from Denmark and then once in the UK I was informed it would be delivered through Royal Mail. I instantly knew that something was going to happen to this parcel and of course I was correct. 

I had gone to the hairdresser’s and returned home to an email that my parcel had been delivered. My dad was home, but there was no parcel in sight and no note to say it had been left next door. I scrolled through the email and all I was offered was an image of my parcel stuffed behind someone’s planter…we don’t have planters nor do our neighbours. So, I had to wander around the block to see if I could spot a planter that looked like the one in the image. After a couple of hours of some questionable detective skills I finally tracked down my parcel- the yarn was found safe and sound thanks to a very nice lady. 

On that note I think I will leave my incoherent ramblings there for today. To whoever is reading this, I hope you are well and if you are also feeling a little caught up in life right now I hope things ease for you soon also.

Happy knitting xo

Images originally featured on my Instagram: atlantis.knits 

[teflonmadonna]

Gradually and Then Suddenly

When asked how he went bankrupt, Earnest Hemingway famously answered, "It happened gradually and then suddenly". This is the exact manner by which I lost my mind. When I say I lost my mind, I mean just that - the ephemeral sprite-like entity took flight from my brain and I could no longer locate it. Was it in my shoes? This idea I entertained for quite sometime, but numerous investigations yielded no results. I just couldn't find it.

My very first memory is from when I was about 4 years old. My dad was driving taxi at the time, keeping strange hours. He was so angry and he drank all the time. My sister and I shared bunk beds. We often talked to one another at night, giggling about the things that children giggle about. Sometimes my father would come home from work and stare at us while we pretended to sleep in an effort to avoid a beating. On some very special days we would stay up until he came home and he would take us to a late night donut shop where I would always get an éclair. One night I stayed up all night and I was able to have dinner with my dad. We sat on the floor and ate (as Sikh people do) and I remember just staring at him, thinking he was the coolest, most awesome Dad and then he threw a plate at me and said, "What is she looking at?!" And that's it. That's the memory. I do not remember who cleaned up the glass shards. I do not remember if I cut myself.

In middle school, I tried to tell my teacher about what was going on at home. Fearing the wrath of my father, I passed along cryptic messages - "my dad is really strict", "my dad is not nice to me" and perhaps the most heartbreaking, "my Dad doesn't like me very much".

Parent-teacher night came around and my Dad took me to school. I remember my teacher and him chuckling about how I was overweight and that I should be forced to run with the other kids despite me having asthma. I coughed day and night every winter. One winter I got pneumonia.

After the parent-teacher interview, my teacher took me aside to say, "Why have you been telling lies about your father? He seems like a great guy!" I just firmly stated, "no, no he's not," and never spoke to anyone about again until I was an adult.

When I was fourteen the whole family went to India. It was not uncommon at the time, to hear of young girls that were "misbehaving" (read: trying to date boys) being taken to India or Pakistan and then trapped there, their passports taken by force. And so, yes, there was some fear around this trip, especially since fourteen was such a prime marrying age. But there was no saying "no" to your parents in those days, so I went and in a stroke of amazing luck, I ended up spending that vacation at my maternal grandfather's home. Those days, with my grandfather, were some of the best of my entire life.

There were bad times too. One day we hired a driver and borrowed my uncle's broken down jalopy to drive five hours to the Taj Mahal. We piled into the car. My aunt and I sat in the trunk. When we had almost reached our destination, I told my dad that I was gonna be sick on account of the bumpy ride and he insisted on continuing on. Then the inevitable happened, it happened all over the back of the car. My dad finally hit the breaks. He was seething.

I was still in a kind of delirium. I began to walk away from the car in search of some water, leaving everyone behind to clean up the mess I had made.

Everyone except my sister, who ran up behind me. When she caught up to me she asked, out of breath, "where are we going?".

I said nothing and wandered towards a gas station where a kind man who owned the station gave us bottled water and told us to stay in his office. We stood unsure what to do and he just reassured us, "It's OK," he said, "you're safe here".

I often think how wrong that situation could have gone. Two young girls, obviously foreigners, wandering around, sick and looking for help.

I waited in his office while my sister ran back to the car to tell them where I was. When my father came to collect me he was met with judgmental eyes. The gas station owner asked my father what he was doing letting his daughters out with no supervision like that. He told my father that he also had daughters and he would never do the same. My father was apologetic and swore we had just gotten out of his sight for one second and then we were gone. He said we had taken flight and he just couldn't find us.

My dad walked back to the car and we followed about five steps behind. Even in the forty degree heat it was almost as though you could see the angry steam coming off of him.

When we got back to the car he announced that we would all be going to the Red Fort. I told my family that I was too sick to go and so they decided to leave me behind with our hired driver to watch over me for good measure. They left and I lay down in the back seat of the car. The driver gingerly placed a heavy wool blanket over me, closed the door and stood outside like a very unexperienced sentry.

I lay there for hours. The sun shone through the window and created greenhouse conditions inside the car. In the dry and extreme heat, even breezes carried no blessings. In fact, there was a wind warming effect and the warm air baked everything that it touched, not unlike an oven.

For the second time that day I evaded death. I was so fevered and delusional that it never occurred to me lying there, in the sweltering heat, with only a blanket and a hot breeze to keep me company that I might want to get myself out in the open air. Instead I sweated out my fever under the blanket until my family came back. I remember my brother saying to me upon their return, "What were you thinking letting him (the driver) put that blanket on you - it's dirty! It probably has fleas and now you probably have fleas."

It would be three decades until I saw the Red Fort. I went there with my father. We were older and more quiet in each other's presence. He no longer wore his turban, a symbol of his Sikh identity and a harbinger of a person who fought for justice . I asked my sister one time why she thought that was and she said, " Maybe he's done some stuff and he doesn't think he should wear it anymore".

Some of my most beautiful memories are of turban wash day when our mom and aunties would wash and starch the turbans and then stretch and fold them. The turbans were red, gold, green, bright pink, all kinds of colours, and about ten or twelve feet long. It took two people to fold them so that they were ready to wrap and wear. On wash day the whole house was full of bright colors.

At the Red Fort, my Dad told me about Shah Jahān, the Mugal Emporer and commissioner of the Taj Mahal who was imprisoned at the Red Fort. Shah Jahān had descended into madness after the death of his favourite queen (he had four) in child birth. He famously commissioned the building of the Taj Mahal as an enormous and opulent home for her casket.

After his queen's death he became obsessed with memorializing of her. During and after the building of the Taj, he instated a program of cutting the hands and plucking out the eyes out of the people who had built it in an effort to make sure no one could recreate it. After the Taj was built, Shah Jahān was given a sample of black marble that he had planned to use to create a second monument for his queen across the river Yamuna. This monument would be even more opulent, the black marble alone was even more rare and expensive than the white marble of the Taj.

The story goes that Shah Jahān had lost all interest in his kingdom in favour of grieving his queen. Of his four sons, one, named Aurangzeb, would successfully dethrone his father. He granted his father's request to be imprisoned in place where he could always have a view of the Taj, so that he may continue to grieve her every day, for the rest of his remaining years. Aurangzeb granted his father's request and jailed him in full view of Taj from a balcony that was engineered to create an optical illusion. From this balcony, The Taj appeared to be larger as you walk away from it.

My fiancé and I had broken up nine years prior to this trip to India. In that moment, shrouded in unbelievable sadness and beauty, I turned to my dad and said, "Pa, things have been really hard since Lee left," and he said, "I know Puter, I know". As he stared off into the distance, at the tomb, I saw tears well up in his eyes.

[kirkizuki]

MEMOIR: Mi Vida

Hello everyone, before I begin telling you about my life, let me first say how grateful I am to have this opportunity to share my story with you. Before I begin, though, I would like you to be aware of a quote I have that states that if I needed to sum up who I am in one word, it would be bad at following instructions.

My name is Rose Tajanlangit. I am currently living in Cordova, Cebu, and I am about to turn 19 years old on this last day of February. I was born on February 28, 2005, but if I forgot where I was born, perhaps I should ask my father. My parents were Crispin Tajanlangit and Cecelia Tajanlangit, but my mother died when I was in grade 10, so my father took care of both of us, and my sister is already in her 2nd year of college now.

My father constantly spoiled me when I was a child, therefore I was a happy child. My mother complained to me getting whatever I wanted as it would be expensive, but my father usually gives me gifts in secret. My father's gift to me will make even my sister envious. I also recalled that I was their favorite sister back before my sister had her older daughter. They used to treat me since I was the younger, but after she gave birth, I felt both excited and sad since all of their attention was on their new baby, and I became envious.

Despite the fact that my sister and I were both lazy, my mother insisted on us doing the housework. We used to get in trouble from her for waking up late. She would handle the household tasks by herself if we got up late, and then she would get upset that no one would assist her in washing those clothing. Whenever I don't have a lesson, I always assist my mother in selling those foods because she used to own a karendera before we even had a sari-sari store. Even though my father worked really hard, my mama would go to great efforts to provide for us since she was a hard worker.

I learned how to do the guys' things from my father as well. I used to be a little older version of my father; I even learnt how to climb a coconut tree when I was younger. I act like a boy when my father is at work. In elementary school, all of friends of mine were boys, so people would often call me a tomboy. As a result, even my family was dubious about my gender until they started accepting me for who I am.

My experience in junior high school was both great and terrible since I came across certain individuals who felt I ought to do negative things, like skipping classes or drinking too much alcohol. Meeting them was also incredible because it gave me the opportunity to do things like go to the beach, attend karaoke, and go for long walks with friends—things I had never done before. Then, in grade 8, I started acting differently. I forced myself to strive to be an achiever rather than a rebellious student, and thank God, I was able to stick with it. I made the change because I knew that if I kept up my bad behavior, my mother would become upset. In addition, even though it took weeks for my mother to return home, that was the year I spent in grade 8 at the hospital.

At the moment, I was so depressed that I was at a loss for what to do. I was also under pressure at school at the time, and there were moments when I considered suicide. Even though I had always been a really devoted person, time has moved on, and I didn't do that at that point. During my feelings of sadness episodes, I would much rather go to the beach to unwind and be away from people.

I merely managed to live despite all the hardships I faced during my eighteen years on this planet because I understood that God was using them as a test to help me grow into a strong lady. Even as a graduating student, I still face many challenges, but I make a self-promise to myself that I can succeed. I'll receive a certificate and a medal upon graduation. I promise to make my father and even myself proud of the person I become in the future.

[dearcraziness]

Chapter 69.

Friends chose ravishing treats for themselves, sat down at the table with a berry pattern and after minutes of early lunch and long conversations rushed to explore the fascinating park.

It was only in the evening that they managed to get around almost all the surroundings; they decided to see the rest another time. Reggie no longer felt depressed, gloomy - the good company shared their optimism and enthusiasm abundantly. At the end of the walk, Alice remembered: she hadn't taken some decorations for furniture at the "Fun Fair" - she and Boris hurriedly returned in order to catch up before closing. The boy got tired, walking slower, holding hands with Bendy and Lara - they didn't mind at all. The demon saw fresh happiness on Reggie's face, and he involuntarily raised the corners of his mouth higher.

"We had a great day, and our meeting with you turned out to be a pleasant surprise." the imp looked at the boy.

"That's right, I was so glad to see you all." Reggie confirmed.

"The five of us should go to wondrous places more often." Lara remarked.

"I agree, we need to get together periodically." Bendy replied. "Reggie, what about your new friends? They couldn't go with you today?"

"Not really..." the boy stammered.

"What's the matter then?..." Lara asked.

"I'm just... I haven't made any friends except you... I really wanted to, but in the area of my house, the guys aren't particularly responsive or sincere..."

"Perhaps if you get to know them better, you will find things in common." Bendy answered.

"And I thought so at first, but... One day I was planting cyclamen in the spring, near the house, when suddenly I heard a couple of sarcastic words in my address... They talked about how I was wasting my time on flowers, and it was better for me to change my hobbies so as not to look like a 'smudge and a half-wit in the clouds'. I refused to accept their point of view - plants attract me, I admire them and I don't see anything wrong with my interests. Well, we haven't talked ever since... And I have nothing to discuss with those rude guys..."

Bendy and Lara looked at each other and turned their eyes to Reggie with compassion.

"I'm sorry about your failure in trying to make new friends, but don't despair." the musician patted the boy on the shoulder. "Experience in any conversation is beneficial, especially since you confidently defended your beliefs. Of course, they shouldn't have spoken negatively about the importance of caring for plants - I myself plant new shoots every year, fertilize them and know all the delights of gardening, therefore I support your commendable care of flower beds. Don't think the other boys don't appreciate the wonders of flora and fauna - you'll definitely find like-minded creaters, and you'll get along."

"In the meantime, don't hesitate to discuss your hobbies with us, with your parents." said the demoness.

"I try to tell a lot." Reggie assured them. "And your cheerful answers are very encouraging to me."

"Splendid, with your sympathetic nature, you'll easily get acquainted with generous, loyal friends." Bendy finished.

The young gardener just smiled and continued on his way with the devils. Interesting thoughts came to his mind, and he, out of habit, expressed them aloud.

"You two remind me of my mom and dad. They support my initiatives, strive to be near me in the moments of my failures, comfort me, give me self-confidence..."

"You have interesting associations." Bendy smiled. "I'm pleasantly surprised by your wonderful point of view. However, know that mistakes in life happen exclusively from your position, if your expectations were completely different. I think we just have our own ways of coping with difficulties, our unique way of thinking, our plans for the future and hopes for them... Having an incomparable art of our own to live, we faithfully follow our style. We should remember: we have to act according to the dictates of our heart, create with our soul, give happiness to relatives and friends, sow comfort and harmony."

"That's right, I hadn't thought about it before... Thank you, Bendy. Thank you all."

"We're also grateful for your excellent qualities." the wizard replied.

Soon Boris and Alice came up, the guys moved faster. Near the Large Forest, Reggie stopped, saying, "I'm going further in the other direction. See you!"

"Wait, we should take you home, it's late." said the magician.

"No need, my house is not far away, I can easily find the path..."

"I think it's unsafe to leave you alone almost at a nighttime."

The others nodded approvingly.

"Well, I don't even know..." Reggie was taken aback.

"Come on, show us the way. Hmm... Wouldn't it be better for you to stay with us? With your parents' permission, of course."

"Great idea - I should ask them. I'll call, wait a little..."

Friends moved away in order not to interfere with the boy's talking; after a couple of minutes, he hung up, flashing a smile.

"They let me, they let me!" he exclaimed excitedly. "I've told them a lot about you, and they trust me well."

"Excellent, let's not delay!" Bendy said cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll like the dishes I cooked for dinner..."

Friends soon got home and came to the kitchen. The imp quickly and with a charming mood fried meat, boiled potatoes, baked a blueberry cupcake in the oven, poured chocolate on top and decorated with cranberries, mint leaves. The guys had dinner, talked, watched an educational film: 'Growing Phlox on Silanju: how to help flowers survive on the planet of Eternal Darkness' and after a few hours went to bed. Bendy gave Reggie his room at his disposal, and the imp fell asleep next to Lara.

In the morning, the young man woke up first, started a routine that didn't bore him. The boy got up later, and nevertheless, early enough. He washed his face, checked the soil of the flowers on the windowsill and, hearing footsteps in the kitchen, followed them. Reggie found the demon cheerful, sat down opposite and was immediately seen.

"Good morning." the cook greeted him. "Did you have good dreams in a new place?"

"Just awesome." Reggie replied. "I dreamed I had mastered boundless magical abilities and populated the flowerbeds with fascinating flowers with just a wave of my hand!..."

"Impressive!... Some magicians are able to move mountains by rising a finger - after a long practice; however, for me, it's more interesting to carry out the plans with the least use of spells - the process itself becomes more amazing..."

"Yes, the activity can also be shared with friends."

"You're right. Kindness, sincerity manifest themselves with creatures close in spirit, a bright, powerful miracle of feelings naturally increases..."

After breakfast and a short cleaning in the kitchen, Bendy suggested making decorations for garlands for Halloween, cutting sinister faces on pumpkins in the spirit of the upcoming holiday. Everyone agreed and set about inspiring work. First, they made silhouettes of bats, cats, witches' hats, lightning bolts out of black cardboard, fastening the images on dense threads; then they pulled out the autumn leaves raked the day before, painted them white, drawed eyes and mouth un them - the once orange inhabitants of tree branches turned into spooky ghosts; pals also found old scratched glass jars, painted them in red, green, ocher shades, put lanterns with bright lights, pasted funny faces on top, giving the appearance of pumpkins or some strange creatures; friends inflated balloons, tied them with a thin string, handing around garlands.

Suddenly, while making pumpkin figurines and papier-mache hats, Reggie asked, "Why don't we cut out pictures of spiders anywhere?"

"Well, you can make them if you want." Bendy began. "But we try not to use them, because some of us are afraid of them."

"I understand, many creatures are afraid of these insects. You meant Lara and Alice, right?"

"No, Boris."

"Hey!" the mechanic responded. "I don't like them at home, they don't scare me outside."

"You have a negative attitude towards them not only in our studio, buddy." the demon said.

"Yes, I don't argue - I don't like their creepy paws and big bodies."

"Calm down, we don't judge you. You have the right to be afraid of unpleasant insects."

"Okay, fine."

"Here, we'll glue the details on our figures and move on to another leisure. For example, playing chess..."

"I'd like to stay, but my parents called me this morning and told me to go back home. They were going to take me with them to a picnic by the Lonely Oak..."

"In that case, we'll finish the crafts and take you home."

"Okay, I'll be happy to take a walk with you."

The guys smiled, decorating their paper crafts. Bendy created a bright pumpkin with a witch's hat, Lara had a bat covered with shiny varnish, Alice had a cauldron with a broom studded with rhinestones and beads, Boris painted a striped cat with huge eyes, Reggie applied ink by making streaks on an umbrella from which threads with miniature rats, crows, on which hung fly, agarics grew. Friends were speaking enthusiastically about the efforts of everyone, noticing the most subtle nuances. The boy took his figurine and things, the guys were already heading for the exit, when suddenly friends, smiling broadly, handed him their creative crafts.

"Keep them to yourself, Reggie." Bendy said. "Let them decorate your table not only on the holiday of mysticism, mysteries."

"Are you giving them to me for good?..." the boy was surprised.

"Exactly, they'll bring Halloween mood to your room." Lara said.

"Thanks a lot, friends... I'll definitely find original souvenirs for you!"

"You know it's not necessary." Bendy replied. "Our presents are free of charge."

"But I'll give you presents anyway." Reggie insisted kindly.

The boy really lived near the Large Forest: in a thicket of birches, aspens, lime trees, cedar, there was a brick house with a brown roof and a fenced garden. The youth opened the lead gate and turned to the others.

"Next time I'll invite you to visit us, I think my parents will allow me. See you soon, guys, you're the best!"

"So are you." pals responded eagerly.

Waving after each other, everyone returned to their homes, to their comfortable corners. Bendy and Lara were reading dreamy, touching novels, heartfelt, tender poems for a long time. It was time for lunch, and the devils decided to cook dishes together. They got up from the table, as suddenly the young man remembered a recent phrase, chuckled softly, meekly, looking at the girl with care.

"But Reggie's right." the little devil spoke up. "We actually look like a long-engaged couple."

"And I remember his words." the imp agreed. "Even if we are not getting married soon, we're so close."

"In how many years presumably you imagine our wedding, sweetheart?..."

"Hmm... At first it's interesting to hear your version..."

"I'm inclined to believe we'll get married after another five years or more - I'm sure we'll feel ready... However, it's too early to say for sure, we'll see the implementation of our long-term plans in the future... One thing I know for sure: now we are happy, we are together, my love for you burns with renewed vigor from day to day, and I'll bring joy and bliss into your life for all eternity... We may not be considered husband and wife yet, but you are already my family... You are the dearest to me, you're so precious..."

"Sometimes I'm surprised at your frankness, attentiveness to me... Then I immediately realize I have no secrets from you either, I value you indescribably..."

"I need only you, sweetheart, more than sunlight, air..." Bendy bent down, wrapped his arm around Lara's back and arms, gently took her forearm with his hand, lovingly touching his lips to the top of the demoness's head, lingering for a couple of moments. "Only your individuality, your exceptional, dazzling personality, your perception of the world around you, your manner of behaviour, your attitude to reality, your lifestyle have sunk deep into my soul... I'd like to be alone with you as long as possible... Peering into your eyes, wondering about the course of your thoughts... Stay yourself, tulip, from year to year... My only addition, a tiny request - try to love yourself almost as much as I love you..."

From the last words of the musician, the imp shuddered slightly. He was taken aback, hurried to calm her down, wrapping her in his welcoming embrace, stroking her curls for a long time.

"Buttercup, were you confused by my expressions?..."

"No, lemon, not at all... They were so touching..."

"Orchid, but you also treat yourself very well?..."

"Of course, honey, but don't forget: I love you much more... Find time for yourself, appreciate your unique qualities..."

"I try, but my key task is to please you every day, share my optimism with you, fishy..."

"You succeed perfectly..."

"Do you feel protection, stability around you?..."

"Only when I'm with you..."

"With you I find a real precious home, carnation... You have a brilliant art of turning monotonous hours into a celebration, the skill to assign deep, weighty properties to ordinary occupations..."

Sweethearts hugged each other tighter, listening to the silence, the lull. Dinner would wait, just like a magnificent conversation with friends - the main thing for them was to be alone, to stretch out sweet moments, to talk, in addition, not in the usual way, but silently - with souls. Often they have enough of a glances to understand the reflections of the beloved creature. But sometimes they wanted to hear the silky, quiet voice of someone close in spirit, to the heart. The seconds, the moments of the morning burned out like candles. And the feelings, emotions captured from them remained indefinitely, forever.

After that, conversations with the rest of the guys began, and laughter, and exclamations. And again, a stream of elusive impressions flowed through the space of delightful being. The meal was eaten, the dishes were washed, the table was cleaned, the floor was swept. Friends this time didn't let Bendy work alone, they rushed to help him, speeding up the difficult restoration of order, facilitating everyone's activities by the following simple method - dividing it among themselves, enjoying realizing their role without being afraid of difficult tasks.

[soulmate-game]

Harley’s Plea for Help: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

“How long do you think it’s gonna take before she decides to sneak out?” Nightwing asked over his comms, lazily leaning against the balcony railing in front of him with his head resting on one hand.

“Dude, I started sneaking out almost twenty minutes ago,” a girl’s voice made Nightwing squeak and turn around, to reveal a teenage girl leaning against the door that led to the balcony he was on. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by doing unnecessarily showy gymnastics down from my hotel room’s balcony, no matter how much fun that would be, so I just snuck out one of the hotel’s back exits. Then I looked up to admire the moon and saw you here, staking out what is clearly my suite, and decided to come pay you a visit.”

“How long have you been there? And how did you even get behind me? I hope you didn’t break and enter, that’s an actual lived-in apartment behind us right now,” Nightwing asked, turning around to analyze the daughter of Harley Quinn for the first time in person.

She looked just like in her pictures, of course. Jet black hair like her father’s, except it seemed to have a bluish shine in the light. And her eyes were definitely Harley’s— thank goodness for that —vibrant blue and clearly analyzing him with the same amount of intensity as his did her. He had to bite back a chuckle. In a turn of complete irony, she really did look like a Wayne kid. Fit all of Bruce’s usual criteria to be adopted. But she was tiny, even smaller than Harley’s lithe form. He, Bruce, and Tim were of the hypothesis that the exposure both her parents had to Ace Chemical’s vats of acid likely had an effect on her DNA that stunted her growth. Perhaps there were other effects that they wouldn’t be able to figure out until they got to know her better, too, though it was clear that her skin was a likely one. It wasn’t unnaturally pale like her parent’s after their acid dips but it was paler than normal for sure, just a shade or two shy of being paper white.

And he could see, now, what Harley meant when she referred to Marinette as a powerhouse. It wasn’t very noticeable in pictures, but up close Dick could see the carefully honed muscle of an acrobat curling over her otherwise slim build. Combined with the knowledge that Marinette had been taught at least some serious self defense from a young age, he could see how such a tiny package could be a remarkable threat when necessary.

Marinette grimaced as the other Batfam, who were all nearby staking out her room from different angles, dropped onto the large balcony with them.

“Uh, well. I didn’t break and enter, I rather not get off to a criminal-ly start on my first night in Gotham, you know? But I realized that even though I was able to figure out the exact room you were staking me out from, I realized as soon as I got into the first floor of the building that I had no idea how to actually get to you. So I just climbed the stairs all the way to the roof and scaled my way down to this balcony, and pretended I’ve been here for a while when really I was barely able to hear you ask when I was gonna sneak out. I’m still out of breath, actually,” she put a hand on her chest and sure enough her breathing was still slightly fast. But not enough to be worrying or even all that noticeable. Yet another piece of evidence to show that she was a very active individual and had resistance built up to physical activity.

“Yup,” Robin groused grumpily, crossing his arms. “With all that rambling, you couldn’t be anyone else’s child but Quinzel’s.”

Marinette’s face immediately flushed pink all the way to her ears. “I’m sorry! I’ve been trying so hard to quit that habit, too!” She grumbled a bit to herself, putting her face in her hands. They all chuckled at the display. Red Hood ambled over, draping his arm over her shoulders (he nearly had to bend in half to do it, the height difference was that bad).

“As adorable as your freak out is, why’d you even come up here anyway? There’s no way you’d scale down a ten-story building just to say hello.”

She let out a heavy sigh at that, slowly peeling her face out of her hands. “Yeah, I recognized you guys right away. And honestly, as much as Momma Harley would be super proud of me for managing to give an entire group of vigilantes the slip, she’d also ground me for life if she found out that I saw you guys and still snuck away even though she probably swallowed her pride and asked you guys to babysit me, right? Self preservation. Contrary to popular belief, I do actually have some.”

“Wait,” Red Robin held up a hand, brows clearly furrowed under his cowl. “You expected her to ask for our help?”

“Well,” she made a so-so motion with her hand. “I didn’t think of it beforehand, but it all clicked once I saw Nightwing. I know how much my mom is worried about me, especially since you-know-who broke out a few days ago. She is more than worried enough to ask you guys for help. Even if she does complain about you guys, a lot actually, she also has made it clear that she trusts you guys with the stuff that actually matters.

“‘You know who’?” Batman repeated, arms crossed. If Marinette squinted, she thought there might have been a grin on his lips. “Is that how you always refer to him?”

“What else am I gonna call him?” she asked, face going deadpan. “Sperm donor? Source of a large amount of my self doubt and depreciation? The prime reason I haven’t been able to see my mom in person more often over the years? Oh, I know! How about I just always refer to him as ‘that bastard I wanna punch,’? That sounds good!” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Only one person in this world has the right to be considered my father in any capacity, and it sure as hell isn’t him. Genetics notwithstanding.”

Red Hood straight up guffawed at that, landing several rough pats on her back that made the girl stumble a bit. “Yep, I like this one! But as fun as it would be to see you give that jackass a mean left hook, it’s better if he never finds out who you are or knows that you’re here,” the vigilante’s voice got dark and serious very quickly. “He doesn’t forget people he finds interesting easily, and if he ever finds out about the connection you have to him, he’ll be a constant threat in your life.”

“I know,” Marinette agreed with a nod. “And if this conversation was happening two years ago, I’d say that my mom’s concerns aren’t unfounded. That I am too easily emotionally compromised and despite my deep seated issues and hatred for that man, I couldn’t guarantee he would be unable to get to me.”

Batman straightened up, as did all of his sons around him. None of them had missed the ‘if’ there. Batman’s voice went from charmingly deep to it’s usual gruff grumble. “What changed in two years?”

They all watched as Marinette gulped, taking a deep breath as she stalled for time, looking out at the view on the balcony before seeming to steel herself and return her gaze to Batman’s. When she did, it was suddenly full of iron will.

“I didn’t lie when I told Mom that I came to visit her— but that isn’t the whole truth, either. If I just wanted to visit her in Gotham, I would have waited until I was eighteen like we agreed. But I can’t wait, Paris can’t keep going on like this. I entered that contest because it was the fastest way to see you. I didn’t know if I would win, but… I had to take the chance. There was no way I’d be able to get to Gotham behind my mom’s back otherwise.”

“What are you talking about?” Robin hissed, stepping up to his father’s side. “Paris has been silent. If anything were happening, we would have heard about it by now.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Marinette corrected, never losing that ironclad look in her eyes. “Because a combination of magic and politics is keeping it quiet. No news about Paris’ situation is able to leave the city limits. Magic makes any non-native who leaves Paris think that everything they experienced was just a crazy dream. Natives won’t forget, but politics has all of us under very strict NDAs if we leave city boundaries, and all of our local news and social media is blocked from being accessed by anyone outside the city. But, I figured a little breaking of the rules wouldn’t exactly put a stain on my family’s reputation or anything, so,” she dug in her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive, holding it up for all of them to see. She swallowed again, but never stopped her eye contact with Batman. She held out the thumb drive.

“I came to Gotham to ask for your help. This sped things up, I didn’t expect to see you on my first night here, but two years in Hawkmoth’s Paris has really taught me how to roll with the punches. This,” she shook the thumb drive. “Holds videos of every fight since HawkMoth first showed up. It has all the information I’ve gathered over two years, tracks his movements and lists all his targets and— everything. But I’m not a detective, I’m a designer. I make clothes, I spar on the weekends, I am not good at getting evidence to prove that someone is a magic-abusing villain holding an entire city hostage.”

“We’re gonna need some details, Little Q,” Red Hood finally removes his arm from around her shoulders, instead crossing his arms and looking down at her sternly. “If your city has a villain holding it hostage, is anyone fighting him? And if you do have someone fighting him, why don’t you need our help, or why didn’t they call the Justice League? The JLE should be in Paris, right?”

Marinette snorted, face scrunching up in obvious distaste. “I’ll have to answer those a little out of order. First; the JLE was kicked out of Paris. They moved their headquarters to Italy about five years ago, I’m just surprised they apparently kept that secret from you,” she gestured to all of them, who indeed seemed very caught off guard by that tidbit. But Marinette just sighed and continued. “Though that’s a good thing, actually. We do have heroes, it started out as just a pair but it’s grown into a small team out of necessity. They didn’t call the Justice League because the last thing we need is any powered heroes coming in and making it worse— your league doesn’t have the best reputation for letting newer heroes take the lead even on their home turf, you know,” she pointed out, which made Batman shift a bit guiltily. He knew the JL was often a bit… heavy handed in their methods.

“What makes the situation so bad that you don’t want to bring experienced heroes into it?” Red Robin cut in, sounding as if the whole situation was a puzzle he was determined to sort out. Which, really, was exactly what Marinette had been counting on. She shot him a finger gun, grinning.

“That’s exactly the point! Hawkmoth uses a magical artifact, like I said— but this artifact can brainwash anybody who experiences even the slightest negative emotion. Sadness, anger, fear— anything negative. And it gives them powers, but puts them largely under his influence,” her expression twisted again, this time into a wry little grimace. “I guess you can say that my momma’s psychiatry background has secretly come in handy a lot over these past two years. And Hawkmoth is exactly why I try to tell Momma Harley to stop visiting me— I have worked my butt off to keep her from finding out about his attacks or getting Akumatized. Every time she shows up it gives me a heart attack!”

“Akumatized?”

Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “It’s the term used for when someone is turned into a super powered villain because of HawkMoth. The brainwashing— really it’s more similar to a straight up corruption. The person usually lacks their usual moral compass, and just seeks to soothe whatever set off their negative emotion in the first place. Usually, that means they seek a bloody revenge. And if someone who already has extensive training or extremely strong powers gets Akumatized, guess what?” She made jazz hands even though her face was deadpan. “Extra powers, or amplified ones, for the metas or superheroes who are Akumatized. And imagine what someone with, say, Batman’s level of experience could do if he had powers and no moral compass,” the silence that followed her words was deafening. She just nodded, knowing she had gotten her point across. “I’ve been working my butt off to stay positive, because if I’m Akumatized…” her shoulders fell, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. “... I have no idea what I’d turn into, but if you take into consideration both my training and my family history… it’s really best if we never find out what kind of magic-powered supervillain I’d make.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Nightwing said after another long moment of silence for that to all sink in. He gestured at her with an open palm. “You’ve been dealing with a terrorist for two years who targets emotional vulnerability, you apparently have never been corrupted by this magic at least to present day, but your mother still worries about you being very emotionally fragile. And your heroes are not detectives, which is clearly what you need or you wouldn’t have asked us for our help.”

Marinette nodded. “I used to be very impressionable. At the start of all this, I was a huge people-pleaser. I got attached to new people in a matter of minutes. My mom always said I reminded her too much of herself— but two years of fighting off a guy trying to get into my head—“

“Wait,” Batman nearly barked, taking a step forward. “He’s been targeting you? You specifically?”

Marinette nodded grimly, mouth a straight line. “Not from the beginning, but this past year it’s been painfully obvious. He might be able to sense the strength of people’s emotions, and unfortunately I don’t exactly experience my emotions very… gently. All of my emotions tend to the much more intense side of the spectrum. If that’s true, then he might know that any negative emotion I feel will make an extremely strong Akuma. Either that, or he’s going by process of elimination. All of my friends, except for one, have been Akumatized already. So has my Papan and my grandmother. But it’s obvious when he’s targeting someone, I’ve felt him try to override my will on several occasions. But I can’t just repress all of my negative emotions forever, so consider us working against the clock right now. That thumb drive has all the details you need about our heroes, how exactly Hawkmoth’s powers work, and so on.”

“Do your heroes know you’re asking for our help?” Red Robin asked, gaze burning a figurative hole through Marinette’s face. “Better yet, if this drive has as much information as you say it does, how did you get it?”

Marinette handed the drive over to Batman, who finally took it and tucked it in his belt as she answered.

“Momma Harley might have a lot to say about your detective skills, but you are all still strangers to me. So consider this a test of your abilities— I expect that you will all go to extreme lengths to verify all of the information I gave you anyway. After all, I’m still the daughter of your most hated enemy. Right?” She met each of their gazes, one by one, with a challenging one of her own. “You’ll just have to figure out my connection to the heroes on your own. And how I got the information, too. It shouldn’t be too hard for the so-called world’s greatest detectives. And maybe this can double as a trust exercise. I fully expect you guys to scour through every inch of my past, and dig up everything you can on me. I encourage you to try to find everything you can, so that hopefully you can decide to trust me on your own once you have all the details laid out in front of you. By the way, for your own sanity? I’d start with reading about all of our heroes’ powers and abilities before you watch any footage of past attacks.”

Red hood rocked back on his heels, trading glances with the other vigilantes before they all shared a nod. Apparently having decided their course of action, Red Hood leaned down and hoisted Marinette up into a princess carry. All traces of her previous iron will melted away in favor of the high pitched squeal of surprise she gave, and once more she became an overly flustered teenager.

“Alright, little cutie. Let’s get you to your mom’s place before she and her crazy plant lady fiancé come hunting us down.”

“I can walk! I can freerun on my own! Mon dieu please let me down! Eeeeek!” She squealed again as Robin slapped a domino mask over her eyes and Red Hood wasted no time jumping over the balcony railing with her still in his arms. The fact that they were lowered down by a wire wrapped around Hood’s waist didn’t seem to take away any of the fright that came with a sudden drop over an eighth-story balcony.

Part 1

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman (didn’t work sorry)

[robininthelabyrinth]

We’ve heard Jiang Fengmian as WWX’s bio father, now it’s time for Lan Qiren as secretly his father. (Please no Wangxian for this one!)

ao3

“You want me to what,” Lan Qiren said.

“Be the father of my child,” Cangse Sanren said. Simply and straightforwardly, as if that were just a thing people said.

Casually.

To their friends.

To their – as far as he knew – platonic friends!

“You’re married,” he stressed.

“Yes, Qiren-xiong, I’m aware,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes bright with mirth. “I was even there through some of the festivities. Though not all, of course, since the bride gets sent away far too early at these things, and of course then there was all the liquor –”

“Cangse Sanren,” Lan Qiren said through gritted teeth, wishing not for the first time that his friend had an actual name rather than merely a title – something he could use or not use to emphasize his feelings on the subject.

She laughed at him, because of course she did.

“Let me explain,” she said, probably because she sensed that he was considering stabbing her if she didn't. “Lao Wei and I ��”

“Aren’t you older than he is?” Lan Qiren asked, dubious. “Possibly by several centuries?”

“Humans call their husbands that,” Cangse Sanren said, waving her hands at him. “Don’t bother me with details.”

“…you’re human, right?”

“Of course! This is the fourth time you’ve asked, and the answer hasn’t changed. Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“The way that you continuously refer to – no, I’m not letting you distract me this time. Explain yourself!”

Cangse Sanren giggled into her sleeve. “We want children,” she said. “But he can’t, you see. Wrong parts. So we need someone else to be the sire, and I want it to be you.”

“Why?”

More giggling. “Because I like you. And why not?”

“And Wei Changze agreed to this?” Lan Qiren asked, slightly appalled. He knew Cangse Sanren well enough to assume that the answer had to be yes, and yet still...

“Yes, he did, but you’re welcome to talk with him directly. In fact, I encourage it.”

“Perhaps I will,” Lan Qiren said.

Wei Changze was a pleasant person, even if he and Lan Qiren weren’t direct friends – Lan Qiren was a bit too inflexible and serious, Wei Changze a little too free-spirited and light-hearted, so they’d never entirely bonded, but they were both very fond of Cangse Sanren in all her strangeness, each in their own way, and that was enough of a basis for a decent relationship.

“I’d be honored if you would agree,” Wei Changze said when Lan Qiren asked. “You’re my wife’s favorite person besides me – why not you?”

Lan Qiren could think of many, many reasons why not.

“I don’t want to impact your relationship with her,” he said cautiously, and Wei Changze blinked at him as if to say how would it do that? “If jealousy were to arise…”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Wei Changze said.

“…you understand that if I agree to your proposal, I would be sleeping with your wife.”

“Oh yes,” Wei Changze said. “Several times, I hope. We've got to make sure it takes, after all. On that note, can I watch?”

Lan Qiren was a man aware of his dignity. It was beneath his dignity to flail around like a teenager.

He flailed regardless.

“You don’t have to let me if you don’t want to,” Wei Changze said, but he was pouting. “I guess. I just think it’d be hot, that’s all.”

Lan Qiren put his head in his hands.

“You’re bright red,” Wei Changze observed. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t even like Cangse Sanren that way,” Lan Qiren said, voice muffled by his palms. “I mean, I like her, but I don’t – like her. Romantically. At all.”

“And I’m very happy about that,” Wei Changze said soothingly. “As is she, being as she married me and not you. You don’t need to have romantic or even sexual feelings about her, you just need to platonically bang her a few times.”

“…I will do it provided you never refer to it that way ever again.”

“Deal,” Wei Changze said, and grinned, waving his wife in through the door; she bounded in like a lion on the hunt, smelling blood.

“Additionally, we should be clear about what we expect regarding the child,” Lan Qiren said, even though he was already being carted along to the bed by Cangse Sanren’s excessive momentum and Wei Changze’s entirely unnecessary assistance in removing his clothing. “Obviously any child will be yours in every respect, legally and emotionally and otherwise, both of you, but if possible I would still like to see him –”

“Of course,” Cangse Sanren said agreeably, removing his pants. “Whenever you like.”

-

“Something is wrong,” Lan Qiren said firmly.

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him, even as her husband frowned thoughtfully. “Cangse Sanren is a rogue cultivator,” she said acidly. “It is not unusual for rogue cultivators to go a few months without contacting their friends in the cultivation world.”

“We have an agreement that she would come by once every season or else send word. She has not missed a single instance, and yet now she does.”

“Why would she agree to meet so regularly with you? We barely see her once a year, if that,” Yu Ziyuan asked, and Lan Qiren knew her issues with Cangse Sanren were actually issues with Jiang Fengmian, but it still irritated him to be used as a pawn in their troubled marriage.

“If you do not intend to help me search, then just say so,” he said heavily. “I fear that something has happened to her, and I intend to find her; I would like your help, but will proceed without it if need be. If all is well and she just decided not to come, and also not to send word or any other sign, then I will apologize for the inconvenience and repay you any monies expended. But if not…”

“I will help,” Jiang Fengmian said, and Yu Ziyuan looked on the verge of exploding.

“I’ll leave you to sort that out,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his sleeves and leaving at once. As per their agreement, Cangse Sanren brought Wei Ying to the Cloud Recesses once every season or else sent word explaining her absence – the lack of any word this time was deeply troubling. After all, in the end, despite Cangse Sanren’s relatively humble goals and low-key life, there was always that doom said to be associated with those who left the immortal mountain…

He worried.

He’d planned to tell Cangse Sanren about He Kexin’s death during her present visit, had hoped that Wei Ying’s presence might help lift Lan Zhan’s mood after the loss of his mother and give him some comfort – Wei Ying was Lan Zhan’s favorite person in all the world, bar none, and he had waited so anxiously, if wordlessly, for him to arrive during the month that they expected Cangse Sanren and her family to come. And yet the days ticked by and he didn’t arrive at all…

Lan Qiren worried.

Still, with Jiang Fengmian’s help, and of course the Nie sect’s – Lao Nie hadn’t hesitated to agree, even though unlike Jiang Fengmian he did not have a personal connection to either Cangse Sanren or Wei Changze and was acting wholly on account of his friendship with Lan Qiren – they would be able to cover a great deal of the cultivation world, especially given that Cangse Sanren disliked both Lanling Jin and Qishan Wen and was unlikely to venture into either of their territories.

They would find her.

He hoped that they would find her.

-

“Well, that was a meeting full of revelations,” Lao Nie said, eyes curved into crescents of mirth. “The only thing that would have made it better is if you’d ended your sentence with ‘so fuck off’. You know, so that it would’ve been ‘Because he’s my biological son, so fuck off’.”

“It isn’t anyone else’s business,” Lan Qiren said querulously. “I don’t consider him my son – he’s Wei Changze’s son! His surname is Wei for a reason! The exact mechanics of his conception are private-”

“Are they? Too bad, I’d have liked to hear about it.”

“Lao Nie!”

“What? It’d be hot.”

“Wei Changze said the same thing,” Lan Qiren grumbled. “What is wrong with all you people? Anyway, that was not my point; we can discuss your sexual titillation later. My point is that Wei Ying should not have a shadow cast over his parentage – I should not have had to reveal that fact at any point.”

“You had no choice,” Lao Nie said, not without sympathy. “Given that Wei Changze was a former disciple of the Lotus Pier, Jiang Fengmian had the better claim to custody absent that fact. Never mind that you were Cangse Sanren’s close friend, or that they came to visit you more often; never mind that Yu Ziyuan is to this day only barely able to restrain her jealousy and hatred of the pair of them and would be made miserable by the boy’s presence on the Lotus Pier, and possibly make his life miserable in return; never mind that Jiang Fengmian already grossly favors the boy over his own children, a surefire recipe for disaster…you had to say what you said, Qiren. Wei Ying will be better off at the Cloud Recesses.”

“He’ll be a disaster at the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren said, rubbing his temples. “He’s as free-spirited as his parents were. That’s the only hesitation I have…if it weren’t for all the other things you mentioned, Yu Ziyuan’s jealousy and the favoritism and all that, I would think he’d be better off among the Jiang.”

“He will make a very unique Lan,” Lao Nie acknowledged. “But he’ll be an adopted cousin to your nephews, and they’ll grow up as brothers. A-Zhan will be delighted.”

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, acknowledging the point. At least there was that. “Yes, he will.”

“Maybe I’ll have a talk with Jiang Fengmian,” Lao Nie said, more to himself than Lan Qiren. “That poor Jiang boy, no one deserves to grow up with a real-life person being ‘another person’s child’. Perhaps I’ll see about inviting the boy over to the Unclean Realm more often. A-Sang could use a playmate…”

-

“You’re weird for a Lan,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That’s because I’m not a Lan,” Wei Wuxian laughed. “I’m a Wei! Lan Zhan’s a Lan, Xichen-da-ge is a Lan, but I’m not. Don’t let the white robes mislead you.”

Jiang Cheng coughed. “That’s not – what I meant.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him.

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly looking extremely awkward. “Your father’s a Lan, isn’t he? Teacher Lan.”

“Oh, that! No, he’s not. Easy mistake to make,” Wei Wuxian assured him. “Lots of people think that, what with me knowing the Lan sect rules backwards and forwards and upside down – mostly so that I can haggle my punishments down when I break them, that's how I learn them best – but actually I’m Wei Changze’s son.”

Jiang Cheng’s face was red. “But…my dad said…”

“He helped,” Wei Wuxian conceded, tapping his nose meaningfully. “That’s why I’m so pretty! But Wei Changze was the one that wanted me, Wei Changze’s the one who gave me his surname; it’s his grave I sweep during Qingming. If you like, you can think of me as having been adopted into the Wei family; that’s common enough, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Jiang Cheng said, blinking. And then he said, sounding doubtful, “Do you really know all those rules?”

“All of them! You have no idea how much trouble you can make with a good set of rules.” Wei Wuxian grinned. “Want to see?”

“I – can we?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said, stepping into the room. He looked tired, as always, but Wei Wuxian thought that there was never a time when he didn’t, certainly ever since he became sect leader too early. Lan Xichen was always worrying about him, and Lan Qiren, too, and since they were worried, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had figured they might as well get in on the action. “Not in the Unclean Realm you can’t. Save it for the Lotus Pier, since the Cloud Recesses are too wise to you now.”

“No one is truly wise to my wicked ways,” Wei Wuxian boasted, and Nie Huaisang poked his head out from behind Nie Mingjue’s back and waved – he’d been dragged away to saber training, leaving Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng to try to make friends without him. Without Lan Wangji, too, which was even more unfair; how was Wei Wuxian supposed to represent the gentle snow and wild wind without his other half?

Stupid seclusion. Wei Wuxian was with his uncle in disliking it even when it was necessary.

Though Jiang Cheng was kind of cool…

-

“This is,” Lan Qiren informed Cangse Sanren’s memorial tablet, “entirely your fault.”

Despite her son’s newfound demonic cultivation skills – or his taste for revenge: he had taken the burning of the Cloud Recesses very personally, and the attack on the Lotus Pier, and so on his best friend Jiang Cheng, very nearly as badly, and that, somehow, had inspired him in new and even more uncontrolled ways – there was no response from the grave.

And yet, somehow, Lan Qiren suspected that he could hear her laughing at him.

[fivelakesinwriting]

first fight with barry?? and reader sleeps on the couch and holds a grudge but fluff ending

Author's Notes: Barry forgets about an important event in his relationship with girl... Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If this was your request, I hope you love it! xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drinking, Arguing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos and Fluff .

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Barry didn't like to break promises. To him, his word was as good as any legally binding document. If he told you he was going to do something, then he would do it.

When she asked him to meet her parents, he told her that he would. He didn't give her a date or a specific time. Perhaps that was his way of getting out of it at some point. He didn't "meet" parents. Mostly because he had never really been a serious relationship kind of guy.

One night stands, or a couple of weeks with someone was the most he could really stand to have someone in his space. Yet, this woman got 365 days out of him. And counting.

It had been a long, and hot day. Barry felt like he had pulled himself over the finish line for a job that didn't really have a punch out time. He slouched on the couch, head rested back on the cushions while he stared at the ceiling and pressed an unopened can of beer to the base of his throat.

His exhausted body perked up as he heard the distinct click of his favourite pair of her high heels across his kitchen floor. He rolled his head over the back of the couch and looked his woman up then down in a red dress, far too fancy to be hanging out with a guy like him.

"All dressed up, but you know I only like the shoes." Barry smirked his thumb brushing over his top lip, over the little bit of scruff there before he reached over to pop the top of his beer can.

"You aren't even dressed! We have to leave to meet my parents like, now." She replied with wide eyes as she looked him over on the couch, still in his baggy shorts and worn out tank with the loose collar.

"Shit. That was tonight, wasn't it?" Barry sighed as he placed his beer on the scuffed up coffee table in front of him, then ran both of his tired hands over his face. He couldn't believe he had forgotten, she had been reminding him all week long and had even put a fucking pink post- it note on the fridge to remind him.

So every time you get a beer, you remember our big date.

"Are you kidding me, Barry?" She scoffed with a shake of her head, holding her weight on the small counter beside her as she looked him up and down.

"I'm sorry, alright? Been a shit week, and I forgot. Can we reschedule?" Barry mumbled into the palms of his hands, embarrassed to show her his face.

"No! You know we can't! My parents are only in town for tonight and tomorrow. Tonight was supposed to be our dinner with them, then tomorrow they're visiting their friends. Barry, this was important." She argued with a stomp of her foot as she grabbed her phone off the charger, presumably to text her parents that the dinner was off.

"And I'm sorry! What else you want me to say?" Barry glared as he pulled his hands from his face then stood up as he slowly walked over to her, his eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at her. Suddenly, he didn't like her red dress so much any more.

"What to tell my parents, would be a good start." She spat as she turned around and sent him a glare of her own.

"Typical Kook Princess, huh? Bet they don't know even know what I do for a living. Bet you told them I'm still at one of those jobs I fucking quit." Barry grumbled as he grabbed her phone from her neatly manicured hands and held it above her head.

"And what was I supposed to tell them? That the guy I love is the fucking biggest drug dealer in the OBX? That would make my Mama so proud of me." She responded with a push of his firm chest before she tried to reach for her phone, standing on her toes to grab it.

"At least I'm good at something. Think they'd be proud you fucking someone successful at something." Barry mumbled his top lip curling as he held her phone higher above his head, just to taunt his short lover.

"Successful? That's a stretch." She glared with another slap to his chest before she gave up trying to get her phone back then turned on her heel and walked back to the bedroom.

"Oh, fuck you. Because I don't got my name on a desk or a fucking door like your Daddy doesn't mean I'm not worthy. Don't be a Kook bitch." Barry spat as he walked after her, tossing her phone onto the counter. He wasn't done with her, even if she was done with him.

"Don't follow me." She glared a finger pointed at his chest as she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"It's my house!" Barry yelled with his arms outstretched, gesturing to the small home they stood in.

"Fine. I'm going to dinner with my parents, and if I come back tonight I'll sleep on the couch. I'll see you later." She sighed as she grabbed her purse and brushed passed him, walking towards the door.

"Don't walk out on me." Barry growled as he stomped after her, hot on her heels.

She didn't reply. She was as stubborn as he was most of the time, playfully so more often than not. And of course he had to test it during their first fight. He caught the screen door as he came back at his face after she pushed it open and stalked outside. He held the door open and watched his love stomp down the dirt path towards the road where her car was parked.

"Just come back! Please!" Barry yelled as he ran a hand through his hair before he released his hold on the door and let is swing shut.

By the time Barry went to sleep that night, close to midnight, she wasn't home. He felt sick to his stomach, and he would be lying if he said his heart didn't ache either. It was their first big fight and he hated that he had let her leave like that. He hated that he let her leave at all.

The whole time she had been gone he went over the fight in his head, thinking of ways he could have approached it differently.

Should have just gone to the stupid fucking fancy dinner, Barry.

There's probably not that many forks to remember, Barry.

Those people made Her, so how bad could they possibly be?

By the time midnight rolled around Barry could hardly keep his eyes open, despite the way his heart raced in his chest pumping anxiety into his veins. She was supposed to be beside him, like she always was. She was supposed to be curled up beside him, in one of his shirts with that ass pushed up against him. He'd tell her, "no", that he was too tired. But he always just wanted her to beg a little more.

It was the first night in months, almost one year, that he had to try and sleep without his woman. His heart ached, and his bed was so cold even for the middle of Summer.

..

It was early in the morning when Barry woke up. His body still on that military routine even after all this time. He turned his head to look at the spot beside him and noticed the lack of her beside him. His heart couldn't sink any lower.

Barry scratched the back of his neck, then pulled his body out of bed to make the coffee and check his own phone to see if he had anything there from her. He pressed his hand to his heart over his chest as he walked to the kitchen to try and steady the rapid beating of it.

As he turned on the drip coffee maker and pulled his phone off the counter, his head snapped up when he heard a weak whine come from the living room.

"Early. You wake up too early." Came her groan from the couch, her body in under a pile of blankets.

"Fuck. You are here. Scared the shit out of me, woman." Barry sighed as he pressed his palms flat on the counter and exhaled heavily towards his feet. He pushed himself away from the counter before he quickly walked into the living room, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her tired body off the couch and into his arms.

"I'm sorry." Barry grumbled into her messy hair as he squeezed her tightly.

"I'm sorry, too. I was being stupid and thinking that a post- it note was enough to make you remember something that was important to me. I should have actually confirmed it with you out loud, instead of assuming you'd remember." She sighed into his chest as she wrapped her own arms around his waist.

"I should have remembered something important to you." Barry muttered as he rested his chin on the top of her head as he placed his hands on her hips.

"I forgive you, if you forgive me." She smiled up at him as she placed her hands on the side of his face, pressing up on bare toes to get closer to his height.

"Forgave you last night." Barry nodded as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then leaned down to kiss her lips. He released a sigh of relief through his nostrils to have his woman back at home, safe and in his arms. He felt her fingertips curl into the material of his shirt to bring him close and he couldn't help but reach under the hem of her dress.

"Still got your nice clothes on." Barry grumbled against her lips as he reached under her dress, pulling the hem up to her hips so he could finally see what was under it.

"The house was dark when I came home. I didn't want to wake you up when I got home, so I slept on the couch." She whispered as she curled herself into his chest, her head resting in the crease of his shoulder.

"Go have a shower, get changed. I'll start breakfast. Got nothing to do today, so can be just us." Barry mumbled as he released his hold on her dress to press his palms flat on the small of her back.

"Okay. That sounds nice." She nodded as she pulled her face from his neck to look at his face, her own hands resting on his hips.

"A'ight. Be out here waiting. You don't have to change your shoes, though. If you don't want." Barry smirked as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before he unwrapped her from his arms then gave her backside a pat to nudge her towards the bathroom.

"Nope! You missed your chance last night, Big Guy!"

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting @sodasback @pogueslandia @vintageobx @rottenstyx @babeyglo @beauvibaby @soph0864 @plutooryectors @rafecameronspolo @whcclxr

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

[wizkiddx]

supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

[pascalpanic]

request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

-

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