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ichorai · 3 years ago

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the devil's queen ; k.yr

pairing ; forest queen!yeri x devil!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; in which the queen of the forest seeks out the devil’s help after accidentally turning her husband to stone.

themes ; fantasy, slight fluff and angst, royalty au, devil au, magic au, forest au (?), forbidden love au

words ; 4.2k

warnings / includes ; devils obv, mentions of divorce and a loveless marriage, uhm yeri turns her husband into stone, one mention of angels, teasing banter, an absurd amount of description because yeri is gorgeous and i can't help myself, both yeri and reader are little shits, kissy kiss kiss at the end </3

a/n ; my first gg fic :D i'm rlly excited for this one !! i'm literally in love with yeri so i'm so happy to finally post this ! thank you to @doievoir for beta reading <3 also thanks to @subways-stuff and @koocycle for being gay with me :(

masterlist. | milestone celebration.

The stone of the balcony’s railing beneath the forest queen’s fingertips was just slightly cold to the touch, mellowed by the night’s sweet breeze. Her face, dappled by the moon’s gentlest luminescence, bore a somber expression, only managing to mask the panic she truly felt by a thread of her being. Pale was her dress, and paler her skin became as she grew clammy with unease. The sheer, opal chiffon of her skirts grazed the balcony floor with faint kisses in accordance to Yeri’s ceaseless fidgeting. And because of her restless movements, the intricate leaf crown propped atop her temple was now slightly askew, placed awkwardly amongst her perfectly-curled tendrils.

From where you were standing, watching the queen, worry etched into her soft features, you almost felt a shred of pity. The keyword being almost. Devils rarely ever felt remorse.

You took this opportunity to look around the queen’s chambers. After all, it wasn’t every day that you’re summoned by a woman of such importance, much less the queen of the forest herself. Gorgeous vines twisted up marble columns, white flowers scattered across the greenery. Every which way you looked, there were at least five potted plants ranging from minuscule succulents to large ferns longer than your own arm span. Even the bed had a canopy of iridescent petals and glossy leaves.

“You must really enjoy nature,” you quipped, taking slight amusement in the way Yeri jumped at the sound of your voice, spinning around with a hand on her chest. “Looks to be bordering on obsession, actually…”

The queen, having come down from her initial shock, looked upon you with a quizzical eyebrow. “I called you to help me, not to make comments on my lifestyle.” She waved her fingers in the air, conjuring a thick vine that wrapped around her waist as if it were a snake. “Besides, I’m the queen of the forest. It would be more bewildering to find my chamber void of natural elements.”

A toothy grin so wide it made you look sinister graced your lips, and you bowed your head slightly. Yeri, much to her dismay, couldn’t tell if the action was genuine or mocking.

“I like that you feel the need to defend yourself against the devil. Makes me feel somewhat of importance,” you uttered the words with a simple-minded hum, eyes glowing with mirth. “Which brings me to ask… why have you called me here?”

The silence was suffocating as she strode up towards you, an almost defiant look glazing over her irises. She was so close that you could detect a hint of her sweet scent; an intoxicating concoction of apricots and grass and the slight tang of the air just before it rained. A tad too refreshing for your taste, but it suited her well.

On the other hand, Yeri found that you were as warm as a walking fireplace, and smelled as if you had doused yourself in cinnamon and musky cologne. Though it wasn’t necessarily an awful aroma, it was most definitely strong and caught her off guard. Who knew the devil would radiate the odor of a popular dessert spice?

Yeri’s steps slowed down once she was just in front of you, near enough that her soft skirts brushed against your dress pants. You noted the way her breathing seemed to hitch, teeth slightly tugging at the plushness of her bottom lip in hesitancy. What was she waiting for?

And with a deep exhale, she reached somewhere behind you with the speed of lightning, as if she wanted to get this over and done with. Her fingers curled tightly around a fistful of white cloth cloaking a large mass, tugging on it with a mild grunt. You spun on your heel with an arched eyebrow, watching with suppressed curiosity.

As you beheld the sight, expression unfaltering, Yeri buried her face in her hands, practically vibrating in stagnant shame. You wondered if she was crying, but found that her face was dry when she pulled herself away from her palms. Either she was trying too hard to feel the comforting weight of sadness, or she was lying to herself about caring.

It was most likely the latter. The thought brought a smile to your face.

A chiseled statue stood in front of the both of you. Opal in color and sculpted with perfect body proportions, your smile melded into an intrigued frown.

“I know,” Yeri whispered without turning back to look at you. “I’m a monster.”

“Don’t call yourself a monster in front of the devil, it’s unbecoming,” you snorted in contempt. Then, you gestured limply towards the statue. “I don’t even know what this is. Did you call me here to show off an artsy escapade of yours? I’ve got far more important things to do, you know.” ‘Important things’ really meant watching two crows fight over a moldy baguette down in the village streets. You might’ve been the devil, but that didn’t necessarily mean you were busy all the time.

Disdain colored her words as she hissed out, “I turned my husband to stone,” rouge laced her cheekbones as she quickly added on, almost an afterthought, “by accident.”

Oh? You clasped your hands together behind you, rocking back and forth on your heels. Now you were starting to see the resemblance, recalling the forest queen’s marriage to a man whose only facial expression seemed to be stoically indifferent. “My, my,” you crooned glibly, “what an interesting turn of events. Are you sure it was an accident?”

The forest queen clearly didn’t take your teasing lightly.

“I didn’t even know I could,” she said in an icy tone, glancing down at her hands, one still fisted in the coversheet. After a moment’s pause, she spoke up again, turning towards you. “But I need him back.”

A guffaw slipped past you as you wrinkled your nose in distaste. “That’s no fun at all. You want me to bring him back? Your moronic oaf of a husband? I’m sure you could find a new one with the snap of a finger. Besides, it’s better to keep him this way. He seems far more intelligent as stone.”

Having said your fill and satisfied with the fuming look Yeri wore, you spun on your heel, about to head out of the castle and run your other devil errands.

A bright flower of consternation unfurled within her ribcage, and the forest queen found herself hurrying forward, curling her fingers around the wrist of the subject of her torment. Almost immediately, she let go, partly from shock at her own actions, but mostly from the fact that your skin was borderline scalding. You are the devil, after all. Yeri should have been more careful.

“Do you forget who I am?” she hissed nonetheless, glowering at your unturned back, her tone swimming in a pool of severity.

At her question, you whirled around to look upon her in bemusement.

“I’m the queen of the forest!”

You nodded just slightly. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Mouth agape and nose twitching slightly in an attempt to contain her umbrage, she whispered out, almost bristling in hostility, “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Finally catching on, I see.” You flashed her wink, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning forward. “Let me make one thing clear. You may be a queen, but you are not my queen. I haven’t forgotten who you are to the mortals, but I feel you’ve forgotten who I am.”

A genuinely wounded look found its way sprawled across her soft features. She struggled to find her voice for a minute, before turning her head away to gaze upon the moon in shame.

“What can I do to convince you?”

Though the words were quiet, you could still detect the stubborn tenacity interwoven through the question.

Instead of answering her inquiry, you retaliated with one of your own.

“Did you love him?”

Her face snapped back to you, frozen in incredulity. “What?” she asked, furrowing her perfect brows.

“Did you love him?” you repeated, this time rolling your eyes to the leafy canvas obscuring the ceiling. “You need not lie to me. I’ll know.”

With a shred of hesitancy clinging onto her, she uttered lowly, “No. It was a diplomatic marriage… he’s the crown prince of the ice mountains. And I need him back before anybody notices. You understand why I have to have him back, don’t you? This could cause a war.”

“A little foolish of you to ask a devil to prevent a war, don’t you think? We live for chaos,” you susurrated into her ear, circling her like a predator would their prey. Yeri flushed at your words. “Pray tell, why didn’t you ask an angel? Why come to me?”

She drew herself to her full height, almost as if sizing you up. You grinned at that. What an interesting character she was. “I was ashamed of myself. I didn’t want an angel to know of my mistake. Angels judge, and devils are used to despicable acts far worse than what I did. Of course I had to go with the latter.”

It was silent for a moment, the leaves rustling with the cold breeze. “Smart girl,” you hummed, impressed. Yeri cleared her throat, evidently flustered.

With a flick of your hand, the statue’s marble hue slowly faded away, color returning to the forest queen’s husband. A gasp left her throat, and she scurried across the room, almost tripping over the wisps of her skirt in the process. The prince of the ice mountains fell to the floor just as his feet loosened up, and he looked as if he had woken up from a horrid sleep, a dumbfounded expression masking his usually stoic features.

He looks stupid, you thought to yourself as Yeri knelt down beside him. Why would she choose him of all people?

“Have fun being married to somebody you don’t love,” you called out to the couple.

Yeri glanced upwards, a ‘thank you’ just on the tip of her tongue. But when she looked towards where you had been standing, there was nobody there. The wind whistled in your absence, and everything suddenly felt cold.

The forest was quiet as Yeri stormed through. The leaves stopped whispering, the birds halted their chirps, and the rivers grew muted. She was livid, so much so that small wildflowers the color of winter unconsciously sprouted in her furious trail. There were tear tracks forming rivulets down the apples of her cheeks, but they were long dried. She was too angry to cry now.

You danced your fingers along the bark of the branch you were sitting on, swinging your legs in bemusement as you watched the Queen bask in her fury.

Your landing from tree to ground made naught a sound, but Yeri seemed to sense that you were already there, for her shoulders squared and her chin lifted. Perhaps she wanted to look as if she had at least some semblance of her life put together in front of you. You weren’t quite sure why she bothered; you already knew she was in shambles.

Today she wore a plain sage button dress, the fabric flaring softly at her hips and arms. The skirt reached just below her knees; a considerate choice seeing as she was trudging through mud and foliage of all sorts. A white cloth was tied about her temple, keeping gorgeous locks of dark ebony from falling into her tempestuous eyes. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, and seeing her angry conjured a queer elation within you. What’s gotten her so riled up this time?

With outstretched arms, you beamed at her scowl. “Regretting asking me to free your husband from his stony confines? I did warn you against it, did I not?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Forgive me for choosing not to trust the devil.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you said in a sing-song tone. “You chose to trust me the moment you asked me to fix your poor husband. What is it you want from me now? Did you call me to turn him back to stone this time?”

An affronted look colored her already-miffed features a twisted hue. She seemed to relax just slightly when she realized that you were just jesting, as you always were.

“He wants me to move out of the forest. Permanently.” She angled her face away from you so you couldn’t see the turmoil raging within her. It was fruitless, because you saw right through her words. “Says the icy mountains are far better than this infernal place.”

The unexpected sensation of your warm hands on Yeri’s shoulders conjured what felt like an inferno raging within her ribcage. The devil was touching her. Why wasn’t she mad about it?

“Divorce him,” you said, almost nonchalantly. “You don’t love him. Why stay married?”

“I told you,” she shot back in exasperation, trying her damned hardest not to look down at your hands encasing her shoulders, just a thin layer of green fabric separating bare skin to skin contact, “for diplomatic-!”

“Oh, screw diplomacy. You don’t even want to go outside of the forest. What’s the point of staying married to him?” Your words were sharp, a dagger of truth cleaving right through her skull. It was a good point you made, and it made the queen furious to know that you’ve got her beat.

Yeri was starting to think that your ability to constantly put a damper on her mood was a mastered talent. Have you had a lot of experience belittling people? She presumed the answer was yes; the devil didn’t belong only to her, this was undeniably so. Sin was an attractive flavor to mankind. Was it greedy to want the raw form of wrongdoing all to herself?

Plunged into a cavern of her own agitation, she didn’t even notice you releasing her to pace circles around the forest queen. “He doesn’t love you either, just so you know,” you whispered from behind, causing her to startle with a wince, “especially not after that rocky stunt you pulled, hm?”

Something akin to amusement danced in Yeri’s gaze as she turned her head to peer at you. It flickered away just as quickly as it came. “You’re mean,” she said dryly.

“I know, it’s kind of my job.” You rocked back and forth on your heels, leaning against the trunk of a large tree. “So why did you call me back?”

Yeri dithered for just a moment. “I don’t have anybody else to talk to.” With such a shameful statement, you were pleasantly surprised to see how she managed to say it in such a leveled tone.

“And so you came to the devil for mild chit chat?”

She bowed her head. “I did, yes. Do you have an issue with that?”

You shook your head with a slight smile. It was a truthful response; you quite enjoyed studying Yeri’s mannerisms and turmoils.

A stoic expression crossed her elegant visage as she nodded at you, and then proceeded to turn away, striding out of the forest with naught another word more, tendrils of hair fluttering airily with each step.

News of the forest queen’s divorce to the prince of the ice mountains spread quicker than a royal archer’s arrow. Some said she did so in a spectacle of dramatic tears and ring-throwing. Others gossipped that she slipped away into the woods with only a mere note to inform the prince of what was going on. And the most popular story going around was Yeri proclaiming the divorce void of any emotion, ignoring the prince when he dropped to his knees and begged her to stay.

Knowing both parties of the couple, you were sure that all three spin-offs were far from the truth.

Your suspicions were confirmed when Yeri called you back again, this time with a hint of a grin tracing her lips, a startling contrast to the previous two times she’s called you over. The duality of this woman, you thought with a shake of your head.

“What is it this time?” you asked with an annoyed facade, though it was clearly only skin-deep, for the curiosity swimming in your irises betrayed your true stand.

The queen in front of you was wearing a dress of black silk, flowing and cinching in all the right places. A white and canary flower hanging loosely from her ear, a vast juxtaposition from the darkness of her ensemble. She was the true epitome of allure.

“Black to look like you’re mourning to the simple-minded common folk,” you observed, “but the daffodil symbolizes a new, hopeful beginning. You’re not at all upset about your divorce.”

The corners of her carmine lips curled upwards. “Smart devil,” she replied, referencing back to when you had called her just the same. Devils weren’t ones to be flustered, but you supposed that was the closest thing to how you were feeling at the moment. Masking was a true talent of yours, however, because Yeri seemed not to notice at all. “I called you because I’m lonely.”

“It’s one thing after another with you, huh?” Your words lacked any bite, and you found yourself chuckling while threading your fingers through your hair. “Looking for an affair the same day you get divorced isn’t usually customary for humans. I’m not complaining, though,” you mumbled with a roguish grin, stepping closer to her and gently running the tips of your fingers against her forearms. You pointedly ignored the way the saccharine apple aroma she practically dripped of made you dizzy.

She drew a mock gasp at what you were insinuating, placing her frigid palms on your shoulders to push you back in a playful manner.

“So is it me you want or would you like me to brainwash someone to come and take pity on you?”

Dark irises rolled the leafy ceiling of her bedroom. “What if I asked you to stay?” Despite you barking out a laugh, she continued on. “I don’t need somebody else.”

Eyes flashing something dangerous, you drew yourself up to full height. “Don’t jest.”

“I’m not jesting.”

You knew she wasn’t, but you took a step backwards anyways. Much to your astonishment, she boldly rivaled that with her own foot propelling her forwards. Closer, ever so close.

“Why do you want to fraternize with the devil?”

“Why do you keep coming back whenever I call you?” she shot back quickly, leaning forward just as your spine brushed against a poster of her canopy bed. “I’m not giving you anything in return.”

The words had you reeling for some sort of witty comeback, but for the first time in your eons of life, a human had you dumbfounded. Why were you coming back?

“I…” you gaped at her earnest countenance. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” she echoed your words, almost smug.

Quiet unease filled the silence between you, and you narrowed your lids into slits. With but a gentle whistle of wind, the devil dissolved into a mass of shadows and glowing clementine-hued embers, leaving the queen alone in her chambers once more.

When the seasons change, it wasn’t a shift that happened overnight, but a feat that came with the patience of moons. Earth took its time in conversion, as did everything else. Time was a universal language everybody understood; unchangeable, solidary in its flow, ruthless and unforgiving.

Devils were no exception.

It took you time to come back to Yeri. You weren’t very sure how long. The stars shifted and the sun dipped past the horizon countless times while you waited for an answer to a question you never had the courage to ask. Quite pathetic of the devil, wasn’t it?

When the forest queen called for you a fourth time, you were tempted to decline.

But you found yourself teleporting without a second thought, materializing in a haze of dull light by the corner of her cavernous chambers.

Yeri watched from across the room. The beige turtleneck she wore clung to her like a second skin, a sheer corset cinched about her waist, embroidered flowers dancing across the fabric. A grey skirt fluttered with the wind that blew through the doorway to the balcony, singing a song of the forest. Golden jewelry dangled from her neck and ears, glinting sweetly in the fading sunlight. Her curled tresses had little wildflowers woven between the strands, rolling over her shoulders in waves. She was beautiful, and she wasn’t yours.

It took her no time to stride forward, bare feet padding silently across the smooth floors towards you. You didn’t move, standing your ground and eyeing her with indifference.

The grazes of her fingers against your blistering hot cheeks shouldn’t have taken you aback. Your pride was wounded the last time you saw her, and all a devil really had was their pride. Should you be mad at this woman for diminishing you down to a mess of discombobulated emotions and lost purpose? A twisted part of you was proud of her for doing so. Besting a devil at their own game wasn’t quite the everyday act.

Yeri hummed a pleased little sound when you grabbed at her wrist. Not to yank her away, no, but to pull her ever so close, breathing in her earthy scent. The walls of fire you once held up to closely guard your devilish heart, now doused by a simple pale of water. The forest queen did that. And you, quite frankly, were so very afraid of what she’d do with it now that it was hers.

“Took you a while to come back,” she whispered. You looked oh so bewitching in this light, a glimpse of heaven doused with the fits of hell, and Yeri found it hard to concentrate. Especially not with your searing fingers wrapped firmly around her forearm.

“Certainly didn’t take you a while to call,” you snorted, raising a brow at the queen. “You’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you?”

Even the flame-lit candles were envious of her radiance when she smiled, for they flickered and warbled at her mischievous beam. “I’m not ashamed to admit so. You look awful, by the way.”

“That’s a lie,” you teased, so close now that your nose brushed against her cheekbone. If an outsider were to walk in now, they would’ve thought the two of you were two lovers intimately dancing to a ghost’s silent song.

“You’re right. I lied. Thought you might enjoy that since you’re the devil, and all.” The queen looked at you with hooded eyes.

A breathy chuckle slipped past your lips. “I enjoyed that very much, yes.”

“I’m going to do something,” she uttered lowly, vague hesitation weaving through her words, “and you’re going to have to promise not to freak out.”

An off-hand sound of acknowledgement rumbled in your throat as the tip of your mouth quirked upwards. “My queen, I’m the devil. Of course I’m going to freak out. I live for chaos.”

Just as you took your time to come back to her, it took Yeri time to unfurl the folds of her heart, baring herself raw and unshielded. She trusted you with her life, and it was probably the most foolish decision she could ever think to make.

Her lips brushed against your jaw first, tentative and testing. Then the kisses trailed to your cheekbones, over to the lids of your fluttered-shut eyes, down to the bridge of your nose. When she melded her lips over yours, you knew you were done for. It was almost natural, how your arms snaked around her midriff, clutching at the threads of her corset with a yearning you’ve never felt before. The hands that cradled your jaw slid in different directions; one went to clutch at your arm in a fruitless attempt to ground herself, and the other gently scratched at the back of your neck, earning a pleased noise from you.

This was so wrong, and that was why it felt so good. If she was the fruit, you were the parasite. If she was the wine, you were the poison. If she was love, you were hatred.

When she pulled away from you with a dazzling smile reserved just for you, you swore the stars shattered and the moon collapsed and the sky broke into two. For this trembling certainly can’t be coming from you! Devils don’t tremble, for crying out loud!

“You called me your queen,” she observed, amused at your playful narrowing of eyes.

“A devil never lies, my queen,” you jested. The laugh she was about to bark out at your witty jab was stolen away from her as you kissed her once more. “I wouldn’t dare bow to somebody with a soul, yet it seems you’ve given me yours. Just what am I to do with you?”

Your words were paused to press a lasting kiss onto her cheek, right below her wide eyes, nervously awaiting your response. Studying her with mirth dancing in your irises, you crooned in acceptance, fondly nudging your nose against her supple cheek. She was yours, and you were hers. A white rose blooming amidst a tumultuous storm.

“And my, my, what a powerful pair we make, my queen.”

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mysticchessecake · 2 years ago

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Lego monkie kid Au's (May or may not get a full fanfic but it's a bit unlikely. Credit if you want to write fanfic though)

Also if if the title is linked means I wrote a fanfic with the idea or someone else did it! .

TW- MENTIONS OF Abandonment issues, Manipulation,Death, ect-

- Fallen Dreams (Based on Omari slightly)

Au where Mk's life is a bit messy now. Since his work and being monkie kid, he doesn't have time for anyone anymore. Mei and Mk's friendship is drifting sadly. Of course Mei wouldn't leave Mk.

But Mk's abandonment issues make him think that everyone will leave him. And Sun Wukong isn't what Mk expected. Sun Wukong is cold to Mk, due to him knowing that mortals live short lives and dosent want to get attached to Mk. Mk thinks that's because he's an embarrassment to Monkie king.

So made his dreams a coping mechanism. In his dreams, his eyes are covered with flowers, leaving his mouth to be seen. His hair is more fluffy and poofy. Everyone is happy and barely any bad traits. In the real world, everyone is kinda worried that Mk is spending so much time sleeping and dosent want to be woken up.

(Bonus points if LBD finds out of Mk's coping mechanism and use it to her advantage)

- Lonely voice (Based on repeated consequences on A03, read tags before reading)

Mk is stuck in a Calabash. In the calabash, "everyone" hates him. They hurt him. Gaslight him. ect. Of course it's not real and everyone cares for him. But Mk dosent know that.

He thinks that everyone hates him. Except for one, Macaque. Macaque basically manipulates Mk into thinking that he's the only one who cares for Mk. And Mk is being a brat for not realizing that his "friends" hate him now.

Of course in the real world everyone is worried since Mk has been gone for like 2 months now. And when he gets out of the Calabash, he's... different... Think of him like Jinx from Arcane. He's having hallucinations or delusions that his friends hate him. And unfortunately developeds Stockholm syndrome to Macaque.

(Bonus points if everyone cries in the end and it's not a happy ending...?)

- Host fit for a demon (Based on @ cinna.mei.roll au on tiktok )

LBD puts a fillet on Mk. And LBD threatens Mk that she will hurt the host.

In S2EP5 LBD puts a fillet on Mk. Mk being the hardcore Monkie king fan he is. Is terrified. LBD threatens him if he dosent do what she wants. She will hurt the host. Mk is scared for the host and offers LBD to use the fillet on him.

(Mk extremely downplaying the pain of the fillet)

LBD decides to accept but still hurt the host if MK isn't complying. Also LBD holds Mk captive. So his friends are worried for him. LBD hurts Mk enough to make him do things without question.

(Bonus points if Mk beats Sun Wukong up)

- Cold stares (Based of Shattered destiny on A03)

After the events of S2EP5, Mk can't sleep. He can never sleep remembering that he stupidly accidentally helped LBD. He tried to take his mind off it but any slight thing that can be related to LBD makes him freeze. He's terrified and keeps slowing down at work. Pigsy started to worry for Mk.

He noticed that anytime Mk is near something cold he looks scared. And he started to notice bags under his eyes and slowing down at work. Pigsy tried to reach out to Mk, but Mk always reassured Pigsy that he's fine. It gotten so bad that Tang started to worry for Mk.

Mk dosent like people worrying about him. He started to find a way of fixing this mess. He started having nightmares? visions? Anyway it's trying to tell him something. A way to get rid of the LBD. It does requires him to "Give up a worthy worthless body" So he gives up his body. Unsurprisingly it was actually LBD.

(Bonus points if Mk half dies)

- Ghost (Based on Self destruction au on A03 and some elements taken from Puppet boy on A03)

This idea of fanfic is basically Mk trying to be alive again and or him trying to leave the mortal realm because his soul is stuck there.

Soo Mk dies. When he had his talk with the LBD. He wakes up to everyone near him. Crying, Mk is asking why is everyone crying and why can't he feel anything? Then he gets up and realize that he's a ghost. His body is there.... dead...

Then he sees Pigsy getting mad at Wukong, but Tang stopped him. Mk's hearing is a bit muffled.. As he walked near Mei who's crying her eyes out... He accidentally went through her.. She felt a slight shiver..

(Bonus points if Wukong tries to feed him the peach of immortality and tries to go to the underworld to erase Mk's name)

- New home (Idea from the fanfic You can stay here on A03)

How Mk became Pigsy's and Tang adoptive parents.

Young Mk is near a noodle shop. He's trying to find leftover cash from the noodle shop to buy some noodles. Mk likes this noodle shop because they actually let him inside. Other noodle shops would not let him inside because he's a "dirty child".

Also because the chef would occasionally lend him some clothes. And the random man who's always sitting near in the noodle shop would tell him stories of the great Monkie king. They also give him some other items but Mk usually dosent accepts.

Mk dosent really have a home. His parents are somewhere...? And he sometimes stays with a girl named Mei. He doesn't want to be a bother to them though so he would just sleep near the noodle shop.

Until the chef had enough and brought him inside and got him clean and basically adopted him.

(Bonus points if this is a happy ending)

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years ago

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Here’s chapter ten! I do believe this is the first chapter with absolutely no dialogue! I hope you enjoy it regardless!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Ten: Soft Shadows

Redemption is a hard process. Yet the cycles seem to make it easy for one particular demon.

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Redemption was a tricky thing. It required so many different events to happen in a certain order that it rarely occurred.

The first step was to commit some form of wrongdoing.

This was unfortunately the easiest part to do and most people never moved on to the next.

The second step was to realize and acknowledge your actions as wrong or harmful.

Many had justified their own actions over the course of existence and never saw themselves as doing wrong. Worse, many knew their behavior to be cruel and simply did not care or relished the feelings of power it gave them.

The final step was perhaps the most difficult to achieve.

One had to feel genuine remorse for their actions and wish to change.

Very few actually made it this far in the process as it usually required a catalyst of some sort. A personal revelation after going too far or someone laying your actions out clinically so you couldn’t justify them. Even a single act of unconditional kindness and trust could make someone wish to change.

Then came the truly hard part: actively changing your actions.

The path to redemption was not a short one. It took a lifetime of pursuit and dedicated work to not slip into the temptation of reverting back to who you were before.

Closing yourself off and pretending you didn’t care was easy, after all. What was difficult was being honest with yourself and allowing yourself to feel.

It helped if you had people around you to offer support and love. If it was from the same people who you had harmed originally, all the better.

But earning forgiveness wasn’t the goal of redemption. Some would refuse to give it, and you would have to live with that as it was their right to do so. It may hurt, but you had hurt them first and have no right to demand it even if you had changed.

Being redeemed wasn’t for the benefit of one’s victims. The hope was that you could grow into being a better person. It was for your own personal peace of mind. Whether others choose to accept that you’ve changed was not up to you, but you must continue onward regardless if you were to ever live with yourself.

Tang was intimately familiar with this process. The amount of cycles where he had been some sort of villain was not small.

The first three steps came easy to him. Feeling remorse for his wrongdoings and wishing to change were simple for one stuck jumping through time.

He could even spot a suitable catalyst for his potential ‘redemption’ fairly quickly. MK’s kindness and belief of the good in most people had certainly been useful on many occasions.

Having the whole process down to a science himself, Tang was even able to pull others into changing their ways sometimes. The Demon Bull family were commonly caught in his actions whenever he was a part of it.

(Having Red Son as a younger sibling had been interesting.)

What was bemusing to the scholar was that throughout the cycles there was one person who would constantly be redeemed, even without his meddling.

The Six Eared Macaque was an interesting puzzle.

He seemed to fit into the group that knew their actions were harmful, but did not care. Yet time and time again, he would become one of their allies.

Tang hadn’t known much about the demon early on in the cycles, but the knowledge about him came inevitably.

Macaque had been a “beloved friend” of Sun Wukong in the past. At some point, they had a falling out, Macaque seeing it as being left behind by Wukong.

The scholar had actually experienced part of that tension back in that cycle with the time traveling cactus.

So it seemed feelings of betrayal, jealousy, and abandonment were Macaque’s main motivations.

That last one was eerily similar to MK’s insecurities.

Macaque was very much like both Wukong and MK when Tang stopped to think about it. All three had repressed emotional trauma and coped with them in wildly unhealthy ways. Usually by pretending they weren’t there.

Macaque channeled those repressed emotions into schemes of revenge. He used lies and illusions to get what he wanted. He was condescending and sarcastic to his enemies, seemingly cruel and uncaring.

And it was all a facade.

At least, most of the time. There were a few cycles where Macaque was genuinely a despicable person who showed no remorse.

As much as he tried to hide it, Macaque was actually a very emotional being. It was quite easy for him to get attached to one or more of their group and slowly his cruel streak would fade.

Macaque’s catalyst for change was usually a person. It differed from cycle to cycle, but someone would show him some kindness or trust and before Tang knew it they would have another sarcastic immortal monkey as a part of the team.

MK was obviously the most common person to get the demon to change. Macaque was not lying when he called him a good kid. Having four father figures in those cycles seemed to be good for MK.

Wukong, while usually not the initial catalyst, tended to play a big part in Macaque’s redemption. Being old friends, they knew each other extremely well. While that tended to lead to a lot of arguments, it also led to them picking up where they had left off their previous relationship.

It didn’t really bother Tang that said relationships were often romantic in nature. Watching the two monkeys cuddle when they thought no one was looking was just too cute.

Mei was an interesting choice for Macaque to become attached to. He often ended up becoming her mentor, teaching her how to properly wield the Dragon Blade. Both of their sarcastic natures worked surprisingly well together.

The biggest surprise had been Pigsy.

That cycle, Macaque was basically under house arrest as ordered by Heaven. Pigsy, not wanting the manipulative demon to be anywhere near MK, forced him to stay at their apartment. It was some time later when Tang had woken late in the night to some loud noises and had left his room to complain.

Only to find Macaque pressing a kiss to Pigsy’s cheek before fleeing his room, pursued by a flustered and angry pig demon soon after.

It was strange, but Pigsy’s gruff and silent compassion meshed really well with Macaque’s easy going and nonchalant attitude. The scholar found their affection towards each other endearing.

Tang supposed it was only a matter of time before he himself acted as Macaque’s catalyst.

The cycle had started early, about a year before the original events. While working at the library, Tang had been approached by what he immediately recognized as Macaque in his human disguise. He had requested help on learning more about The Journey to the West for a school assignment. Tang, deciding to play along, offered himself up as an expert on the story and they began meeting weekly to go over it.

Macaque truly did not know the full events of the Journey in this cycle and seemed upset at several points, such as learning about the fillet used to inflict pain on Wukong. Over time, the pair began to meet up more often and discuss things other than the famous book.

He really should have expected falling in love.

Macaque was still sarcastic as ever, but never malicious. He made jokes and comparisons that had Tang’s side aching from how hard he laughed. He was quick to pick up Tang’s quirks and preferences, surprising him with his favorite foods or a nice new set of bookmarks.

He was still Macaque, but this softer side of him made Tang’s chest flutter.

As he lay in bed with his partner, (who had still yet to reveal himself to Tang, but he was patient), Tang couldn’t help but feel a new place in his heart open up for the shadow demon. He had already been considering adding Macaque into his family due to the many times he had joined them, and this just solidified that decision.

Oh Tang knew the cycles where he never changed would be painful. Watching as someone he loved went down a path of self destruction wasn’t easy. But he held onto the knowledge that there would always be the cycles where Macaque did become a part of their family.

As long as the possibility existed, there was hope that the same could happen in his own timeline.

If he ever got back that is.

Tang shoved that increasingly reoccurring thought away and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sounds of Macaque’s breathing lull him to sleep.

----------

A NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHES!

Macaque is the fandom’s darling bad boy, so of course I had to have a chapter discussing his many, MANY redemption’s over the many fics and AU’s.

In particular, (Teach Me to Be) Tougher Than Leather, Softer Than Silk by *checks notes* HOLY SHIT! I had no idea this was by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off until just now! *ahem* Anyway it is an AMAZING fic with a practically never used pair and I highly recommend it.

Tang seems to have a type doesn’t he? Demons that seem emotionally distant, but are big softies at heart. It’s probably the purring that gets him. ;P Also does Tang/Macaque have a ship name? If not I'm dubbing it InkyPages.

Don’t worry Tang! I’m sure those intrusive thoughts will go away all on their own.

Important notice! I’m probably going to be putting this fic on the back burner for a bit because I really want to write about the cycle mentioned here. Not as part of Scattered Cicadas, but as its own thing. So keep an eye out for that!

Until next time!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #Macaque #Six Eared Macaque #ninja-knox-ur-sox-off #(Teach Me to Be) Tougher Than Leather Softer Than Silk #MK #Mei #Pigsy #Sun Wukong #squidinknoodleshipping #Tang/Macaque #what IS their ship name anyway?#InkyPages #InkyPagesShipping #LEGO Monkie Kid

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samstree · 4 years ago

Text

You are too well tangled in my soul (4/5)

In which Geralt tries to apologize, Jaskier has some unexpected encounters and Roach is the best.

(love confession, kaer morhen, 6.1k, no warnings)

read on AO3.

War breaks out.

Nilfgaard mercilessly scorches the continent, and Jaskier survives. The next time he sees Geralt, there’s a lost princess in tow.

The girl has pale blonde hair, just as Jaskier remembers from when he performed at her birthdays. Her green eyes are big and wary, staring at the bard from behind Geralt’s armored bulk.

Jaskier wouldn’t blame her, from what he learned from his encounters with Nilfgaard the girl must have been through hell. And from what he heard about Cintra, well, she has more demons to run from other than the evil army. She looks exhausted too, hair dirty and eyes alert, studying Jaskier intensely.

“You were at my birthday. You sang the songs.” The princess’s crisp voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, Princess Cirilla. I was at three of your birthdays, though you were too young to remember the first two.” he bows. “Jaskier the bard, at your service.”

She softens, nodding at Jaskier’s gesture. Her lips tug upward.

“Just Ciri.”

“Ciri, then.” Jaskier smiles at her.

“I loved your singing. It was beautiful.” she bites her lips, pausing, before putting her arm around the witcher’s. “Geralt only said we were looking for a friend. I didn’t know it was you.”

The mention of the name snaps Jaskier’s attention back to the witcher, who remains motionless and silent. This entire time, Geralt has been staring at Jaskier’s face, like he could blink and the bard would disappear. Jaskier stares back, and the bruise in his chest throbs anew.

“A friend, uh?” he feigns nonchalance and fails, suddenly his throat feeling dry. “Now you use the word, after all these years. Thought you’d keep insisting on not being my friend until the end of time. Thought I gave you life’s blessing –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt exhales. The word is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to stop the bard from landing a blow. The witcher doesn’t seem to have more words, despite continuing to look at Jaskier with remorseful sorrow.

Good. The pettiest part of Jaskier thrills at his regret, after all he’s the one who spewed all the venom on top of that mountain.

But one look at Geralt, Jaskier realized that he is just as tired and disheveled as the girl, if not more so. Being on the run from Nilfgaard is no fun, he learned that from personal experience.

Knowing Geralt, he is going to neglect his needs in favor of Ciri’s, gritting his teeth through everything. Jaskier finds himself searching all over him for injuries, familiar worry bubbling of its own volition.

Jaskier cannot even stay mad at him for long. Damn him.

“Why are you looking for me then?” he asks.

“I –” Geralt pauses. “Nilfgaard is looking for us. Hunting us. They want something, and they are willing to raise armies to chase us across the Continent.”

He tightens his hold on Ciri. The young princess looks away with a haunted expression.

“And they are also trying to hunt down whoever might know your location. They’ll torture them for the information.” Jaskier adds. His two near escapes are too vivid in his mind. The first time he only got away by the skin of his teeth. It turns out he’s not so bad with a dagger when faced with two Nilfgaardian footsoldiers.

As for the second time, he may have had help from an old friend. Not that Yennefer would be thrilled if he ever called her that. The story of his life, he thinks, it seems to be.

Realization dawns in Geralt’s eyes. “You already know they are looking for you. Are you – did they get to you, Jaskier?”

“Get to me? No,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? Your secrets are safe, Geralt. Not that I knew your whereabouts for the past year. They didn’t get anything from me, if that’s your worry.”

“No. Fuck –” Geralt curses under his breath, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Jaskier challenges him, raising an eyebrow. Geralt struggles for words and starts to look like his usual brooding self again. It is Ciri who speaks up.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with us. It’s the safest place on the Continent,” the girl says.

Jaskier breathes, stunned. Of course, it makes sense for them to go. It is a home for Geralt. He remembers the first time Geralt told him about the witcher keep, in that greenhouse, a lifetime ago. To him, it is as much of a myth now as it was back then.

“You are sweet, Ciri. But I don’t think Geralt would want that.”

There’s a bitter tang in those words. Ciri scrunches up her brows, confused. “But he’s the one who wanted –”

“What Ciri meant,” Geralt interrupts, “was that Nilfgaard is still out there looking for us. When they can’t, they’ll come for you again.” Desperation bleeds into his tone. Or is it annoyance? “Come with us, Jask. You’ll be safe in Kaer Morhen.”

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier’s resolution is swaying despite his pride.

“Jaskier…”

“Geralt.” He stays emotionless, waiting for the Witcher’s reasoning, but it doesn’t come.

It is the lost Cintran princess who decides for Jaskier.

“Can you just come with us?” her voice is uncertain, and it tugs at Jaskier’s heart. “Please?”

Jaskier looks into her green eyes and only sees the loss she endured. The fall of Cintra reached Jaskier like a punch in the gut. He thought Geralt’s Child Surprise – the bright-eyed little girl who danced to his songs – was lost with it, so when those soldiers started questioning him about her escape, Jaskier only felt relief. Now, the lone wolf stands protectively next to the lost lion cub.

Jaskier is glad Geralt went to find her, truly.

He finds himself nodding, and Ciri brightens up ever so slightly.

“So, you are the boy?”

The dark-haired witcher says upon meeting Jaskier for the first time at the gate of Kaer Morhen when Geralt and Ciri have gone to stable the horse. He’s the same height and build as Geralt, only his shoulders are just a bit wider. Unlike Geralt, his hair is a muddy brown, and three nasty scars run down the right side of his cheek, making him look almost grotesque.

“Pardon?”

“The boy Geralt kept seeing.” His eyes fix on Jaskier with amusement, the golden color eerily identical to Geralt’s.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone else –” Jaskier is rather surprised that another witcher knows about Geralt’s condition. “Yes, that’s me. But I’m hardly a boy anymore.” He extends a hand. “Jaskier.”

“Eskel.” The Witcher takes it with a friendly smile. Huh, not all of them are broody and rude.

“So you know about our…” Jaskier trails off for lack of a descriptor. Their bond? Their relationship? They certainly are not in one.

“Not much. If you’ve known my brother for this long, you’d know how little he talks.” Eskel offers an understanding pat on Jaskier’s back. “He just came back here one year and couldn’t shut up about an annoying bard. Then he came back another year. Disappeared in the middle of the day, and scared the shit out of us. We’d thought he was cursed out of existence by some angry mage. When he came back, out of thin air too, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, only the same bard. As a boy.”

It makes sense, according to however little they know about the mechanism of it. Wintering at the witcher keep is the longest Geralt is away from the bard, so destiny has to drag him to Lettenhove. It would be hard to sail away from your anchor.

“Guess I’m too much of a nuisance. He can’t escape me even here, in his own home.”

“He never –” Eskel seems surprised at Jaskier’s remark. “I might need to have words with my brother, bard. And he was only upset because he worried for your safety.”

He smiles tightly. “It’s kind of you to say, Eskel. Though you don’t need to protect my feelings. I understand now. I would take myself off of his hands if I could.”

Too bad he can’t. Even if the invasion blows over, destiny would still work against Geralt’s attempt at free will at every opportunity.

He ignores Eskel’s inquisitive eyes as they stroll into the stone castle when Geralt and Ciri rejoin them.

Geralt is trying to apologize.

He knows by the way Geralt follows him outside, and onto the trail behind the keep, somehow with guilt written all over his posture. It’s a nice place for a walk and for Jaskier to clear his head and compose under the pine trees.

Geralt has tried several times in the past few days. Every time they are left alone, the witcher assumes an expectant look on his face and begins to find words. Every time Jaskier interrupts him before it starts, making up whatever poor excuses he can find. Every time Geralt swallows and lets him go. He puts on a stoic face but Jaskier always sees the disappointed droop in those amber eyes that anyone else would have missed.

Jaskier can’t avoid it anymore, between the fresh smell of pine – his favorite scent in the world – and the sky, there’s nowhere to hide, so he stops to face it.

“Just say whatever you want to say,” he lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt blurts out without a beat. “I never should have said what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, Jask. I was upset and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

Jaskier blinks.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve followed me for twenty years. You’ve known me for even longer. Fuck, Jaskier. Your whole life, you’ve known me, and yet you chose to stay.”

“I did,” he whispers, “but you tried to push me away, like everything else destiny forced upon you.”

The hurt in those golden eyes is unbearable to watch, so Jaskier averts the burn of his gaze to take a deep breath. The smell of pine fills his lungs, crisp and soothing.

“It was a mistake. I know that now, Jaskier.” The contrite is unmistakable. Geralt’s gravelly voice is as pained as Jaskier feels. From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier notices Geralt reach into his pocket for something. It is a small notebook, leather-bound and abused at the edges.

It’s his notebook.

It’s their notebook.

“I’ve kept records of everything, just like you did.” he holds out the book for Jaskier to take. “I’ve seen the future, you –”

“No!” Jaskier steps away as if the book might burn him. “You can’t use it against me, Geralt. You think I’ve never seen the future? I know where we are going. I know I’ll still choose you, because how can I not?” his voice breaks at the possibility of him leaving Geralt by choice. “But it doesn’t make it alright. I can’t just forgive you and pretend we are fine, just because the future says we should be.”

Geralt lowers his hand and the book with it. “I meant that…I understand you now. Why you would stand by me when no one else does, when it’s so much easier to just leave.”

“And how exactly did you arrive at this grand revelation?”

Geralt softens, his lips quick upward ever so slightly. “I saw you. In a little cottage by the sea, years from now, happy.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches. He’s so used to knowing all different versions of Geralt, so used to having the upper hand in this little dance, that the idea of his own future laid out like this makes him queasy.

“You told me – or will tell me, rather – why you spent your entire life choosing me when I’ve done nothing but push you away.” Geralt’s voice breaks at the obvious regret in it.

Because I love you, Jaskier thinks. I’ve loved you for too long.

He’s become so familiar with the notion it’s as easy as breathing.

“What do you want, then?”

“A chance. To prove myself again,” Geralt pleads. “To prove myself a worthy companion to you. Because you are my friend, my best friend. You have been since you were so young and I was just blind to it. Jaskier, I –”

I love you.

“– I choose you too. If you’ll let me show you. For the rest of my life, I’ll prove it to you every day, because I –”

I love you.

“– I love you.”

The words come out soft and reverent, the whisper so careful as if to avoid the birds overhearing him. Geralt stills after the confession, his eyes fixed on Jaskier in earnest.

For a moment Jaskier believes the declaration an echo of his imagination, conjured up from years of longing and heartbreak. But when he holds his breath and looks into Geralt’s resolved eyes, the truth washes over him like a cool shower on an autumn morning.

Deep in those ember eyes is the same affection he’s seen many times, during those too-short visits from his older Geralt, in the teasing smirks he carried at the corner of his mouth, or in the sweetness hidden behind his kiss, under a cold Cintran sky and addled by too much ale. It’s in the way Geralt takes him apart with deft fingers and gentle touches, over and over again throughout the years.

It’s the same love that propelled Geralt to ask for his trust and his faith when this moment comes.

“You love me.” Jaskier muses.

“I do. I have… for a while now.” Geralt’s breath forms in the crisp mountain air. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jask. But please believe me when I say it. I love you. It’s the truest feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Without any djinn magic, or destiny deciding what’s best. Please, at least have this much faith in me.”

After all this time Geralt still thinks it’s possible for Jaskier to not love him back.

I’m going to make mistakes, the older Geralt once said, don’t lose faith in me.

He made a promise after all.

“Okay,” Jaskeir exhales.

“Okay?”

When he looks into the amber glow again Geralt looks expectant.

“Okay,” Jaskier repeats, “You have it. A chance for us to try again, if you want it to go back to… before.”

Geralt exhales like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “It won’t be like before. I’ll do better, I give you my word.”

The sincerity is palpable in Geralt’s expression. The words come out so solemn and he’s clenched his jaw tightly. It looks like he just might break something if Jaskier doesn’t give him an out.

A smiles tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. And they say he’s the dramatic one.

“Oh, relax, you big oaf, before you hurt yourself. Of course I believe in you. It might be the most words I’ve ever heard from you. Didn’t think it was possible.”

He pats Geralt on the arm, before resting his hand there and squeezes. If Geralt leans into the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“You,” Jaskeir continues, “You are forgiven, Geralt. I’ve always known I’d forgive you. You are not the only one who’s seen the future. Even if fate didn’t tell me to, I would still know you to be the best man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I would choose to stay by your side every time.”

The shuddering breath that chokes out Geralt’s throat is almost like a sob. Rumors say witchers can’t cry, but Jaskier learned it not to be true long ago, and he can see how much Geralt is affected right now.

He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear before resting his hand on the spill of silver on his shoulder, and revels in the familiar feeling of silky hair against his palm.

“As for the other thing.” Jaskier thinks back on Geralt’s heartfelt confession, not sure if he has truly wrapped his head around it. “I think… I’ll need some time before we can do something about it.”

Geralt nods, his warm hand coming up to capture Jaskier’s wrist in a loose grip, the pad of his thumb stroking slightly again. Jaskier’s chest warms at the motion.

“Take all the time you need, Jask. I’ll be right here.”

They spend the winter in the keep, in this safe bubble they created.

Ciri’s progress is obvious even to Jaskier’s untrained eyes. Her stance becomes more confident every day, her moves faster. The clanking of blunt swords echoes above the training ground as Jaskier watches from a bench in the corner, plucking his lute absent-mindedly.

The lion cub is starting to look like her grandmother, with her hair tied back and the sword cutting through the air with force.

The rise in confidence is doing her wonders. Her smile is becoming more often as winter settles in. The first time Ciri laughed out loud at the usual tomfoolery Lambert starts at dinner table, all four witchers and Jaskier stopped to stare at her for a brief moment before joining in.

Later that night, Geralt got emotional when it was just him and Jaskier, cleaning up in the kitchen.

“It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Geralt’s throat bobbles when he says, and Jaskier’s heart breaks for them both, so he takes the plates from the Witcher’s hands and pulls him in for a hug, one that’s a little too tight.

In the courtyard, flurries of snow fall steadily as Ciri disarms Geralt with a twist of her wrist, the heavier sword flying off to the side. She squeaks in excitement.

“Take that, old man!”

Geralt goes to collect his blunt weapon, his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. “You only did it because I let you, Ciri. Your enemies are not gonna let you disarm them for practice.”

Her pride morphs into a slight pout before it’s tucked away by her regal stance. They’ll make a warrior princess out of her after all.

“You just can’t let me have this one, can you?”

“Yeah, old man,” Jaskier chimes in. “Just admit your loss. I’m sure the White Wolf should know when he’s beaten.”

From Geralt’s glare, Jaskier knows he’s enjoying this too much, but he just can’t get the proud grin off of his face. Ciri sends him a smug smile when she puts away her weapon and gears.

From a distance, Lambert and Eskel are sheathing their training swords as well when Jaskier notices the snow falling harder by the minute, sending a shiver through his body despite the heavy coat wrapped around him. Ugh, his fingers are numb now.

“All right?” Geralt is all packed up, cheeks flushed from the exercise. He’s only wearing a simple tunic and yet it looks like the cold does not affect him at all. Ridiculous witcher biology.

Mischief lights up in Jaskier’s mind when he puts down the lute and walks towards Geralt, before putting his freezing palms flush against the Witcher’s neck.

“Jaskier, what – Fuck!”

He expects Geralt’s usual grunts and retaliation at the blatant offense. Roughhousing has never been a stranger to them, especially now that they are at ease in their friendship again.

What he does not expect is the concern that appears in Geralt’s eyes after a moment of shock and the warm hands that gently cover his.

“Oh Jask, you are freezing.” Geralt’s brows furrow in seriousness, calloused fingers starting to rub the back of Jaskier’s hands in a slow rhythm. Now that he notices, the heat radiating off of Geralt’s skin is lovely, tingling the numbness in his rigid hands and sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. “Gods, you might get frostbite like this. Don’t you have gloves?”

“Er – that’s not…” Jaskier stammers, suddenly aware of their closeness and the lack of everyone else on the training ground. Thank fuck they’ve all gone inside before his foolish prank. “I – I lost them…?”

Now Jaskier is the one blushing, but Geralt pays no mind to his embarrassment and continues to rub heat back into his exposed skin.

“I’ll make you new ones then. Can’t let a lutist lose his fingers,” Geralt murmurs.

The urge to kiss this sweet man is overwhelming, Jaskier has to look away from the beautiful golden yellow to calm his fluttering heart. It’d be too soon. He’s still raw from what went down in the past year.

Thankfully Ciri calls for them to get inside before they freeze over. Jaskier pulls away to answer her, immediately feeling empty without the warm touch. Now he’ll settle for walking to the great hall where a hearth is lit with Geralt by his side.

A week later, Jaskier finds a pair of newly knitted gloves on his bed. They are made with Geralt’s favorite wool – a thick, soft material – and fingerless so he can play. When he slips them on, the urge to track Geralt down in the keep and kiss him all over fills him again.

Roach bites down on the second apple Jaskier offers her and munches gracelessly.

Jaskier pats her mane while she tries to chew off the fringe on his doublet. Now that he’s reunited with her master, Jaskier can spoil the mare as much as he wants. Not that anyone objected before. The mare clearly has a soft spot for the bard, Geralt is just too stubborn to admit it.

He is just saying goodbye to Roach when the familiar swoosh of magic startles him.

Destiny’s pull rarely works when they are together, so much so that Jaskier has almost forgotten about it for the months he’s within Kaer Morhen’s walls. On top of that, what greets him is not the bulk of a witcher.

Standing by the stalls is a scared little boy.

Jaskier is terrible with guessing children’s age, but this boy is definitely no more than six or seven, wearing plain summer clothes and holding a small bucket for dear life. The boy has a head full of dark curly hair and tears streaking down his cheeks. His brown eyes are wide and full of terror.

“Ma? Where are you?” he calls out, voice horse from crying.

Jaskier is stuck where he stands, too shocked to react. Somewhere next to him, Roach snorts nervously at the volume of the child’s cry.

Geralt once told him how he ended up in Vesemir’s care, when both of them had too much to drink on the eve of Belleteyn many years ago. They only meant to celebrate a hunt well done and Jaskier’s successful performance at the festival, but the drinks kept coming on the courtesy of the pub owner. Before Jaskier knew it, the Witcher was too gone and started to get melancholic in his inebriation.

For once in their lives, Jaskier was the one with some sanity left and promptly put Geralt back to their shared bed.

With the sound of people singing and dancing around bonfires in the distance, Geralt curled into himself, looking uncharacteristically small, and told Jaskier the last time he saw his mother.

“I stood there for so long, by the road. But she was gone,” Geralt slurred the words. “I kept waiting for her…”

Those words, combined with too much ale, broke Jaskier into a million pieces.

“It was so long ago. I don’t even remember what she looks like, the color of her eyes. Or my eyes, before…What was the color of my eyes?”

Jaskier had no answer.

That night, he listened as Geralt drifted off, thinking the witcher would forget about the confession come morning. Or was it Geralt who thought Jaskier never remembered? No matter what reason, Geralt never talked about it again and Jaskier respected that.

And here Geralt is, no more than seven, on what is probably the worst day of his life – having just been abandoned by his mother by the side of the road. He looks confused and cried-out, still clinging to the bucket so hard that his tiny knuckles are turning white.

His eyes are brown.

That’s all Jaskier can think.

The boy’s tears keep falling, and whatever heartbreak Jaskier felt on the night of Belleteyn, it’s not a match for now.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Jaskier shushes as gently as possible. He lowers himself in front of the boy, keeping the movement slow just to not upset him further. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where is my ma?” young Geralt sniffles, and Jaskier doesn’t know how to answer that. The layers he’s wearing clearly cannot hold out the cold in the dead of winter. The boy is shivering.

“I’m sorry I don’t know where she is. But, here, put this on.” Jaskier shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the boy’s small frame, half of it pooling on the ground. He tries to coax the bucket out of the boy’s hands but he grips tighter.

“Where is she? Where did you take me?” the boy demands in panic.

“I promise I haven’t taken you anywhere, okay? Ger –” Jaskier catches himself. He’s a complete stranger to the child. He shouldn’t know him. “It’s too cold out here. We can go inside and wait for her there. Is that all right?”

The boy shakes his head. “Ma’s coming back to find me. I need to stay.”

“Okay, okay.” Jaskier tries not to panic, but he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even know where to put his hands so he tightens the coat around the boy’s shoulders. “How about this, I’ll find some help for us. Maybe someone from that castle can help. I don’t even know what would happen if they see you like this but…what other option do we have, eh?”

Before he can even get up, Jaskier finds the boy dropping the bucket and clinging to the sleeve of his doublet, the water spilling everywhere.

“No, don’t leave,” the boy says weakly, “Please.”

The boy’s chubby cheeks are streaked with tears, turning red in the mountain air. Jaskier wipes the wetness away with the pad of his thumb, his other arm still in the boy’s grip.

“All right. I won’t leave then, I promise.” Jaskier does his best to smile reassuringly. The ache in his chest makes it difficult but against all odds, it works. The young boy calms down just a little.

“I’ll stay with you, all right? But for now… do you want to make some new friends?”

Jaskier introduces the child to Roach, and he gets less afraid as soon as he sees the horse and reaches out to pet her. With their ridiculous height difference, it looks almost comical. The mare, ever the sweetheart, lowers her head as if she senses something familiar in the boy. She nuzzles his little hand and his eyes light up.

No matter how young, it seems Geralt will always enjoy Roach’s company above anyone else’s. Jaskier watches in wonder at the exchange before him. The boy’s distress dissipates gradually as the mare licks him and showers him in affection.

“Can I keep her?” the child giggles as Roach chews on his hair.

Jaskier smiles, “Sadly no, but maybe you’ll see her again. Who knows.”

All his life, Jaskier has known Geralt as the powerful witcher, his friend and protector. But right here, he’s just another ordinary child who loves giant animals. Only his future holds something no child should ever have to endure.

Jaskier wishes life wouldn’t have to burden this gentle boy, harden him into the warrior that he is now. This moment could last forever for all he cares, so this young boy wouldn’t need to go back to face the path ahead.

He doesn’t know how long they have here, undisturbed by the four witchers inside the keep, or the magic pulling them apart.

“Can I tell you something?” Jaskier says as the child runs his fingers through Roach’s mane. He turns around to look at the bard curiously with his beautiful brown eyes. “Do you know you’re a very good boy? And when you grow up, you’ll become a very good person.”

“Ma says I should do good.”

“She’s right.”

“And doing good is hard… sometimes.”

Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat. “That too. Life is difficult, unfair even. But you are strong, stronger than you’ll ever believe. Remember this, and you’ll find a way.”

“I’m strong?” the boy looks at Jaskier expectantly. His tiny frame is drowned in Jaskier’s coat.

“The strongest.” the bard nods.

“Like a knight?”

“Better than a knight.”

The smile that lights up the boy’s rosy cheeks is the most wonderful thing Jaskier has ever seen, better than the northern lights on these mountains. But their moment seems to have come to an end.

The swoosh of magic Jaskier knows by heart brushes by his ear, and Roach suddenly brays anxiously in her stall.

“I feel weird.” The panic returns to the boy’s voice.

“It’s okay. It means we have to say goodbye.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Never.”

“But why do we have to say goodbye?” his tiny voice gets tight and scared once more. Jaskier shushes him gently.

“Because we’ll see each other again.”

“And horsie too?”

“Her too.” Jaskier nods solemnly.

The boy waves nervously at Jaskier, and then the mare. His big brown eyes bore into Jaskier’s with hope and trust, a trust that will be returned decades from now, for him at least.

“Goodbye.”

Once again, Jaskier is left alone. Snow falls silently in the courtyard like it has been for days.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Jaskier goes through dinner without a word, no matter how the four witchers try to engage with him.

Eskel is his usual self, nice and respectful, not prodding after noticing Jaskier in a weird mood. It’s something Lambert physically cannot do, because he constantly asks Jaskier what is wrong, trying to get a response out of him.

“You smell miserable, buttercup, like you are about to pass out.”

Jaskier imagines the tight smile he offers is not the most convincing, since everyone only gets more concerned. Ciri puts her hand on his arm as a silent question, and when she can’t get an answer she starts brooding just like Geralt.

Jaskier would laugh at their likeness if not for his mind racing so fast.

Geralt must have noticed the moment he came back from the stables. He has not let Jaskier out of his sight since, his worry silent but not pushing. After dinner, Jaskier can still feel the weighted gaze on his back, following him all the way back to the bedroom.

He leads Geralt into his room at the end of the hallway and shuts the door. With a soft click of the door, Jaskier turns to throw himself at the witcher with a force that would have knocked over any other man, but Geralt only catches his momentum, solid and steady. He buries his nose into Geralt’s shoulder and lets the familiar smell of pine and soap fill his senses.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest, deep and patient. “You know, Lambert was right. You smell so…sad.”

“I made you a promise.” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by Geralt’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I made you a promise. Years ago for me, and years from now for you. To always have faith in you, even when you make mistakes.” Jaskier extracts his limbs and looks into the confusion in the flowing amber. He presses their lips together, sweet and lingering, like they have all the time in the world. The kiss tastes like the lost years between them, all the laughter and heartaches, the lust and yearning, and the dust and smoke from war. He pulls away.

The last time he kissed Geralt, it was by the side of a road, full of rage and hurt. This time, it’s hope that rises like a winter sun, cozy but not sweltering.

“This is me keeping that promise.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt swallows, composing himself, “You know I won’t hold it against you. It’s not fair for you to be pressured into this just for something I haven’t asked of you yet. I meant it when I said you can take all the time you need, because I did fuck up, and I’m so –”

“Don’t apologize again,” Jaskier interrupts, “I know how sorry you feel, how you’ll still feel even years from now. Just – don’t.”

He presses his forehead to Geralt’s and they breathe in tandem. Maybe he’s still affected by the memory of Geralt as a child, scared and alone, unaware of the hurt he’s about to receive. The trials, growing up away from home, training to become a weapon, the glares people cast at him. Jaskier shudders to think, desperately needing to shield his witcher from the world, but he was powerless in the stable this afternoon. He is not powerless now.

“How about a promise you did hear from me?” he asks.

Geralt frowns in confusion, waiting for him to explain, so Jaskier cups Geralt’s jaw to study him again, his thumb resting exactly where he wiped tears off of the boy hours ago.

“They were brown.”

The confusion in the amber eyes only grows.

“Your eyes, before the trials. They used to be brown.”

Geralt still looks at him incredulously. When it comes out like that, Jaskier probably sounds crazy.

“Your mother left you by the side of the road. She told you to get water, and when you got back she was gone,” he swallows, “You waited, holding a bucket of water. You waited until you went somewhere else. Somewhere cold, there’s a horse and snow and –”

“Oh.”

Realization dawns on Geralt like a lightning strike. He stares at Jaskier in disbelief.

“All these years –” he whispers, “How is it possible? I thought it was a dream. Vesemir told me it was a dream, that I was in so much shock that I conjured it up in my mind. A horse in the snow, chestnut brown, and…”

“And me,” Jaskier almost chokes out, “It wasn’t a dream.”

Geralt looks pained. All this talk about that day must be dredging up terrible memories and Jaskier never wants to hurt him on top of that.

“Do you remember what I said before you went back?”

To which Geralt chuckles tightly.

“That whole day was a bit hazy in my memory, Jask. Vesemir was right in that I was in shock. And I’ve tried so hard to forget about that day, to bury it so I don’t have to think about it.” he holds on to Jaskier, studying him in a new light. “I just remember that you made me feel so warm, Jask. You were the only good thing on the worst day of my life.”

The ache in Jaskier’s chest lessens somehow at those words. For whatever reason destiny decided to weave their fates together, he’s grateful for it just for that moment’s solace alone.

“You knew you were leaving.”

“I did. Now that I know, it was the first time I ever got pulled through time. To you.”

“I did promise we would see each other again.” Jaskier smiles.

Geralt pauses for a moment. Gradually, the golden yellow lights up like the most beautiful constellation in the night sky.

“You promised to never leave me.”

This time when their lips come together, it’s quiet and natural, like a piece of puzzle falling into place. Jaskier backs Geralt towards the bed, and they almost fall over onto the mattress, breaking the contact.

Geralt chases him with heated fervor, to which Jaskier gladly returns with a soft moan. He’s missed his witcher after all. Any space separating them at this moment needs to be closed like it personally offends him.

Tomorrow morning, Jaskier will wake Geralt with fingers through his hair and lips pressed to his forehead. Tomorrow Jaskier will tell him how much he loves him, over and over again. It won’t be the first time Jaskier has uttered the words, but it will be the first affirmation Geralt receives. Tomorrow Geralt will crinkle his eyes and return the words sleepily while dragging Jaskier back under the covers.

Tomorrow they’ll start a new chapter, together.

For now, they fall into each other under the night sky of the Blue Mountains, in a small room with a roaring fire burning in the hearth, tucked away from war and heartbreak.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #time travel #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geralt apologizes

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minmotl · 4 years ago

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Chapter 66: Tang Fan Realizes He Cannot Lose Sui Zhou

Context: Sui Zhou, Tang Fan and their men head into one of the tombs together after finding remnants of the missing villagers right outside the entrance of a tomb. One of the men’s lower body has already been eaten up, and they are sure that there is a sort of creature and monster in the tomb, and hence decide to visit and clear this case once and for all.

They are accompanied by the old village chief’s oldest son, and once they are there and get into trouble, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou finally find out who this son actually is - Li Man, Tang Fan’s previous landlord before he moved in with Sui Zhou, the man who plotted to kill his own wife and then let his son go to prison in his stead, and let him die there before fleeing with his new pregnant mistress. Turns out that Li Man is actually affiliated to the White Lotus Sect.

After his identity is exposed as they are all trapped in the tomb, Li Man takes Tang Fan hostage, but Sui Zhou to the rescue! As they try to get out alive while battling the creature physically, and also dealing with scheming mastermind Li Man and less-than-cooperative subordinates, Tang Fan and Sui Zhou really have their work cut out for them.

*Do read the previous highlight Ch. 60-61 to find out who the village chief and Tang Fan’s uncooperative mofo of a subordinate Yin Yuan Hua are, and also a refresh on the case XD Qian San Er is a young boy, thief-turned-ally that follows Tang Fan from this case onwards and later works for him

*No major Fanzhou ROMANTIC moments in this chapter, but they’re trying to save each other and trying to outwit the bad guy, and also the creature is this huge-ass crocodile that eats people lmao, and they’re trapped in the tomb ;-;

Sort of MAJOR FANZHOU MOMENT AT THE END of this chapter!!!

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Li Man is just realising how extremely useful a hostage is, and before he gets a chance to put his hand on Tang Fan’s neck, a sharp pain comes from his exposed back. He cannot help but cry out in pain, and then the person he caught to play his human shield earlier is gone. The side of his arm has taken a heavy hit, and the pain he feels has him loosening the hold on his blade uncontrollably.

It is but a short moment, but the situation has already changed significantly.

Li Man is originally a businessman and his skills are nowhere better than Tang Fan’s. Otherwise, he would not have been unsure about how much force to use when he took up an axe earlier to slash at others. His two henchmen, however, are clearly more skilled than he is, as faced with the closing in of the Embroidered Uniform Guards, they managed to struggle a little before being forced to surrender.

“What are you guys doing here!” Li Man glares at the person before him in disbelief after his arms are restrained ruthlessly behind his back.

Fate is playing tricks on him. All that he put Tang Fan through earlier is now being applied on himself.

An Embroidered Uniform Guard walks over and then pushes the stone door open slowly. Under Li Man and his henchmen’s glares, Pang Qi walks in with a large gait from the outside, bringing with him Qian San Er and others. The stone door then closes shut heavily again.

The threat they felt from the approaching tomb beast earlier seems like just an illusion.

Sui Zhou personally unties Tang Fan, and asks, concerned, “You’re alright?”

“I’m good,” Tang Fan shakes his head, and then looks around his surroundings.

From the decor, the huge hall they are at is actually at the core of Marquis Gong’s tomb. the coffin in the center is where Marquis Gong’s corpse is located, and the floral patterns on top of the coffin confirm Tang Fan’s earlier guess, that this is indeed the tomb of a former Marquis of the Qin empire.

However, because this central hall’s space is larger, on the left and right there are accompanying side halls that emulate the place the tomb owner was staying in when he was alive. Li Man and the rest of them only lit up a single light. As a result, aside from this small circular area near the light, other parts of this hall are shrouded in darkness.

Stuck in such an environment, it is natural to look towards the light and avoid the darkness, so people consciously turn their eyes towards where there is light, and when these eyes look towards other places, they will be temporarily blinded.

Sui Zhou and his men made use of this to first hide within the accompanying side halls, holding their breaths so they could strike accurately when Li Man’s defences are down.

Although Li Man also realises this, he is still in disbelief, as he always seems to lose to his own plans and fall into Tang Fan’s hands repeatedly.

“This is impossible, my people definitely lured you away, how did you run here from that side?”

Sui Zhou does not pay him any mind, and looks first to Tang Fan instead.

Tang Fan jokes, “Because Sui-zhenfushi is both smart and legendary in combat, and common people are unable to see through him!”

Sui Zhou’s eyes reveal a tinge of mirth, but when he turns towards Li Man again, his expression has returned to its cold and firm state, “The set up laid in this tomb, we already knew most of it before we came down here…”

Before he can finish, Li Man shouts, “Impossible!”

There is naturally a reason behind him saying that. When royals are buried, to prevent tomb robbers, not only must there not be any details left behind for transfer, sometimes even the architects behind the tomb construction have to be killed as well. Or even like how Cao Cao did it, setting up 72 decoy tombs - this was all to confuse the people left and absolutely prevent robberies.

Although doing this may not be entirely effective, everyone has always done it this way in history, so being a little more careful and meticulous will not go wrong.

This tomb is located under the Yong Hou Tomb, and there aren’t many people who know this, not to mention anyone knowing how it’s been set up.

Facing Li Man’s ‘I am cultured so you better stop lying to me’ expression, Tang Fan patiently explains, “Before I became an official, I once wandered the world and came across the region of Shan Xi. There are plenty of tombs there, and it is said that the Zhou royal family’s tomb has long been emptied by local raiders, but the burial mounds and archaeological site are still intact. Under my observations, I realised that the structure of these sites are more similar than different.”

“Yong Hou Tomb only has two levels in the underground palace, this is clearly written by those who have come here before. Ancestor Song Ying was buried in a hurry, and so any secret passages were unable to be built. Although you are not the real Liu Da Niu, but to lure us down here, you put in quite a bit of effort.”

“Not everything you said is fake, at least half of it is real, and Qian San Er did not lie, so combining what the both of you said, then it is not difficult to conclude that when you said there was a third level in this tomb, this means that there has to be another royal member’s tomb.”

“So I took note of this, and looking through local records, I realised that this used to be the land of the Gong Empire, belonging to the Zhou emperor Wang Ji. The Zhou empire practiced gifting their land to accomplished officials, and a small empire like this, all infrastructure must have imitated that of the Zhou royal family’s, including their tombs.”

Li Man continues, “So you applied the set up you saw in the Zhou dynasty’s tombs in Shan Xi over here.”

Tang Fan nods in agreement, “Exactly, but this is equivalent only to trying to draw a tiger by looking at a cat - it is not possible for every tomb to look exactly the same, and even if we know the gist of the set up, there will definitely be differences in between. For example, the traps in this tomb, we couldn’t have known this first. But it is precisely at this moment that you did us a huge favour.”

Li Man’s voice is hoarse, “What favour?”

Tang Fan says, “After we came down, there were plenty of scattered treasures, but there were no bodies. If the creature swallowed the meat and bones together, this I can understand, but from what Qian San Er described, we know that when Li Kui and the rest came down here and fought with the creature, this was surely a nasty, tough fight. So the places that we passed by, it is impossible for them to be so clean. No matter how aggressive and fierce this creature is, one or two limbs or body parts would surely have been left behind. Since this is unnatural, something must be amiss. Someone must have deliberately cleaned this place up in hopes of luring us down here.”

“Very logical,” Li Man says, “And?”

“Since you deliberately lured us here, then you must first ensure your own safety. You couldn’t possibly have allowed yourself to fall prey to the traps, so Sui Zhou and I felt at ease, enough to bring the men down here.”

“I remember that when I was about to kill you, the creature shrieked,” Li Man says, his eyebrows furrowed.

Tang Fan makes a noise of assent, “Qian San Er.”

Hearing his name being called, Qian San Er walks out from the dark calmly, and then shoots Tang Fan a grin, deliberately sucking up to Tang Fan. Then, he brings his hand to the side of his mouth.

A chilling sound echoes, and this is exactly the sound of a ghost crying that they heard earlier!

Li Man and his two henchmen’s eyes go wide.

Qian San Er straightens, his chest protruding outwards and traces of smug delight on his face, “I don’t only know how to steal!”

One must know that his ventriloquism skills are top notch in the Huang He Gang, otherwise he wouldn’t have been brought over here by his shifu to keep watch. Although he was not of much help, but at critical moments, it’s not that he cannot be assigned tasks, and case in point, Li man and the rest were deceived.

The plan was actually very simple. Li Man planned to lure Sui Zhou and his men away and was prepared to first kill Tang Fan and Yin Huan Hua. Who knew that Sui Zhou and the rest of them were already prepared and tackled his scheme with one of their own? Through the White Lotus Sect disciple who wanted to lure them away, they instead managed to figure out all the traps here.

Plus the preparation that Tang Fan made prior to this, having understood the environment and infrastructure before coming down here, as long as they walked about, they would no longer be confused by the misleading traps.

At this point, Sui Zhou and the rest realised that the Tang Fan and Yin Yuan Hua (who were trailing) behind them have vanished. And as Tang Fan knows Sui Zhou, Sui Zhou knows Tang Fan equally well. He knew that Tang Fan would surely think of ways stall for time and await their rescue. The only problem was how they were actually going to meet - And so Sui Zhou asked Qian San Er to mimic the cries of the creatures, all to drive Li Man into the main hall.

And that’s how they have come to the situation before them.

***

Suddenly, Yin Yuan Hua picks up his foot and kicks at Li Man viciously. He demands, “What about the treasures? Where did you hide them all?”

Both of Li Man’s hands are tied up, but he does not get angry at being abruptly kicked to the ground. He only pants, his breaths harsh, “If I tell you, will you guys let me live?”

Yin Huan Hua is still holding a grudge against them for having tied him up earlier and laughs coldly, “All of you tried to rebel and create chaos in the world. It’s already the best case scenario to not have your whole family die to pay for your sins, but you still want to live? if you don’t come clean, just wait to die here!”

As if he heard the biggest joke in history, Li Man suddenly descends into a bout of laughter, and the intensifying pain warps his smile even more.

“What are you laughing at!” Yin Yuan Hua grows cold at his laugh, and almost kicks at him again, but Sui Zhou stops him.

Li Man is laughing uncontrollably, so much so that tears have emerged. He then turns a creepy smile onto Yin Yuan Hua, “I’m laughing at your stupidity! I said so much only to stall for time, so that I may live longer, and then your death sentences will arrive!”

As if in response to Li Man, the moment he finishes speaking, from outside the stone door, an eerie wail resounds from the distance.

Everyone’s expressions change slightly.

Li Man laughs, “I said before that the tomb beasts move when they smell blood and are exceptionally sensitive when it comes to the stench of blood. My blood is bringing them close, and so what if you know all of this? At the end, you still have to die here!”

Heavy thuds echo from outside the stone door, as if an external force is striking against it. In the beginning, the force used was to test the door, but as the door is firm, (the creature) increases its strength. The stone door and the whole hall along with it is struck with so much force that they are shaking slightly, scattering plenty of dust to the floor.

Li Man is still laughing, “This secret will forever be buried here, you will never make it out!”

The back of his head is hit heavily by Pang Qi, “You will also have to die here, what rubbish are you saying, think of something!”

Li Man sneers, “I am indebted to the almighty Sect, without it, there would be no wealthy and successful Li Man. My time to repay my debt has come, and to be able to drag all of you to die with me, I will not die in vain!”

While he is speaking, the stone door is again struck heavily (from the outside)! Originally, this door can only be opened with some clever handling, and for humans this is not a difficult thing, but for a ferocious beast, the stone door before its eyes is an obstacle. However, the tomb guarding beast outside clearly is intelligent, and after repeated strikes proved futile, it gradually stops its attacks and instead shifts to other various methods to try.

The people inside the stone room originally thought that even though they are temporarily unable to leave, the beast cannot enter either. As long as they patiently waited for time to pass, after it lost its patience it would leave naturally, but when they see the stone door being pushed open slowly from outside, they cannot help but be terrified.

A black claw that is as sharp as that of a bird’s, but is a few times larger than a normal bird’s, presses in from the gap made by the door. With the force the beast exhibited outside (earlier), if the claw caught onto one of them, it’s likely their heads would split on the spot.

Once they get to this thought, everyone shudders.

Sui Zhou yells, “Hurry go and hold the door!”

Even without him saying this, many people have already rushed forward and are using their bodies to completely jam the door.

However, the external force is too great, and even though everyone is expelling a majority, if not all of their strength, they only manage to push the door back by just a bit. Before any of them can heave a sigh of relief, the stone door is slammed against hard once again!

A lot of them were still stuck to the door, and are shocked immediately, their four limbs going numb and their strength leaving them.

Another strike from outside!

Once more!

And one more time!

Sui Zhou says grimly, “Prepare the hand cannons!”

With this reminder, a lot of them then remember that they did bring their hand cannons with them. Embroidered Uniform Guards with the hand cannons frantically stuff gunpowder inside, and nervously point the barrels towards the stone door area, waiting for this door to collapse…

And yet, whatever negative thoughts they have are realized, and before they are fully prepared, the door is already unable to withstand this huge force. It splits into two pieces and collapse towards the back. Some of them did not evade this in time and are trapped right there and then.

Along with the stone door being destroyed entirely, the heavy stench of blood blows inwards, and everyone almost throws up.

The only candle flame in the hall is extinguished.

***

Yin Yuan Hua leans against the wall as he shakes, and is exposed and unguarded as the creature’s claws sweep over. His face is flushed white, his eyes staring ahead, forgetting to even react to this.

At this time, it is Tang Fan who is right next to him, who reaches out with a hand and tugs him over. Yin Yuan Hua stumbles and barely dodges the claws, and the sharp tips of those claws swipe over the wall, leaving behind three deep claw marks.

If he was still standing there, then right this moment, there would be another corpse with a cut open belly.

Yin Yuan Hua shakily pants as he depends on the wall for support, not quite believing that he managed to escape from death’s clutches then.

“Go to the side halls!” Tang Fan shouts, totally different from his usual gentle, polite self.

He expended a lot of energy earlier to tug Yin Yuan Hua (out of harm’s way), and at this point, his pallor is not any better than the other man’s.

But the next moment, danger descends once again.

The beast seems to have realised that there are two more easy targets here, and it turns its head, its mouth opening wide and sharp white teeth close in.

From Tang Fan saving Yin Yuan Hua to the creature turning its head over, all these happened in merely a blink of an eye!

The beast is unable to bite at two people at the same time, so its very first target is Yin Yuan Hua. His face remains pale, but this time his reaction seems to be faster than the previous time.

There is no time to flee - the creature’s body is much larger than theirs, and so it has already blocked off all their paths for escape.

This time, Yin Yuan Hua finally reacts.

He chooses to tug Tang Fan over on one hand and hide behind him on the other, prepared to use Tang Fan as a human shield to slow down the beast’s progress. After that he will plan his retreat.

He did this in a flash, and no one would have expected him to do this!

Tang Fan is no longer able to hide or dodge in time! Seeing that his shoulder is about to be bitten off like what happened to an Embroidered Uniform Guard earlier, something flashes in Tang Fan’s eyes, and then the creature’s teeth bites onto a xiuchun blade instead!

It’s Sui Zhou!

At the last moment against all odds, Sui Zhou rushed over and with just the force of a single arm, he blocked the beast’s attack with the blade in his hand!

The edge of the blade causes the beast’s soft mouth to bleed, and it bites on the blade in a rage, then throws ruthlessly, sending Sui Zhou flying to the wall right that moment.

Sui Zhou falls heavily, and spits out a mouthful of blood.

“Guang Chuan!” Tang Fan rushes over to pick him up, his eyes going so wide in fury that they are about to split.

Sui Zhou’s face is as white as joss paper, his eyes shut tight. He is likely to have injured his internal organs, and doesn’t even have the strength to talk at that moment.

The warm body in his arms is pressed so close to him, but in that moment, Tang Fan has this sudden fear and uneasiness at the thought of losing him.

The earlier half of Tang Fan’s life - his parents died earlier and his older sister married out of the city. He thought he was alone, that he had no ties or worries, living freely without restrictions. He also thought that even if he was unable to continue being an official, at most he would just put up his hat and leave.

In this lifetime, he thought that perhaps there was nothing he could not let go.

But right this moment, Tang Fan then realises just how much Sui Zhou means to him in his heart.

So much that he cannot bear the reality of losing the other.

#tsomd #cheng hua's fourteenth year #成化十四年 #suitang #fanzhou #fanzhou highlights #as always i'm sorry it takes me forever!!!#to update hahah #cheng hua shi si nian

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knox-knocks · 4 years ago

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a hunger inside

an among us au >:) tw: death and violence (no foxes die, only ocs)

read it on ao3

Andrew finds him in the hallway, attempting an escape through the vent in the floor. Andrew’s eyes flick to the corner of the room where the camera is, but it is dark and lifeless, no blinking red light to indicate that someone is watching. Of course, that is why Andrew chose to linger in this part of the ship, after all. No one is ever watching these cameras, so he is free to smoke his cigarettes in peace.

“The vents, huh?” he says and leans against the cool metal wall of the ship and lights the cigarette. He’s almost out. As soon as his job here is done, he’ll have to stop by the closest pit stop for another pack.

Orange jumps at the sound of Andrew’s voice, twisting around in the tiny space the vents allow. It’s not much bigger than him, and he has to wiggle through in order to get out. Andrew watches him, cigarette forgotten between his fingertips, and takes note of the dark red staining his orange space suit, seeping into the fabric.

Andrew tips his head and behind Orange he can see two feet sticking out from the darkness, dripping the same red liquid that’s currently splashed all over him. Andrew is no idiot, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that the liquid is blood and the legs belong to a dead man.

“Faster way to get around,” Orange – Josten, he remembers – says after a tense pause. Andrew can’t see his expression past the dark screen of his visor, instead his own unimpressed face is reflected back at him, distorted in the curve of the helmet.

Andrew has never seen the man underneath the orange suit. He’s been aboard the Space Enterprise for a couple months now and hasn’t so much as taken off his helmet. Which wasn’t a cause for alarm – not at first – because technically it was a rule that you had to be wearing your space suit at all times in case of emergencies, though no one actually did. Except for Josten.

What struck Andrew as strange was that Josten didn’t take it off even to eat. In fact, Andrew has never seen him eat with the others in the cafeteria, not once, in the months since he’s joined the crew.

“I suppose you’re the one the others are worrying about, then,” Andrew says and takes a drag off his cig before it dies. “The imposter.”

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Josten says, neatly dodging the question. His voice is staticky over the mic, more artificial than human.

Andrew looks past at the victim half-eaten by the darkness. Josten subtly shifts his weight, an unsubtle attempt to hide the body, but the damage is done and Andrew has already seen it.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Andrew says. He stares at where he thinks Josten’s eyes should be, and meets his own even expression instead.

Josten doesn’t move so Andrew sighs and pushes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. Josten’s back straightens, and he makes an abortive move, as if reaching for a weapon. Said weapon must still be stuck in whatever poor sap whose blood saturated the floor, because Josten’s hands remain empty, and Andrew unstabbed.

“Go get cleaned up,” Andrew says and stubs out his cigarette against his fatigues. The ashes smear against the black fabric, near invisible. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Why?” Josten says in that robotic voice of his.

“Because now you owe me one,” says Andrew.

“I thought we were even.” Josten mimes a movement reminiscent of raising a cigarette to his mouth, a clumsy mimicry in his bulky suit. “‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’”

“Yes,” Andrew says. “But now I’m covering for you as well. So you owe me.”

It is eerie, the way Andrew can’t see his face to read his reactions, and wonders if this is how his crewmates feel about him. Andrew, always so tightlipped and apathetic, even when the crew started getting picked off one by one. He didn’t join up too much longer after the others, but he’d picked up on their unease almost immediately. Andrew doesn’t care though; he isn’t here to make friends. He is here to do his job.

Josten is the first to break. He turns, stiff, and walks down the hall to the sleeping chambers. Andrew watches him go and waits a few more minutes to give him a bit more time. He’s not really sure why. He could have left when he saw Josten climbing into the vent and pretend he never saw the body, or he could have simply reported exactly what he witnessed.

But it often gets boring on the Enterprise, and perhaps Andrew is intrigued, maybe he wants to see where this goes. Plus, it might come in handy to have the resident murderer indebted to him.

Andrew reports the body over the comm link and makes his way to the cafeteria.

_ _

It was Green who was killed, though Andrew never bothered to learn the man’s real name. The remaining crewmates are dragged from their tasks to deliberate over the murder, while Andrew watches over the chaos and waits for Josten to join them. In the end he points his finger at Red, who has no alibi except for her claim to be down in Navigation at the time of the murder. But the others do not listen and in their panic, they are quick to vote her out.

Her screams of terror and pleading are cut short by the hiss of the chamber door sealing shut. It is Yellow who slams the ejection button, and Andrew watches as Red is spat into the black vacuum of space. Yellow flinches when the air is forced out of her lungs and her blood boils in her veins, but Andrew does not.

Ten crewmates turn to eight in a day, and the others are soothed enough to go back to their assignments. At least until Andrew finds Josten stuffing Yellow’s crumpled form into one of the cupboards in Storage a few days later.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Andrew says smoothly, and Josten flips around, quite literally caught in the act. He’s still holding the knife, but he lowers it when he sees Andrew.

“I owe you two?” he says.

“One,” Andrew replies. Josten tips his head, a strangely animal action with the giant space helmet on. “I want your name.”

Josten hesitates.

“Your full name.”

“Neil,” he says slowly, as if trying it out. “Neil Josten.”

“Neil,” Andrew repeats, and he quite likes the taste of it on his tongue. It tastes a little of danger, like the iron-tang of blood. “Now show me your face, and we will be even.”

Neil is slow in taking off his helmet, and Andrew watches in rapt attention as the vents blow out a stream of oxygen and steam as the seals release and Neil twists the helmet off.

Andrew wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Neil looks normal. At least, he has a nose and a mouth, and reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes. It’s as his gaze is tracking the movement of his auburn curls that Andrew spots the reason Neil was so hesitant to take off his helmet.

His eyes are a bright, crimson red, glittering and dark under the fringe of his hair. Undeniably alien.

Andrew takes a step forward and grabs Neil by the chin. He brings his face down closer to his own and moves it side to side, studying him. Aside from the eyes, his face is also marked by deep gouges and circular scars on either side of his face. He is very attractive, and Andrew feels a slow, tight pull in his navel. He would quite like to take this man apart, bit by bit. Neil is silent as he lets Andrew look his fill.

“There’s a vent in the corner of the room, to the left,” Andrew says, releasing Neil’s face. “I’d be quick if I were you.”

Neil narrows those red eyes of his before reattaching his helmet and following Andrew’s directions. He has the vent open and one leg in when he turns back and says, “Why do you never talk to any of the others?”

Andrew gives him a thin, close-mouthed smile and says nothing.

He doesn’t report the body. He lets Purple find it, and he and Neil meet the others in the cafeteria together. His suit his clean, no traces of the blood that had been previously splattered down his front. His helmet is on, but he’s not the only one hiding their face so no one mentions it.

“Minyard,” the man in the white suit says. Andrew is pretty sure his name is Folkson or Falkner or something. His face his pale, eyes stretched wide, and his lips tremble as he talks. He’s the oldest out of all of them, and has taken the helm. “Where were you?”

“With Josten,” Andrew says. “We were clearing out the oxygen tanks in O2.”

“That’s not usually a two-person job,” Lime says suspiciously.

Andrew levels a look at her. “It is if you do it properly.”

“We need to figure this out,” Cyan snaps, and Andrew wracks his brain for their name. He comes up blank. “We’ve been getting picked off for weeks and we still have no fucking clue as to why.”

“They might not be human,” Pink says in his quiet voice, thin as a thread. He clutches his gloves in his hands, turning them over and over. “What if this is a game to them?”

Andrew hedges a look toward Neil but he is still, silent.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyan says, and rolls their eyes. “We need to stay focused before we lose the mission.”

“You give a lot of orders and not a lot of answers,” Folkson or Falkner gripes.

“I could say the same for you,” Cyan replies coolly.

Andrew lets them bicker. He said his piece, and both he and Neil are cleared. After all, Pink saw them on the cameras, and they were no one near the body when Purple found it. In fact, no one was around, and soon the suspicion turns to Purple. Their pleas fall on deaf ears as they are locked in the ejection chamber and Cyan presses the button.

The others whisper around them, desperate prayers to a God that has no place in the depths of space. Let us be right, they murmur. Please, this time, let us be right.

_ _

The first time Andrew kisses Neil, they are in the showers and he has just scrubbed the last of Falkner’s blood off of him. Red turns to pink as it runs off of him, over the white tiles, and down the drain. Andrew knows someone will stumble across the body and report it soon, but he doesn’t care.

Neil’s voice is different when he’s not wearing the helmet, and so is his gasp when Andrew pushes him against the still-dripping wall and presses their mouths together in a bruising kiss. He has a grip on his t-shirt, one in his hair, and he angles their mouths together in a way that has Neil scrabbling against the wall for support.

“Andrew,” he says, and the sound is long, drawn out. Neil tips his head back against the wall and Andrew mouths at his neck, his skin warm from the blood pumping life through his body.

Neil is a killer, the imposter among them, but his skin still bruises and his body still reacts to Andrew’s touch. He kisses him, again and again and again, each one harsher than the last.

Andrew only pulls away when Neil’s tongue darts out to touch his bottom lip. He takes a step back. He needs to be more careful. He shouldn’t be letting Neil get close like this, it’s too dangerous. Too easy to slip up.

Neil’s eyes are blown, his cheeks flushed. “I think we should blame Lime,” he says, breathless.

Andrew presses another kiss to his mouth and resists the urge to sink his teeth into Neil’s lip. Dangerous.

Once under control, Andrew says, “There will be four of us left, after this.”

Neil nods, suddenly solemn. He almost looks regretful. He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Let’s go,” he says without meeting Andrew’s eyes, and Andrew has the feeling that he was going to say something else. Before he can ask, though, Neil is already pulling on his gear.

In the end, they can’t decide who to eject, and Lime is safe. For now.

_ _

“I didn’t do that one,” Neil says quietly, peering down at Lime’s twisted body at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck is broken, blonde hair falling over a face slackened by death, though still etched with fear. Andrew imagines her eyes widening, mouth opening in a scream as hands wrap around her throat, shoving her down the stairs. The image is not difficult to conjure.

“Must have tripped,” Andrew replies. He looks at Neil in the corner of his eyes, and a thrill goes through him when he sees the now-familiar bloodred of his gaze.

“I suppose we report this to the others,” Neil says the same moment Cyan enters the room with Pink in tow.

“Get away from him,” Cyan snarls, and it takes a moment for Andrew to realize that they’re talking to him. “He is the imposter. You – Orange.”

Desperation makes people clumsy, sloppy, and Andrew sees that they are very afraid. Neil looks alarmed – and extremely guilty standing over the body. Never mind Andrew was also caught red-handed, Cyan and Pink surround Neil and Neil only.

So they don’t suspect Andrew at all.

“You killed Gen,” Cyan says, voice shrill. They leap at Neil, and with Pink’s help they corner him against the wall as Andrew watches on. “And I’m willing to bet you were plotting to kill Black too. Lure him down and execute him here.”

“What of it?” Neil says through clenched teeth. Cyan has his arms pinned to his sides, and there is nowhere for him to go. They force him back, crowding him into the ejection chamber. Neil jerks in their grip, but Cyan holds tight. Pink grapples with the panel on the wall to open the door, but his shaking hands slide helplessly over the smooth panel. He finally finds a grip and gets the door open.

“Look at his eyes,” Pink cries. “I told you. I told you he wasn’t human.”

“Shut up,” Cyan grits and shoves Neil into the chamber. Neil struggles, bucking in a last-ditch effort to get out of Cyan’s grip, but it’s useless. They found their imposter, and now they’re going to kill him. His wide red eyes meet Andrew’s calm ones, and he rams his body into Cyan’s, desperate.

Cyan grunts at the impact and looks over their shoulder at Andrew. “Black,” They hiss. “Minyard, help – ”

Andrew smiles, revealing the rows of razor-sharp teeth he has so carefully hid from everyone until now. Pink sees it first and screams, but it’s cut off when Andrew lunges and sinks his fangs in his slender neck. Blood gushes into his mouth, and it tastes so sweet. Pinks chokes, hands fluttering ineffectually at his sides as Andrew tears out his throat.

Cyan watches with horror, but before they can do anything, Neil is already there, his arms wrapped around their neck. He forces their head back at such a steep angle that Cyan cries out in pain, and shakes them like a ragdoll. It is easy now that they have the element of surprise, and Neil snaps Cyan’s neck with ease. They slump to the ground and Neil stares at their body, chest heaving from the fight.

“You,” he says, still out of breath, eyes traveling up to Andrew’s. “You’re the other one.”

Andrew licks his lips, blood dripping from his face, his sharpened teeth, and Neil tracks the movement. “Yes,” he says simply.

Neil grins. “Good. I would have hated killing you.”

“You never would have gotten close.” Andrew steps over Pink’s still-twitching body and hooks his fingers in the thick collar of Neil’s space suit. “Yes or no?”

Neil’s eyes are dilated, black enveloping red. “You already know my answer,” he says, voice heavy.

Andrew’s grip on him tightens. “Say it anyway.”

“Yes,” Neil says and Andrew yanks him in for a fierce kiss. Neil makes a sound low in his throat, guttural, and Andrew swallows it. He’s sure he nicks Neil with his teeth now that he’s not so concerned about keeping them hidden, but Neil doesn’t seem to mind. He is happy licking the blood from Andrew’s lips.

Neil’s eyes flash red and Andrew’s teeth bare in a sharp smile. Game over.

#aftg #tfc #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #mine #my writing

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for-dramas-sake · 4 years ago

Text

My Favorite 2020 Dramas plus a few Honorable Mentions

In no particular order...

To Love

It’s not over yet, but already this is one of my favorites of modern Chinese dramas. The writing alone makes the story excellent in that it keeps you on your toes in every episode and keeps you engaged with the characters. Told from the two main leads’ POVs, it is a story of an undercover cop and a café owner who fall in love in the middle of his mission of a drug bust. It is a tale weaved from hard choices, complicated characters, and seemingly real life characters. It’s also a beautiful drama: full of color, excellent cinematography and lovely music.

I highly recommend it for anyone who wants to try out a underrated mature drama. I say mature for content (mainly for violence and drugs) as well for structure. This is NOT a bubbly, good-spirted drama. There is angst, pain, and conflict.

Qing Qing Zi Jin

I’m going to say it and mean it: My favorite drama of the year! I love it and have claimed the main leads to be “my babies” forever! The story is set in the Tang Dynasty of a mountain gang leader who comes to the capitol city to study at school not only to solve the mystery of ten years prior but to gain notoriety and fame. And let’s not forgot the love his life, a super strong (I mean that literally) girl who is a little shy at first, but then gains some backbone to go with those strong arms of hers.

It’s sweet, charming and lovely. And while that might sounds more like the perfect date, it’s not. There is plenty of drama infused: a jealous older sister, a cruel stepmother, a scheming royal, the truth of the FL’s mother, the secret of the ML’s true identity, as well as so much more.

I love every single episode and which it had ten more than its 40 episodes.

You Complete Me

Another modern drama that is so underrated! This is less violent and emotionally complicated as To Love, but it does pack a wallop of feelings. It’s another revenge story (third one in a row, I might have a preference for these kind of dramas). The male lead wants to take down the rich businessman who was the cause of his father’s demise but on the way he falls in love with the man’s daughter.

It’s the most life-like drama so far on this list in that it’s very business-minded. There are quite a few scenes just discussing business tactics, money transactions, and meeting scenarios which all fly over my head. I can see that is a turn off for a lot of people, but believe me that it’s not all numbers and figures! There is a lot of story behind the suits and briefcases. The female lead is my favorite of the year: she’s a total badass who wants to earn her own way and won’t let anyone help or hinder her. She’s fantastic. If anything, watch the show just for her.

Note: I’m a sucker for the trope “I Did _(insert revenge act here)__ But Then I Fell in Love with You”. It’s the whole Good Girl and Bad Guy trope, and I love it so. The ML isn’t 100% bad, per say, but he does not have good intentions towards his enemy.

The Journey Across the Night

Yet another modern drama! This one is full of mystery, intrigue, and darkness (more so than To Love). Unlike the other dramas, this one is not about revenge. But Like QQZJ, The ML is searching for truth as well as going to school. He is studying psychiatry under this creepy professor and hunting for answers. His mother and older brother both were diagnosed with schizophrenia when they turned 24 and he searches to learn how to prevent his own eventual dissent into madness.

This is a psychological, thriller drama but it’s not as scary as you might think. It’s pretty tame as horror dramas can go, but there are several creepy scenes and a few sketchy characters. The ML is a nice guy (do they exist anymore?) who doesn’t believe ghosts, but he manages to get pulled into a new mystery along with his friends a lot. The FL is a bubbly, loud girl who takes an instant liking to the boy. She confesses to him quite a lot over the show and it’s quite cute to see him blush.

This drama does not have a story flow (other than the ML and his quest). It is developed by the several mysteries the ML and his friends solve which is very interesting. Every mystery impacts one of characters differently which gives more insight into them as well their interaction with each other. Friendship is a major theme in this show. It’s thrilling ride with plenty of mystery, but bring your tissues!

Oh! My Sweet Liar!

What an adorable costume drama also set in the Tang Dynasty. This is a family grounded story set around the rich and powerful Li family. The FL is a painter who infiltrates the Li Mansion to paint “the four arhats” for money. She encounters the eldest son who doesn’t trust her from the start. But things take an interesting turn when she suddenly announces that she’s pregnant with his baby!

It’s a comical, fun ride that is lead by a sweet couple as well as the second lead couple who are childish but also adorable. It’s the least dramatic of the dramas listed so far with its ML falling in love rather quickly with the FL and a powerful family that’s not quite as domineering as imagined. But it’s a sweet story.

Need a pick-me-up? I recommend this one.

Under the Power

Crime fighting in the Ming Dynasty! It follows the trope of silly, but headstrong FL and the brooding loner ML. The girl is member of the local constabulary and she wants to fight against all injustice. The boy, a member of a special government enforcement team, endures her until he falls in love with her (wink wink).

The story follows the female constable and the government official teaming up to solve the case of the Disappearing Government Funds (play mysterious music here). They encounter multiple crime cases, battle different evil forces, even dip their toes into almost magical scenarios along the way. And they fall in love, of course.

It has its charm in the main couple’s cat and mouse interactions and slow burn love story. She comes from a poor background and he comes from the a government official lineage. They are night and day, but they click in a delightful way. Plus, there’s a ton of cool fighting scenes and a few likeable side characters too.

Eternal Love of Dream (aka the Pillow Book)

A fantastic follow up to the much-loved Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms with an appropriate story for everyone’s favorite minxy fox and the immortal who came from a rock. I love this story mainly because it gives depth to the shallow as a kiddie pool Feng Jiu from Ten Miles (I’m sorry, but she was not a favorite). She was such a crier that you needed an umbrella for a lot of her scenes. And Dong Hua was there too.

But then you actually see them have character and story and drama and a love story! And the chemistry is *chef’s kiss*. This drama is near perfection for its all mentioned previously except for a few minor things like it drags in some parts, a few side characters are boring (or the actors were switched from Ten Miles so I don’t quite care so much) and then it gets kind confusing in some parts.

Overall, a great fantasy drama with a well deserved ending.

...and now for a few honorable mentions!

Twisted Fate of Love

I’m on episode 11 so far and not quite fallen hard for it yet. I love Feng Xi (the scheming!!!) and all his questionable choices both to get Dong Yue and to get a promotion. But I don’t like Dong Yue much. She’s a weird mix of innocence and fighting spirit that I just don’t buy just yet. I will keep watching for their eventually love story.

The Heiress

The scheming! The secrecy! The playacting! The love story! I like it all, but it’s just not enough to get on my favorites list. I did say previously it as my favorite girl-disguised-as-a-guy drama, but it’s not my FAVORITE drama this year. Still very enjoyable!

General’s Lady

A surprisingly fun drama with a cute couple! I’m about 16 episodes in and would like to finish it one day. I do like how the couple is married very soon and have to work on building their relationship over the courses of the show. It’s refreshing from other shows that have the reverse.

Dating in the Kitchen

Cute, cute drama! I probably would have put this on my favorites list but I haven’t finished it yet (I’m so behind in a lot of dramas). It touches on the older man/ younger woman genre, which is so rare is chinese dramas. And it’s done well. Not cringe-inducing because the two leads have beautiful chemistry. And there’s lots of food.

And that’s my list! I hope this inspires some of you to watch some very good dramas as well as stretch outside your comfort zone. I know I went out of my usual bounds of historical dramas and fell in love with some amazing modern dramas. Here’s hoping 2021 will bring lots of fun dramas for us to discover!

#cdrama #chinese drama #Dating in the Kitchen #under the power #the heiress #oh my sweet liar #to love #qing qing zi jin #general's lady #twisted fate of love #the journey across the night #eternal love of dream #you complete me

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tigerseye46 · 3 years ago

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tell us about ur new oc!

Thanks for giving me an excuse to talk about her! I have a lot.

I’ve actually mentioned her before but before I figured everything out. I rp her in a server with my friends.

Her name is Huáng Xiàróng (煌夏荣 Brilliant Summer Glory)! Her name used to be Yuán but I changed it. I’ve created one design for her, I don’t draw often so it’s not the best but I tried. I’ll post her demon form and picrew of her human form at the end.

Originally she was supposed to be a motherly figure. That… uhh did not exactly go as planned. I kinda made her feral instead- also she used to be a straight up villain.

She’s a rabbit/bunny demon. Specifically a Manchurian hare. She has a mix of black, brown and gray fur with three spots on the side of her face which are replaced by freckles in human form. She has a notch on her ear and some spots there too. She has slight wavy hair with braids in the back.

Her hair is black with green strands, kinda like Mei which was completely unintentional and I only realized that now. Her eyes are green but they change to red when angered and brown when annoyed. She has a frilly dress. She has a tattoo on her back, 戰士 meaning warrior. Her height is 6 feet and 2 inches. She’s around 3000, maybe a bit younger and physically looks 35 - 40.

Small tw here, she has scars from years of fighting.

Abilities:

She can shapeshift to various things including a normal bunny form and a bigger, more terrifying version of herself.

Like most rabbits, she’s extremely fast (super speed).

She has the ability to control and manipulate fire.

She can jump high.

Super strength

And friend suggested the ability to possibly summon and ride a cloud.

Backstory: (I’m just going to copy and paste her backstory that I used for smth)

Xiàróng was born in the Qin Dynasty to two rabbit demons. Her parents were fierce demon lords that loved to mess with humans with their army. Her parents trained her in the hopes that she would follow in their footsteps and she did. She became a fierce warrior with a strong love of fighting and battling.

She led her armies into villages, messing with humans and demanding offerings. She loved the absolute terror that popped up on their faces as her army swept in. She enjoyed the amusement she felt every time they thought they could defeat her along with the absolute adrenaline that came with fighting.

Her parents were extremely proud of her and at times, fought with her but they mostly stayed regulated to their hideout. One day, they passed away in the field of battle, she rose and took their place. Xiàróng became better known as a fierce rabbit demon lord and grew her armies, even allying at points with some other demons.

She became renowned as her parents always hoped she would be. She loved her army and always made sure their efforts were rewarded. She treated them as a second family to her and they shared a deep bond.

One of Xiàróng’s generals told her about a monk journeying west to get scriptures and if she eats him, she can become immortal. While initially excited at this prospect, she declined when she found out that the person guarding him was the Great Sage. She then made sure her army never crossed paths with Sun Wukong and the rest of the pilgrims.

She continued onward and she thought the whole thing could last forever.

But obviously, nothing lasts forever. Humans started advancing and her demon army started falling, either passing away in battle, getting tired of fighting or deciding that they wanted to move on and pass off as humans to live normal lives, sometimes a mixture of the last two.

Xiàróng never stopped fighting and refused to quit until she faced a fierce opponent in battle that caused her spirits to wane. She eventually realized that with humanity’s advancements she longer had the edge that she used to. She decided to sadly give up fighting about 500-1000 years prior to modern day. In her current identity, she works at a boring office job to survive all while longing for the good old days.

The group finds her when they need her to face an opponent she had previously faced, possibly the same one that caused her spirits to wane.

(She also had might or might not have had a kid at one point when she was still a warrior. Mildly debating on the kid thing but I’m probably going with it.)

Likes and Dislikes:

She absolutely loves fighting, she loves the thrill that comes with it. She values hard workers as she had to work hard to get to where is. She loves to reminisce about the good old days when she was feared and respected. She likes the summer season. Her favorite colors are red and green. She likes drinking tea. She adores the outdoors. She likes (also dislikes) being alone. She likes people who value their family. She is a big fan of action movies. She likes exercising. She likes organization and plans. She loves her motorcycle and weapons. She loves being the leader of projects as it gives her a sense of power. She loves fire and is often entranced by it. She likes using her jumping abilities. She likes exploring nature.

She dislikes the modern advancements humans have made as she believes it puts her as a disadvantage and is part of the reason she is no longer feared. She dislikes mundane office work as she believes it to be below her skill level but does it to survive. She dislikes people who desert others as some of her army left because they were tired of fighting and wanted to move on. She hates being called cute. She hates slackers. She hates people who underestimate her. She dislikes interacting unless she has to.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

Strengths:

Xiàróng is extremely proud of her abilities. She is extremely brave and will gladly take action when need be. She is rather confident. She is observant because of her years as a demon lord. She is a strategic individual since she spent so much time with her generals planning out attacks. She is also rather smart from her years of teaching from her parents about different subjects. She will give her honest opinion if someone asks her. She is hard working. She is tidy and always makes sure to keep both her workspace and house clean. She actually has a motherly side to her and is rather gentle when interacting with children and is capable of being gentle when others are having a bad day, although this depends on who they are. She is agile.

Weaknesses:

Her belief in her abilities cause her to have excessive pride in them. Her bravery leads her to take reckless actions. Her longing to reclaim the past and become once again known as a fierce demon blinds her to the possibilities that come with the future. She holds on too much to the past and practically clings to it. She has a short temper and can snap easily. Her honesty leads to bluntness and people not liking her because of her opinion. She can also be rather dishonest sometimes. She acts as if she knows better than others since she’s been alive a long time and has a wide array of knowledge.

General Personality:

Xiàróng is not a sociable person, although she used to be back in the old days when she had her demon army. She can be quite dramatic especially when she’s explaining her past to people. She has a loud personality that appears when she’s explaining her history. This is a subtle and desperate attempt to reclaim what she used to have. Although, other than that, she is rather quiet and prefers not to interact unless absolutely necessary.

She prefers to keep to herself a lot of the time despite rabbits being social creatures. She feels out of place and longs for a world where she can go back to fighting and a time where her army was all together, laughing and smiling. Fighting is all she’s known for the longest time and believes that’s what she’s mostly good at.

Since some of her army has either passed away or left to find better lives, she is not a big fan of letting people close especially in a world of humans since these were people she once used to attack and mess with. She does rarely encounter some of the demons that used to be her army. She’s short tempered and aggressive. She appears cold due to her isolation and circumstances. Under her cold personality, there is a loud, bright and caring personality waiting to get out if she lets someone get close, maybe if she did, she could go back to the way she used to be.

She doesn’t care about the group at first until they keep dragging her along. She is terrified of Sun Wukong because of his reputation and is kinda wary of his successor but helps him out. She purposefully annoys Pigsy and has debates with Tang. Also I kinda ship her with Sandy but we’ll see how that goes-

Trivia:

Talents: Foraging, cooking, singing, Can expertly play pipa (Chinese lute) and piano, gardening, great medical knowledge, wrestling, sword fighting and spear fighting, stealth, hand to hand combat, whittling, excellent leadership skills, making strategies.

She has a motorcycle that she takes good care of.-Romance movies are a guilty pleasure of hers.

She is ambidextrous.

She’s bi.

She has a tattoo with the characters 戰士 meaning warrior on her back.

She has a small house in the woods near a mountain range outside the city.

She was around when the Journey to the West was happening but avoided the pilgrims since she didn’t want to risk angering Sun Wukong if she tried something.

Hobbies: poetry, training with her qiang and jian, exercising, running, singing, gardening, cooking, playing the pipa and piano, foraging, whittling/wood carving, origami, watching television

Her surname Huáng meaning brilliant refers to the family’s cleverness along with wanting to shine. Xià means summer, summer represents something in China such as the direction south, the color red, the sound of laughter, the heart, fire and a creature called the red phoenix. Red, in turn, symbolizes happiness, vitality, good luck, good fortune, energy and passion. Róng meaning glory is because her parents were hoping she’d be renowned by people all over.

Picture:

Link to the picrew I used for human form: https://picrew.me/image_maker/332600

Human form:

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Huáng Xiàróng #monkie kid oc #lego monkie kid oc #my friends will be the first to tell you that I go crazy with ocs-#which is why I have 100+#I’m also going to make more Monkie kid ocs eventually #my oc #I have some stuff written for her #but not a lot

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purplehairedwonder · 4 years ago

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Inside a Broken Dream Chapter 3

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen, briefest hint of Lawlu that you can ignore Words: 3325 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Penguin, Jean Bart, Donquixote Doflamingo, Smoker, Tashigi Note: Story title comes from the Vertical Horizon song “Shackled.” Character and relationship tags reflect the current chapter. Obviously this is canon-divergent ;)

Summary: Two years after Wano, peace on the Grand Line is fragile. Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates are doing their best to help maintain the peace, but the return of a figure from Law’s past might shatter the balance of power entirely.

Previous chapters: 1 | 2

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

“White Chase-ya?”

Smoker’s eyes flicked in Law’s direction, and his lips thinned into a line. “Law.”

Law frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Smoker grimaced and leaned back against the wall of his cell. The Seastone shackles around his wrists clanked with his movements. “Somehow, I keep getting caught up in your shit with Joker.”

Law snorted despite himself. He supposed it was a bit of déjà vu, calling back to being locked up on Punk Hazard. Too bad Law was restrained with actual Seastone this time.

Penguin was looking between Law and Smoker, confused, but he clearly knew he wouldn’t get an explanation so instead asked, “Did Akainu really let Doflamingo out of Impel Down and give him a ship to go after Captain?”

Smoker grunted. “Is that what he said?”

Jean Bart nodded. “He also said he wasn’t interested in running errands for Akainu.”

“That much is true, anyway,” Smoker replied. His tone made it eminently clear that he was unhappy to be having this conversation with three pirates—but he answered anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“Sakazuki did want to go after Law,” he said, nodding in Law’s direction. “And after Dressrosa, he thought he could use Doflamingo to do it.”

Had Law had the energy, he would have straightened at that. As it was, he narrowed his eyes. “What does he know about Dressrosa?”

Law knew Penguin and Jean Bart were watching him—he’d been intentionally vague about what had gone on there and why, though Penguin knew far more than most of the Heart Pirates about Law’s history with the former Warlord, and he’d rarely mentioned it since. At the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The last thing he wanted was his history with Doflamingo to become common knowledge. Sengoku knew because of his connection to Cora-san, but Law got the impression the man was content in his retirement to let things lie in his adopted son’s memory. Akainu, though… The less that son of a bitch knew about Law, the better.

Smoker appraised him from his cell before speaking. “Whatever Fujitora reported, I assume.”

Of course. Though he wouldn’t know the details of the backstory, Fujitora had witnessed enough to know there was a history there—one that was intensely personal on both sides. That could have been enough for Akainu.

Law let out a breath. “Right.”

“Captain?” Penguin asked quietly, but Law shook his head. Penguin frowned but nodded.

“Why the sudden interest in the Captain?” Jean Bart asked. “He’s been an Emperor for two years now.”

Smoker shifted, seemingly looking for a more comfortable position. “It’s not sudden. Sakazuki’s had it in for you since you saved Straw Hat Luffy at Marineford,” he replied, addressing Law directly. “He took that as a personal insult. And then you pulled that stunt to become a Warlord and made an alliance with the rubber idiot before proceeding to completely upend the status quo on the Grand Line.” He raised an eyebrow. “Need I go on?”

“I broke the gears,” Law had said when he’d destroyed the SAD production on Punk Hazard. And the effects had certainly avalanched after that, though Law hadn’t necessarily expected to see it.

“I’m sure he’s thrilled the alliance hasn’t ended either,” Law muttered.

Law had known that he was in this alliance for the long haul the morning after Doflamingo’s fall. Law had been sitting, his body broken and spirit afloat, among the drooping sunflowers as the sun rose over the toy soldier’s cabin. Luffy, who Law thought had been sleeping off his injuries, had sat down next to him with a murmured “Torao” and had gently entwined their fingers. Law had leaned into him in silent response. Thank you. Why am I alive? What do I do now? all running through his mind. Luffy had tightened his grip on Law’s hand, anchoring him.

“He knew targeting you would draw Straw Hat’s attention,” Smoker confirmed. “He was counting on it.”

“Is he trying to start a war?” Penguin demanded, aghast.

“The closer Straw Hat comes to finding Laugh Tale, the more anxious he gets. He’ll take any chance to stop that from happening.” Smoker shrugged. “Though it’s moot now; Doflamingo screwed Sakazuki over.”

“Which brings us back to the Captain’s original question: How do you figure into this, Smoker?” Jean Bart asked, crossing his arms. Law belatedly noticed that Jean Bart had shackles around his wrists as well, though they were of the regular sort since he wasn’t a Fruit user. A quick glance confirmed Penguin did too.

“I was assigned to lead the mission. Doflamingo was chained with so much Seastone I could barely get near him, and he was guarded by multiple soldiers at all times. He was supposed to be an asset, nothing more.”

Law raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “You were coming to take me on, White Chase-ya?” Their last fight hadn’t gone particularly well for Smoker, though he had saved Law’s life by recovering his heart from Vergo. Law would always hate the Marines after what had happened to Flevance, but Smoker was one he grudgingly respected. Still. “Should I be offended that I didn’t even warrant an admiral’s attention?”

Smoker replied with an unimpressed look. “The admirals have been spread thin over the last two years, and you know it.” It was true; since Doflamingo’s fall and the end of his underworld empire, the dissolution of the Warlords, and Kaido’s defeat, the admirals had had their work cut out for them keeping the peace.

“Even so, attacking an Emperor without an admiral—” Jean Bart began.

“And with a former Warlord on board,” Penguin added helpfully.

“—seems like a mission that should be led by an admiral,” Jean Bart finished.

Law found himself wondering if Akainu sent Smoker because he had history with Law… and Straw Hat-ya.

Smoker sighed. “Like I said, its moot now anyway.”

“Because Doflamingo escaped,” Law supplied.

“Once we approached your territory, he was released from the strongest Seastone restraints with the understanding he’d be shot on the spot with a Seastone bullet if he pulled anything.”

Law grimaced. Idiots.

“Oh, so it’s your fault Captain got shot,” Penguin snapped. “Always so competent, you Marines.”

Smoker startled, turning to examine Law. Law gestured weakly at his wound, his shackles clinking. “Seastone bullet lodged in my shoulder.” His lips curled. “Thanks for that.”

“That explains a lot,” Smoker mumbled before raising his voice. “You’re right.” He said it as if it took a great amount of effort to make the concession. It probably did. “He took control of the ship almost immediately. He overwhelmed us, and he forced my men to cuff me, knowing I wouldn’t fight them.” His voice tightened as he spoke, barely containing his fury at the memory.

Something was still bothering Law. “Where’s your number two? The swordswoman.”

Smoker’s expression darkened. “He’s got her on guard duty. She was watching me when he attacked you.”

That explained why Law hadn’t seen either of them earlier; Doflamingo likely hadn’t wanted to risk losing any measure of control of the situation by putting familiar faces in the battle.

“Has Doflamingo said what he wants?” Jean Bart asked after a quiet moment, eyes flicking to Law before returning to Smoker.

Smoker shook his head before landing his stare flatly on Law. “He just called it Family business.”

-----

Law jerked into full consciousness, hissing as his shoulder flared and blinking as the brig door opened and light once more flooded the dim room. After the conversation with Smoker, the four men had fallen into an uncomfortable silence. Law had felt drained—and by more than just the excessive amounts of Seastone he was being exposed to.

At some point, night had fallen—the Heart Pirates’ confrontation with Doflamingo had happened near dusk, and Law had apparently been out for several hours after that—though the darkened brig gave little indication of the time of day. Law had slumped back against the wall in the least painful position he could manage and had drifted in and out of wakefulness, familiar dreams of gunshots, black feathers, blood, and laughter never far from the back of his eyelids.

Two Marines entered the brig and stopped in front of Law’s cell. Law watched as they opened the door and stepped inside toward him. Despite the movements Doflamingo’s strings were forcing them to make, they looked back toward Smoker.

“V-vice Admiral,” the second Marine muttered. “We can’t—”

“I know,” Smoker gritted out. “Don’t blame yourselves. Focus on staying alive now to fight back later.”

“Yessir,” both men agreed before returning their attention to Law.

Law inhaled sharply and his vision spun as the Marines hauled him to his feet.

“Captain!” Penguin called as the Marines pushed Law out of his cell and toward the door. Law didn’t resist; he didn’t have the strength to with the Seastone still in his shoulder. “Where are you taking him?”

They all knew the answer to that question. “Doflamingo wants to see him,” the first Marine said in unneeded confirmation.

“It’s fine, Penguin,” Law said over his shoulder. “He wants me alive.” For how long, Law didn’t know. But he could use this chance to do some reconnaissance—anything was better than just sitting in that cell helplessly.

“But—”

“Penguin.” That was Jean Bart. Law was, not for the first time since Sabaody, thankful for the former captain’s calm and presence of mind; it had made him an instantly popular presence on the Polar Tang, and Law had always taken his counsel, when offered, seriously. “He knows.”

As the brig door swung shut, Law caught a glimpse of Penguin’s worried look and Jean Bart’s level, if somber, stare.

Law was surprised when the Marines steered him up some stairs then into a bathroom. “He told us to tell you to clean yourself up,” the second Marine said, nodding to the small bathroom. The Marines left Law alone in the bathroom, waiting outside.

For a moment, irritation at being underestimated flooded through Law’s veins, but it quickly diminished as he realized there wasn’t much he could do from here—the Seastone was suppressing his powers and draining his strength, and the small window wasn’t big enough for Law to fit through; and even if he could have fit through the window, where would he go? They were on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and Law was an anchor. Not to mention, two of Law’s men were still prisoners in the brig, and he wouldn’t leave without them.

Law took the opportunity to relieve himself then checked his pockets—an awkward task with his restraints. He sighed in relief when he found his surgical kit; the Marines must not have gone through his pockets once he was taken captive—or Doflamingo hadn’t made them do so. His mistake. With this, Law could remove the Seastone bullet from his shoulder and alleviate its worst effects. Or Penguin could. He hoped.

Returning the kit to his pocket, Law turned on the faucet and splashed some water in his face. He dared a glance into the mirror and winced. His features were (unsurprisingly) more drawn than usual, and though his navy shirt was dark enough to disguise much of the blood, there was still an obvious dark stain on the shoulder. He wet one of the towels then gently pulled the cloth of his shirt away from the skin, wincing when the dried blood caused it to stick. Once he’d separated the fabric from his skin, he took the damp towel and gently cleaned off as much of the blood as he could. It was awkward with his restricted wrists, but he managed as best he could. As the blood came away, the purpling of the skin became obvious around the bullet wound. He prodded around the wound with his fingers, grimacing at its tenderness.

There was a knock at the door. “All right, Trafalgar. Let’s go.”

With a weary sigh, Law splashed another handful of water in his face then dried off with a clean towel. He opened the door and allowed the Marines to push him forward down the hall again. He knew when to pick his battles, and this was not one of those times. Law did his best to make a mental map of the ship and number of Marines he saw, though his foggy mind wasn’t making that an easy task.

Eventually, Law was directed onto the ship’s deck. Law squinted at the morning sunlight, which was a stark contrast to the dim brig. He stumbled slightly, and the Marines shoved him forward. Law pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw he was been directed toward a small table with two chairs—one predictably occupied by Doflamingo. He was eating breakfast as Smoker’s number two was forced to stand behind him as a bodyguard. Law could practically feel the anger radiating off her, which he knew Doflamingo was basking in.

As Law approached, Doflamingo looked up and smirked. He gestured toward the empty chair across from him, and, when Law was too slow in taking it, twitched his fingers so Law’s Marine escorts pushed him down by the shoulders. Law ground his teeth against the jolt of fresh pain that radiated down his arm and through his chest but refused to give the other man the satisfaction of making a sound. Doflamingo’s smirk widened anyway. After dismissing the Marines with the wave of a hand, Doflamingo turned his full attention to Law.

“You know Captain Tashigi, don’t you, Law?” he said, nodding to the woman behind him. Her eyes flicked to Law and softened slightly before hardening again.

“We’ve met.”

“Hm. On Punk Hazard, wasn’t it?”

Doflamingo knew full well that was the case, so Law didn’t dignify the question with a response.

“Still delightful company, I see,” Doflamingo said, raising an eyebrow. “Some things never change, eh, Law?”

“My apologies,” Law drawled. “The Seastone bullet in my shoulder seems to be suppressing my manners as well as my Fruit.”

Doflamingo’s lips turned upward, apparently pleased at the response. “Fufufu. You must be hungry. Eat,” he directed, nodding toward the food on the table. No bread, Law noted idly.

Law didn’t move. Doflamingo sighed dramatically. “If I were going to kill you, Law, I wouldn’t have only shot you in the shoulder yesterday.” A twitch of the lips. “Besides, is poison really my style?”

Fine.

Still, Law raised his shackled wrists wordlessly, indicating how awkward it would be to eat with the restraints on.

Amused, Doflamingo twitched his fingers, and one of the Marine guards from earlier came forward. He brandished a key and unlocked the shackle on Law’s right wrist. Law let out a relieved breath before he could stop himself, but the relief was short-lived as he realized the Marine was locking the free shackle to the chair; Law’s left arm—the unwounded one—was essentially useless. If he was going to eat, he’d have to use his wounded arm.

Law clenched his jaw, biting down on the words he’d like to spit at the other man, as Doflamingo chuckled. “Fufufu. You knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, Law. Now eat.”

Doing his best to ignore the intent gaze of the other man, Law resorted to serving himself from the dishes closest to him so he wouldn’t need to move his arm too much. He ended up with some eggs and fruit. He blinked in surprise when another Marine poured coffee into the mug in front of him. Doing his best to control the trembling in his arm, he gripped the mug and took a tentative sip to test the heat of the drink. It was tolerable, so he took a larger sip. Blessed caffeine. It helped clear the fog in his mind the tiniest bit.

Law picked, one-handed, at the food on his plate and took sips of coffee as he waited for Doflamingo to get to whatever it was that he wanted. He’d just popped a strawberry in his mouth when the other man finally spoke.

“I told you once that I would have been happy to settle things between us over drinks,” Doflamingo said. “Do you remember?”

Law paused, then swallowed the food. He looked up at Doflamingo, who had steepled his fingers and was staring at Law over them. Despite everything that had happened—despite how much stronger Law was now—that gaze still made Law feel ten years old.

“As I recall,” Law replied coolly, “Fujitora was holding me down with his gravity force after you’d shot me with your bullet strings.” He inclined his head. “But yes, I do remember.”

“I meant it, you know. You’re Family. We all were waiting for you to return to your rightful place.”

Law snorted derisively, memories of waking up chained to the Heart Throne after being shot with lead bullets bouncing around the back of his mind. “Is that what we’re doing here? Making up for lost time?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s hard to take you seriously when—” Law found himself suddenly without words as he thought about the previous day—about finding the smoldering wreck of Shachi’s ship and fighting to stop Shachi’s internal bleeding as he operated on his friend, about that damn gun—so just gestured at his shoulder with his free hand. He could feel sharp, fiery anger coursing under his skin, but the numbing effect of the Seastone doused it almost as quickly as it came on, leaving Law feeling cold and hollow.

“You know what kind of Family we are.”

Law distantly noted the use of the present tense but didn’t dwell on it. “And that’s why I never came back.”

Doflamingo was uncharacteristically silent for several moments before he finally spoke. “There’s been something I’ve been wondering since you came to Dressrosa, Law.”

Law inclined his head, waited.

“Where were you that night? Coraz- Rosinante said you were out of the Birdcage. But you weren’t, were you?”

Law blinked, startled by the question—and by Doflamingo’s use of his brother’s name. Whatever he’d been expecting the other man to say, that wasn’t it. He couldn’t read the look on Doflamingo’s face either. Law took a breath, collecting himself—what did it matter if he told him now?

“No, I wasn’t.” He could still feel snowflakes on his eyelashes and the walls of the treasure chest pressing in on him… “Cora-san put me in one of the treasure chests.” His lips twisted into an expression he knew was ugly. “I heard everything.”

Including Doflamingo declaring Law would be taught to die for him. It had haunted Law for years that, had he not heard those words and had the Family recovered him, he probably would have died for Doflamingo. Happily. For all the hatred Law carried for the man in front of him, he’d loved him once, too. The Family had called him a traitor when he put his vengeance plan into motion, but Law had been the one betrayed on Minion Island. He still woke up shaking and nauseated from nightmares in which he performed the Eternal Youth Operation, dying with a smile on his face for the man who’d murdered his savior.

Doflamingo stared at him for a long, tense moment as though placing Law into his memories of that night. It was… disconcerting. Then he nodded. “We never checked the chests.”

“No,” Law agreed.

Silence fell once more. Doflamingo continued to study Law across the table while Law tried not to think about getting out of the chest and walking away from the Family, sobbing soundlessly until he wasn’t.

Finally, Doflamingo seemed to shake himself out of whatever he was thinking and turned back to his involuntary bodyguard. “Take him back to the brig, would you, Captain Tashigi?”

#Caitlin's fic #One Piece fanfiction #One Piece #One Piece fic #Trafalgar Law #Heart Pirates #Donquixote Doflamingo

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

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Grounded pt4

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Family Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

7k words later and this thing that was supposed to be a short explanation for what I saw as a plot hole in Venom is finally at an end. Got rather out of hand but since when is that unusual with fics? This’ll be proof read, edited, and then posted on AO3/FFN soon; I’m still undecided if I should chapter split it or have it all as a oneshot but it won’t be exactly as it’s been split here because I’ve posted this as I wrote it.

Someone mentioned ‘what if the ep was really like this’ so I’ll reiterate some of my earlier notes: this fic is a reaction to the lack of TB1 or Scott doing any sort of piloting in the S3 Venom despite it being a rescue where speed was important. All the events in part 2 fit around the events we see in the episode seamlessly (I literally watched it in 5 sec bursts as I was writing to make sure of that), so to them and everyone else who thought that: this fic is designed to be that episode, just viewed through a different lens. And then I made it worse after the episode was over because why not.

The reaction to this has been fantastic so far, way beyond anything I expected! Thanks for that, and I hope you enjoy this last installment as much as the rest of it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There was a steady beeping, calm and methodical. Beep… beep… beep… it went, more of a reassurance than an irritant to the dregs of his consciousness. Scott recognised it, but couldn’t place it, and found himself more interested in the fresh air flowing around his mouth and nose. That was more immediately familiar, a constant from his last bout of consciousness, and it didn’t take his stirring brain long to label it as a rebreather.

Was that really necessary? Frowning slightly, he lifted a hand to his face and tugged the machine away, fresh air replaced with warmer air that had just the faintest tang. The air of the sea. He’d been on Thunderbird Two, but Thunderbird Two’s air didn’t taste of warmth and salt, rather the recycled air of an enclosed plane in flight, crisp and just a little bit off. If this wasn’t Thunderbird Two and he was tasting sea air, there was only one place he could possibly be.

He smiled, hand still holding the rebreather falling to his side limply. He was home.

Opening his eyes was a little more of a challenge, eyelids still heavy and eyelashes catching on each other, but as he blinked his way into awareness, beads of moisture forming in the corners of his eyes but not falling, he realised that he was almost sitting upright, the bed raised to its full extent so he was facing the wall with its fake holographic window rather than the plain and boring ceiling.

Scott appreciated that, letting the rebreather fall from his fingers as he wiped the sleep and moisture from his eyes. He’d spent far too many hours staring at the ceiling that never changed, and at least the hologram could change. The actual reasoning behind his positioning was more likely his rib, which Scott would worry about later. It wasn’t his rib that had tried to kill him, and he looked down at his left arm.

A neat band-aid – a childish one, decorated with bright red biplanes soaring across a blue background that he’d always fought for as a kid – stood out against his bare skin, just below the elbow, and he smiled, wondering which of his brothers was responsible for that one. On that same forearm he also saw a cannula, attached to tubing with translucent liquid passing through, and grimaced. He never liked being on a drip.

He was no longer in his uniform. Part of him – the part that contained his pride – bristled at that, wondering who had stripped him while he was unconscious and why, but the clothes he was wearing were comfortable, well-worn, and unmistakable as his favourite pyjamas even without him looking at them. His comfort-pyjamas, although he was fairly certain he’d never made the mistake of letting that slip to anyone. The ones he turned to whenever things got particularly rough, a plain unassuming dark grey with worn patches from the times he’d needed all the support he could get.

It could just be a coincidence, although Scott was uncomfortably aware that if there was one person he couldn’t keep anything truly secret from it was John, but whatever the reason, he was glad of them now. There was nothing like comfort clothes after a near-death experience.

Considering he’d just had a near-death experience, the lack of anyone in the room with him was somewhat unusual. Virgil in particular he’d expected to see, his younger brother blaming himself for bringing him out on the mission even before he’d been bitten, let alone afterwards. Kayo hovering unassumedly in the corner, sharp eyes full of concern. John flickering by his side, watching him for the slightest change. Grandma, retired from caring for strangers but never too old to stay up all night with her family.

Scott eyed the drip. If none of his family were with him, physically or virtually, then that meant something else was going on that trumped his condition. In their family, there was very little that trumped an unconscious brother or grandson. And if they weren’t with him, he had no intentions of staying put.

He’d removed drips hundreds of times – his own and other peoples’. By this point, he had it down to an art, even if his sneaky family had tried to make it harder on him by putting it in his dominant arm; there were benefits to being ambidextrous. He reached across with his right hand, fingers gently probing the needle, and had just found the sweet spot when there was the unmistakable hsss of the door sliding open.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?” Grandma demanded, striding in and gently but firmly forcing him to release his grip. “That’s there for a reason.”

“Hey, Grandma,” he greeted, grinning at her and ignoring that she’d just caught him trying to escape. “How long was I asleep?”

“Your siblings brought you back four and a half hours ago,” she told him, picking up the discarded rebreather and placing it on the bedside table before perching on the bed. Scott watched her carefully, accepting the hand cupping his cheek as a thumb swiped at what was presumably some sleep he’d missed. “Trust you to wake up the one time I have to use the toilet. This old bladder can’t hold it in like it used to.”

Scott grimaced good-naturedly at the tmi and she chuckled at him, patting his cheek lightly twice before letting her hand rest.

“You gave us all a scare there, Scott,” she said softly, eyes running over him once before meeting his own. “You don’t have to try and beat Gordon on that score, you know. It’s okay to let someone else have that crown.”

“I’d appreciate it if he never gave me another scare in my life,” Scott admitted, before glancing around the room again. “Where are they, anyway? Not to sound self-centred, but I don’t usually wake up here alone.”

“Alan and Kayo are dealing with a stalled freighter just outside of orbit and Gordon and Virgil are responding to a sinking cargo ship,” Grandma told him. “They’ll all be back soon, and delighted to know you’ve decided to re-join the land of the living.” She tangled her fingers with his, pressing them to her chest with a hand that was almost trembling. “It was a close call, Scott. Your brother almost didn’t make it in time.”

His brother? Virgil? John? John had had a plan, he remembered that much, although he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the details. Wait…

“I heard Thunderbird One,” he said, recalling the roar that had soothed him to sleep like a purr. It could have been a figment of his imagination, but he didn’t think so. A smile spread across his grandmother’s face.

“Of course you did,” she laughed. “You boys and your machines. Well on your way to see your mother and you still recognised your ‘bird.” The smile was bright for a moment before it dimmed again. “Alan flew all the way to a lab in China to collect a dose of the antivenom before rendezvousing with Thunderbird Two to deliver it. I’ve never seen that ‘bird fly so fast without you in the hotseat.”

Alan. Scott could well imagine his youngest brother, face screwed up in concentration and fear, sat in the pilot’s seat. The idea tied a knot in his chest, but at the same time there was pride, and an unexpected thankfulness for the rib injury that had kept him grounded and subsequently given Alan more flight hours in his ‘bird. Without that…

Without that, he might well have died. The realisation doused him like cold water, his eyes leaving his grandmother’s to stare blindly at his lap. He’d known he was dying, remembered a desperate fight against whispered promises of the stars and seeing his Mom again, but sitting in the infirmary, home and safe, it carried a different weight.

“Oh, Scott,” Grandma whispered, releasing his hand and cheek only to draw him in to a careful hug around his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s over.” After a moment his hands found the back of her always there purple onesie, fisting around the fabric as his head rested in the crook of her neck. “It’s okay.”

There was the slightest of cracks in her voice, a reminder that no matter how much steel she was made of, she wasn’t immune to the idea of loss. Her parents, long ago, before Scott’s memories began. Her husband, daughter in law. Her son, who might still be alive and waiting for them.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, as much for her benefit as his. “I’m okay.”

Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair softly as though he was a young boy woken from a nightmare again. It was the sort of treatment she didn’t give him in front of his brothers, knowing that he preferred to keep up the illusion of strength in front of them, no matter what.

“I want you to take it easy,” she told him after a minute or so, releasing him and instead gripping his hands in hers. One pair was trembling, but he didn’t know if it was his or hers. “I know that’s not in your vocabulary, but I refuse to let you throw yourself back in harms’ way until you’re fully recovered after what happened today.”

“But-” Scott protested, complaints and reasons why he shouldn’t be bedbound queuing up one after the other on the tongue. A single look from his grandmother quelled them all before he could vocalise any.

“If you can’t do it for the sake of your own recovery,” she said, something in her voice implying that she thought he should treat himself better – he treated himself fine! – “then do it for our peace of mind, Scott. We were all terrified when we heard what happened. Virgil was stuck watching you slip away with no way of stopping it. That fear doesn’t magically go away, Scott. We all know that.”

He was saved from answering by the swish of the door opening again. He glanced over, wondering who it could be when he hadn’t heard any Thunderbirds come in to land. Brains and the Mechanic were the only others on the island, and while it wasn’t unusual for Brains to check up on the infirmary, Scott didn’t want the Mechanic near him in his current condition.

It wasn’t the Mechanic. It wasn’t Brains, either – or MAX, for that matter.

“h’Oh, you’re h’awake!” Parker said with a surprised but delighted grin as he fumbled his way into the room carrying a tray laden with food. “h’I was just bringing food for Mrs Tracy…” he trailed off, but continued to approach the bed.

“Parker, you shouldn’t have,” Grandma smiled, releasing one of Scott’s hands to move the rebreather off of the bedside table. The older man set the tray down before stepping up to Scott’s side. He didn’t reach for him, keeping his hands loosely behind his back, but sharp blue eyes raked him up and down.

“’Ow are you feeling?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine,” Scott replied, ignoring the eye roll from his grandmother, who clearly didn’t agree with his assessment. Aside from some token weariness, which he knew was normal after a spell of time unconscious, he really did feel perfectly fine. Even his rib wasn’t bothering him.

“h’I suppose that’s because you’re h’on the good stuff,” Parker shrugged, making Scott pause. He should have realised that, especially after all the trouble his ribs had given him on the mission. The temptation was there to ask how badly his recovery had been set back, but that would have just given Grandma even more ammunition to stay in bed. Besides, he’d be told eventually. Of more immediate interest was Parker’s unexpected visit.

“What brings you to the island, Parker?” he asked, glancing around the room again. “I don’t see Lady Penelope around?”

“M’Lady’s in the lounge,” Parker told him. “We came ‘ere to drop off the Centurion-21 fuel for Brains, but ‘eard h’about you and M’Lady requested to stay h’a while.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Grandma reminded him, and Scott smiled in agreement. “Is she making any progress?”

“h’I couldn’t say for sure,” Parker shrugged. “But I know M’Lady and Master John won’t stop h’until they get their way.”

Scott frowned. Combined, John and Lady Penelope were an almost unstoppable force, but he couldn’t think of any reason for that tag-team, not right now.

“What are they doing?” he asked, because anything that big, he needed to know about. Especially if working on that was a higher priority for John than checking in on him – John, the brother who was too used to sitting out of the loop and firmly inserted himself virtually into any situation with a brother operating at less than one hundred percent. Scott knew he wasn’t at one hundred percent, not even by his own standards.

“Making sure today’s events never happen again,” Grandma answered, curling her hand back around his again.

Today’s events. The rescue? Him being bitten? That was all bad luck, how could they possibly ensure it never happened again? Although, he supposed, if anyone could, it would be the duo currently working on it.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Parker took it upon himself to explain. “h’It transpires that the reason the ‘ospital ran h’out of h’antivenom was a funding problem,” he said, sounding somewhat unimpressed. Scott didn’t blame him – whenever money was the problem, he found himself wanting to strangle whoever had decided lining their pockets was more important than human lives. “M’Lady h’is setting up a charity to make sure all ‘ospitals can ‘ave all the h’antivenoms they need.” Admirable and welcome, but that didn’t explain John’s involvement. He certainly hadn’t been needed in any of her past charity ventures.

“So what’s John doing?” he asked, hoping his brother was not ruining whoever had decided money was more important than lives. It wouldn’t be the first time, and while Scott agreed that they deserved it, sometimes John could go a little too far.

“Arranging for International Rescue to have our own stock of all known antivenoms,” Grandma told him, squeezing his hands gently. “We might not be able to stop spiders sneaking into our Thunderbirds, or you boys throwing yourselves in front of each other, but there is no reason why you should have had to suffer for an hour because you didn’t have the right antivenom on hand.”

That made sense, and Scott nodded his approval. International Rescue did have a stock of common antivenoms, as well as everything they needed to deal with the local fauna on Tracy Island, but if they could broaden that, at least to the most dangerous venoms, it would only be a good thing.

It was also a typical John reaction – finding out why something had gone wrong and immediately finding a way to stop it happening again. That, at least, told Scott that John was okay. If he’d found a solution to the problem then he would be satisfied. No doubt Scott would find himself under close holographic scrutiny in the near future so John could see for himself that he really was fine, but with a solution the what-ifs wouldn’t be playing on his mind.

His other siblings would be less easily pacified. He had no idea what Gordon knew, having not seen his water-loving brother at all that day thanks to a fishing trawler in trouble, but Virgil and Kayo would be kicking themselves black and blue, and Alan would be stuck in the what if I’d been too late loop. Scott knew that feeling very well indeed.

He hadn’t yet decided if the fact that it had launched rather than exploded made the fact that he’d reached the Zero-X too late better or worse. He wasn’t sure he’d ever decide.

“Still, I think we’d better let them know you’ve woken up,” Grandma said, releasing his hands. “I won’t be long, so don’t even think about getting out of that bed, young man.” She shared a look with Parker. “If you’re hungry, see if you can eat some of that food Parker’s brought in.” A gentle hand touched his cheek lightly before she stood up and left the room.

One look at Parker told him he wasn’t going to be going anywhere, especially when the man perched on the section of bed Grandma had just vacated. Parker was the one he’d learnt many of his escaping tricks from – if there was one person that would see through them all, it was the butler.

“h’I wouldn’t be in too much of a ‘urry to h’escape, Master Scott,” the older man said, and Scott found himself relaxing back against the bed. Master Scott. It was his favourite of Parker’s ways of referring to him, but also the rarest. He’d graduated to ‘Mr Scott’ after the Zero-X, the man’s acknowledgement that he was now the head of the family without using the dreaded Mr Tracy. Parker never called him that, not even in public when the rest of the world insisted. Sir was a substitute when society demanded, and Scott always appreciated that.

Master Scott only came out when Parker was being fussy, and never with an audience. Just like Grandma, he knew and accepted there was a front to be held in front of younger siblings – even if neither of them approved. If he was Master Scott, he wasn’t expected to make any decisions or take on any of his father’s responsibilities.

“Some food?” the butler asked, gesturing to the tray. It was homemade, but not by Grandma, and Scott would have to be far worse off to even consider declining that. In answer, he reached for the toast, only for Parker to lightly touch his wrist and stop him. “You’ll get crumbs h’everywhere if you h’eat like that,” the older man scolded lightly. “Stay still, there’s a good lad.”

The tray was relocated to his lap, and Scott tore into the offering as soon as Parker retracted his hands, to an amused chuckle from his companion.

“h’It’s not going anywhere, Master Scott,” Parker reminded him.

“He’s just trying to finish it before the others get home and want to share,” John commented, and Scott’s head jerked up to see his brother’s hologram materialise alongside him. He looked tired, not that that was an unusual occurrence over the past few weeks. “You’re looking better, Scott.”

“I can’t imagine that’s hard,” he managed through a mouthful of food. The last time he’d been aware of John’s presence, he’d been deep in the clutches of deadly venom. If he’d looked half as had as he’d felt, it would have been an awful sight. “How’s the campaign going?”

John pulled a face. “They’re asking for money, which by itself isn’t a problem because I expected that, but they’re trying to charge us triple what they charge hospitals, and as Lady P’s working to get those rates reduced because they’re extortionate, I’m not letting them use our lives to line their pockets.”

Scott grimaced along with him. Money grabbers were the worst.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, because there was no way John was letting that slide.

“Persuading them that it’s better in their interest long-term to not try and bankrupt us,” John offered, a bemused look on his face. “We could afford it, but if they think that they’ll be driving the prices up with every new shipment. More realistically, I’m talking to Colonel Casey to see if the GDF can’t pull some weight. As they’re military and not private, the companies couldn’t charge them as much. It would leave us needing the GDF’s good will for access, but we already know the GDF don’t dare put us out of business.”

It was Scott’s turn to pull a face. He hated getting the GDF involved in anything; for as long as Colonel Casey was a dominant figure in the organisation International Rescue wouldn’t have any issues, but in the longer term he was brutally aware that she was their father’s generation. At some point, she would be forced to retire and then they’d – he’d – have to handle the full force of the GDF without inside help.

Still, he trusted John and Colonel Casey. Anything they implemented would be beneficial to International Rescue.

“Let me know what you come up with,” he requested, and John nodded, turquoise eyes briefly scanning across him.

“Alan and Kayo will be returning home in five minutes,” he told him. “Do you want me to tell them you’re awake or let them find out for themselves when they check in?”

“Tell them once they’ve landed,” Scott decided. “Virgil and Gordon, too – what’s their ETA?”

“They’re racing Thunderbird Three home,” John shrugged. “But Thunderbird Three will win.” Scott chuckled. Alan somehow always won their races home, no matter how much further away he’d been.

“What are they betting this time?” he asked, and John grinned.

“Loser gets to be your slave for the week,” he said.

“Mine?”

“Well you’re not doing much on your own any time soon,” John told him matter-of-factly. “Has Grandma given you the rundown?” Scott blinked, pausing mid-bite.

“I thought I was supposed to be walking around with the ribs,” he ventured tentatively. “But no, I haven’t been told what the damage is yet. Care to fill me in?”

John glanced away at something Scott couldn’t see.

“Your rib re-broke,” he started bluntly. “Which I’m sure you’ve realised. So that’s another six weeks grounded, and this time no-one’s sneaking you onto a Thunderbird before that’s up.”

“Six weeks?” Scott groaned. John raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Well what did you expect?” he asked. “Kayo filled us in on the mission details once you were stable. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“But-” Scott protested. “What about the mission to find Dad?” John shook his head.

“The new Zero-X will take longer that to construct,” he told him. “Brains and the Mechanic finished the T-Drive while you were out in Brazil and we’ve got the fuel, so they’re going to test fire it tomorrow to make sure it’s all working before they start on the craft itself.”

“Tomorrow?” Scott asked. “If it’s ready why not today?”

“Even engineers need breaks sometimes, Scott,” John scolded lightly. “They’ve been working almost non-stop for the past five weeks, which I know you know.” There was a slightly accusatory tone at the end of his sentence, and Scott realised John knew how closely he’d started watching the two engineers. “Besides, Grandma and Virgil won’t let you out of that bed for at least twenty four hours, and we all know you won’t be happy unless you see it for yourself.”

Well, they weren’t wrong.

“You still haven’t told me why I’m getting a slave for a week over a broken rib,” Scott realised, and John once again raised an eyebrow at him.

“You haven’t tried to get out of bed yet?”

“Don’t h’encourage ‘im, Master John,” Parker groaned. “Mrs Tracy ‘ad to stop ‘im h’earlier and ‘e ‘asn’t ‘ad h’a chance since.”

“It was an hour before the antivenom reached you, Scott. The damage doesn’t get miraculously fixed just because the venom’s gone,” John continued. “Your blood pressure is still low so I’d wager you’ll probably pass out if you try to stand right now, no matter how ‘fine’ you feel, and we don’t yet know for sure if it’s done any damage to your heart.”

“My heart?” The soft background beeping caught Scott’s attention and he turned his head to the EKG. It was on, signalling that it was receiving data from wireless transmitters. He put a hand to his chest; underneath the pyjamas he felt the tell-tale patches, leaving him with no doubt that it was his own heartbeat it was recording. “Oh.” That was low. Not dramatically so, but lower than his normal resting rate.

“It’s recovered reasonably well, but Grandma and Virgil still aren’t happy with it,” John told him. From his tone, it wasn’t only the family medics unhappy. “I know you don’t like staying in bed, but unless you want to fall over and make your ribs worse, I would suggest you stay put.”

Scott scowled.

“You’re also recovering from dehydration, so drink up and leave that drip in,” Grandma added, walking back in with a large cup, complete with straw. “I see there’s nothing wrong with your appetite,” she observed. Parker obligingly removed the now-empty tray away from Scott’s lap and stood so that she could sit back on the side of the bed. “Drink.”

Obediently, he took the cup with both hands and sipped at the liquid, which revealed itself to be simply water. A dull rumbling even through the soundproofing of the infirmary told him Thunderbird Three was back. John confirmed that before signing off to talk to their returning siblings.

Scott made a note of the time, wondering how long it would take before he had visitors.

Three minutes later and the door slammed open to find Kayo and Alan shoulder-to-shoulder, clearly racing each other.

“No running in the house!” Grandma barked, but neither of them looked the least apologetic. They did at least walk the distance from the door to his bed, where Grandma had slipped off to let them get closer. Both stopped short, Alan fidgeting from foot to foot at he stared at him with open relief, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Come here,” he told his youngest brother, spreading his arms in demand of a hug. As always, Alan needed no further invitation, crashing into him and wrapping his arms around him tightly, although it didn’t miss Scott’s attention that it wasn’t Alan’s usual rib-squeezing hug. He appreciated that, curling his own arms around his brother’s shoulders.

Alan was trembling. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he mumbled into Scott’s neck. “I thought-”

“I’m still here, kid,” he interrupted quietly. “And I hear I have you to thank for that.” The sniffle he got in response told him it was Alan, the baby brother, rather than Alan the emergency responder he was dealing with. “You did good.”

“I thought I was too late,” Alan mumbled, and there were tears against Scott’s skin. He tightened his grip on his brother. “You looked d-dead. I d-didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m here and breathing,” Scott reminded him, letting him sob on his shoulder as long as he needed, rubbing the neoprene – both siblings were still in uniform – underneath his hand reassuringly. He remembered the same reaction after EOS had first made herself known to them, only that time it had been John Alan had clung to in tears, post-adrenaline rush. They needed to stop putting their lives in Alan’s hands like that.

But Alan would settle, barring the new nightmare fuel that never went away, once he’d let out the initial emotions. It was either a blessing of youth, or a coping strategy he’d been forced to employ too young. Kayo, who was watching with unguarded relief across her face, was like John; pragmatic and level-headed. A serious conversation would settle her, although when she met his eyes, he linked his hands together behind Alan’s back and made them flutter, shooting her a quick grin.

The resulting glower she sent him didn’t hide the softening in her eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped. Satisfied for the moment, he returned his attention to his youngest brother, who seemed content to stay where he was. Scott let him, nodding at Parker when the older man gestured that he was going to leave the room.

No sooner was Parker gone than Gordon burst through the door, Virgil hot on his heels.

“Scott!” Gordon skidded to a stop just behind Alan, reaching out to put a hand on Scott’s shoulder where he could. “Don’t do that again,” he demanded, amber eyes flicking to the EKG for a split second before he found some space to perch on the bed behind Alan.

“Like you’re one to talk,” Scott shot back. Gordon grinned.

“I won’t if you don’t,” he said. “Deal?”

“Deal.”

They couldn’t really promise that, not in their profession, but Scott saw something lift behind Gordon’s eyes, the banter regardless doing something to reassure him. Gordon had always used humour to cope.

Four siblings down, or at least addressed, and one to go. Somehow, Scott didn’t think a hug or joke would work quite so well on Virgil. Guilt was deep-set in brown eyes, but Virgil didn’t look at him directly, focusing on the EKG and drip as he bustled around.

“Virgil,” he said, pulling one hand away from Alan to catch his brother’s arm the moment Virgil got in reach. It was the arm with the needle in it, bright band aid stark against his skin. Virgil’s eyes focussed on it and Scott sighed, tightening his grip on the neoprene beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” He couldn’t do much, not while Alan was still clinging to him, but hell if he was going to let Virgil shut himself away and stew in a self-inflicted puddle of misplaced guilt.

Virgil stilled, but didn’t obey. Scott closed his eyes and sighed again, squeezing Alan lightly. The blond snuffled but didn’t otherwise move.

“Virgil.” That was John’s voice, his final brother reappearing holographically at the foot of Scott’s bed. The middle brother ignored him, too.

“Kid, your brother’s talking to you,” Grandma chipped in. “At least have the manners to look at him.” Despite the words, there was no scolding in her tone, just a quiet encouragement. Virgil glanced up at her, and a look passed between them that Scott couldn’t see before Virgil slowly turned to face him.

“Thank you,” he said before Virgil could apologise, or say something else nonsensical. Whatever his brother had been gearing up for, it clearly wasn’t that; he blinked, startled, before opening his mouth to probably-protest. “I know it was Alan that got the antivenom, but you’re the one that kept me alive long enough to get it.”

“I’m the reason you needed it in the first place!” Virgil snapped, looking away again. “If I’d paid more attention… if I-”

“If nothing,” Scott interrupted, conscious that they had an audience but unable to ask anyone to leave. He wanted his family there, with him, and knew they were all busy reassuring themselves that he was going to be fine. “You’d have done the same thing if our positions were reversed, except I’m not as good as you with all the medical stuff.”

“You’d have done enough,” Virgil mumbled, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“And you did enough,” he returned. “No what-ifs, Virgil.” Hell knew he’d told himself that enough through the years, with varying levels of success.

Virgil at least met his eyes again, even though Scott could see it wasn’t enough to lift the guilt. That would take much longer, including him making a full recovery and a conversation without the rest of the family listening in, intentionally or not.

“You’re staying in that bed,” he said instead, and Scott made a grumbling noise of protest.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied. “I can’t say I’m happy about it, but John made quite the compelling argument.”

“Does this mean you’ll listen to me for once?” John asked disbelievingly, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean, for once?” Scott asked. “I listen to you!”

“When it suits you,” John rebuked. “I have a list, if you’d care to hear it.”

Scott wouldn’t put it past John to actually have a list. He turned his attention back to his other brothers without responding, to an amused noise from the space monitor, and gave Alan a grin as the youngest finally pulled back from his shoulder, eyeing him with teary blue eyes.

“I’ll sit on you if you try and get up,” the youngest told him firmly, look somewhat ruined by those eyes. Gordon laughed.

“Alan, you’re a twig.”

“Am not, fishboy!”

“Are, too!”

“Not!”

“Boys,” Kayo interrupted, taking a few steps closer to the cluster on the bed. With one arm now free, Scott reached for her and got a light hug at his silent request. It didn’t last long, but it was enough for the rest of the tension to leave her shoulders before she stepped back, out of his reach again.

“Hey, where’s my hug?” Gordon demanded, and Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“You want a hug, you’ve got to come get it yourself,” he said. “I’m not moving.”

Permission gained, Gordon shoved Alan out of the way, the younger falling off the bed with a squawk of indignation, and wrapped himself around Scott. It was far looser than his usual hugs, but out of all his brothers, Gordon was best at gauging what an injured person could take. Scott rested his chin on his shoulder, feeling the dampness of the neoprene that betrayed that Gordon had been in the water during his mission.

Tension drained out of his aquanaut brother’s powerful shoulders and Scott found himself relaxing as well. He’d always found it easiest to relax and wind down when his brothers were okay, and with three out of four openly reassured, his own nerves were less on edge.

“I’m still sorry,” Virgil said after a moment. Scott still had hold of his bicep, and glanced up at him as he spoke. That pain and guilt was still there in brown eyes, but it was Gordon and Alan that Virgil was looking at. A big brother himself, he too was being drawn into some sort of reassurance by the youngest two calming down.

There were many responses Scott could give, and maybe later once it was just the two of them he’d dive deeper in if Virgil hadn’t managed to settle himself and needed a stronger release, but in that moment, with his family around him and the knowledge that whatever happened next, they’d survived this hurdle, there was only one thing to say.

“I know.”

Surprised brown eyes met his, as though Virgil had expected another rebuke, another it’s not your fault, but Scott knew better. He didn’t blame Virgil at all, but it wasn’t his forgiveness Virgil needed; his brother needed to forgive himself for his perceived transgressions, and that he couldn’t do as long as Scott stayed stubborn. He tugged at the bicep in his grip, coaxing Virgil closer with an inviting smile.

Virgil hesitated, understanding but unsure. Scott didn’t say anything else, didn’t push harder, but then Grandma put a hand on Virgil’s other arm and whatever remaining fight there was seeped away.

It was Gordon’s turn to squawk as he found himself nudged out of the way, but he went willingly, surrendering the space to Virgil as Scott’s dark-haired brother wrapped his arms around him cautiously.

“I’m okay,” Scott murmured into his brother’s ear, returning the hug as fiercely as he could. Like Alan before him, Virgil shook ever so slightly under his touch, but unlike the youngest, no tears were shed.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Virgil mumbled. “You stopped breathing for a minute just before Alan arrived and I thought that was it.”

“I heard you,” Scott admitted, just as quietly. “I don’t think I’d have had the strength to keep fighting without you. Alan might have got the antivenom, but you saved me, too.”

Virgil gave a shuddering breath and his arms tightened, just a little.

They stayed like that for several minutes, Scott managing to relax further now that was the fifth and final sibling’s immediate concerns addressed, but eventually Virgil pulled back, the ghost of a smile on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, Gordon crashed into him.

“Group hug!” he declared, reaching out to snag Alan and pinning an unprotesting Virgil in place as Scott’s three youngest brothers gathered as close as they could for a tangle of arms and bodies on Scott’s bed. Alan flailed in Kayo’s direction and the woman stepped closer, slipping an arm delicately around the back of Scott’s neck and more tightly around Alan. Scott grinned at her before looking past the mass of brothers to lock eyes with the one he couldn’t reach. John grinned back at him, and even though he wasn’t physically there, Scott didn’t need it to know his immediate brother was just as relieved.

The hug lasted until Grandma intervened, suggesting that they let him have a little bit of space. He didn’t need space, but they all heard the underlying reminder that he was in that bed for a reason. After that, it was back to business as usual, his on-Earth siblings scattering to change on Grandma’s order and reconvening later in their civvies with various forms of entertainment while John went back to his latest project.

Lady Penelope poked her head in later, but he didn’t see Brains – or the Mechanic – until the next day.

“I-it’s time to t-test the T-Drive e-engine,” the engineer told him the next morning, after checking him over in his own desire for reassurance; there was some guilt there as well, for pushing him out on the rescue, but thankfully Brains was much easier to calm than his brothers – the fact that Brains hadn’t seen him almost dead helped.

“Give me five,” he said, reaching for the drip stuck in his arm.

“Make that ten, Brains,” Virgil rumbled, catching Scott’s hand. “Scott’s not up to walking even if he thinks he is.”

Scott groaned, but Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought John made a convincing argument for you to stay in bed?” he challenged, and Scott shrugged.

“That was yesterday.”

“And your heart rate still isn’t back to normal, so it’s the hoverchair or nothing,” Virgil rebuked, rolling his eyes.

Scott sighed but dutifully held out his arm for Virgil to remove the drip instead.

“No, that’s coming with you,” Virgil corrected, gently pushing it down to his side again. “Just the EKG.” The machine was turned off, but Virgil made no move to relieve him of the transmitters, telling Scott that it was being linked back up later. Wonderful. “Now then, let’s get you out of this bed-”

Scott leaned forwards and swung his legs around, placing them on the floor and pushing himself to his feet.

“Woah!” Virgil sprinted around the bed and caught him as his vision fuzzed. “John’s compelling argument?” Scott was vaguely aware of being shifted around as the world spun around him, but it was a surprise to find himself in the hoverchair by the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again. Usually, Virgil would dump him straight back in bed.

“Okay, John’s compelling argument still holds,” he admitted, leaning against the back of the chair and closing his eyes briefly as the world tried to spin a little more.

“Let’s get going,” Virgil sighed. “Hands off the controls; I’m steering.” Scott grumbled, but had no doubt that the controls had actually been disabled. “As soon as the test is over, you’re coming straight back.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked, and Virgil chuckled.

“Not at all.”

They were last to the balcony; it didn’t escape Scott’s notice that the Mechanic was the other end to the rest of them, talking quietly to Brains but otherwise ignoring the Tracys. That suited Scott just fine; if the test worked, he was well aware he owed the man an apology for his accusations of sabotage. Although maybe he’d keep that back until the Zero-X2 launched successfully and Dad was home. Just in case.

“You look pale,” Grandma commented. “Did he try to stand up?” she asked Virgil. Scott glowered as Virgil rolled his eyes in answer.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically. “He didn’t pass out entirely, otherwise the test would be happening without him, whether he liked it or not, but it was close.”

“He is right here,” Scott grumbled.

“And he’s going to keep his mouth shut and drink this up,” Grandma informed him, pressing a cup of water, complete with straw, into his hands. “You shouldn’t be out of bed at all, young man.”

“T-test is ready,” Brains announced before Scott could find a retort that wouldn’t get him taken straight back to the infirmary. “I-igniting T-Drive in three, two, one.”

Without binoculars, it was difficult to see what was happening on the platform, but nothing exploded and after several moments all that could be seen or heard was the whining of an engine. It was higher pitched than the engines Scott was used to, but there were none of the warning noises suggesting that something was wrong.

Beside him, Virgil sighed in relief while Gordon and Alan whooped.

“C-cutting engine,” Brains called, and it powered down easily. Smooth as any of the best plane engines Scott had piloted – and he’d piloted many.

It had worked. They had a T-Drive engine.

They could go find Dad.

“Scott?” Virgil sounded worried, and he opened his eyes – when he had closed them? – to look up at his worried brother. Alan and Gordon hovered nearby, and he looked at them all in turn, even John’s silent hologram – his ginger brother hadn’t been there when the test had started, hadn’t been expected after he pointed out their holotech’s range didn’t reach that far. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay? He had a broken rib, was recovering from a near-fatal spider bite and its side effects of dehydration, bradycardia and hypotension, and the man who had almost killed his brothers multiple times was standing the other end of the same balcony.

But they were one step, one significant step closer to Dad.

“Yeah,” he said, staring out past them, at the platform cradling the most important engine International Rescue had ever created. For the first time since that horrid trash mine day five weeks earlier, he could honestly say, “I’m okay.”

Fin

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #aloysius parker #lady penelope creighton-ward #brains #the mechanic #kayo kyrano #grounded

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pabotofus · 5 years ago

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Nothing’s changed in the past millenia. For the first time, Hades considers that maybe it should.

 (A retelling of canon events from Hades’ POV, focusing on his relationship with Persephone.) 

Notes: This was based off of the plot/lyrics from the NYTW run and only includes Hades/Persephone songs on the live album (I’m sorry @How Long). 

Fic also under cut

Persephone’s voice carries loudly in the empty halls. She’s angry.

At him, presumably.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask my husband?”

Hades knows the term is supposed to be far more endearing than she makes it out to be. Persephone wields the word like a weapon, pinning it to him with sharp glares and a derisive scoff.

Maybe her voice carries because she wants him to hear it, Hades thinks. But then again, she’s always been particularly loud.

Hades wonders who she’s talking to. He wonders what he’s done for the term to roll off her tongue the way one would say the name of an enemy.

He keeps walking, almost relishing in her expression of shock as she turns the corner and nearly slams into him.

“Wife,” he greets. There is no emotion in his voice.

Persephone’s nostrils flare, and her lips twist into a frown before she stalks past him. Hades sighs through his nose, almost inaudible, and continues walking.

He builds his armor thicker against her words. What else can he do?

That night, another factory springs up.

That night, the pale lily on his desk wilts.

The workers in Hadestown call him “my lord”, bowing their heads and barely veiling their contempt with respect.

Persephone does not bother with pretending.

Hades walks around his factories, watching his workers’ shoulders stiffen and the clacking of machinery quicken as he nears.

“My lord,” they say as he passes, their voices blending into a low murmur.

He opens the door and sees Persephone about to enter, a suspiciously wrapped bundle tucked under her arm.

“What, refreshments for me?” Hades’ lips stretch into a thin imitation of a smile. “How thoughtful.”

Persephone narrows her eyes.

“Of course, my lord,” she grits out, and shoves the bundle into his chest.

Before he can even open his mouth, she disappears, leaving behind the faint smell of strawberries.

Hades carries the bundle with him as he completes his rounds. The further along the wall he walks, the more that the sweet smell sours into the familiar tang of decay.

When he finally opens the bundle, the fruit is rotten, apples spotted and soft to the touch.

Useless things, not really meant for him anyway. Maybe Persephone is right to stop pretending. There is no warmth to be wrung out of forced gestures.

He throws them out.

The next morning, the apples are gone from the trash bin.

The next morning, Hades sees the cores badly hidden among the machinery. A single apple sits on the doorstep where he had bumped into her the day before, mockingly ripe.

Hades is familiar with the things that his workers call him behind his back.

They’re neither bold enough nor stupid enough to say it to his face, but Persephone is, and she makes up for it in spades.

“This place is a rotten fucking dump and I can’t wait to see the day it crashes down on you,” she screams. “To hell with your goddamn factories and power grids. Unnatural, shitty excuses for the harbor you claim them to be!”

He knows he shouldn’t, and in another world he might not have, but this time—and like every time before—he responds in kind.

“Ungrateful woman,” he snarls. “I give you all I have to offer and you throw it all away?”

Persephone laughs and the sound grates into his soul.

“If you call this ‘trying’ you have hell of a lot to work on.”

“You want warmth, I give it to you. You complain about the atmosphere, I put stars in the sky for you and-”

“You say warmth and set enough fires to burn this place alive,” she sneered. “The so called stars are bright enough to blind, and don’t even try pretending you give a shit about anyone.”

Hades is slipping under her rage and they both know it.

Persephone huffs and crosses her arms around her waist. “Things used to be better, you know. Before you built this hellhole and that damned wall.”

“Things are just fine and you would see it if you bothered getting off of that high horse of yours. Don’t you see I’m doing all of this for you, because I care-”

“Ooh, does the big powerful king of the Underworld have emotions?” She mocks. “Could’ve had me fooled, you know. I’m sure the workers would agree.”

“You’re the only one who complains about this,” he deflects, grasping at straws and half-truths. She was the only one who made a fuss—as well as the only one who knew she could do so without retribution. “What, do you have higher standards because you’re an almighty goddess of pollen and hay fever? If the workers are fine with it-”

“If the workers are fine with it,” Persephone spits, “then you can drag another one of them down into this dump!”

“Maybe I will!”

“Maybe you should find a better wife while you’re at it, if you think I’m so horrible!”

“Oh, I don’t believe that’ll be too difficult,” Hades snaps.

Persephone levels a glare at him and bursts into rose petals and sharp briars that crumble into ash not even seconds after she disappears.

Any way he looks at it, Hades is trapped between not doing anything and doing what she says, and neither of those are good options.

Hades is a man of habit.

The next day, Hades tells the Fates to keep everyone in line and goes up to the human world.

The next day, Persephone slams open the doors just in time to see the life flicker out of the eyes of a young girl.

Persephone does not speak to him for the next few days.

Somehow, no names are worse than horrible ones.

The first time she deigns to look at him after their fight, she smiles too sweetly and tells him, “You fucked up.”

Hades scoffs, breezing past her.

“Don’t believe me? See for yourself.”

He turns around and sighs. Persephone has draped herself over her throne, feet dangling onto his.

“You-”

“We can have our little chat later,” she says, and he tries not to roll his eyes at her nonchalant tone. “It’s incredibly rude of you to ignore your visitor.”

The throne room doors behind Persephone creak open, and he tears his eyes away from her to glance at the mortal boy standing there.

“Who is he?” Hades demands.

Persephone smirks at him and repeats her previous words, stretching her feet further onto his throne.

“You fucked up, darling.”

Hades hates the way the word is tacked on to the end, like she put it there just to rile him up. Hades hates the way he knows it’s only there to annoy him.

Suddenly, he isn’t so sure he likes being addressed again.

That night, he sneaks out to the factories.

That night, he finds his newest recruit and the mortal boy kissing underneath the electric stars and smoky clouds, and doesn’t understand why they would risk so much for something as fickle as love. Persephone, spotting him as she leaves, doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t.

Sometimes Hades feels like he and Persephone are going around in circles.

She doesn’t talk to him or mention him at all, not since the “darling” incident. But she speaks, and when she speaks, he listens, and as he listens, he understands.

He hears her speak to the mortal girl, just as he’s been talking to the boy. He hears her talk to the mortal girl and only hears Hades, Hades, Hades.

Like Hades, I wish to the gods that you were dead.

Hades, don’t you remember; why did you have to change?

And Hades… do you still love me?

But Hades is a man of habit, and his habits have the unfortunate effect of ruining things for everyone. His old rhetoric is the one that sits the most comfortably on his tongue, and it’s the one that leaves his lips, sickly sweet and rotting.

His words are directed at the boy, but the meaning for the woman he calls his wife. He punctuates his sentences with the shrieks of metal on metal, attacking her with every way he knows how.

That day, he wins the battle.

That day, he realizes he’s not even sure what war he’s fighting.

Hades doesn’t know what he expected.

He owns the workers’ souls but Persephone holds their hearts, and it’s all too clear which one really matters. Now, the boy threatens to take even what little Hades clings on to.

Hades is desperate, and he’s spiteful. He’s the lord of the underworld, king of the dead, and yet Persephone sympathizes with the mortal and his stupid emotions. Worst of all, he doesn’t even understand why.

He finds himself not understanding a lot of things these millenia. He doesn’t understand Persephone, he doesn’t understand the boy, doesn’t understand love.

Hades is an old god, and he is a tired god. Tired of fighting too much and trying too hard and doing everything just to fail in the end. Tired of the same things that happen every spring and every fall, tired of dancing around in circles. Tired of being stuck.

Because on one hand, he’s the king of the Hadestown, the man of habit, who would crush the boy with an iron fist and send him back up to the world above with a broken guitar and a broken heart.

On the other hand, he’s also an old soul; an old, old soul hopelessly in love with a woman doomed to leave him again and again and again, who would give the boy the chance that he himself never got.

But the name of Hades has a reputation to protect and an empire to build, and Hades cannot afford to be either of the two.

The Fates sing in his ear, a cackling cacophony of fear and doubt and he knows he has a choice to make.

That night, listening to the boy pour his heart out, Hades makes a choice that could save them.

That night, listening to the echoes of his own heart, Hades makes a choice that could save himself.

“You think they’ll make it?”

Hades answers truthfully. “I don’t know.”

Persephone keeps her voice surprisingly neutral. Forcefully neutral.

“Hades, you let them go.”

He hasn’t heard her say his name in a long, long time. He sighs, staring at their retreating forms.

“I let them try,” he corrects.

“And how about you and I?” Persephone challenges. “Are we going to try again?”

It is in that moment that he realizes what she wants.

“It’s almost spring.”

Persephone’s expression shutters and twists into a scowl. His hand, growing ever closer to hers, is met with the cold chill of absence as she snatches hers away.

Hades does something he hasn’t done in centuries. He reaches out to her.

“We’ll try again next fall?”

Persephone’s expression softens, and lets her fingers slip between his.

“Wait for me?”

In this moment, Hades hears an answer.

In this moment, Hades hears the softest whisper of a question.

Hades remembers when they were younger gods, when they danced in the sun and snuck behind Demeter’s back. He remembers when she came down and the factories were not factories but fields of gemstone flowers that bloomed the whole winter through. He remembers when she let him call her Kore, when she wove him flower crowns that did not wilt until the next spring. He remembers when they loved each other.

He remembers when they tried.

Hades looks over at Persephone and squeezes her hand.

“I will.”  ____________________________________________________________________ Special big big thank you to my bff and just generally amazing human being, Inara!! Thank you so much for putting up with my bs and helping me with a bunch of stuff related to this fic (go follow her at biorpheus.tumblr.com you wont regret it) Also- title is from Just Give Me a Reason by P!nk

#hadestown #hades/persephone #hades #persephone #my writing #aahflks #it's been so long since i posted fic #hope u guys like it!#hhhhhhhhhh #emma scribbles

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inukouga · 6 years ago

Text

if my heart was a house (you’d be home)

AO3 / fics

non-au

pairing(s): inukog (established), gintaku (established, mentioned)

words: 4k+

a/n: I FINALLY FIGURED OUT A TITLE thanks to @itsalwayssunnyinmypussy ! thank you for being an amazing beta as well!! also thank you to @yukiothecollielover for being an amazing second beta too :’) okay!! so! the inukog is definitely more towards the end, but i really wanted to take the opportunity to attempt to flesh out the wolf tribe a little more and add in the headcanons i have for them (i might’ve uh, ignored canon a little...)!

Inuyasha rises, suddenly alert, when he detects a distinct scent in the air.

He'd know the smell of blood anywhere, and from how strong it is, there's a lot of it. What makes him rush to the entrance of the wolves’ den is the fact that it’s familiar, and dread begins to creep over him like an icy chill.

Kouga's blood.

Along with the scent, is the acrid tang of poison.

“Move it! We've got wounded!" Someone calls out from behind, and Inuyasha sees the arrival of the scouting group that had been sent out earlier in the evening. Curious about the sudden commotion, most of the tribe gathers at the den’s entrance. Once they realize the severity of the situation, some rush out to help bring the injured in and prepare the necessary accommodations. He had a feeling they were taking too long, he should've known something had gone wrong, should've gone out after them— “Someone get Chizue!” A member of the scouting group shouts.

Multiple limp wolf demons are carried in, some have their eyes shut tightly, while others are wide eyed, their abnormally dilated pupils a clear sign of shock. The stench of the poison almost overwhelms Inuyasha, and he covers his nose with the sleeve of the fire rat robe. His heart sinks when he sees Ginta frantically hauling Hakkaku in, but when he sees Kouga being carried in, blood all over him and staining the furs he wears around his waist with a red so dark that they look like they’ve been dipped in ink, it feels like he can’t breathe.

There’s a tiny bit of relief when he sees Kouga’s chest rise and fall, indicating that he’s still breathing, still alive. Inuyasha’s so distracted by the sight of him as some of the other wolves help Kouga, that he barely registers several sets of footsteps rapidly approaching from inside the den.

Chizue, accompanied by a pair of younger wolf demons whose names Inuyasha can’t recall at the moment, makes it to the main clearing.

“How many?" Is the first question she asks, her calm demeanor denoting centuries of experience in situations like these. She scents the air and he knows she's also taken note of the poison when her eyes narrow.

Ginta, returning from assisting Hakkaku, responds, "About five injured, three of the five were bit. Chief was one of 'em."

“I see. Has it been slain?” Inuyasha knows the healer is referring to the large serpent demon that had been lurking around the mountains for a while now. Numerous hunting groups had been sent out specifically to locate it and drive it out. However, the scouting patrol that’s arriving now had been sent out merely to take a look around the territory’s borders for any other trespassers.

“Yeah, it's dead," He says. "Kouga managed to finish it off before he collapsed."

Of course he did. Knowing Kouga, he'd most likely flung himself at the giant beast to protect the others without sparing a thought for his own well being. Inuyasha wants to be more angry at Kouga for putting himself at risk like that, he really does, but instead he feels his chest grow warm with something resembling pride. Kouga’s fierce devotion and loyalty to his tribe has always been admirable.

Chizue turns to the two young demons beside her, “Akane, Genki, go and help them get settled and treat those who are doing the most poorly. Do you two remember what I use for venom?” At their nod, she ushers them towards the healer’s chamber, a decently sized crack in the rock wall that opens up into a small cavern, hidden by hanging tendrils of lichen. “Good, now go.”

“It…” Ginta frowns, looking off to where Kouga was taken. “It bit two others, but it let ‘em go right away. When it bit Chief… it held on and started to wrap itself around him. Even after Kouga killed it, it took us a while to pry it off and free him,” There’s a brief, somber pause in which they both dwell on other possible, darker outcomes and what ifs, and Inuyasha decides that he doesn’t want to be present for any of the speculation.

“I’ll go check on him,” He mutters, not bothering to check if Ginta or Chizue hear him. Inuyasha quickly scales the rock walls leading up to the leader’s chamber, and not even the typically soothing sounds of the waterfall can quell the anxiety that seems to only grow stronger as he nears his destination.

When he arrives, Kouga is stretched out on his back and lying on a pile of furs, barely conscious.

The wolf demon’s hands are almost completely covered in blood; a sign that he’d most likely tried to stave off the bleeding immediately. The scent of venom is stronger now that he’s closer to Kouga, almost dizzying in its potency, and Inuyasha’s nose wrinkles as he approaches and sits beside him.

He removes Kouga’s headband, pushes his fringe back and is immediately startled at how hot his forehead feels.

He can see a bit of the wound from where the serpent’s fangs seem to have bitten through the armor. Just from the little he’s able to see, he can tell that the poison has drastically hindered the healing process; he can even see the venom slowly eating away at the flesh near the wound. If the serpent demon hadn’t been venomous, the bite wound would’ve already been on it’s way to fully healing by now, even without Chizue’s medicinal herbs speeding it up.

Inuyasha removes the fur pauldrons first before taking off the chest armor, careful not to move Kouga around too much— despite his impatience pushing him to take the damn thing off already— and finally manages to take a look at the wound in full.

There are two large puncture wounds in Kouga’s torso, the skin around them swollen and an angry red. Underneath the smell of poison is the sour scent of decay. There’s no telling how deep the wounds are, or what the true extent of the damage is based on what’s on the surface. He has to wait for Chizue to come and take a look. For now, there’s nothing he can do.

Inuyasha hates this feeling. The feeling of uselessness that hits him as he watches Kouga’s chest slowly rise and fall accompanied by his labored breathing.

“If the venom had been more potent, it’d be looking much worse than it does now.”

Startled, he looks up and meets the gaze of the healer of the wolf tribe. Chizue makes her way over to where they are and kneels by Kouga’s other side, putting a hand on his forehead. She remains silent for a few moments, eyes darting to Kouga’s exposed wound. Inuyasha waits for her to say something, anything about Kouga’s condition, but she doesn’t say a word. Just when Inuyasha feels his patience wearing thin, she stands up.

“Come, Inuyasha,” She says, beckoning for him to get up. “I have something prepared for him.” Inuyasha hesitates, but Chizue shakes her head. “It will do you no good to simply sit here and do nothing. It will not help you, nor will it help him,” Her eyes soften. “He’ll be just fine. Come.”

Her last words make the last shreds of hesitance fade away. He gets up and follows her wordlessly, sparing Kouga one last glance before he leaves.

“Shouldn’t you be helping them first?” Inuyasha raises a brow as he takes a look at some of the others that had been on the scouting patrol. They’re all lying on piles of animal furs, most unconscious.

Chizue sighs. “Some are indeed worse off, but traditionally the tribe leader almost always receives priority when it comes to injuries or wounds of this magnitude.” He doesn’t miss the concern in her gaze as she eyes one of the younger wolf demons that had been bitten.

Inuyasha frowns. As much as he wants for her to check on Kouga first, it’s not what Kouga would want. Screw tradition, he’d say. Inuyasha almost smiles at the thought.

“C'mon, you know that dumb wolf won't let ya near him until you've treated everyone else," Inuyasha sighs. He can already picture Kouga's stubborn resistance at Chizue helping him first. "He’ll throw a stupid tantrum like a big baby and waste your time. I'll help him. Just show me what to do."

Chizue smiles at him, equal parts amused and grateful.

“Young Kouga has always been rather headstrong, oftentimes to a fault, just like his mother, our last Chief,” The elder wolf demoness laughs and shakes her head fondly. "The wound has probably already healed a bit, but the venom is impairing the healing process, so we must do something about that first," She says, looking through the carefully organized stockpile of various natural herbs, salves, poultices and medicinal remedies stored in small nooks in the cracks running along the rock walls.

Though he’d never say it aloud, Inuyasha’s always been fascinated by how Chizue can remember where specific herbs grow and which remedies help certain ailments. She’s told him that she knows cures for even the most obscure of sicknesses, and she always asks the ancestors of the wolf tribe for their blessings after treating a patient.

“If not for our ancestors, especially the many, many other tribe healers before me, we wouldn’t have all this valuable knowledge,” He remembers her telling him one day as she organized her stockpile, taking note of what she was running low on, “Our tribe’s been through difficult trials, but because of the determination of our ancestors, we persevere, thrive, and prosper, even stronger and more united than before. So, I always make sure to give them my gratitude and show them that they’re not forgotten.”

Once Chizue gathers what she needs, she kneels next to Hakkaku, and begins to carefully remove his armor to gain better access to his wounds. Inuyasha settles himself next to her, watching as Hakkaku winces when Chizue applies the medicine.

Inuyasha studies her movements carefully, trying to give her his undivided attention, though his mind occasionally drifts to Kouga. Instinctively, his hand moves to clutch the handle of Tessaiga as he recalls Kouga's groans of pain as he was hurriedly carried into the caves, and the brief glimpse Inuyasha had caught of the wound when he went to see him. He knows that if they hadn't told him that Kouga managed to slay the intruder, he would've immediately gone and sought to kill the wretched creature himself.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Chizue grinding dried herbs with a stone and watches as she sprinkles them evenly on top of the salve she’d already applied, before bandaging it all up with scraps of cloth. Hakkaku lets out a low whimper as she finishes. Inuyasha can feel Ginta’s presence nearby. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ginta was hovering right by the entrance, worried sick for his mate.

“This should help get extract most of the venom," Chizue hands him a small clay bowl containing a poultice and a few dried herbs wrapped in a thin cloth. “Along with some lavender and echinacea to help soothe the swelling. After the venom is gone, his body will heal on its own. I’ll be sure to pray for him once I’m finished with the others.” Inuyasha doesn’t even realize he’s frowning worriedly until he feels Chizue place a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder. Briefly, as he looks into the elder demoness’ eyes, he finds himself reminded of Kaede. “He’ll be fine, Inuyasha. Kouga’s always been resilient, but you being beside him will give him even more strength to endure this.”

Thanking her with a grunt, he takes both the herbs and salve from her, idly glancing around the room to the rest of the wounded demons that were part of the scouting group.

“You’ve been good for him, you know," She says just as he’s getting up to leave. Surprised, he pauses, turning to look at her. "Kouga's always been rather high-spirited, but in all the time I've watched him grow up, I can’t think of a time that I've seen him as happy as he is now. I believe it all started when he began to visit you and those friends of yours," She smiles kindly. “The sudden passing of both his mother and father was devastating for both him and the entire tribe, but despite all that, he’s grown up to become a great Chief. Now though, it’s like he’s back to how he was when his parents were with us. If his mother was alive to see him now, she would be very proud.”

Inuyasha knows that Chizue and Kouga are close, but to know that someone else in the tribe besides Ginta and Hakkaku had known about Kouga’s feelings— he averts his gaze, trying to decide if he should feel embarrassed or touched at the revelation.

“I think it’d be best if this remains between us,” Chizue winks at him conspiratorially, before she kneels down to begin tending to the young wolf demon she’d been worried about earlier. "Go on then. I know you’re very anxious to go to him. Don't let me keep you." She gestures for one of the apprentices, Akane, to sit beside her, and immediately gets to work.

He tries to come up with a response to all of that— what can he say?— but he's always had trouble with words, has always found it easier to communicate through his actions. He places a hand on her shoulder and when she looks up at him, he meets her gaze and hopes that he's able to convey how much everything she’s told him means to him.

“If ya need any help, don't be afraid to call for me, alright?” Inuyasha says over his shoulder, walking through the curtain of lichen and leaving the healer’s cavern.

When he returns to the leader’s chamber, Kouga's up.

He’s already looking toward the entrance when Inuyasha comes in, and grins weakly when the half demon sits beside him.

“How’s everyone else?” He rasps, forgoing a greeting.

“Fine, I think. Chizue’s lookin’ at the others who were bit first. Other than that, nothin’ fatal.”

“Good,” Kouga sighs, relieved. Inuyasha smacks him on the side of his head, prompting a hiss. He holds back quite a bit though; the mangy wolf is already going through enough. “Ow! The hell was that for!?”

“For bein’ dumb and not seeing her as soon as possible, that’s what!”

“I was unconscious! How the hell did you expect me to go see her!?”

“You were awake when I came back, you could’ve called for someone,” He interrupts before Kouga can reply, feeling his earlier concern manifest into frustration. “...and even if you were conscious before that, you would’ve been fightin’ to be seen last,” When no denial came from the injured demon, Inuyasha scoffs. “That’s what I thought.”

“Chizue's already busy enough with everyone else. Even if I was awake, I wasn't gonna bother her when she already has a lot to do," Kouga growls.

“That poison could’ve done a lotta damage,” Inuyasha knows he’s right, and even if the stubborn wolf demon won’t admit it, Kouga knows he’s right too. Kouga opens his mouth to say something, then seems to decide against it and promptly closes it, choosing to settle on an annoyed grunt instead. Abruptly, he lets out a sharp hiss, eyes screwed shut.

“You better not die on me," Though Inuyasha’s tone is sharp, he gently nudges Kouga to get better access to his wound. "If you die under my watch I’ll be the one they’ll blame.”

Kouga laughs and shakes his head. "You're crazy if you think that pitiful excuse for a demon could finish me off.”

“It almost did,” Inuyasha mutters, trying to ignore the worry that’s still gnawing at him. “Now shut up so I can focus.”

“Well, it didn’t,” The wolf demon retorts, then winces when Inuyasha starts to apply some of the salve. “Ow! Careful with that!”

Inuyasha rolls his eyes. “What, can’t take a little sting, Kouga? Hmph, you’re wimpier than I thought. Now shut up and hold still already.”

“Not my fault you’re puttin’ that stuff on me like a damn brute!”

“Any more comin’ from you and I'll leave ya to do it yourself!" The half demon snarls, though he does try to be more careful.

Inuyasha's brows are furrowed in concentration as he attempts to copy what the wolf tribe healer had shown him. Compared to her meticulous and skilled application, his own is hesitant and clumsy, but he’s determined. He recalls little bits and pieces he’d learned from when his mother and Kagome would patch him up in the past. In the end, it isn't perfect, but it looks close enough to what Chizue did to leave him satisfied.

He frowns, unsure. Then he decides that he'll get her to check on it later, just in case.

“You done?” Kouga asks, and when Inuyasha nods, he attempts to sit up, but fails to hold back a pained groan. Inuyasha puts both hands on Kouga's shoulders and makes him lie back down with a growl.

“Will ya stop moving, you idiot!? I didn't do all that work so you could go do something stupid and hurt yourself again!”

“Who’re you callin’ an idiot, idiot?”

Inuyasha lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're so damn stubborn."

Kouga scoffs. "Oh, really? That's rich, comin' from you. You're the definition of stubborn."

“Shut up and get some damn rest. Ginta’s fine and Chizue’s already taking care of Hakkaku and the others. They’re okay, now you need to stop bein’ stupid and annoying and take care of yourself,” Kouga lays back down after a moment, and Inuyasha shuts his eyes, though he remains alert in case Kouga decides to try and get up again. “Sleep.”

There’s a moment of silence, in which Inuyasha thinks that Kouga actually listened to him, and then after a sigh—

“You’re the worst medic ever. At least I have somethin’ nice to look at while you’re treatin’ me,” It’s said in a low mutter so Inuyasha’s sure that Kouga hadn’t meant for him to hear it, but that doesn’t stop his face from involuntarily heating up with a blush.

He hears Kouga laugh, and immediately realizes that Kouga had definitely wanted him to hear that after all.

Inuyasha’s not too sure how much time passes while he’s sitting with Kouga, but judging from the lack of sound coming from the rest of the den, he figures that the tribe had decided to turn in early for the night as a result of what happened to the scouting patrol. He finds the rare silence unsettling.

“You don't have to stay up, y'know."

Inuyasha opens his eyes to look at Kouga, who's staring right back.

“Tch, I'm not staying up for you, fleabag,” He retorts, though he knows he's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince the wolf demon. "I'm just not tired. Go back to sleep so I can have some peace and quiet again." Of course, Inuyasha doesn’t really want Kouga to go back to sleep. He’s pretty sure Kouga knows this, too.

Kouga smirks, mischievous and teasing. "I didn't say anything about you stayin' up for me," He shuts his eyes. "But it’s good to know that you’re worried ‘bout me.”

Inuyasha averts his gaze. “...’course I’m worried.”

“Oh, are you?”

“If you die, who else is gonna keep the rest of the pack from chasin’ me outta here?”

“Ah, there he is. I was just about t’ask who you were and where the real Inuyasha was,” Kouga grins. “—and c’mon, the tribe is warming up to you, Chizue, Ginta and Hakkaku already really like you. Not to the mention the younger wolves,” He chuckles, though it’s more of a light wheezing sound. “Didn’t know you had such a way with kids.”

“Ginta and Hakkaku don’t count. They’d light their asses on fire if ya told ‘em to,” Kouga laughs and Inuyasha can’t help but chuckle. “—and those brats… no matter what I do and what I tell ‘em, they won’t stop followin’ me around.”

“They like your stories, I think.”

He likes telling them stories too, and though he’s never admitted it— and doesn’t think he will anytime soon— he’s pretty sure Kouga knows.

For the hundredth time, he realizes that there are lots of things Kouga just knows about Inuyasha. Things about him as well as things important to him that Kouga’s paid attention to and kept in his mind because he thinks they’re significant enough to remember.

Also for the hundredth time, this realization makes his heart pound faster in an almost dizzying blend of awe and happiness that he masks with a grunt.

“Chizue… the old hag’s fine, I guess. Anyone that can keep you in line is more than okay in my book.”

“That she does,” Kouga says, and Inuyasha can hear the affection in his voice as he talks about her. “Don’t let her hear you call her a hag, though. Old woman is scarier than anything when she’s mad. She may be a healer, but she can become deadly in the blink of an eye.”

Inuyasha knows. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of Chizue’s wrath, but he’s witnessed it enough to know that he never wants to be.

“Anyway, give it some time or whatever, they’ll get used to ya. If they don’t, then they’ll just have to get over it. Anyone tries to chase you out, they’ll have to get through me first.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the smile on his face that forms as a result of that statement.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, and they’d have to get through Ginta and Hakkaku and Chizue too,” Kouga says, eyes bright with mirth. “—and no one wants to do that.” Inuyasha chuckles, almost missing the way Kouga’s eyes soften. “So they’re just gonna have to deal if they don’t want an angry tribe healer on their hands.”

“Yeah, ‘cause out of all you, Chizue’s the only real threat.” Kouga laughs and gives Inuyasha a playful nudge.

There’s a comfortable silence, and Inuyasha closes his eyes, focusing on the comforting sounds of the waterfall. After a while, thinking Kouga’s fallen asleep, he opens his eyes to make sure, only to see Kouga looking straight at him, a dopey grin on his face. He mutters a curse when he feels his face flush at the attention.

Then, a vivid image of what Kouga had looked like when they’d first brought him in, bloody and barely breathing, flashes in his mind and he knows he won’t be able to keep himself from not bringing it up tonight.

“Kouga, don't be so damn reckless next time. You’re the leader and all that, I get it, but ya can’t just do that,” There’s a fear inside him that’s almost suffocating. “You can’t just— you—” He takes a shaky breath, trying to remain composed.

“Hey.”

Inuyasha blinks and looks into warm blue eyes at Kouga’s voice, then at the hand on his knee.

“Look, I’m okay,” Kouga murmurs, a hint of fondness in his tone. “I’m all patched up and I’m already feelin’ better. Go to sleep, Inuyasha.” He pats the space next to him, closing his eyes. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “Seriously though, your creepy staring is starting to freak me the hell out. Won’t be able to get a wink of sleep with you lookin’ at me like that.”

“I wasn’t starin’,” Inuyasha protests half-heartedly, already feeling himself become calmer. The warmth of Kouga’s hand is an anchor, and he lets himself be grounded. He lays down on the pile of furs, and settles close to Kouga, mindful of his wound. “Next time, I'm going with you so you don't get yourself into trouble. Figures you can’t do anything without me—“

“Sleep,” Koga mumbles. .

“‘M not tired,” Inuyasha says, then he yawns, and he doesn’t have to look at Kouga to know that he’s smirking. “Jerk.”

Inuyasha falls asleep a little while later, lulled by the sound of Kouga’s steady snores and his familiar scent, and for the hundredth time, it feels like he’s coming home.

#YAYYY THE FIC IS FINALLY POSTED WHEW CHILE #it took me AGES to figure out a title #and ofc i post it when no one's awake haha....#inukog #inuyasha #my fics #txt #lmk what y'all think!#HIGHKEY nervous....

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shijiujun · 6 years ago

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History3 Ep 8 Summary - SHAO FEI ADMITS HE LIKES TANG YI

my obsession with tangfei is getting a little ridiculous - i’m writing this as the episode live streams AND OKAY IT JUST ENDED!!!!

*JUST A WARNING GUYS IT’S ONLY 20 MINUTES FOR TODAY’S EPISODE AND WHAT THE HELL THEY KEEP DOING THIS AND ENDING THE SCENE PREMATURELY and today’s was ridiculously short in feel especially - and the scenes just keep changing prematurely as well and the development is a bit too fast? but the good thing is the plot actually moved in terms of everyone’s relationships and also the bad guy’s plots - which we haven’t seen much of until now

i have no idea, let me know when you guys watch it and have any theories! i’ll explain some of mine later below!

also an update on the chinese audience again - they’ve totally adopted shao fei as their son it’s hilarious some of the golden comments translated are (they mean their comments lovingly despite the exclamation marks LOLOL):

“DON’T HURT MY SON!”

“LET GO OF MY SON”

“TANG YI YOU LITTLE SHIT”

“I’M GOING TO TAKE MY SON AWAY FROM YOU!”

“tang yi hasn’t apologised, i won’t be taken in by his gentleness!”

SUMMARY FOR THIS WEEK:

HAHAHAHAHA omg wow this episode is packing a punch seriously it starts off with SHAO FEI’S MANY LUGGAGES AT TANG YI’S HOUSE declaring his intention to stay

tang yi’s reaction: he stares at shao fei as he ALWAYS DOES, as if he’s wondering how this human being ever came into existence you know? and then he says: “i’ll never allow having a policeman around me 24/7″

bodydumb, ah de: “yeah boss, what would everyone say if they realised that you had a policeman following you around?!”

at this point, shao fei as always seems to be on the losing end but WOW JACK IS HELPING SHAO FEI OUT WTF GOOD JOB JACK - basically he makes the case that if shao fei moved in, they could also keep an eye on him rather than let him keep turning up at inopportune times and disrupting their plans - THIS IS A VALID ARGUMENT

Shao Fei is totally pulling the friend card again to stay at Tang yi’s house this is amazing if i got my way every time I pulled the friend card life would be so much easier - in any case, he brings up the fact that he’s “half a friend” and he’s not a policeman in this case, and friends should help each other out?

Jack is SCHEMING HE IS SCHEMING: we haven’t seen much of his scheming so far, so i’m actually quite excited to see how his covert plans all fall into place - he show shao fei a REALLY REALLY REALLY NICE GUEST ROOM

and shao fei just moves in and treats the place as his home like he has ZERO SHAME, YOU GO SHAO FEI! OWN IT! he thanks jack for helping him out earlier and jack is all: “it’s alright, i actually need your help.”

in this case - HELP COULD MEAN 2 THINGS 1. with possibly bodydumb’s alleged betrayal OR 2. with zhao zi OR 3. BOTH!

shao fei calling zhao zi then and asking him to turn up at tang yi’s place to set up a security system or check the existing one - it could be a legit reason i.e. jack knows that zhao zi is good at technology and hacking and what not, and wants him to come and scope the place out, BUT ALSO so he can spend time with zhao zi

the rest of the police team just groans because they’ve got a lot of work to do and with shao fei already stationed with tang yi so they’re one man short, and now they want zhao zi to go over as well? you’ve got to admit that police chief perhaps wanted shao fei out of the picture and OUT OF TROUBLE AS WELL and best case scenario shao fei turns up with some evidence and progress and if not WELL, AT LEAST HE’S OUT OF TROUBLE FOR A SHORT PERIOD THANK GOD HE’S SOMEONE ELSE’S PROBLEM FOR NOW

back at tang yi’s house: hong ye vs. shao fei - who is going to win? OMG hong ye is pulling out ALL THE STOPS she’s so mean - i can understand why but WOW SHE IS SO MEAN AND SHE TOTALLY WON THE ROUND IN A SENSE - she totally provokes shao fei and hits all his buttons by mentioning li zhen jie and insisting that she was a dirty cop, and that shao fei is exactly like her: “it’s no wonder, policemen’s salary is low, they can’t help but be a little greedy” and other things, and we all know how much li zhen meant to shao fei, so he literally TAKES A SINGLE FUCKING STEP AND MOVES TO KIND OF POKE OR GRAB HER-

tang yi comes in at just the right time and grabs him and SHOVES HIM VIOLENTLY backwards and shao fei legit just crashes into the chair behind him: “don’t you dare touch her!”

CAN YOU GUYS UNDERSTAND WHY THE CHINESE AUDIENCE ARE LIKE ANGRY AT TANG YI HAHAHA

anw shao fei is spitting mad, he gets up and goes: “do you know what she said?!”

tang yi: “it doesn’t matter what she said. don’t you dare touch her!”

i expected shao fei to argue, but he’s totally hurt from her comments, and then now that tang yi is indiscriminately shielding her against him - so he just stalks off, the poor bb and just as he leaves, tang yi asks hong ye: “are you okay?”

hong ye: “i’m fine, i was just a bit frightened/startled by him”

cue shao fei’s indignant expression as he hears that and stops by the door, then makes his way outside

LOOK AT BB SHAO FEI STALKING OFF LIKE AN ANGRY LITTLE DUCK

okay shao fei you need to stop being violent towards other people’s property - he is understandably angry and starts kicking the swing outside in the garden

jack is scheming guys he’s totally scheming - HAHAHAHA is he trying to push shao fei and tang yi together it’s fucking hilarious, but at the same time he’s trying to give him cryptic advice? i love it

jack: “hong ye is known to have a sharp tongue and for being blunt”

shao fei: *POUTS*

jack considers, then goes: “unless... you’re not mad at hong ye, but at our boss”

in any case, jack dispenses some good advice - that if shao fei keeps acting based on his emotions, everything they’ve worked for will be for naught

KEYCHAIN MAKES IT APPEARANCE! tang yi sees the keychain that shao fei gave him while he’s packing his desk, is reminded of what he did to shao fei (only just?!!!! tang yi how could you) and then looks out of the window to see shao fei in the garden - wow shao fei how many times you going to pace the garden

shao fei talking to himself and psyching himself up AWAY FROM THE HURT HE FEELS FROM TANG YI NOT LISTENING TO HIM: “it’s only natural that he sides hong ye. they’re so close.” - and then he returns to the house just as tang yi comes down the stairs

they stare at one another, and shao fei is still pissed so he walks AWAY from tang yi, then within like five steps he pivots on his heel and faces tang yi just as tang yi reaches shao fei

tang yi explaining himself to shao fei, I LOVE THIS RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT

anw shao fei opens his mouth and he’s about to say smth but tang yi beats him to the punch and goes: “i know what hong ye said to you. i know what li zhen means to you, and i apologize to you on her behalf”

so shao fei was angry, but because tang yi totally apologised first, he can’t be TOO ANGRY, but he scoffs: “whatever. if the person who said it doesn’t feel sorry for it, then there’s no point for a bystander to apologise”

tang yi: “she is me, and i am her. together the both of us are going to complete what boss tang entrusted to us.”

shao fei: “and this means you can just not listen to me?!!!!”

seeing that shao fei bb is still angry, tang yi does the next best thing - HE GRABS SHAO FEI BY THE ARM AND DRAGS HIM TO THE ROOM HAHAHAHA WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SCENE AND IT IS GLORIOUS

SHAO FEI’S CONFUSED FACE AS HE LANDS ON THE BED?!!!! +100000

wow tang yi how hard did you push shao fei with the bruises and tang yi’s SUPER GENTLE TONE as he tells shao fei to “lie down properly” so he can get his back okay seriously TANG YI HOW HARD DID U SHOVE SHAO FEI BB

ahahahahaha shao fei is totally enjoying the treatment, and he’s TOTALLY okay until he remembers what jack told him, that shao fei actually cares more about tang yi’s reaction than hong ye’s harsh words - and that’s when those BIG WIDE EYES OF REALISATION APPEAR - HE IS ATTRACTED TO TANG YI HE FEELS IT

bad guys turn up - chen wen hao is colluding with another person and chen wen hao is looking for detailed information in xing tian meng - the other guy wants to ally themselves with chen wen hao

OMG OKAY MAJOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT AHEAD: so no ones knows tang guo dong and tang yi’s actual relationship, not even chen wen hao or any of the other gangsters that were previously under boss tang in the same gang

apparently tang guo dong just one day turned up with both hong ye and tang yi, but he only changed tang yi’s surname to his, and let hong ye keep her one surname

chen wen hao has no idea what tang yi is to tang guo dong, and basically asks the other plump dude to show some sincerity and get him some REAL info, particularly tang yi’s EVERYTHING, including his past - chen wen hao and the other bad guy seems fixated on this details, so I’M BETTING MY MONEY ON THIS BEING A HUGE PLOT REVEAL POINT

SO THEORY IS: remember those promotional stills that SHOWED tang yi crying in shao fei’s arms? i think there’s something going on with tang yi’s birth (for e.g. he could be boss tang’s real son with li zhen?!!! OR something similar, something that he didn’t know - but it’s a theory, FEEL FREE TO SHARE MORE THEORIES!!!)

FAVOURITE SCENE OF THE EPISODE: CAR SCENE - tang yi is being chauffeured to the company by ah de, and shao fei is sitting right there next to him and totally STARING AT HIM

TANG YI TOTALLY FEELS HIS GAZE AND LOOKS UP AND SHAO FEI LOOKS AWAY AFTER BEING CAUGHT?! SHAO FEI PLEASE

tang yi, exasperated but clearly quite fond of shao fei: “what are you doing?”

and wow shao fei that was a lousy excuse: “oh! just exploring the car features. wow, does this run on electricity? your car is totally luxury-grade” - and then proceeds to press every button near him!!!!! SHAO FEI GET A GRIP!!!

ah de from the front: “alright you country bumpkin, don’t open the roof window, it’s raining.”

shao fei: “who the fuck you calling a country bumpkin?!!!”

and then tang yi WHO IS JUST LOOKING AT SHAO FEI FIDGET AND MOVE AND RUN HIS MOUTH OFF SO, SO FONDLY, WITH SO MUCH PATIENCE, he asks: “really, what are you doing?”

shao fei, another lame answer that is INCONSISTENT WITH HIS PREVIOUS ANSWERS: “nothing. i’m just looking to see if you’ve got some drinks in here.”

TO WHICH, tang yi helpfully opens the compartment between their seats and comes up with idk is that sparkling water? he is about to pass it to shao fei, and then he-

OMGGGGGG TANG YI HE THEN SO HELPFULLY, SO DOTINGLY, OPENS THE BOTTLE FOR SHAO FEI, AND PASSES IT TO HIM

CUE SHAO FEI’S SATISFIED SMILE

they arrive at the company lobby and tang yi moves into the elevator first, then shao fei wants to follow but he can’t because AH DE AKA BODYDUMB IS A COCKBLOCKER - he refuses to let shao fei go in

AND OMGGG ANDY - ANDY with his lazy outfit but looking fine as hell, he turns up and obviously they arranged to meet, tang yi asks him to come in and he does, leaving bodydumb and shao fei fighting outside of the elevator - TANG YI WHERE DID ALL THE GENTLENESS GO?!!

and fucking FINALLY - we get a scene where shao fei properly kicks ass and HERE IT IS GUYS THE PIVOTAL POINT OF THIS

bodydumb: “don’t think i don’t know what you’re doing! you’re using this as an excuse. i see your eyes when you look at the boss, it disgusts me!”

AND THEY EXCHANGED BLOWS

AND THEN SHAO FEI BABY OVERPOWERS BODYDUMB AND SAYS: “yes, so what if i like tang yi? it’s none of anyone’s business. if you have time to spread rumors about me, you might as well use the time to train your moves!”

YASSSSSS OMG SHAO FEI BB - BURN!

so shao fei bypasses bodydumb who’s lying in pain on the ground, into the lift, and he makes it upstairs (and somehow he knows which floor it’s on?)

anw tang yi and andy are having a meeting - THANK GOD FOR ANDY’S COMPETENCE - he has intel for tang yi, he knows that chen wen hao met someone the night before, and he has found out who attacked and kidnapped him previously

andy slides a piece of paper with maybe a person’s name on it over the table to tang yi, tang yi grabs it, but andy stops him and warns him: “you’re not going to be happy when you find out who it is.”

tang yi is all, okay, but imma do it anyway

he reads it, and THEORY: maybe it’s bodydumb’s name?! - anw he’s super angry and he flings the paper to the ground - we don’t get to see whose name it is, tang yi just keeps repeating that he didn’t think it was him

andy then is all: “awww, don��t be angry, relax” - and he’s so touchy with tang yi ARE YOU SURE YOU GUYS DIDN’T SLEEP TGT BEFORE and massages tang yi’s temples

tang yi is totally into it and he actually relaxes and closes his eyes

which brings me to the point of shao fei being outside the office, and he can see the vague figures of andy and tang yi standing so close to each other

AND THIS IS HILARIOUS - BODYDUMB AKA AH DE arrives, and before he can grab shao fei, shao fei grabs him, silences him and goes: “LET’S GET RID OF OUR COMMON ENEMY FIRST BEFORE SETTLING OUR SHIT” AHAHAHAHAHA BODYDUMB AND SHAO FEI ARE NOW ALLIES BECAUSE THEY ARE JELLY OF ANDY?

and then they just end it there we don’t get the scene where shao fei bursts in and interrupts whatever they were doing

some thoughts:

when is the exact OMG moment when shao fei realises he likes tang yi? i think he realises he’s attracted to him during the massage scene, but how did that go to declaring that he likes tang yi to bodydumb?

tang yi why you keep blowing hot and cold?!

“common enemy” i.e. andy - does shao fei know that bodydumb likes tang yi? this still hasn’t been really confirmed, and how did shao fei know?!

I LOVE GENTLE TANG YI TO SHAO FEI - BOTTLE OPENING SCENE IS A TREASURE

tang yi’s background - any theories on this?

#history 3: 圈套 #history3圈套 #history 3: trapped #history3: trap #history3 spoilers

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