#also anyone who talks shade about his glasses can suffer

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Source: Khaotung’s IG

29/072024

[graham-needs-a-nap]

I have like 3 followers and this post is not for any of them. General spoilers for Deus Ex: Human Revolution and Mankind Divided (and I guess original DX)

I think Adam Jensen is a deeply tragic figure. Obviously the game sort of states this, and you can pick some dialogue options that indicate he's not happy with what happened to him, but he doesn't seem REALLY bothered by it, and it all falls kind of flat when he has cool robot arms and cyber eyes and mirrorshades, right? But I see some details that really throw a few things into relief for me.

Most obviously, he was heavily modified into a tactical suppression cyborg against his will - admittedly to save his life, but going above and beyond the necessary, and in such a way as to make him company property. Their logo is literally visibly stamped into his skull. On paper, this is sure to mess anyone up. There are details that can be found in his apartments in the two games, like that he keeps getting upset and breaking mirrors, and that he's taken up watchmaking as a hobby. I really like the watchmaking because he, you know, needs some way to practice his dexterity with his new robot hands, and also I think it shows a newfound interest in the internals and perhaps the function and purpose of machines, which he now largely is.

I think the sunglasses tell quite a lot of a story, mostly in the times where they're absent. The first time we see Jensen after the prologue is him walking into the Serif offices for his first day back on the job and he snaps the shades on as soon as he gets in the door. I think we don't see them open again until he finds Megan in the late game, because this is someone he knows and loves, that he's spent the whole game searching for. He can be open with her. But as soon as it dawns on him that she's here willingly, working for these people who wrecked his life? Letting him think she's been dead this whole time? He backs away and the shades come back on. Shields up, baby. I don't have comprehensive notes on his behavior in the second game, but the only time I can recall that we see his eyes is when he's talking to Eliza Cassan, the AI news anchor who was used to lure him into a trap in the last game, who on the surface he has no reason to trust. Until you consider that they're both entities poised between humanity and an artificial existence, used as tools of far more powerful forces and struggling to define who they are going forward. That's who he can identify with, far more than anyone else he meets.

On a personal note, the shades thing is behavior I recognize! In me! I wear sunglasses almost any time I'm outside, even on cloudy days, because I have really sensitive eyes. but I have also suffered from social anxiety and especially had issues with eye contact in the past, and shades are a convenient way to avoid that, especially if I'm also upset about something. I have this not entirely rational belief that people can see all my feelings in my eyes and the glasses are a shield for that.

We don't see much of what Jensen is like before the attack, except that he (clearly sarcastically) claims to Megan that he's extremely friendly and likes everyone he meets. What's clear is that Jensen NOW is extremely uncomfortable in all social situations. Everyone's animations in these games are weirdly jerky and way too fidgety, but with Jensen, the fact that you can't see where his eyes are tracking gives the impression he is actively looking for a way out of this conversation right the hell now, and would rather look anywhere than directly at the person he's talking to. (Is this intentional? Almost certainly not. It's a consequence of the generally weird talking animations for NPCs. But if we aren't going to look for unintended interpretations in our media then what are we even doing here?) Someone may be able to make a case for this being neurodivergent coding, but I'm not an expert on such things and I don't feel comfortable making that claim, but I would say severe social anxiety at bare minimum.

I think even his voice is fascinating in this regard, and Elias Toufexis deserves a ton of credit for this that I suspect he rarely gets. It's gruff but also soft. He almost never raises it, and generally gives the impression that he'd rather not be bothering anyone or being noticed at all. Again, you and me both, buddy.

And the cap on all this is not just the physical changes but the way his entire role in society, the way he interacts with the world, has changed. He has, apparently, next to no personal life. He's a corporate security officer in the first game and a counterterrorism agent in the second. The only things he is now allowed to be good at are infiltration, investigation, assassination, all on the orders of corporate or governmental powers (as if they aren't the same thing by this point), with the added layer that the true masters of his fate are between one and three simultaneous global conspiracy groups who are mostly interested in him as a clone template for the main character of the original game. He's a super badass cyborg spy who desperately wants to be anything but. It's incredibly sad!

Side note: there are a lot of theories, based on stuff you can find in the VersaLife vaults in Mankind Divided and the weird handwaved plot points about the new augs he suddenly has, that the Jensen in that game is ALREADY a clone, with the body of Human Revolution Jensen kept in cryostorage with its augs stripped out to be given to Clone!Jensen. I find this to be pretty solid speculation, but this is not confirmed and Jensen has no in-game way to learn or react to this. I haven't fully fit it into my take just yet, except that finding out you're a clone would probably fuck anyone up, though for Adam maybe it would be just another day at the conspiracy factory.

The ending of the last DLC for Mankind Divided strongly implies that Jensen has finally caught wise to at least a part of the invisible conspiracy he's enmeshed in, and I hope is preparing to take some action against it. Given that, you know, the original Deus Ex still has to happen, I can't see it going particularly well for him. Adam is quite likely doomed. But maybe he can bloody Bob Page's nose a bit before he goes out. I can't help rooting for this poor socially anxious cyborg and I fervently hope we get a resolution to his story eventually.

[queen-of-midnights]

Dreamer of Light

Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k

Chapter 3

"Unwelcomed visitors"

She smiled widely when she saw us, looking overjoyed and yet, I felt absolutely sick to my stomach, as I grieved and mourned for her to this very day, and here she was, alive and yet the phantom of death loomed over her and that told me what I needed to know. The old Feyre was dead. There was no doubt about it. She seemed healthier and happier. And I was glad, but a part of me was also saddened.

Elain gasped beside me and jumped into her arms, leaving out a laugh, while Nesta and I simply stared in shock and disbelief. After a couple of seconds that seemed to be hours, she turned towards us, looking at me with wide eyes, regret and worry taking over her features. After all, I looked miserable, still had my curves but my skin was incredibly pale, embellished with scratches from the night she died, with dark circles and looking sickly. Frail. Weak. But I was also angry. And incredibly hurt, that she was hurt, died and that she moved on. From us. From me.

She raised me more than anyone else, took care of me, fed, clothed and sang. And then left. Tears stung my eyes as we looked at each other, she tried to call out to me. "Sienna-". But I've already left.

.

.

"Sienna, open up." Nesta's authoritative voice left no room for questions as I opened the door. She had one of fathers rarer wines and two glasses in hand. I wordlessly motioned for her to come in as she continued speaking. "She brought three fae males with her. I believe that one of them had a feature you were looking for." I stopped in my tracks as I processed her words, closing the door before turning towards her. "Who?" I looked intently at her, raising a brow.

"The one with violet eyes." That's it. I knew he was important, for what? My mind started running around for something, anything. I haven’t sensed anything else besides Feyre in the house yet, but that's probably because I can't recognize him yet.

"His name is Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. Do you know him?" She looked at me curiously while filling both of our glasses.

"I do. He is something to her, but it's more than mere feelings. I can't quite put my finger on it." She rolled her eyes at that, sipping from the glass before confirming some of my suspicions." Please. He looks at her as if she hung up all the stars in the sky. It's ridiculous."

"If he makes her happy then it's none of my concern." I shrugged my shoulders before drinking out of my own glass. She hummed in agreement. We both sighed as we continued drinking and chatting over more mundane, simple matters, such as Elain's engagement with Grayson. She has always been beaming when talking about him and we both shared small smiles at our sister's newfound happiness.

A couple of hours later, Elain enters our room quietly and, reddened all over the face, I understood immediately what she meant, as the staff was on mysterious leave once again, there was no one to cook. And so I covered Nesta up with a blanket as she drifted off, and went on straight to the kitchen. My sister took a seat at the counter and watched me cook, while talking about the most trivial subjects she could find, I knew this was her way of beating around the bush, so I decided to lessen her suffering. "You're agitated, Elain, what plagues your mind?" She huffed and pouted.

"How come you always know?" She rested her head on her hand and gave me a questioning look, she seemed confused.

"You're an expressive person, Elain, and I can also feel it." I smiled lightly at her while she beamed back at me.

"Well, it is true, you have one hell of an instinct." I was shaken by Feyre's interruption, I didn't even hear her come in, she smiled lightly as three other males, her supposed companions, rounded up behind her. One was more classically beautiful, but carried on thousands of burdens, as he feels cold, but not winter cold, more as if you were under a shade at night, hm, shade, shadows. The other was more cocky and smiled smugly besides them, and yet held some sort of edge, he'll never forget the things he has done. Both had beautiful sets of wings, bat-like. And their eyes were those of ambers in the sunlight. I knew them.. And then, the violet eyes that I have been waiting to meet, standing tall and proud, not letting anyone see any kind of imperfection as his cool black exterior which left nothing to doubt.

But I only nodded towards them before turning back to my own devices, only replying the harshest I could to Feyre." Killer instinct, huh? When did you discover that, Feyre?" She had only discovered I was right before she died, of course and yet, I could not say it yet, that she died. It would make this whole thing real.

"You wish to hear that you are right? Because yes, I died, but I still came back. Can you not handle it?" Her voice started rising, as she took a couple of steps towards me. I never said it after that night. Nesta never did. Elain never knew as we never said a word, she now gasped loudly. "Sienna, why did you never say anything?" She also took some steps towards me as I turned back to the pot, stirring everything in it as I tried to breathe, although I felt as if they were walls, coming closer and closer, sucking the air of the room, and my height didn't help. I can't breathe.

"Why would you hold something so important from me?" Elain said with her heartbroken voice as she took another step, and then another. So did Feyre. They were closing in more. "Why did you, sister?" she added.

"Stop it, Feyre." Now tears stung in my eyes as I did not stir anything anymore, only gripping the wooden spoon as a way of steadying myself.

"Why would I? When you dreamt of it. Of it all? Amarantha. Tamlin. Rhys. What happened in your dreams I wonder?" Then I saw it with my eyes, memories, which were not my own but hers. The blood woman, death, ashwood daggers. Guilt. Pain. Suffering. "Stop. It."

"Have you seen this before and never told me a thing?" She seethed, anger rolling up on her as she dumped all of her memories and feelings in my head. It was hurting more and more as black claws shredded anything in their path, without knowing that I began screaming and felt something drop on my hand, burning.

I have no idea how much time went on a second or an hour as, when I did come back, I was kneeling on the floor in Nesta's arms, who was screaming at everyone as she applied some sort of ointment on my hand, which was burning intensely and yet, I had no more energy to express my pain as I watched Elain sobbing, one of the fae males rested a hand on her shoulder in support, the other one missing, The High Lord also had his hand on my other sister's shoulder, gripping it lightly yet steady, holding a weary expression. But not towards us, while she looked at me in shock, as if she didn't believe what she had done.

In the time I had to make sense of my surroundings Nesta was finished wrapping my arm as she helped me stand. I only sighed. I was tired. "Wait in the dining room. I'll fix something up." There was left no room for arguing as everyone left, the one with the shadows, looking back, a perfect mask of nothingness. And yet eyes can tell. They always can.

"I'm not letting them near you ever again." She was fuming as she stood by my side, leading me to the counter. "I know." I hugged her, needing it or I think I'm going to break. "The things she went through, Nes. The pain is indescribable." I began sobbing as I heard the door from the dining room close and Nesta held me tighter.

"And it is hers to bear. Not yours. You aren't responsible for any of it. You tried to warn her, and she still went. Do not feel bad anymore, you already bear the scars from it. It's not your fault." I only cried harder at that.

.

.

One hour later, dinner was once again ready, as Nesta and Elain helped with carrying everything as I wasn't able to. I was lucky that the burn wasn't too bad yet it still has a chance to scar.

As we finally entered the room the atmosphere was still tense and after we sat down, the only thing Feyre could do was stare at my arm. One of the males cleared his throat and spoke. "Thank you for making us dinner. And receiving us despite the fact that we barged in." The bigger one of the two wind ones smiled warmly while giving his thanks.

"You're welcome. It's not much, but I hope it tastes fine." I smiled back. He felt as warm as the sun on a breezy summer day.

"It does." And they began eating, the winged males eating everything on their plates as if it were their last meal and, as the cook of this dinner, it was one of the biggest compliments I could get. While The High Lord ate, Feyre could only stare at the plate. "Eat what you like, Feyre, there are more sortiments. I also made your favorite." She smiled sadly at me while nodding "Thank you." And then, The High Lord intervened. "It's just that our food is different from that in the mortal lands. You'll see it when you come to Velaris." Nesta looked as if she were about to jump over the table and strangle Rhysand to death. And to add to the pressure, unintentionally, of course, Feyre started to tell us about Hybern and their plan of attack, and revealed their plan with The Mortal Queens and made the courageous request to host the meeting with them here.

"Find somewhere else." Nesta sounded cold and dismissive. "Find another place. I will not tolerate any Fae in this house. Not around Sienna and Elain. If anyone finds out, we can forget everything. Our status, our possessions, Elain's wedding-"

"Elain's wedding?" echoed Feyre, her eyes widening.

"She is to marry the son of a lord. His father has devoted himself to hunting fae-of your kind."

"Nesta. Feyre has done nothing but give for years, provided for us. It's time for us to give something back. We can help." Elain put a hand on Nesta's knee.

"It's not up for debate." Nesta replied firmly. She then turned to look at me, most probably to see if we agreed, but I could only sigh.

One of the winged men, the warm male eyed Nesta up and down and when she noticed his gaze she hissed, "What is there to see?"

"A person who watched her youngest sister go into the forest every day while she herself did nothing. A person who put a fourteen-year-old girl in danger. Your-" He shivered, as if he was containing his anger.

"Your sister died- she died to save my kind. She would die for You, to keep You from living through a war. So don't think I'm going to sit here and listen quietly to you despise her for something that was never in her hands- and insult my people to boot!"

"That's enough." I said, not raising my voice, but taking on a more firm tone. "No one is trying to make a triviality out of some else's hardships. The past shall stay where it is as it cannot be changed, blame us for it if you must, however you can not expect us to take this lightly. Up until today we thought your kind to be cold-blooded murderers that would harm humans just for sport. Your request for us to accommodate in a couple of hours is simply ridiculous. " My gaze hardened as I shot the male a cold look. Everyone at the table looked stunned, besides Nesta, and The High Lord cleared his throat awkwardly before replying.

"You are right. I owe you my apologies." His expression was one of understanding, I hummed in response as the fiery male from earlier seemed unhappy.

"You can't be serious." He scoffed, fueled once again with a rage I only saw in my sister.

"I am." His tone left no room for arguing. "However, we really need your home for this. If there were another option, we would have taken it." I nodded in understanding.

"Maybe we can make room." Elain tried to intervene but Nesta immediately shut her down.

"Elain." Her tone was cold and sharp.

"I believe we can." I hummed while closing my eyes, and yet I could still feel her gaze cutting through. "How about this? At the smallest sign of danger from you, leave the Mortal Lands and never come back. Does that reassure you more Nesta?" She only nodded, finally giving in. The High Lord also sighed in relief.

"Good. Let's continue dinner, then. The food must be getting cold." Everyond complied.

Suddenly, I felt something dripping from my face as I touched it, only to find blood on my hands, with no sign to stop. Nesta gasped as she ran around the table to me, cleaned my face and took me from the dining room before anyone could comment, asking Elain to clean up the dinner.

.

.

"Is it still going on?" Nesta asked while she changed another set of bloody cloth, one hour after that disaster of a dinner. I hummed as she looked rather agitated besides me, while I was starting to feel lightheaded. "Do you feel anything?"

"Magic. Lots of it. The smell was unbearable yet it called out. To me. And not to mention, you know I get nosebleeds when stressed out." She nodded and yawned. "Go to sleep, Nes, I'll wake you up if it gets worse." She seemed to get the approval she needed when she nodded off, completely exhausted from today's events for sure. But I, for one, was incredibly thirsty as I got up and tried to make my way to the kitchen, tried being the key word, as my vision was hazed and I had to hold myself up with the walls' support. But, on the positive side, my bleeding seemed to stop.

The kitchen was a mess as I entered, all of the plates left dirty, I took them and started cleaning everything. I was so concentrated on my task that I didn't hear the male come in until he spoke.

"I wish to apologize for earlier." Violet-eyed High Lord. Hm, interesting.

"There is nothing to apologise for, everyone simply lost their footing for a while. I still consider the dinner a success though. We were lucky no one was killed." He chuckled at that. But I had a question that seemed to plague my mind. "Will you care for her?" He looked at me for a while with an indescribable gaze, deep and thoughtful. "Will you protect her?"

"With my life." I nodded and turned back to my devices. "We are in agreement, then, High Lord."

"Please, call me Rhys. And I had some questions for you, actually." He made a pause which I assume was a way to ask for my approval, I only hummed in response. That seemed to be enough. "Feyre told me about your dreams. About how you dreamt of us?"

"I did, and still do. The bane of my existence, that is." I finished and joined him at the counter, taking a seat across from him. "And why is that?"

"Well, when it's great, everything's well, but the nightmares are.. not so great." He only nodded, encouraging me to continue." I dreamt of the one you call Amarantha. Of her torturing you, Feyre and and a girl, one of our neighbors, Claire. And of Tamlin, that golden beast. That he closed Feyre in his shattering castle. There was also the worst of them, one of many that was proven to be true, I dreamt of Feyre's death three months after she left." That seemed to leave him speechless as he stared at me in shock. "It was horrible." My voice broke as I tried not to burst into tears. He put a hand on my shoulder in support.

"I can only imagine. But know that no matter what, she still holds all of you close to her heart. Especially you." I chuckled weakly at that .

"I thought for a second that I lost my place as the favorite if I'm being honest." He gave me a serious look while replying." Never. The first time I met her, the first thing on her mind was seeing you, checking up on you."

"I see. It's late to say this, but it's nice to meet you, Rhys." I smiled, him returning it with the same brotherly comfort I felt in my dreams.

"You too, Sienna."

"Now, let's go see about that letter to the Mortal Queens, hm?" He nodded while I led him to the library.

There Feyre and the other males waited, and when she saw us entering, she smiled wildly, seeming content before she tried to make her way towards me, but was blocked by the two males that made their way upfront to present themselves.

"I am sorry for earlier, things had gotten out of hand. I'm Cassian." I nodded while mustering a blinding smile. "It's nice to meet you Cassian, I am Sienna, even though I am sure you already knew that."

"I'm Azriel." I nodded in greeting as the stiff male tried to seem friendly, quite the sight.

"Good, now that the introductions were made, despite their tardiness, we can start."

And that was what we did until the early hours of the morning, as I fell asleep on one of the chairs, but woke up in my room late in that

afternoon.

[pesewla]

Thank you for the request, @bout-to-snap <3 

“This is why I don’t trust him!” Mu Qing fumed. “He’s literally the Lord of the Ghost Realm, Your Highness…”

Xie Lian allowed a small, relaxed smile to grace his lips. He was mediating a fight between Mu Qing, Feng Xin, and Hua Cheng for what seemed like the thousandth time. Though newly renovated, Puqi Shrine was still too small for these massive quarrels, and Xie Lian dreaded the property damage that would ensue if their swords were drawn.

Given all that had happened – the destruction of the heavens and defeat of Jun Wu – why were these three still at each other’s throats?

“I thought we were past this,” Xie Lian sighed. “We don’t get to see each other all the time, so can we please not fight?”

“Exactly, we don’t see get to see each other all the time, so can’t we talk to you in private?” Feng Xin said, fidgeting a little.

Xie Lian looked confused. “About what?”

“You expect me to walk away when you’ve just called me the scum of the earth?” Hua Cheng said coolly, examining his nails. “Gege, these servants are no good.”

“We’re not his servants!” Mu Qing exclaimed. Xie Lian thought it sounded like he was about to say “anymore” at the end, but cut off his speech abruptly, making the outburst awkward and clunky.

“Are you sure?” Hua Cheng asked skeptically. “Because when you’re with him, it’s like 800 years never happened, you can be his ever-most-loyal-servants again. The roleplaying is disgusting, and doesn’t absolve you from guilt.”

Xie Lian sensed the atmosphere in the shrine shift. He stepped forward again and raised his hands placatingly. “San Lang – “

“And what would you know?” Feng Xin demanded. “You can’t possibly understand what we’ve been through, at the time you were merely a mortal child.”

“I understand that you abandoned Dianxia when he was most vuln –“

“San Lang,” Xie Lian said. Hua Cheng’s lips instantly froze at the warning in Xie Lian’s tone; it was a lilt and a dangerous flavor that Xie Lian hardly used on anyone, and never on Hua Cheng.

“…”

“Why can’t they know, gege?” Hua Cheng asked softly. “Don’t you think they deserve to know? Frankly, their ignorance offends me.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing had fallen silent, too, their faces both a few shades lighter. The word abandon seemed to always have that effect on them. Then Feng Xin regained his voice. “Ignor – know what? Taizi Dianxia, just what…”

Xie Lian had folded his arms, his mouth drawn into a line. “It’s old history,” he sighed. “There’s no need to bring things like this up. Do not shame me.”

“Shame you? When that came to visit you, he dismissed your fears as insan –“

Hua Cheng’s voice cut off for a moment, and the temperature in Puqi Shrine seemed to drop. Because, at that moment, an expression entirely foreign to Xie Lian flitted across his face: rage. Neither Mu Qing nor Feng Xin had seen him make that expression since his third ascension, and it didn’t suit him well.

It was gone as soon as it arrived, and Xie Lian’s characteristically peaceful smile returned in its stead. However, the faces of his two ex-subordinates were already white as sheets. Hua Cheng stepped toward, placing a hand on Xie Lian’s shoulder as if to hold him up.

“Dianxia, are you mad… at us?” Feng Xin whispered.

Xie Lian looked at him strangely, as if he had asked a very bizarre question indeed. “No… Not you.”

Hua Cheng snorted, as if he was thinking, too bad. Xie Lian’s face was soft. “In any case, I’m quite tired, so I think I will retire for the night. Please make yourselves at home.”

“Wh – you can’t – after –“ Mu Qing sputtered.

Feng Xin’s eyes were round. “Dianxia, does that mean… That time with White No-Face, when we were on the run… Was it really…?”

Xie Lian had started towards his chambers, but after being addressed, his shoulders tightened infinitesimally. Then, he turned back to the trio, his face still serene. “Yes.”

As if he’d been punched in the gut, Feng Xin slouched over. Mu Qing looked baffled.

“I didn’t tell you this because I knew you’d blame yourself. Yet, in the end, the only one who sinned was me. So, please, do not inquire further into this matter.”

With a nod and another smile, Xie Lian vanished into the back room, anxious to escape the conversation.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing were bursting with indescribable emotion. Some small part of Feng Xin fumed at Xie Lian for leaving them without explaining, but the rest of him just wallowed in a torrent of guilt, doubt, and self-questioning.

If the Taizi Dianxia wouldn’t tell them the truth, who would? Xie Lian had been abandoned with only his parents, who were long dead, so who besides him even knew what happened? The only people must be Jun Wu himself, and –

“Don’t look at me,” Hua Cheng rolled his eyes, leaning lazily against a chair. “I’m not going behind gege’s back for some backstabbing servants.”

“You’re the one who said we deserve to know,” Mu Qing argued.

“So? It’s gege’s story to tell, and he said no, so no.”

“How do you even know?”

Hua Cheng shrugged. “I was just ghost fire at the time. I had to watch.”

The corners of his eyes tightened, and a murderous look crossed his face. Unlike Xie Lian, his malice wasn’t bottled away, but instead broadcast for all to see.

“Watch what?” Feng Xin cried in anguish. “Why must you torture us?”

Hua Cheng snickered. “If only you knew your own irony.”

With that, he straightened and glided in Xie Lian’s direction, back towards the sleeping chambers.

“We – we’ll be back tomorrow!” Feng Xin and Mu Qing shouted at his receding back. Hua Cheng shrugged again.

//

That night, Hua Cheng was holding Xie Lian in his arms, and casually said, “Gege, this is what you did with Lang Qianqiu, too.” It wasn’t an accusation – it was never an accusation, just a comment.

Xie Lian exhaled. “I know.”

Hua Cheng’s voice grew husky. “Isn’t it enough that you suffered alone then, why must you be alone now, too? Why must you save everyone secretly, then endure their collective ridicule?” Then, “Is keeping it a secret truly doing anyone good?”

Xie Lian was silent. “Maybe I don’t have a good reason,” he finally said. “I don’t like thinking about it, really. I’m weak.”

“…”

“Although, looking back on it, I can’t believe that cute little ghost fire was you,” Xie Lian laughed. “You’d barely popped up and you already had a little cult following, so adorable!”

Hua Cheng grinned, but it was pained, like he couldn’t remember that period of his existence without discomfort. He said nothing, but his grip around Xie Lian tightened, like he was afraid of letting go.

Xie Lian noticed, and, after a beat of silence, shut his eyes. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

//

Feng Xin and Mu Qing would not give up. Day after day, they visited Xie Lian, demanding answers, so after months of heckling, Xie Lian finally agreed to explain what had happened all those years ago. When Xie Lian, Hua Cheng, Feng Xin, and Mu Qing sat down in Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng started talking first, trying to alleviate Xie Lian’s burden.

“…He’d wailed and screamed and cried and begged for mercy, but the people, having deemed him a sinner, continued without hesitation. Of course, his sinfulness was merely an excuse to save their own skin…”

“…After one hundred fatal strikes, Dianxia laid on his own altar, disfigured beyond recognition. Nothing more than a pile of flesh.”

Feng Xin was not the type to cry. So, when his eyes grew wet and then started streaming, Xie Lian hurriedly waved off Hua Cheng’s stone-faced words.

“Feng Xin, this was hundreds of years ago,” Xie Lian assured him, patting his shoulder. “It’s not sad anymore. Also, I’ve endured worse since then.”

This aggravated Feng Xin even further, and he looked like he wanted to cry some more. “I just can’t… when I imagine it, I can’t help it…”

“Trust me, whatever you’re imagining, it was five million times worse in real time,” Hua Cheng muttered darkly. He stared at Xie Lian with an odd expression, before languidly pulling him into his embrace.

Feng Xin looked like he wanted to rebuke, but in the end, could not. Thus, he motioned for the story to continue.

Xie Lian skimmed over his recovery period, the reformation of his flesh, and Feng Xin’s departure, but before he was in the clear, he was interrupted.

“So that’s why you asked me to leave?” Feng Xin said incredulously.

“There was no need to pull you down with me,” Xie Lian murmured.

“I thought you’d gone insane,” Feng Xin mumbled, nauseated. “I told your mother and father… I left you…”

Describing what happened to his parents was even harder, and when he finally got to saying how he’d put his own head in the noose, eyes filling with blood and collarbone cracking, Mu Qing jumped up.

“DAMN IT,” he roared, picking up a glass and shattering it against the nearest wall. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, Dianxia! What the actual fuck?”

Xie Lian peered at him. “Please don’t break San Lang’s things,” he tried.

“WHAT DO I FUCKING CARE? FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, TAIZI DIANXIA, HOW COULD YOU KEEP SOMETHING LIKE THIS FROM US?” Mu Qing was panting, and Feng Xin was staring off into space, eyes empty. “WE COULD’VE HELPED! IF I’D HAVE KNOWN, I’D HAVE –“

“Come back?” Xie Lian questioned lightly. “Followed me until the end?”

There was a deafening silence.

“No… I wanted you both to break free,” Xie Lian said. “You had a future.”

“SO DID YOU!” Feng Xin cried, broken from his trance. “Why… why did all this… why must it happen to you?”

“For that, I have no answer,” Xie Lian said. “But, if it had to happen to anyone, I’m glad it happened to me.”

Feng Xin and Mu Qing looked like they’d been shattered into a million pieces. Xie Lian said ruefully, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Mu Qing rushed forward. “GODDAMN IT, THE FACT THAT I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT IT IS EVEN WORSE! WHY DIDN’T YOU ASK FOR HELP? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO USE US, RELY ON US, THAT WAS OUR FUCKING JOB AND WE…”

“At the time, you were ganging up with Middle Court lackeys to chase him out of spiritual lands,” Hua Cheng remarked icily, pulling Xie Lian closer to him.

Mu Qing appeared stupefied, like Hua Cheng had just slapped him. “San Lang!” Xie Lian admonished. Mu Qing sat back down.

Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing both looked like they wanted to protest more, but Xie Lian continued with the story before they could. When he described donning the white mask and preparing to unleash the Human Face Disease, both of them seemed to hold their breath. Hua Cheng described his rebirth as a ghost soldier, following Xie Lian’s commands but never believing that he would truly commit the atrocity.

Feng Xin was regarding him with something that almost looked like newfound respect, but Mu Qing turned his head.

The rest was all downhill from there. He described laying on the pavement for days on end, and the one farmer who’d salvaged his faith in human goodness.

“To anyone else, thousands of onlookers ignoring your pain and suffering before one did anything shouldn’t reinforce your faith in anything…” Mu Qing muttered.

Xie Lian pressed forward, practically sprinting through the unleashed Human Face Disease, taking the brunt of the curses, and then Hua Cheng dying for him for the second time. He talked about ascending into heaven, and asking Jun Wu to punish him for his wrongdoings using banishment and cursed shckles.

“…DIANXIA?!?” Feng Xin gasped. “IT WASN’T A MURDEROUS RAMPAGE?”

“Nope!” Xie Lian said cheerily, relief crossing his face as if he was pleased to be done talking.

Mu Qing’s face darkened, and he started swearing again. “I WAS FUCKING WONDERING HOW SOMEONE AS TALENTED AS YOU SPENDS 800 YEARS TRYING TO ASCEND, IT WAS ON FUCKING PURPOSE? FUCKING FUCK, I WANT TO STRANGLE SOMETHING! SOMEONE GIVE ME SOMETHING TO BREAK!” He clomped off in a random direction.

Feng Xin’s face looked shadowed over, too. “Here I was wondering how you suddenly had such bad luck. As Crown Prince, you’d never had something so egregious. Now, learning that you asked for it… it all makes sense.” His hands were clenched into tight fists, and his words turned into cries. “Why… why… why… for 800 years, we felt… we waited, we were waiting, for something, and we thought maybe you’d died, or gone crazy, or vanished… We…”

Xie Lian had approached him, and put both hands on his shoulders. It was an old, but familiar gesture, and Feng Xin’s heart immediately squeezed with pain and regret. He was at a loss for words, and everything seemed wretched.

“Feng Xin, I understand your anguish,” Xie Lian said softly. “But I became very close to becoming that thing which I swore to destroy. And, to be honest, at that point I didn’t care much for godhood. I lost everything because of godhood. What I couldn’t stand to lose was myself, not to that monster, not to anyone. So, please understand. I’m sorry I hurt you, but it was necessary.”

“WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO FUCKING GOOD?” Mu Qing roared, coming to stand next to Feng Xin. “WHY CAN’T YOU EVER BE SELFISH?”

Xie Lian chuckled, and Mu Qing covered his mouth, as if the words had escaped by their own volition. “…I wasn’t being good, I was scared.”

Mu Qing swore more. Feng Xin, on the other hand, fell to his knees, his shoulders trembling. So, Xie Lian acted on impulse, pulling Mu Qing down to the ground, too. Xie Lian then wrapped one arm around Feng Xin, and the other around Mu Qing, enveloping the both of them in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian murmured again, trying to control their trembling. He couldn’t tell, at this point, if it was only Feng Xin, or if it was Mu Qing too.

“We failed. I failed,” Feng Xin said, and his voice was raw with agony. “Why are you apologizing?”

“It wasn’t fair to either of you… but I loved you very much, and it was like you were shackled to a man descending to the bottom of a lagoon. If I didn’t remove your chains, you would’ve drowned too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, holy shit, I’m so sorry,” Feng Xin said, almost gasping through the words. He looked as though someone had drawn a sword across his Adam’s apple, and he was choking through the blood. “Taizi Dianxia, I’m sorry. I failed.”

“Don’t be so damn self-sacrificing, Your Highness.” It was Mu Qing, this time, and he wasn’t struggling against the embrace. “Every single fucking time. Disgusting. How can we even stop you? Something like this. Damnit.”

“I’m a bit tougher than I look,” Xie Lian assured him. “Drowning is no big deal. Pain will subside. Embarrassment will fade. And look, I’m very happy now.”

From somewhere far away, Hua Cheng laughed slightly. However, even Mu Qing and Feng Xin, who weren’t well acquainted with him, could hear that it was laced with pain, too.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to stay with you,” Feng Xin said. “I wanted to stay, I trusted you unequivocally, you’re my world. But it scared me…”

Xie Lian smiled. “I know. You didn’t have to say anything. Ever since you came to help me at Yu Jun Mountain, I’ve known. And I’m grateful.”

“Stop being so damn forgiving.” Mu Qing’s voice was muffled by Xie Lian’s robes.

“Why? I forgive you.” Mu Qing and Feng Xin seemed to collapse in on themselves. So Xie Lian repeated, “I forgive you.”

No one moved for a long time. The trembling intensified. “You’re so damn forgiving,” Mu Qing mumbled. “It doesn’t mean a thing…”

And yet, they were not willing to break away.

Even after 800 years, Mu Qing and Feng Xin didn’t think that they would ever get used to being dazzled by the Crown Prince.

[thatringboy]

Ganqing getting together Idol au? (Extra: Hanahaki disease and angsty, only if you want. Otherwise, fluff or angst or whatever is fine.)

Or

Just idol au with genshin characters, doesn't have to be anything in particular

ohmygods this one took so long to write and it was so worth it! love me some good angst and hanahaki disease up in this house!!!

Glaze Lilies in my Throat

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, Blood, Hospitals

Characters: Keqing, Ganyu, Ningguang, Beidou

Ships: Gangqing, Background Beiqquang if you squint

Word Count: 12,758 (FIVE pages of google docs!)

Summary: Idol!Keqing finds herself falling fast and hard for her fellow dancer, Ganyu, but her pride keeps her from admitting her feelings. Until the petals in her throat start taking a toll on her career

The first time the purple haired girl noticed the petals, she just thought that they had fallen off of a bouquet she had received from a fan. Keqing assumed her throat was sore from the show she had completed, so she popped a cough drop in her mouth and quickly changed to head to dinner with the other girls in the group.

The restaurant they were at wasn’t anything too fancy, just a small hole in the wall place for their group, the Qixing, to meet up. The group’s center, Ningguang, knew the owner and was able to order milkshakes for everyone for free.

It was a pleasant outing. Keqing sat near the window side of the booth the women shared and quietly sipped her vanilla milkshake while the other members of the group discussed their performances. Ganyu slid into the seat next to her and pushed a straw into her own chocolate shake.

“Is everything alright? You look lost in thought, Miss Keqing.”

There was a sudden tightness in her throat, or something became lodged in her airways because Keqing began to cough into her elbow. “My apologies, I was just staring off into space. I am quite alright.”

Ganyu gave her a pleasant smile that made heat rise in her cheeks before turning to the rest of the group to join their conversation. Keqing quickly looked away and her eyes fell to her lap where the blue petals had fallen off of her sleeve. They were identical to the petals she had seen earlier that evening. Keqing was no fool, she instantly recognized what had brought the flowers and her eyes shifted back to Ganyu, who was laughing at Ningguang and her chocolate moustache.

She brushed the petals onto the floor with a cold expression. Out of sight, out of mind.

The petals plagued Keqing for a few more months after that night. They always appeared when Ganyu was near her, but all the idol did was tuck them away and began keeping a handkerchief on her person for when the blood started to come up with the flowers. She became used to the tightness of her throat and dryness of her mouth that accompanied her beating heart when Ganyu would clasp her hand between those slender fingers and stare at her with those large eyes. Everytime Keqing thought she would collapse from exhaustion, Ganyu would be there to pick her up and tell her to keep going. How could she not fall for such kindness?

After the petals began appearing, Keqing only allowed herself to be alone with Ganyu once in fear of making her feelings known. It was after a particularly long dance rehearsal and the other women left before they did. As they were cleaning up the practice room, a small photo fell out of Ganyu’s bag.

Keqing moved to pick it up, turning the paper over in her fingers. In the photo was a baby Ganyu sitting on the lap of an elegant woman with blue eyes and had her hair pinned up by an eerily familiar flower.

“Who is this woman?”

Ganyu glanced over at the picture. “My, that’s an old picture. I’ve told you how I was adopted as a child, right? That woman was my adoptive mother, Guizhong.”

“Was?” Keqing handed the photo back.

“Yes, was. She was a botanist who loved flowers. That one in her hair is a species she selectively bred for years before perfecting them. We called them ‘Glaze Lilies’. She was killed in a hit and run when I was twelve.”

So the flowers have a name. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

Ganyu gave her a sweet smile. “Don’t be, she’s always with me, I can feel her guiding me.”

Keqing turned away before the blush could overtake her face and swallowed down the petals in her mouth. So cute!

The first time a blue bud appeared was during a meeting with her manager and Ningguang, who was also the owner of the group. Keqing shifted uncomfortably in her chair as the manager and albino woman looked over a report of her performances.

Ningguang cleared her throat. “Keqing, you know how much we love to have you in the group…”

Keqing felt the familiar tightness in her throat. She sat still and tried to swallow it down as Ningguang continued.

“However, your ratings have been going down recently. You have been leaving rehearsals early, and we’ve noticed the quality of your performances is suffering.”

Slowly, Keqing reached into the pocket of her skirt for a handkerchief as she felt the petals rise back up. Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

The manager made a sad face. “Keqing… if things don’t change, then we may need to replace you. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are now, I really don’t want to do this, but if you can’t put your previous energy into this work then maybe we need to go separate ways.”

Panic.

“No, no, I can do it!” Opening her mouth to protest was a bad idea. As soon as the words spilled from her lips, she doubled over in a fit of coughs, the scent of blood filling the room. Something larger than her usual petals dislodged itself from her throat and fell onto the floor between her and her bosses.

An unbloomed Glaze Lily pod with specks of blood tainting the innocent color bounced on the carpet and rolled next to Ningguang’s foot. She looked at Keqing’s face in horror. “Keqing…”

The purple haired girl got to her feet, covering her mouth with the tiny piece of fabric and bowed quickly, moving towards the door. “I-I’m sorry, I promise to get to practice on time and I will get my ratings back up!”

She only took two steps before falling to her knees in another fit of coughing. This time it was two pods, one halfway blooming. Ningguang called for the manager to call an ambulance before rushing to Keqing’s side, rubbing a soothing hand across her back.

The next few hours were a blur. Keqing barely remembers an ambulance arriving, being carted away with a tube down her throat, a couple doctors examining her before letting her rest. When she became coherent, Keqing was able to sit up despite the oxygen tube in her nose and became aware of a doctor waiting for her.

“Miss Keqing, how are you feeling?”

She opened her mouth to talk, but it was the most sore it had ever felt. She tapped her neck to let the doctor know her speech status. He nodded and produced a pen and pad for her to write on.

“I feel terrible, but not like I’m about to die.”

He read over the paper. “Are you aware of what The Hanahaki Disease is?”

“Of course.” She penned down.

“How long have you been in this predicament?” His calm eyes went back to the pad.

Keqing thought for a second before writing again. “Five months.”

“Five months.” He read outloud softly. “Do you know who brought the flowers to you?”

“No.” She lied. She had known from the very beginning, but a glance out of the glass window of the room’s door revealed that her entire group was anxiously waiting outside. There was no need to drag anyone else into her problem.

The doctor took a deep breath. “Miss Keqing, you are aware of what the removal of the flowers entails if you cannot find the person responsible for these feelings, correct?”

“Yes.” Loss of the memories of that person. From beyond the door, Ganyu peeked through the window with a worried expression. Behind her was Ningguang frantically pointing at her head with wide eyes and her lips in a thin, focused line. The doctor followed Keqing’s eyes to the door and as he did, Ningguang instantly stopped and went back to looking as regal as ever.

The doctor chuckled dryly. “You know, I can’t do my job if you lie to me.”

He got up and moved to let Ganyu into the room as Keqing began to scribble down words in a panic. The doctor opened the door and gestured to the chair beside the bed before shutting the door behind the other idol. Ganyu nervously sat down and Keqing stopped writing, not meeting her eyes.

Ganyu reached out to touch Keqing’s hand, but stopped. “We were all so worried when Miss Ningguang told us you had been hospitalized. I’m not sure what I would have done if something had happened--” She caught Keqing staring at her with wide eyes and silenced herself with the lightest shade of pink dusting her cheeks.

Keqing pulled her knees to her chest to have a hard surface to write on. “Did she tell you what I have?”

Ganyu shook her head. “No, but Miss Ningguang gave a weird look.”

Ah, the ever observant Ningguang and the blissfully unaware Ganyu. She scratched down another sentence. “There’s something I should probably tell you…”

Ganyu read the notepad, whispering the words to herself in that way that made Keqing fall harder and nodded. “I’m all ears, err, eyes?”

Keqing flipped to a new page. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and her hands shook a little. She was a fool for even considering having the flowers removed surgically. She held the pen over the paper and began writing everything down. From the night at the milkshake bar, the petals in her throat being the same kind of flowers Ganyu’s mother made, how Ganyu’s smile made her heart flutter and her stomach twist in a way that she never wanted to end. The flowers had stolen her voice, so she wrote it all, pouring her heart into every word like the disease would kill her that very night.

When she finished, Keqing quickly shoved the notepad to Ganyu and turned away with a red face, not wanting to see the other’s reaction to the written love confession.

Ganyu read every word slowly, tears pooling in her blue and purple eyes and blush burning her cheeks at the raw emotions before her. When she finished, she simply held out her free hand for the pen, which Keqing practically threw at her. She wanted her bedsheets to swallow her up like that scene from Nightmare on Elm Street.

The blue haired woman wrote something quickly and handed both the pen and pad back to Keqing. She took it and read over the short message left at the bottom of her confession.

“I feel the same way.”

In an instant, Keqing felt her throat open and she took a loud gulp of air, making Ganyu jump in surprise. Keqing began to laugh as she grabbed Ganyu’s wrist and pulled her onto the bed and into a tight hug. “Yes yes yes yes yes! I can finally breathe!”

She realized how close Ganyu’s face was to her own and let go quickly, the color returning to her face ten-fold. “Sorry about that.”

Ganyu remained sitting on the bed, covering her face in her own hands. “It’s fine, really!”

“Hah! What a couple of dorks!” Called a deep voice from the doorway.

The two on the bed snapped their heads towards the sound to see Ningguang grabbing the intruder, a tall burly woman with an eyepatch, by her ear and dragging her out of the room. “Out with you! I called you here to provide moral support, not gawk at my dancers!”

Ganyu giggled. “That’s Miss Beidou for you, I suppose.”

Keqing looked at the discarded notepad and those five words scrawled in neat handwriting.

“I feel the same way.”

Keqing is a woman of sound mind. She thinks through her actions and keeps to herself when situations do not concern her. She keeps her head down and doesn’t make rash decisions. So of course she surged forward to plant a kiss on Ganyu’s cheek before pulling back in horror of her own actions and covering her lips with her hand.

Ganyu turned red as her hand went up to touch the spot Keqing had kissed. “That was sweet, thank you.”

“You said on the paper that you feel the same way I do about you so I just thought--” Her panicked rambling was silenced by Ganyu moving closer to her and gently pulling her hands from her mouth with a nervous smile.

“I’m not very good with words like you, Miss Keqing, so sorry that my confession was so bland.”

Keqing blinked. “That’s what you’re caught up on?! And enough with the formalities, you just cured my Hanahaki Disease and saved me from getting fired!”

“Wait, fired? I thought Miss Ningguang pulled you into the manager’s office yesterday for tea… were you about to be let go?”

“Probably!”

Ganyu playfully poked Keqing’s oxygen tube in her nose. “Then the flowers did you a favor.”

“THEY WERE THE REASON I WASN’T PERFORMING WELL IN THE FIRST PLACE!”

The blue haired woman took Keqing’s hands again. “And now they’re gone, for good this time?”

Keqing blinked once more. “‘This time’? What do you mean, ‘this time’--!”

Ganyu panicked and surged forward to kiss her. Keqing, not believing what was happening, halted all protests and sunk into it, ignoring the plastic tube in her nose and letting the scent of vanilla fill her senses.

When they broke away, it felt like an eternity had passed, but it wasn’t long enough, so they kissed again, and again and again until they were panting for air and the doctor returned with an amused smile. All thoughts slipped from Keqing’s usually buzzing mind and she found herself only focusing on the woman before her; the one she cared so much about for so long that flowers bloomed in her throat. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing didn’t have a care in the world. With Ganyu by her side, Keqing knew she was going to be just fine.

[gusu-emilu]

miscellaneous MDZS/CQL fic recs (AO3)

broken into sections: Character Study (-esque), Wangxian, Jiang Cheng ships, Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent), Humor/Crack, and Other

Character Study (-esque)

Wei Wuxian

my eyes got used to the darkness by @curiosity-killed (M, Sunshot Campaign era, 4.4k): The funny thing, the thing that makes his lips curl in a grin and his hands shake with laughter, is that all these cultivators with their lofty principles and noble ambitions can’t even notice the ghost among them. Sure, they shiver at his presence and flinch from his cold hands, but not one of them puts it together. Lan Wangji chases him with healing music and Nie Mingjue frowns solemnly at his dancing corpses—and he laughs and laughs and laughs because they just don’t get it. Emilu's commentary: CW for mild body horror.

Jiang Cheng

in our respective ways by @veliseraptor (T, Sunshot Campaign era, 5.7k): Jiang Cheng has his golden core back. But he seems to have lost Wei Wuxian.

You Know I've Fallen, but I Know How High by villainais (M, Post-WWX's death, 2.7k): Jiang Cheng loses both of his siblings in Nightless City. Minutes apart. He trudges home to Yunmeng with one body, holds a private funeral with a single coffin, and allows himself to wear his mourning robes for ten days—permits himself not a single day more. He is still too young and inexperienced, an unfledged boy to the cultivation world, and he is rebuilding Lotus Pier on his own. He will not gift the other sect leaders the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable. Propriety be damned. Hanguang-jun emerges from his seclusion wearing white. He does not stop.

Nie Huaisang

it deepens like a coastal shelf by @wolffyluna (M, Post-WWX's death, 21.6k): When Nie Huaisang meets Mo Xuanyu, he realises two things quickly. One, this kid is so doomed. Two, this kid would be a great unwitting spy in his plans to bring down Jin Guangyao. It would be so easy to get into Mo Xuanyu's confidences, and so easy to get him to tell him anything he needs. ...only thing is, that wouldn't be very good for Mo Xuanyu's life expectancy. But he'll do it anyway, if it helps him avenge his brother. A fic about man handing on misery to man, the parallels and cycles in the relationships between Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu, and the lengths these characters will go to meet their goals and if there are lines they won't cross.

Lan Xichen

an old man in dried mouths by @tenacious-minds (T, Post-Canon, 3.3k): Xichen thinks. The tea had always stained the crockery red. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen and Jin Ling talk about Jin Guangyao.

can you be a quiet man? by @basket-of-loquats (Unrated, Post-Canon, 70.7k+) But something inside him snapped at Guanyin Temple-- and Lan Wangji watched it happen, saw the exact moment that Lan Xichen went from broken to shattered, when he buried his sword into Jin Guangyao’s chest, when his sworn brother stared up at him with wide eyes, blood dripping from his mouth, when he pulled himself closer and closer and closer-- When he whispered "Why don’t you die with me?", and Lan Xichen hadn’t argued. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen / therapy with a side of Wangxian.

Wen Ning

breathless (but i'll pretend to breathe for you) by swordsainted (T, Burial Mounds Settlement era, 4.1k): Wei Wuxian is silent for a long minute, and then he looks at Wen Ning, something raw and open and hurting behind his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, and Wen Ning shakes his head, still smiling. “You’ve protected everyone. How could I hate you for that?”

Mo Xuanyu

stand at the pit's mouth by @eldritch-elrics (M, MXY's death, 9.3k): The dreams and regrets of a man on the edge of oblivion. Emilu's commentary: Surrealist/absurdist screenplay.

Wangxian

I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett (T, Immortality Post-Canon, 10.4k): During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair. “Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.” “I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.” “And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.” Emilu's commentary: Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian centuries later and does not remember the past. There is also an excellent podfic by @forgotten-envies

Look Not With The Eyes by Spodumene (G, Post-Canon, 28.1k): Wei Wuxian returns from his travels to join Lan Wangji on a routine night hunt, but when things take an unexpected turn, Wei Wuxian will have to fight for what he's really looking for. Emilu's commentary: Case fic.

All In A Good Time by bigboobedcanuck (E, Post-Canon, 8k): Lan Zhan is struck by a curse that brings him intense physical pain unless he's being touched. He is stoic and tries to hide his suffering. Wei Wuxian is worried and protective. Perhaps they will finally admit their feelings?

Across a Lake of Glass by Zizzani (E, Figure Skating AU, 92.2k+): Each year, Gusu Skating Club runs a camp for only the most elite athletes of each region. This year brings a new skater from the Yunmeng Club who wears skates lined with red and a smile made for war. He skates like a demon. Figure skating au featuring lots of healthy rivalry, pre and post-competition bonding, and an inexplicable fall from grace through the eyes of the media.

Jiang Cheng Ships

Chengqing

display my heart for you to see by @souridealist (M, Post-Canon Wen Qing Lives AU, 5.5k): Jiang Cheng has his own secrets. Some of them are part of the unburied past; some of them are about how long it's been since anyone has touched him.

while I'm in this body by @souridealist (E, Post-Lotus Pier Massacre, 3.9k): For just a few minutes, alone in her office, Wen Qing allows her self-control to slip enough to cry. It's just her luck that that's when Jiang Cheng comes looking for her. Emilu's commentary: Femdom.

Chengning

it may be that it doesn't matter by @wildehacked (T, Post-Canon, 6.6k) “Are you crying?” Jiang Wanyin asks him, and Wen Ning frowns. Pats his cheek with one hand. “No.” Emilu's commentary: Holy Grail of Chengning.

Whatever It Is by morau (E, Post-Canon, 20.5k): It starts, as with a lot of things, with a very poorly thought out prank, courtesy of Wei Wuxian. Emilu's commentary: A LOT of sex and even more emotions lol

won't run away (we're here to stay) by @qi-ling (T, Post-Canon, 3.5k): "Please don't feel any pressure to accept this, and you can take as much time as you need to think about it." It's a set of robes, in shades of deep purple, complete with leather bracers. Cut in a different style than that of the disciples or household staff, closer to the understated robes Wen Ning typically wears. He reaches out to feel the fabric. His deadened nerves can't sense delicate textures well, but even he can tell it's of a quality on par to Wanyin's own wardrobe. This is startling enough coming from Jiang Wanyin, but then Wen Ning notices the belt. In particular, the silver bell in the shape of a lotus affixed to it. Only recognized members of the Jiang sect may wear the clarity bell. Or, Jiang Cheng has an invitation for Wen Ning.

Zhancheng

By Proxy by @veliseraptor (E, Post-WWX's death, 12k): Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, looking for comfort in all the wrong places. Emilu's commentary: Hate sex that made me cry

Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent)

Songxuexiao

Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It by @silvysartfulness (M, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 123k+): One of the most complex spells of demonic cultivation the world has seen is brought to fruition, and Xiao Xingchen draws his first shaking breaths in over seven years. This, it turns out, is only the start of his problems. Emilu's commentary: Pretty sure everyone already knows about Silvy's happy songxuexiao road trip fic but it has to be here.

Xue Yang & Lan Xichen

Hours On Empty series by @lady-of-the-lotus (M to E, Post-Canon, 57.8k+): AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen. "Fractured Ice" - Xue Yang whisks a nihilistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? "Control" - "Fractured Ice" retold from Xue Yang's pov. "A Thousand Miles In Its Light" - Alternate ending to "Fractured Ice" and "Control"

Songxiao with Xuexiao Flashbacks

Nothing Beside Remains by @eldritch-elrics (T, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 21.9k): And Xiao Xingchen is dressed in dark clothing that is not his, and his sight is all of a sudden sharp in a way that it has never been before, and Xue Yang is not here. “He wouldn’t,” he breathes. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s too—” “He’s too what?” Wei Wuxian steps a foot closer, face hard-set. “Too cruel? Or too kind?” Or: Xue Yang uses the Sacrifice Summon on Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen lives with the consequences.

Humor/Crack

The Hangover: A pre-wedding Dramedy series by natcat5 (M, Modern AU, 51.6k): It is not a bachelor party. That was made clear on all the invitations. It is a congratulatory get together for Jin Zixuan, attended by his family, the family of the bride, and the young masters of the other two families in their circle. The gathering is not to go later than midnight, everyone must drink in moderation, and no one is allowed to be hungover tomorrow. Wei Wuxian had promised Yanli, three fingers in the air. Jiang Cheng had rolled his eyes, but promised as well. Saturday morning, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng wake up alone in a hotel room, missing shoes, phones, and almost all their memories of what in the world happened last night. Also missing: Wei Wuxian, brother of the bride, Lan Wangji, esteemed guest, Lan Xichen, esteemed guest, Jin Zixun, cousin of the groom, Jin Guangyao, brother and best-man, Jin Zixuan, THE GROOM, who is due at his bride-to-be's house in six hours. That's plenty of time to find everyone...right?

Jiang Cheng Loves Jar Jar Bombad Mui by @lady-of-the-lotus (G, Post-Canon, 1.7k) Jar Jar Binks washes up on the shores of Lotus Pier. Can he win the lonely Jiang Cheng's proud heart? Neb neb answer is yesa. Emilu's commentary: There's also a podfic by @aowyn. Yes, with a Jar Jar voice.

Other

Nie Huaisang & Wen Ning

By Name by nirejseki (G, Post-Canon, 1.3k): After the traumatic events in the now-collapsed temple, Wen Ning lingered behind and unexpectedly saw Nie Huaisang, the undisputed victor of an all-around terrible evening, sitting on the steps of the temple, looking exhausted and miserable, as if he’d won nothing at all. Wen Ning found himself drifting over to him.

Jiang Yanli & Nie Mingjue

utility by magicites (G, Arranged Marriage AU, 2.3k): Jiang Yanli and Nie Mingjue's wedding is a political one — a gesture of unity between their Sects. A way for her parents to finally get some use out of the plain-faced sham of a cultivator they call a daughter. “Jiang-guniang,” Nie Mingjue says, and the formality in such a setting as intimate as their wedding chambers startles her, “I don’t wish to bed you. Or any other woman, for that matter. It isn’t fair for you to live alone because of my own preferences.” She rests her hand on his arm, cool relief flooding her body like water on a summer afternoon. “If it helps, I don’t feel desire for men,” she whispers.

Jin Guangyao / Nie Huaisang

Pulling Strings by @eldritch-elrics (E, Post-WWX's death, 5k): Nie Huaisang, quite drunk, turns up at Jin Guangyao’s door one night with an unexpected request. Emilu's commentary: Nie Huaisang knows Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue. This interaction is more symbolic than anything else...

[elsewhereuniversity]

rescue mission

It’s been five weeks and two days since Fake Dana was kil- disappeared and Real Dana came back. I didn’t know exactly what would happen to me should I complain about it to anyone but the dean, so I was laying low, but… the recent discovery of my roommate’s skin being a bright shade of green changed some of my plans.

When I told him - Threeox - about Real Dana murdering Fake Dana, and now living invisibly on the campus (I’d never seen her again), he sighed, locked the door and windows, before making me sit on the floor between our beds and getting out a small wooden key out of a seemingly lidless box made of shimmery dark brown wood. The box was amazingly carved, so much so that looking at it too long made me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes not to faint as the patterns on the lid started to sway as to a sharp breeze.

“Threeox, what’s that about ?” I asked, a little confused - and a whole lot scared.

That was probably not my smartest move - Threeox doesn’t talk per se, he just… gets his point across in a remarkable way that I had yet to pin down. A series of drawings of a cat with five eyes and a full ten minutes of interpretative dancing later, I kind of gathered that Fake Dana was trapped in the mirrors in the North Dorm, and couldn’t get out because of all the iron.

Naturally, I tried to organise a rescue mission, but gathering partners proved difficult. Real Dana apparently gained quite a reputation among the Student Witches, and everyone kept looking at me weirdly when I asked where Fake Dana was and if we could, like, rescue her maybe ? No one wanted to talk to me for more than two minutes, fidgeting uncomfortably and asking me if I’d packed my suitcase yet. I wasn’t going anywhere without Fake Dana, but hey, who am I to contradict the masses ? I’d just have to lay low a little longer.

It started on rocky grounds but I did gather for this mission a few seniors, all knights that had a history of being kind(er) to the Changelings, even though I’d never heard of them before. Their names were Toll, Bell and Eulogy, which - okay, some of us have weird names, but… It’s not that hard to pick a happy one. I couldn’t quite remember what mine was now but people had no trouble remembering me when I talked to them, so I assumed that was fine.

Add to the knights a freshman, EXO. Freshmen are probably a bit too young and frightened for that, but the fearless EXO wasn’t, uh, exactly a freshman ? Freshperson ? They were at least two metres tall and they had that look in their eyes that told you not to mess with them or they’d do unspeakable things that I, well, couldn’t speak of. Just know they were good for stuff like this. Or so I assumed, since they were the one who brought the knights to my bi-weekly “Where is Fake Dana” search.

We got some supplies: the baseball bat Fake Dana hid under my bed that one night the dean decided to do a room check, a good couple teaspoons of charcoal, some rags, a freaking battleaxe that Toll swooshed around like it weighed nothing, and that one river rock the archivist kindly lent us, and we departed for the wild wild north. Midnight seemed an appropriate time.

The dorm looked fancy, not gonna lie, the iron structure glimmered and almost rippled under the moonlight. I felt EXO shiver as we entered, their eyes losing any life that they might have had, their skin getting that weird greenish hue it didn’t have just moments before. The knights also shivered, but that might have been the cold.

The entrance was deserted, no sign of life save for a calico cat who meowed at us and tried to eat my shoelaces. She promptly departed when I told her they were a gift from the president, though I didn’t specify which president. It was the president of the cross-stitching club I was in in middle school, and she, uh, suffered from a slight eye issue after she looked through my hagstone. I mean, I did warn her about seeing the Nethers through the hole, but she didn’t listen.

Anyways, enough of that. Toll started to hack at the nearest door with his axe, waking up the poor unsuspecting students living there. “Where the fuck is she ?”, I asked, peeking around Toll’s shoulders. The two girls looked at each other, at Toll’s axe, at each other again, and one of them ended up spitting out “Basement. Third door to the left. Hope you die a slow, painful death, girl, you deserve it.”

Eulogy, true to her name, sang a few verses in Tamil, and we all collected our spirits before walking towards the basement. The iron in the walls seemed to sing to the beat of our steps, the doors creaking to the rhythm of our breaths. EXO seemed paler and paler under the dimmed overhead lights, until Eulogy sprayed us all with what I can only assume is water from that Wishing Well we’re not exactly supposed to talk about. That seemed to calm us down a little. I squeezed EXO’s hand when they looked at me questioningly, my smile thin and eyes dulled by fatigue. I couldn’t sleep that well since Fake Dana was gone, so I just wanted this to be over with already. 

The third door was cracked open, but no sounds emanated from behind the heavy iron and the weird, Tolkien-inspired words of advice in elvish. I could recognise “The way is shut, and the Dead keep it”, which wasn’t even the full correct quote. The door swayed to an invisible breeze and it opened way too silently for something made of rusty metal. As we went down the stairs, we could hear the stone crackle with contained electricity, so much so that Toll, Bell and Eulogy decided to stay up to guard our backs. EXO grit their teeth but didn’t stop, grabbing Toll’s axe on the way.

“Good luck, bro, and good riddance, you girl,” Eulogy waved, and the three knights were gone as if they were never here. I wondered what she meant by that, but I couldn’t ask in time. EXO gestured to the stairs, mouth shut tight. I was kind of getting tired of everyone telling me I should leave, so I hoped at least Fake Dana would help with that. Hadn’t I been working so hard to rescue her ?

At the bottom of the narrow stairs were two doors, also made out of metal, and what Threeox told me about - the mirror.

Ten feet tall, circled with iron chains, the metal behind the glass pane was reminiscent of clouds, though it was most likely silver. I could see a prostrate silhouette in the bottom right corner, faint tremors running through her whole body, sobs muffled, whimpers of pain spread between fits of coughing.

I yelled something I couldn’t really understand, a guttural sound that made her raise her head, and I saw Fake Dana’s eyes grow wide as she recognised me.

“Missed me ?” She smiled, teeth sharp.

My throat went tight as she started to slam her fists against the glass. “It’ll be okay soon. I promise,” I said, examining the lock keeping the iron chains together.

“Hey, move, I’ll take care of it,” a voice I pinned on EXO whispered in my ear. “Tell her to stand back.”

I did so, and Fake Dana retreated to the far side of the mirrorspace. With three swipes of his axe, EXO managed to hack away most of the chains, and the rest I hastily discarded, fists pounding on the glass as Fake Dana pounded back. 

“The key. The lock.”

“Fuck.” I started rummaging through my satchel, finally finding the small piece of wood that has slithered into the bag of crackers I keep for the crows. “Where is that fucking lock ?”

EXO gestured to the back of the mirror and helped me turn it around, their skin starting to sea as they kept pushing the metal. They eventually managed to shift it enough that I could wrestle my arm in and fit the key into an oddly shaped keyhole. 

The back of the mirror started glowing a pale green before cracking open, revealing a room barely large enough to fit Fake Dana. Tears welling up in my eyes, I did my best to extract her without causing her too much damage until she finally made it out to the other side.

“Friend,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d ever find you ! Thankfully Threeox helped, and there’s - look,” I continued, turning back to face my rescue team, forgetting it was only me and EXO now.

They were smiling, too, and they gestured at the stairs. I understood what they meant - out.

I turned to Fake Dana again, still somewhat relieved to see her dry her tears and gracefully get up without giving me the time to offer help. She smiled like nothing was wrong. I followed her up the stairs and into the hall, her naked feet sizzling and leaving angry red marks on the floor, probably due to the iron dust covering every inch of the place. EXO swung the the front door open, touching the iron pane with a quickly blistering hand, and as I looked at them more closely, I couldn’t help but mouth “Threeox”. 

“Oh shit, right, come here !” Fake Dana grabbed my face with both her hands, her palms wet with leftover tears and blood, the feel of them sending shivers down my spine. She spat in my eyes like she’d done before, and suddenly the night became less bright, her skin less pale, EXO’s features morphing into the face of my roommate, skin going from that red I’d been kinda surprised about, to the vibrant green that the cat warned me about. 

Toll, Bell and Eulogy were nowhere to be seen. I started wondering if I’d dreamed about them, if they were ever here at all. Their names had stuck in my mind and once again I wondered what mine was. I know Sizzle, my roommate, was quite upset before shoving me out of the room - which room was that again ? 17 ? 23 ? I forgot.

Fake Dana interrupted my thoughts with a light shove on my arm. “You can leave, now, you’ll remember who you are soon. It’s okay, it’s done.”

“What’s done ?” I tried to ask, but my eyelids suddenly became so heavy I had trouble keeping them open.

The last thing I heard were guttural sounds, so unlike Fake Dana’s voice, and a wet caress on my back.

I woke up on this train a few moments ago. I don’t know where it’s going, except from “Far away” and “Not where I came from”. My suitcase is filled with all my belongings, except the iron jewellery I acquired during my two years as Elsewhere U. And as I look at the landscape we are zapping by, I do not recognise the streets nor the trees.

The only thing keeping me from falling asleep again is the sticky red liquid pouring out of my nose, making me curse out loud as I scramble for a handkerchief. The blood stops flowing after a while, and I catch my reflection in the window across me.

I have several streaks of white hair, the contrast sharp with my otherwise dark brown ponytail. My eyes are bloodshot and I have blood caked on my face in the shape of hands. My skin is pale, my eyes gleam a quickly fading red.

I remember it now. My name is Dana.

x

[angel-tries-to-write]

Bloody favor

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Hanji Zoë Word count: 3204 Genre: smut, fluff

When Hanji suffers from menstrual pain, there's only one person who can help them.

Sometimes Hanji joked, that if only they could do more experiments on Eren without hurting him, they would be able to get to know titans so well, they could predict the times they attack. Levi would always roll his eyes and say that it would be very convenient, yet very impossible as well, since the titans weren't much known for thinking, with the obvious exception for shifters. Unfortunately for him, the crazy scientist wasn't the type to give up on their theories, until proven wrong, besides that would be a wonderful ability, to predict the attack and being able to properly prepare for it. Hanji felt it on a personal level, knowing there is a certain pattern to their behavior would made all their lives and fight less stressful, and stress was the last thing they needed.

Their body was acting weird recently, it felt uncomfortable, heavy and tired all the time, their personality has changed as well, they always were impulsive and short tempered, but the past few days have proven that their patience was very short, to the point that when Nanaba joked that maybe they are pregnant, she barely dodged a particularly heavy book Hanji threw at her. Not that it was impossible, those hot nights with Levi might or might not had something to do with that, even if none of them would ever admit something was between them. But Hanji knew better, Nana's stupid joke didn't make them paranoid, but they actually connected the dots: it wasn't pregnancy, but upcoming period.

And obviously, obviously, this thing always comes unwanted. It seems to have this annoying ability of picking the worst timing ever, especially when you were busy. Hanji knew that very well, they lived for long enough to experience menstrual bleeding in various moments and places they neither expected it nor wanted. Super important and absorbing experiment? Check. Boring but mandatory meeting? Check. Long expedition that was supposed to gain valuable information? Check. First secret date with Levi? Of course. If Hanji only wanted and cared enough, they could make a very impressive list of all the places and moments they started bleeding out of nowhere. And they hated it with passion.

It seemed like, at this point, the only inconvenient situation when this condition hadn't started, was a battle with titans. Obviously, with Hanji's luck in this field, it was nearly undoubted that it was only a matter of time. Yet as usual, they weren't thinking about such things, when the titans attacked, they took their gear and rushed to the Wall with no hesitation. Even though they felt tired, overwhelmed, and they really didn't want to move, Hanji knew it was their duty as a soldier. So they fought, they fought with passion and rage no one ever expected from them. For the first time they didn't care about the experiments, information, any scientific knowledge, all they wanted was to defeat the titans and go to sleep.

At some point, when they slaughtered their way through another titan's neck, its steaming blood splattered onto their face, blinding them temporarily. Hanji swore under their breath, pushed the goggles up to see anything at least and headed to the wall for a quick break. Of course, titan blood evaporates eventually, but they didn't have time to wait until this happens, so they had to clean the goggles manually.

“Squad leader! Are you okay?” Moblit screamed, running in their direction, as Hanji took the goggles off their head, to properly wipe them.

“As okay as I can be in the middle of the battle, thank you” they answered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You're bleeding, four eyes” this time Levi spoke, though his voice was perfectly calm in comparison to Moblit's.

“I don't have time to bleed. Tell me where, so I can ignore it” Hanji did their best to look at him angrily, but they couldn't even see his face, so it was a challenge.

“Your pants” he pointed out. Hanji looked down to see a pretty large crimson pool, staining their white pants. Perfect. They should have expected that. It would also explain the constant pain in their abdomen they were experiencing.

“Oh for fuck's sake, not now” they groaned. Hanji wasn't swearing often, only when they were really tired or angry. “Fuck it, I'll take care of this later.”

“Maybe you should—”

“Don't you fucking dare to tell me what I should, unless you have more experience with periods than I have, shorty!” they snapped at Levi, very efficiently making him shut up. He knew that angry Hanji was the scariest person in the world. Apparently Moblit didn't, so he opened his mouth, but Levi elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don't even try, you'll only make them angrier” he said quietly. Meanwhile Hanji finished cleaning their goggles and they could see again, so they rushed back to fight. But as they landed on a rooftop of one of the smaller buildings, they could hear another person landing behind. They knew these footsteps too well to not figure out who followed them.

“I swear, one comment and you're dead” they growled, certainly not in the mood for bickering and jokes.

“Are you in pain?” he asked, approaching his partner. Hanji could see concern in his usually cold eyes. At first they wanted to yell at him, but they knew it wasn't going to help anyone.

“Yes” they sighed, leaning against the wall of the nearby, taller building, massaging their stomach in hope of easing the cramps.

“What I was going to suggest was that maybe you should go back and take some rest. I know it's your duty to fight” he quickly added, before they could interrupt him. “But just like injured soldiers, you only cause risk for yourself and the others by not being in your best shape.”

“I'm not injured. It's nothing, I can fight” they protested. Levi stepped forward and pinned them against the wall.

“Your pain is blinding you. Don't you see? All you've been doing is flying around and slashing titans like a maniac. That's not you, Hanji” he said and they could easily tell he was scared.

“Then what do you think I'm supposed to do? Rest comfortably while my squad and friends are fighting, bleeding and dying? Guess what, I can fight and bleed and not die” they stated angrily.

“Alright, then I'm going to have to use the more drastic methods” he leaned in and kissed them. But Hanji was not having it, they pushed him away as fast as they could.

“Are you out of your mind?! Someone might see us!” they scolded him furiously.

“Let them see, I don't care. You need relief from pain. Then I'm at your service” he smirked suggestively and put his hand on their thigh. “My body is yours, all you have to do is to use it the way you desire” he offered, pointing at himself.

“Fuck you” they spat angrily, but their blush was an obvious evidence they loved this idea, just maybe not in this place and timing.

“Excellent answer, now come and do it yourself.”

“Later” they sighed defeated, knowing fully well they couldn't resist him for long. “Once we're finished here, we can discuss your generous offer” they gave him a quick kiss and used their ODM gear to get to the other side of the area. Luckily the battle was soon to be won, after that, when they took care of the wounded and dead, Hanji could finally rest. The insides of their thighs were stained with various shades of brown and red from dried and fresh blood, and their body hurt, so all they dreamed about was a bath, a massage and, oh yes, almost naked Levi waiting for them with an already prepared bath.

“Ah, finally, you decided to show up. I thought I'd have to go and drag your dirty ass here.”

“I don't deserve you” Hanji said quietly, their eyes filled with tears.

“Less talking, more undressing. There's a bucket with cold water we have to put your bloody clothes in” he approached them and started to help them get out of ODM straps, then clothes. “Why didn't you change? I imagine it must have been very uncomfortable to wear this for that long. What did I tell you about self care?” he asked while working on taking out all the straps.

“I know, I was going to, but there was so much to do and so many people to take care of, that I didn't have time to even think about myself” Hanji explained, unable to look him in the eyes, they felt like they failed him.

“You really have to learn to care about yourself, shitty glasses” Levi said, his tone was difficult to read, even though Hanji knew him so well.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize to me. You did harm only to yourself” he said softly, kissing their neck. It tasted like sweat and dirt, which meant Hanji really needed that bath. He helped them undress completely, trying to be gentle. “Are you still in pain?”

“Yes. But I also want you so bad right now” they admitted, shamelessly staring at his chest. They were so close that they didn't even need glasses.

“Are you sure?” he asked, getting rid of his own remaining clothes. “I don't want to cause you more pain.”

“Really? That's what you care about?” Hanji raised their brow in confusion.

“What else should I?” he took a cloth, dipped it in water, kneeled for better view and started to clean all the blood on Hanji's thighs.

“Don't you think it's disgusting? And dirty?” they asked hesitantly. “Like... even more than a regular sex?”

“There's nothing that can't be cleaned later. Just like I do it now” he wiped dried blood off their skin, proving his point.

“Are you sure? I mean, cleaning is one thing, but sex?”

“Hanji... Don't make me say sappy shit” Levi sighed.

“Say it. I know you hate it, but maybe that's what I need right now” they leaned against the bathtub, to let him get a better access to their legs and crotch.

“Alright. But if you laugh, there will be consequences” he warned them. “I've heard once, that a true warrior is not afraid of a little blood on his sword, and I pretty much agree with this sentence. I don't like it, but I can handle it” he said with his eyes focused on Hanji's leg, too embarrassed to look up and meet their eyes.

“That's... disgustingly sweet.”

“Also ridiculous and pathetic.”

“Yeah. Don't do it again.”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to. But what I mean is that if you need me, I don't care about anything but your comfort” Levi stated, putting the cloth in the bucket with cold water, with Hanji's pants and underwear. He sat back on his heels and looked up, waiting for their move.

“You look really hot right now. I love to see you on your knees” they smirked, biting their bottom lip.

“Oh, I can imagine. I like to see you in this position too” he replied, there was a spark in his eyes.

“I feel almost bad I won't be able to properly use this position” Hanji lowered themself onto his lap, straddling him, then wrapped their arms around his neck. “Almost” they whispered and kissed him. Levi returned the kiss with passion, one hand entangled in their messy hair, the other caressing their buttcheek. Hanji's hand slid down his chest and perfect abs, but hesitated and only barely brushed his hardening penis. “Are you sure you want it?” they asked, looking him in the eyes.

“Yes. Now touch me, Hanji” he growled and captured their lips in another hungry kiss. The timing was perfect, just when he did it, he could feel his partner's hand on his dick, which made him moan in their mouth. He squeezed their butt in response, but that made Hanji break the kiss.

“Just be gentle, alright? My body is quite sensitive and not in the nice way. Especially my boobs, try to avoid touching them, it hurts” they asked and Levi nodded in response.

“Anything you want” he promised quietly and leaned his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on pleasure they were giving him.

“Ass gripping is fine, besides you do it so well” Hanji purred, palming him for a while and waiting for their lover to tell them he's ready. Which he did, after a moment.

“I think that's enough. Do you want me to warm you up too?”

“Umm... no, you don't have to...”

“Hanji.”

“I...” they sighed, seeing his stare. “Yes, I do” they admitted.

“It's the first time I see you this shy and embarrassed. Even our first time wasn't this awkward” Levi noticed, his thumb found their clit almost immediately. Hanji gasped when he touched that little bundle of nerves. Period cramps made it difficult for them to actually feel the pleasure in its fullest, but their lover's magical hands were doing their job very well, making Hanji feel at least a little better.

“I wasn't bleeding during our first time. Neither I felt like shit” they explained, having difficulties with gathering their thoughts when Levi was touching them like that.

“Does it really matter that much to you? It's just some blood, no big deal” he peppered their jawline with kisses.

“We'll talk about it the next time it gets on your clothes” Hanji chuckled, but Levi pressed his hand harder, making them moan.

“Clothes are a different story. I don't happen to have any now, though” he noticed, tracing their skin with his fingers. “Besides, I don't mind getting dirty from time to time. As long as I'm with you” he confessed softly.

Hanji looked at him with these beautiful, big, brown eyes and pulled him in a passionate, breathtaking kiss, then pushed his hand away and connected their bodies by sliding themself on his cock. Both of them moaned into each other's mouth at the sensation. Levi pulled his lover closer, grabbing their thighs and ass firmly, to help them move with ease, once they were ready.

This act was quite different than their usual lovemaking, but also very familiar. Levi ignored his pleasure, focusing completely on giving all the control to Hanji. It was rare, usually the one who wanted domination had to fight for it, because both of them enjoyed being in control. Even when they felt like just leaning back and leaving most of the action to their partner, none of them liked to make it that easy. But this time he knew it was a necessity. Hanji needed relief and distraction from pain, not further discomfort, so he just had to let them do whatever they needed. It felt good for him too, so he didn't actually mind. And he obviously tried to help whenever they struggled with pace or angle. It was a quite weird, slightly uncomfortable and pretty awkward comfort sex, but no less sweet and loving than their usual intercourses. Slow pace might have felt less intense than rough and fast act, but it always allowed them to feel their bodies in a different way, to learn each other and to discover new sides of pleasure. They moved in slow, steady pace, even a little sloppy, their orgasms building up like glowing embers instead of burning flame and finally flooding them calmly like a lazy sea wave, instead of usual explosion. But they enjoyed it, that soft pleasure, so different, but still satisfying.

“You were right. I needed it” Hanji panted, hiding their face in a crook of Levi's neck.

“Do you feel better?” he asked, embracing his partner.

“Yeah. I don't feel pain for now” they answered with a small smile.

“Good. We can take a bath and go to sleep” he decided, kissing his lover's shoulder and caressing their butt and thighs. “Come on, you deserve to rest after that battle.”

“You too, captain” Hanji lazily slid off him. “That looks scary” they said, staring at his cock and lap, which were covered with their menstrual blood. Levi didn't say a word, he simply reached for the cloth he previously cleaned Hanji with and wiped himself, then his lover.

“There” he gave them a quick kiss. “Now get your pretty ass into the bathtub, or I'll throw you there myself.”

“You think I have a pretty ass?” Hanji echoed, surprised by his words.

“Of course I do, you have a lovely ass” he stood up with a little difficulty, his legs were getting numb because of this position.

“Your ass is lovely too” they smiled, standing up as well. It felt really tempting to annoy Levi further, but Hanji decided they're too tired for this and stepped into the bathtub as he told them.

After a quick bath, they both headed to Hanji's room. They tried to hide their relationship, but it was common among the veterans to seek comfort in someone else, it didn't necessarily mean they were dating. It became clear after one time, when all of them woke up in a giant pile in Erwin's room, after a particularly rough expedition. It was the day when the commander allowed to bend the rules for their all mental health. It turned out to be extremely helpful. Just when Levi and Hanji were sneaking through the hallway, they heard a scream. It was Nanaba. But before the couple could react, they heard Miche's voice and screaming stopped. She had a nightmare again and he had to calm her down, sometimes in a quite drastic way, like yelling at her first, because nothing else but shock would work, only then he could hug her, when she was aware what is real and what is not. Hanji and Levi exchanged pitying glances, on top of everything they all had been through, Nana had a terrible childhood. Levi knew exactly how she felt, he wasn't surprised she couldn't sleep well, though sharing a bed with someone else was really helpful. Usually she would come to Hanji or Moblit, but recently she started to sleep only with Miche and surprisingly, her nightmares became even less frequent and less intense. Just like Levi's insomnia eased a lot since he started to share bed with Hanji. No one questioned why or how it was working, it just was and everyone simply accepted it.

Finally they reached the room and crawled into the bed. Or at least they tried. Hanji just groaned as they collapsed ungracefully onto the mattress, too exhausted to even cover themself with a blanket. Levi had to do it for them, as he placed himself behind their back, to massage their stomach.

“You're the best, Levi” they whispered. “I don't know what would I do without you.”

“Go to sleep, Hanji” he kissed their neck and nestled himself comfortably. He didn't have to tell them twice, they dozed off a moment later. Levi looked at them for a while, before closing his own eyes. He hated to see them in pain, but he was slightly happier, knowing he could help them even a little.

[xpao-bearx]

《This story series is also on my AO3 acc @ Paoloca》

SUMMARY: The bachelors of Selphia conjure up a plan to decide who truly deserves the beautiful princess' heart...if Frey can only choose one of them, that is.

PAIRINGS: Frey x Vishnal, Frey x Kiel, Frey x Doug, Frey x Arthur, Frey x Dylas, Frey x Leon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please bear these in mind if you are uncomfortable and do NOT report!

NOTE: I have been an avid fan and lover of the Rune Factory series for a looong fooken time now and with RF 5 coming up (who else can't wait?!?!) along with my bursting inspiration, I decided to do something a lil special~ 💖

This story is actually one I wrote--or at least TRIED to write as I didn't finish it--many years ago on my old Wattpad acc (I have a new one now). As such, I'm taking the basic plotline from the original idea I had and simply making it a bit better especially now that I'm older + more mature (pfft yeah sure "mAtUrE" xD).

I sincerely and deeply love ALL of the amazing bachelors on RF 4 and as someone who absolutely ✨A D O R E S✨ reverse harems, I really *personally* don't think that Frey has to choose! And so, here's a naughty + sweet story that'll kinda just delve into my--and I'm sure others'--fantasy ;)

I hope ya lovelies will enjoy this story series and your wonderful support is always very much appreciated! 🥺💕💕 Also, feel free to fangirl/fanboy with me anytime~

P.S. Please forgive mah pathetic ass in advance if I ever portray any of the characters wrong, I promise to do my best!!

"The Princess' Harem"

Part 1: The Game

☆ALL CREDIT GOES TO THE TALENTED ARTIST☆

Summer 1, the dawn of a sweltering season. But most of all...

Beach Day!

Ah, yes, a most wonderful holiday to take a dip in the refreshing water and don the most attractive swimsuits that perfectly hugged one's form! And while it was understandable for the gentlemen to gawk and admire the lovely ladies, it seemed that all the bachelors of Selphia were completely ensnared by one warrior princess in particular...

Frey's tinkly laughter carried in the air as she happily swam around in the lake with the other girls. It was certainly a gorgeous day, yet none could quite rival the turquoise haired beauty's radiant smile.

"Haa... The princess is SO beautiful~" Vishnal sighed dreamily, his violet eyes turning into hearts.

"A goddess among mere mortals!" Kiel piped up cutely.

"You guys are so lame! But, uh... Y-Yeah, I agree, I guess." Doug conceded, face flushing as scarlet as his hair.

"I am a man, after all. Therefore, I must say I agree as well." Arthur cleared his throat, propping his glasses.

"You are all perverts..." Dylas grumbled, though he couldn't help but shyly sneak a peek at Frey.

"My, my~ You're such a bad liar, horsie. Calling us perverts when you, yourself, are one~" Leon chuckled, smirking.

"Who're ya calling horsie?!" Dylas snapped, but couldn't start an argument when all of them heard a splash and saw Frey emerge onto shore.

"Princess!" Vishnal beamed, not wasting a single second as he dashed towards her with a towel much like an excited puppy. "Are you done swimming?"

Frey gratefully took the towel, wiping her drenching body with it. "Yes, I am! And once I change into my clothes, I'm going to be checking the requests."

"You're ever so diligent, Frey. I truly admire that about you." Arthur smiled as he and the rest of the boys approached their beloved girlfriend. Arthur's glasses then flashed as the sun reflected on them, and he quickly grabbed that splendid opportunity for his gaze to drop and hyperfocus on Frey's nearly naked body. He barely managed to suppress it as he almost shamelessly licked his lips, fully taking in and very much appreciating her wet and fit physique.

"Oh, it's nothing! I'm only doing my duties." Frey giggled, embarrassed as her cheeks tinted pink. "But other than that, how come you guys aren't in your swimsuits? It's boiling!" She frowned worriedly.

"Why, is milady that eager to see me in all my glory?" Leon purred, standing in front of her in a flash. His teal eyes sparkled mischievously, as one of his hands reached forward to run his fingers through her long hair. "If you want to see me that badly, I'd rather 'perform' a private show for you tonight~"

Frey became as red as a ruby, opening and closing her mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water. She tried to speak, but no words came out as she could only stare up with eyes as wide as dinner plates at an amused Leon who was enjoying this situation far too much.

"Oi, knock it off!" Dylas growled, wrapping a protective arm around Frey as he glared sharply at Leon. "She's gonna go fishing with me after she's done, anyways!"

"WHAT?! No fair, you can't hog her all to yourself! If you guys are going fishing then I'm going, too!" Doug huffed, snatching Frey away from Dylas.

"No way, you dumbass dwarf! You're not invited!"

"Well, I am now, you fucking nag!"

As the two handsome idiots bickered like an old married couple and fought over Frey, she could only release an exasperated sigh. Honestly, she loved them both, but there was really no use trying to talk any sense into them. The best anyone could do was just wait it out until they inevitably get tired.

But as Doug and Dylas were yanking Frey from one side to another like a ragdoll, they suddenly stopped. It seems that everyone else halted, too, and the air blew bitter cold. Frey, oblivious, could only raise a brow before she finally realized--or more like felt--what all the boys were staring at.

She looked down, Doug and Dylas' hands accidentally cupping each one of Frey's breasts. All of the boys were a thousand shades of crimson, and Vishnal even started to have a nosebleed.

"ACK! S-Sorry..!" Doug and Dylas exclaimed in unison, abruptly pulling their hands away as if they were burned.

"O-Oh, uh, it's f-fine..!" Frey stuttered, not being able to meet anyone's gaze. "I-It was just an accident, after all!"

"Are you sure you're alright, Frey?" Kiel asked, holding her hands into his gently as he studied her face in concern. "These lowlifes didn't hurt you, did they?" It was rare for Kiel to be angry let alone badmouthing anyone, but it was clear from his tone how upset he was. Honestly, Doug and Dylas were a little scared...

"Y-Yes, I'm alright!" Frey nodded vigorously, smiling brightly. "Seriously, guys, don't worry about me! I'll see you all later, okay?" She hurriedly gave each one of them a chaste peck on the cheek before making her way back to the castle.

"So..." Leon began, a fake smile plastered on his lips as his eyes held no emotion. "I wonder who the true perverts are now?"

"H-Hey, it was an accident! Besides, it's all this moron's fault!" Dylas retorted, pointing an accusatory finger at Doug.

"MY fault?! If you just invited me in the first place, none of this would've happened!" Doug shouted furiously.

"You guys...touched...the princess' b-b-breasts..." Vishnal muttered, totally lost in his own world as he was slowly deteriorating from existence.

"Oh, my..." Arthur let out a heavy exhale. "I'm sure you two already know this, but as soon as Frey is done with her tasks then you both must apologize to her again. Accident or not, it is completely unacceptable for a man to touch a woman without her consent."

"Hey, y'know, I've been wondering..." Kiel cut in. "Do you guys ever think if Frey is just being strung along by us?"

"What do you mean?" Doug frowned.

"Like, didn't we confess to Frey at different times? And at every confession, she rejected all of us. And later on, it was only then we found out that we all shared the same feelings for her."

"So, what's your point?" Dylas pressed.

Kiel sighed, staring pointedly at the taller man. "Don't you find it a bit weird that now, we're all in a relationship with her? I know that being in a polyamorous relationship with Frey was something we all consented on from the very beginning, but why the sudden change of heart?"

"Isn't it obvious? Being in a polyamorous relationship means that Frey likes all of us at the same time, which is fine. Maybe she was just too shy at first to admit it." Leon shrugged.

"That may be true, or...what if she's only with us out of pity?" A wave of realization washed through everyone, and a certain pang of sadness settled in their hearts. "Frey is such a nice person, it's possible she only agreed to be with us since she felt bad for rejecting us. And now, she doesn't know how to break up with us for fear of hurting us even more."

"There's also one other possibility..." Arthur spoke up. "What if she actually likes one of us, but can't exclusively date that person?"

Dead silence. Only the faint sounds of the lake thrashing and birds chirping, before Vishnal was the one who first woke up back to reality.

"So... What are we supposed to do?" He questioned softly. "I feel so terrible... If what you're saying is true, then I don't want to continue on like this. I love Frey, but I can't ever bear the thought of hurting her!"

"How about a game?" Leon suggested.

"Now's really not the time, foxy." Doug rolled his eyes.

"No, no. You've misunderstood." Leon shook his head. "I'm talking about a game to see who Frey truly likes or doesn't like. And that way, we won't have to be hurting her and suffering like this anymore."

"Hmm... An interesting proposition." Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "I don't quite like referring to this as a 'game', but colour me intrigued. What's your idea, then?"

"Alright. So, we each get one whole day to spend with Frey. Completely alone, and no one is allowed to bother anyone else. As long as Frey is okay with it, then we can do whatever we want with her. Going on dates, exploring...you get the idea. Finally, by the end of the week, we'll all ask her how she feels and who she had the most fun with. Her answer will then determine what will happen afterwards."

"Hmph. Okay, that sounds good." Dylas nodded, agreeing for once. "How can we settle who goes first and last, though?"

"I think it would only be fair if we go in the order that Frey met us. So it's Vishnal, me, Doug, Arthur, Dylas, and then Leon." Kiel offered.

"All in favour?" Arthur asked, and everyone collectively voiced out their approval. "Good. It's settled, then. May the best man win!"

"Speaking of, I forgot that the castle is undergoing construction! So please excuse me, I'll have to get going now!" Vishnal grinned, disappearing in a blink of an eye.

"Wait... I just visited Ventuswill earlier with Granny Blossom." Doug furrowed his brows before gasping. "That bastard..! He went to go have a headstart with Frey!" He immediately chased after the conniving butler, but not before his shoulder got bumped hard by Dylas.

"If anyone's gonna get a headstart, it's me!"

"Oh, shut the hell up, HORSIE!"

Arthur sighed deeply, rubbing his temples stressfully as Kiel only chuckled sheepishly. Leon simply watched the scene, his fan hiding his smirk.

'There is a saying: Save the best for last~' Leon thought satisfyingly to himself.

[beclynn-herondale]

In Another Universe: Chapter 6 - The Bone City

Clar dreamed one of a place that seemed out of a fairy tale, there was apparently a ball, it wasn't a ball room them but it was beautiful, there was a fountain with a mermaid, and there were people dancing everywhere. he turned his head and saw Simone at his shoulder, she said. "Do you find someone else more interesting?." suddenly they were dancing, He looked at her closely and realized she was beautiful. There were Alec and Isidore, holding hands like hansel and gretel, both in royal blue. "Welcome, welcome to the Glass City," said a voice that was not Simone's. He realized she was gone and he was now dancing with Jayce, she was in a slim cut dress that was slit with a v in the front, it was a amber gold, it went perfectly with her short golden curls shining in the light, her deep tawny beige skin and golden eyes, she was so beautiful, he wanted to paint her, darker and lighter shades of gold. He took another moment and stared at her. and as they were dancing he realized she was short, he knew but her personality always made her seem bigger than she was, now as they were dancing he realized, he suddenly felt a strange urge to want to protect or hold her tight. But instead he said "Where's Simone?"

she looked at him and replied. "This place is for those who are alive." her hands were cold, and felt different on Clar than Simone's had. He was very aware of them.

He looked closely at her. "What do you mean?"

She stood up on her tiptoes, leaned in, her lips against his ear. "Wake up, Clar," she whispered. "Wake up. Wake up."

-

He bolted up right, he was sweating, and someone held his wrists in an iron grip, he was going to pull away, then he realized who it was. "Jayce?"

"Yes." she was there on the edge his bed looking half awake, her hair messy and she had sleepy eyes.

"Let go of me," he said

"Sorry," she said and let go. "You almost hit me the second I called your name."

"I'm jumpy, I guess."

He looked around the room, by the way the light was coming in it looked to be dawn, it lit the dark room slightly.

"What time is it?"

"Five."

"in the morning?" he said. "Why are you waking me up?"

"What were you having a great dream or something?"

He thought back to it. "I don't remember."

She got up. "One of the Silent Brothers is here. Hodge said to get you up. Actually, he was going to wake you himself but I figured since it's 5 in the morning you would want something lovely to stare at."

"You mean you?"

"What else would I mean?" she said with a smirk.

"I didn't agree to see them."

"Do you want to know where your mother is," she said. "Or no?"

He sighed

"Listen, all you have to do is meet brother Jeremiah," she said. "Besides, he's funny for a guy who never talks."

"Hey, Jayce," he said

"Yeah?"

"You're short," he told her

She looked stunned. "What!?"

"I said your short," he repeated. "Also get out I got to change."

She went out, he laughed to himself, she looked so surprised by that.

After he got changed, Jayce led him to where the Silent Brother was, surprisingly she was fairly silent, he hoped he hadn't made her to upset.

"Listen about what I said about you being short I was just teasing."

"Huh?," she said. "Please you don't think you actually bothered me?"

He supposed even if he had upset her she wouldn't admit to it.

"Yeah, I guess not," he said.

"How tall are you anyway?" he asked. "Isidore and Alec are both really tall."

She turned her head to look at him. "I'm 5'4, not that it matters my size has nothing to do with what I can do."

"I suppose that's true," he said. "Though it's kinda cute."

"What?"

"I said it's kinda cute."

"I am not cute."

She glared at him, he actually found that kinda cute itself, but wondered when he started to think Jayce was cute, when did she start to amuse him more than annoy him?, he gave her a sweet smile at her to add to it.

She turned away and led him to the library.

And when he went in, there was a man in parchment like robes, he assumed that was the Silent Brother, he saw that Church the cat was pacing in circles looking nervous and muttering to himself

"What's with the cat? Why is he pacing?"

"The Silent Brothers make him nervous."

"I think they make everyone nervous."

--

The library was dark, which only made it all more creepy, Hodge got up from the desk and walked up to the Silent Brother

"This," said Hodge. "Is Clarus Fray, the boy I told you about." then Hodge turned to Clar. "Clar this is Brother Jeremiah of the Bone City."

"Hello," was all Clar said, he looked closely at Brother Jeremiah as he approached, he had runes carved into his face, his lips were stiched up, his eyes looked permanently shut. No wonder Jayce called them creepy he thought, he felt chills down his spine.

"I decided that you were right, Jayce. and sent word to the Silent City," said Hodge

"I usually am right," said Jayce.

Hodge ignored her. "However the memories are Clar's only he can decide if he wants to do this."

Clar didn't say anything, Madame Dorothea said he had a block in his mind and he wanted to know why.

"This is Jocelyn's son?," said Jeremiah.

"Yes," said Hodge.

"You knew my mother?" he asked.

"The Clave keeps records.of all Shadowhunters, Dead and Alive," said Brother Jeremiah.

"Well maybe you should find a better way of keep record, cause my mom isn't dead, maybe you would actually know who I'd dead and who isn't," said Clar.

"My father died, I don't need any other way to know that," said Jayce.

"Clarus Fray," said the voice in his head, it was like telepathy. "I am here to help you retrieve the memories that are locked in your head, we can learn much if you agree."

After more talking and discussing, Clar agreed, when Jeremiah was digging through his head, it felt like it would burst, it was painful, just cold and snow.

"That's enough," called Jayce. "It's hurting him now."

"Jayce," said Hodge.

"Look at his hands," she said

Brother Jeremiah had stopped. "The block is too strong for me to do anything here he needs to come to the Silent City, there my brothers can help me figure out what is causing this block."

He looked down seeing what Jayce meant, he had dug his finger nails into his palms and they were bleeding. so more mind stuff he thought.

"I'll go," he said. "To the Silent City, I want to find out what this is."

Jayce stared at him for a long moment.

"ok, I'll go with you," she said.

——————

"I don't like this Clar," said Alec, her and Iz were training.

"You don't like anyone new."

"I don't like change."

"Yeah, I mean Jayce is totally following him around like a Cat."

"That too, what is it with her and wanting to help this boy," said Alec irritated

"I don't know, but the way she looks at him when he isn't looking... I've never seen Jayce look at someone like that," said Isidore.

Alec was not the type who liked new people in the institute, she preferred things to stay the way they are, and this boy was trouble and she knew it, why couldn't Jayce see this?

"Do you the Silent Brothers will actually find anything?" she asked her brother

"Maybe, but maybe not. I find it strange though, this memory block thing, if he's a Shadowhunter like us, than why does he have so much trouble and why can't he remember this stuff?"

"I have no idea, and I don't like it."

"Yeah, you said that."

Alec got lost in thought, and was snapped out of it by Iz using his whip to pull her off her feet.

"Isidore," she hissed

"Hahaha, that's what you get for not paying attention."

She untangled the whip from her feet and went over and jumped onto her brother, they whistled and she gentle pounded her fists in onto his head, they both started laughing.

——————

Joan had been here for a few months now, she was much stronger she had to admit but it was torture, punishment if she messed up, she started acknowledging Lilith as her mother, she would be punished if she didn't for that as well.

Joan already knew how to fight so well now too, some instructer her "Father" picked out drilled stuff into her head everyday, she trained till her body collapsed. Lilith was slowly getting her to use her demon blood more and she could swear her eyes go black every now and then, she wondered how she got here, how things could change so fast. Now she went through cruel and intense training everyday, she sometimes felt she wouldn't live but she always did.

She still didn't know where Clar was, her mom was having god knows what done to her, Valentine came to check on her once, and told her shit about their family and his Circle and about how it all went down, how her mother had fled and left him, couldn't blame her, he's insane.

Apparently her mother had used the help of a warlock to make it seem like Joan was there at home during the uprising, an illusion magic, and her father didn't know until after he had burned the bones of a father and his child, so that everyone thought they were dead. Sick is all she thought, but she saw her mother in a different way now, and though she loved her, she wished she had prepared her and Clar for this, maybe Joan wouldn't be suffering so much if she had.

Joan couldn't sleep so she opened her book about demons and read that, I have this blood in me, i am a monster she thought.

——————

So they headed out and waited for Brother Jeremiah to come and get them, Clar was already feeling the weight of today on him, why does this all have to be so exhausting

"Why do we have to wait for Brother Jeremiah? Does he not want to be seen with Shadowhunters?" He asked

"The Silent Brothers are Shadowhunters," said Jayce. Looking as cool as ever, he was annoyed by this.

"So is he getting his car or something?"

Jayce gave him a grin. "You could say that."

"I'd feel better if Hodge were coming."

"I can protect," She said.

"It's not that I need to be protected," he replied. "I need someone who can help me think through this all."

He realized he hadn't messaged Simone

"Oh! Simone," he said

"No, I'm Jayce," Jayce said. "Simone is the one with the bad fashion sense and kinda looks a  chipmunk."

"Shut up, will you," he said. "I was going to call her before I went to bed."

Jayce held her arms up to the sky like it would spilt open and heaven would be there, she was awfully dramatic he thought. "With everything that's going on you are worried about Chipmunk?"

"Don't call her that, she doesn't look like that."

"You're right, I have seen some rather attractive chipmunks," she said. "She is more like a rat."

"She does not look—"

"She's probably at home mooning over Isidore. Just wait for him to get bored."

"Is he likely to get bored?"

"Yes," she said thoughtfully

Maybe Isidore wouldn't, maybe he would see how Simone was and they would start dating but the idea didn't feel right.

He realized he had zoned out while Jayce was talking to him and said "What?" Not so kindly

"If you want my attention so bad surely there are other ways," she said. "That are less embarrassing."

"Sarcasm is the last refuge of the imaginatively bankrupt," he said.

"I can't help it , I use my rapier wit to hide my inner pain."

"Your pain will be outward if you don't get out of traffic," he said

"And here's our ride," Jayce said.

Brother Jeremiah took them to the Silent City in a carriage, though to the mundane it would look like a black car.

--

"So when I get this block out of my mind, glamours won't hurt so much to see through?" He asked

"Yup," she said.

She quotes a Blake quote at him, she loved poetry, she always thought it could describe the way you feel. He said something about a band

"I suppose though, you don't know much about music."

"Not except the occasional cries of the dead."

He gave her a look as if to say are you serious? But he didn't know how serious she was, Jayce had always been able to see ghosts and the cries they made were musical but sad.

"But I thought you knew Piano?"

"Nah, that was just me messing around," she told him. "My father insisted I learn to play at least one instrument, so I decided on the Piano." she had felt strangely drawn to the Piano when she was picking an instrument to learn.

"Your father sounds harsh."

"No, he wasn't at all," she said more sharply than intended. "He taught me everything I know about weapons and fighting, about demons, he taught me ancient languages and lore. He gave anything I wanted. books, weapons, horses, even a hunting falcon at a point."

Clar look to be deep in thought after that, she didn't know why she had even told him this, but it did feel nice to say.

"So you aren't going to tell Hodge about the men?" asked Clar

"no," she replied

"Why not?"

"Cause he'll know I'll want to kill Valentine."

"You want revenge for your father?"

"Not revenge, I want justice, to make it right. Killing ones fellow Shadowhunter is one of the worst crimes."

Eventually she went into explaining why it's wrong. "Downworlders aren't like demons because they are half human, they belong here, where as demons suck the life out of a world and leave it dry, there are many other worlds that have been destroyed by demons."

"There are other worlds?" he asked

"Yeah, in each one something is slightly different, for all we know I could be more attractive in one or I could even be a boy in one. I could be dead in one."

"So these other worlds are dead? Is that what you meant when you said that demons suck the life out?"

"Probably not all, there are most likely some that are still alive, but we have no way to get to them or to really know."

At that moment they were at the Silent City, they followed Brother Jeremiah down the steps, Clar was going on about grave yards and asking if Silent Brothers sleep, which she could only laugh at, he was odd she thought, curious, she liked it.

They saw the statue with the Mortal Cup and the Nephilim motto on it.

"And that is the motto of the Nephilim," she said.

"What does it mean?"

She gave him a grin. "Shadowhunters looking better in black than the widows of our of enemies since 1234."

"Jayce—"

"What it means," said Jeremiah. "The descent into hell is easy."

"Wow, that's so cheerful," said Clar.

They headed to the room where all the Silent Brothers gather for meetings, Jayce stood back as they told Clar to stand on the star and started going through his head.

After a moment of them going through his head, he fell to the floor, for the first time since she could remember a real sense of fear went through her.

She ran to him, and saw his arm was bleeding, she pulled her Stele out and placed the tip against his skin and drew an Iratze. helped him sit up.

"Here, let me," she said.

"Is the part like in the movies and books where you start ripping your clothes up to bandage me up?" he asked

"Geez, if you want me to rip my clothes off just ask," she said with a smirk.

She helped him up and helped him steady himself

"So did you find anything?" she asked.

"I have a name, I guess someone signed my mind," he said.

"What's the name?"

"Magna Bane."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"Ok, it's a start," she said.

"Let's go," she said. "I am sure we can find the way out on our own."

"No ," said Brother Jeremiah. "I will escort you out."

He led them out and after a bit they were outside, she looked up to the sky and said. "It's gonna rain."

"What?"

"I said it's gonna rain."

He looked up and frowned, it was cute, wait... Did she just say it was cute? No Jayce no, you aren't gonna think like this.

"Are we gonna take the carriage again," he asked looking at it tiredly.

"No," she said. "I hate them. let's get a cab."

Tag List: @khaleesiofalicante @chibi-tsukiko @spotsandclawsthings @magnus-the-maqnificent @replayfootsteps @simply-ellas-stuff @bookfast-at-tiffanys @my-archerboy @jazzkaurtheglorious

[101flavoursofweird]

For the ten line drabbles, would you do 20 for any combination of Kat, Ernest, and Sherl (either two of them or all three of them together)? Thank you!

[[Apologies, this ended up being more than ten lines and didn’t even include the quote, though it definitely inspired it! Thank you for giving me the chance to finally write a fic about my Sherl theory!]]

20. “If you feel safer with me being there, you know I will always be there.”

“Aurora, our messenger, do you wish for this human to be reborn as a beast?”

“Yes, please. He has brought a great deal of suffering upon the world and to the fabric of time. And he hurt the professor… Also, can you take away his memories, like you did for me?”

“We were able to accomplish that as you were an Azran golem—“

“I was a sentient being with a beating heart. Surely you can do this same for this man?”

“…Very well. We will grant your wish.”

—

Kat had gone out for dinner with her inspector brother and her chef sister, leaving Ernest and Sherl to ‘manage’ the agency by themselves. (Or rather, stall any clients until Kat got back.)

Sherl thought this would be the perfect time for a dognap, but then Pipstripes decided to switch on the television while he was dusting.

Uuugh, that stupid black box! Why did Kat have to bring it in here, and place it on the drawers right above Sherl’s bed? Why couldn’t she find another way entertain herself when it was raining cats and dogs outside?

Sherl covered his ears as the droning voice of a news reader came on.

“—on this day, seven years ago, that the St. Herald Hotel collapsed during one of the worst storms in British history—“

“Who cares what happened seven years ago?” Sherl groaned. “That’s... forty years ago for a dog...”

“Shush, Sherl,” Ernest said, his gaze glued to the television.

“—While the establishment had received five star ratings in the past, it was undergoing maintenance work at the time, making some rooms unstable—“

“That thing will rot your brain,” Sherl warned. You would never catch Sherl gawking at a screen.

He couldn’t see in full colour anyway...

For him, it was mainly grey with some shades of blue and yellow. Pinstripes stood out like a sore thumb with his waistcoat and his trousers. Sherl could distinguish Kat’s yellow coat and her hat, but her dress just looked... dull. (Kat had nearly thrown a fit when Sherl told her this.)

As far as Sherl could tell, the news reader was a lady with long blonde hair, a grey suit and a solemn expression.

“All of the hotel staff and guests were able to escape, expect for one—“

“Poor sod,” Sherl snorted.

“—Former Prime Minister, Bill Hawks.”

Sherl’s ears perked up. “Who?”

“Shhhhh!”

“Did she say Prime Minister?” Sherl persisted. He stumbled out of his bed to get a closer look at the T.V.— at the photo of the man the news people had put up.

He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, judging by his balding head, deep frown lines, droopy eyes and glasses... Sherl squinted, wondering if dogs could get glasses.

“Yes— from about twenty years ago,” Pinstripes informed him, frowning slightly. “If you listen, they’re going to talk about his life soon...”

Talk about him they did. Bill Hawks: Born in London, squeaked his way in to university, became a scientist at the Institute of Poly-something or other... until there was an explosion at the lab he worked in. An explosion, it turned out, that Hawks had caused with an experiment gone awry.

Sherl hummed. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“The... explosion?” Pinstripes fiddled with the end of his feather duster. “It sounds like something out of a sci-fi film, doesn’t it?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But it really did happen, over thirty years ago... and there were terrible repercussions ten years after. You might have heard Miss Layton discussing it...”

Sherl shook his head. He would have remembered if Kat had mentioned something like that. His short term memories were clear as crystal. It was his long term memories that were murky— at least, those prior to joining the Layton Detective Agency.

All he could remember from his past life was a tower falling down, and lightning flashing across the sky... but with each passing day, the details felt less precise and less important. Kat seemed to have given up on solving his case of amnesia altogether!

“Oh...” Pinstripes glanced out the window and back at Sherl. “Do you— surely you know about the Mobile Fortress attack? From a man called Clive Dove?”

For some reason, that name made Sherl shudder. Still, he answered, “No...”

“He tried to destroy London? There were crushed buildings and a gaping tear left in the ground?” Pinstripes said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It took them years to repair—“

“I might seem older than you kids,” Sherl interrupted, “but I can’t have been alive for more than six or seven years.” He was a ‘mature dog’ (according to the vet), but that couldn’t compare to a human lifespan. Kat’s grandmother, Rosa, was in her seventies!

Pinstripes waved his hand. “Right, sorry... Anyway, Clive Dove was put in prison— thanks to Miss Layton’s father— and he remains there to this day.”

“Good,” Sherl huffed. “Sounds like this Dove was barking!”

“That’s really not funny...”

“What made him go round the bend?”

Ernest winced. “He, um... he wanted to get revenge... because his parents died in that lab explosion.”

Sherl stuck out his teeth. “But if Bill Hawks was behind the explosion... then why didn’t Dove just go after him? Why take it out on everyone—?”

“I don’t know!” Ernest dropped the feather duster. He sighed heavily and crouched to pick it up. Turning his back on Sherl, he resumed his dusting around the television.

The news reader was exposing more about Bill Hawks; by sweeping his crimes under the rug and making shady deals, Hawks had climbed the political ladder to the very top.

Then he was kidnapped by one of his former scientist colleagues and taken to an underground fake ‘Future London’...

“So that’s what she meant...” Sherl breathed. When he’d first arrived at the agency, Kat had asked if he had a ‘letter from the future’. Had her father been sent such a letter?

Sherl’s heart pounded at the next part of the news report. Clive Dove had imprisoned Bill Hawks in the Mobile Fortress, using Bill’s heartbeat to power the machine... That was intense!

Fortunately for Hawks, Professor Layton had saved him and shut down the fortress.

After they all escaped, Hawks had ensured Dove was arrested, put on trial immediately, and locked up for life.

During Dove’s trial, however, Hawks’ disreputable past had been brought to light. Hawks wasn’t put behind bars, but he had to pay a lot of compensation money for the victims of the institute explosion and for the Mobile Fortress attack.

A clip from an interview was shown— a man from Barkleys Bank described Hawks’ loss of financial backers as his approval ratings dropped. (Poor Barkleys, having to represent Bill Hawks...)

Disgraced, Bill had resigned from his post as prime minister and disappeared from the public eye. His wife had divorced him and he had started mooching off his parents’ inheritance.

“Good-for-nothing fat-cat...” Sherl grumbled. You wouldn’t catch his pups leeching off their families like that. When Kat’s father went missing, she had set up a detective agency. When Ernest’s mother died, he had worked his way up to university— and taken an unpaid job on top of that!

Sherl hoped there were assassination attempts made on Hawks’ life after everything he had done.

But no... It seemed that the world had forgotten about Bill Hawks as soon as he left office.

By all accounts, his death at the St. Herald Hotel had been deemed an accident. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, asleep when the roof above him collapsed.

“...Did he wake up in unbearable pain or did he die peacefully in his sleep?” the news reader lady pondered.

“Oh, come on, woman!” At this point, Sherl was standing on his hind legs with his paws pressed up against the television screen. “I need to know! That skid mark deserved to suffer—!”

“We may never know for certain,” the news reader went on, smiling impassively. “But some might say that justice was served on that day... Thank you for listening! And now, over to Puzzlette for the pollen report...”

“Waste of time...” Sherl flounced away from the television and looked around. He spotted the T.V. remote on the settee. “Turn it off, will you, Pinstripes?”

With a huff, Pinstripes turned off the television. He tossed the remote back on to the settee.

Sherl flicked his tail. “What’s got you so hot under the collar?”

“N-nothing...” Pinstripes crossed his arms as if he was trying to contain something in his chest. Whatever it was— anger, grief or uneasiness— Sherl reckoned Pinstripes wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. (He had broken down the minute Kat accused him of being Lord Adamas.)

“You might as well tell me,” Sherl prompted. “Kat’s out, and it’s not like anyone else can hear...”

Sherl prided himself on being a good secret-keeper. He hadn’t told Kat about Pinstripes’ crush, besides a few snide remarks. He hadn’t turned that street dog, Yapper, over to the pound. And he hadn’t ratted out that mouse who would occasionally nip in to steal Kat’s food...

Pinstripes whispered, “You... you can’t tell Miss Layton. She and her family would hate me...”

“Is it worse than what you did at Richmond Court?” Sherl asked. He made a furtive glance at the door.

“N-no!” Ernest exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch. “It doesn’t even involve me directly... but it does involve... one of my family members.”

Sometimes, Sherl was glad that he couldn’t remember his relatives. He didn’t have to deal with any of that family drama— unless Kat and Ernests’ issues counted as drama.

“Just spit it out,” Sherl growled.

“I... I’m related to Bill Hawks,” Ernest burst out. “Distantly!”

After all the cases Sherl had solved with Kat, that wasn’t too surprising to hear. Sherl cocked his head to the side. “How ‘distant’ are we talking?” He had heard that a lot of Europe’s royal families were related. Did it work the same way with lords and politicians?

“Quite distant... He was my grandfather’s second cousin!” With the cat finally out of the bag, Ernest sighed shakily. He sank on to the settee and tucked his knees under his chin, pulling himself into a tight ball. He looked more like a child than a lanky young man, but then again, he was only nineteen. That was still young by human standards.

“Pinstripes...” Sherl murmured when he heard sniffling. Sherl padded over to the settee and jumped up beside him.

“P-please don’t tell Miss Layton,” Ernest repeated with a whimper. “I nearly— she let me stay... even after what I did. I don’t want to— to hurt her again...”

Knowing Kat, she had probably already discovered the connection between Ernest and Bill Hawks.

It was possible that she had figured out Sherl’s identity as well, but she was keeping quiet. Honestly... Sherl didn’t really mind at that moment.

What would he do if he knew about his past? Track down his family? Would they even be able to understand him? And what if he had left his loved ones on bad terms? He would struggle to make amends with them, and they might be even more upset.

It wasn’t like he could return to his old job, either... unless it involved police work, assisting people with disabilities, or herding sheep. There was always performing— who didn’t love a good dog act?  

But even then, it would be lonely if he couldn’t communicate with anyone.

At least if he stayed here, at the Layton Detective Agency, he could make a difference. He would do his best to help their clients... as well as Ernest and Kat.

Sherl curled up next to Ernest on the settee. After a while, Ernest’s sniffs stopped and he started stroking Sherl’s head.

Maybe one day they would find a way to transform animals into humans... but until then, Sherl didn’t mind being a detective’s dog. There were fates far worse than this.

[cyclopstm]

                         DISABILITY && MENTAL HEALTH

This post will cover items such as disabilities, mental health, PTSD and trauma in relation to Scott. These are things which are either canon for him, or headcanons I want to pay more attention to on my blog.

I do not have any personal experience with any of the items I will address in this post, which means that most (if not all) of my information is gained through reading and research online. If there are items I missed out on or have described incorrectly, you may contact me about this to kindly help me figure out a new/better way to put things into words. It’s in no way my intention to upset anyone, or bring forth wrong information.

To me, it just feels like Scott is a good opportunity to improve the representation of characters and people who deal with visual impairment because the narrative that disability is binary caused that most blind characters in popular media have no vision at all. Blind characters in heroic roles like Daredevil, have powers that completely compensate for their blindness while blind people who don’t have these compensations are usually portrayed as helpless.

As a team leader and a superhero, Scott offers a good opportunity to include people who are visually impaired, yet often ignored or left out of the heroic narrative.

Needless to say, do NOT reblog this post && don’t interact with it if you’re not a RP blog.

                                             _____________________________

TABLE OF CONTENTS : 1. Scott’s brain trauma and injury 2. Scott’s PTSD during his youth 3. Symptoms and signs of PTSD for Scott 4. Scott is (legally) blind 5. Scott cannot distinguish colours 6. How Scott deals with his visual impairment 7. The X-Mansion and dealing with trauma 8. Additional notes

                                      ________________________

1. SCOTT’S BRAIN TRAUMA AND INJURY When Scott was a young boy, he went on a travel with his parents and his little brother Alex. The family’s private jet was ambushed by an alien Shi’ar scouting ship. The boys lost their parents on that unfortunate day and in the crash, Scott took a hit to the head after his mutant powers manifested for the first time and allowed Scott to break his fall and allow him and Alex to survive. The head injury Scott suffered on that day would permanently disable the part of Scott’s brain which would have enabled him to control his optic blasts. Additionally, Scott (as well as Alex) suffered traumatic amnesia regarding the accident. Unlike his brother, Scott was forced to remain hospitalized for up to a year.

As a teenager, Scott began to suffer from severe headaches and he was sent to a specialist (Mr. Sinister in disguise) who provided him with lenses made of ruby-quartz. Scott’s mutant power erupted from his eyes as an uncontrollable blast of optic force and the only means to control it ever since have been the ruby-quartz lenses Sinister gave him. Sinister knew the lenses would help due to experiments and research he had been doing on the boy while Scott lived at the orphanage where Sinister had feigned being the owner.

2. SCOTT’S POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER DURING HIS YOUTH After losing his parents and waking up alone at the hospital after the plane crash, Scott was placed in the State Home for Foundlings, an orphanage in Omaha (Nebraska) where he was subjected to batteries of tests and experiments by the orphanage’s owner, Mr. Milbury (alias, Mr. Sinister). He placed mental blocks on Scott and took on the role of ‘Lefty’, who was Scott’s roommate and bully at the orphanage. During his time spent at the orphanage, Scott was subjected to several occasions which would leave him traumatized — such as the attempt of one of the other orphaned boys at taking his own life, and Scott’s failed attempt at saving him. Any time anyone came close to adopting Scott, Sinister intervened.

At some point, Scott demolished a crane with his optic blast, by accident. He had saved a crowd of people by using his blast again to destroy the crane before it would crush the people, but they believed he was out to kill them and chased the young mutant boy. Scott woke the attention of a mutant criminal who sought to use Scott’s powers in his crimes, but abused the kid when Summers refused. At that time, he had also attracted the attention of Charles Xavier who tracked down Scott and took him in as the first of his team of X-Men...

3. SYMPTOMS OF SCOTT’S PTSD — Reliving the traumatic event (during his childhood) :: as a boy, Scott was fond of airplanes and dreamed of becoming a pilot himself one day. But when he was taken to an air show by one of the orphanage’s nurses, he had a violent traumatic reaction in the middle of the show, reciting things he otherwise doesn’t consciously remember. — Negative Thoughts and Feelings :: Scott often deals with feelings of anger, guilt, fear or numbness. He’s prone to blame himself for things going wrong on missions with the X-Men. When someone comes to pass, he’s quick to take up responsibility and the blame for it, and occasionally even deals with survivor’s guilt. Scott also feels cut off from his friends and family and hardly keeps much interest for day-to-day activities. He hardly does them to relax, but rather only when they become necessary. — Avoidance :: Scott feels like he has to keep busy at all times, he doesn’t want to think or talk about anything in relation to his past, feels emotionally cut off from his feelings, struggles to express his emotions or affection towards others and thus comes across as numb and cold and very serious and occasionally does risky things which could be self-destructive or reckless. He’s often the first in line to sacrifice himself for the X-Men not only because he’s their leader, but also because he has little to no value for his own life. — Disturbed sleep and lack of sleep. — Taking risks and hypervigilance. — Intrusive thoughts. — Nightmares. — Trust issues. — “No one understands.”-mentality. — The sense of never being at peace.

4. SCOTT IS (LEGALLY) BLIND While Scott was born with perfectly normal eyesight, and perfect vision, he no longer has the ability to see without his ruby-quartz lenses ever since his optic blasts came to manifest. Only ruby-quartz can keep the optic blasts under control, meaning that any other means of vision such as regular glasses or lenses would not be of help for Scott. Scott literally can’t see without his ruby-quartz shades. Opening his eyes would prove incredibly destructive to his nearest surroundings.

Someone who is completely blind can’t see any light or form. Of the people with eye disorders, only about 15% can see nothing at all. If you’re legally blind, you can still see, just not that clearly. Normal vision is 20/20. That means you can clearly see an object 20 feet away. If you’re legally blind, your vision is 20/200 or less in your beter eye or your field of vision is less than 20 degrees.

In addition to being unable to distinguish colors due to the red tint in his glasses, they also reduce his low-light vision, which means Scott deals with low vision.

5. SCOTT CANNOT DISTINGUISH COLOURS I’m not using the term colorblindless in this post for the main reason that Google gives me too many search results in relation to racism, and I do not intend to use a term that has a double meaning that could be taken the wrong way.

Scott’s ruby-quartz lenses cause him to see the world through a veil of red. The lenses are tinted in red which alters Scott’s general, every day perception of the world. He sees the world in shades of grey, white, black and red and can no longer distinguish any other colours. Maybe rather than ‘colourblindness’, Scott deals with something alike to monochromacy. Though, Scott’s monochromacy is perhaps not of a kind that has been officially diagnosed in real life cases before.

The comics and movies rarely acknowledge Scott’s eyesight aside from him claiming to have an ‘eye condition’ as an excuse for him to wear sunglasses all the time. Scott’s adaptations to being unable to distinguish different colours would be mostly rather subtle and maybe it doesn’t inherently add onto the story a comic book or movie wants to tell, but they shouldn’t be ignored in how I wish to bring Scott in my writing...

6. HOW SCOTT DEALS WITH HIS VISUAL IMPAIRMENT — High contrast text and browser extensions for reading. — Color coding his outfits. He labels them with what color they are and organizes his closet by items that go together. — As a prodigy at billiards, Scott has a special billiards set adjusted to his specific needs. — Large prints for letters, books, digital fonts, etc. — Increased brightness on any of his devices’ screens. — Assistance from ‘self-driving’ tech when flying the Blackbird or riding his motorcycle. He knows the majority of controls through muscle memory by now. — Assistive technology to improve contrast, especially at night. — Scott owns a touch-based Rubik’s Cube. — Help from his closest friends.

7. THE X-MANSION AND DEALING WITH TRAUMA Scott and Ororo both (among others), are hyper aware of the traumas some of their students have experienced. They recognize behaviours and reactions in trauma survivors because they have been in such a position themselves as well. They made sure the school has a clear set of rules and policies on the safety and comfort of students. The school faculty received training in mental health first aid, there’s places students can retreat to when they feel anxious or suffer from power meltdown.

People like Scott, Jean and Rogue would know how to handle students who have gone through different types of abuse. As trauma survivors themselves, they’d take extra steps to reassure students who have every reason to distrust adults. They would announce themselves when approaching students from behind, maintain wide personal space bubbles and refrain from initiating physical contact such as hugs or touching students without asking them first. They see there’s no use in raising your voice to the kids, and won’t tollerate any kind of jokes about trauma. Scott is rumoured to be very strict on the rules of the house concerning mental health.

8. ADDITIONAL NOTES While Scott is aware that there is no shame in any of what he deals with every day, he still keeps it under wraps a lot. He doesn’t ever want for his visual impairment or his trauma to become his only and main personality trait other people associate with him. This is why a lot of people may not even know that he is dealing with these things on the daily. He’s very subtle about everything and only those who get to know him better may begin to see and notice things which indicate that he’s disabled. Scott has grown so adjusted to living with his disabilities that they commonly no longer cause him trouble.

The only people who know Scott is visually impaired because he told them himself are Charles (confidant and father-figure), Jean (lover, the person he maybe trusts more than anyone else), Hank (as the resident scientist), Ororo (as his fellow team leader) and Emma Frost (as his therapist).

Scott has been able to take therapy sessions with Charles during his early years, and later on with Emma Frost. Jean has also helped him an incredibly great deal on coping with his trauma and PTSD, lack of self-esteem and dealing with his emotions and expressing them more openly.

To this day, Scott still suffers from migraines and occasional moments of memory loss. His brain injury does not always allow him to maintain or store knowledge accurately. His migraines are a result of his optic blast building up surplus energy. When Scott can’t use his optic blast regularly, he will build up a surplus energy which manifests into migraines.

[levisnackajack]

The Wrath of War

Chapter Seventeen

“We’ll get through this,” Eren had said, pulling his friends into a tight, group hug. Eden nodded, the muffled voices around her slowly slowly becoming sharper and clearer. 

Where was she?

“You, Mikasa, Eden and I. We’ll join the Scout Regiment and fight for the sea. We’ll fight for the taste of freedom. And then when that day comes, we’ll sit together and reminisce about all the tough times we’ve gone through just to get to that moment,” Armin replied softly as they pulled away. 

Each child had a flame in their eyes. Two pairs of crystal blue eyes, a duo of onyx jewels as well as another pair of honey-colored eyes that glinted with a shade of emerald. After the horrors they had witnessed that day in Shiganshina; the deaths that had cracked through each crevice of their bones; they had vowed to fight until death grabbed their hand. 

Eden felt drowsy as the world around her slowed down and the faces of her friends grew blurry. She looked around to see the atmosphere change, those distant voices that rang at the back of her mind growing more realistic. 

“Hey, Eden, I brought you an apple. Well, honestly, Connie made me give it up. I actually really wanted to eat that apple...-” 

Slap

“Ouch, sorry. Scratch that, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just joking, hehe,” Sasha rambled on, rubbing her arm as she rolled her eyes at Connie’s irked stare. 

Velveteen lashes fluttered opened gradually; the immediate light burning her pupils. Eden hissed, shutting her eyes once more as she came to her senses at a dreadfully slow pace. She caught sight of the familiar layout vividly resembling the medical quarters situated at their base. 

Two light gasps bounced through the air. Her bed shifted under moving weight and once she took a deep breath; Eden managed to open one eye. 

Sasha and Connie stared at her through comically wide eyes. The girl blinked slowly at them, raising a weak hand to touch her pounding temple. 

“What...happened?” 

The duo exchanged glances and Sasha swallowed thickly. Connie bounced on his heels before clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You got severely injured on the battlefield. Safe to say, you were this close to being squeezed to death,” Connie pinched his fingers together, indicating the lack of space between his index and his thumb finger. “You’ve been out cold for the past couple of days, on IV’s and stuff, I don’t know.” 

Eden tried sitting up, but the weight of her tattered body pleaded her to remain still. “What do you mean I’ve been ‘out cold for the past couple of days’? What about Armin? He was with me, is he okay? And the rest, where are they?” The words trickled out through her lips like a mellow waterfall. 

Sasha sent her a wary smile, placing her hand over hers against the warm blanket. “Everyone from our team is healthy and safe. Unfortunately, we can’t say the same about Hange’s squad. She lost a couple of her comrades during the battle.” She lowered her eyes as she spoke, bottom lip quivering. 

Eden let go of a slow sigh, the movement causing her lungs to burn up and swell against her heart. She palmed the fabric of her blanket in between her fingers. “Shit. Was the mission a failure then? Did we manage to secure the sighting hotspot?” 

Both of her comrade-friends shook their heads glumly. Connie spoke up.

“We came back to help Hange’s team after seeing that separation would only make things worse. Captain Levi shot the final flare at the sight of literally a dozen titans heading our way. We just didn’t have enough manpower to push through all of them; especially since your team was already completely ambushed. No one expected it to be that bad...” 

Eden stayed silent as she tried to process his words. Her brain racked against her skull as she thought about all the pain and suffering her fallen comrades had experienced right before their lives were ripped out of their bodies by the vile, humanoid creatures. It made her blood boil and her lip quiver. 

“How did you manage to pull me out of the titan’s grasp? I can’t remember much except how peaceful I began feeling when I finally closed my eyes...I thought I was dead...”

“We’re so happy you’re not, Eden. What happened was...-”

“Excuse me, leave the poor girl to rest,” the familiar voice of the assigned nurse made her two friends jump out of their skin. She ushered them both out in an irritated voice before walking back to Eden. 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with me? When can I join my team back on the field...-”

“Not anytime soon, dear. You should be grateful you’re not currently six-feet under. Your lungs collapsed due to the pressure, so you’ll be sticking to bedrest for the time being until it gets better. Don’t look at me like that, I told you, it could’ve been worse. There was some internal bleeding that we stopped once you arrived, what else...ah yes, you’re lucky...this time, you managed to fracture just two ribs!” The nurse told her, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she spoke. 

Eden refrained from the need to roll her eyes at her and involuntarily winced instead at the sudden pains in her chest. The medic assured her that this would happen often until her internal organs heal with the help of medication, rest and the will to live. 

 Deep down, through all the trauma her body underwent that day; Eden’s mind was fixed on one tiny thought that seemed to devour her entire soul; would Captain Levi come and visit her? 

The day’s hours quickly trickled by as Eden spent it dealing with constant visits, naps and by sulking and glaring at the ceiling. She begged the nurse to give her something to numb the pain; but the older woman had assured her that she will do so after dinner.

Eden didn’t even have enough energy to snap back at her. 

The sun began settling, bringing in a warm, orange shade into the infirmary. The rays grazed against Eden’s blanket, caressing her skin softly as her body began to ache. Mikasa had just left, bidding her a good night after helping Eden bathe.

The injured girl felt like such a nuisance and begged her friend multiple times to leave, stating she could manage on her own. But Mikasa being Mikasa; never left her side. Her nurse finally injected her with a large dose of painkillers, assuring her that they would stop the pain for at least a couple of long hours. She had also told her that they would make her feel sleepy and droopy. Eden merely nodded and thanked her for the medication.

Now, tightly wrapped up in her warm duvet, the charcoal-haired girl counted the each clock tick; completely bored out of her mind. She didn’t feel like the medicine had kicked in yet; but the nurse had reassured her that it could take some time for them to kick in and knock her out. Her eye twitched at the sound of the door gently opening. 

A tender smile crept up on her face as he made his way towards her bed. 

“Hi, Jeanie-boy,” she greeted him softly, tilting her head towards him against the pillow. 

His expression was strained and that remained intact when he sent her a smile, pulling her hand into his. “Hi, darling. How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve been better, but I’ll manage. Can’t get rid of me that quickly now, can you?” 

He let go of a gentle huff, his thumb rubbing circles against her soft skin. Eden bit her lip, brows lacing together slightly. He remained silent, staring down at their interlinked fingers.

“Something is wrong. Talk to me,” she urged him gently, squeezing his hand with her palm. 

Jean pursed his lips tightly; clenching his jaw tightly as contemplation painted against his tense face. “Do you remember what happened...that day?” 

Eden’s own expression grew more rigid as she tried her best to call back any memories she had. She released an exasperated sigh, sinking deeper into the pillow. 

“I’m sorry Jean. I really can’t remember much. My horse threw me off the saddle; Armin came back for me...we ran towards the horses and then a titan just grabbed me. That’s all I recall.”

Jean bit his lip before running a hand across his face; shifting against her mattress. She watched him silently, afraid that if she pushed him; he’d snap at her. And she wanted Jean to open up on his own terms. 

“I feel like I can’t really do this anymore, Eden.” 

Her almond eyes grew larger, lips parting in wonder. “Can’t do what, Jean? What’s going on?” 

The boy only shook his head in response, eyes betraying how deep in thought he was. Eden’s heart clenched uneasily. 

“I can’t just share you. It’s not right and I don’t feel good knowing I can’t have you all to myself.” 

His confession hung in the air heavily. Jean watched her carefully as she tried understanding his words. But, to no avail. 

“I-I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” 

Jean pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “You’ll understand what I’m telling you on your own terms. I’m sorry it has to go down this way. You mean so much to me, Chiasa. And I can fully understand the situation you’re in right now. The confusion and all. I’ve been in that position. Which is why I’m trying to help you make things easier- even if nothing makes sense to you right now.”

Eden placed her other hand over his, grazing the skin on the back of his palm reassuringly. She listened intently to each word; feeling her heart crack just a little bit.

“I don’t want to lose you, Jean.”

The boy made a face, leaning in closer towards the resting girl. “Psh, who said anything about losing anyone? There’s no way in hell you’ll lose me, Eden; you can trust me on that. Otherwise, you can write a letter to my mother and tell her how embarrassed I was when she sent me that stuffed plush bear and you were the one who caught me with it.” 

The memory made Eden laugh, her eyes crinkling at the edges as Jean’s own brown eyes twinkled down at her. 

“That’s a deal.” 

Jean leaned in closer, pressing his warm, plush lips against Eden’s forehead. She closed her eyes, taking in his scent that seemingly overwhelmed her entirely. Everything with him was so cozy, definite and practically perfect. It was such a stark juxtaposition to the feelings the man with steely, blank eyes sparked within her. 

“But, just because I’ve decided to let you go now, does not mean I will not keep trying,” he muttered when pulling away. Eden sent him a toothy grin that was masked with a layer of grimness once her question slammed against her brain.

“Can you tell me what happened after I blacked out?” 

Jean’s eyes darkened as he looked down at their hands. He gritted his teeth, craning his neck to the side before meeting her curious gaze. 

“I...I was the one who saved you.” He hesitated for a moment, but continued nevertheless. “When all went to shit and the Captain shot the terminated mission flare; I made my way back to you. I don’t know what it was, but I just knew that something was wrong. I found Armin charging at the bastard that had grabbed you, aiming for its wrist tendon but...I managed to slice its nape seconds before you were going to land in its mouth. It was a miracle, really. If I was even a millisecond late; you would have...died.” 

Eden felt like the air was knocked out of her bruised lungs. She looked away, realization creeping down her spine as she thought back to how close she was to death. Only to be saved and gifted with another chance at life. She suppressed a yawn, her lids growing heavier.

Jean released an empty, humorless laugh; shaking his head at the memories that flashed before his eyes. “And then, when I got to you...you said his name.” He stood abruptly, gently laying Eden’s hand back against the softness of the duvet as she watched him sleepily; her mind overpowered by the drug previously injected into her bloodstream to tend to the pains. 

She was drowning in so many questions, but felt like she didn’t have enough time to answer them for herself. She called for Jean gently; earning a sweet, supple smile from the boy as he gazed down at her. His head snapped towards the entrance and immediately, his expression contorted into one filled with deep-rooted vexation. 

“Out of everyone within the walls; why him?” Jean muttered under his breath- a question devoted more to himself rather than the dazed girl on the brink of slumber. He bid her a good night and went his separate way.

Eden groaned in response, her lids completely slipping shut by the time the sound of approaching boots had reached her ears. 

Tags: @idiot-juice-enthusiast   @hadassackerman

Thank you for all the support!! xx

Link to the story in AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919136/chapters/70952145

[twokinkybeans]

Company - Chapter 1: Samhain

Moodboard made by Kim <3

“I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this  and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help  of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask  them to.” “A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?” “Sort of,yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his  knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ says. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible. Or: May's health is deteriorating fast and Peter is running out of  options (and money), so he goes into the woods at night on Halloween to find a Fae willing to help him out. ____________________________________________

Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of chronic/incurable illness, blood, etc. Magic and folklore. Slow burn with resolved sexual tension. Lots of mischief, a bit of spooks and of course fluff, angst and smut.

Go to the Masterpost Read Company - Chapter 1: Samhain on AO3

HERE IT FINALLY IS AAAA, I hope you enjoy! <3 -Lien

... “If it makes you feel any better, I could do a ritual for her?” MJ’s words struck a chord with Peter. He knows she’s always reserved about her Paganism, aware that it’s not a conventional religion. So, this came as quite the surprise. “I-” Peter is at a loss for words as he sinks down into the sofa, eyes locked on the dried, bloody patch in the cushions. This means a lot to MJ, which, in turn, means a lot to Peter. Her connection with her beliefs is strong and deep. She doesn’t say something like this to just anyone. “Yeah…” he sighs, absentmindedly tracing the stain with his index finger. “I’d appreciate that.” Peter hates how formal his reply sounds but MJ smiles encouragingly anyways. She sits down on the floor in front of him and grabs his hand away from the patch of blood and the sour memory attached to it, to make him look down at her. Her hair is up in a messy bun, the flyaways frame her face playfully and she grins up at him. MJ’s been helping him clean the apartment the last few weeks with zero complaints whatsoever. All she said was: “One day, I’ll need your help and then you’ll be there for me too.” It’s true. He’d do anything for her, as he would for Ned. And May . About two months prior, May had suffered a hypo so severe she had to be taken to the hospital. She recovered enough that she could spend the rest of her time at home, but the damage had already been done. Not just physically. Peter had to sell pretty much everything worth anything that he owned in order to cover even a quarter of the bills. Both his and May’s savings had gone into the treatment and now they had next to nothing left, which posed another issue: the insulin. They wouldn’t be able to afford her medication for a while, which meant May was at a constant risk. She wasn’t strong enough to go back to work, but the fact that the meds weren’t there to help her with her recovery meant that it wasn’t going fast. On the contrary. She was deteriorating. But she also decided to keep that from Peter for as long as she could. She didn’t want him to worry about her, nor did she want him to take any other measures in order to get her her meds. Peter noticed, though. May always hated wearing her prescription glasses. But a little over four weeks ago, while Peter was studying at the dinner table, she asked him to fetch them for her. And even as the glasses were on her head, she still squinted- still brought the book further and closer, further and further. Her eyes were getting worse, but she blamed it on her age. Peter knew better. May knew Peter knew better. With the lack of money, good food was out of the picture too. Everything May would need to recover and live a healthy life was figurative miles away- out of reach. It was difficult to determine her body’s needs without the right equipment and she felt lifeless and tired most of the time. She started dropping stuff, accidentally. And her walk became stick-like. Her hands and feet were ice-cold, and she had to wear her mother’s old compression socks to keep her circulation under control. It became increasingly more difficult for her to run errands, though she tried. There was no way she was going to give up. And there was no way she was going to let Peter in on it, regardless of whether or not he noticed. He’d experienced enough loss, she wasn’t going to burden him with any more anxiety. However, the fact that she didn’t talk to him about it, even when he asked or confronted her, only increased his fears. His nights were sleepless. Restless. His mind ran with doom scenarios. What if. What if. What if. A few days before MJ first helped him with the cleaning, Peter found May on the sofa again, casually reading a book when he noticed her leggings around her ankles were a deep red colour. Not the khaki shade he’d seen when he left for uni that day. “May, what’s that?” He’d asked. When she lifted the book - which she was now reading with a magnifying glass - to follow Peter’s glare, she exclaimed a surprised: “Oh!” May aimed to get up from the sofa, but ultimately lost her balance and dropped back into it again. The sofa cushion was stained, just like her feet were. Peter immediately ran over to her and helped her compose herself but she broke down. Tears streamed down her face and the only words that she could utter were unneeded apologies and heavy-weighing regrets. She sobbed against Peter’s shoulder and it took him every inch of willpower not to lose himself to his sadness as well. Apparently, May went downstairs to grab the mail and on the back way up, she tripped, hitting the lower part of her ankles on the steps. She thought it was okay- that she was fine, but she couldn’t feel the wounds underneath her clothes. She hadn’t noticed the blood seeping out from them, not even when she sat down on the sofa and blurred her sight even further with the book. When she was calm again, after taking in all of Peter’s encouraging, hopeful words, he told her to stay seated so he could patch her up. He carefully took off one of the compression socks and tossed it onto the coffee table. It’d be easier to get the stain off of there than the light rug he was now sitting on. Her foot was freezing and he swallowed when he saw the damage on her ankle. He grabbed the first aid kit and cleaned her up. After her first leg was all ready, he moved on to her other. Gently, he pulled at the hem of the other compression sock, but before he could toss it onto the table, he spotted her pinky toe. It was darkening. Dying. That’s when Peter broke. “I know you need a miracle right now to help with all of this and- well, I don’t really know anyone who’s good at that kinda stuff, but... “ MJ scoffs an awkward laugh before continuing. “I mean, the help of a Fae would be nice, but it’s not that those just show up if you ask them to.” “A Fae?” Peter chuckles, though his eyes don’t spark. “Like Puck? From the play we had to do at Summer camp?” “Sort of, yeah!” MJ grabs Peter’s other hand and places both of them on his knees, resting her own on top. “But I’m playing with you, Pete. It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help.” Peter smiles, but he makes a mental note nonetheless. Not that he thinks Fae are real; that’d be kind of insane. “Anyways, what I wanted to say is that… Well, whatever happens, I’m here for you, ‘kay? And for May, too.” “Thanks, MJ.” Peter’s expression softens as MJ stands up. “Now, let’s finish up so I can go home and perform that ritual.” She winks and helps Peter to his feet. He’s not sure how to express his gratitude any further. Should he ask to be there? Or is it private? It’s not like he knows much about Paganism anyways. He’s interested, though. Peter is desperate, sure, but he never imagined he would be this desperate. As soon as MJ is out the door, he grabs his notebook to scribble down everything he thinks he knows about Fae. Fairies- whatever. He even re-reads Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream , the play he had a part in last Summer. Puck’s lines- his lines- were still marked. “It’d be a stretch to find one willing to help,” MJ said. Lucky for Peter, he is quite flexible. … Peter knows it’s ridiculous. Fae can’t be real. It’s folklore. A story. Yet… Peter still finds himself seated behind the library computer that still runs on Windows XP, somehow. Every day, he tells himself he should stop looking up information on Fae. That he should study. Regardless of his attempts to set himself straight, his fingers still type the wrong things into the search bar. To say his obsession is bordering unhealthy is an understatement, to be honest. He just wants May to live a full and happy life. He wants May to live. And at this point he’s willing to try anything. He can’t lose her too; she’s all he has left. It’s nearly Halloween, or Samhain in the Pagan religion. On this day, the border between the world of humans and Fae should be relatively thin, which means the odds would be in his favor if he were to look for a Fae then. Samhain’s in two days, so there’s no time to lose. Every trick, every single thing that could harm Peter’s safety has to be ingrained in his brain. Yes, he would do anything to save May, but it’d be nice if he got to spend some time with her after. The most important things Peter noted for himself are “don’t accept anything from a Fae, especially not food,” “don’t listen to their music and definitely don’t dance with them,” and the one that Peter knew he would most likely slip on: “don’t give them your name. Under any circumstance.” Peter quickly decided that if any Fae asked for his name, he would just say his name is Ned, for a lack of creativity. … Samhain’s Eve, or Halloween. Peter squeezes his way into the train. He’s very grateful that the New York council had decided that students get to travel the subways for free. Otherwise, he’d have no idea how he would’ve gotten out of the city and into the suburbs. Towards the woods. May is with a friend tonight to give Peter some breathing space, but the opposite is true. The anticipation has knocked the air out of Peter’s lungs. Peter manages to sit down next to a few kids, dressed up for trick or treating. He offers them a nervous smile, clutching his backpack against his chest. The journey out of New York seems to flash by as much as it takes an eternity. After about two hours of travel, Peter steps out of the last possible station and breathes in the cold October air. With an old fashioned map of the area and a thrifted flashlight, Peter finds his way into the woods. He knows he has to get off the paths at some point, but the mere idea frightens him to the core. He’s suddenly not so sure anymore if this was a good idea in the first place. Maybe… Maybe he should turn around? Settle on the couch and watch some bad horror movies? That’d surely be a lot safer than whatever he’s doing right now. Peter’s feet don’t stop, though. He keeps going forward, his mind telling him to go back, but his heart cannot refrain from reaching out for May. For answers. For hope, no matter how little he may have left. He can feel his blood pump through his body, experiencing how it grows heavy with every step he takes. The distinct ache of loneliness in his chest grows tighter and tighter. It’s cold, it’s dark, he’s alone. Utterly and indescribably alone. His eyes are fixated on the path in front of him. So much so, that he doesn’t realize he loses track of his map. Worst of all, he only gets back to his senses when the flashlight starts flickering dangerously. “No,” Peter whispers, shaking the tool. “No-no-no-no-” “Need a hand?” Peter yelps and turns, stumbling backwards until he trips over himself and collides with the harsh ground. He looks up at the man, now towering over him, hand outstretched. The flashlight is on again, lying next to Peter and illuminating the fallen leaves, creating a pattern against the trees just off the path. The stranger has a kind smile. He seems to be in his forties, hair still dark and crow’s feet enunciating his smile. Peter sighs exasperated, reaching forward to take the man’s hand until… No, wait, who is this man? Peter turns his head to grab the flashlight and when he shifts back to the man, it flickers again. Peter loses his breath when the man’s irises seem to light up in the short dark moments. The man’s smile doesn’t falter, even when Peter’s expression drops. On the contrary, the smile turns into a smirk and all that’s left for Peter to look at when the flashlight finally dies is a pair of intense, golden glowing eyes. “What’s a young sprite like you doing in these woods? At this hour?” The man’s illuminated eyes lower and lower until he’s at eye level with Peter, who’s still staring at him. “I-I... “ Peter takes a deep breath. “I’m looking for someone.” The man leans in closer, near-hovering over Peter’s body. Peter tries to move back, but the man follows. “Are they lost? Like you?” His voice is strangely beautiful. Deep. Close. “No, no- It’s... “ “Do you have their name? If you give it to me, I can find them for you.” Peter’s nearly laying down now, the man’s hands caging him at his sides, but not touching him. In a flash of half confidence, Peter replies: “Are you a Fae?” A dark chuckle rumbles below the golden eyes that now squint with glee. “I am many things.” “I’m too, that doesn’t answer the question, though.” Shit. Shit-shit-shit, why did Peter’s sassy side decide to show up when he’s in the clutches of someone who is definitely not human and could probably kill him without thinking about it twice. Instead of getting angry, the man laughs yet again. “Fair enough, boy.” The eyes pull back and Peter quickly scrambles until he stands, so that he can look down at the man this time. “I am what you say I am.” The man pauses as he stands up too. There’s a short shuffle and suddenly, a small fire appears in the man’s palms. The way it lights up his face is an odd combination between warm and creepy. “Does that frighten you?” “N-no.” “Your stutter betrays your lies.” Peter wants to protest, but the man suddenly raises his hand, eyeing Peter curiously. “Were you looking for me?” The man’s words send a chill through Peter’s entire body. He presses his lips on top of each other and fiddles with his fingers. “Maybe.” “So, yes.” “Yes.” The man smiles again. “And why were you looking for me?” “I’m not looking for you specifically.” “Ouch,” the man chuckles. “You’re looking to use my power.” Peter’s jaw tightens. It almost feels like an accusation. Like it’s hurtful to the Fae that Peter’s only there for that. Peter swallows. Now that he puts it like that, it does sound a little mean. “Why?” “It’s… It’s a long story,” Peter says as he looks down at his feet. The light of the fire in the Fae’s hands creates a bubble of light around them. They’re still surrounded by utter darkness, save for a few faint silhouettes of the trees around them. “I have all night.” The man nods, but stops halfway down, seemingly mulling something over. “What did you say your name is, again?” “P-” Peter barely catches himself. Simply saying the first letter of his name already makes him feel a strange, otherworldly tug at his heart. He can’t say Ned now. He already started the word. What name could he possibly give to the Fae? Peter composes himself quickly as the gears in his mind turn fast. Fae. “Puck.” “Ha!” The man laughs bombustuously. “Fitting for a sweet and pretty young man as you. Though, you are not a Fae.” The man wiggles his eyebrows. “Or are you?” Peter opts to ignore the flirtatious compliment. “Am not. You and I both know I shouldn’t give you my real name.” Peter takes a deep breath, relatively pleased with himself for talking back. “You may call me Puck.” “Puck.” The Fae breathes in the name as he closes his glowing eyes. “I’ll call you Puck.” “And what should I call you?” Peter asks carefully. A playful smirk creeps up on the Fae’s face. “I go by many names in these woods. Some call me Inventor. Others call me Iron Man. You may call me Tinker.” Peter can’t help himself and bursts out laughing. “Tinker?” he repeats. “As in Tinkerbell?” The Fae sighs exasperated. It seems like he’s heard that before. “No.” He rolls his golden eyes. “I make things. I tinker. But I suppose you deem the nickname unworthy?” The flame in his hands grows bigger for a split second. “If you’ve got anything else, I’ll gladly call you that,” Peter chuckles. “Inventor… Iron Man. Wait, isn’t iron a Fae’s weakness?” The man laughs softly. “It’s why they call me it. I am one of the few who feels no effect from iron, or technology, for that matter.” The man nods at Peter’s pants. “So, the screwdriver in your pocket is quite a lousy weapon against me.” The playful smirk returns on his face. “Or are you just happy to see me?” “I- I-” Peter takes a step back, wide-eyed, and looks at the tool in his pocket. The man knew he had it on him. Peter shivers. “I like you, Puck,” the man says suddenly. He takes a step closer to Peter, who is stuck in place. The warmth of the fire in the man’s hand now reaches Peter’s skin. It’s… Nice. Comforting, somehow. “There is something about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.” “I’m nothing special, sir,” Peter says politely, breaking eye contact and looking down again. “I’m just here to help my aunt.” “Your… Aunt?” Peter tells him the entire story. About May’s diabetes, without mentioning her name, and the inevitability of amputations and likely death if things keep going the way they are. The Fae listens thoughtfully, not breaking eye contact with Peter the entire time. The man doesn’t flinch, not even when Peter’s voice starts breaking and tears threaten to spill from his eyes. “I shouldn’t be this vulnerable with you,” Peter suddenly interrupts himself, attempting to swallow away the lump in his throat. The Fae finally changes expression. A kind smile spreads on his face and he nods. “A wise assumption.” The man cocks his head and rolls his shoulders, still looking down at Peter. “Though, I am not interested in tricking you right now. I prefer my catch on guard. I like a challenge.” “Good to know,” Peter sighs, tightening his jaw again in an attempt to stop his emotions getting the better of him. “Company.” The Fae’s voice is soft, nearly melancholic. “What?” Peter takes a small step back and frowns, quickly wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his shirt. The soft breeze glides between the trees and tickles his face. It makes the flame in the Fae’s hand dance. Peter blinks once. Twice. “I’d much appreciate it if, in return for helping your aunt, you keep me company.” If Peter knew any better he’d say there was a hint of desperation seeping from Fae’s words. Is he lonely? The spark of hope grows brighter in Peter’s chest. May might just survive, if the Fae doesn’t screw him over. Peter takes a second to ponder his words. “How long?” “Bargain for it, boy.” Peter sucks at his teeth and takes a deep breath. He has no idea what kind of price he has to pay. What’s normal. Though, about a week ago he didn’t even think Fae existed, so everything was a wild guess at this point. “I- I don’t know… What would you ask of me?” Peter fumbles, wrapping one hand around the index finger of the other and pulling at it absentmindedly. It’s a nervous tick he couldn’t seem to shake and it betrays his uncertainty. Suddenly, the Fae pushes into his space, making Peter stumble backwards again. He barely keeps himself from tripping over and the Fae cocks his head playfully. “You and I both know I’d rather have your name, but you won’t give that to me, would you?” His tone darkens and he orders. “Bargain.” “Two days. Consecutive. So, 48 hours?” Peter tries. A bargain means the Fae will start with a higher price. If they’re going to work to a middle ground, 48 hours might be a good starting point. “Two days?” The Fae sighs dramatically and raises the back of his hand to his forehead. “You wound me.” The Fae stands up straight again, putting the same hand on his hip and puffing his chest. The flame in his hand grows brighter and brighter. “Eight. Consecutive.” “Mh, three.” “Six…” The Fae’s tone is threatening somehow, but Peter won’t give in that easily. “Four, separate meetings, not consecutive.” The Fae’s laughter shakes the trees and there’s a mischievous glint in his eye before he continues. “Is that all you think your aunt’s precious life is worth, Puck?” Peter jolts and immediately shakes his head. “Y-You told me to bargain!” “Hmm… So I did.” The Fae steps closer to Peter, refraining from touching him, but Peter can feel his hot breath on his skin. The Fae smells of pine and Peter has to set his mind straight to look away from him. He didn’t realize he’d been staring straight into the Fae’s golden eyes. “I really do like you.” Peter shudders. The Fae then pulls back again and nods approvingly. “Four days it is. How about we meet every upcoming celebration up until Beltane?” Peter doesn’t know how to reply, so instead, he keeps quiet. His silence isn’t taken kindly, though. The Fae clears his throat and looks at Peter from behind his long lashes. He smirks. “Have we come to an agreement?” Peter isn’t sure whether or not he should say yes straight away. There’s something that’s still missing from this contract and the last thing Peter wants is to be tricked. “Your medicine has to work completely, otherwise the deal is off,” he states resolute. The Fae chuckles. “Clever boy,” the Fae sighs as he circles Peter. Goosebumps spread over the young man’s entire body. “I cannot cure an illness like hers, but I can ensure she does not suffer. I will help your aunt live a long, full and healthy life, regardless of the ailment she carries with her.” The Fae sniffs once and cocks an eyebrow at Peter’s reply. “Whatever means necessary?” “Whatever means necessary.” “Deal.” The Fae grins and tilts his head slightly. “Good boy.” Peter shivers and takes in a deep breath. That voice . Those words . They shouldn’t do as much to Peter as they actually do. He should be scared. Yet, this whole thing is kind of… Exciting, in a way… Invigorating. “Do you think you can find your way back?” The man asks, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. He looks around and into the darkness, which causes his heart to sink. “I’m not sure.” “You can say no, Puck. It’s alright,” the Fae jokes. “If you are comfortable with following me, I can lead you back to the nearby town.” Peter eyes the Fae cautiously. “A human town.” “With a train connection into New York?” “If I knew, I’d tell you. But a town is better than infinite darkness, isn’t it?” The man grins cheekily and gestures around. Peter looks into the dark, realizing that if he doesn’t agree, the Fae will leave him here alone. Without light. “Please, take me there?” His voice is smaller than he hoped it was. “Only because you asked so nicely.” Peter isn’t sure how long they’re walking. The man doesn’t say much, but Peter can’t help but notice he tries to keep the flame close to Peter to keep him warm. He’s kinder than he thought Fae would be, but there is a small weight of dread in Peter’s stomach. What if the Fae did trick him? What if he’s being led somewhere else? His worries fade when he spots a brick house in the distance. He releases the breath he’d been holding and turns to look at the Fae.

“Thank you.” “Of course,” the Fae replies. He seems lost in thought. “Are you okay?” Peter asks quietly. The man seems surprised by his question. “Yes, eh… It’s just been a while since I’ve… Well... “ The man frowns and looks away. “Nevermind.” He leans back on his heels and uses the hand that still carries the flame to point at the path ahead. “If you take a right after the first house, the road you’ll be on should lead you into town.” Peter stares at the man and the sad expression that is still on his face. It confirms Peter’s earlier thoughts. The man is lonely. Peter bites the inside of his cheek. The Fae obviously doesn’t want to talk about whatever is bothering him, and since Peter doesn’t want to push him over any edge, he decides to leave it. For now. “Thanks.” He starts walking away from the Fae, but halts after a few steps. “Is there something small you want in return?” Peter replies. The man blinks a few times, confused. “You did help me.” Peter shrugs. “I... “ The man stops his sentence, purses his lips and frowns. “Ahh,” Peter smirks. “There is something you want.” “You’re a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” The man’s eyes giddily light up for a split second. “Only with people I’m comfortable around.” Peter replies without thinking. A soft “oh” falls from the Fae’s lips. Peter tries to lighten the mood. “Bargain for it,” he says. The Fae looks at him dumbfounded, but collects himself. It’s odd to see him suddenly turn shy. “Is a hug too much to ask for?” “A hug?” Peter repeats surprised. The Fae looks away rejected, so Peter continues quickly. “A hug should suffice.” Peter smiles as he steps towards the Fae. He opens his arms, but pauses. “Do… Do you want me to give you a hug, or do you want to… Take one from me?” Peter doesn’t know why he asked it. Obviously, he should be giving the hug in return for the directions. But something about how the man stood there, tells him differently. “May… May I?” Peter nods encouragingly and before he can even blink, he feels the Fae’s arms wrapped around his body. It feels strangely… Cold? One of his hands finds its way into Peter’s curls. The other presses Peter against him tightly. Peter is completely enveloped in the man’s presence. It’s comforting, somehow, to feel the Fae’s warm breath on his ear. The flame the Fae held has disappeared, but his hands are still tingling with heat, even though the rest of his body seems so cold. “Thank you,” the man whispers quietly. Peter has no idea how long he had been held in the Fae’s embrace, but he had to admit, he kind of didn’t really want to leave. He hasn’t had a hug like this since Ben died. He should let go, obviously. There’s still a small voice in the back of his head, telling him that this is a trick to make him stay. To make him say or do things that would result in him never being able to go home. But Peter can practically feel the man’s sorrow aching against his chest. “Of course,” Peter replies, once again mimicking the man’s words. The Fae finally pulls back, but he doesn’t yet let go of Peter. He seems to be looking for something in Peter’s eyes, but he can’t find what he searches for. Eventually, he clears his throat and lets go. “I’ll see you when Yule graces us.” “When’s that?” Peter asks innocently. The man smiles and cocks his head. “Around your Christmas.” “Ah,” Peter says with a nod. “Well, see Yule then.” Peter wiggles his eyebrows and finger guns. He’s about to hit himself in the head to condemn his stupidity, but what he doesn’t expect, isthe man bursting out laughing. The sound fills Peter’s heart with warmth. The Fae‘s laughter eventually dies down and then he nods at the path ahead. “I will visit your aunt soon, before this week ends. Thank you, Puck.” Peter grins and turns towards the town, continuing his journey home. After about ten feet, he stops again, though. There was a question nagging at his mind that he hadn’t yet gotten the answer to. “What do I call you?” The Fae looks down at the ground between them and starts walking backwards. “Oberon,” he says softly. He smiles one last time before retreating into the dense woods. “You may call me Oberon.”

[nothingunrealistic]

Prompt/request: Winston has been SUPER burned out lately because of, yunno, the pressure to prove himself and actually be valued for his contributions to mase cap while almost everyone rags on him, and eventually it gets ... too far. I'll leave it vague to give you some freedom. Cue dynamics between Taylor, Rian and Mafee (because not enough people pay attention to the latter relationship, I know Mafee was a giant dickwad to Winston in 4x11 but he might as well has his own loyalties tested).

Renovations have been going on all week at Axe Capital, and the noise is really ruining the ambience of the office. Luckily for Rian, none of the construction work is happening inside the Mase Carb enclave, but glass walls don’t block out all the sound, just muffle it.

With everyone trying to make up the losses from the Shine-Lucence collapse, it’s been a week of late nights for the quant team. She’d expect the construction crew to have gone home by now, but they’re still in the building, and the constant clamor of saw and hammer still seeps through the glass. Maybe they don’t have a union.

Rian hits the button on another backtest and leans back in her chair. That should give her an hour at least to look into another project, or maybe just to relax. 

She glances over to Winston, thinking of asking what he’s working on, but he doesn’t look like he’s working at all. Though technically he’s looking at his Bloomberg, or at least pointing his face toward it, his eyes are glazed over. His hands aren’t on his keyboard or mouse; one of them is clicking a pen every few seconds.

Rian pauses her music and takes off her headphones. Normally that would catch Winston’s attention, but he doesn’t look her way. She needs to be more obvious.

“¿Estás pensando en la inmortalidad del cangrejo?”

Winston’s eyes flick over to her, more focused now, giving her a half-hearted attempt at a death glare. He still doesn’t say anything.

“You’re really spacing out right now,” Rian says. “Like, you might as well be in the Oort cloud.” Oh, that’s a good metaphor, very fund-appropriate. She’d better keep that one in her back pocket.

The silent semi-glare lasts several more seconds before Winston speaks. “Long week. I’m tired.”

A hammer bangs against metal somewhere on the main floor, and Winston flinches, eyes flickering shut, fingers curling tighter around the pen. That doesn’t look like ordinary exhaustion.

“Construction getting to you?” Rian says, trying to be casual. Sounding too concerned would make it weird. “I can’t believe they’re still here.”

“Yeah. Can’t block it out, can’t focus.”

“Don’t you have headphones?”

“Broke last week. New pair hasn’t shipped yet.”

The muted clunk of the office door opening turns both Rian’s and Winston’s heads. Mafee’s walked in, and pushed the door so far open that it’s locked into place, letting the sounds of power tools flow in unfiltered. “You guys are still here?”

“Fuck off,” Winston says. A few analysts stare, but Mafee ignores him.

“You’re also still here,” Rian points out.

“Everyone on the trading floor’s gone home. Didn’t expect there to be anyone left here.”

Winston drops his pen onto the desk. “Shut the door, asshole.” 

“Deal with it,” Mafee says.

“Do you know what the renovations are for?” Rian says, as Winston pulls off his glasses and buries his face in his hands. “Or why they’re continuing this late?”

“No clue.” Mafee yanks out an empty desk chair and drops into it with a clatter. “Back in the Westport office, Axe had the meditation room torn up and redone into a panic room. Maybe he’s doing that again.”

“What for?”

“Who knows? It’s Axe, no one has a fucking clue why he does anything until six months later.” A drill whines and buzzes outside; Mafee raises his voice. “I mean, when he was renovating the first time, he was crazy paranoid about there being a quisling in the office, and then in three weeks it was like he’d totally forgotten about it — whoa, hey, man —”

Rian follows his gaze to Winston, who’s pressing his open hands against his face again and again, so hard that it has to hurt. Red scratches run from his hairline down over his forehead. Mafee jumps from his chair and tries to pull Winston’s hands away from his face. “Dude, you’re gonna hurt yourself, don’t do that —” 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Winston grits out, barely intelligible, struggling to yank his hands free of Mafee’s grip.

“Help me out here,” Mafee says, turning back to Rian, but she’s never seen this happen, has no idea what to do. 

Who would know?

Lauren and Wendy are nowhere in sight. Most of the other quants have gone home, and the few left, whose names Rian doesn’t know anyway, are pointedly ignoring events at Winston’s end of the desk. Taylor —

Taylor’s still here, in their office. Taylor knows how to handle problems, how to make things better.

“I’m going to get Taylor,” Rian announces, and gets up from her chair.

On her way, one analyst she passes dares to ask, “What’s going —”

“None of your business,” Rian says, because it seems fitting, and sounds a lot better than I don’t know either and I’m scared.

She slips into Taylor’s office. With their laptop open and the desk phone pressed to their ear, they don’t notice her even when the door shuts behind her. This might be a bad time.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Excuse me for a moment,” Taylor says into the phone, before setting it on the desk. “Yes. Is this urgent?”

“Well, Winston’s kind of freaking out, and Mafee and I don’t know what to do,” Rian says, “so… yeah?”

Taylor looks toward Winston, and their brow furrows over widening eyes. They pick up the phone just long enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to call you back another day,” before hanging up and slamming the laptop shut. In less time than it took Rian to decide to ask Taylor for help, they’re out the door; she follows them.

“Please go home and close the door behind you,” she hears them say to the remaining quants, who hurry to shut off their computers and pack up their things. When they get to Winston, they wave away Mafee — he’s gotten the message to get his hands off Winston, it seems, and was just entreating him to calm down instead. (It isn’t working.) No reason why Rian’s presence would be any more helpful; she retreats to the couch near the office entrance, the door finally swinging shut behind the last analyst to leave. 

Taylor sits in Rian’s chair, leaning in close to Winston and talking too quietly to hear from across the room. That doesn’t stop Rian from trying, and she’s straining so hard to pick out their words that it’s almost a surprise when Mafee sits down next to her. “Do you think he’s having a stroke or something?”

“I think if he were having a stroke, Taylor would have called 911 instead of handling it themself.” Rian shifts on the couch. Mafee’s sitting partly on her cushion and partly on the one next to it, and it’s throwing off her equilibrium. “You haven’t seen this before?”

“Never.”

Relative quiet settles over the office — the racket from outside is muffled again, and inside there’s only Taylor’s voice, low and calm, and Winston’s breathing, slowing.

Both of them get up, and Winston follows Taylor to their office. Through the glass, Rian watches him collapsing onto the couch just inside the door and Taylor pulling down the window shades. Seems like it’d be helpful if the glass walls on three sides also had shades. Maybe this would have been avoided if they were in a normal building.

Winston described it to her, once, the building that Taylor Mason Carbon had called home when it was named Taylor Mason Capital and not under Axe’s control. An old warehouse, refurbished, across the river in Dumbo. Exposed wood and stone and solid doors, low light and quiet, rather than Axe Cap’s glass and chrome and glaring fluorescents and soaring staircases that declare the future is here and now and it is insane wealth. He’d obviously missed it, and she can see why.

On the other side of the glass, Taylor sits down beside Winston, shoulder to shoulder, their backs to everyone else, and Rian aches.

“I think maybe we should leave,” Mafee says.

“We should.”

Rian pushes herself off the couch to return to her desk. The backtest will have to finish another day. She turns off her Bloomberg, scoops up her laptop and headphones, and doesn’t let her focus linger on Winston’s glasses, askew on his keyboard.

When she turns for the door, Taylor is there, and Rian almost jumps. It’s spooky how quietly they move sometimes. “Before you go, I need to speak with you. And Mafee.”

“Sure.”

A nod from Taylor summons Mafee from the couch. He comes over demanding to know, in a not-quite-whisper, “What the hell was that about?”

“Winston will be taking a few days off.”

“Because he gave himself a concussion and said ‘don’t fucking touch me’ when I tried to stop him?”

“In a case like that, I would suggest that you not fucking touch him.” Taylor shoves their hands in their pockets. “It likely exacerbated the situation.”

“There wasn’t a situation until he tried to tear his face off.”

“There kind of was,” Rian says. “Before you came in, he said he was tired and the noise from the construction was bothering him. And you leaving the door open probably didn’t help.”

“Exactly. Being subjected to noise at that volume for this long can be… overstimulating.” Rian steals a glance toward Winston, who’s now lying down on the couch. “Some people are more sensitive to that kind of disruption than others.”

“Winston? Sensitive?”

So the pot is calling the kettle callous now? “Unlike you.”

Mafee shrugs, hands falling open helplessly. “It’s not like I wanted him to suffer or something. I didn’t know he wasn’t just being a jackass about me leaving the door open.”

“Anyway,” Taylor says, curt. “Winston will be out next week. I’ll see what can be done about the renovations before he returns —”

“But he’s going to be fine, right?”

Surprised looks from both Mafee and Taylor land on her like laser sights. Damn. She sounded too concerned and she’s made it weird.

“Yes.” There’s no impatience in Taylor’s tone now, just sympathy. “He will be.”

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Weird question maybe, but do you think Noda is trying to set up Sugimoto and Asirpa as a couple? I’m RLLY hoping he isn’t, but with Asirpa having a hinted crush, and this last chapter talking about “joined hearts” or something, I’m worried Sugimoto and Asirpa might become a couple :(

Well...

I genuinely don’t know and since I’m STRONGLY AGAINST THIS I fear I’m not really the best person at whom to ask hoping in an objective answer.

As who read my ramblings probably already knows, I’m in the camp of those who hope Sugimoto will go back to Umeko (and I hope for him she’ll take him back, although she’s not obliged to do so) and that believes his bond with Asirpa, due to the respective problems had turned into a toxic relation so it wouldn’t be okay for them to become a couple, not even if Asirpa were of the same age as Sugimoto... and the idea of them getting together is even worse considering Asirpa is actually so young... so that it kind of makes me furious when instead the anime seems to ‘romanticize’ it, or underline it, often at the expenses of Asirpa’s other relations (with her father, Shiraishi, Ogata...) or even her lack of belief in prophecies and dreams.

Still, I can try my best to give my two cents about it in the most objective and respectful of other cultures I can manage. Forgive me if I might fail but this is something I’m really passionate against so it’s not really easy for me to keep distance.

Also warning for adult topics which might make people uncomfortable.

Read at your own risk.

Something I’m confident enough and that I feel is based on an objective enough belief is that, if Noda were to consider planning to make them a couple, it wouldn’t happen right now but the story would just have a timeskip and then we would be told that years has gone by, Asirpa has grown up and they’re a couple now.

Why am I confident it can’t happen right now?

I know there are debates in the net about which is Asirpa’s age (just so you know she’s hinted to be 12/13 but my personal bet is she’s 12 at the start of the story) and if the culture of the time would allow her to get a man and how important is to be historically accurate or how historical accuracy should be tossed away when it involves something we find morally repulsive, or, and this is more important but few mention it, physically and psychologically harmful for the child involved.

Said this, my personal belief is that Noda wanted to be as historically accurate as possible and yet tell us, without any shade of doubt, that Asirpa was currently off limits and Sugimoto (or anyone else) wouldn’t look at her like that through the gold hunt.

How?

Asirpa is drawn as a prepubescent girl, which means when Noda draws her he avoid drawing her with developed secondary sex characteristics (in the specific case breasts and hips).

The majority of heterosexual men from all around the world and from all around the times are drawn to females who have developed secondary sex characteristics.

Currently the number of men who are instead drawn to prepubescent real life females is estimated to be lower than 5% among adult men and those men are the ones who, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, are considered suffering of the pedophilic disorder.

In the far past, even when it was allowed marrying prepubescent girls because selling off a daughter, no matter her age, was an easy way to make allegiance, in many cultures the marriage wouldn’t be expected to be consumed until the girl was pubescent.

That’s because not only the husbands weren’t turned on by their child brides, but also because, even if in the past they couldn’t work out how psychologically harmful it would be for a child to be forced in a sexual situation, they had, at least, managed to work out it would be physically harmful... so not only you would considered abnormal if you were to do it, but there were cultures in which it was actually forbidden to touch a girl who hadn’t hit puberty even if you were legally married to her.

So really, there’s no way whatsoever Noda drew Asirpa that way, only to have the main character, who’s supposed to be a good guy who cares about her, be attracted to her.

Even a drunk Ushiyama, who normally tries to hit on every female in sight Inkarmat included and can be rather forceful tells Asirpa she has to grow up before picking a man.

Long story short, there’s no point in searching if in Japan, in that time period, a girl of Asirpa’s age was allowed to get married or not, as long as Asirpa looks prepubescent we know Sugimoto, who’s AGAIN supposed to be what we would call a good guy, is SURELY not meant to do so much as consider to touch her.

That’s why Huci can tell Sugimoto to marry Asirpa without meaning any harm to her, because she expects him not to touch her until she’s physically ready because, as said before, in the past girls got sadly married at way too young ages, often withou people bothering to ask for their consent (or the one of the husband as he too often was ‘married off’ by his family) but husbands weren’t expected nor interested in having their ways with them immediately.

And that’s also why, since Sugimoto just can’t see Asirpa as that kind of partner and they’re not in a situation in which they need to marry for some reasons (marriage was also used as a tool back then, we saw how Svetlana was told to marry so that this would allow her to get out of prison and how Wilk married Riratte and, due to this, got Japanese citizenship, while others would use it to get economical protection or other things), I’m confident there will be no marriage between the two of them in 1908, the year in which we currently are in GK or becoming a couple or whatever.

They’re just partners in the gold hunt, he’s just not meant to be interested in her physically nor in need to tie her to himself legally through marriage so for now I like to think nothing will happen between them.

So, long story short, many of us who’re against Asirpa and Sugimoto becoming a couple, can have a collective breath of relief at least as far as the story remains in this year, as I’m pretty confident Sugimoto isn’t meant to like her like that right now.

Said all this... nothing stops Noda, as I said before, to have a flash forward to when Asirpa will reach puberty and, likely, also adult age and AT THIS POINT have Sugimoto fall for her at that point.

We see how Umeko’s mom is all happy at the prospect of a man of more than 40 marrying her likely around 24 daughter (I assume she’s around Sugimoto’s age) so no one in the story will question if a 24 Asirpa were to marry a 36 Sugimoto and there are various stories in which the story starts with the man in the couple just viewing the female as a mere child to then develop genuine feelings of love for her when she grows up (one of the most famous manga in the genre is “Glass no Kamen” in which Maya is 13 when the story starts and Masumi is 11 years older than her... and an even bigger age gap there was probably between her teacher Tsukikage Chigusa and her lover and mentor Ozaki Ichiren).

So to sum it up... I’m confident that Asirpa and Sugimoto won’t become a couple right now... but I can’t say if Noda is setting them up to become a couple in the far future.

For that we can only wait and see.

Sorry if I’m not really trying to make a prediction on what could happen in a flash forward but I fear I wouldn’t be capable to be objective since I’m currently so against it.

Also sorry if I had to touch pretty uncomfortable topics when answering, or I explained them poorly but I thought they were relevant and I didn’t really know how to put them better.

Thanks for your ask and sorry if my reply came late.