#ah. the unexpected consequences of time travel

[discordiansamba]

"okumura-san, might I speak to you about rin?"

before he can go down a memory spiral of all his own terrible preschool memories, rin's teacher just laughs awkwardly at him and tells him that while they encourage creativity here, she's noticed a trend in all of rin's drawings (terrible as they are) of him. he always seems to draw you with horns and a tail.

oh.

huh. that was not an issue he was expecting.

his tail twitches in its hiding place in his shirt- and he guesses those decorative rings mephisto gave him to hide his horns from people without a mashou must really work. at this point, they're too long to be hidden by either his bangs or a hat. right. of course. he didn't hide his demonic features from the twins- it was kind of impossible.

"oh uh," noctis laughs, "-it's just... an inside joke we have? don't worry about it."

the teacher frowns, but she seems to accept it. noctis heaves a sigh of relief- but also, man, it's so weird to be on this side of things. he'd ended up enrolling both rin and yukio in a different preschool from the one his father had enrolled them in- and maybe that was making a difference, because he hadn't had many bad reports about rin's behavior yet.

yet. he knew himself. it was only a matter of time.

(he's right. he always is- but he's also ready for it. rin's tiny fists can't do that much damage to him, and he quickly heals off what damage he does do. in the end, he ends up telling him the same thing that his father had- that if he keeps acting this way, he'll only drive people away from him.

looking back, it was one of the things the old man did right.

but what really catches him off guard is that rin's reason for losing his temper is different this time. it doesn't bother him that people call him a demon- why would it? his dad's half-demon, and he's really cool! no, what set rin off was some kid repeating gossip about him that they'd heard from his parents.

...in a weird way, he's touched.)

[rosethornewrites]

NR, E, & M reading since 8/25

Finished

Not Rated:

Consequences, by Remma3760 (32 chapters)

Madam Yu uses Zidian on child Wei Ying. There are consequences.

that is a door, by ShanaStoryteller

It's a terrible plan. Wen Qing doesn't have to agree to it.

She does anyway.

Explicit:

Thief's kiss, by danegen

"This time, I’ll run, and you can chase me.”

Lan Zhan’s eyelashes flutter in delicate, adorable confusion. “When I catch you . . .”

“If you catch me.” Wei Wuxian wags a finger at him. “If you catch me, you can do whatever you want.”

That makes . . . something happen on Lan Zhan’s face. Something that makes Wei Wuxian shiver.

Wei Wuxian accidentally tells Lan Wangji about their strange game of chase that night at the inn. His solution to this predicament? Obviously, they need to play again!

Copying Scriptures, by chiyukimei (6 chapters)

Wei Wuxian is never taken in by anyone, but he carves himself a place in a world that coexists with the cultivation sects. Everyone has a lot to say about Counselor Wei's past, yet he is the only one who knows what he has been through.

-

Written for Wei Wuxian's birthday event, for the genius WWX prompt!

Wei Wuxian November Mayhem

desiderium, by 1littlerabbit1

desiderium

An ardent desire or longing.

Especially: a feeling of loss or grief for something lost.

Not that anything has been lost between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji... right? It's just that he can't help but be a little jealous that Mo Xuanyu could get a reaction when he'd never been able to. That's all.

A Matter of Devotion, by mrcformoso (3rd in a series)

Lan Zhan vowed, the moment the time travel array reunited him with Wei Ying, that no harm will come to his zhiji. That his zhiji will be afforded every opportunity to succeed, will be given safety and security, will always live within Lan Zhan’s line of sight. He was prepared to kill and manipulate the people around him. He was prepared to go against propriety to tie Wei Ying to himself. He was prepared to do whatever it takes to rebuild the world to one that Wei Ying deserves.

At the end of it all, he had succeeded.

But Wei Ying was different. He was everything Lan Zhan raised him to be, everything that Lan Zhan wanted, and he couldn’t help but wonder…if Wei Ying remembered his past life, would he hate Lan Zhan? Would he hate what he had become?

Mature:

two phrases you'll say, by hauntedotamatone (4 chapters)

“Don’t pull that out!” Wen Qing yells, and she is right to do so. Wei Wuxian already has one hand on the shaft sticking out of his abdomen. His eyes are glazed over and his mouth is slack with shock, but he obeys anyway, lifting both of his hands and letting them drop to his sides. All he does is blink a few times.

“Ah…, I’ve been stuck before. It’s not even that deep.”

“Wei Wuxian!”

He takes one step and half of another before his legs simply stop working and fold beneath him.

An unexpected attack on the fringes of the Burial Mounds reminds Wen Qing how thin the thread holding their lives together truly is and just how easily it could be snipped.

Pushed to the very fringes of the world she once knew and made to rely on someone else, her healer's hands no longer feel so clean.

Something is wrong with A-Zhan!, by HeloSoph (🔒, 6 chapters)

Something is very wrong with Lan Xichen's younger brother.

First, he didn't wake up at his usual time.

Then, when he did wake up, he called him xiongzhang.

And as if that wasn't enough, he hugged him!

A-Zhan, the boy who hates physical contact since their mother's passing, hugged his brother on his own accord!

And as if the day couldn't get weirder-

“A-Zhan.”

“Yes, shufu.”

“What did shufu say before he let you and your dada go?”

“To get something we like.”

“And what did A-Zhan do?”

“A-Zhan likes Wei Ying.”

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched again.

OR: Lan Wangji time travels and decides to change everything.

Looked so alive, turns out i'm not real, by KatAnni (9 chapters)

"Nothing leaves the Burial Mounds alive."

Lan Wangji goes on a side mission night hunt with Wei Wuxian during the Sunshot Campaign, and finds out just how true that statement is. Inquiry rings through the room, and Wei Wuxian answers.

This of course, has consequences.

Unfinished

Not Rated:

If You Forget Me, by DivideTheSorrow

Wei Wuxian creates an array that allows him to travel back in time. He returns to his student days at the Cloud Recesses not only to fix the past, but to prevent a great catastrophe that takes place in his future.

But what could have happened to cause Wei Wuxian to lose his smile? What great betrayal occurred that he is reluctant to speak of?

Why does the future Wei Wuxian hate the Second Jade of Lan?

well-met by warlight, by wukuiyuxin

I met him in moonlight; first-met by starlight

He fled me and fought me; and chasing I fell.

I met him, I matched him; astonished I watched him

Unarmed, unhanded; and bested so well.

wangxian, but make it GERMANIC BATTLE POETRY (with a contemporary twist)

Explicit:

The Threads of Fate, by WaitForTheSnitch

“What would you do if you could have him back?” Nie Huaisang asked him, a bit too seriously as he leaned forward.

“There is no way for a dead cultivator to return,” Jiang Cheng scoffed, not even willing to entertain the thought.

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Nie Huaisang shrugged, “Even if he came back, that wouldn’t do much to help, would it? Your sister is still gone. His reputation still damaged.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” Jiang Wanyin growled, “What did you come here for, Nie Huaisang?”

“I asked you what you would do for your brother back,” Nie Huaisang started, “I would do anything to have mine back, Jiang Wanyin. And I’m here to offer you that same choice. Because our brothers’ deaths never should have happened. They happened because of schemes and plots. They happened because of lies and deception. Your brother was made to be a villain and was led to his death because he was too powerful. Mine was murdered because he stood in the way of Jin Guangshan.”

There's nothing Jiang Cheng wouldn't do to have his siblings back. And when Nie Huaisang comes to him with a proposal to save them by changing everything, he doesn't even hesitate to agree.

Only with Time, by adrian_kres (🔒)

Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were arranged to be married as is tradition. Throughout their thirteen-year-long "courtship," things were not always as they seemed. Now, newly married, old secrets have ripped open wounds they thought were closed, and they must work together to rebuild a trust they never had and a love they always did but couldn't see.

Told from alternating points of view between LWJ and WWX with frequent flashbacks to memories of their "courtship".

The "Patriarch" Was Supposed to be Ironic (or, Wei Wuxian, Chief Cultivator), by groignequi

Wei Wuxian makes a wish he didn't intend; Lan Wangji creates a path forward.

___

The form flickers, letting curls of smoke form something like a smile, and responds, “What is it you want, patriarch?”

And Wei Wuxian, incautious at the wrong (the right) moment, says “A way to fix all of it.”

He hears the reply: “As you wish.”

He knows he’s made a mistake the second the form disperses, moving too fast and in too many directions to be called back and subdued.

___

Only a few hours later, in Koi Tower, a visiting handmaid finds her madam crying over rumors about her daughter’s marriage.

Mature:

Army Dreamers, by Forever_Marie

Lan Wangji finds Wei Wuxian in the field with strangle marks and other horrible injuries after Lotus Pier falls.

He takes him back to Gusu.

(一日三秋) One day (seems like) three autumns, by SpicyRamen_10969

13 Years ago, Wei Ying disappeared.

13 years later, two teenage boys find a man collapsed and bleeding on the side of the road.

This is the story of how Wei Ying finds himself going from homeless to living with his childhood best friend, Lan Wangji, and finally getting the help and love he needs and deserves.

(Un)Hidden truth, by Sarah_R

After watching his husband; his son; nephew; brother and little radishes dying in front of him one by one because of a source of resentful energy; Wei WuXian dies too as he destroys it.

But instead of darkness; he finds himself back in the past when he had just gotten kicked out of the cloud recess and everything looks so peaceful he can’t stand it. No…no no no he really can’t go through this hell again. Not again. Not after everything was supposed to be over.

Not knowing that Lan WangJi has been thrown back in time as well; he tries; and fails at taking his own life by slitting his throat open in the middle of lotus pier and so; he decides to show everyone the future.

If he’s going to live this hell again; he’s going to change it and if these people are suddenly so determined to keep him alive; then he’s not going to let them die either.

It doesn’t matter if they end up hating him just as much as he hates himself.

(Or; another time travel fix-it which happens to be a watching the show fic as well! With our favorite baby boy and his husband; all their ducklings and their very much alive family and friends from the past.)

travelers through the empty gate, by stiltonbasket

Ten years after eliminating the Jiang and Nie clans, Emperor Wen Ruohan is dethroned by a young demonic cultivator from the outlands of Yiling, who surpasses him in both talent and cruelty. Where Wen Ruohan burned his enemies, Emperor Yiling raises his from the dead, and sends them through the imperial city to hunt down every last remnant of the Wen clan that tries to evade his clutches.

The last thing Lan Wangji wants to do with the Yiling huangdi is marry him.

Unfortunately, his family's fall from grace leaves him with no other choice.

[foundtherightwords]

Come, You Spirits

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC (Thu from "All Our Yesterdays")

Summary: Stuck in the past (again) and bored during the Ghost Festival, Ralph and Thu decide to check out the most haunted building in Hanoi, with unexpected consequences.

Warnings: none, just a brief mention of a murder and some general spooky stuff.

Word count: 4.6k

A/N: This is both my submission for the JQ Spookathon (yes, I've decided to participate after all! Thank you to @palomahasenteredthechat for hosting and all the mods!) and a soft continuation of my Ralph fic, "All Our Yesterdays" (if you haven't read it, that's OK. I tried to make this a standalone.) I've never written horror before, so here's something on the silly side instead. Plus, out of all of Joe's characters (other than Eddie), I feel that Ralph is most suited to a spooky story, and when Ralph is concerned, everything takes a silly turn for me.

As with "All Our Yesterdays", this is based on an actual urban legend of Hanoi and the location is real (see the photo at the end). The title is a quote from "Macbeth" too.

"You want to do what?" Thu asked, thinking she'd misheard Ralph over the flapping of the bamboo fan she was using to dry her hair. There was a power cut, and she was already sweating despite having just showered.

"Check out that haunted building you told me about," Ralph repeated.

Right, so she hadn't misheard him then. "OK... why?"

Ralph shrugged. "It's something to do," he said. "We've eaten at every possible street vendor in the Old Quarter, we've seen every sight there is to see—I know you take pride in Hanoi being traditional, but when it hasn't changed much since sixty years ago, there's not much left to do."

"That still doesn't explain why you want to see a haunted house."

"Isn't it the Ghost Festival today? Shouldn't we do something to celebrate?"

"Our Ghost Festival is not Halloween!"

"You said it was the day all the souls are released from the Underworld to visit Earth. That sounds like Halloween to me."

"Yeah, but we're supposed to be avoiding spirits, not searching for them!"

"Ah, that's no fun," Ralph sighed. He picked up a paper with a listless hand and threw it down again.

"And anyway, we did go to the mausoleum to see Uncle Ho's mummified body," Thu pointed out. "That wasn't macabre enough for you?" The trip to Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum, a rite of passage for every school kid in Hanoi, had been less of a success than Thu had expected. Ralph had treated it less like a curious relic of Vietnam's past and more like a carnival sideshow. 

"No," now he said. "It was just... weird. It's not even real!"

"Oh, like you'd know!"

"You seriously believe that they can preserve a body that well?"

"Why not? The Soviets did it with Lenin."

"Have you seen that one?"

"... No."

"Well, I bet that's not real either."

Thu could tell they were in for another pointless bickering session, which had been happening with increasing frequency lately. Time traveling tends to do that to you, especially when it is as unpredictable as time traveling with Homeless Pete. No matter how in love you are with one another, it can be stressful when you keep ending up in different times throughout history, without warning. And this particular period hit a little close to home—in 1991 Hanoi, with her birth just six years away, Thu ran the risk of running into her parents and experiencing her own version of Back to the Future. She and Ralph had managed to find a place to stay on the other side of town, away from her parents' university, but the strain was getting to her.

Thu knew she should be thankful they had landed in peacetime—if it had been close to either of the wars, the suspicion on Ralph would make it impossible for them to stay. And they had managed to avoid the worst of the 1980s economic crisis as well—she still remembered too clearly her parents' half-humorous, half-painful stories about standing in line for hours to get their meager rations, the mortal fear of losing one's ration book, the stress of hoarding any product you could get your hands on. At least all of that was behind them now. But on a night like this, it was hard to feel grateful. The August air was muggy, the power was out for the third time that week, and the smoke from the burning of joss paper for the Ghost Festival only made the heat more unbearable. No wonder Ralph was feeling restless.

Still, she wished she hadn't told Ralph about that haunted building. They lived just down the road and had come across it while trudging around searching for Homeless Pete, who had disappeared yet again. Built in the Eastern Bloc style, all gray concrete and sharp corners, it squatted on an intersection like some scowling monstrosity, already exuding an air of inhospitality and menace despite being newly constructed.

"That's going to be the most famous haunted building in Hanoi," Thu said without thinking, pointing at it.

"Going to? What happens?" Ralph asked curiously.

Thu told him about how the building was meant to be the new Bulgarian Embassy, but was never put to use for some reason and was left empty over the next thirty years. "And in Vietnam, whenever a house is abandoned, it is said to be haunted," she said. "They say it was built on top of a cemetery or a hospital morgue, and people often hear strange noises or crying inside. The usual urban legend stuff. And then there was the murder—"

"What murder?" Ralph's eyes opened wide with fascination.

"Some woman stabbed her lover in his car right outside the back gate. In the early 2000s, I think. They say his ghost still lingers around."

"Wizard!"

Thu didn't share Ralph's enthusiasm. She didn't really believe in ghosts, but like most Vietnamese people, she had a healthy respect for the supernatural and avoided it when she could. Ralph had no such hang-ups, apparently. And now he wanted to check out the place! On Ghost Festival of all night!

"It's not really haunted, you know," she said, hoping to dissuade him. "Those stories are just made up by junkies and criminals, so they have a place to hang out."

"But you said those rumors only started after the building was abandoned," Ralph pointed out, and Thu silently cursed his memory. "So why was it abandoned in the first place?"

"It's probably just due to some bureaucratic crap."

"Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Let me get this straight," she said, rubbing her eyes. "We're stuck thirty years in the past with no IDs, and you want to sneak into an embassy to see if it's haunted, all because you're bored?"

"Yes," Ralph said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"No. We are not doing that."

"Please?" He was practically pouting and batting his eyelashes at her, like freaking Betty Boop.

"Stop making that face. You know I can't resist that face."

"It's history!"

Thu sighed. Their apartment was cramped, and the fried fish that the family next door was having for dinner did not smell so great. Perhaps some fresh air would do them good. This was a time when you could still get fresh air simply by walking outside, without having to worry about pollution or traffic, so she might as well take advantage of it.

"Sometimes I do worry about your sense of self-preservation, you know," she said, getting up to find her shoes.

"Come on, that's what you love about me." Ralph grinned and gave her a kiss as she passed him.

***

They walked. Usually, during a power cut like this, they would meet plenty of people and families with kids all along the street, trying to cool down in the night air. That night, however, the street was deserted. The only person they saw was a scrawny student trying to read a book under a street lamp. Clearly, the night of the Ghost Festival was no time to be outside. And even if anyone had ventured out, the stifling, humid air would offer little relief. They really needed some rain soon.

"I'm afraid this isn't the vibe you're looking for," Thu said. "It's too hot to be spooky."

"That helps though." Ralph, always determined to make the best of every situation, pointed at the fat full moon shining languidly over the darkened street.    

Just a few minutes later, they reached the embassy building. The place was surrounded by a tall iron fence, sharp points piercing the moonlit sky. The wan light of the street lamps gave the concrete blocks a blotchy, moldy look, and when combined with the scraggly bushes around its courtyard and the leftover building material, the building looked old, ruined, abandoned even before it was inhabited. A giant banyan tree by the main entrance spread its twisted branches over the flat rooftop, its roots hanging down like a curtain, dark leaves rustling menacingly although there wasn't a breath of wind.

The sight of that tree gave Thu pause.

"What's wrong?" Ralph asked.

"They should have done something about that tree," she said slowly.

"Why?"

"A banyan tree, especially one this ancient, is usually home to spirits and ghosts," Thu explained, "but cutting it down will anger the spirits, so people often set up some sort of a shrine or an altar on the tree for them. There's no shrine here. Not even some rice and salt for the lonely spirits." She dug in her bag and found a packet of puffed rice, one of many she'd bought earlier that day as offerings for the Ghost Festival, and scattered the grains over the tree root. To do it right, there should be some incense as well, but she was sure the spirits would find the rice just fine.

Ralph gave her a sidelong glance. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"I don't."

"Then are you trying to frighten me?"

A corner of Thu's mouth lifted up. "Is it working?"

"Not a chance." Ralph walked around the back. "Come on."

The back was more of the same, sinister walkways leading deeper into the building, eerie shadows that seemed to appear just out of the corner of one's eyes, furniture piled up waiting to be moved in, creating all sorts of odd shapes. An empty swimming pool gleamed pale under the moonlight.

"OK, we've checked it out," Thu said. "There is no ghost or spirit to be found here. Are you happy now?"

There was no answer. She looked around, but Ralph was no longer by her side. He was at the back gate, unwinding the chain holding the gate shut. There was no lock. Shit.

"Ralph, stop! Come back here!" she called, trying to keep her voice low, but it was too late. He had slipped through the gate and disappeared into the murky depth of the building.

Shit, shit, shit. Ralph had always been game for anything, and he was right to say it was what she loved most about him—his endless passion, his ever-present optimism. But she was sure that, having spent time in an Indochinese prison, he would be more careful about putting himself at risk of getting arrested again.

Well, there was nothing to it. She slipped through the gate after him. If the lack of a lock was anything to judge by, the place was not very well guarded, being newly built and not yet inhabited. They may be lucky and not get discovered.

She caught up with Ralph, who was strolling down the covered walkway that connected the two wings of the building, looking for all the world like he was taking his constitutional along the Thames, despite his modern-day clothes. Apparently, one can take the boy out of London but cannot take London out of the boy.

"Get out of here before you get us into trouble!" she hissed.

"Relax," Ralph said. "There's nobody here."

"And there's no ghost either," Thu said, with more conviction than she actually felt.

It wasn't simply the fear of getting arrested that made Thu jumpy. She hated to admit it, but being in this building, knowing its history—or rather, future—made her hair stand on end. She didn't believe in ghosts, she told herself. But something about those cold, gray concrete walls, those dark, tunnel-like corridors, and the sheer emptiness of it felt like there was a razor pressed to the back of her neck, making her want to stand with her back against a solid wall. She fought the urge to take Ralph's hand. 

"So you have time-traveled, yet you don't believe in ghosts?" Ralph said.

"That's different," Thu muttered.

"How?"

They were now inside the main hall. The building must have its own generator—there was a naked light bulb on the ceiling, shedding its yellow light over a reception desk of cheap plywood and a floor that still hadn't been completely cleared of sand and mortar. They climbed the staircase leading to the first floor, where another bare bulb swung from the ceiling, bringing more shadows than light.

"Time travel is—is—science," Thu said lamely.

"Is that so? How does it work then?"

"It works by—by—I don't know, some wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff!"

Ralph looked blank. "What?"

Thu bit back a teasing smile. "You're probably the only Brit alive that doesn't know Doctor Who. If—when we get back to the present, we really need to sit down and watch it."

"To be fair, I was born ninety years ago—"

A heavy, drawn-out sigh echoed down the corridor, cutting him off. It was ringing clear, as though the person was standing right by them.

Ralph gripped Thu's wrist. "Did you hear that?"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" She shook Ralph's hand free and strode forward with long, decisive steps. "It's probably just the wind or something—"

She rounded a corner, and her heart stopped.

A figure wavered in the gloom at the end of the corridor.

Then the figure moved into the light, and Thu realized it was much, much worse than a ghost.

It was a middle-aged man, dressed like a security guard, wearing the green pith helmet of the Vietnamese army, with a baton in his hand and a startled expression on his face.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed in Vietnamese. "Who the hell are you?"

Thu didn't know where she found the clarity of mind to stick out an arm and block Ralph, who was still hidden from view behind the corner. But block him she did, and she could hear him duck into an empty room, much to her relief.

"This is private property! It belongs to the government of Bulgaria!" the guard shouted, limping toward her. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!"

"I'm so sorry, sir," Thu said, running up to the guard to prevent him from going further down the corridor and discovering Ralph. She decided the best course was to tell the truth—or a version of the truth anyway. "The gate was open, and I—my friends and I heard that the place is haunted, and they dared me to go inside..."

"Haunted?" The guard frowned. He had the yellow teeth and yellow fingertips of a chain smoker, and, as he got close enough to her, the breath to match as well. "I've worked here since they started constructing, never heard of no haunting."

"It's just what people say—isn't this place built on an old temple? Or was it a cemetery—"

The guard narrowed his eyes at her. "Aren't you a bit old to get up to such shenanigans?" he asked.

Thu was ready to get offended, but then she remembered that thirty years in the past, someone in her mid-twenties could very well be married and having kids already—her own parents were. "You're absolutely right, sir," she said. "I'm so sorry. I'm leaving now."

She turned to leave, but the guard put his baton up. "Hold on," he said. "Let me see your ID."

Thu's heart dropped. "I—I don't have it with me."

"Where do you live?"

"Just... down the street."

"Right, I'll go with you to get your ID then."

"No!" she exclaimed. Realizing she would not be helping her case by panicking, she tried to soften her voice. "Please. You'll get me in trouble with my parents. Please, sir. I haven't done anything. I just walked around—"

Her plea fell on deaf ears. The guard grabbed Thu's arm with vice-like fingers. "So you just admitted to trespassing. Come with me."

"Hey, you can't do this!" She tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong, despite his limp. "Do you even have the authority to detain me?"

"Ooh, like to use fancy words, don't we?" The guard's craggy face took on a harsh, unyielding look. "You're right. This is a police matter. I'm only detaining you until I can fetch them." Ignoring her protests, he dragged her down the corridor and threw her into a room at the very end. "And for your information, young lady, my authority is absolute here!" he said, before snapping shut the padlock at the door with a cruel click.

"Shit!" Thu said out loud. How could she have been so stupid? She should have dragged Ralph bodily out of here—no, she shouldn't have let him through the gate—no, she should never have agreed to come here in the first place!

When she first time-traveled, she had lived for six months in 1929 without any ID whatsoever, but things in 1991 were very different, and with the police getting involved, how was she going to explain herself? She could only pray that Ralph was smart enough to get out while the guard was preoccupied. She may be able to come up with some crazy story to the police to explain her lack of ID, but explaining the presence of a young Englishman who was actually born in 1904 was too much for her. She could see the headlines—"Mad Woman Claims to Come from the Future". "Mad Foreigner Claims to Come from the Past". Or worse, there would be no headlines at all. They would just get thrown into jail or a mental hospital and forgotten.

Thu looked over her jail cell, trying to figure out what to do. She was in a bathroom, lit by a bare light bulb as the rest of the building. The door was of sturdy wood, and the only window was a tiny square high up on the wall. Even if somehow she managed to wriggle through it, it was still a two-floor drop to the ground. No wind came through that window, and the room was boiling. Sticky sweat poured down her back.

A shadow passed by and stopped just outside the room, blocking out the narrow strip of light underneath the door. It was gone in an instant, followed by several more, rather like a group of children crowding each other to peer into a room. Thu pressed her ears to the door but heard nothing, no footsteps or even a rustling of clothes.

"Hello?" she whispered in Vietnamese. Receiving no answer, she switched to English. "Ralph? That you?" Still no answer, but there came that long, heavy sigh again, and the light went out.

The sweat on Thu's back turned to ice. She staggered away from the door, heart hammering, spine crawling, until she hit the wall with her back. The solid wall made her feel slightly better, though the tiles chilled her. She missed Ralph's warm arms.

She sat down on the toilet, trying to gather her wits. Some shadows, a noise, and a power cut were nothing to be so shaken up about. It was just Ralph's overactive imagination and those damned stories getting to her, that was all...

BANG!

She nearly jumped out of her skin, before realizing it was just a window on the ground floor. Probably just the wind. She took a deep breath—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

This time they came right above her, one after another, sounding too fast and uniformed to be caused by the wind. A quick glance out the window told her that the night was as still and muggy as ever.

The guard's voice came from somewhere in the bowels of the building, "Who goes there?" Thu heard a high, clear giggle, but it could be her imagination, or it could simply be from a kid playing in the street outside. This was followed by a long moment of silence, then a scream—more like a yelp, thin and far away, then silence again, ringing in her ears, endless, unbearable.

The silence was broken by running footsteps outside the corridor. Her heart in her throat, Thu cast wildly about for a weapon. She settled for the heavy porcelain cover of the toilet's water tank, though what good it would do against a ghost, she had no idea. But then again, ghosts wouldn't have footsteps, would they?

"Thu?" came Ralph's familiar voice, and the band squeezing her heart loosened, almost making her drop the cover on her foot. She scrambled to the door.

"Ralph! What happened?"

"The guard fell into the pool."

Shit. "What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!"

This was no time for more bickering. "He must have the keys on him," she told Ralph. "Find them and get me out of here!"

"OK. Hang on."

His footsteps receded. After what must be the longest five minutes of her life, he came back, the door was opened, and the next thing she knew, Ralph was pulling her into his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked. "I'm sorry, this was all my fault—"

Thu was so relieved she wasn't even angry with him anymore. After all, she had followed him into the building of her own volition.

"No time for apologies. Let's just get the hell out of here," she said.

Grabbing each other's hand, they ran down the corridor, down the stairs, and toward the back gate. As they passed the empty swimming pool, Thu glimpsed the dark shape of the guard lying in a heap at the bottom.

"Is he dead?" she asked, horrified.

"No. Just knocked out, I think," Ralph said. Seeing Thu slow down, he paused as well. "What are you thinking?"

Thu weighed the bunch of keys in her hand. "I have an idea," she said, motioning for Ralph to climb down into the pool with her.

They put the keys back into the guard's pocket and carried him into the bathroom where he'd locked Thu up. This way, Thu reasoned, when he woke up, the confusion would be enough to throw doubt over his story, and they would be off the hook.

"Are you still angry with me?" Ralph said as they made their way back to the apartment. "I won't do anything like that ever again, I promise."

"You better keep that promise," she grumbled, but when he tentatively reached for her hand, she didn't push him away.

***

For a few days afterward, Thu avoided going past the embassy, just in case the guard still remembered her face. One evening, she and Ralph were going to dinner when they found their path was taking them past the building again. There was a great bustle as workers went in and out, carrying furniture and cleaning up the leftover building material. Seeing a woman struggling with a heavy chair, Thu came over to help.

"Are the Bulgarians finally moving in?" she asked in Vietnamese.

"No," the woman replied shortly. "They're moving out."

It was then that Thu noticed the furniture was being loaded on carts and taken away. Did this have anything to do with their misadventure the other night?

"Why?" she asked the woman. 

"No one wants to work here," the woman said. "The locals say it's haunted."

Startled, Thu looked back at Ralph, whose eyes were open so wide they threatened to pop out of his face. He hadn't learned much Vietnamese, but he had certainly caught the word "haunted" and understood what it meant. Có ma. Inhabited by ghosts.

"What happened?" Thu asked the woman, trying to sound casually interested.

The woman cast a look around, before dropping her voice. "On Ghost Festival, a security guard was working there alone. He said some woman showed up, telling him the place is haunted. He thought she was a trespasser and locked her up to wait for the police. Did everything by the book, right? Only she vanished! And the guard found himself locked up instead! What do you make of that?"

Thankfully, Thu didn't have to answer that, because another worker was calling to the woman irritably, "Hey, move it! Some of us want to get out of here before it gets dark, you know!"

As the woman scurried back to her work, Thu gave Ralph a brief summary of what the woman had told her.

"I guess we were the ones that started that whole haunted rumor," she said ruefully.

"Well, at least now we know why it was abandoned," Ralph replied, cheerful as ever.

Thu shook her head at him, half exasperated, half affectionate. She should really stop letting him draw her into these harebrained adventures, but it was hard to say no to those puppy eyes.

"So tell me," she said, slipping her arm through Ralph's as they continued on their way, "what did you do to that poor security guard, exactly? How did you know where the breaker was?"

"The what?"

"The electricity. You turned it off to scare the guard, didn't you?"

"I thought that was another power cut?"

She slowed her steps, puzzled. "But you did slam the shutters, right?"

"Yes, the one on the ground floor. I thought it might make a good diversion."

"And the ones on the second floor too."

"No, I didn't go on the second floor."

"But I clearly heard three slams, right above me."

"I heard those too. I thought that was you!"

Did he think she was that gullible? "Come on, Ralph. You're messing with me."

"You're messing with me! How could I have gotten from the ground floor to the second floor so quickly?"

"Right, and next you're going to tell me you didn't make the guard fall into the pool either."

"I told you I didn't! He was already there when I found him!"

Thu finally stopped and looked straight at Ralph. "What are you saying?"

"I am telling you the truth," Ralph said slowly. "All I did was slam the shutters to draw the guard away. Then I hid. I didn't see anything. I only heard giggling and panting, and the guard's scream. When I found him, he was unconscious in the pool."

They stared at each other, neither uttering a word, minds running wild with all sorts of possibilities, while a strange, oppressive feeling—not quite fear, but a vague unease—clutched at their hearts. Thu could feel the razor on the nape of her neck again. As one, she and Ralph turned to look at the building. The workers had finished and left, and the building was deserted once more, looming gray and silent in the last rays of the sun.

"Perhaps the ghosts were helping us because you gave them some puffed rice," eventually Ralph said.

"I don't believe in ghosts," Thu snapped.

"Maybe you should," Ralph said. "They believe in you."

Thu looked over her shoulder again. It could be her imagination, or it could be a trick of the dying light, but the banyan tree looked like it was winking at them.

Definitely her imagination. Maybe.

"Don't say things like that," she said, trying to shake off the crawling sensation on her back. "It sounds so creepy!"

"Sorry."

She glared at Ralph. His eyes were full of earnest concern, with no hint of the twinkle he usually had when he was teasing her.

"You're lucky you're cute, you know that?" she said.

Face brightening up, he grinned back at her. "I know."

For all her bravado, Thu's grip on Ralph's hand was tighter than usual as they walked home in the gathering dusk. Then again, perhaps that was what he was aiming for, the cheeky tosser.

[iheartgarrus]

N7 Month Day 4: Metal

(AO3 Link - Yes, yes, I'm late, but hopefully I can get ahead this weekend! We have some bittersweet angst today. Oh, Joker.)

The Normandy was en route to the Citadel, and Ashley was in the medbay fighting for her life.

To say Shepard that had had a taxing day since she woke up in Vancouver that morning would have been a massive understatement.

Numbly relying on muscle memory that hadn't been exercised in six months, she found her way to her cabin and fell back on her bed, eyes closed before she hit the mattress. She was too tired now to stuff her worries into a box, and faces flashed behind her eyelids - Tali, Miranda, her mother... Garrus most of all. The Reapers were here and she didn't know where any of her people were. They could be dead already for all she knew.

The thought burned in her throat. Anderson seemed to think their fates all hinged on her, but she'd never felt so powerless.

Well. Lying here freaking out wasn't going to help, and she could start by at least trying to raise whoever she could with galactic communications in their current state. She gathered herself with a deep, shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Where she expected to be greeted by a view of far-off stars and the streaking blues of FTL travel, she saw nothing but metal.

Huh. That was new.

Curious, she stood up and scanned her cabin until she found a control switch that hadn't been there six months ago. It was labeled "Shutter", and as she expected, pressing it made the metal panel over the skylight slide open with a soft whir. "Alliance got me a present, I guess," she muttered.

"Shepard, if I may," EDI piped up.

Shepard jumped a little, no longer used to the constant presence of an AI in her living space. "Ah, yeah," she said. "What's up, EDI?"

"I believe you should know that the new shutter over the Loft's skylight was not proposed by an Alliance engineer."

Shepard wrinkled her brow. "Okay... So was it your idea?"

"No. It was Jeff's," EDI replied. "After I convinced the retrofitting team that his presence was necessary for my functionality, he assisted with a full assessment of the Normandy, and he insisted that a shutter for the skylight be prioritized. He mentioned - pardon the language - 'those Cerberus dipshits' and questioned their decision to include such a feature in the quarters of someone who had been spaced."

Shepard's jaw had fallen open partway through EDI's explanation, and at that last bit, she blinked a couple of times. "...Oh," she said quietly. "That's... unexpected."

EDI took an uncharacteristic pause. "Shepard, I believe that Jeff, more than anyone else on the Normandy's crew, thinks a great deal about the events of the Collectors' attack on the SR-1 and the consequences for you in particular."

Shepard sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, squeezing her eyes shut. "Yeah. I bet he does. Thank you for telling me, EDI."

"You're welcome, Shepard."

[mikalara-dracula]

🛌🏻 Sharing a bed with Shu

Warning: 18+ content below; don't read if you're a minor or aren't comfortable with slight NSFW.

Ah, the sleeping fuck prince.

What better way to spend time with his s/o than sharing a bed with them.

Honestly, sharing a bed with him gives him a lot of access to you, so he’s definitely into the idea of you lying beside him, but of course, he’d never admit that.

He’ll tell you it’s fine and that you can just as long as you’re not going to do anything to ruin his sleep or his music.

However, this asshole is definitely going to tease you about it tho and he’ll even go a little further than the unexpected.

“If you're gonna sleep next to me, at least wear something inviting.” He'd smirk, hinting towards a certain favorite set of lingerie you owned, making blush rise to your cheeks.

Well, as we know, sleeping is literally his hobby and the way he spends most of his days, so as his s/o, you’ll definitely be sleeping with by him if the situation calls for it, or if he’s just needy and wants you beside him . . . not that he’d admit that tho.

I’ll definitely say that he’s not open to sharing a bed with just anyone, so as his s/o you have quite the privilege.

Shu may appear to be lazy and that he’ll just ‘sleep’ next to you when sharing a bed, but dear god is that a myth.

This narcolept is quite the character when sharing a bed with you and it honestly depends on what kind of mood he’s in.

If it’s a full moon, fuck . . . .

Anyways tho, if he just wants to sleep and not engage in anything, he’ll pull you into him and have his arm wrapped around your waist.

If you’re facing him, he likes the idea of your face being buried into his chest, mostly because he likes to feel your warmth against him.

Might indulge in a bit of conversation but it’s pretty minimal, and with this, he may take the opportunity to place a kiss on your forehead.

His eyes are closed most of the time. It's not very often that he opens them when laying down next to you and bear in mind that when he does open them, you have his full attention, especially when discussing something serious.

He secretly likes it if you delicately stroke his hair, or softly run your fingers through it.

He'll tell you you're being bothersome, but deep down he really enjoys it.

Does like the feeling of falling asleep with you clinging onto him since it gives him the reassurance that you’re there.

He also likes to trace shapes into your back in a soothing and relaxing way to make you fall asleep smoothly.

Sometimes, Shu will let you sleep on top of him, however, don’t think it’ll be very innocent.

When you’re in this position, he likes to trace his hand down your spine and have it travel back up soothingly or will lay his hand on your ass and clutch it.

With you on top, he might share a few intimate kisses with you, and would be quick to ask if you’re inviting him into something more intimate or better yet to your room to do something scandalous, especially if you initiated the kisses.

If he’s on top, however, it feeds his yearnful need of having you beneath him and all to himself. Plus, he likes the idea of you not being able to escape due to him being heavy.

He definitely won’t refuse to sink his fangs into your neck, collarbone, or chest area if he’s feeling thirsty.

“Hm, admit it, you like me on top of you, don’t you?” He’d smirk.

If you’re not facing him tho, things are a little different.

Mostly because this is where he seeks an opportunity to do something perverted since you can’t see the mischievous grin forming on his face.

While you’re trying to fall asleep, he’ll attempt to slip his hand into your pants to touch your crotch area.

Will definitely be into the idea of having you jerk him off or getting the chance to finger you if he’s in the mood.

For no apparent reason, he casually likes to lay his hand on your ass and keep it there. It’s like as if it’s just ‘comfortable’ to him to just have it rest there.

Will share his earbuds with you--however, if he's listening to one of those 'special tracks' where a woman is screaming in ecstasy, you won't hesitate to slap his arm and pull your earbud out.

“That's disgusting!”

“Heh, you say that yet you sound the same when we-,”

“Shut up!”

Now, if you're actually trying to sleep and he isn't but is in a certain mood, oh god prepare yourself.

This mf will talk about your underwear, and will especially tease you about it if it’s not skimpy or if it isn’t matching your bra.

If he sees that the waistband of your underwear is showing, he’s definitely taking advantage. So, he’ll pull the waistband of your underwear and let go of it abruptly so it snaps against your skin.

​​Won’t hesitate to clutch your ass since he finds it to be right in front of him, and it’s mostly because he likes to see your reaction.

“Shu, quit it! I’m trying to sleep.”

“Heh, it was your idea to sleep here, now you’re paying the consequences.”

Might nibble on your neck and have his fangs brush the surface of your skin just to keep you on the edge and see goosebumps rise. He literally thrives on the fact that he has this effect on you.

“Mm, am I that satisfying to you?”

He’s honestly not opposed to the idea of sex.

If he’s in a certain mood, he'll be on the edge of his seat waiting for you to say something or hint at it so it could happen.

But if it doesn’t, he’ll go about things a different way in hopes that it leads to that.

So with this, he’ll be bold and ask you if your intention of coming here was to have sex with him.

“Is you sleeping here an excuse to get something more? Just admit it, you came here because you want me.”

Since he sleeps all day, he has plenty of time to think about such a topic and come up with new things to try on you. It honestly doesn’t take him much to get him going. After all, he’s more perverted than Laito as we all know.

Likes to rest his hand on your thigh, having it travel up and down slowly in the hope of having your skin tickle or just to annoy the fuck out of you.

Speaking of tickling, he’s a total asshole when it comes to this.

For example, while you’re trying to sleep, he’ll start by poking your side every few minutes or so, making you jolt every single time.

You’d of course scold him about it, but it soon started to become a lot more consistent, leading it to a full-out tickle war.

Secretly, he loves the way the chime of your laughter echoes in his ears as you beg him to stop. It’s literal music to his ears.

“How am I ever going to go to sleep with you bothering me every five minutes?”

“Did I ever say I would let you?” He’d smirk, leaving you to blush.

You’re the little spoon most of the time, but he doesn’t mind switching roles.

In fact, he kind of likes that you show a bit of dominance, but definitely has a kink for being the real person in charge even though he isn't too insistent on it.

[80s4life]

The Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing

Word Count: 4,438

Status: Not Requested

Fandom: Back To The Future 1985

Relationship: Biff Tannen x Female Reader

Summary: As time is altered for a total of 2 weeks (I extended it slightly), you and Marty struggle to get his parents under control, having problem after the next. But, when an unexpected solution occurs, you find yourself willingly okay with it, soon finding the exact reason as to why.

Warnings: language, fluff, Biff being a dick, slight angst, cute Biff

Masterlist Back To The Future Masterlist

Prompts: (from this list @youneedsomeprompts​)

Y/C/S= Your Choice of Sport/ Your Chosen Sport (you don’t have to honestly play one, just choose one you like or one that comes to mind)

{gif and prompts are not mine, gif credits go to @backtothefuturemovies and credits were given above for prompts!}

No one ever said time travel was fun. No one ever said the job was easy. And no one sure as hell told you the consequences that come with it. Well, at least not before you, and your best friend, Marty McFly, had gone dead-on through a barn, sacred a neighboring family of ‘alien invasion,’ run into younger McFly parents, and altered time just enough to fuck you over for a few days.

I mean, who would’ve guessed right? Your mom just so happens to be romantically interested in you, their child. Well, that was at least in Marty’s case. For you, you had just managed to run into the biggest dickhead of the century, Biff Tannen. Or so you thought?

Making your way out of bed, you automatically go to where Marty was sleeping in the garage, waking him along with Doc up. The go-to plan for the day was to go undercover as usual students in the 50′s, secretly following Marty’s parents around, finding out where they lie in this part of time, and try to find ways into manipulating them together once more in time for Marty and you to get back home. Easy enough, right?

Groaning, Marty goes to slap your hands away weakly, mumbling something along the lines of ‘Just a few more minutes.’ You giggle slapping his hands back in an attempt to wake him up cheerily. Mornings weren’t really your forte either, so any upbeat wake-up is better than a pissy, tired, horrible morning. 

Doc, on the other hand, was happy to return the affection, getting out of bed to give a quick hug and kiss to the forehead. Then he makes his way over to the bed, going to tickle Marty’s feet as you go to tickle his sides. Finally, in a fit of laughter, Marty gets up and goes straight for the bathroom. You were going to argue him, having to use the bathroom first, but decide to just leave it be, heading for the makeshift kitchen instead.

You smile fondly as Doc and Marty play around a while later, wrestling about, cracking jokes. It was only just a few hours ago that you and Marty had witnessed the untimely death of the currently very lively man in the house. Witnessing the blood loss, the machine gun in action, and the bullets that whizzed pass with only one malicious intent: to kill. But he’s here now; he’s safe and sound, having many years until that date will arrive.

With the freshly cooked smell of eggs, toast, and pancakes, the boys straighten up, Doc clearing his throat in an attempt to organize himself, and Marty leaving his shirt ruffled as he follows the smell of deliciousness. You giggle as both men of different ages act exactly the same, piling their plates high and digging in, giving thanks through mouthfuls.

///LATER///

After breakfast had finished, you and Marty made your way to the school, not wanting to be late, and, quite frankly, not wanting to miss a second in the disaster we’re in, wanting to fix it as soon as possible. Upon entering, the building erupts in laughter, tears, screaming, perfume, cologne, aftershave, and lots and lots of both testosterone and estrogen. Fucking high school, you smile.

Going to “your locker” right besides “Marty’s,” you both place the books and supplies that are unneeded inside it and take only the things you need for the first two classes, somehow having those together. As Marty catches glimpse of his father, George McFly, he winks at you, moving to catch up to him. Rolling your eyes playfully, you turn back towards your locker, just barely missing a group of young men some ways down the hallway, locking eyes with a particularly taller man, towering almost everyone in the halls.

You pay no mind, however, being blindsided by three girls your age. Instantly, you recognize the one right in front as Lorraine, Marty’s mother. Smiling nervously, your cheeks tint only a little, being unprepared to see her so quickly, not yet having a plan made up on how you could help tackle the situation with Marty.

“Hiya! I’ve never seen you before, are you new here? I’m Lorraine Baines, and you are?” she asks cheerfully, her books clasped tightly to her chest.

Taking an obnoxiously long time staring dumbfounded, you finally realize you haven’t spoken, quickly recovering with newfound purpose and confidence, “Ah, yes! I am new here! Sorry, I’m just trying to get used to this place a tiny bit. I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Well that’s quite alright, you can come with us!” she says once more in a cheery tone, taking you by the arm and lacing her arm around yours, locked elbows. You smiled, knowing exactly where Marty’s cheerful and people-person nature had come from. Walking down the halls, she had asked for my schedule, checking classes to see what we had together, “English, History, and Agriculture- Hey! You should try out for cheer leading!” 

Shaking your head lightly, “Nah, I’m more of a Y/C/S myself to be frank.”

“But...We don’t have that sport here? There are no girls sports at all actually...” Lorraine says confused. You go to cover it up, choosing to say it was a sport you play for fun at home, in the backyard. However, a beefy arm separates you momentarily from her, as the owner of the harm moves to pin her to the lockers.

You were going to walk away, figuring it was some sort of make-out session in the works, but upon looking at her before going, you notice that the man was absurdly unwanted. 

“Get your meathooks off me Biff!” she screams at the man, his huge form towering her much smaller one. Not taking the message, the pair continue to squabble, neither of them being successful in winning. The warning bell sounds over the halls and classrooms, alarming kids to get their asses moving, but it seems whoever this dick is, he feels he is greater than the school, and god forbid, knowledge.

“Hey, you do realize your not making a damn bit a difference, right? She’s not interested! And, quite frankly, it seems as if no one does! Now, if you don’t mind, could you please be kind enough to unhand her as some of us treasure a piece of mind and how to take a hint?” you finish, quite ticked off as the last bell warns, cursing under your breath as you already know your in for detention on the first day.

It finally seems that he’d caught a grip, thankfully, letting go of Lorraine’s arm and she quickly scurries out of his proximity, taking your hand to lead you to the class you both needed to be in. As you go to walk in, you are stopped by the teacher, scolding both you and Lorraine. Looking at her regrettably, she smiles defeated. So you decide to do what’s right, take the fall.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t know where to go as I was trying to find where all of my classes were before I ended up lost every time classes switch. I caught up to Lorraine here at some point, and as she was hurrying to this class, she was kind enough to show me where I needed to be,” you finish, sighing guiltily.

“Well, as you’ve taken acknowledgment to your mistake, then you’d be just as happy with detention. After school, on Friday, as the first week is extremely busy. As for you, Miss Baines, thank you for your help. You are off the hook for now,” the older gentleman finishes, nodding to each of you personally before turning around and beginning just one of the classes you’d have today. This is going to be fun!

///LATER///

Finally, after grueling hours of just a few of your classes, lunchtime had came round, giving you a slight break. Catching sight of Lorraine, you smile and wave, going in the direction of Marty, or Calvin Klein, as you’d heard Lorraine go on and on about. You’d known it was him the second she’d said it, the brand not yet known to man yet; or at least in this timeline, it wasn’t.

As time had went on, it was only natural for the peace to be broken, as a newly familiar face was starting to appear more and more, Biff Tannen, as you’d known his name by now. But, instead of heading towards Lorraine, he makes his way over to the table you were residing with George and Marty, sitting himself right beside you. 

At first, you were trying to ignore him, knowing his presence was there, but keeping your eyes trained on either Marty or George, eyes dancing between the two. Biff, being the everlasting child he was, tried to catch you attention, trying stupid ass things after the other: kicking your shins, pulling your ears of hair, flicking your head, and even trying to tug on the 50′s style dress you’d been forced to wear to play your part. 

Only when he goes to tug your hair once more is when you finally snap, turning a furious glare to the hulking figure beside you, shoving his shoulder in a feeble attempt to create distance. He giggles at this, his body not moving an inch at all. “You can’t be serious right now! You don’t know when to quit it, do you?!” you scream, fed up with his shit.

“Well, if you’d give me the human decency of turning your head when I’m trying to talk to you, then I wouldn’t have to pester you, now would I?” he asks in a teasing tone, no doubt taunting you, but all you do is stare him down, getting lost in a staring contest, daring him to say something again. “Alls I wanted to say was that we have detention together. Just thought I’d let you know since you got me in all that trouble this morning.”  

“Why you-!” And with that, he gets up with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, prancing out of view and back to the table he and his gang usually sit. Watching the whole interaction, George smirks at Marty, the pair giving an unspoken mutual agreement to whatever they had both caught on to, bursting into fits of laughter moments later. 

“You have a longer tolerance than I do, I-I-I’ll tell you that much,” George says, his usual slight stutter back in place, Marty laughing once more. As George joins in again, you couldn’t fight it either, giving into the childish antics.

///LATER///

To say your week had gotten any better than the first day was a lie. It hadn’t gotten any better, and your meetings with Biff at lunch had only gotten all the more common and all the more infuriating. He’d made it his duty to agitate you in any ways possible, even resulting in whispering something nagging in your ear when you weren’t paying attention, usually doing something in your locker.

Either way, he was on the countdown to Friday, it being constantly on his mind, mentally counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until the two of you were locked in a room alone.

Unfortunately, that day had seemed to come way faster than you’d like, Friday rolling around quite quickly. School had finished, and you were making your way to the front office, awaiting a tiring 2 hours with only yourself and Biff as company for the time being. You hadn’t known where the room was, and instead of spending time looking for it, you gave up and looked for the office instead, the nice front desk lady leading you where you needed to go.

Upon entering the room, there was Biff in his prime, casually spread across his chair, legs crossed atop his desk nearest the windows. Sighing, you ignore him, deciding to sit on the opposite side of him, the front desk lady giving you a sympathetic smile before she closes the door behind her. You look at the wall, head turned away from him like the plague.

You knew it’d only last so long until he’d speak, the time coming way faster than you pleased. Given it was Friday, you couldn’t even do homework or even study in order to block him out as he started to blabber, running his mouth over stupid shit once more. Inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth slowly, you straighten in your seat, hands clutching the desk so tight, your fists turned white. 

“Biff, Sweetheart, Baby, Doll Face, Hun. Please. PLEASE. Shut up for five god damn seconds. I know you truly have nothing to say, so why do you insist on speaking so much?” you finally say, hands prying off the desk to turn in his direction exasperated. 

“Well, if you’d just talk to me, Shortcake, I wouldn’t have much to say at random,” he answers, copying your actions and posture. With this change in childish demeanor, you give in, laughing at him in an unexpected rush, running your hands through your hair tiredly. 

Although you hadn’t seen it, he’d smiled in satisfaction upon seeing you laugh, the glitter in your eyes much more captivating than it ever was when he looked at Lorraine. He hadn’t barely pestered her since you’d barreled into his life. It was weird, but he welcomed it with open arms. And for the first time, he learned what it was like to have an actual, clammy-handed, closed throat, warm, cheek-tinted, teenage crush. A crush that left his heartbeat loud and fast, breathing ragged and uneven, and his behavior out of character and out of his control. Lorraine was way under whatever level he’d placed you on, holding you up on a pedestal like you were the sun or sky.

Of course, you hadn’t taken notice to his antics, just thinking he was annoying. Just Biff being his notorious self. But, as you finally calm your breathing down, the giggles fading, you decide to give him a chance, knowing that sitting in silence is just going bore you. Smiling warmly, you say, “So what do you want to talk about then?” 

///LATER///

Grabbing your bag, you get out of your seat, giggling at a story Biff had told you. He follows your lead as well, getting his own as he lets out a bark of laughter at a certain part. You guys looked like idiots as you shoved each other down the halls, making your way out of the school as your detention had came to a close. Sighing as the warm sun radiated on your skin with the light, spring breeze, you stretch out any kinks the classroom chairs and desks had left. Biff watched you intently, your small body easily swallowed by his shadow beside you.

The sun was setting and it was getting late, although you weren’t concerned. The boys knew you wouldn’t be home ‘til late due to the detention you had initially despised. Now, you and Biff were side by side, walking peacefully to his car in the school’s parking lot. For once, he was quiet, great company to have. It was something else for sure, but you enjoyed it. As you came up towards Doc’s place, you’d realized that Biff had drove you home like a gentleman, too lost in the conversation to notice earlier on. 

Sheepishly, you itch the back of your neck, realizing your mistake and feeling guilty for making him walk all this way to now have to walk all the way home. “Ah- Sorry...I didn’t realize I’d dragged you all the way out here. Now you have to drive all the way back.”

“It’s no problem, really. I liked it. It’s nice to talk to someone other than the guys every now and then. And to have A female speak to me instead of screaming,” he answers, now being the one who is a bit shy.

“You do know that you bring that on yourself right?” you say teasingly, now leaning your head on your hands, propped up on the passenger side door. “Not every girl would want to kick you in the groin if you showed a little more respect, “ you finish off with a smile.

“Yeah...Yeah I know. I’ll try harder, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask,” you say with a wink, drumming your hands on the door as you take a step back, waving as you start walking down Doc’s driveway.

“Hey!” Biff calls from the car, stopping you in your tracks to turn around, facing him with a smile. “Uhm- Well- The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance is coming up next week...Would you mind being my date?” he asks, stuttering as he feels his cheeks heat up, nervous as hell.

“I’d love to!” you answer, turning back around to walk into the house. Biff does a little fist bump as he puts the car back in gear, excited for what is to come.

///

Marty was a little less than amused with this newfound knowledge once entering the door and going over the events of the day. It was only when Doc had suggested that the date with Biff would keep him away from Lorraine, giving George the freeway to attract her long enough for their True Love’s Kiss. Then, and only then, did Marty give the okay, shaking his head, but liking the fact that it’ll give George some time, being the nerd that you know and love.

///Enchantment Under the Sea Dance///

Checking yourself over in the mirror for the final time, you let out a nervous yet satisfied sigh, feeling like an absolute princess. You never minded dresses too much, although you couldn’t deny the fact that normal pair of shorts, jeans, or even leggings were your first choice. All that mattered was that you liked the dress you were wearing, it fit you; it was your favorite color, length, and strap(less) type to hold everything in.

Walking out, you grab the pair of heels to match, knowing that you couldn’t get away with sneakers in this generation, painfully grimacing at the reminder. Finally standing, you recount when you had gotten the dress just a few days ago, having gone with Lorraine and the her two friends, Babs and Betty. They were very endearing and supportive the whole time, you not having to worry about being “to picky” as they were just the same. You ended up loving the dress given that you’d taken the time without pressure.

As you walked into the main room of the garage, you heard a low whistle of Marty, Doc slapping him on the back of the head for it. Giggling, you curtsy and spin in the dress. Doc, the gentleman he always was, compliments you, “You look amazing, my dear. Let’s hope this boy deserves it, hmm?” 

As an answer, you hug him tightly, knowing that, by the end of the night, he will be nothing but a dead man at home, in a lonely, dark parking lot. Your eyes tear up just at the mere thought of it, clutching him tighter. Marty seems to be on the same wavelength, going to interrupt the moment with great urgency, trying to pass him a piece of paper.

“Marty, if this has anything that involves my future, do not. And I repeat, DO NOT try to hand it to me. Whatever happens, happens young man. That’s how the world works,” he says in a warning tone. You wanted to disagree, but you knew the truth that was laced beneath it, as if it was a punishment. You whimper instead, pulling him in tighter; Marty looking down in defeat, soon switching to anger. In the midst of it, he storms out of the garage, getting in the car to go pick up who you’d hope was Lorraine for the dance.

“Just let him go...” you start, sadness evident, “He’s just not very happy with the outcome of what the future has in store for you. Quite frankly, neither am I.”

“I’m sure whatever the outcome is, that I wanted to go with it, dear. I assure you, I’m fine,” Doc answers in a consoling tone, wiping the tears that had slipped from your eyes. You knew it was just a mask, no one wants death, but you knew he needed to go no matter how much you hated it. So you nod, not having to say much more as a honk sounds from outside.

“That’s Biff...” 

“Have a great time! Make sure the McFlys kiss!” Doc screams, following out of the garage, scolding Biff from behind you.

“Yes sir!” you scream back, saluting him as you take a seat in the passenger.

///

“You look beautiful Y/N,” Biff says after a while, finally working up the courage to speak.

“Thank you Biff. And you look handsome yourself,” you giggle, the car pulling into the lot. 

He shuts the engine, grabbing his keys from the ignition and closing the door, making his way around to you as you let yourself out to straighten yourself out. He takes your hand as he leads you to the entrance of the dance, you sighing in relief as you catch a glimpse of Marty pulling up in a car with Lorraine. Finally, you relax, grasping on Biff a little lighter and with more meaning now as you have the night to yourselves. He smiles down at you as you wrap your arm within his, something Lorraine does with you quite often.

With the party in full blast, you let loose with the music, dancing and joking around with Biff. At some point, however, he says he needs a drink and will be right back. Although, he doesn’t seem to actually come back. You’d thought you’d seen him spiking the punch just as few moments ago.

Just as you were going to in the direction of the hallways to the rest of the school, you notice Match, one of Biff’s friends, storming out of the gym through an exit. Taking your bets, you follow behind him, soon being greeted by a huge commotion of screams, all of them from familiar people. Biff was in a car with Lorraine, her dress pulled and taken off in parts. He was no doubt about to do something stupid, the fact pissing you off, saddening you in some ways as well.

The others that were screaming were also George and Marty, the pair trying to get Biff to stop before he regrets it. He doesn’t listen, unfortunately, until your voice booms over the rest, “Biff!” 

His head snaps instantly in your direction, the situation dawning on him the instant he looks at your face. You hadn’t meant to portray your emotions so clearly, but your face had shown such distraught and hurt. He lied. He had gotten over Lorraine, yet the moment she was alone, he runs right back to her.

With his momentary change of focus, George finally steps in, “You get your filthy hands off of her!” finishing with a blow to the jaw that knocks Biff off balance. 

Marty looks to you sadly, but tries to smile in cheers as George and Lorraine leave together, motioning that he was going to follow them just in case. You nod, looking down now as your play with your fingers. You didn’t know what to do now as the only reason you were really here was for Biff. You weren’t needed for Lorraine and George, you knew Marty had it.

You decide to make your way home then, as there was nothing else you could do. Dances were just drags anyway, nothing worth while. “Your just going to leave? Just like that?” asks a deep voice, his body having gotten back off the pavement and stood by the car he was pinned against.

Without turning, you answer his question with another, “Why not? There’s nothing left here for me is there?”

“And why wouldn’t there be?” Biff asks once more, no doubt ticking you off at his usual teasing tone.

“Well, let’s see. You. You asked me to the dance as your plus one. I came here as your date. We have a good time, we dance, we talk, and then you come up with an ‘Oh I need a drink’ charade, not returning. Then, I come to find my date in the parking lot, about to get his licks in on a woman he was apparently over with! So tell me, what is left here for men here, Biff?” you finish, tears pooling your eyes over the time, although you don’t let the fall, keeping them there.

He looks guilty, you can see it, but you don’t care. Your not in the wrong this time. But, as your blood starts to cool down, you do notice the look in his eyes, the change in his demeanor, and the utter remorse that has overcome him. He has his head down, fists clenched at his sides, body stock still. He doesn’t know what to do, all he knows is that he’d fucked up.

“Or was this your fabulous way of telling me that you love me?” you finally ask, eyes moving to look up at him in a teasing manner.

He hadn’t expected you to speak, head snapping up to meet your gaze in confusion. Being as you’d looked at him with a glint in your eyes, he finally lets everything click together; you’d forgiven him. His face heats up in bashfulness however, as your words resonated within him as well, hand going to itch the back of his neck again.

You giggle, walking up to him now, hands going to his collar. Pulling him down, he gazes at you in amazement, his own hands falling to rest on your waist. Then, you crash your lips to his, pulling him ever closer. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it, soon pulling you closer to himself as well. Lifting you slightly, he sets you on the hood of his car, the height difference a definite stretch for him. But he wouldn’t have it any other way, you were perfect. Just the same as he was perfect for you.

[ajaxwrites]

Genshin Impact Fanfic Rec List

(because this is my most current obsession~~)

The Narwhal of Dihua Marsh by GreyLiliy

Childe hears of a strong Adeptus living at the Wangshu Inn. Despite warnings from Zhongli that fighting Xiao would be a deathly mistake, Childe seeks out the Adeptus living in the Dihua Marsh eager for a proper fight.

However, Childe severely underestimates his opponent, and the consequences of his actions may keep him from returning home to Snezhnaya.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This fic is interesting primarily because it's not necessarily what you would call an easy story to read. The content can surprisingly get quite heavy as the relationship between Childe and Zhongli isn't healthy and it becomes increasingly obvious as the story progresses. You swing between wanting to separate the two and also desperately wishing that they'll work out because there is something there. The story snowballs from what seems like an innocuous, if stupid and rash, decision on Childe's part to a complicated mess that you can’t help but be enthralled in. I went in expecting your typical romance and ended up in something that was more complex than I expected but also beautifully thought provoking.

Entirely Out of Spite by Bgtea

"Welcome to a new user experience! You have triggered this interface with the keywords, ‘Stupid game! Stupid devs! I want my f*****g money back!’ You are now bound to the character Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, codename: Childe! We hope you have an enjoyable user experience and we welcome you once again to Genshin Impact 2.0!”

Those are some of the first words Ajax, starving college student extraordinaire, has the misfortune of hearing upon waking up in a brave new world from what he's fairly sure is a very, very fatal accident involving water and a shit ton of electricity.

Okay, so he's not dead. That's good. But what's this about him being stuck playing the character Tartaglia? Tartaglia, as in the shitty, one-dimensional, cartoonish villain who met his untimely, gruesome death in the first act of the original game?

Fuck that noise. Like hell Ajax is going to share that fate.

And so begins one man's journey to unfuck himself.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Whenever this updates, I squeal. If you’re a fan of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System or just transmigration/reincarnation plots in general, you’re going to love it. Bgtea does a beautiful job in balancing humor with the trauma that comes with the whole reincarnation plotline. The whole of it is beautiful written and watching Childe/Ajax interact with the other characters (and the perspective of those characters) is a delight! 

the sister by glassdrachma

The tragic and unexpected death of Zhongli-xiansheng of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor occurred to the sorrow of many and the deep skepticism of a few.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: glassdrachma has a gift for humor and romance. In short, Zhongli fakes his death for plot reasons and comes back as Jianlao, the bereaved twin sister. Shenanigans ensue, featuring overprotective Liyue-ians (?), chaotic gremlin Venti, and Kexing. Very light hearted, good for the soul.

The White Cicada Society by clementinesgulag

After his little brother is bundled back to Snezhnaya, Childe makes good on his promise to the traveller and takes the first boat out of Liyue Harbor. Any sense of homecoming lasts about as long as an uncooked steak in front of Xiangling, however, when his boat sinks, grounding him back in the mainland.

It's just as well, because the next morning, a body is found in the Northland Bank. A visit from a fellow Harbinger reveals a far more insidious plot than anything Childe could concoct with a god of the vortex and twenty minutes without supervision. The murders aren’t limited to the one Bank. They’ve been trailing down the Liyue border, getting closer and closer to the city. The Tsaritsa has a new mission for him: to figure out who, or what is targeting Fatui forces.

Against his best wishes, Childe is forced to see Zhongli again at the morgue. It becomes clear that he’s going to need a guide, and Childe resolves to quash his pride, and their differences to request his help to navigate Liyue and solve the case.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A diamond in the rough that I slept on and then stumbled back to by accident. I had it marked for later on AO3 and forgot about it for like a good week to my utter self-disgust. It. Is. So. Damn. Good! The mystery is intriguing but I live for the realistic portrayal of the aftermath of the whole gnosis plotline. The betrayal, the bitterness, but ah, the sexual tension. The harbinger interactions in this fic make it gold though.

Lungs full of Roses by SecretlyACatLady

Childe had always assumed that he would die young. He had accepted that a long time ago, ever since he accepted the mantle of a Fatui Harbinger. However, he always thought that he would die in a glorious fight, his body broken but spirit relishing the strong opponent that had bested him. He was okay with that type of death.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Fate had decided to add one last insult to injury, because, here Childe was, dying because he had fallen in love with the ex-Geo Archon. The same Archon who seemed to have discarded him like an old toy ever since the Osial Incident. --- In which divine beings are cruel and a cursed Childe starts preparing for his inevitable death because no Archon could ever love a mortal.

…Right?

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic that started it all for me, the one that sucked me into the fandom. This fic is heartbreaking. We always do love a hanahaki plotline but something about the way it frames the disease and the shame that comes with it...I highly recommend giving it a read. The angst is real I tell you.

The Bride of The Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

“You’re to be sent on a special mission, Tartaglia.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed in interest. “How special?” He asked as he wiped the blood off his daggers.

His superior grinned. “Special enough to put your name in Snezhnaya’s history books.”

—

In which the Archon War ravaged the land of Liyue and to ensure the people’s survival, the God of Geo established the Harvester Contract: One bride per village, every year, in exchange for protection and a good harvest.

Or: Childe is sent on an undercover mission to kill the Geo Archon, but things don’t go as planned.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Don’t let the title scare you off--this isn’t one of those fics where they feminize one of the male characters and reduce their personality to a mindless submissive bobblehead to the point that I want to throw my laptop out of the window. Not that there’s anything wrong if you like that kind of thing, just not my cup of tea. This fic though---READ IT! There’s just something refreshing about the writing and the plot, the way that Childe’s character reads off the page. I live for the interactions between the characters and how the author has mapped the relationships. Warning that recent chapters have swerved decided into NSFW territory though.

the brothers grim by izabellwit

Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process.

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

Ships: N/A

Notes: Ahh, little Kaeya. Cheeky ass little shit that’s too angsty and adorable for his own good. I don’t have words for this fic. It makes my heart warm but also makes me want to weep because god, this fic covers exactly how traumatic Kaeya’s situation is and why child soldiers/spies just shouldn’t be. And the dynamic he has with Diluc and Crepus--do me a favor and read it. Screams found family.

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A light-hearted, humorous and fluffy as hell piece. Short word is that Venti comes to Liyue for some fun, causes chaos, accidentally plays matchmaker, and steals some vegetables. A get-together fic for Childe and Zhongli that includes a surprisingly self-aware (if blunt and snarky) Zhongli and jealous Childe that gets increasingly flustered.

melt (speak or forever hold your peace) by anatakana

Falling into bed with Diluc was an unbelievably bad idea given their tumultuous shared history, but Kaeya’s impulsive urge to amuse himself knew no bounds.

It’s all fun and games until emotions got involved.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: THIS IS NSFW. With plot though? This is THE FIC that got me shipping the two (though the game did a good job on its own). The angst is real here and we love the sheer gal of both of these two stupid men.

Cascading (In a good way) by Hubbleablubble

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

(Or: A series of events in which Albedo gets to know Kaeya, and they slowly go from strangers to acquaintances to something more.)

Ships: Albedo/Kaeya

Notes: Sweet fic. Not my typical ship pairing. Loved the Khaenri’ah mentions. Kaeya is Trans FTM here though it’s only briefly mentioned. There is also an incomplete sequel (as of May 2021) featuring an Overprotective Big Brother Diluc on a warpath giving shovel talks to everyone except apparently Albedo that’s also worth reading.

The Language of Flowers by Jules (Penwyn)

Kaeya Alberich has made a habit of lying—after all, the only truths he’s ever spoken cost him everything—but there are only so many lies a man can tell before the truth comes spilling out.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Hanahaki! Except not! Basically, Kaeya pukes up flowers that say the truth whenever he lies. Cue, angst! Lovely and quick read--love Kaeya’s voice here.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly."

Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-"

Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?"

Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Childe, you idiot. Humorous and funny, very light hearted. Makes you wonder if Childe has an IQ. He’s too busy pining/lovesick to realize that he told his target that he’s going to kill him for his gnosis. Zhongli and Liyue remain confused on how Childe still DOES NOT get it but half-ass hiding his Archon status anyway.

the bird without wings by Anonymous

"Kaeya!" someone yells. Small arms wrap around his waist tightly, red hair spilling out of the ponytail, and Kaeya's heart almost stops.

He's talked his way out of all types of situations. From placating international disputes to buttering up his informants, he's always had a quick response to everything.

But for once, Kaeya is speechless. He stares down at the boy with puffy cheeks, slightly crooked teeth and sparkling bright eyes.

Eight year old Diluc beams back.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Diluc gets de-aged and Kaeya gets angsty. The interactions between the two are heartwarming and will induce tears. Childe makes a brief appearence that *chef’s kiss*

call me "lover boy" by Anonymous

Zhongli turns back, eyes bright with amusement, a stray lilypad still stuck in his hair, and Childe thinks, wow. I want to kiss him stupid.

Childe's not into the whole "swooning maiden patiently waiting for his beloved to swoop down and smooch the daylights out of him" thing. Nah, that's not his style. He's Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers, and he's going to kiss Zhongli right now.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: FUNNY AS HELL. Childe is straight up just trying to plant one on Zhongli but fate and people just keep interfering. It’s a weird trope aversion where the character is actively trying to confess rather than avoiding it but life gets in the way. 

springtime in snezh-nya-ya by miaomaomei

Tartaglia’s body moves before he can even think about it. He arches his back and flattens his ears against his head, baring his teeth in a hiss. Considering he barely even reaches Scaramouche's knees — Scaramouche, of all people! The guy is practically the size of a fourteen-year-old — he doubts that he is cutting as imposing a figure as he hopes.

It isn't a surprise, though. No one could become a Fatui Harbinger if they were scared of a little cat.

OR

Tartaglia is turned into a cat and he goes to Zhongli for help. It goes about as well as expected.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. This is just pure fluff I swear. Love how Childe is written and the interactions between the two are just ahhhh. A balm on the soul.

Melt by tanktrilby

“My name is Diluc,” he says. A scowl naturally furrows his brow, and Kaeya looks like he wants to laugh.

He’s looking at him through his lashes again, blue eyes teasing and warm. “Diluc,” he says. “A knight in overalls isn’t quite where I thought my preferences would lie, but here we are.”

(or: Kaeya loses his memories and makes some assumptions. Diluc can't honestly tell him that he's wrong.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: As the summary says, Kaeya loses his memories. Diluc plays babysitter for plot reasons. Meanwhile, Kaeya freaks out and has an essential crisis because his instincts freak him out which = angst. Simultaneously, sort of love confessions? 

you are cordially invited by ktenologious

When the Traveler receives a mysterious invitation from a Snezhnayan businessman, they seek out help from the only Snezhnayan they are on good terms with. They decide it is a wonderful idea to go to this business party in the middle of the ocean because, well, what could be better entertainment than watching a Fatui Harbinger at work? It is too bad Childe couldn't come with them...

Meanwhile, the Tsaritsa needs someone to track down the source of a brand new drug at a party on a cruise; it just so happens that she has two Harbingers who specialize in causing chaos and sinking ships. Scaramouche is a sadist and loves this, and Tartaglia... Well, Tartaglia just wants to know why is he the one in the dress again.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, sort of Diluc/Kaeya & Scaramouche/Childe

Notes: Features a crossdressing Childe and Kaeya for plot reasons. Funny as hell. Love Fatui dynamics/interactions. Highly recommend. Go read it. I’m serious. It’s so beautiful, I can’t. Also Zhongli is so love-sick and jealous, it’s hilarious.

The Road to Snezhnaya by paranoid_fridge

Everything's done and over. Now, Zhongli only needs to adjust to living like an ordinary mortal. Or that is what he thinks until a familiar face shows up in Liyue. Teucer comes looking for his brother who failed to return to Snezhnaya on the Fatui ships. And as Childe's declared "friend", Zhongli must help Teucer find him.

Or: Teucer drags Zhongli on a cross-country goose chase looking for Childe. Zhongli just happens to find a bit more along the way.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I have no words for this fic outside of the fact that it is clear that Teucer has the only functioning brain and should be Best Man because he obviously did all the work here. Features an oblivious Childe and overprotective Zhongli, plus bystander Kaeya that is getting allll of the gossip. And also the most destructive group of children ever.

basket of knives by oronine

“I just want to be loved,” Childe says to himself, to whoever is listening. “Is that too much to ask?”

They are on the roof once more, this time Childe’s foot touches the edge of the building as he daydreams of something that cannot be. The sky is blank and cloudy and perhaps Lumine fears it’ll all end when he takes a step.

“Not at all,” she says. It’s still the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Childe hates his family but loves them all the same.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self-harm, depression, etc. Not a light read by any definition. Set in a modern AU, not in the genshin impact universe. Features a Childe that is Not Okay, good friend but also probably traumatized friend Lumine (and her brother Aether), and Zhongli. Family dynamic is messed up as hell and explores mental health quite well in my opinion. I’m not sure how healthy necessarily Childe’s relationships are but I think that’s a given considering the context and how derailed his mental health is in this fic. Definitely angst as heavy, made me tear up quite a bit. Read, but pay attention to the content/trigger warnings as it does get quite explicit.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Ships: Chongyun/Xinqiu

Notes: JFKLFJS I LOVE THIS. I love Chongyun’s characterization and the interaction between all the characters. The dynamic between Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling are to die for. Also, this line: “Stuck-up Persnickety Bastard.” Random note but Xiao throws Chongyun off a balcony yet is also 100% a softie.

Talks about Nothing by tzitzimeme

In which Zhongli unlocks the Memory of Dust, only to find out:

1. Guizhong is 100% alive (just disembodied) within it, 2. Guizhong has been watching over him this whole time, and 3. Guizhong is very excited by the prospect of Zhongli getting a cute Snezhnayan boyfriend.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Venti/Xiao

Notes: The pure judgment that Guizhong unleashes on Zhongli (as well as her sass in general) is pure comedic gold. The dynamic between Xiao and Venti are also adorable. Meanwhile, Childe misunderstands and also just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

xi wangmu by tzitzimeme

Xiangling scales entire mountains to satisfy the palettes of her two pickiest customers.

(Or, two men who are emotionally stunted by their own immortality inadvertantly turn an overly enthusiastic chef into their messenger pigeon.)

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao (?)

Notes: Not sure if it reads romantic exactly, can definitely be read as platonic. The fic boils down to Xiangling trying to expose Xiao to variety because just eating plain almond tofu is a no no. Zhongli gives advice/uses Xiangling as a messenger pigeon. Backstory is explored!

Falling (Fallen) by asinglecrow

It’s only when Childe finds himself in front of Zhongli, a spear protruding from his stomach, that he thinks oh I might have fucked up.

Or: The worst (best) day of Childe's life.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Funny and lighthearted! Gets sort of NSFW with passing mention of mpreg but otherwise, it’s just pure humor/fluff. Get-together fic featuring deadpan dragon Zhongli and Childe that is just done with everything. 

the louvre by morisuke

Here in Liyue, the air is filled with the ocean, and the sun shines through the mountains like it’s flowing through a crack in the sky. Here in Liyue, there is a man with no wallet at a vending machine that is going to waste the rest of his day showing a stranger around their school campus for a pocket sized can of iced coffee.

It’s interesting here in Liyue, Childe thinks.

or

Where Childe flirts with a stranger at a campus vending machine.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Set in a modern/college AU. This is a relatively quiet, soft kind of story. Childe comes to Liyue because reasons and falls in love quietly. It’s more of a snippet of life type of fic that’s sweet and peaceful. Love the change that comes over Childe as he finds a home.

[electricbluebutterflies]

Charloe + shielding the other one with their body

Post-whatever, PG-ish, also on ao3.

She’s not actually sure how they got into this situation, so… normal enough day, really.

It would be nice, Charlie thinks, if they could make it a week without incidents. But with personalities as they are, and herself the unexpected handler of someone with occasionally problematic ambitions, who she has followed across the continent because someone has to save that man from himself and she could do worse things with her mid-twenties, that feels decidedly unlikely.

So, it’s about the line between afternoon and evening, they’re in a place that could loosely be described as a bar, and the wrong person looked at her too long and all hell broke loose. Totally normal.

She can defend herself fine, and her companion is all too aware of that – the fact that he’s lost track of how many times she’s tried to pull a gun on him does help matters, as does that time she bit him when he tried to wake her up during a nightmare, and-

Honestly, if they are fated to spend the rest of their lives driving each other crazy and never doing anything about the tension between them, she’s fine with that. There have been a few distraction kisses because it’s generally easier to fake a different dynamic around people they don’t know, and she’s gotten used to his hands over certain covered places for about the same reason, but it ain’t going anywhere and they both know it. Timing and desperation are never right. She’s thought about it, and she knows he has too, and-

The fact that she can hold her own in a fight does not cancel out the fact that her favorite person in the world right now, and she can at least admit that even if she’s still having trouble with how much she wants to climb him, is a dumbass with recurrent anger issues and a particular sense of honor that appears to have developed as a consequence of spending too much time with her. She’s no delicate flower, she hopes he at least gets that much, but she’s still small by comparison and-

Normal enough for him to maneuver her, normal enough for her body to end up behind his before she’s even sure who threw the first punch.

“The hell did you do?” she asks, trying to channel an expression and tone of this asshole better maim you or else I’m going to when it’s over.

“The idea that you might not be interested did not go over well.”

Yeah, so, the honor issue. Great.

Again, Charlie would love to know how she got stuck with all of this. Monroe is… not exactly reformed, and may not be capable of that and the longer they travel together the more she tries to accept that some edges can’t be sanded off, but at least his concept of loyalty veers existent, and for some strange reason that may be the weirdest mix of lust and atonement ever experienced, he’s protective of her. Normally she’ll take it, but normally he’s not bleeding for it, and-

“I could’ve said that myself.”

“Too late now.”

And oh if that statement doesn’t sum up how things always seem to go for them. There’s a quote she remembers hearing when she was little, something like ‘ask forgiveness not permission’, and damned if that doesn’t describe him. Or both of them, really, she can be just as bad and-

They win, which is to say they do not die or get shot, so it ends up on the good end of normal.

“Don’t do that again,” she says later as she tries to bandage up a cut on his good arm. She’s a questionable field medic and they both know it, but at the moment she’s more coordinated so too bad.

“I’ll try not to.”

They both know, as she makes sure the cleaning alcohol gets real deep in that cut, that any effort will last a month at most. Ah well. At least they’ll try.

[zofiamagus]

Onii-chan Struggles ⁎ Luthier & Arthur

@zephyntus

It takes Luthier approximately half a day to start thinking about Delthea.

Not that this was unexpected - he was fully aware that, no matter how many times she assures him and he assures himself that she will be just fine on her own and with the villagers checking on her, he would be concerned for her. In spite of that, he decided to set out on his travels.

(He does hope she thinks about him, too.)

Well, he has no one but himself to blame for the consequences of his actions. When in doubt, books. After lectures, he finds a nice and quiet spot outside and seats himself on the stone stairs with one of the several books about magic he has borrowed from the Academy’s library. Their collection appears most impressive so far, he has to admit.

Two pages in, his focus is broken as the sound of a conversation reaches him. Irritation is the first emotion he experiences - why did he decide to study outside again? - but his curiosity is piqued as he overhears the chat, the source of which turns out to be two lilac-colored individuals passing nearby.

Siblings, by the look and sound of it. A brother and a sister. Luthier feels something jump in his heart. In the somewhat painful sort of way.

(They both joked about being free from each other, yet he would give much to have her here.)

The young man bids farewell to his sibling shortly before he is about to walk past the redhead. Luthier hesitates briefly - he is just as interested as he is inept at initiating a conversation...

“Pardon me,” he finally says when the long-haired student is next to him. Okay, that is a start. “I take it this was your sister just now?... You two seem very bonded.”

The word sister fills his heart with warmth in a very natural way as it rolls off his tongue, bringing a light smile to his face.

“Ah, I apologize for speaking out of the blue. I am an older brother myself, so...” He pauses, wondering what a good way to continue the sentence would be. “... So this is nice to see. Alas, my sister is not present here.”

Does this work for a conversation starter?

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Back Door” (TMT Part 2)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (SKZ); Some Mentions of Y/N x Bang Chan and Y/N x Changbin

Warnings: Language and Mature Content

Word Count: 5K

Genre: High School AU! Sequel!

Summary: In the grand scheme of things, Y/N should’ve known better than to expect everything to work out on its own. But is she ready to face the consequences of her actions?

A/N: Read TMT Here!!

The sun had barely peaked through the blinds when I felt a sharp pain in my lower back. 

It was both unexpected and jarring, and I winced at the dull, persistent ache, attempting to turn over onto my side, when I realized that I couldn’t because a strong grip was keeping me held in place. Then, there was nothing but dread overtaking the previous disorientation of my exhaustion, and I cringed when Jisung made a soft noise and pulled me even closer, burying his face against my shoulder.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, trying to free myself from his hold because the vestiges of panic were beginning to take root, and images from our previous night together were flying through my head at an exponential pace.

Holy shit! I slept with Jisung!

“Don’t think so hard, baby,” Jisung purred, and he was nipping playfully at the skin surrounding my collarbone.

The picture of confidence in contradiction to the shy little boy from the previous night who could barely keep his cock from falling out.

“I’m not,” I protested, even as I continued squirming around in his arms, feeling a shock travel up my spine when I accidentally felt his flaccid length against my thigh.

“Mmm,” Jisung murmured, breaths hot against my face as he pressed a kiss to the corner of my lip. “You still look pretty in the mornings.” He chuckled, reaching back with one hand to brush through his disastrous hair. “I’m sure I look like a mess.”

“Jisung,” I said as sternly as possible because I knew I needed to be forceful, to keep him from acting like this could be anything normal for us. Because he and I both needed to admit that this was a big mistake. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh!” Jisung remarked, and I could breath a sigh of relief when he removed his arm from around my waist. “Hurry back.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, cursing the existence of last night over and over again as I wrapped a blanket around my torso before moving through the house to the guest bathroom on the lower floor. “What the fuck have you done!” I groaned when I greeted my reflection in the mirror - eyes bloodshot from the alcohol, and feminine features holding so much tension from the horrors of the morning after whatever the hell I had allowed to happen between me and Jisung.

After all these years of dissuading Jisung’s advances, I just committed the worst sin of them all: I gave him an opening to the thing he wanted most from me. 

“Calm down,” I whispered to that grisly reflection, splashing water against my face as I sucked down multiple deep breaths.

“Y/N!” I heard Jisung call for me, even all the way downstairs separated by an entire floor.

It still wasn’t enough separation.

“Coming!” I shouted back because I knew I couldn’t avoid this, especially not with someone like Jisung. Someone who had been admiring me from afar from so long. Someone who was way too close to ignore because of his life-long friendship with Felix.

I couldn’t run from what I helped to create, so I gathered as much confidence as I could muster while still looking like shit in the mirror, walking slowly back upstairs while trying to make sense of the chaos breaking through the desire to live in an independent world where everything was fine.

“There you are,” Jisung chirped from where he had made himself comfortable at the counter in the kitchen, pouring milk into two glasses. “You wanna order some breakfast?”

“Not hungry,” I said, sliding into place in front of one of the glasses.

“Oh, sure,” Jisung replied, and he shook off my frigid tone. “The milk is good.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, watching him from the corner of my eye as he sat down next to me.

“I checked the date, so don’t worry,” he said with a giggle, perfectly at ease in the familiar setting of my kitchen. Except that nothing was normal, it couldn’t be taken that way after all the events that transpired last night.

“I trust you,” I whispered, looking down vacantly into the milky white liquid.

“Well, where do you want to go today?” Jisung asked, and I experienced the sharp sting of guilt - a nasty feeling weighing heavily on my chest - when his smile reached both corners of his eyes. “We can do what you want.”

“We should talk...” I said, trailing off when Jisung nodded.

“We can talk,” he agreed. “I like listening to you.”

“Jisung.” I sighed, hating that he was so nice because it made it difficult to say the things that would drive that smile away. “It’s kinda heavy...”

“You don’t have to say it then,” Jisung insisted, and I felt hurt all over again when I realized that he thought the words would affect me! That they might make me sad and he wanted to assure me that I never had to vocalize such difficult subjects. 

“I need to say it,” I continued. “I mean, there’re plenty of other things I’d rather do, but this is important.”

“Oh?” Jisung smirked, and I knew that his mind had traveled somewhere else. “Do you want to have sex again?” Jisung continued as if I had never spoken. “I had a lot of fun with you last night.”

“That’s the whole problem,” I said, swallowing hard before pushing it out. “Jisung, about last night-”

DING DONG!

I frowned when the sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted my chain of thought, especially when Jisung was so quick to scoot off his chair to answer whoever it was waiting on the other side. “Hold on,” I said, following behind him just in time to see the person standing on the porch. “Chan?”

“Hey,” Chan greeted us, and his previous smile was displaced by a chastened look, searching between the two of us with a curious expression. “Were you two together?”

“Jisung stays over sometimes,” I said, talking over Jisung before he could proclaim us as soulmates. 

“Ah,” Chan nodded. “So, you’re not busy?”

“Not right now,” I agreed, trying to push off a stubbornly persistent Jisung while Chan continued to study us from the porch.

“Okay, well, Changbin’s having a party at his place tonight,” Chan said. “If you guys want to come.”

“I don’t know...”

“We’d love to,” Jisung intervened, taking his turn to speak over me, but I couldn’t think of a worse scenario.

“Great,” Chan said, and his smile was back as he started to retreat. “I’ll see you guys there.”

Saturday

I couldn’t change Jisung’s mind, which meant that my arm was neatly tucked into his as he led us up the sidewalk to Changbin’s lavish home.

Although, mansion might be a more accurate description.

“Are you excited?” Jisung asked, pulling me away from my study of the intimate ornate columns and impressive Greco-Roman inspired architecture.

“Once I get ahold of some alcohol,” I grumbled, and Jisung laughed like it was the funniest thing I had ever said to him.

“We’ve got you covered, baby,” Jisung said, and I rolled my eyes at the petname, especially when he was using it on me.

Especially when he continued using it on me. All. Week. Long.

Walking up to Changbin’s house in the middle of the night while listening to Jisung talk about the man in question like they had known each other for their entire lives.

“I wonder where he is?” Jisung questioned when we joined the impossible fray of students - high school and college alike - spreading throughout the grandeur space inside.

“I might know a few places,” I murmured because Jisung wasn’t meant to overhear, and my eyes were drawn to the secluded corners of the house, the places that Changbin seemed inclined to escape to just like the first night we met one another. 

“Let’s find something to drink,” Jisung said, and I nodded my head and followed him into the other room.

It didn’t take long to find a couple beers, twisting off the tops and drinking while several students - probably friends of Chan and Changbin who had introduced their new third piece - crowded around me and Jisung to ask him questions about the 3racha.

“We’re releasing a special project soon,” Jisung said, and I could tell he was enjoying the attention.

But it must be nice to get some recognition for a passion that you had spent years perfecting.

It also provided the perfect opportunity for me to slip away from his careful eye, wandering back into the main room where a familiar figure captured my attention hidden away near the fireplace in the den.

“Y/N,” Changbin greeted me with his familiar smirk, beckoning me closer while drinking from his glass.

“I thought you might be away from the action,” I said, feeling a bit more comfortable next to Changbin, and far from the prying eyes of the other students.

“It gets crowded,” he said, and we both turned to the sudden sound of raucous laughter, emanating from the same room where I had just left. “You came with Jisung?”

“Yeah, but he found some admirers,” I said, attempting to make a joke of the situation.

“You two must be together,” Changbin remarked, and the corner of his mouth lifted into something resembling an arrogant look. “He acts like it.”

“Don’t mind him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We haven’t really talked about things.”

“Oh?” Changbin hummed. “Why is that?”

“Because it was a mistake,” I insisted, but saying it loud didn’t necessarily reflect the confusing ball of emotions that I felt buried away around my heart.

“Mistake?” Changbin repeated, and his eyes glossed over with a mischievous gleam, reaching down for my hand to pull me along with him upstairs. “That’s interesting.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I didn’t protest when he opened the door to what I imagined to be his bedroom, slamming it closed behind him before leading me over to the bed. 

“Jisung wouldn’t agree with you,” Changbin said, and he pushed me down onto the mattress. “In fact, Jisung told me before that you were the love of his life.”

Changbin rolled his eyes at the cheesy sentiment, crawling over top of me with a predatory glare. “Jisung doesn’t know anything about love,” I retorted, and my body was responding to Changbin’s advances, craving his skilled touches as I guided his hand down to the hem of my skirt.

“Remember when I finger-fucked you in my car?” he whispered directly into my ear, free hand coming down to hold my waist.

“Yes,” I whined in return, swallowing hard when his fingers moved along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, snapping the band of my panties into place when they reached even higher, leaving intimate goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he growled in a low timber that sent shivers down my spine.

“Please,” I panted against his lips, desperate for him to eliminate the remaining distance between us....

But then the spell was broken.

Jarring us both away from one another, gazes drawn to the door.

“What the hell are you two doing!”

“Shit!” I cursed, pushing Changbin back as my eyes immediately flew to Jisung’s horrified expression. Standing in the doorway to Changbin’s bedroom with his mouth almost reaching the floor.

“Relax,” Changbin spoke nonchalantly, sitting back on his knees. “Why are you so tense?”

I roughly elbowed him in the side, deciding that he was far too much of a jerk in that moment to warrant anything less. 

Still, there was the issue of Jisung who had obviously taken precedence, and everyone was silent while I tried to formulate something. Any semblance of an explanation that might help me avoid an impending meltdown. “Jisung-”

“No!” Jisung screeched, and I was taken aback at the primitive noise that had just come from him. “You won’t treat me like this.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped in return.

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Jisung continued, and I was surprised to see Jisung acting so unhinged. “You know how I feel about you. I’ve always tried to show you that much, but then I bring you here and you sneak off to try and fuck Changbin?”

I opened my mouth to say anything, but there was nothing that could’ve prepared so this onslaught of passionate rage from Jisung. The same boy who usually batted his eyelids at me and giggled at jokes from his friends.

“We never talked about anything,” I eventually said.

“You never gave us a chance,” Jisung said, and I realized that he was right, even though I tried the other morning.

There had always been plenty of chances.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but Jisung scoffed and gave me a bitter-sounding laugh.

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and the words echoed around inside my head, even after he left without any further consideration for me.

“Well, that was weird,” Changbin chuckled, and he started to kiss me again, like nothing had even transpired.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at him. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” Changbin shrugged. “We’re both just looking for a quick fuck, right?”

“Is that what you think?” I asked him. “That I’m just a quick fuck?”

“Obviously,” Changbin snorted. “Haven’t I been playing you just right this entire time, baby?”

I nearly screamed at his mocking use of Jisung’s petname, shouldering past him in my haste to get away from him. “You’re a dick,” I growled, even as the sharp sting of tears threatened to expose my façade of masked indifference, and I refused to show someone who had manipulated my emotions that they were even remotely successful in making me feel completely useless.

I had the radio playing in the background when I drove to Chan and Changbin’s studio the next morning.

There was a part of me that wanted to make peace with Jisung, on the off chance that he was even there, but an even bigger part who just wanted to hide from those confusing emotions. To choose something even more powerful to mask the hurt.

Lust, for example, which guided me into the studio where I discovered Chan sitting behind a computer in one of the production rooms.

“Y/N,” he said, noticing my arrival and removing his headphones. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I just wanted to come by,” I said, sauntering closer to him, hoping that he could pick up on what I wanted from him.

“Jisung isn’t here,” Chan said, and I flinched at his name but remained undeterred.

“I’m not here for him,” I said, lowering my tone. 

“I heard what happened at the party,” Chan tried again, but I didn’t allow him to finish his thought, straddling his thighs before locking our lips together in a desperate kiss. “Y/N,” he spoke in the very limited space between our mouths, clashing and bruising together.

“Just fuck me, please,” I begged him, digging my fingers into his shirt as I forced our lips together once again.

“No,” Chan groaned, and I was more than taken aback when he pushed me away. Not enough to send me sprawling out of his lap, but enough to make a clear point.

“Why?” I whispered, feeling myself teeter on the edge of tears which didn’t make any sense. There was no reason to be upset, and I blamed Jisung and the way he messed with my most volatile emotions,

“I shouldn’t have done anything with you,” Chan said. “It was a stupid competitive thing with Changbin.”

“You regret it?” I asked, breaking the skin of my lower lip between my teeth, tasting blood before Chan sighed and forced me to relax.

“Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but after hearing Jisung talk about you...” Chan trailed off, and I was suddenly even more upset when he left me to fill in the blanks.

“I didn’t come here to talk about Jisung,” I said, feeling my mental state perform a complete 180, wiping away any evidence of those pesky tears.

“You came here to avoid him,” Chan said. “But is it really the right thing to do?”

“Since when do you care?” I asked with a harsh exhale, and Chan nodded like he was perfectly accepting of my anger.

“I don’t deserve to be on good terms with you,” Chan continued. “Changbin and I...we were both very manipulative with our intentions.”

“You took advantage of me,” I hissed, and Chan’s eyes widened as he shook his head fiercely.

“No!” he said, and it was very stern. “I would never do that to anyone! Well, I mean, I’m terrible with relationships.”

I frowned. “You should’ve told me. The upfront dishonesty is not appreciated.”

Chan sighed at my implication. “Look, I told you that I can’t seem to get anything right, but if there’s one person who was always honest with you-”

“Jisung,” I interrupted him with a sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Chan said, taking a firm grip on my chin to force my eyes to meet his own. “Talk to him. Forget about me and Changbin.”

“That’s hard to do since Minho likes you,” I quipped, and he chuckled.

“You can pretend to like me,” Chan offered, and I shrugged because maybe it was a good compromise.

“Fine, pretending works,” I said. “Especially since you’re kind of an asshole.”

Chan winced at my words. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, but I came here to do something stupid again,” I said. “I guess I failed.”

“Not really,” Chan said, and he reached behind him for a discarded piece of paper. “Come watch us perform this weekend,” Chan said, holding out the flyer which I accepted. “Make it up to him.”

I gritted my teeth together, reading the headline of the flyer before looking back at Chan. “He won’t forgive me.”

“Well, not until you come to terms with what you want first,” Chan said, and I knew that he was right. 

“I don’t think I want him...”

“Are you sure about that?” Chan asked. “Think hard on it, and I’ll save you a good seat and a bottle of beer.”

“That’s hard to resist,” I said, and I slowly gathered myself out of his lap, readjusting my clothes and brushing off the imaginary dust that couldn’t possibly have collected on the fabric. “I’ll see you soon then.”

Chan nodded, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Consider it a peace offering.”

I scoffed at the display, but accepted his extension of peace or whatever nonetheless. 

Yeah, he made it hard to stay mad at him, even though he deserved every bit of my wrath, but he also made it hard not to see the obvious reasoning with making things right with Jisung. 

One of the few people in my life who had never been anything but kind.

It was Saturday night, and I was nervous and anxious when I walked inside the venue where 3racha would be performing.

Thankfully, my brothers had also been invited, and I found them in the crowd quickly, determined to stick to their sides until I had enough confidence to face Jisung alone. 

“Get ready!” Felix shouted when the overheard music turned down low, signaling the crowd to turn their attention towards the stage where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were all walking out, microphones in hand.

I shifted next to Minho when I noticed Jisung, decked out in an all-black ensemble, beanie cap pulled low over his eyes. 

“Looks like Jisung invaded Chan’s closet,” Minho quipped, and Felix snorted around his drink while I found myself studying the way his lithe figure was heavily accentuated by the tight leather.

“3rd Eye, are you ready to get loud?” Chan bellowed into the microhome, and the crowd answered his call with raucous yelling as thumping, heavy bass music began to play in the background.

And then, right before my very eyes, little Han Jisung, Felix’s dorky best friend, stepped forward to the edge of the stage and started to rap his lyrics at a speed that surely defied the very barrier of space and time?

“Holy shit,” I said, finding myself drawn into Jisung’s careful handling of the beat, riding its dips and flaws with mastery, leading the crowd with some kind of invisible magnetism. “Jisung is really good!”

“Of course, he is,” Felix scoffed, like I should’ve known better. “He’s been practicing since middle school.”

“He has?” I returned, but the question went unanswered as Felix enthusiastically continued to cheer for his friend, and I was caught up in the whirlwind of the crowd’s enthusiasm while my own heart beat incredibly fast for several much different reasons.

Their stage ended on a high, and I found that my voice was hoarse from screaming with the rest of the patrons, clapping like a madwoman while 3racha disappeared backstage. 

“Let’s see if we can find, Sung,” Felix suggested, and any prior elation was gone as I remembered my original purpose for coming here.

“I’d love to congratulate him,” Minho agreed, and I reluctantly followed my brothers to the backstage entrance where a bouncer noticed them and waved them forward.

Must be some kind of friend privileges.

Regardless, it brought me to where I needed to be, and I hesitated when we were pulled even deeper between sound equipment and storage containers.

“Where are they?” Minho asked.

“I see Chan,” Felix said, pointing ahead of us, and I bit back my disappointment at finding Chan first.

“You guys made it,” Chan said, coming over to greet us, giving Minho some weird, elaborate handshake.

I rolled my eyes at their boyish oddities, glancing around the backstage area, not looking for anything in particular, until....

Jisung. Standing over there with another girl.

I froze, watching as Jisung leaned in closer to whisper directly into her ear in a decidedly intimate exchange.

“Jisung?” I whispered, and it was enough to steal Minho’s attention who followed my gaze with a chuckle.

“Does Jisung have a girlfriend?”

I swallowed hard at the question, the bitter taste of disappointment, and I ran despite Minho and Felix calling my name. Despite the overbearing sensation of Jisung’s eyes following me the entire time.

It was late when my brothers came home, discovering me sitting alone in the living room.

Felix was the first to react, releasing a loud sigh before he came to sit next to me on the couch. “Rough night?” he asked, voice gruff from the exertion of screaming at the concert.

“You could say that,” I muttered in return, picking at the stitching on the pillow in my lap.

“I guess this is about Jisung,” Minho added, coming to stand in front of me with that stupid concerned look on his face.

“Forget it,” I said. “It isn’t anyone else’s business.”

“Jisung is my friend,” Felix said, and he seemed affronted. “It actually is my business.”

“Fine,” I snapped, turning to glare at Minho. “But you can’t say anything.”

“Yes, I can,” Minho replied. “Because I’m usually the only one who can get you to listen!”

I frowned at the assertion, slumping down even lower against the cushions. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” Minho said, and he stubbornly collapsed next to me despite my warning. “Chan told us everything.”

I sat up immediately, feeling my mouth drop open as I looked at Minho. “What do you mean?”

“We know you have a thing for Jisung,” Minho teased.

“No, I don’t!”

“Then why were you all angsty when you saw him with that other girl?” Felix intervened, snickering at my awe-struck expression. “Besides, you don’t think Jisung wasn’t bragging about finally sleeping with the love of his life?”

“I’m not the love of his life,” I grumped. “He clearly doesn’t care about me.”

“Then you’re blind and stupid,” Felix said, thoughtful as always. But then his expression turned serious. “Y/N, Jisung’s been in love with you since middle school, and I should know because he never shut up about you.”

I sighed at the admission, wrestling with the incessant desire to keep my mouth shut and that smaller part of me that longed to confess everything. “I never knew I wanted him,” I said. “Until I saw him with that other girl...how fucked up is that?”

“It’s not fucked up,” Minho said. “Sometimes, it takes...extraneous circumstances to convince us of our feelings.”

“Especially if that person is you,” Felix continued. “You’re stubborn to a fault.”

“Am not!” I huffed, realizing only a moment later that I was proving their point.

“Look, just give him a chance to explain himself, Y/N,” Minho said. “You clearly owe him an apology, and you both have a lot to talk about.”

“I know,” I begrudgingly agreed, and it was only after I thought about how utterly destroyed I felt after seeing Jisung tonight that I was struck with the weight of importance for what I had to do.

It was Chan’s idea, really, to invite me back to the studio, conveniently at the same time when Jisung was set to record his part for their next single.

At first, I resisted because I didn’t want to interrupt Jisung at work, but then my brothers reminded me that it probably had a lot more to do with myself refusing to face up to my mistakes rather than some kind of respect for professional boundaries.

Nonetheless, I had no idea what I planned to say to Jisung because I could rehearse a given set of words a thousand times, but when it came to actually confronting him, they could all disappear from my head. And instead of floundering around trying to remember them all, I think it might be better to talk to him in the moment as I formulated some semblance of a worthy apology for the hurt I had caused him.

It was also still new, this coming to terms with the fact that Felix’s best friend might be someone who could mean something more to me than that kid who always flirted and shyly whispered hello’s and goodbye’s whenever he came over to spend the night.

But maybe talking would help me figure things out, and after knocking on the studio door, I put on my best smile when Jisung’s face appeared from the other side.

Unfortunately, he wore a scowl that could scare even the bravest of souls, and I was more or less intimidated after asking him if I could come inside. 

“I guess,” Jisung said, leaving the door open for me to close before returning to his seat at the production stand.

“So,” I started, trailing off as I glanced around the room. “This is a nice set-up.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, offering nothing more, and telling me all I needed to know about his openness to starting a conversation with me.

“Right,” I agreed, clearing my throat. “Uh, Jisung? I just wanted to apologize for the other night at the party. It was really out of line for me to act the way I did.”

“Huh,” Jisung scoffed. “I don’t think you really mean that.”

I winced at his dismissal. “I’m being genuine.”

“Hard for me to tell,” Jisung replied, and I shook my head because this was going horribly wrong and I expected him to kick me out at any moment. 

“Your performance was good the other night,” I tried again. “I really like the music, and your rapping is super good.”

“Thanks,” he muttered dryly.

“Seriously,” I insisted. “You’re really talented, and I guess other people noticed before me, which is stupid. But I’m happy for you, and I just want you to do whatever brings you the best opportunities....Oh! And I think your girlfriend is really pretty, not that it’s any of my business-”

“Girlfriend?” Jisung interrupted, turning around to look at me with a confused expression.

“Yeah? The girl I saw you with backstage the other night?” I said, wondering if Jisung was acting this way on purpose.

“You mean my cousin?” he asked, wrinkling his nose in obvious revulsion. “Why would you assume that?”

I groaned, resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall because I was only making things harder and even more awkward. “I didn’t know...I guess it just surprised me, and I took off...” I paused at the confession, fanning myself with one hand. 

“You thought I was dating someone else?” Jisung said. “And it made you feel...?”

“Betrayed,” I sighed, bowing my head in shame. “I guess you probably felt the same way when you saw me with Changbin.”

Jisung frowned, cheeks dusted with red as he considered me. “Yeah, Y/N, I wasn’t happy to see you with someone else after everything that happened between us.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” I whispered. “For everything. I’m literally the worst person on Earth, and you don’t even have to pretend to forgive me or anything. You can just ignore whenever you come over....I probably deserve it.”

Jisung shook his head, playing with the pen held poised between his fingers. “I won’t ignore you.”

I raised my head to meet his gaze. “Honestly, Jisung, seeing that girl the other night made me feel even more ridiculous because I shouldn’t need something like that to happen to make me realize that I really do like you.”

“Y/N...”

“No, really!” I insisted. “I’ve always seen you as Felix’s best friend, but that was stupid and wrong, and I’m sorry for making you hurt and leading you on or whatever. So, like, I needed to tell you how horrible I am, and you can take the apology or curse my existence, whatever! I just needed you to know.”

There was a long moment of quiet between us, and Jisung kept looking at me like he was trying to see past me. 

“You are kinda ridiculous,” Jisung finally said, and I released a deep breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“I talked to Felix and Minho,” I said. “They told me that you’ve always liked me.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, a little bit sheepishly as his ears turned bright red. “That’s always been a thing.”

I giggled at his words. “So...what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, but there was something resembling a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Whatever we want, maybe?”

My smile grew wider because it wasn’t anything like a label, but that just might be the right direction for the two of us. Taking the time to come together after having our paths zig-zag in opposing directions for so long. “Okay,” I agreed, feeling the cold distance minimize like an imaginary conveyor belt was pulling us closer. “Let’s go with that: whatever we want.”

[ikemenvmpire]

Forget-me-not | Leonardo x Comte x Vlad

a/n: Hello beautiful ppl !!! It’s my first time writing a fic about this troublesome trio. Just to let you know there is no spoilers from Vlad’s route in this two-part series (could be three, you’ll never know). I wanted to showcase my fanon approach to their personal relationships and how they both psychologically and physically get affected by them. It’s quite rushed because of my finals and not proof-read I’m not satisfied with my writing, so please forgive me for possible grammar mistakes. Anyways, if you enjoy the content please interact! Let me know what you think, feedback means a lot to me.

Also my requests are open, I accept nsfw/sfw hcs and one-shots with any suitor you’d like

warning: angst, slight violence, true friends that stab you in the front, couple of sexual innuendos here and there.

word count: 2.1k

The good, the bad and the ugly. The subtle whisper inside of his head reminded him of a broken vinyl that kept dragging the notes of an unwanted invite from his memories.

His memories that lived inside his head as vivid as an Evening Primrose that blooms at night.

Upon hearing the silence that bled into the atmosphere surrounding them, Leonardo slowly settled the empty wine glass onto the glass table beside him.

“You’re too loud for your own good, Comte.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Comte turned towards the man that now deliberately searched for a match as he continued with his words that caused nothing but confusion.

“The violin stopped but you did not.”

Comte’s gaze dropped on the floor, meeting with the bow of his instrument laying on the polished floor of his quarters.

Still not pleased with Leonardo’s discourse he locked his eyes with his, demanding clarity.

“I can no longer hear anything other than the wheels that are turning in your head” Leonardo concluded, finishing his words with a light chuckle.

“Him-“ Comte’s words cut short by the lump that disturbed his throat and the heavyweight of the regrets he held in, for god knows how long, creating an immense pressure in his chest.

“I thought so” Leonardo continued, observing as the smoke that he held captive between his plush lips now slowly blurred his vision.

The blond leaned his back against the wall, the soft breeze of the midnight made the curtain beside him caress his hand.

“How long do you plan on keeping this up ?” the tone of his voice was stone cold nevertheless the look in his eyes warmed them up as they echoed in the silent room.

“I don’t know.” Comte murmured, he truly had no idea how to get rid of this troublesome burden. If he did, they would be enjoying their wine instead of Comte’s whining.

“Come” the man said as he placed the cigarillo on the ashtray and got up from his comfortable seat.

“Where to-“ the clicking of his shoes stopped as Leonardo turned his head to the side, not bothering to fully face the man that was intently watching him.

“Follow me and don’t worry about the rest.”

Comte, with a swift movement of his head, urged the fallen strand of his hair move to the side as he lowered himself down to the brightly lit candle.

Following his own reflection on the wax as the drop gently slid down to the remaining pile of melted wax, drowning his reflection in the hot liquid.

He softly blew on the fire to put it out. The smoke mixed with the comforting scent of vanilla danced in the air across the smoke of Leonardo’s cigarette, that suffered the same faith as Comte.

The more he missed him, the more his thoughts invaded his mind, burning through his skull. The reminiscences of the memories that were surrounded by his partner with moonlit hair and even brighter smile, turned Comte into ashes. The consequences of his thought train left him hanging like a dark cloud of smoke.

He grabbed his coat from the hanger near him as he directed his steps towards Leonardo’s spot. Pushing himself to leave his room and his worries as he reaches out to the handle of the door to exit.

“Lead the way, Leo.”

The silence brought serenity as the two of them kept walking in the beautiful forest. The sound of the autumn leaves that tremors under the vigorous darkness of the night filled the air, Leonardo held the careless man that wasn’t watching where he was heading to by the arm.

“Here we are.”

Comte turned towards the tall tree that Leonardo leaned his back against, questioning the unfamiliar feeling that had his head turning.

Leonardo lifted his fist up as he slammed it down againts the tree. His unexpected harsh movement caused Comte to wear a dumbfounded expression. It also urged the nightingales that were previously settled on the branches of the same tree to bat their wings away as they sung a song through the night.

“Hide and seek.” Comte uttered, breathlessly as the rest of the memories poured into his subconscious.

“Ah, there we go. Vlad used to pull this stunt each time.”

Comte laughed, taking a couple of steps back as he fell onto the soft surface of the grass. His childish behavior made Leonardo lose his composure, making two purebloods roar with laughter.

“...and yet you fell for it. Each time.” Upon his shameless accusation, Leonardo frowned and kicked the pile of leaves ahead of him, making them rain on the man that laughed like a maniac.

Comte seeked shelter from his own arms as he let his back fall completely flat on the moist grass. Staining every piece of clothing item he had on.

“No matter my loss, you bought the beers. Sounds like victory to me.” Leonardo responded nonchalantly.

“I am still curious to know why would you hide behind a tree again and again, it’s ridiculously obvious.” Comte continued to laugh as he seemingly couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

“Because it’s easier to hide behind it than to climb it” said Leonardo as a matter of fact.

Comte knew that his response could be interpreted with a single word rather than a whole phrase.

Lazy.

“It’s good to see you smile” he continued as he stared at the horizon.

Comte felt so close yet so far for the past couple of dawns this week. Leonardo surprised himself by being this worrisome of his friend, it was unexpected of him to act or feel this way.

“It hurts.” The painful hue of his tone caught Leonardo off guard.

He directed his gaze towards his feet as he tried to force out the appropriate words to describe how much he was hurting from within. Hoping that him spilling his guts to the only one he trusts, somehow would help lifting some of it’s weight off of his shoulders.

“Comte-“

“What did I do to make him push me away like he did back then ?”

Leonardo decided to seal his parted lips as he followed Comte’s soliloquy with absolute attention.

“I gave him all I had and all I was. My trust, respect and loyalty for him was indubitable.”

He continued, closing his eyes shut. The tension bled from his fingertips, through his soft locks. He clinged on his hair as he concentrated on the darkness behind his fluttering eyelids.

“It wasn’t enough” Leonardo added, carelessly kicking the rock in front of his feet. He knew that greed was more than welcome in Vlad’s vocabulary.

His world wasn’t tainted by useless distractions. He was either black or white, whereas those who considered him a friend lived under a gray sky.

“I wasn’t enough” Comte whispered, his words fell from his lips lighter than a feather.

Leonardo lowered himself to his level as he suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Easily picking him up and capturing him between his strong hold and the tree.

Comte’s pulse quickened thanks to the adrenaline of the moment. His warm but fast breathing felt warm against Leonardo’s cheek.

“You.”

“Look at me and listen to me carefully because I will say this only once.”

“...and I will not see you whimper about shit that you can’t fix ever again.”

Comte, nervous as he was, found comfort in his vulgar action. The harsh friction against his back and even harsher words that tickled his ears made him come back to his senses.

“What would I do without you ?” Leonardo’s brows furrowed in response to Comte’s utterly sappy words.

“Presumably, what you do without me.”

Unanticipated voice that traveled through the depths of the forest made both of them turn their heads slowly as Leonardo’s hands abandoned Comte’s collar.

“Vlad.”

His soft chuckle concealed the suspense of unsolved matters. The air that Comte inhaled now felt sharper than a blade. Vlad’s presence left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. The type he didn’t want to get rid of but also the one he didn’t want to recall.

“Long time no see” Leonardo added, emotionlessly.

“You sound overjoyed Leonardo” Vlad responded, not disturbing his calm and collected aura, not even the slightest.

Comte huffed as he patted on the expensive material of his coat, trying to look more presentable.

“Why are you here ?” He hissed, avoiding possible eye contact in any way he could.

Vlad placed his hand on the inner side of his coat and dragged out a thin velvet envelope. Nearing towards his position, Comte fixed his posture, standing tall with overpowering feeling of manifactured confidence.

Vlad offered him a delightful smile as he raised the blood red envelope between his fingers and brushed the fallen strand of hair in front of Comte’s face with it.

The sharp edge of the envelope traced the delicate skin of his face, the sensation left him almost nervous. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, covering the his body with goosebumps.

Vlad, at last, pressed the envelope on Comte’s chest, where the palm of his hand found his heartbeat.

Comte’s words deceived his true intentions, he couldn’t comprehend how everything felt like the way it did in the past.

The pain felt fresh but what tore his heart apart was the agonizing disappointment.

“Care to explain ?” He said, ignoring the dark cloud of regret that struck thunders above him as he glued his eyes on Vlad’s.

“There’s not much to say when you can just see the things the way they are.”

Leonardo threw his head back as he let out a condescending laugh, letting his tongue wander on his bottom lip.

“Are you still hanging out with Shakespeare ? Where does this literacy come from ?”

“Depends on how you interpret ‘hanging out’.” Vlad lowered his gaze towards his hands with an unreadable smirk, the hands that earlier this encounter found their way up on playwright’s neck.

Comte distracted by the mysterious item that he held, ripped the envelope as the velvet paper revealed a flower with soft purple pedals stained with crimson blood.

The sharp scent got the honey tint of his eyes leaving it’s place to the darkness of his fully dilated pupils under the shock of realization.

The same scent belonged to none other than the new resident of his mansion.

Then the realization hit him, not faster than he hit the devil in disguise.

Vlad landed on his back as his heels dug on the fresh soil with the force of Comte’s blow.

“What did you do to them ?” He spat, the pressure of his clenched teeth visible upon his sharp jaw.

Not amused by his response, that consisted of silence and arrogance, Leonardo held him by his long locks and yanked his head back with the sole purpose of looking down on him.

“He asked you a question, didn’t he ?”

Vlad hissed at his gesture, nevertheless entertained by the burst of untamed hatred.

“I’ve heard.”

He let his eyes stray on his sharp features, a flash of remembrance struck him.

“I don’t think that you would be pleased to hear what I have to say.” His smirked widened, so did Comte’s eyes.

Running out of patience and will power, Comte rushed towards him to wipe the amusement out of his face.

Unbeknownst to him, Vlad was more than ready to wrap his hand around the slender wrist that was aiming to hit him square on the face.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves shall we ?” He muttered as he pulled Comte towards him with a strong grip.

Leonardo watched the scene unfold right in front of his eyes, taking a step forward only to back down afterwards. He decided that letting Comte get trashed would help him come to terms with his unsolved inner matters.

Unsolved matters, unanswered questions that constantly fed his break-point.

Comte struggled to get out of his grip. His nails dug into his flesh, the sweet pain drove his senses wild.

“Tomorrow at 12 a.m., sharp.” He said, placing his warm lips closer to Comte’s ear.

Vlad let his wrist free and stood up, for a short instant none of them seemed to move or speak.

There was a lot to talk about but their emotions lacked words, their questions lacked answers and their actions lacked sincerity.

Vlad turned his back against Comte and directed his gaze towards the bloody flower on the floor. Recalling his memento for one last time.

“Don’t make me wait” was his last command. Cold and ruthless, no sign of mercy or compassion.

Then the farewell of his footsteps followed.

Trust is as safe as a gun afterall.

It doesn’t kill unless it’s in the hands of those who know how to pull the trigger.

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be tagged): @leonardoism @hotanekooo @ranhanabi777 @chaotic-coyote @thedollarstoresatan @justsomepersons @stardust-dreamer13 @nishtharya

Part 2 is coming

[soclonely]

A Life Day Carol- Commander Cody: Part II The General

Part 2/4 of the Lifeday Carol, featuring a long lost friend of the past. 

Word Count: 1,746 Warnings: Mentions of death, ghosty mosty

____________________________________________________

Three spirits...

Past, present, and future...

The consequences.. You must change Cody...

The chrono on the nighttable next to Cody's bed chimed to life. The tired Commander fumbled in the dark to grab it. 2:30 it read. "Why is-" Cody is cut off my a small chuckle from the corner of the room.

"Up and at it Commander!" a cheerful voice said from the corner of the room. "Time to get started on your journey, Sir."

Cody's heart stopped. That voice was.. familiar.. It was his own voice, but.. Different. It couldn't be. Cody rushed over to hit the switch on the wall to reveal his unexpected guest.

A bald man in white and orange armor smiled back at him, a small patch of hair resting under his bottom lip. "Hello, Commander." He laughs, leaning against the wall behind him. "I'm sorry it took so long to come and see you."

"W-Waxer?" Cody stutters. "I-It can't be! You.. You're dead. You died years ago o-on Umbara." He sits down on his bed. "This is to be a dream. I must be dreaming." He rubs his eyes before looking back at the troubling entity still standing there.

"Sir, its really me." He says in a soft voice, gliding over to the startled Commander. "Well, was me. I am now the Ghost of Life Days past" He says proudly. "Get the promotion when your mind decided it." He laughs.

"Life Day?" Cody asks, looking puzzled. "What are you babbling about trooper?"

"Ah. Of course you don't know what today is." Waxer says, sighing. "You'd think the Empire would at least let its citizens celebrate something." He holds out a hand to the Commander. "It's Life Day Sir. Remember? We used to celebrate it in the old days, with our friends." he grunts, helping Cody to his feet. "Force, Commander life must be good to you. You seem to be heavier then I remember."

Cody side eyes the man as he steadies himself. "Watch yourself trooper." he warns sternly, before remembering that Waxer was out of his control. "So er.. What are we to do? Chat about the past?"

Waxer gives another laugh. "Actually, I am going to show you the past." He puts a hand on the Commander's shoulder. "Do you trust me, sir?"

"In theory. Why?"

"Because I am going to need you to close your eyes. For the living, this journey can be a bit stomach turning." Waxer teases. "When you feel me let go of your shoulder, you can open up."

Cody thinks for a moment, before nodding. "Well, since its just a dream, I guess it wouldn't hurt." He sighs, shutting his eyes tight. "But hurry it up would ya Wax? I don't want to go through this all night." He feels a blast of cold air. "Hey whats going o-"

"Don't open them yet!" The other man warns, gripping Cody's shoulder tightly."I don't want to be responsible for your dry cleaning. This gig doesn't pay."

Cody mentally rolled his eyes. "You know Waxer.. Despite the.. situation.. Its been nice seeing you. I am sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed the support on Umbara.. It was hard, you know. The Jedi that betrayed his." He stopped, noticing a tightness in his chest. Must be a side effect of the travel. "Anyway.. I just wanted to say that and-"

"Its all in the past sir." Waxer voice said softly. "All in the past, just like we are!" he lets go of Cody's shoulder and steps aside as the other opened his eyes. "Here we are." He smiles, holding back a laugh as Cody's eyes lit up at the colors and sounds around him.

Troopers in Orange and white mingled with their brothers of the 501st in blue and white in the Mess hall of the ship. Lights were strung along the metal walls and a small tree with poorly wrapped gifts sat in the corner of the room. Laughter and smiles filled the air as the men had drinks and snacks and swapped stories of their most recent shenanigans. "It can't be.." Codys eyes shift, Waxer and Boil entertaining a batch of shinies by the dessert table. Echo and Fives and the other boys of the 501st crowding around Captain Rex... Rex... He's here. He's here and laughing and having a good time and standing next to.. me?

"AH! Cody! There you are!" A voice from behind the bewildered Commander called, and he spun around coming face to face with none other than Obi Wan Kenobi.

"G-General Kenobi you are here!" Cody says, stepping back. "How dare you! I-" He is cut off as Kenobi walks through him and over to the young Commander standing across the room. "Waxer! What just happened? He walked right through me! He didn't even see me. But he called for.." His eyes freeze on the Jedi and his former self laughing together across the room.

"These are just shadows of the past, Commander," Waxer said. "They have no consciousness of us two." He nods his head toward the gathering they were watching. "Come on. Lets go have a closer look."

The two men make there way other to listen in on the conversation.

"General You really shouldn't have gotten me anything." Cody said, chuckling. "It really isn't necessary, Sir. Working with you is a gift every day."

"Oh nonsense, Cody! It might not be necessary, but its well deserved. As they say, 'Tis the season of giving' you know." Obi Wan responded, leading his commander to the tree."Anyway, these may prove useful to you, judging by your last medbay visit with injured toes"

Cody's face flusters slightly as  the General pulls out a nice wrapped package from under the tree. "Sir really I-"

"Just open it!" Anakin says, coming up from behind the two, followed by Rex. "He dragged me all over Coruscant looking for the right pair."

Waxer turned to look at the older commander watching the memory in front of them."You two were always close. The best leaders a trooper could ask for." He said."We were all proud to serve under you and General Kenobi."

"Yes.." Cody said absentmindedly, engrossed in his younger self opening the box. "I-I remember this. This was when I got the-"

"Steel-Toed Combat boots!" Anankin said, thumping the Commander's back. "Double enforced AND insulated to protect you the next time you decide to kick a droid in the face!"

Cody looks up at Obi Wan. "Sir I-I don't know what to say.." He smiles, setting the box down and rubbing his hands together. "Well, since we are exchanging gifts, the boys and I pitched in to get you something as well." He takes a small box out from under the tree. "Here you go sir." A small smirk on his lips appears as some of the other men of the 212th gather around, eager to see Obi Wans reaction.

Obi Wan smiles. "Cody you shouldn't have! Its... A string bracelet?!" He says, confusion appearing briefly before he forces a smile. "I never would of expected!"

The Boys of the 212th roar with laughter. "Sir! Its not a bracelet!" Wooley exclaims. "Its a-"

"Its a handle for your lightsaber, General!" another trooper laughs. "All Commander Cody's idea!"

Obi Wan turns to Cody."Ah I see," he says stroking his beard. "Is this by chance related to that battle on Ryloth when you had to retrieve it for me, Commander?"

Cody laughs. "It could have been General.. Or maybe, that time on Cristophsis?.. Perhaps Teth? Who knows." The room is filled with laughter again, everyone chattering and grabbing gifts to exchange with one another.  Cody beams at the smiles on his mens faces. "Thank you for allowing us to do this, General." He says quietly.

"Allowing what? For the men to be happy? Always my dear friend." Obi Wan says, taking out his saber and slipping the band on. "A perfect fit!" He gives his arm a little spin. "I daresay this will come in handy. Thank you." He beams. "For everything Cody."

"Anytime sir."

The older Commander watches from afar, the knot in his chest growing tighter. His throat and eyes burning at the sting of emotion. "He was a good General." He said to Waxer. "A.. very good General and friend. It.. makes no sense, the betrayal." He stiffened immediately. "The lies. He betrayed me, us! If I could stop him right now I would." He spins around to face Waxer. "Get me out of here! Now! Before I do something we will regret."

Waxer looked sadly at his old friend. "Sir you cannot change the past. These are events that have already happened. You are watching, but you aren't looking. Please just take the time and-"

"I said take me back!"

"Yes.. Commander." Waxer reaches a hand out to Cody, placing it back on his shoulder as the latter closed his eyes. The cold rush of air returns, and Waxer speaks. "Cody, I just want you to know that no matter how bad things got, I was always proud to serve by your side, all of my brothers, and General Kenobi. You were both always there, making sure we were the best and had the best. You two were quite a pair. Look deep inside yourself.. Remember the good times.." he fell silent.

Cody, eyes shut still, let his mind wander to those days of the Clone Wars, and how hard they all had worked. To fight back the separatists. Countless battles won, men lost.. And the Jedi, alongside them. The Jedi were their allies.. their friends. Until they betrayed them They were the reason for the war. It was their fault, The Jedi. Kenobi. It was his fault. He left Cody behind, without an explanation. What was he supposed to think?

"Waxer I know this will be hard to here but-" He opens his eyes, finding himself in his bed in the dark. "Waxer?" he reaches up, turning on the lights, eyes scanning the empty room. "I-it was a dream then?" he said, a small lump in his throat. He put a hand to his shoulder a moment, mimicking the pressure of the formers hand. "Just a dream." he repeats, looking over at the chrono."2:32. Great." Cody runs a hand through his thinning hair. "Better try and get some more sleep." he mumbles, laying his head on his pillow, slowly drifting off to sleep once more.

[jtrbluv]

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc 

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.  

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

-

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

-

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

-

-

MASTERLIST

[dark-nat-ones-blessing]

At long last, I’m finally able to post the Tarokka portraits I painted for my Curse of Strahd party! I’ve been sitting on these since January, waiting to reveal them...and it’s finally time.

More about the party, and the cards, under the cut.

Clay Mildflower, Halfling Ranger

“A deceptive card. You look on him, and you think - gods, what a fearsome face, hmm? But he is just a spirit of the past, child - and such spirits seek you now. He cannot help that he is not a pretty thing.”

The party’s cinnamon roll, too good for Barovia, too pure. Eager to learn, eager to listen, and willing to believe the possibility of good in anyone - even zombies and extraplanar aliens. Despite being the adoptive son of a dwarven scholar with all the thirst for knowledge and bookishness such a life fostered in him, Clay is drawn inexorably to the wilderness and the nature his father found him among.

But under that sweet, soft exterior lies a surprising amount of resolve. Of all the party, he’s been the least cowed by Barovia’s horrors. And the least squeamish! Curiosity and need to understand overrides any ick factor, so if the party need someone to examine a body, Clay’s the halfling for the job.

(He's also been picking up pets at a rate of knots: since his arrival in the party, they have gained two dogs and two birds.)

-

Arturo, Firbolg Paladin - @lucy-whitechicken

“Ah, the Mists. This card speaks of struggle. Of seeking in the gloam, of battling storms of the spirit. Truer here than ever, lost lover, you will be tested. Do not lose heart. Hold fast to that light of yours.”

It would be extremely reasonable to mistake Arturo for a bard if you were to sight him out of his gleaming coppery armour - he lives a life of song and poetry, roaming without any particular aim or direction to spread the joy of nature through lilting word and music. Before being spirited away to Barovia it would not be unusual to find him in a tavern, chatting away, telling tales of joy and wonder, or hitching rides with travelling bands.

Arturo's taken on the role of protector figure within the party, and fast became attached to the small and nature-loving halfling Clay. He'll not stand for injustice or needless harm, and the all-pervading unnatural aura of Barovia has left them unsettled in the extreme. To realise not a soul in this land has ever seen a blue sky overhead...that is true horror.

-

Maerilyth Ondorren-Vandiir, Wood Elf Rogue - @1nchwyrm

“You are no raven, girl. But I see the intent in the reading. Little magpie, this card speaks of potential. You fly alone, you are bad luck no matter how much shine you line your nest with. Is that not the saying? One for sorrow. Ravens know better.”

Some young nobles grow into their roles and responsibility admirably. Maerilyth Ondoren-Vandiir, unfortunately, is not those young nobles. No, she's had a hundred years of living large, enjoying the seemingly-endless well of the family coffers and all the luxuries that gold can buy. Until her parents decided enough was enough, that is. No more raging parties. No more making eyes at her new favourite stable-hand through the window and ignoring all that her tutors so desperately tried to teach her. And definitely no more using the family gold on ear extensions, or anything else for that matter.

Alas, all that resulted was a very proficient teen shoplifter.

The brightest and most responsible member of the party Maerilyth may not be, but she’s light on her feet, has a knack for unorthodox problem-solving and is no stranger to the power of a confidently delivered lie. And perhaps Barovia will be the education in consequences that her parents failed to instill...

-

The Cards

Upon awakening in Barovia, each of the party discovered a card wrapped in black silk on their person: The Ghost, The Mists, and the Raven. There was all kinds of speculation on their meaning, but only last session have they had the chance to have the cards interpreted by someone familiar with the symbology of the Tarokka - the mysterious Madam Eva herself, who seemed...less than impressed by the rudeness of whatever foolish person performed this secret reading.

Who is responsible for that, the party is yet to uncover.

It’s been absolutely killer sitting on these drawings since January, unable to post them anywhere!! When I finished them, I was sure I’d only be a couple of sessions before I could reveal them....but then some life things happened and there was an unexpected hiatus. I’m so, so glad to be back - and the amount of yelling that happened when I gave them the handouts made it so, so worth the wait. <3 I have the best players and best friends.

[irene-sadler]

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

aka “The Tournament”

n: this is by far the longest thing ive ever written, if u read the whole thing and liked it i appreciate u. (also if u read it and didn't like it, tbh.) thats all folks see u next time <3

     By morning, she had the answer; she leaned on the fence next to the empty lists, contemplating precisely how to bring her scheme about and studying the clouds overhead as they blew in on a damp, western breeze.

    “Do you think it’ll rain, later?” Gascon asked her, coming up from behind; she returned her thoughts to the present and said, “Isbel says it ought to. So, are you ready for your fight?”

    “Is anyone, truly, ready to fight Reynard?” he asked dolefully; the man in question glanced their way from across the green, briefly locked eyes with Meve, smiled slightly, and then returned to carefully directing his squire. She smiled back, somewhat dotingly. Gascon glanced at her and rolled his eyes skyward.

    “At least Ethan’s getting on well with him,” he said. “Much alike, those two.”    

    Meve shrugged noncommittally.

    “Anyway,” he said, “Who are you supporting? Sir Reynard or the black knight?”

    “Firstly,” she said, turning a sarcastic glare his way, “I’m not fighting, so there is truly no black knight to support. Secondly, I am a neutral party in this and any contest between my loyal subjects.”

    Gascon considered a moment, then, suspiciously, asked, “So am I expected t’ believe you and Reynard don’t have one of your little wagers on my head, then?”

    “Oh,” she said, realizing in mild surprise that they hadn’t even approached the subject, the night before, when they ran out of important things to talk about; she’d been too busy explaining the play she’d seen in the city’s streets to think of it. “No. No, we don’t.”

    He appeared mildly skeptical.

    “I still owe him on our last one, anyway,” she said; Gascon showed no sign of believing her.  “Not to worry, Gascon; I’m sure you’ll do as well as anyone else, which is -”

    “Badly,” Gascon finished for her. “All things bein’ equal. I don’t know why I agreed t’ this; I wasn’t even drunk at the time, for once.”

    She regarded him, contemplatively, and then asked, “Do you remember when I knocked you off your horse, last month?”

    “How could I forget, since you and Reynard insist on bringing it up every few hours?”

    “Look, Reynard is - I love him very much, but I have to say he doesn’t have a drop of guile in his blood, truly. It would never cross his mind to pull a trick like that in a fight, or, for that matter, at any other time. Nor would he expect someone else to do so.”

    Gascon stared at her.

    “Good luck,” she said to him, turning back to the lists, as Reynard signaled his readiness from the other end of the barricade; Gascon sighed, mumbled, ungratefully, that nobody who said good luck ever actually meant it, and wandered reluctantly toward his horse. Meve leaned against the fence and waited.

    She would never openly admit to not really watching the first, desultory pass the combatants made, but the predictable maneuvers on display bored her, and her thoughts drifted toward the day’s upcoming legislative business. However, as Gascon discarded his lance before the second attempt, she frowned, refocusing on the field. Reynard paused for a moment, evidently perturbed by the Duke’s unexpected behavior; Gascon, meanwhile, quickly booted his horse to a gallop and covered behind his shield. Reynard’s charger had barely achieved a trot when the Duke came barreling down the barricade and met with him. To his credit, the Count was as prepared as decades of experience could make him - lance couched, shield ready - but Gascon turned the point of the weapon aside with his own shield, grabbed the pole near the middle with his free hand, and yanked himself and Reynard off their horses and onto the ground at the same time. The lance struck the barricade in between them with an echoing bang and cracked in half.

    Meve grinned, hopped the fence, and strolled down to where Reynard had fallen; he sat up, raised his visor, and glared at the splinters of his lance. Gascon heaved himself to his feet and popped his helm off. Reynard’s sour gaze traveled up to his face. He shrugged innocently.

    “Tricks,” he said, winking at Meve; she fought down the urge to laugh at Reynard’s expression.

    “It wasn’t cheating, my love,” she said, heaving him to his feet. “It was - creativity.”

    “Oh, no, it was definitely cheating,” Gascon said, to the knight’s cross, remote frown, “You win, Sir Reynard. Congratulations on yet another victory. Carry on with - with whatever it was you had planned for after my defeat.”

    The Count sighed, yanked his own helmet off, and mastered his obvious annoyance.

    “I was going to say that it’s time the black knight retired.”

    “Oh. Yes, well, you may be right,” Gascon said, easily. “I believe he’s served his purpose, anyhow. In any case, I think I’ve had all the jousting I can stand for quite some time; all these falls can’t be good for my back.”

    “Both black knights,” Reynard said, looking toward Meve pointedly; she stared back with casual arrogance and asked, “Oh? Are you sure that’s what you wish?”

    “I’m quite sure, thank you.”

    “It’s just that, really, you’ve yet to defeat the true black knight; an unfinished rivalry is something of a shadow over your record, I’d think.”

    He shook his head at her. She let him wait in suspense for a few seconds, then smiled at his strained frown and said, “Oh, fine; I’ll let it go if you will.”

    “Good,” Reynard said, stiffly, relaxing slightly at last.

    “I don’t really like jousting, anyway,” she added, unable to resist a last teasing dig; his resolute sternness finally broke down and he rolled his eyes at her. She grinned brightly at him.

    “Thank the gods for that,” Gascon said, “Else we’d have no peace at all. Anyhow, now this is over and done, I suppose I ought to go home. Although, first, there’s still the matter of Holt and Gaheris, which some of my men are tied up in; I’d like them back, if you don’t mind.”

    “Oh, right,” Meve said, as if she’d forgotten. “Yes. Send Gaheris to the throne room this afternoon; I’ve various matters to bring before the court, and he may as well be one of them. Sir Holt’s of no consequence; you may let him do as he will. Feel free to leave whenever you like.”

    “Well - maybe I’ll go tomorrow,” Gascon said. “It does look like it’ll rain, this afternoon.”

      Gaheris presented himself as commanded, appearing absolutely unsure whether or not he was attending his own execution. The Queen took no notice of his existence, until the end of an unusually short session with her court, she finally turned her distant stare to him, giving no obvious sign as to why she’d summoned him.

    “One last thing,” she said, cooly. “This fellow is Gaheris, the son of Gors, a stonemason; he is a dependable and competent man.”

    The court studied him, briefly, some dubiously, others with approval - one Baroness in particular nodded, pleased - as the Queen continued, in the same tone, “Because of this, it pleases the crown to attach him to our service, should he pledge his fealty to us.”

    Gaheris blinked, stupidly; Count Odo, standing slightly behind and to the right of the Queen, nodded once, sharply, at him. The man started a little and regained something of his usual confidence.

    “I - yes, my Queen,” he said. “I swear it.”

    “Kneel, then,” she said; the Count handed her a sword, and she tapped on one, then the other of his shoulders, and declared him Sir Gaheris of the Fen.

      “If I’m any great judge,” Reynard said later that day, referring to the new knight, “You won’t find a more loyal soldier than him.”

    “Except for you,” Meve said, blithely.

    “And, I do believe that settles all th’ affairs remaining from Gascon’s tournament,” he added quickly, turning slightly embarrassed. “At long last. I hope he never has another.”

    They were sitting together on the floor of one of her private rooms in front of the sole window. He watched rain drip down the outsides of the thick panes of glass; Meve, not particularly interested in the view outside, lounged across his lap.

    “Well, almost all,” she said, significantly. He looked down at her, warily.

    “Oh?”

    “There’s just one more thing,” she remarked, idly brushing her fingers along his jawline. “I believe I promised a prize, should you win my jousts, and I don’t easily forget my debts, as you know.”

    “Ah. So you did,” he said, and returned to staring out the window as he considered. She sat up and waited, almost patiently.

    “I can’t think of anything,” he finally said, looking back at her; her heart lurched as a gentle smile crossed his face, but she maintained a sardonic tone.

    “Really? There’s nothing at all that you’d want from the Queen of Lyria and Rivia?”

    “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, seriously. “You see, I already have all I could ever ask you for.”

     She nodded, satisfied, and kissed him; he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close; there really was nothing left to say, even if either of them had any interest in talking. Gascon strolled in through the door behind them, stopped short, and noiselessly backed out again, unnoticed. Afterward, they had, for once, no interruptions.

[dalleyan]

Storms/Silver Lining  (Ch 2 of new LoTR story posted, 10-7-20)

A summer storm triggers unexpected consequences for Eomer.  [Complete in total of 4 chapters (0-3).]

This story began as a short one-shot (Storms), but then I ended up writing ‘more’.  So, the three chapters of Silver Lining continue the story begun in Storms.

 Silver Lining

Chapter 2    (Edoras, Spring, 3020 III)

Eomer finished pulling on his gloves, but then paused, staring across Firefoot’s back toward the mountains and lost in thought.  After several moments, the gray stallion gave a snort and shifted restlessly, wondering at the delay.

“Eomer?  Is something the matter?” Eothain queried from his right.

Drawing in a lungful of air, the king brought his attention back to his surroundings, and turned to look at his friend.  For a moment he considered giving a truthful answer, but this was neither the time nor place to discuss such things, so he merely shook his head. “No.  Let us be going.”  With that, he gathered the reins and stepped up into the saddle.

Eothain eyed him closely for an instant, but then moved away to mount as well, and the party was quickly on their way down the hill.

Eomer’s sister was bubbling over with eagerness, and he could not restrain a chuckle as she repeatedly rode on ahead, and then had to circle back to rejoin the wedding party.  By mid-afternoon, he could not resist observing, “Eowyn, we will arrive no earlier for your agitation.  We travel at good speed, and Faramir will be your husband soon enough!  Be at peace!”

She scowled at him, and then grinned sheepishly.  “I know you speak truly, Eomer, but it is difficult.  When you are in love, you will understand why I cannot contain my desire to be with him.  And we have been parted for so many months.”

He smiled indulgently at her, not commenting that he understood better than she realized.  A hard gallop to Mundburg would suit him just fine.  It would mean he would see Lothiriel again all the sooner.  But, unfortunately, decorum had to be maintained. He was king now, and such impulsiveness was…undesirable.  Even though it was difficult to do, he quickened the pace slightly of their party. Evidently Eowyn had noticed for she cast him a grateful smile.

They camped outside the Rammas Echor their final night before arriving at the City.  Eowyn had paced the perimeter of the camp for well over an hour before turning in, much to her brother’s amusement.  Normally, he would have ridden on for so short a distance, but it was necessary to arrive with a certain formality and dignity that creeping in at dusk did not afford.

Trying to ignore his sister’s frustration, Eomer stayed to his tent, meeting with Eothain to deal with various matters.  Their business concluded, Eothain was just preparing to rise when Eomer leaned back in his chair and stared off to his right.  “You are acquainted with the Lady Lothiriel, Imrahil’s daughter, are you not, Eothain?” he asked casually.

Eothain bit back a grin, concealing it just before Eomer glanced at him. He shrugged, then answered, as he settled back into his seat, “I have been introduced to her, little else.”  He could have said more than that, but thought it best to wait and see where this conversation was going.

“And what do you think of her?” Eomer pressed, still not meeting his eyes, an oddity in and of itself.

Taking a slight breath, Eothain carefully responded, “She is a beautiful woman, to be sure.”

Eomer’s brow wrinkled.  “Of course, that cannot be argued, but I meant something more substantial than appearance,” he answered, somewhat impatiently.

Eothain grinned again.  “Ah. Still, what man, including you, does not enjoy spending time with a beautiful woman?”  Then the marshal added more seriously, “She seems pleasant enough. But I know her too little to comment beyond that.”  He stopped, thinking for a moment.  “She is…all that I might expect in the daughter of a Prince, I suppose,” Eothain observed, giving another shrug.

“Yes, all that might be expected of a Prince’s daughter…” Eomer repeated musingly.  “But would she make a good queen, a good queen for Rohan?”  Finally Eomer did look up and meet his gaze, though the king’s expression was guarded as he awaited a response.

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