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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Light on the Door (ao3) (aka WWX in the Nie sect); tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Wei Wuxian woke all at once when someone dropped something onto the floor, but he kept his body relaxed and his eyes closed. It was only when the smashing sound was followed by a very familiar muttering – “Shit, shit, shit, da-ge’s going to kill me!” – that he relaxed.

“How expensive is it that you think he would care?” he asked, opening his eyes and frowning when he found himself somewhere unfamiliar.

Nie Huaisang, who had been standing in the middle of the room and looking at the shards of a (admittedly very expensive looking) broken teapot with some dismay, promptly forgot all about the teapot and dashed over to him. “Shixiong! You’re awake!”

“You say that like it’s a surprise,” Wei Wuxian said, reaching up to rub his head. “Am I – wait, is this Jiang sect grounds? How’d we get to the Lotus Pier, of all places?”

The last he remembered, he and Lan Wangji had remained behind in the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter, distracting it while the others went out through the underwater exit, which had closed up when the Xuanwu had thrashed around. After a few days, when inedia would no longer help them and they knew their strength would begin to decrease, they had decided to fight it, and then…

“Is Lan Zhan all right?” he asked, abruptly concerned. “What happened to him? Did he –”

“He’s fine, you big baby,” Nie Huaisang said, throwing himself down on the bed next to him and promptly snuggling in for a hug. He had zero grounds to call anyone else a big baby. “He woke up two days ago and already left for the Cloud Recesses. He didn’t want to worry them any longer, and they need him, what with his brother still being missing.”

Wei Wuxian spared a moment’s thought for Lan Xichen, who was very nice and also a good friend of Nie Mingjue’s in addition to being Lan Wangji’s precious older brother, but reminded himself that there was no point in worrying when it wouldn’t do any good. That settled, he complained, “Oh, that’s rude! He left before making sure I woke up?”

“Oh, you woke up yesterday before he headed out,” Nie Huaisang said breezily. “You were sleep-drunk as anything, but you were awake and saying something about musical masterpieces. Possibly you might have started to say something about kissing, but tragically I was forced to gag you for your own health before Lan Wangji disintegrated from embarrassment.”

Wei Wuxian put his head in his hands. “…and so he left.”

“And so he left,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “Don’t worry, he left you a nice long letter to read when you feel up to it – and when I decide to give it to you.”

“Cruel.”

“Caring! You must think of your health, shixiong.”

“Shixiong this, shixiong that,” Wei Wuxian teased. “Were you worried about me?”

Nie Huaisang glared death at him. “Of course I was! Do you know what you put me and Jiang Cheng through?! We left you in a cave with that thing, we got ambushed by the Wen sect the second we emerged –”

“You did? Are you all right?!”

“Shut up, I’m fine, Jiang Cheng handled it,” Nie Huaisang said, which – fair. Wei Wuxian would have to give Jiang Cheng many relieved thank-you-for-saving-my-little-brother hugs. “We then ran for days to get someone to rescue you –”

It make sense. The Lotus Pier was closer than the Unclean Realm, and Jiang Fengmian had always been a little unreasonable about Wei Wuxian; it was a good bet to make.

Still, even if they’d travelled down from the Nightless City, they hadn’t gone that far, and the Lotus Pier was a long way away.

“Are your feet all right?” he asked.

“No! They are not! They are awful! There was blood! But not as much blood as we found all over you when we broke into the cave to find you lying there unconscious!”

Wei Wuxian resigned himself to spending the next shichen calming down Nie Huaisang from (admittedly somewhat reasonable) hysterics.

“So I’m worried about the Jiang sect,” Nie Huaisang said the second they crossed out of the Lotus Pier – by horse, since that required less from his torn-up feet.

Wei Wuxian looked at him sidelong. “And this wasn’t something you could mention while we were there? To them?”

“I’m not so stupid as to start a fight with our allies by implying that they can’t handle themselves,” Nie Huaisang said. “Even if…”

“Even if you don’t think they can?”

Nie Huaisang sighed. “It’s not that!” he protested. “They’re very capable. Extraordinarily capable, even. But Sect Leader Jiang doesn’t take things seriously enough – the way he tried to scold Jiang Cheng for lecturing you..!”

Wei Wuxian winced. He’d managed to head that off at the pass, luckily, but Jiang Cheng’s face had gotten that mulish expression of mixed envy and hurt that he hated to see, and it hadn’t cleared up until Nie Huaisang fainted in order to escape the awkward conversation. It was a trick he pulled often, one that worked on adults virtually all the time and also amused Jiang Cheng every single time.

“And he doesn’t take da-ge seriously, either,” Nie Huaisang said, sounding as if that were the worst possible crime imaginable. Wei Wuxian understood his feelings. “Not even after the indoctrination camp…I just don’t know if he’ll take the steps he needs to in time.”

“You’re right,” Wei Wuxian said regretfully. “Uncle Jiang won’t want to think about it, so he won’t, but that won’t stop the war from coming…Wait, hold up. You think the Wen sect would come here? Why?”

“I mean, it’s the logical next step to quash another one of the Great Sects,” Nie Huaisang said. “Also, remember that time I fainted from the heat and they took me inside the guardroom? I looked at some of their papers; they were definitely planning on a siege.”

“But why here?” Wei Wuxian asked, deciding to reserve comments on Nie Huaisang’s unexpected foray into espionage to a time when he could appropriately lose his mind over it, preferably with Nie Mingjue in the vicinity to add to the effect. “Why the Lotus Pier? Jiang Cheng wasn’t involved with sticking it to Wen Chao; that was Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan, and then after that it was mostly me. No Jiang sect at all!”

“He helped later,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “Anyway, where else would they go? They attacked the Cloud Recesses once already, Lanling Jin is so slimy and double-dealing that they might as well count as a Wen ally, and if you had to pick between attacking the Lotus Pier or the Unclean Realm, between wishy-washy old Sect Leader Jiang or da-ge, who’s been preparing for war since before you joined us, which would you pick?”

“Well, shit,” Wei Wuxian said, because Nie Huaisang wasn’t wrong at all. Nor was he wrong to keep this from Jiang Fengmian, who would probably just pat them on the head indulgently before dismissing them. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Shopping,” Nie Huaisang declared.

Wei Wuxian knew his little brother too well. He started grinning. “Just a couple of young masters going on a shopping trip? With a nice, small retinue?”

“We could hardly be expected to travel with anything less,” Nie Huaisang agreed, grinning back. “Especially with there being both of us, heir and spare! It would be disgraceful to send us out with anything less than at least a squad of Nie culivators. We could stay in Yunping, maybe? That’s not far.”

“Yunping? There’s nothing in Yunping.”

“Not recently, no,” Nie Huaisang said, and shrugged when Wei Wuxian shot him an inquisitive glance. “Personnel issue, someone da-ge met recently…not a big deal. I’m just curious about him, that’s all. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

“I love how you just decide these things and then pretend that I have some input into how things are going to go before doing what you want anyway,” Wei Wuxian remarked. “I take it that you’ve contacted da-ge already, then?”

“Of course! Sent him a letter first thing once we arrived at the Lotus Pier. Are we going?”

“Yes, fine,” Wei Wuxian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going, we’re going.”

“So, I think we can all agree that that went badly,” Nie Huaisang said. “Can we all agree on that?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng said. His impression of being above it all was somewhat ruined by the tears still streaming down his face and the way he wouldn’t stop hugging them both intermittently.

“Listen, it could have gone worse,” Wei Wuxian said placatingly. “Right? Could have gone much, much worse. At least Uncle Jiang and Madame Yu made it out, and they’ll go crazy trying to find us.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, and sniffed, rubbing his nose. “Yeah. That’s true. Thanks.”

Even with the best river-watching intentions in the world, the attack had come so quickly that they’d only shown up midway through the assault on the Lotus Pier, just in time to find Jiang Cheng tied up in Zidian and floating downriver, a sure sign that Madame Yu had given up all hope of maintaining a defense, and naturally they’d grabbed him and rushed in to help her.

A single moment of surprise had been all she’d needed to finish Wen Zhuliu.

Unfortunately, even two full squadrons of Nie sect cultivators – Nie Mingjue hadn’t stinted – couldn’t change the end result, not against the massed forces the Wen sect had brought with them, not even if they sold their lives into the bargain. It was only enough to hold them off for a little while.

At Wei Wuxian’s order, they had gone back in again and again, getting as many Jiang sect disciples out as they could. It’d been a good plan.

Getting captured hadn’t been part of the plan.

Getting thrown into the Burial Mounds was definitely not part of the plan.

Fucking Wen Chao. Just because his smarmy stupid core-melting servant got killed and he didn’t want to risk them returning as ghosts…

“Somehow, the possibility of it being worse doesn’t actually make me feel better,” Nie Huaisang said, scowling. He had the weakest core out of all three of them, so they’d given him the one blanket they’d managed to smuggle along with them – though technically, that had been Wen Ning who’d done the smuggling, actually, a Wen disciple that Wei Wuxian had befriended in the archery contest.

He’d apparently remained very sympathetic despite the war.

It would’ve been pretty funny, if anyone had been in the mood to laugh: Wen Ning had arrived to the Lotus Pier late in a panic, nominally to provide medical services, although Wen Chao had implied in a snarl that it was actually to claim credit for helping. He had stuttered his way through excuses and apologies, offered to go start work right away, and then promptly beelined straight for the room where they’d been trapped, sneaking them a qiankun pouch with a few supplies in hopes that they could use it when they escaped.

He hadn’t known that they were bound for the Burial Mounds at that time, of course.

Maybe he’d have included some weapons they could use to fly out of here if he had.

Wei Wuxian had whispered to him “Find a way to tell Sect Leader Nie,” as they’d been dragged away after hearing Wen Chao declare that he was going to dispose of them where they’d never escape, and he could only hope that between that avenue and the Jiang that they would be found soon.

Ideally very soon.

They were running out of protective talismans, and night was approaching.

“Still could be worse,” Wei Wuxian said, thinking to himself that if Wen Zhuliu hadn’t been garroted by Zidian they might have found their way here without even their golden cores. Definitely worse. “Okay. So. I have – an idea.”

“Oh no,” Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang chorused.

“…you two are so supportive.”

“It’s going to be a dumb idea,” Nie Huaisang said. “We can tell. Your tone of voice tells us.”

“He’s not wrong,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s going to be dumb and self-sacrificing.”

“Dumb, self-sacrificing and with a less than fifty percent chance of –”

“Must you throw all my past failures in my face?” Wei Wuxian said mournfully.

“Yes,” they both said.

“…fine. I’m still going to do it.”

“We never doubted that for a moment,” Nie Huaisang said. “Now tell us what heart failure we’re going to be dying of today.”

“Well…” Wei Wuxian said.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” Wei Wuxian announced. “It may be the resentful energy going to my head.”

“Nooooo,” Jiang Cheng said. “You think?”

“Could be the reduced rations and extended inedia,” Nie Huaisang said, looking very tragic. “Or maybe these sad excuses for potatoes we’ve been picking.”

“I am never eating wild-grown potatoes ever again in my life,” Wei Wuxian agreed fervently. “But also, no, seriously, I think I’m hallucinating, which we should write down as a possible side-effect of demonic cultivation.”

Jiang Cheng groaned from where he was lying on his back and staring up into the ever-clouded sky above the Burial Mounds. He’d gotten tired of the writing-things-down portion of the experimentation process early on, especially when they’d had to carefully unbind the one book Wen Ning had (rather inexplicably, but helpfully) shoved into the bag for them in order to get enough paper to do it after they’d run out of space on Nie Huaisang’s fans.

“We have to keep notes!” Wei Wuxian insisted.

“Fine, fine,” Nie Huaisang said. “What are you hallucinating?”

“Suibian,” Wei Wuxian said. “Flying right at me. From the northwest, if that’s relevant.”

“It is extremely relevant, actually,” Jiang Cheng said, sitting up. “Because it’s not a hallucination if I see it, too.”

Jiang Cheng was their control group, insofar as they could have a control when they were all stuck here being slowly consumed by the Burial Mounds. He and Wei Wuxian were about evenly matched in cultivation strength, so it only made sense for one of them to try demonic cultivation and the other not, and then Nie Huaisang had also started doing it, over Wei Wuxian’s protests, when they’d realized that they needed two people for some of the arrays Wei Wuxian invented.

So if he was seeing things as well, that either meant that the Burial Mounds were affecting them faster than expected, or else –

“Wait, you can see Suibian too?” Wei Wuxian jumped up to his feet. “Suibian! Suibian! Over here!”

“Wait,” Nie Huaisang said. “We don’t know how Suibian will react to demonic cultivation –”

Oblong meat boy! Suibian shouted in Wei Wuxian’s brain across their bond, familiar and perfect as always, descending like a whistling arrow. You left me alone! With evil people!

Wei Wuxian leapt up as high as he could and wrapped his arms around his saber. “I’m so glad to see you, you jackass of a saber!”

Apology accepted.

“Is he talking to his saber?” Jiang Cheng murmured to Nie Huaisang, who nodded. “I know he told us about the whole Nie sect cultivation thing - which I understand I shouldn’t know about, but whatever - but I’ve got to say, it’s kind of weird to see it happening out loud.”

“You think that’s weird? You should see my brother and Baxia.”

“How did you get out?” Wei Wuxian asked, ignoring them both.

Baxia tore open the wall where we were being kept, Suibian said, which probably meant that the war was going well and also that Nie Mingjue was on the warpath and very likely that Wen Ning had not managed to deliver the intended message, which would explain the delay in anyone finding them. Baxia’s master gave me energy and told me to go find you, while he followed behind.

“Da-ge’s coming!” Wei Wuxian shouted, and Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang dropped their supercilious commentator façade in order to cheer.

Hey, jerkface master. Why do you feel funny?

“…uh, about that…”

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #light on the door

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

The Man Comes Around

Over at the Wen Indoctrination Tower, which seems to exist just to torture Lan Wangji with stair climbing, Lan Wangji is climbing the stairs. Too bad his cultivation level is too low to be able to just jump up. At least this time his leg isn't broken.

This is the first vengeful stair-climb in the show, but not the last. (Parallel gifset here).

The Wen guards are stationed all the way at the pinnacle of this tower to guard...what? Why are they not at the bottom of the stairs? What is this location for, actually? This is further up the stairs than the scenes with the indoctrination lectures. Anyway, it's been three months since Wen Chao threw Wei Wuxian into the burial mounds, so naturally these guards are talking about that exact thing as Lan Wangji approaches.

Lan Wangji knocks them all down with a blast from his guqin. Did you know his guqin is named Wangji, by the way? It is. A guy who is that lazy about naming his quqin maybe shouldn't feel so superior to a guy who named his sword "whatever."

(I'm suddenly remembering a plush lamb I had as a child, whose eyes were orange, that I named "orange eyes.") (I, however, was three. And I had a lot of plush lambs. Little ones. Grown-ups found it hilarious to give them to me.) (Native speakers of English can probably guess what OP's real name is. Hint: it rhymes with Canary.) (Everybody else: there is a kid's rhyming song called Mary Had A Little Lamb. OP's name is Mary.)

Anyhoo, after Lan Wangji is finally finished with his dramatic entrance, Jiang Cheng comes flying in from wherever he's been hovering for the past 20 minutes of stair time. A bunch of Lan sidekicks also flood into the frame from wherever they were hiding during the wide shots of LWJ on the staircase.

In case you hope that CQL Lan Wangji is as much of a top (offscreen) as MZDS Lan Wangji is (on the page), here's a gif for you.

(more after the cut)

He uses the patented Lan string attack to choke this guard. Lan Wangji doesn't have to hold a guqin string in his hands to choke someone with it. He doesn't even have to tighten it, judging by how absurdly not-tight this string is.

Or maybe this guy is choking on the chin strap of his helmet. This is exactly how OP's son reacts when OP sticks a bike helmet on him. (Note: it's GOOD that they are following choking safety protocols on set. Very good. However, they could have just left the string out and pretended, and it would look better, in this instance)

The Wen guard tells Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng about the whole "thrown into the burial mounds" thing. Team Let's Find Wei Wuxian is not happy to hear this.

A Vengeful Ghost

Meanwhile, in some Wen office somewhere? Where the hell is this? Yiling, we get an ominous shot of the rooftops where Wei Wuxian is lurking and then we see Wang Lingjiao trying to sleep and having a nightmare.

Wang Lingjiao has gone to sleep with a full face of makeup on instead of washing her face before bed. She has forgotten the important maxim, Go To Sleep Pretty, Wake Up Zitty.

She leaps out of bed to go cling to Wen Chao and freak out about Wei Wuxian's ghost. Wen Chao is trying to read the sports section and has clearly had enough of this crap. This has presumably been going on for a little while now.

Wang Lingjiao is in a new outfit, which is...pajamas? It has the feel of a 1930's French peignoir set, and it's much more softly colored than her usual bright red-purple combo. If this is her pajamas is it weird that her day clothes are a lot more aggressively sexy-looking than her nightgown? A freak in the streets but a lady in the sheets.

Wen Chao rants about the Sunshot Campaign and talks some smack about Wen Qing, and then leaves to go to the bar and watch the game with Wen Zhuliu. After he leaves Wang Lingjiao freaks out for a bit and then looks at the notice he was reading.

The notice basically says that the Sunshot Campaign is kicking their ass. She should be proud for inspiring the name of the campaign with that kite-shooting bullshit she made up at Lotus Pier. Before slaughtering everyone.

No Matter What You Do, I Only Want To Be With You

Back at the Indoctrination Tower, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are having feelings about Wei Wuxian. Jiang Chang does all the talking but Lan Wangji's thoughts are louder because a sad violin is playing Wangxian while they talk.

Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji about their meetup plan and says he thought WWX had dumped him to go find Lan Wangji in Lanling. Lan Wangji telepathically indicates that this didn’t happen. This means two things: 1. Lan Wangji has been hanging out in Lanling, where Jiang Yanli has been hanging out, so maybe they have bonded over the past 3 months and 2. This is the first time Jiang Cheng has talked to Lan Wangji since Wei Wuxian disappeared.

Much as my fic-loving heart would like to believe these two spent three months on the road together looking for Wei Wuxian, in fact they are both important high-level fighters in an active military campaign, and Lan Wangji was busy taking back the Cloud Recesses while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were having elective surgery. They probably both were assigned to the "Indoctrination Bureau" mission and this is the first chance they've had to talk about Wei Wuxian.

Is it heartbreaking that, while Wei Wuxian was helplessly getting his ass beat because he'd sacrificed his golden core for Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng believed Wei Wuxian had abandoned him for Lan Wangji? Yes. Yes it is.

For some reason Jiang Cheng is hesitant to believe that Wei Wuxian really was thrown into the Burial Mounds. I mean, I understand not wanting to believe Wei Wuxian is dead, but given that Wen Chao is the dude who oversaw the massacre of all of the people at Lotus Pier, including kids, why would Jiang Cheng think his guards are wrong? Maybe he just feels like Wei Wuxian is invincible, since so far he kinda has been.

The Sword is Mightier Than Not Having a Sword

While they've been chatting, the Lan disciples have found their swords. One disciple is holding Bichen (LWJ's sword), Sandu (JC's sword), and OP consults wiki Suihua (Jin Zixuan's sword). Another disciple is holding Subian (WWX's sword).

Jiang Cheng grabs Sandu while the Lan disciples, who apparently know their gongzi’s heart, offer Wei Wuxian's sword to Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji takes Subian (Bichen: What am I, chopped watercress?) and immediately tries to draw it. Like you don't do. It's sealed itself, which apparently means that it's upset. It's unclear if it's upset because Wei Wuxian is dead or if it just misses him, however.

Lan Wangji definitely misses him, and wonders, out loud inside his own head, where Wei Wuxian is. Um, he's in the Burial Mounds, dude, they just told you. Well, I guess he's actually in Yiling proper at this point, haunting Wang Lingjiao as he promised her he would.

Twa Corbies

The scene shifts to Qinghe, where there are about 12 dead bodies lying around, which in this show means that there are really a few hundred. In fact, per Jiang Yanli's statement "nothing can be seen but corpses covering the plains." The camera can't see most of them, is all.

Wen Xu's head is hanging in the doorway, and the Jins talk about how Nie Mingjue killed him, cutting his head off with just one swing. Is this foreshadowing anything, like perhaps someone else's head being cut off by Baxia in just one swing? Nope, definitely not.

A couple of crows are perched on a body, totally not eating it, but Jin Zixuan gallantly zaps them with a talisman to make them fly away anyway. It might be noteworthy that nobody used to use talismans but gradually more and more people are using them - particularly people who have spent time with Wei Wuxian.

With mony a lock of his golden hair-o, we’ll theek our nest when it grows bare-o

Asshole cousin Jin Zixun says “scavenger rights,” so Jin Zixuan puts him in charge of collecting all the bodies.

Since OP just finished watching fur-collar-happy Nirvana in Fire, these crows look to me like they are wearing luxurious fur collars. Where OP lives, crows are not this fancy.

A Romantic Corpse-Filled Interlude

Disaster het Jin Zixuan goes to help Jiang Yanli get out of the carriage but she rejects his hand just like he rejected hers back in Gusu.

Jiang Yanli is extremely shocked when she sees Wen Xu's severed head, and turns away in horror, preferring to calmly rest her eyes on dozens of crow-pecked corpses.

Jin Zixuan tries to comfort her and she tells him she'll be going now, thanks for the hospitality. He tries to say that he has to personally deliver her to a representative of the patriarchy one of her brothers, but then one of her brothers shows up.

Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng arrive, having presumably flown there from Qishan. They show that they are flying by blowing a fan on the ground and then jumping off of a box, which is better than the effects we were subjected to earlier in the episode.

Jiang Cheng rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Jiang Yanli, while Lan Wangji rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Wen Xu’s severed head. Jin Zixuan kind of spoils it for him by talking about Wei Wuxian's absence while Lan Wangji is trying to have a moment.

The whole time Jin Zixuan is talking to him, Lan Wangji appears to be gazing into the middle distance but in fact he is staring at Wen Xu's severed head. This is the guy who led the burning of Cloud Recesses, killed a bunch of disciples, and personally broke Lan Wangji's leg. Lan Wangji stares at his head for more than a full minute before glancing away.

Jiang Yanli hasn't seen Jiang Cheng since they were in Wen Qing's clinic, and she is happy he's recovered. When she asks about Wei Wuxian he gives her the bad news in the classic Jiang fashion, which is to say nothing, but look stricken until your interlocutor figures out that something is horribly wrong, but not precisely what.

Four Angry Men

Inside the fortress, Nie Mingjue is slapping the table and saying, this bad boy can hold so much resentment and vengeance. They're having a mini war council and we're getting a better sense of Nie Mingjue's anger management problem. Note for those who don't get the gif reference: this is a The Godfather joke, not a sex joke, but it can be both, if you like.

We're also getting a little more info about Baxia, who seems to be eager to go fight even without anyone wielding it. (Her? Him? Them? do swords have gender? I don't know). Well done, person below the camera frame whose job is to rattle Baxia in a menacing manner.

They've got a giant model of the battle targets, which looks like it was carved out of real rock (I mean, as much as any of the rocks on this show look like real rocks) and has its own table and everything, decorated in Nie colors. Where was this before they took Qinghe back? Has Nie Mingjue been traveling with it?

Anyway, I'm assuming Nie Huaisang made it, because it's pretty nice. Hopefully they will keep it around for tabletop gaming after the war is over.

Jiang Cheng is upset but is using his anger management mantra to help control his temper while Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji talk with Nie Mingjue.

Lan Wangji talks by leaning forward meaningfully, mostly not by using any words, but he asks for a battle assignment and Jiang Cheng immediately joins in. They both want to go find Wei Wuxian.

Nie Mingjue says Yiling is too difficult of a target, but Lan Wangji puts on his determined face, which is apparently very persuasive.

After Team Find Wei Wuxian leaves, Nie Mingjue asks Jin Zixuan to hang back so he can ask him how Meng Yao is doing. This is the first time he finds out that his ex didn't go to Lanling. Jin Zixuan tries to delicately remind him that Dad's got, like, SO many bastard children, they really don't have space for all of them. Nie Mingjue dismisses him immediately and abruptly.

Nie Mingjue might invite the straights to his party but he isn't interested in actually socializing with them.

Unconditional Soup is Only for A-Xian

Jiang Cheng can't sleep, and takes some time, now, to be sad about Wei Wuxian. Presumably he spent the prior 3 months being mad, not sad, because he really thought he just buggered off without saying anything for all that time. Which is sort of fair, but sort of not. One thing about these two bros is that for as close as they have been and as much as they love each other, their mutual understanding has some big, messy gaps.

Fortunately while he is feeling sad, Jiang Cheng does not try to draw Subian from its sheath, because wouldn't THAT be awkward.

Jiang Yanli can't sleep either, and comes to sit with him. Jiang Cheng feels bad that she's wearing herself out with worry and she says "As your sister, I have nothing to do but to worry about you." Jiang Yanli isn't one to complain but she doesn't like being inactive or helpless. In Lanling she was far from the war, but now that she's in Qinghe she'll make herself useful by tending the wounded, and later she'll help Jiang Cheng shoulder his responsibilities as he takes over the Jiang clan.

At the moment, however, all she can do is fret and make soup. As she gives Jiang Cheng a bowlful she reminds him that he absolutely has to rescue their brother who has, according to his captors, been reduced to bone dust.

With all the impossible shit that Jiang Cheng is expected to achieve - and in many instances, does achieve - he is absolutely the embodiment of the Jiang Clan's motto. Fuck his father for disrespecting him because he hadn't figured out how to do everything by the age of 16.

Definitely Not Chilling in Yiling

Back in Yiling, Wen Chao is hearing the news that the Qishan Indoctrination Bureau has fallen and that he's being called back to Nightless City. Wen Chao says he shouldn't need to go back because his dad has a new right-hand man. That new right-hand man, we will eventually learn, is Meng Yao. Wang Lingjiao, meanwhile, is hiding under the bed covers and deciding it's time to dump Wen Chao.

She locks the door and goes to pull out her jewelry box, which is locked and hidden under the bed. Maybe this is Wen Chao's jewelry box, because she acts kind of squirrely about opening it. Upon opening the jewelry box, she doesn't find jewelry but a pair of bloody fake eyeballs staring at her. ��She screams and freaks out and then the wind picks up and we hear the sound of a flute, playing the "I'm here to fuck your shit up" tune that Wei Wuxian likes.

Wang Lingjiao runs to the door and pulls down the protection talisman that's pasted above it, and pastes it directly to her chest instead, which is, we will learn in the next episode, the worst idea she could possibly have at this point.

Then she uses a poking stick to go flip the jewelry box open and finds it's full of ugly-ass jewelry again, plus an improbable number of weird round paper-mache biscuits that have been painted gold. None of this jewelry looks anything like the exquisite accessories people wear in this show, which means this stash was put together by the practical effects department, not by the costume department.

Anyway, Wang Lingjiao apparently thinks she can sell this fakeass stuff for a good price, so more power to her. But then we get a short glimpse of the menacing eyeballs again, this time on the floor, having moved out of the box and brought their little blood pool with them. Screeching ensues.

Next episode: Lady in Red!

Soundtrack: Twa Corbies, by Steeleye Span

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #the untamed meta #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #jiang cheng #wang lingjiao #jin zixuan

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blitzturtles · 4 years ago

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Title: Guilt

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (set after Golden Wind, given Jolyne's age.)

Pairing(s): JotaKak, JoKa, (Platonic) Jotaro & Jolyne, (Platonic) Kakyoin & Jolyne

Summary: Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

Notes: Involves emergency surgery, chronic pain, preteen!Jolyne, PTSD, disabled Kakyoin, and near death experiences.

Here's the thing: Jolyne hates him. It's not a secret, and it's definitely not something that she bothers to hide from him. Jotaro keeps swearing that she'll come around. Says she's just stubborn (like her father is, Kakyoin sometimes thinks with far too much affection for a man that regularly drives him up the wall). There's also the fact that she's a preteen, and kids are apparently just like that at her age.

Here's the thing: Kakyoin would hate him, too. If he were in her situation. He's petty on a good day, and a right bastard on any other. He can't imagine being in her situation. With divorced parents who, while amicable, are both ridiculously successful and constantly busy. And then waltzed in Kakyoin, right in the middle of it. Though 'waltz' is a bit of a stretch. He doesn't do anything like that with his plated spine and braced legs, but none of that matters. The real point is that he gets it.

He does his best to never push more than he has to. For the most part, he lets Jolyne do her own thing, because she's a Kujo and a Joestar. She's going to do what she wants anyways. His opinion be damned, though he does try to reason with her. Hell, he's given into bribing every once in a while. (Sometimes the means don't matter when father and daughter are both happy at the end of the day.)

In short: Jolyne hates him, and Kakyoin understands.

______

Here's the thing: Jolyne finds Kakyoin to be a nuisance. An interference. One more complication to an already complicated life, and she's only eleven. She wants her parents to get over their bullshit (language!) and figure out how to make things work. She wants Kakyoin to go away, but that doesn't mean she wants him dead. Or injured. Even if she did wish him off the end of a pier that one time. Still.

They've admittedly grown to be more friendly over time. She talks to him now, which is an improvement to the chronic cold shoulder she gave him before. Sometimes she even asks him for help, because her dad can be surprisingly useless when it comes to school work (weren't you in school when I was little?) He always seems happy to help, and he never gets as frustrated as her dad.

So maybe she doesn't hate him, but she definitely wants him to go away.

______

Kakyoin is in the middle of answering one of Jolyne's many questions when he feels something twist violently inside his abdomen. He tastes what he thinks might be bile at rist, but the metallic tinge registers, and,

Oh god, no. Not here. Please not here.

He doesn't need to know-- specifically-- what went wrong to know that he's dying. The moment the pain goes from barely tolerable to utterly agonizing is about when his brain lets him know that he's operating on borrowed time.

Kakyoin could have used that warning approximately five minutes ago. Before the pain. Before he found himself in front of Jolyne.

"I'm sorry," he tries to say, hopes the words come out audible enough for her to understand.

There are tears welling up in her eyes, and they fall soon enough. God, he's made Jolyne cry. She's so young. So unprepared. And she looks so much like Jotaro. With panic stricken eyes and fingers that grasp for something to do. Some way to fix this. It makes his chest ache beyond the twisting and shearing that his insides are already doing.

(She looks exactly like Jotaro, in the hospital after the Foundation managed to retrieve them. The way her hands fumble in the air is so much like how Jotaro had reached out desperately, trying to hold onto Kakyoin, in case those had been his last moments. Like father, like daughter, Kakyoin thinks without humor.)

His knees hit the ground first, and that shoots pain up his legs and along his hips. The rest of it ricochets and dies somewhere midway up his spine. It's a momentary distraction away from the agony that is his middle. He reaches with his fingers to press against his stomach, half expecting them to sink inward (into nothingness. There's nothing. Dio punched a hole right through him, and he's going to die.)

Jolyne is yelling. His name at first, then for her father. Again, he's reminded of the day he died. Maybe it's all been a dream. He's waking up now and the end is pressing down on him. The light will follow soon. He knows; he's seen it before.

"Please!" Jolyne begs him, "I'm sorry!"

He is, too. It's the last thing he thinks before his eyes slide shut and the darkness grabs at him greedily.

______

There's shouting and bright lights and something covering his face. He can't make out anything with his vision so blurry, but he thinks he hears Jotaro's angry voice booming what could be an entire room away.

"If you fucking put a finger on him that isn't necessary to keep him alive. I'll fuck-"

"Dad!"

Jotaro inhales sharply but nods to the surgeon one, final time, "His team is on their way. Not a goddamn finger."

______

The Speedwagon Foundation has several doctors that Kakyoin sees on a semi-regular basis. Each is a specialist in their own right, and they're the only reason Kakyoin ever made it home from Egypt. They're also the only ones that regularly work on updating all the augmented parts and maintaining the damaged remains of Kakyoin's organs. They know him inside and out. Quite literally.

The team makes it to the hospital long before Kakyoin comes out of emergency surgery, which means the whole process is extended significantly. The upside (if it could be called that) is that Kakyoin doesn't have to be put under again. The downside is that it means they'll be waiting awhile.

Jotaro does his best to be strong for Jolyne. It's his job as a parent to keep a calm façade and push his emotions to the side. She needs someone to be her reassurance.

He fails miserably.

______

The head of the Foundation team emerges some hours later, looking a little worse for wear. The stoicism past that does little for Jotaro's nerves. It tells him nothing of what to expect.

"Well?"

"He's stable," the doctor answers. "We had to take out several inches of colon this time. If I had to guess, he probably believed himself to be having a flare. He adjusted to the pain until he became necrotic." His expression shifts into an unpleased frown, "He also has two ulcers. Has he changed his diet? Or experienced any new stressors?"

Jolyne's lip quivered as she processed the doctor's words. She thought over every time she and Kakyoin had fought in recent history. Most of it being her yelling at him.

Jotaro's focus remains fixated on the doctor, "What the hell kind of pain is he still having?"

The doctor-- one Jotaro recognizes from previous visits but can't recall the name of-- sighs, "Kakyoin will only allow us to do so much to help manage his pain. I'm not his specialist in that regard, but it's at his request that he's kept on very little in terms of medication."

Jotaro knows that. He knows that Kakyoin doesn't like what stronger pain meds do to his head, but how out of control is his pain that he didn't notice that he was dying? That his body has been rotting from the inside out for an unknown amount of time?

Jolyne shifts further behind him, drawing his attention to her. It's the only thing that spares the doctor whatever response Jotaro might have otherwise formed. He turns to look at Jolyne and is startled by the tears already trailing down her round cheeks. Realization hits him then.

She's eleven, and he's an idiot.

"Hey, hey. Enough with that. He's going to be okay," Jotaro says quickly. He should have- called her mother or his mother or literally anyone. This isn't a conversation she needed to be privy to.

"It's me," Jolyne chokes the words out. Her thin arms wrap tight around her middle, and she looks close to collapsing on the ground.

Jotaro, admittedly, has no idea what she's talking about, "What's you?"

"The stress!" She practically wails.

Jotaro sighs and moves to wrap his arms around Jolyne. He tugs her in against his chest. "That- that's not the kind of stress the doctor is talking about," he glances over his shoulder to see that the man had already dismissed himself. Smart guy.

"I'm always mean to him!"

Jotaro wants to laugh. Not at all because he thinks her words-- or her suffering-- are funny, but because the whole situation feels unreal. He cards his fingers through her hair instead. It's all the comfort he feels like he can offer in a situation like this. With his own resolve teetering on the edge.

"Takes a lot more than that to take out Noriaki," he's lying through his teeth. The whole new family thing might damn well be enough stress, but he's never going to let Jolyne think this is her fault. It's not. Kakyoin is capable of making his own decisions, and being part of their family is one of them.

Jolyne crumbles against him despite the gentle words, so he scoops her up and holds her against his chest. Even at eleven, she's nothing compared to his size. He finds a nearby seat to settle into and lets her cry while he whispers promises he can't be sure he'll be able to keep. Eventually he tries distracting her with facts about dolphins, and that either has some effect, or she passes out from exhaustion. Either way, he's relieved when she snores against his neck.

______

Kakyoin comes to the waking world in a haze. His head aches and his middle feels a lot like it might have been ripped open again. He hopes that whatever happened had been a little more civil than that.

It doesn't take him long to place himself in the hospital. That's good. He isn't dead, and he's not immediately at risk of falling into enemy hands. The beeping to his left is annoying, and he can't see well enough to make anything out on the monitors around him. His vision tends to be the last thing to recover when he's been knocked out for a while. Still, he turns his head to continue to take in what he can make out.

He stops short when he sees two people in chairs on his right side, closer to the door. The familiar hat catches his attention immediately, not that he needs to be able to see at one hundred percent (or his version of it) to know that the man is none other than Jotaro. His size will always give him away before anything else.

Jotaro's head is bowed in a way that indicates he's likely asleep. He's undoubtedly been here awhile. Jolyne sits beside him with her head pressed against her father's bicep. Star Platinum is out and wrapped around both of them. He lifts his hand from Jotaro a moment to wave at him brightly, which is enough to disturb his user's sleep.

"Mm?" Jotaro grunts. He opens his eyes and sucks in a breath. He takes a moment to compose himself, which is fine. Kakyoin thinks he probably looks worse than he feels, thanks to the drugs. He would make a joke about it, but moving still hurts.

"Good to see you awake. How're you feeling?" Jotaro asks. He doesn't move from his spot, if only to avoid waking up Jolyne, but that intense gaze is evaluating all the same.

Kakyoin gives a noncommittal answer, and Jotaro snorts, "That's what I thought you'd say. Good thing we have this." He reaches for the little controller on the side of Kakyoin's bed. He presses the red button before Kakyoin can protest.

The glare he shoots Jotaro is relatively short-lived, and it's hard to be mad when Jotaro looks so damn triumphant, even if it's about something that Kakyoin has complicated feelings about. He decides to let him have this one, considering the fact that he's pretty sure he gave them all one nightmarish scare.

"I'm sorry," he says after a while, head lulling back against the pillows. His red hair spreads out all around. It's longer now than it ever has been, but he hasn't felt the need to cut it beyond a simple trim in years. It doesn't matter, but it gives himself something to focus on rather than the gnawing guilt.

"Don't be."

"I- god, I never meant-"

"Kakyoin."

"If I had known, I would have left the room or-"

"Kak-"

"She was so afraid. And she-"

"Noriaki," Jotaro snaps more than says the name, but his eyes are soft. "You aren't the only one that made her cry in the last few hours, so you're not special." That's not true. Kakyoin is incredibly special, but he needs to make some kind of light-hearted comment before he starts crying. Nobody needs to see that.

"Still," Kakyoin mumbles, but he doesn't continue.

Jotaro reaches out with Star, who clasps his large hand over one of Kakyoin's. He wants to lean forward himself, but he doesn't want to wake Jolyne up. Not yet.

Kakyoin turns his palm up to tangle his fingers together with Star's. He brushes his thumb over the stand's, knowing Jotaro can feel it reflected on his skin.

"I really thought it was a flare," he says after a while, because he feels like he owes some sort of explanation after everything.

"Nori, I really can't tell you how much I don't give a damn about that," Jotaro frowns at his own words, "No, I mean- I care, but- fuck." He scrubs his hand over his face a few times before trying again, "You don't have to feel guilty for this shit, okay? I should have noticed you were in pain."

Kakyoin shakes his head. He squeezes Star's hand to make sure Jotaro's listening when he speaks, "It's not your fault. I deal with this pain all the time. It just- at first it felt like a flare, but I guess I got used to it." And every time the pain worsened, he acclimated until it had nearly killed him.

Jotaro doesn’t get a chance to respond before Jolyne is rustling against him. She opens her eyes a crack and reaches up to wipe at them with her fists. “Dad?”

“Right here,” Jotaro grunts in response. He squeezes her shoulder gently, then retracts his arm to give her space to stretch out. “Kakyoin is awake.”

He watches the fog clear from her eyes. They widen as she processes his words, and her attention immediately turns to the redhead, who waves meekly at her.

“Jolyne, I’m- oof!”

Star quickly gets his hands around Jolyne’s waist, suspending her in the air enough to keep her weight from falling too heavily onto Kakyoin. He lets her down carefully, and the youngest Kujo looks sheepish for her overreaction.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” Kakyoin says, curling an arm around her loosely in return. He hadn’t expected to be nearly tackled upon awakening. That went doubly so when considering Jolyne as a factor. She’s never hugged him before. Trauma is funny in that way; something he knows from first hand experience.

Jotaro steps up behind her and offers a small smile to Kakyoin, “We’re glad you’re alright.”

“Yeah!” Jolyne echoes, “You scared the shit out of us!”

“Jolyne,” Jotaro’s voice is gruff. An attempt at a warning that falls short. The way his lips pull further upward is a dead giveaway that he isn’t particularly upset by her language usage.

“It’s true!”

“Good grief.”

Kakyoin snorts at the father-daughter duo, relieved to see the two smiling again. Already bickering as per usual. There’s too much snark trapped in the Joestar bloodline, and it always amplifies whenever there’s more than one of them in a room. He’d know, having been on the road with Joseph and Jotaro in the past.

Somehow the back and forth settles into Jolyne rambling about dolphins. She regurgitates facts that-- for the most part-- Kakyoin already knows, but he feigns shock and awe at all the right places to keep her spirit up. It’s more healing to watch her babble emphatically than it is lying around in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. It eases some of the guilt, makes him feel lighter.

Eventually, Jotaro whiskers her out the door. Kakyoin catches sight of Holly, which must mean that Marina is tied up. Holly doesn’t come in, likely at her son’s behest. The woman is a mother through and through, and she can be a bit overwhelming at times. Better to focus all that maternal energy on Jolyne for now.

“You look tired,” Jotaro says when the door clicks shut behind the two. He takes his spot back next to Kakyoin’s bed, pulling his chair as close as he can. His knees grind against the railing of the bed a bit, but the distance allows him to lean forward and get a good look at his partner.

“I could say the same about you,” Kakyoin points out with a raised brow. He still can’t pick up his head for more than a few seconds at a time, and his vision remains fuzzy around the edges; a likely side effect of being drugged to the gills, but he isn’t blind. He can see the bags collecting under Jotaro’s eyes. Exhaustion-- emotional as much as it is physical-- already weighing his shoulders down.

Jotaro snorts an unamused sound, “I’m not the one that just had emergency surgery.”

Kakyoin winces at the reminder. “I’m-”

“If you finish that statement, I’m going to give you a reason to be sorry,” he isn’t. Jotaro won’t hurt him, but the words make Kakyoin close his mouth anyways. For a second.

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?”

Jotaro stares him down for a solid thirty seconds, expecting him to back down. When he doesn’t, the man pushes himself to his feet with an exasperated sigh. “Good grief, c’mere,” his fingers hook under Kakyoin’s chin, and he leans down to press their lips together.

As far as life affirming kisses go, it’s one of Jotaro’s more gentle ones, but Kakyoin feels the thrill of it chasing down his spine anyways.

“I love you,” Kakyoin murmurs as they break apart. He wants to add an apology to the end, but he bites his lip and keeps it to himself for now. He’ll find a way to make it up to Jotaro and Jolyne later.

“Love you, too, Tenmei.”

#jotakak #jotaro kujo #kakyoin noriaki #noriaki kakyoin #jolyne kujo #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jbba part 3 #stardust crusaders #blitzwrites #blitz

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 4 years ago

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[@redrequiem has requested some time-travel fix-it Yunmeng brothers, and here it is! I hope this is something like what you were hoping for ^_^] (Also posted to Ao3)

[Writing masterpost]

In hindsight, Jiang Cheng can admit that chasing blindly after the latest demonic cultivator of the week probably hadn’t been his smartest idea. Normally he wouldn’t let anyone even dare to suggest that let alone admit it, but, well. The disciples he had brought with him are nowhere to be found, and he’s tired. Sue him.

He looks down at the burnt-out array he’s standing in the dead center of, the unfamiliar lines of it no longer glowing red. They’re just marks on the ground, and he realizes as the breeze picks up through the forest that they’re not even permanent. Ash drifts around his feet, the characters blurring and then disappearing altogether into the breeze. There goes studying it to see if he can reverse it - not that he would because he’s not a fucking demonic cultivator but damn if it wouldn’t be nice to try to see how to undo whatever it is that has left him stranded in the middle of the woods with nothing but what he’s carrying on his person.

The breeze carries with it the smell of green water and lotus flowers, and at first he thinks nothing of it - the scent of it is so intimately familiar that he notices it more when it’s gone than when it returns. Except he’s supposed to be on the border with Qinghe. Nowhere near the lotus lakes of Yunmeng.

This just keeps getting fucking better and better.

----

Let it never be said that Jiang Cheng can’t find his way around the forest that surrounds his home. Getting down to the water is easy, and from there it only takes a quick look around to get his bearings to know what part of the river he’s on before he’s on his way home. He flies low over the water perched on Sandu, seething with irritation. Fucking demonic cultivators. Every time he kills one it’s like three more pop up in their place, and no one else is hunting them down to help him cut their numbers down. Not that he necessarily wants the help - better if he just does it himself. But still, it’s the principle of the thing. It’s a thankless and arduous task, and the last thing he needs is to be stuck randomly back all the way in Lotus Pier with his disciples all the way out by Qinghe. His free time to go out trailing these monsters is limited.

He barely pays a thought to Zidian sparking on his wrist as he flies closer to home, he just corrects the flow of his angry energy away from the whip automatically to keep from waking the weapon up entirely. It takes a few more moments before he registers that the weapon is still sparking even without his energy to fuel it - a few moments in which Lotus Pier comes into view, the lanterns on the docks steady in the evening air.

He alights at the end of one of the docks furthest from the main boardwalk back into the complex itself and he sheathes Sandu to take a closer look at Zidian on his hand, his irritation growing when sparks spit and flash along the length of it, utterly uninformed by his own energy. He turns his wrist this way and that as if that will help him solve the problem, and then he hears it.

“Fengmian!”

His blood goes ice cold, his entire body as still as a corpse. It doesn’t even feel like his heart is beating as he holds his breath, muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth hard enough to give himself a headache.

“When are you going to stop running off on this fool’s errand?” Yu Ziyuan demands, voice snapping out across the water. Zidian sparks higher on his wrist in response to the anger of her former master somewhere nearby, close enough that he can hear the sneer in her voice. “They died years ago! Their boy is probably dead by now too, and you have a son right here!! Does he mean so little to you that you have to run from home every other week so you can find that boy to replace him?!”

A soft voice, low, conciliatory replies too quietly to be understood, and the breath rushes back into Jiang Cheng’s chest in a painfully sharp inhale. Mother. Father. Arguing about - what else - him and Wei Wuxian. His hand curls into a fist tightly enough around Sandu’s sheath that the worked metal designs on it threaten to puncture. He likes that pressure, he usually finds it grounding, but there’s really no comprehending or coping with the sound of his parents alive and - well, if not well then at least normal - somewhere so close. So so close. He can practically feel Yu Ziyuan’s arms around him in the last embrace she had pulled him into that day the Wen had torn his world to shreds. He can feel the phantom of Jiang Fengmian’s thumb on his cheek brushing away his tears.

The tears are real, but he has to reach up to scrub them away with his own hand. A lantern sparks to life at the end of the pier, bobbing and swaying rather than stationary, and Jiang Cheng darts into the thickest shadows thrown by the overlapping corners of one of the closest buildings, crouching down low as he peeks around the wood and there they are. Younger, alive, and as he remembers them most often - Jiang Fengmian walking sedately where he wants to go, and Yu Ziyuan storming after him to demand answers that will never satisfy her.

His entire body aches to run to them.

“I have a duty to him, I cannot ignore it,” Jiang Fengmian says now, close enough that Jiang Cheng can hear the weariness already so present in his voice.

“You have a duty to your own first! Do you think A-Li and A-Cheng don’t see you leaving to search for him?! What do you propose I tell them, that they’re inadequate children because I bore them for you?! That you do not love them as you love a boy who is, for all you know, already nothing more than a figment of your imagination!”

“Yu Ziyuan!”

“Jiang Fengmian!!”

Jiang Cheng is expecting them to storm apart, to go their separate ways and seethe until the next time they come together. But...if they’re talking about Wei Wuxian like he’s not even here, if the only children in Lotus Pier are...himself and Jiang Yanli, then, he supposes, it shouldn’t surprise him that their reactions aren’t like what they will later become the more their marriage fractures apart.

Jiang Fengmian turns and sets the lantern at their feet so that he can place his hands on Yu Ziyuan’s shoulders. Jiang Cheng blinks as Zidian settles down on his wrist, finally no longer spitting little sparks under his muffling hand there in the dark. He watches with wide eyes as Jiang Fengmian sighs and pulls Yu Ziyuan to his chest and she...goes. To him. To her husband. She folds herself into the circle of his arms like she belongs there. What the fuck is happening?

“I will go out once more, no more than three days. If we can protect him, we must. I owe his father the wellbeing of his only son. It is a good lesson for the children in duty to protect those weaker than us, to extend kindness where we can.”

Yu Ziyuan is still for a long moment before she extricates herself from Jiang Fengmian’s hold and pushes him away by the arms to look up at him. Jiang Cheng can’t see her face clearly from here but he can imagine all too easily - her eyes angry and determined under the hard cut of her brows, lips pressed together in open irritation.

“Do not let this boy take your son’s rightful room in your heart or in this Sect,” she says, voice deadly calm. “I will revisit such hell on you a hundredfold for each day I see it. Do not test my patience any longer, Jiang Fengmian.” She stoops to scoop up the lantern and retreat back towards the residences, leaving Jiang Fengmian alone on the pier.

Fresh tears spring to Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he stays frozen in the shadows watching his father tip his head back to look up at the moon overhead. He stays there for a long time, lost in thought, before he heaves a sigh and turns to follow after Yu Ziyuan back into Lotus Pier.

The only other time Jiang Cheng has so desperately wanted to follow after them is the day they died. He knows he can’t. This is either a figment of his imagination, in which case it would likely end how all of his dreams of them do, or he has truly somehow been forced to travel to a time where he’s still a child, in which case they wouldn’t recognize him, nor believe him when he tells them who he is and what their future holds. He doesn’t know what will happen if he’s discovered, but it seems better not to risk it, much as he longs to run to them and collapse into their arms.

A different plan takes reluctant shape in his mind as he crouches in the shadows and watches the complex gradually go darker and darker as candles and lanterns are extinguished for the night. By the time everything is still and quiet but for the frogs in the mud and the wind in the trees, he knows what he’s going to do.

He’s going to find Wei Wuxian, and he’s going to kill him.

----

Finding Wei Wuxian is so easy he nearly laughs aloud at the sight of him. After chasing ghosts and rumors of his brother for thirteen years it’s almost anticlimactic to find him sitting on a stoop in town gnawing on a piece of..something that’s burned so black as to be inedible to anyone but the truly desperate.

Any doubts that he may have had about this somehow being the past are thoroughly dashed as he stands there watching the boy who is without a doubt the same boy he remembers his father bringing home so many years ago. He’s hunkered down over his ‘meal’ as if afraid someone will come along and snatch it from his hands. There’s a bundle of coarse fabric beside him that may have once possibly been meant to carry vegetables or rice or any number of things, but Jiang Cheng knows from that first night together as children that it’s full of the sorts of things a young boy with nothing else to his name would consider worth keeping. An extra shirt, so riddled with holes and bare patches that it’s more rag than clothing. A blanket suitable only for swaddling a baby that he had sworn up and down that he could still curl up tightly enough to fit under as long as he didn’t mind cold toes or fingers. A few melon rinds to snack on. A grass butterfly to play with.

Jiang Cheng looks at his waif of a child and he can’t help but see all the pain he’ll come to cause in the future. He can prevent it all right here, right now. Zidian sparks on his wrist, begins to flicker to life. Little Wei Wuxian looks up and around suddenly at the noise of it, his eyes zeroing in almost instantly on the purple lightning at his side.

“Whoa!!” he cries with delight, his entire face lighting up with delight. “That’s so cool, sir!! How do you do that?!”

Zidian sputters and then flickers out again, responding to the horror in his chest that replaces the fury. He’s just a child. A child.

He’s his brother.

Jiang Cheng holds onto the last vestiges of his fury for another long moment or two as he watches Wei Wuxian return to gnawing on his food with his back teeth as he looks up at him with wide, guileless, quicksilver eyes.

And then with a breath he shoves 13 years of blinding hatred away from his chest.

It feels like setting down a heavy pack at the end of the day. Like taking his guan out of his hair and removing the stiff shells of his Sect Leader robes until he’s stripped down to just..himself. Jiang Cheng, A-Cheng, who misses his siblings more and more with each passing day and yearns for the days when things were so much simpler. Whose grief is threatening to swallow him whole in a blaze of blistering fire.

“Do you want more to eat?” he asks his brother, small and vulnerable sitting there with nowhere else to go. Wei Ying blinks up at him and then glances at the food in his hands and back up to him. “You can say yes, Wei Ying,” he sighs and Wei Wuxian’s eyes go even wider.

“You know my name?!” he chirps, seeming torn between being afraid and excited.

“Yes. I know you. I can keep you safe and get you more food, food that isn’t burnt. Come with me.” Jiang Cheng turns on his heel with a swish of silk and he hears Wei Wuxian yelp a little before tumbling to his feet to come running after him.

“Hey!! Mister! Wait!” he calls, out of breath, and Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks so suddenly that Wei Wuxian runs into his legs with an, ‘oof’. “Ow,” he mumbles as he rubs at his head. Jiang Cheng is going to have a bruise on the back of his thigh in the exact shape of that head but he scowls as he recognizes that he really has no one to blame but himself.

“What? Aren’t you hungry?” he snaps, and Wei Wuxian blinks slowly up at him.

“Yes,” he replies as he reaches tentatively towards Zidian with one dirt-smeared hand. “But...I don’t want to get separated,” he adds, voice small, and then those little fingers are slipping into his palm. Not reaching for Zidian, then. Reaching for him. “Can I?” he whispers, eyes beginning to shine with unshed tears as he tries to hold Jiang Cheng’s limp fingers in his tight little fist. Jiang Cheng swallows past the sudden tightness in his throat and glares straight ahead for a moment before turning and kneeling on the hard-packed dirt in front of the boy. He adjusts his grip to clasp Wei Wuxian’s hand like he had when they had both been this age, when they had held hands in his room in Lotus Pier and promised to protect each other from their worst fears.

“Yes,” he says now, chest tight. “Yes, we should not get separated again. You can hold onto me. Don’t let go, alright?”

Wei Wuxian smiles at him wide and happy like the break of dawn and Jiang Cheng finds himself smiling in response, his eyes definitely wet again. “I’ve missed you, Wei Ying.”

He’s not prepared for Wei Wuxian to throw himself into his arms for a hug, but he immediately wraps his arms around the boy anyway and holds him close, his eyes squeezed shut against the torrent of emotions flooding through him, too numerous and too raucous to be named. So he just hugs his brother there in the middle of a street in Yunmeng, and he wonders just what the fuck they’re going to do now.

----

Lotus Pier is, of course, not an option. Not only can he not show up there dressed like the Sect Leader and wearing Zidian, but if he takes Wei Wuxian there nothing will change. Gusu’s out as well. He’d like to claim that he has some rational, thought-out reason for it, but honestly he just doesn’t see a point in letting Lan Wangji finally get what he wants after all these years, even though he’s just a boy right now. Petty? Sure. Jiang Cheng has never claimed not to be.

Lanling is an enormous ‘absolutely not’ written in bright red ink in his mind’s eye, as is Qishan. Qinghe very nearly makes the list, but then he thinks about trying to explain such esoteric, questionable events to anyone in the straightforward, bullheaded Nie Sect and he puts it under a mental column labelled, “I guess, but only if it’s absolutely, 100%, life or death necessary”. Not very promising.

In the end, there’s really only one place he can think of that’s at all viable, and so after a few days of Wei Ying eating his fill as often as necessary and sleeping almost constantly in their room in an inn a few towns away from Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng gathers his brother up with their few meager belongings and begins the trek to a place few people know about, even among the Great Sects.

It takes another two days of travel at the pace Wei Ying is capable of maintaining with him, and then a day after that of looking for what he knows to search for in the area, but finally he finds it. Or, rather, it finds them.

“Where are we?” Wei Ying chirps from where he’s perched on his back like a sack of potatoes (potatoes with very knobbly knees that won’t quit squeezing his ribs) and Jiang Cheng shushes him, but it’s too late.

“Stop!” Jiang Cheng obeys the command and between one blink and the next there are two women blocking the path in front of him, nearly identical down to the numerous weapons strapped to their belts. And the knives leveled at his throat.

He can’t put his hands up or Wei Ying will fall off his back, but he does his absolute best to look as unthreatening as possible.

“You are trespassing on the lands of the Meishan Yu. Turn back.”

“I need to see the Grandmistress.”

“Turn back.”

“Please,” he adds, desperation beginning to bleed into his voice. Wei Ying is very still on his back, mostly hidden in his cloak, and Jiang Cheng can feel him trembling faintly. “Hold on tight,” he whispers before he lets go to brandish Zidian on his wrist for the two women to see. “I am her grandson. I need to see her, it’s urgent.”

The two guards share a glance with each other and then drift forward in sync to study the weapon on his wrist. There’s no mistaking it for anything but an artefact of the Meishan Yu. And everyone in the cultivation world knows who its current master is.

“Demonstrate,” one of the women says, the one on the left who he’s pretty sure is the one who ordered them to stop. He nods and takes a step back before holding his wrist out to the side and letting Zidian spark to life, feeding his fear and desperation into it until the whip uncoils and he’s got his hand wrapped around the hilt. Lightning spits and arcs from the whip as he lifts it to crack once into thin air before he withdraws his energy and it goes dormant again.

“I need to speak to my grandmother.”

For too long there’s nothing but the sound of the wind through the trees, Wei Ying’s too-quick breathing in his ear, and two unreadable gazes fixed on his as the Yu warriors size him up. Without any external cue that he can see, the pair of them suddenly turn at the exact same moment and begin walking up the path. Jiang Cheng scrambles to get a good hold on Wei Ying’s knee again so he can follow after them.

----

“So - you’re from the future.”

“Yes, Popo.”

“And this boy is going to ruin it?”

Jiang Cheng looks over at where Wei Ying is studying a rack of retired spiritual swords so closely his nose is almost touching the side of one of the blades, his little puffs of breath fogging up the cold surface.

“Wei Ying!” he barks. “Not so close!”

“Yes Yin-gege,” he says dutifully, without moving an inch. Jiang Cheng slumps forward to brace his elbow on his knee so he can hide his eyes in his palm.

“That means step away from the swords, Wei Ying.”

“Yes Yin-gege,” he says again, but this time he at least shuffles two steps back. And then he leans even further forward to keep squinting at the steel at precisely the same distance.

“He seems truly monstrous,” Grandmistress Yu says with an indulgent chuckle.

“You haven’t seen what he’s capable of later,” Jiang Cheng mutters, his tone dark. “The things he did...what I’ve seen..”

“Mm, I believe you, very ominous. What would you like me to do about it?” Grandmistress Yu is just as pragmatic as Jiang Cheng remembers her, and just as emotional alongside it. She had taken one look at Wei Wuxian hidden in his cloak and ushered him out to ply him with sweets and tea and an affectionate ruffle to his hair. Not for the first time in his life he wonders how his life could have been different if he’d been brought to Meishan Yu to be raised rather than staying in Lotus Pier.

“I don’t know,” he admits with a growl of frustration, though he’s quick to check himself when Grandmistress Yu raises an admonishing eyebrow. “Sorry, Popo. I really don’t know. I just..I figured if I’m here, now, maybe it means everyone can maybe..try again. Growing up with me and jiejie in Lotus Pier wasn’t...it led to such terrible things, in the end. Maybe things can be different if he’s raised somewhere else. Maybe people won’t have to die.”

“A-Li won’t have to die, you mean.”

“There are plenty of others! He killed so many cultivators! And Wen Ruohan, he -”

“Oh yes, you leave that snake to me. But we’re discussing this parentless, future-evil child you’ve brought into my home. What are you looking for, A-Cheng? Someone to adopt him for you? A wife to raise him with yourself?”

“No!” Grandmistress Yu raises her eyebrow again at that outburst and he ducks his head, but this one he won’t apologize for. “No, Popo. I don’t want a wife or..anybody. But thank you. I don’t think I could even raise him, anyway. I don’t even know if I can stay here or if I have to try to go back or..I don’t know.”

“Hmph. I always thought you Great Sect Leaders always have an answer for everything,” she needles, a glint in her eye.

“Who would have an answer for this?!”

“Well. Probably Wei Wuxian,” she chuckles and, as if summoned, Wei Ying suddenly pops up next to her, his little face peering over the edge of the table between them.

“Hey, that’s me! Popo, can I have more sweets?”

“Of course xiao-Ying,” she tuts, pulling the plate of little honey cakes close enough for Wei Ying to reach over and snag one.

“Don’t touch anything with sticky hands!” Jiang Cheng turns in his seat to call as Wei Ying promptly runs off again to resume studying the weapons lining the walls as he munches on his cake.

“Okay Yin-gege!!”

“He’s a cute little thing, isn’t he?” Grandmaster Yu chuckles, though she finally relents when Jiang Cheng gives her a look that can only be described as ‘morose’. “A-Cheng, you worry too much!” she chides. “You can stay here for now, with xiao-Ying of course, while you get things figured out. You’re safe here, you know that. And if everything you’ve told me really happens so far from now I’d say you’ve got plenty of time to figure out what’s going on.”

“Popo..”

“Aiyah, A-Cheng, I know. I’m sure it’s very disorienting to be here from the future, but we’ll figure it out! And anyway, you’ve already changed things just by stopping your father from finding the boy. No matter what happens next, you’ve changed the future. Best to just take things one day at a time, there’s only moving forward.”

“What a nightmare,” he mutters into his hands as he scrubs them at his face. “I need to go back to where I came from, I believe. Whether things are different there or not, I don’t think it’s a great idea for me to exist here at the same time that I’m a child in Lotus Pier.”

“Mm I suspect you’re right about that. You said Zidian recognized your mother and you simultaneously?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting, I’ll want to look more closely at that one day. Until then - we’ve got all sorts of unorthodox cultivation manuals in our library. Perhaps something we find there can help you.”

Jiang Cheng drops his hands at that to stare at Grandmistress Yu, who scoffs at him as she picks up a honey cake for herself.

“Don’t look at me like that, A-Cheng. We’re known for crafting unusual first class spiritual tools and utilizing thoroughly unique combat methods. Do you really think we limit ourselves to the hidebound orthodoxies the other Sects do? Open your mind a bit, child, you’ll be much more content in life for it. Xiao-Ying, come talk to your Popo.”

Jiang Cheng watches in stunned silence as Grandmistress Yu pulls Wei Wuxian up onto her lap to talk to him, indulging him and his chatter easily as he talks, clearly thrilled to have an attentive audience.

Research. He can do research. He can research the hell out of unorthodox cultivation manuals, and one way or another he’s going to go home.

----

“Yin-gege, look what Popo gave me!!”

“Not now, A-Xian, I’m busy.”

“Yin-gegeeeeee,” Wei Wuxian whines, flinging himself into his lap and laying across him with one arm flung over his eyes. Jiang Cheng turns a page in his book and tries very very hard not to think about this exact scene playing out almost identically in Cloud Recesses in less than a decade from now. He really doesn’t want to compare himself to Lan Wangji but the resemblance is mildly uncanny in this particular moment. “It’s really really cool! It’s just like your bracelet!”

Well. That’s one way to get his attention.

Jiang Cheng snaps the book shut and looks down at the boy in his lap. Over the last few months in Meishan Wei Wuxian has gained all the appropriate baby fat for his age and is now, obnoxiously, cuter than ever. A fact which he absolutely uses to his advantage, no one will ever convince Jiang Cheng otherwise. Right now Wei Wuxian is grinning up at him so widely his eyes are nearly shut and sticking his right hand up towards Jiang Cheng’s face to show him a jet black bracelet, currently far too loose on him but it’s clear he’ll grow into the fit of it nicely.

“Popo made that for you?”

“Uh-huh. She won’t tell me what it does yet,though, she said I have to learn how to talk to it and ask it myself. But isn’t it so cool?! Maybe it’ll make lightning like yours and we could be like twins!”

Jiang Cheng pauses at that and can’t help but cast a slightly guilty glance at his book set aside on the table. Raising Wei Wuxian, even temporarily, has become full of these little moments - moments where Wei Wuxian is certain their future together is as set in stone as the present, while Jiang Cheng is desperately researching how to leave.

He refuses to let the reversed circumstances make him at all sympathetic to the Wei Wuxian of their adulthood after the Sunshot Campaign, though he can at least acknowledge the dark humor of whatever or whoever is in charge of deciding such twists of fate. The brother who was left behind is now the one attempting to escape. Funny, in a sick way. If he ever meets the author of his fate he’s going to punch them.

“Yin-gege, are you ever going to help train me to fight like the others do?”

He’s going to punch them hard.

“No, A-Xian.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fight like the Meishan do and you shouldn’t learn different styles when they’re trying to teach you theirs.” It’s not strictly a lie but it still sits sour on his tongue.

“Oh okay! Yin-gege?”

“What, A-Xian?”

“Popo said there might be one day when you’re not going to be here anymore.”

Jiang Cheng goes still and he looks down at Wei Wuxian still laying in his lap, his cheerful face unusually solemn all the sudden.

“Did she?” he whispers. It’s surprisingly gutting to hear it from Wei Wuxian’s mouth.

“Mhm. When do we have to leave?”

Oh - that’s worse. That’s so much worse.

“A-Xian..I...we’re not...I can’t take you with me.”

Wei Wuxian blinks up at him and Jiang Cheng watches in horror as it clicks. As understanding floods his little face and his eyes fill quickly with tears.

“Oh,” he manages to choke out and Jiang Cheng tugs him upright quickly to crush him to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, tears springing to his eyes without his permission. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats it over and over into Wei Wuxian’s thin, trembling shoulder, but it feels so painfully inadequate. How can he even begin to apologize for this? For everything? For horrors that haven’t even happened to him yet, and for the sorrows that have?

“If you’re sorry then don’t go!” Wei Wuxian demands, petulant and sure that the solution is just that easy, in the simple way that children so often try to solve their problems. Jiang Cheng manages a watery, strangled sort of laugh and holds on a little tighter.

“It’s not that simple, A-Xian. I wish it could be. I do.”

Wei Wuxian clings to him hard enough that his nails leave little scratches in the back of his neck and Jiang Cheng still feels like it’s not enough to make up for all the years without him, all the years of pain and misunderstandings, or what he still has to do no matter how much it’s going to upset them both.

Grandmistress Yu finds them like that just before dinner. Their tears have mostly dried but Jiang Cheng can’t stand to let go of his brother, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem inclined to let go either.

“A-Cheng,” she says quietly as she lights some of the candles around the room to chase away the evening shadows. “I found something.”

----

“I’ll make sure he meets you and A-Li,” Grandmistress Yu promises him a week later. The array they’ve agreed is their best bet to get him home is glowing the same sickening shade of blood-red as the one that had brought him here. “And I’ll tell him what I feel is important for him to know about all of this. I’ll help him, A-Cheng. Trust your Popo.”

Jiang Cheng nods and tries to pretend that he’s not clenching his teeth against the pressure of the lump in his throat. Grandmistress Yu reaches up to caress his cheek and brush his tears away, an unconscious echo of Jiang Fengmian’s final goodbye to him. Needless to say that doesn’t help him stop crying.

“No tears, A-Cheng, come along. He’ll find you when you get home, I’ll make sure of it. He’ll know to find you.”

Jiang Cheng nods again and turns resolutely away from Wei Wuxian’s tiny form, sleeping soundly in Grandmistress Yu’s bed on the other side of the room. It’ll take a couple of days for the drugs they gave him to wear off enough for him to wake. By then Jiang Cheng will be long gone, and Wei Wuxian will have to move on, grow up without him. Without their family. Fresh tears drip down his cheeks as he steps forward into the array. No sooner does he center himself in it just so than it flares blindingly bright around him, obscuring everything but the shadow of his hands through his eyelids as he raises them in front of his face to shield his eyes from the glare.

When the light fades, he keeps his eyes closed. He’s sobbing anyway, so there’s really no point in opening his eyes yet. Jiang Cheng drops to his knees and wraps his arms around his chest and he wishes he could hold his brother. Over the months of raising him as A-Xian, of being his Yin-gege, he’s had to let go of his anger entirely to avoid taking it out on him, so young and defenseless and still so wonderfully, beautifully innocent.

Now, all that fills him in the vacuum left by his anger is the gaping wound of a sibling he’ll never have again. He had told Grandmistress Yu everything he could about their lives and what he knew of the political intrigues that had been their ruin. He had needed to make sure she knew so she could prepare for the events that would unfold between then and now, but he’d also needed someone still alive to understand just how much he loved - loves - his brother. No one is alive now to remember just how inseparable they were, how they would both be willing to either kill or die for each other with no questions asked.

He had needed to remind himself of it, most of all.

But all of it, now, is gone. He knows he’s not in Meishan anymore. The world is quiet around him, too quiet for the middle of a sect. He’s in the woods again, the sound of trees rustling and the call of a night bird underpinning the ragged sobs tearing from his chest.

“A-Xian!” he manages, trying to give a voice to his pain, a name, to speak it into the air so maybe it won’t weigh quite so heavily on his heart. “Wei Wuxian!!!”

“Jiang Cheng?!”

Jiang Cheng’s head snaps up and he forces his eyes open as there’s the sudden sound of hurried steps crashing through the underbrush.

“Jiang Cheng!”

He can only stare in shock as Wei Wuxian himself - a grown man - comes skidding to a stop on his knees in front of him, frantically patting him down looking for injury, for a good reason for him to be on the ground in the middle of the woods crying like he’s lost Lotus Pier and his parents all over again.

“You’re here.”

Wei Wuxian laughs nervously, still patting him down. “Yeah? Where else would I be, huh? What’s wrong, are you hurt? I can’t find anything.”

Jiang Cheng grabs both of Wei Wuxian’s wrists and the gesture forces the man to meet his eyes, his own wide and startled.

“Wait - what in the world are you wearing, A-Cheng?” Wei Wuxian laughs as he pats him down again, this time just tugging on his robes - the same ones he had been given soon after he had decided his Jiang robes were too conspicuous to keep wearing in Meishan. “Is this Yu Sect? Where did you -” Jiang Cheng watches as Wei Wuxian’s eyes somehow manage to go even wider.

“Yin-gege?” he breathes, as if afraid of the answer, and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if the sound that escapes him is another sob or a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I didn’t want to leave you like that I swear I didn’t, A-Xian, please, believe me-”

“Oh A-Cheng come here,” Wei Wuxian chuckles, pulling him in for a hug and holding him tight. “Shh, it’s okay. Popo told me everything, she wrote every bit of it down for me, it’s okay. That was so long ago for me, you don’t have to be sorry. Come here, I’m here. I thought this might happen soon, we’re the right age for it hm? It’s alright, don’t cry.”

“Everyone else - Lotus Pier. Jiejie -”

“All alive, everything’s fine, Jiang Cheng. Shh. Just calm down first and then I’ll catch you up on everything, alright?”

Jiang Cheng nods and gulps in deep breaths as he clutches Wei Wuxian’s robes, buries his face in his brother’s hair.

“I’ve missed you, Wei Ying,” he whispers, his voice breaking. Wei Wuxian shushes him again and rubs a hand slowly up and down his back.

“I missed you, too, Yin-gege, A-Cheng, my didi. But I’m right here. You’re alright.”

There’s a long pause and then, as if lifting the weight of the world off both of their shoulders with the depth of his sigh, Wei Wuxian adds, “We’re alright.”

#the untamed fanfic #Wei Wuxian #Jiang Cheng #prompt fill #fix-it AU #I'm gonna be cross posting this to my Ao3 as well of course #hope y'all like it!#I'm not totally sure if I did the prompt justice but I may or may not have cried a couple of times while I was writing it #hopefully my tears count for something lol #It's a happy ending though I promise!

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songofclarity · 4 years ago

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(Was going through my notes app and found this but I'm not sure if I already sent it to you or not so I'm sending it again just in case lol please ignore if you already received this ask)

Idk if this would count as a prompt or rant lol but I kinda hate it when fics imply WRH has no taste (I mean this would work for CQL WRH but personally I don't consider CQL WRH Canon) IMO he must be extra and refined and picky in his tastes. He probably goes to a conference in an other sect and judges them very hard for their lack of taste and refinement.

Like everytime he's in koi tower he goes "look how gaudy this place is. Some people think covering everything in gold makes it look refined and elegant" and that's without talking of JGS's private "parties" that he has to attend sometimes and that leave him wanting to either set koi tower on fire or go home, take a long scalding bath, and scrub the whole outer layer of his skin off.

He doesn't know who's the genius who thought building lotus Pier on a pond was a good idea but he doesn't see the appeal of the stench, the unbearable humidity, and all the insects! He also thinks it's very improper how the jiangs can't keep their domestic arguments private and how madam Yu has to involve everyone in LP in her marital affairs, even the guests! WRH doesn't want to be part of your latest hysterics ma'am! He just took his 3rd bath of the day and is trying to have a nice refreshing drink in this suffocating heat, please leave him alone!

The "unclean realm" is truly worthy of its name in his opinion, the servants must be utterly incompetent and lazy to leave the main hall dusty like this and serve the dinner cold and an hour late. Also did no one teach the Nies basic table manners like "don't chew your food with your mouth open" and "don't speak with your mouth full" and "don't have an arm wrestling match at the dinner table" ?

The Cloud Recesses is tolerable enough but why would anyone need 3000 rules to live with? That's a little overboard isn't it? And how do the lans survive on their diet? are they descended from rabbits? Also who told LQR a 4 hour lecture on the history of Lan poetry was a good post conference entertainment? And how is WRH supposed to go through the ordeal without even a cup of wine? Maybe he should fake a migraine and retire to his room early?

Needless to say WRH thinks nightless city is the best by far and that's his objective opinion! No, he doesn't think he's being biased because nightless city is his home where he grew up and spent his whole life.

Everyone has a right to their own headcanons, but I agree, the mere idea that Wen RuoHan has no taste is just bizarre. Last I checked, those festivities he hosted in Qishan were a hit! No one was complaining about having to eat Qishan Wen food or put on some Qishan Wen disciple robes or shoot some QIshan Wen kites. Wangxian wearing Qishan Wen robes even has plenty of official art and merch because the style looks so darn good!

And those are the robes worn with pride by Qishan Wen cultivators and disciples on the norm. Everyone wants to be part of the Qishan Wen, guest cultivators love being part of the Qishan Wen! It’s only those other sects that have an issue with them, and it’s never an issue with Wen RuoHan’s taste.

But Wen RuoHan having an issue with everyone’s else’s taste is hilarious. I did receive this message before, but since you wrote so much already, let’s just play around with the idea for now! There are four reasons he never wants to leave his home and they’re called Cloud Recesses, Koi Tower, Lotus Pier, and the Unclean Realm, in that order...

As opposed to finding Cloud Recesses tolerable enough, my thought is that Wen RuoHan would think it's the worst! There is something very arrogant about not only having 3,000 rules, but immortalizing them on stone and forcing them on your guests. Wen RuoHan is the leader of the Qishan Wen. He is NOT a child! Wen RuoHan does NOT go to bed at 9 if he doesn’t feel like it and his subordinates CAN play music for him at 10 to help him sleep! All this smell of sandalwood is aggravating his headache from listening to Lan QiRen for three hours. His servants had to go to Gusu to buy his party a real dinner. So get these annoying Gusu Lan off his porch, he doesn’t need them trying to boss him around! The audacity of this place! One more word out of them and he’s burning this place to the ground!

Jin GuangShan invited Wen RuoHan to one (1) of his private parties and it lasted less time than it takes to burn a stick of incense. Wen RuoHan is not cultivating a perfect body for other people to touch and he did NOT travel all this way to watch Jin GuangShan and his posse act like animals in heat. What do you mean they were fucking in the kitchen? In the main hall?? Are these sheets clean or was Jin GuangShan here, too??? The waters of Lotus Pier are sounding quite nice right about now because it will take that much water to make Wen RuoHan feel clean again...! Don’t ever invite him to Koi Tower again, Jin GuangShan, letters only.

Lotus Pier is kind of... uncomfortable. Messy. Half-eaten lotus pods around the place, abandoned robes hanging off ledges by the water (he’s getting Koi Tower flashbacks), and disciples lounging half-dressed in the sun like lazy cats. Is this even a sect? Is he lost?? Who is in charge here??? There should be at least some order. But ah, he can’t be mad about the kids making too much noise outside. Wen RuoHan loves his kids, after all, and then there is Jiang Fengmian, who only keeps bringing up his bastard, which Wen RuoHan supposes is an improvement to Jin GuangShan. Oh, Wei WuXian is an orphan, son of a former servant, brought to Lotus Pier at age 8? Very talented, is he? And... Jiang FengMian didn't adopt him? Bring him into the family? Now Yu ZiYuan is staring at her husband with enough intensity to melt steel. This conversation just got awkward real fast. Also the lotus seeds taste nasty but everyone here keeps eating them like it’s normal. This place is making Wen RuoHan feel like a crazy person and he needs to go.

Now the Unclean Realm is strangely tolerable if only because it’s laughable. Wen RuoHan has never felt so important in his life. He is the sun in the sky if only because they never take their eyes off of him! Everyone looks like they might snap in half if he breathes too hard. Was that a laugh he heard or was it the wind? He touched a door and now three people are inspecting it as if it were poisoned. None of these people have so much as heard of entertainment. (What do you mean it’s because they don’t trust him? What did he do??) He did like what he saw of the saber practice, but they all pounced on him as if he were trespassing, as if they caught him in the middle of a murder! He knows all the sects call them Wen-dogs, but the Nie are the ones hounding his step everywhere he goes! Aren't they exhausted being so uptight? Because he's exhausted just watching them.

Nightless City truly is home sweet home 💖

#drawing-kitty1 #asked from above #wen ruohan #wrh is like Yikes you really live like this #i'd love to write this is full #a longer fic would suit it really well~#wrh-centric as events are playing out and he's visiting these places

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maggotmouth · 4 years ago

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hillo sexthy legends !! i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !! x o x

* CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

— born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

— its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

— margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

— for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

— at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

— she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

— a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.

— she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away. it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

— after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.

— she works at summer camps coaching junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

— enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment.

— she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

— used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

— was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

— nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

— has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

— she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

— calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

— stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

— lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

— constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

— frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you, indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine.

TLDR: angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

#aaaaaaa #we back boys #irvingintro #hmu for plots bayybeyyy

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freebooter4ever · 4 years ago

Text

Ice Cream And An Apology

Eugene drags his bff Snafu on a vacation to Los Angeles six years after Snafu left him on that train. They end up on Santa Monica beach where they finally admit they might be in love, and it might've been brewing for a long while, and wow are they clueless sometimes. Ace Eugene and Snaf, written for @skelesocks who makes the best Ace Eugene content around, thank you! And who was sad that I made Eugene cry, so here is me making him feel better through Snafu. (their vacation date includes a tiki hut, ice cream, swing dancing, secret cliffside hotels)(I took all the parts I do like about living in LA and put them here)(the ballroom existed but it's torn down now, the hotel is a real place I stumbled on while hiking way too far down the beach but it's actually a 1930's pool building called Palos Verdes Athletic Club)(with bonus historical photos cause I'm a fucking nerd)

Two years into grad school Eugene decides he needs a proper vacation. The only reason Snafu knows this is because Eugene also decides Snafu is the person he's gonna vacation with. And apparently Snafu has no say in this decision.

A very curt letter arrives one spring afternoon with a time, a date, and the address of the New Orleans railroad station, as if Snafu needed to be told where that is. Granted, Snafu's track record in being responsive and easy to reach is perhaps not the best, but Gene's known that for years. Snafu doesn't know what's changed with this particular meet up.

He's also a little resentful of the fact that Eugene thinks he can snap his fingers and Snafu will drop everything on a dime and come running. Mostly Snafu resents this on account of how true it is. Six years after the war and Snafu still can't let go.

So Snafu shows up at the train station, right on time, with his duffel packed tight, and his hat a little jaunty.

Eugene steps off the train with his ticket book in hand. He looks right and left, like he can't see Snafu standing a mere three feet in front of him. It must be the hat.

"You lost, Sledgehammer?" Snafu asks.

Eugene's eyes finally find his. Snafu's heart drops out of his chest, and he suddenly remembers why he made his original vow years ago to walk away and never see anybody again.

"Shelton?" Eugene asks, like he can't quite believe his eyes, and the formality stings.

"Miss me?" Snafu smirks.

Eugene doesn't answer. He simply walks up to Snafu, shoulder's Snafu's bag, and climbs back onto the train.

Snafu follows - like fucking always.

Eugene shoves Snafu's duffel into the luggage racks already almost stacked full, and guides Snafu to a private compartment.

Snafu glances admiringly at the plush seats and curtained windows, and whistles, "Adjunct professors must make quite a bit of money these days."

"I'm paying both your way and my way on this trip, so...yes," Eugene says, and Snafu knows it's non negotiable. No matter how many times Snafu offers, Eugene never accepts repayment.

"The truth is…" Eugene says that night after they've converted their plush seats into a bed, "...not making much money doesn't matter so much when you don't use it. I don't go out, I don't do anything, my parents pay my rent. What else am I going to spend it on?"

Snafu shrugs. A lot of things pop into his mind, but it's true Eugene never goes out so Snafu doesn't want to discourage this change. Eugene is the most boring college student ever. Snafu knows because he makes the drive from New Orleans to Auburn every weekend. And every weekend is the same, they spend most of the time lying around Sledge's dorm - Eugene studying and Snafu reading his latest murder mystery novel.

He supposes the sacrifice of Eugene's social life might have been worth it, though, if it meant being able to pay for the sleeper car. Because that night on the train when Eugene wakes Snafu with a yell, there are no prying eyes to judge them. Snafu wraps his arms around Eugene's shoulders in the privacy of their bunk and holds him till he calms down.

Sometimes Snafu wonders who does this for Eugene during the week, on the nights Snafu's not there.

"I just don't sleep those nights," Eugene whispers in the dark, his voice barely audible over the clacking of the train tracks.

Snafu squeezes him tighter. Eugene's back is pressed against Snafu's chest, and Snafu's nose is in Eugene's hair. And sometimes Snafu worries he might be crazy, but he also swears that the smell of Eugene's neck is the only thing capable of stopping Snafu's own nerves from jumping out of his skin. He'll never admit to Eugene how selfish he is. That Snafu doesn't keep dropping everything to run to his side out of some altruistic need to please. No.

Snafu's fucking addicted to the boy in his arms and he can't let go. No matter how much it hurts.

Plus they aren't boys anymore. Eugene is twenty eight, and Snafu is thirty, and he keeps waiting and waiting for Eugene to grow up and leave him behind but it hasn't happened yet.

It takes four days for the train to reach Los Angeles. It's hot - so fucking hot, Snafu wonders why Eugene picked summer of all times to vacation here, but the dry wind and brilliant blue sky is still a relief compared to the sticky humidity of home. He can kinda see why people come out here, even if the baking sun also makes him feel a little like a raisin.

Eugene rents a car. An unnecessary expense in Snafu's mind. The car even has a swamp cooler, which at first Snafu decries as the most absurd waste of cash. But then he presses his face to the passenger window to watch the rocket-like thing work. And sure, he can't feel the wind on his face anymore, but damn if the air in the car doesn't become more bearable faster.

Eugene watches Snafu and just smiles.

The outside heat cools off the closer they get to the coast. Snafu has no idea where Eugene is taking them. Perhaps that's why Eugene invites him everywhere, because he never asks questions. Honestly Eugene could take him anywhere in the world and it'd still be something, simply because it's with Eugene. Except caves. Snafu doesn't mess with caves.

They park in a giant lot, and when Snafu opens the car door he hears the familiar sound of gulls and the ocean. All around his head, though, are two story buildings - not a horizon line in sight. They must still be in the city. But then they turn a corner, walk two blocks down the street, and there it is: the Santa Monica pier.

The hippodrome catches the eye first. Then Snafu sees the long line stretching down a checkerboard walkway. The crowd of people ends at the mirrored doors and box office of the Aragon Ballroom. Something must be happening for it to be so busy in the middle of a random saturday. The crowd is young too, mostly teenagers. Snafu feels old, looking at them.

Snafu stares at the ballroom for a minute and then leers at Eugene. "You taking me dancing?" He asks.

"No," Eugene says, "I don't dance." He turns away from the gigantic world famous dancehall hanging over the ocean on spindly legs, and starts walking down the boardwalk.

Snafu hurries to catch up.

They clamber down tall wooden steps to get to the beach. Snafu touches one and ends up with a splinter in his hand, naturally. He's too busy trying to pick the damn thing out of his finger to notice when Eugene stops. Snafu collides with his back.

Eugene balances precariously at the edge of the bottom step, leaving only a little room for Snafu to squish in behind him. Snafu leans his chin on Eugene's shoulder and tries to figure out what is on the ground that Eugene's so intently marveling at.

"Gene?" Snafu slips his arm underneath Eugene's elbow and wiggles his hand in front of Eugene's face, "Your pa's the doctor."

"What?" Eugene asks in confusion as if brought out of a trance.

"Splinter," Snafu explains.

Eugene very carefully pries the long skinny splinter out of Snafu's finger. And then he goes back to staring down at his feet.

"What are we waiting for?" Snafu asks. He places his hands on either side of Eugene's hips and tries to remain patient.

"An engraved invitation," Eugene intones. He bends over to untie his Chuck Taylors and pull them off.

"That's just asking for splinters," Snafu points out when Eugene's socks come off next.

Eugene leaves his socks neatly tucked into his shoes on the wooden plank and steps into the sand.

Snafu, being more familiar with thievery, hastily threads the shoelaces through his own belt loop and then ties Eugene's two shoes together to hang off his hip. His own shoes stay on as he traipses after Eugene. Snafu's had enough sand between his toes to last him a lifetime.

It doesn't take long to catch up to Eugene. When Snafu reaches him, Eugene is breathing shallowly and clenching his fists, staring at the rolling ocean waves and the handful of beachgoers. To the casual observer, Eugene would appear to be enjoying the view, but Snafu sees the tension. Snafu sidles up to Eugene and leans against his shoulder.

"I thought it would feel different," Eugene says. His voice is calm, he looks calm, but he's anything but. Snafu knows the feeling all too well.

"C'mon," Snafu slips his hand into Eugene's and tugs him away from the shore, "Let's get off the sand."

They make it back to the boardwalk and Snafu gives Eugene back his shoes.

Eugene smiles at him gratefully, and that grin with those eyes is precisely the reason Snafu's always here. And in this case 'here' means 'by Eugene's side come hell or high water.'

Eugene smiles, and Snafu shrugs it off, and lets Eugene use his shoulder to steady himself while he puts his shoes back on one-handed. Those smiles make Snafu want to kiss them off Eugene's face to get rid of them. They're altogether too kind, altogether too caring, and it just worsens the already deep hole Snafu's dug himself.

They walk down the boardwalk for a short distance, eyeing the push carts, and the souvenir stalls, and the hot dog stands that look suspiciously crusty.

"Those aren't for you," Snafu says, pushing Eugene along by the small of his back when the boy lingers a little too long in front of a cheesy sign with a cartoon corn dog dancing on a stick. The dog has eyes, and looks way too happy about being eaten.

"What, why not?" Eugene asks.

"They're un-hi-Gene-ic," Snafu drawls.

"Oh god," Eugene casts his eyes to the sky.

"It's in the name, no Gene's allowed," Snafu adds.

"I got the joke, Snafu," Eugene says.

The next food stand they come to is a tiki hut. There's no other way to describe it. It's the tackiest thing Snafu's ever seen. Snafu hears about the 'tiki' craze sweeping the nation after all the boys came home from the south pacific. He sees advertisements using the motifs in the magazines at the mechanic shop he works for.

The tiki design is always heavily stylized, and completely fake, and so fucking ugly it makes Snafu's eyes hurt.

He turns to Eugene, and their eyes meet. There's a rush of shared knowing between them, it sends Snafu tingling down to his toes, and a genuine smile breaks out onto his face, and before he knows it they're both laughing. They lean against each other, giggling helplessly at this silly simulacrum of the islands they were trapped on for so long.

"Four nights on a train for this, Gene?" Snafu teases.

Eugene slings an arm around Snafu's waist to steady him and, still laughing, they wobble over to peer at the menu tacked against the entrance to the hut.

"Coconut ice cream," Snafu reads with exaggerated admiration.

Eugene shudders violently, and Snafu can feel it through his body. "I can't stand the smell of coconut," Eugene whines, "All those coconuts on Pavuvu, buried in the sand, rotting with that inescapable stench."

Snafu shakes his head, "You're missing out."

"Nope," Eugene insists and breaks away from Snafu, "We're not eating here. I would rather eat the No-Gene's-Allowed dancing corn dog."

"I bet by the end of this trip I'll get you eating coconut ice cream," Snafu calls.

"Not happening," Eugene calls back, making his point by already walking away.

Snafu eyes the coconut tiki shack, eyes Gene, and starts plotting.

Blissfully ignorant, and completely confident in his ability to talk Snafu into or out of anything, Eugene continues down the boardwalk.

Meanwhile, Snafu's attention is captured next by the neat row of bicycles at the very end of the small line of makeshift booths. The bicycles are clean, and shiny, with pastel baskets and sparkling handlebar bells, and colorful seats with clean, bright stitching. The kind of bicycles Snafu dreamed of when he was a kid. He slows to a crawl as they pass by and eventually stops, unable to resist going over and putting his hands on one.

Snafu rings the bell and chuckles.

He glances up and Eugene is smiling at him again in that overly fond way that says Snafu could probably get away with practically anything right now.

So, they end up renting two bikes. Snafu's is a mint blue with a grey basket. He pulls his shoes off and drops them into said basket to ride barefoot. The spikey plastic pedals feel hot and firm underneath Snafu's feet. Eugene's bike is a reddish salmon color with a burnt orange basket that when combined with the sun glinting off Eugene's red hair, makes him strike a truly imposing figure.

Snafu laughs about this for at least five minutes straight before they get on their way. He wishes he brought a camera. There's one slung around Eugene's neck, but Eugene blushes and refuses Snafu's request to use it.

"If I can't take embarrassing photos of you with it, what's the point of even having it?" Snafu demands.

Eugene still refuses.

Snafu sticks his tongue out at Eugene and takes the lead on the bicycles. It's incredibly easy to ride along the flat beach. The path isn't paved, and is a little rough, but half the time Snafu is standing on his pedals as he rides, so he hardly notices. Occasionally he looks back to make sure Gene is keeping up.

The only time he loses track of Eugene is when they're pedaling through a dilapidated old pier. Snafu banks a slight curve and notices Eugene isn't appearing around the shops and buildings behind him. He circles back around to find Eugene stopped and straddling his bicycle, looking towards the ocean.

Snafu pulls up alongside him and eyes him quizzically.

"It's two men…" Eugene nods at a couple making out on a beach blanket in the distance, "I saw them walking out there. The one with long hair isn't a girl, he's a guy."

Snafu looks at the couple passionately embracing, and then at Eugene's expression. "Shocking," Snafu says sarcastically, "Scandalous."

"You don't seem surprised," Eugene says.

"I live in New Orleans," Snafu replies, "Not all of us spent most our lives in hicktown Alabama."

"Mobile is not a hicktown," Eugene scowls.

"Stop staring at them, Gene," Snafu warns and nods at the couple, "They might give you a show." He rides off, this time determined to leave Eugene in the dust.

Snafu keeps going on his bicycle for a few hours. They're forced to make a brief detour around a marina, but they end up back on an oceanfront path, and continue on pedaling until suddenly the beach abruptly ends. The sand narrows off into rocks, and rising high above them are towering cliffs.

Eugene coasts to a stop next to Snafu and puts his foot down to rest. He's breathing hard. All that studying and not enough manual labor.

"Guess we're continuing on foot from here," Snafu suggests casually.

Eugene huffs in disbelief, "You're joking."

"Four nights on a train…" Snafu smirks, "I ain't stopping yet."

They bring the bikes back to the nearest beach facilities and lock them up in a rack, then set off across the rocks. At first it's fairly easy, there is a dirt path running directly beneath the cliff face but slightly above the worst of the jagged rocky beach. They've climbed over much worse during the war.

Eugene is an unenthusiastic hiking partner, however. They pass by a beautiful stucco building nestled into the cliffs with a high wall and flanked by old fashioned lamps. Eugene stares longingly at the NCAA sized swimming pool behind the wall.

"Later," Snafu promises him, and leads him on.

The rocks turn a little more treacherous past the wall, and eventually it gets to the point that even Snafu is carefully picking his way across rock by rock. He climbs hand and foot up to the base of the cliff and expertly assesses the narrow ledge leading across a plunging chut to the next rocky beach. The chute is roughly four feet long and ends in churning water. The waves are coming in, crashing against the rocks and zipping up the chute to lap at the ledge. Snafu puts one shoe on the ledge and wiggles it around to test his grip.

"Snaf," Eugene pleads from the rocks below, "I can't…"

Snafu stares down at him unblinkingly. And then turns and starts to walk carefully across the ledge. He makes it to the other side and leaps over the rocky outcrop.

"Merriell!" Eugene cries.

Snafu can no longer see him. After vaulting the end of the ledge he lands on another rocky beach, and in the distance he sees another point where the rocks give way to cliffs. Snafu clambers on tirelessly, but the path soon becomes all but impassable. He's reached the farthest point he can go. Eventually he gives up and turns around.

He climbs back onto the taller rock sticking out from the ledge and sits down on the top to watch the waves break against the rock's front edge. Below him and across the chasm, Eugene sits huddled on his own rock, intently watching the waves. Eugene ignores Snafu's return.

"Eugene?" Snafu calls softly.

Eugene's head jerks up and he looks at Snafu with a painful mixture of worry and anger. "What the hell, Snafu?" Eugene yells, "You jump over the other side and don't answer me for a half hour? I had no way of knowing if you slipped, or fell, or hit your head, or drowned…" Eugene's voice wavers.

"You could'a followed," Snafu argues.

"I cannot cross that ledge," Eugene snaps back, "Not all of us have your super human climbing abilities. You shouldn't go on alone...what if you ended up in the water?"

"Gene, I'm a good swimmer," Snafu says dismissively.

Eugene shakes his head at him in exasperation. "Fuck you, Shelton," he says, and he clearly means it. He turns back to the waves splashing at his feet and rubs his hand into his eye.

Which is when Snafu notices something odd.

He toes back across the ledge and hops down to the rock next to Eugene's to confirm his suspicions. Snafu tilts his head and scoots as close as Eugene will let him.

"Gene?" Snafu prompts gently, "Are you crying?"

Eugene screws his face up and presses his chin against his knees. He's clearly about to start crying in the way anyone starts to cry when they're feeling on the verge and someone asks them about it.

Snafu hastily stands and closes the last few inches between them. He crouches next to Eugene and puts his arm around Gene's shoulders.

"This was a mistake," Eugene breathes.

"I'm sorry," Snafu says. He leans his head in close to Eugene's and leans his weight against him in hopefully a comforting manner.

Eugene shakes his head and a brief sob chokes his next words, "I can't…." he pauses to catch his breath, "I can't do this anymore."

"Then we'll leave," Snafu suggests, "You've got a car. We'll drive out to the desert. You can draw some cacti."

"No, Snaf," Eugene says quietly, his voice goes almost calm, "I mean I can't do this anymore with you."

Snafu stands when he hears those words.

Eugene shivers and starts crying anew.

"You're gonna leave me stuck here without even a train ticket home?" Snafu's mind immediately jumps to how much bus fare will cost, and whether he's got enough cash on him or if he'll have to pick up some odd jobs before he catches the first train back.

"No!" Eugene exclaims, angry again, "I would never do that to you."

"Then what, Gene?" Snafu asks, his own voice rising.

"You can't keep leaving me like this," Eugene insists.

"I just jumped over a goddamn ledge…"

"You left!" Eugene tilts his face up to Snafu and hurtles the accusation at him, "You left without a goodbye and…"

"I came back!" Snafu interrupts.

"Not for my wedding," Eugene says sullenly.

"Nor for Burgie's," Snafu waves it away with a gesture.

"I'm not Burgie!" Eugene declares.

"I came back for your divorce!" Snafu counters.

Eugene drops his head onto his arms.

"For fuck's sake, Eugene haven't you cried over her enough?" Snafu sighs. He climbs back onto the ledge and scoots across over to the jutting rock to put some space between him and Eugene, "It's been four years. You barely knew each other."

"I'm not crying over Edna," Eugene protests sourly and sniffles snot back into his nose.

"Can't imagine why you two didn't work out," Snafu rolls his eyes and swings his legs over the edge of the rock to dangle above the crashing waves, "With names like Edna and Eugene."

A very slight smile tugs at the corner of Eugene's mouth. "E squared," he says.

"She's probably better off," Snafu offers, "No longer saddled with the terrible mouthful 'Edna Sledge'."

"You're one to talk, Merriell," Eugene points out.

"Merriell Sledge has a nice ring to it," Snafu goads him.

"I like Eugene Shelton better," Eugene jokes back.

"Thought you said you were done with me," Snafu says, unable to prevent his big mouth from opening.

Eugene looks up at him with the meanest glare he's ever seen.

It slowly, slowly starts to dawn on Snafu that he might be the reason Eugene Sledge is crying.

That comes as a shock. Snafu takes a moment to think back on his life and all the times he might've made someone cry. And not because he shoved some bully or asshole into the dirt. It's a very short list. One of his earliest memories is visiting his grandma as a child. She cried when he left, and hugged him for longer than he's ever been hugged in his life. His parents died, but they weren't the crying type anyway. His baby sister stopped crying after their parents' deaths. Even when Snafu enlisted, she didn't shed a tear.

And absolutely none of the men Snafu formed attachments to were the crying type either. Till Eugene, till now.

But Snafu can't imagine why Eugene is crying over him. He answered the extremely self-pitying letter Eugene penned in the weeks after Eugene's divorce, he's spent every weekend with Eugene since to keep him company, he tries to be there for whatever Eugene needs. Eugene's got no fucking reason to cry because of him.

Eugene's crying like Snafu broke his heart, except there's no possible way Eugene could care about him that deeply. This love Snafu's got going is a one way street, and he's careful to keep it that way.

Snafu digs into his pocket and pulls out a rather beat up carton of cigarettes. He calmly lights one and tosses the rest to Eugene. Eugene holds the carton like it's something precious.

"Sledgehammer," Snafu says, "Just tell me what you want."

Eugene takes a deep breath to steady himself. He grips the paper cigarette carton hard till it crinkles. "I think I want what those two guys on the beach have…" Eugene tells the waves. And then looks to Snafu for some sort of validation, "...but with you."

Snafu smokes his cigarette and tries to remember there's a ten foot gulf with choppy waves between them and launching himself across it is not physically possible.

"And this is why I can't keep doing this anymore, Snaf," Eugene says when Snafu doesn't answer his request. Eugene turns back to the rocks below his feet and says with great frustration, "Our friendship means everything to me, but it's killing me."

Those last words weigh heavy on Snafu's conscience. "Okay, Gene," he says, "We'll finish out this vacation, and then I promise you'll never have to see me again."

Eugene swallows hard. He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in his arms once more, so he doesn't have to see Snafu right now.

Snafu makes his way over the ledge for the last time and carefully places a hand on Eugene's trembling shoulder. "C'mon," he says kindly, "Let's get back to the bikes."

Eugene twines his hand with Snafu's. Snafu bends down, braces Eugene's arm with his own, and helps him stand. Eugene sways into Snafu's chest and for a minute their faces are too close together for comfort. But neither of them are looking at each other. And Eugene isn't smiling, so it makes it easy for Snafu to deny the kiss and pull away.

Eugene's horribly quiet as they make their way back over the rocky beach. He pauses before they pass the wall with the swimming pool.

Snafu looks back questioningly.

"I'm hungry," Eugene announces, "You made me ride my bike for three hours, then scramble over rocks for two. This place looks nice, it's hygienic, there's no palm fronds or fake tiki statues. We're stopping here."

Snafu eyes the iron gate skeptically. The lock is hanging loose and the gate is ajar, but only because a few people from the private pool are swimming in the ocean nearby.

"You object?" Eugene asks stubbornly, ready and looking for a fight.

"It's too fancy," Snafu says and jerks his chin in the direction of the three story building stacked in layers on the cliff like a cake, "I see white lace curtains in those windows. Fucking clean lace curtains."

"The hot dogs were too poor, this place is too rich," Eugene says, "Make up your mind, Snafu."

Snafu sighs, but concedes Eugene may have a point. He gestures for Eugene to go through the gate first.

Sometimes Eugene's ability to take all of his generational wealth and privilege and put it to use comes in handy. After hours of physical exercise they look bedraggled. Both of them are dusty, the armpits of their shirts are damp, Eugene's collar is creased, Snafu never had a collar to begin with, they have sand pouring out of their shoes, and yet when Eugene walks through that gate he owns the place.

Snafu slinks in on his coat tails and settles in to watch the show from a distance. Some pool boy comes up to stop Gene from going any further, and the set of Eugene's shoulders takes on a stubborn slant. Eugene isn't pretentious. But he knows how to be. Snafu's never seen Eugene use his status, or his upbringing to deliberately belittle anyone beneath him. When he does draw out this intangible skill to demand the kind of respect money offers, it's always in defense of someone who doesn't have it.

And Snafu kinda likes being the beneficiary of that benevolent righteousness. It's entertaining to watch people's attitudes change toward Eugene in the blink of an eye when they realize he's someone of means.

All it takes is a few quick sentences, and the attendant who initially stopped Eugene is suddenly apologizing and taking Eugene's ID. Before the attendant reverently carries the ID back towards the main house, he glances nervously at Snafu.

Snafu tilts his head back against the pool wall and lazily smiles. Snafu knows where he belongs but he doesn't give a shit.

The attendant turns tail and runs.

Snafu watches him go with a bit of hypocritical glee till Eugene quietly returns to Snafu's side.

"We're staying here tonight, huh?" Snafu smirks.

"Yeah," Eugene nods confidently, his hands in his pockets, "It looks comfortable."

Snafu hums and grins at Eugene admiringly.

"You might have to put up with clean lace curtains for longer than expected," Eugene warns.

"Think I can handle that," Snafu replies.

"Swell," Eugene says, only half sarcastic and immediately satisfied with Snafu's agreement. Eugene's eyes start roaming around the pool deck till he spots what he's looking for, "Now that's settled, I see a burger bar with my name on it."

"I believe the name on that sign says 'Hanna's'," Snafu points out drolly.

"Grab that table overlooking the ocean," Eugene says, "I'll bring you a menu."

Snafu climbs a narrow stone staircase built into the cliff face and sits down at one of the three tables hidden in a nook behind a trellis of lavender. He adjusts the tables a little, shoves one closer to the wall at the edge of the cliff, and then sits down.

Eugene comes up a few minutes later and offers Snafu an embossed menu featuring a long list of items and no prices. "I see you removed the lace tablecloth," Eugene notes with a grin.

Snafu briefly glances at the discarded pile of table linens he made on the table next to theirs and scoffs, "Don't need that shit for hamburgers."

Eugene bites his lip and concentrates on reading his own menu.

They both order hamburgers, and Eugene deliberates between a milkshake or a soda before eventually settling on the house rootbeer. Snafu additionally orders three extra sides of french fries. The hamburgers are as large as Snafu's hands and the french fry portions are generous enough that Snafu still has a large stack at the end of the meal. He leans back in his chair, props his feet up on the ocean wall, and snacks on fries while surveying the waves.

Meanwhile Snafu can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

Snafu finishes his fries, and lights a cigarette.

Eugene is still watching him.

Snafu can't bring himself to meet Eugene's gaze. Eugene's eyes are everything good - kindness, vulnerability, trust, smarts...when Snafu looks into them he feels this rush of uncontainable emotion, that drug that makes his nerves calm. And the persistent need in the back of his head to be somewhere doing something quiets down till it goes silent entirely, because he's here, sharing this with Eugene, and somehow that's more than enough.

They're not even doing anything, they're relaxing on the side of a bluff looking out at the ocean and sharing a cigarette. It should be boring as hell, and yet when Snafu does finally get the guts to flick his eyes towards Gene, he's utterly satisfied.

He's going fucking insane, is what it is. All cause of Eugene's eyes. He tries to clumsily explain this to Gene. Snafu feels he owes him that much. It doesn't come out right. None of Snafu's words ever come out right, not like Gene's with his studied elocution and tendency to think long and hard before he speaks.

Except this time, as Snafu speaks, Eugene's face loses his sour expression entirely, and Snafu sees hope there - maybe a little bit of joy.

Eugene places the cigarette back in Snafu's hands and leans his elbows on the table intently. "Snaf," he says very seriously, "how do I explain to you that I feel the exact same way every time I look at you?"

"Not possible," Snafu counters stubbornly.

"Snaf!" Eugene laughs.

"I can't be for you what those guys on the beach are for each other," Snafu says.

"Why not?"

"Just can't."

"Just like I can't fall in love with my asshole gunner during the middle of a war?" Eugene's still grinning like he can't stop now that he's started.

"I'm not enough, Gene."

Eugene sighs. He studies Snafu's profile quietly for a minute, and then switches tactics. "Do you know why mine and Edna's divorce was okay by my parents?"

Snafu shakes his head. He hadn't even given it a thought. Just assumed Eugene's parents knew their son deserved the best, and anyone named Edna was clearly not that.

"We, uh," Eugene coughs, "We never consummated the marriage. I kept putting it off. Easy to do under strict christian values. Till Edna got fed up, realized I wasn't about to give her kids anytime soon or ever. And demanded we split."

"You're still a virgin?" Snafu stares at him in surprise.

"I am," Eugene blushes angrily, "And I'm kinda tired of people shaming me for that."

"No shame," Snafu says fairly, "I remember how you were during the China occupation years. Always thought that was just cause your fear of VD, though."

"Yeah, that was my excuse at the time," Eugene says, "Snaf, you know I love you. Passionately. I want to be able to say that, whenever I feel it, instead of choking it down and trying to hide it. I'd like to kiss you. I very much enjoy holding you. I think we could live together very happily. That's what I want from you, nothing more." Eugene reaches over the table and takes Snafu's hand resting beside the crystal water goblets. "I'll beg you, if that's what it takes to get it through your thick skull."

Snafu smiles a little despite himself.

"Also, we're both gonna have to work on quitting smoking," Eugene concludes his list, "cause I'm going to need you to grow old with me."

Snafu plucks at the bar menu on the table beside his elbow. He casually picks it up and scans the dessert section. "You know...," he says casually, "...they've got coconut ice cream." He flips the menu around so Eugene can read the list.

Eugene reaches with his free hand and grabs the menu to examine it. "If I buy you coconut ice cream will you finally admit you love me back?"

Snafu looks at him and Eugene is smiling so hard his cheeks must hurt.

Snafu uses their twined hands to pull Eugene closer over the table and press his lips to Eugene's in answer. He looks deep into Eugene's eyes, his gaze as unwavering and cliche as his devotion, and says, "I love you, Gene. Heart and soul."

Eugene threads his free hand into the back of Snafu's curls and touches their foreheads together. There's a knowing between them that's existed in some form since that first day on Pavuvu. Eugene doesn't need to say a word, Snafu can read it all in his eyes. He leans in and kisses Eugene one final time before pulling away and standing up.

"Now that that's settled," Snafu says with a devil grin, "Let's go see about that coconut ice cream."

Eugene groans, but when Snafu wraps his hand tighter around Gene's to help him stand and leads him back down the cliffside stairs to the pool deck, Eugene willingly follows.

Snafu stands on his tiptoes at the poolside bar to order a double scoop ice cream cone with chocolate drizzle. Eugene stands to the side and fiddles with the condiments while he waits. Snafu tilts his head to bat his eyes saccharinely at Eugene while the bartender is in the back with the scoops. And Eugene's reflexive smile in return is bashful and more than a little endearing.

They take Snafu's prodigious two scoop chocolate drizzle coconut ice cream cone outside the gate and onto the ocean rocks. The evening air is finally cooling, but the setting sun melts the ice cream fast. Snafu keeps having to lick at his hands where the milky cream runs down his fingers. Snafu sucks at the edge where cone meets ice cream, and notices Eugene watching him.

He waggles the cone in front of Eugene's face invitingly.

Eugene hastily grabs Snafu's hand so his wiggling doesn't make the double scoop fall off into Eugene's lap. "Fine," Eugene sighs, as if tasting ice cream is a true hardship. He holds Snafu's hand still and takes a tentative lick.

Snafu grins when he sees Gene's eyes light up. "It's only called 'coconut ice cream'," Snafu announces, "Never said it tasted like coconut."

"How…?" Eugene asks.

"They just make it out of coconut milk, it's flavored with vanilla," Snafu says, proud to have won an argument.

Eugene eases the cone out of Snafu's hand in order to better take another bite of ice cream.

Eugene's hair is blowing wildly in the ocean breeze. Snafu watches strands of hair fall across Eugene's face and Eugene desperately tries to shake it out of his mouth so he can eat. Snafu chuckles and brushes Eugene's hair off his forehead and holds it there to give him easier access.

Eugene crinkles his eyes at Snafu in amusement and mumbles his thanks in between bites of ice cream.

"I think you've had enough," Snafu comments and draws the cone away from Eugene's grasp after two thirds of the ice cream has magically disappeared. But instead of eating more himself, Snafu kisses Gene and sucks on his bottom lip to get the last drops of ice cream. Eugene tastes sweet, and his lips are refreshingly cold. And when Snafu opens his eyes, he can see that Gene is silently laughing at him - or with him, because Snafu is laughing too.

Snafu grins, kisses the tip of Eugene's long nose because there's some ice cream there, and then turns back to his cone. He barely gets his mouth around it before Eugene is tugging the cone out of his hand a second time.

"Hey, you could'a got your own!" Snafu exclaims, trying to keep the ice cream away.

Gene wins. Because of course he does. "I'll buy you a second one," Eugene promises.

Snafu threads his fingers through Eugene's bangs again to hold them back, and chooses to watch Eugene instead of the sunset. Gene's tinted round sunglasses are brilliantly rosy, casting colored shadows on his cheeks and making them even rosier.

"Gene," Snafu says, just to be able to savor his name.

"Mm?" Eugene cuts his eyes to the side and raises an eyebrow at Snafu even as he licks melted ice cream off his hand.

Snafu tilts his chin up and scoots closer till their sides are pressed tight together. "I think this is gonna be the best vacation I ever have," he confesses.

Eugene turns back to his ice cream and comments, "Thought this was the only vacation you've ever had."

"Yeah, but I mean in the future too," Snafu swipes at his collar and unbuttons it a little to give himself more breathing room.

"Naw," Eugene scoffs, "Don't worry, we'll top it." He licks his lips and hands the almost empty ice cream cone back to Snafu, "That's pretty darn good."

Snafu breaks into a wide grin. "I told you. I told you so, Sledgehammer!" he says proudly, "Next time I suggest new food, you better listen!"

Eugene laughs and agrees, "I will." He maneuvers around on the rock till he can lay his head in Snafu's lap. "If you drip any ice cream on me, try to aim for my mouth," he advises.

"Sure thing, Sledgehammer," Snafu says and bites into the last of the cone with a crunch. It's a bit messy and he does end up dripping some on Eugene, but it lands on Eugene's forehead . It's okay though because Snafu bends over to kiss him clean, and Eugene laughs and complains that it tickles.

When the ice cream disappears, and the sun is set, and the last bit of twilight is slowly fading, Eugene and Snafu make their way back across the rocky beach to their bikes. Nothing's changed, yet everything feels different. This time when Eugene miraculously spots a tiny crab species scuttering over a rock, and stops to admire it, Snafu can openly admire Eugene and Eugene's goofy fascination. And when they're chatting as they walk, and Eugene retorts with something particularly sarcastic, instead of just laughing it off, Snafu gets to tug Eugene back by his hand, spin him around, and lay a kiss on him. Just because he wants to.

Of course, when they do finally reach the bikes and rejoin civilization, Snafu has to reign in his urges somewhat, but from time to time he still manages to smile at Eugene in that way that makes Eugene blush, and usually trip over his own feet if he's not being careful.

They drop the bikes off at the booth, and Eugene pays a rather hefty late fee. They're walking back to their car when Snafu grabs onto Eugene's elbow and stops them both.

He draws Eugene in close and whispers, "Look at the pier, all lit up at night. Like fireflies."

The hippodrome is dotted with popcorn lights, it's turrets and arches glamorous behind shadow in a way they aren't during the day.

Eugene stands straight, takes a deep breath, locks Snafu's arm under his elbow, and takes off down the street towards the pier.

"Gene, where are we going?" Snafu asks worriedly, slightly alarmed and keeping a sharp eye out for anyone looking at them askance because of being arm-in-arm.

"I want to dance," Eugene decides. He marches them straight up to box office window of the ballroom and slaps a ten dollar bill on the counter. "Can he and I enter the ballroom as a couple?" Eugene asks challengingly.

Snafu nearly chokes. It's late enough there's not many people around outside. Most everyone is in the ballroom where the band is in full swing. Whenever one of the front doors opens and people exit, a cacophony of talking and loud music escapes with them.

The bored and exhausted woman behind the desk takes in Eugene, lingering on Eugene's Marine Corps ring, and then Snafu, and shrugs, "Sure, whatever."

Eugene nods enthusiastically in relief, "Thank you," and slides the money over. Being pressed up against Eugene's side, Snafu can feel him sweating.

The girl behind the counter gives them two tickets and their change. Eugene gratefully pushes five dollars of it back to her, nods once more, and drags a still-in-shock Snafu over to the doors.

Eugene falters once inside the doorway, suddenly shy. He holds his head up high, but there's tension in his neck when Eugene swallows nervously.

It's up to Snafu to pry his hand out from underneath Eugene's sweaty armpit, and walk them both onto the dance floor.

The first few dances are easy as pie. The songs are familiar, big band numbers both of them recognize from their days during and immediately after the war. Eugene is a horrible dancer, but Snafu more than makes up for it. And with how lively everything is, no one notices two boys in a crowded corner doing the jitterbug with themselves.

Plus Snafu secretly enjoys having to grab Eugene's hips and turn him in the proper direction or place. Even if it also means he nearly trips over Eugene's feet every five minutes. There's a freedom in being able to be naturally affectionate with each other in public.

The only person that bothers them is a short but very handsome man who comes up to compliment Snafu on his dancing.

"How'd you get stuck with this dancing ginger elephant," the guy says to Snafu and sticks his thumb at Eugene, "Why, you're so light on your feet, I bet you could get any girl on the wall in here."

"I'm teaching him how to dance," Snafu says curtly. He shifts his grip on Eugene's hand and swings Gene close into his side protectively.

Meanwhile Eugene is glaring at the newcomer.

"Hey, you're teaching skills must be pretty swell," the guy says admirably, "Can I get a lesson?"

Snafu skids their dance to a stop. There's no way this asshole is going to go away without some kind of placation. Snafu turns around and grins, fully prepared to give this guy a verbal vertical buttstroke to the chin. But Eugene intervenes first.

"You're out of luck, mister," Eugene says. He pushes his way in between the guy and Snafu, "I'm afraid he's all booked up tonight."

"Oh," the guy says affably, completely clueless to Eugene's souring mood, "Well, how about tomorrow?"

"He's busy tomorrow too," Eugene replies.

"But not tomorrow night," Snafu interjects, slipping around Eugene, "Give me your name and number and I'll call you with my lesson schedule."

Once Snafu jots down the guy's information, the man finally goes away satisfied.

"You're not really going to call him?" Eugene asks.

Snafu tries to coax him back into a dance, but Eugene's limbs turn very floppy when he's unenthused. "Of course not," Snafu answers, "But he's gonna leave us alone now. And he won't go complain to someone about the two guys dancing together on the floor."

"True," Eugene sighs.

Snafu spins them around and launches into one of the dance moves Eugene picked up the fastest in order to give Gene something to feel confident about. They link hands and hook opposing arms behind their heads. In one swoop their grips slide down each other's arms till they catch their hands again.

Eugene grins.

Snafu uses their momentum to snap them close together again and they playfully push each other to rotate clockwise.

"Feeling better?" Snafu asks.

"He was smarmy," Eugene states. He switches direction on the beat and touches Snafu's shoulder to follow.

"He was," Snafu agrees, amused.

"He's not your type," Eugene says, turning a second time.

"Definitely not," Snafu agrees again.

"What is your type?" Eugene asks. He sounds slightly worried, as if the thought just occurred to him that Snafu might have a 'type'. And he might not be it.

"I like guys who are smarter than me," Snafu reassures him smarmily.

"Well shit, that rules out at least ninety percent of the population," Eugene declares.

"Yeah," Snafu grins, "Good thing I found you."

"Good thing," Eugene agrees.

Snafu swings out and twists back in till he's tucked neatly under Eugene's arm, and pauses to wink at his dance partner. "Plus, you're no elephant," he reassures him.

Eugene snorts, "Actually he might have been right on that front…"

"No way!" Snafu insists, stepping out and holding their hands at length, "You'll be a great dancer. I think you might be ready for a few aerials."

Eugene furrows his brow and looks concerned, "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope. Don't worry about it, I'm light, you'll toss me around like I'm nothing," he says.

"Snaf," Eugene exclaims, "I'll end up dropping you is what I'll do."

"You won't," Snafu insists. He shim shams into Eugene's space and tilts his head up till they're a breath away from kissing, and smiles disarmingly, "I trust you."

Which, of course, Eugene can never resist so here they are on the dance floor, Snafu explaining the simple physics of launching one body off another to an expert in biology. Hooking their arms together and him rolling over Eugene's back is the easiest so they start there.

For all his nerves, Eugene proves to be a very solid dance partner. He never shies away from a hold, and his feet might be slightly off but they never stumble. The first time Eugene effortlessly swings Snafu over his leg and into a side dip, Snafu's heart is fluttering in his chest and he's gazing up at Eugene in exuberant delight. Eugene sets Snafu down, swings him out, and when they come back together they almost collapse against one another in relieved laughter over their success. Snafu's arms lope around Eugene's neck and they giggle terribly.

Snafu didn't expect this.

He probably should have, Eugene never does anything by half and he always is a quick learner. Eugene picks up the steps so fast, in fact, that by the end of the second hour Snafu has to start shooing wallflower girls away who keep wanting to take Snafu's place.

Eugene, being Eugene, completely fails to notice the girls' interest, which is almost as entertaining as him refusing to take his attention off Snafu all night. A few times Snafu offers to give Eugene a break, and maybe find his own girl to take for a spin in the middle of the dance floor. But Eugene insists he needs no breaks.

When the music finally switches to something slow, Snafu slides to a stop and leans heavily against Eugene's shoulder panting.

"Let's get some water," Eugene suggests, and pats Snafu on the back. He starts off in the direction of the bar but Snafu hangs behind.

"What," Snafu taunts when Eugene glances back at him, "You won't slow dance with me?"

Eugene's eyebrows shoot up, his eyes go wide.

Snafu doesn't give him a chance to overthink things. He takes Eugene's hands, positions them properly for a waltz, and leads him into the dance. At first Eugene is stiff, and he refuses to make eye contact with Snafu, too busy scanning the room.

But after a few steps, after the world doesn't end, Eugene folds in closer to Snafu's body. Their cheeks brush. And Eugene's ear is suddenly right there, in front of Snafu's mouth. So Snafu tightens his embrace, and sings along to the song's romantic lyrics in a whisper meant for Eugene alone.

Snafu can understand Eugene's initial hesitation. After all the years Snafu spent sharing dances with various partners he didn't give a shit about, this feels especially vulnerable, despite the fact that they are one couple among thousands on the floor. There's a part of him that didn't think he'd ever have this moment. That for all the people jumping at the chance to dance with him, Snafu'd never feel the same way about someone else.

Eugene is so fucking gentle, it's easy to mistake him as soft. His hand is light against the small of Snafu's back. It's a little hard to believe not two minutes ago that same hand was gripping Snafu's thigh hard as Eugene spun him into an aerial. But as always, Eugene only uses his strength when necessary.

"When I graduate this year, I'm going to do my PHD in Florida," Eugene says as they slowly sway to the music, "I know I'm asking a lot but...Merriell...would you come with me?"

Snafu remains silent. He hadn't fully considered what loving Eugene might actually mean. That with him came Alabama, the Sledge family, the universities...

"I'll have a stipend, to take the financial pressure off," Eugene hastily elaborates, because Eugene always feels that if he adds more facts into the conversation he'll be more likely to win, "If you can find a job locally, that'd be great, but you wouldn't need to work. I've been budgeting this past year and I've calculated a way for the two of us to live off what I make. Maybe not comfortably, but it wouldn't be for long. When I get my diploma we can go back to New Orleans, or anywhere you want really. There are colleges and universities in almost any city. Snafu, I want you with me. No more pining after you every week and only feeling whole on the weekends…"

"How long've you been thinking about this?" Snafu asks.

Eugene is quiet for a while. "Do you mean how long have I been planning for it, or how long have I wanted it?"

"The second one?" Snafu asks, slightly uncertain.

"That day on the train…" Eugene begins.

"A few days??" Snafu interrupts incredulously, "That's all the thought you've given this, for fucks sake Gene!"

"On the train in 1946!" Eugene corrects sternly.

Which just about shuts Snafu up.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything sooner?" Snafu asks.

"Snaf, if you would just let me finish," Eugene complains, "That day on the train Burgie was talking about marriage, you were asking about jobs, everybody seemed to be thinking about commitments and when you turned to me the only damn certainty I had in my head was you. But then you didn't say goodbye. I thought...I figured…you were done with us in your life...with me."

"If I follow you to Florida will that make up for it?" Snafu asks.

Eugene grins, real slow, like he knows the past four years of Snafu being at Eugene's beck and call is partially Snafu's way of atoning for his abrupt departure. "It just might," Eugene says confidently, "It just might."

One thing about the timeline of everything doesn't add up in Snafu's mind. "So," he says, "I don't say goodbye and six months later you go and get yourself married?"

"I assumed leaving was your hint to me to try to fall back into civilian life. To forget about the war, and war buddies, live normally. And according to everyone, that meant marriage," Eugene sighs.

"Who's everybody?" Snafu smirks.

"Not you, obviously, Mr. Confirmed Bachelor," Eugene smiles back at him slyly, "But my mother, and Sid. Hell, even my brother got on me for still being a virgin."

Snafu laughs and dips his head closer to Eugene as they dance. He rests his cheek on Eugene's shoulder along with most of his weight, relying on Eugene to hold them both upright. "Did you love Edna?" he asks.

"I did, but not in the way she wanted," Eugene says quietly, "She's a lovely person, sometimes I wish I could love her like she deserves, like how I love you. Might've made life easier. But not better, I don't think."

"You saying me walking back into your life after your divorce made things better?" Snafu laughs at the absurdity.

"Yes," Eugene says seriously, "Infinitely better."

Snafu lifts his head from Eugene's shoulder in order to pull away and look into his eyes, to see if he's telling the truth. "Okay," Snafu agrees, "We'll go to Florida together. Till then, I'll see if my boss knows anyone in Auburn who can find me some work up there, and I'll move to Alabama."

Eugene gives Snafu a blank stare, so akin to the ones Snafu usually gives him, that it throws Snafu off and makes him question everything (including the efficacy of his own blank stares, maybe he should try to learn to communicate better).

The song the band is playing comes to an end, and the swing starts up again. The couples around them whirl into motion. But nobody pays attention to the two men standing in the middle of it all with their arms locked around each other.

Till Eugene surges forward and kisses Snafu.

The kiss catches Snafu off guard. Eugene's hand is flat on the small of Snafu's back and is holding Snafu flush against Eugene's body. Good thing too, cause Snafu's knees almost buckle in surprise. Eugene bends him over backwards in his enthusiasm to kiss Snafu harder, and Snafu wraps his arms tight around Eugene's neck and smiles into the kiss.

This is it, this is the 'war-is-over-we-are-going-home-together-in-triumph' kiss Snafu has been waiting for. Not triumph in the form of parades and adulation. But triumph in that against all odds, they survived, they found each other, Eugene fucking loves him, and they're gonna actually, finally...live.

They're about six years late, but Snafu figures that's forgivable when taking into account insecurities and the lingering numbness and fear hanging round their necks.

Eugene breaks the kiss and stares into Snafu's eyes, and Eugene is so pretty - he's so fucking pretty it hurts. Snafu wants to kiss him till all traces of that war weary blankness are gone from his eyes. There's moments - when Eugene comes to life with his sarcasm or sly wit or intellectual curiosity, and Snafu likes to pride himself on being able to bring those moments out. But is it enough?

After a bit Snafu begins to notice that it's not just them gone completely still. The couples around them are stopping and staring, and whispering.

"Shit," Snafu says under his breath to Eugene. He ducks his head and takes his arms off Eugene's shoulders.

"Yeah, we should probably get out of here," Eugene agrees. His hands still grip Snafu's hips.

Snafu laughs, giddy and reckless, and bumps his shoulder playfully into Gene's. If anyone nearby had any doubts after that kiss, all they'd have to do is take one look at Eugene's face and see how damn in love he is.

"Hey!" someone in the crowd calls out and Snafu can see the guy coming at them in the peripheral of his vision.

Snafu grabs Eugene's elbow. "Walk fast, but try to not draw more attention," he whispers and leads Eugene off the dance floor. They make it to the entrance and out the doors. As soon as they get outside, Snafu twines his hand with Eugene's and breaks into a run, their feet hitting the wooden boardwalk with loud hollow thumps. They can hear agitated voices and footsteps behind them, and they don't stop running till they reach the car.

Snafu slams the passenger door shut and turns to Eugene as soon as he gets inside. They're laughing from adrenaline and Snafu's heart is racing. He cups Eugene's cheek and tilts his head for another quick kiss before Eugene starts the engine.

Somehow Eugene knows the drive back to the hotel on the oceanside cliffs. Snafu doesn't pay any attention. He kicks his feet up on the dash and is too busy admiring Gene's long nose and the curve of his jaw backlit by the passing neon lights to give any thought to the car's direction.

The parking lot for the hotel is at the top of the cliff. There's a locked iron gate, nestled between eight foot tall hedges, with the name of the place welded onto it in an arc. The gate is small, and barely noticeable at the edge of the lot. Eugene has a key - it's antique and very decorative - and lets them in. The stairway beyond the gate switchbacks down the cliff, with thick walls protecting people from falling off the path. The air is thick and heavy with the smell of flowers growing abundantly around them.

Snafu pauses under one of the lamps. He folds his elbows over the wall, rests his chin on top, and looks out across the hotel and gardens below, and the ocean beyond. "We stepped into a goddamn fairytale," Snafu says.

Eugene comes up behind him with an embrace and rests his chin on Snafu's head, "Does that make you my prince?"

"No way," Snafu emphatically denies, "If anyone is a prince in this scenario, it's you Gene."

"Impossible," Eugene says with a smile, "Prince Eugene sounds like a pompous ass. Prince Merriell, on the other hand…."

Snafu laughs. "Maybe that's what my ma had in mind when she made up my name."

"Definitely," Eugene agrees, "She knew you'd grow up regal."

"Fuck regal," Snafu rolls his eyes, "Fuck propriety. You willing to give up all that shit for me, Gene? We ain't gonna be accepted into those circles anymore."

"Yes," Eugene says readily.

And Snafu believes him.

Their hotel suite, as expected, has white lace curtains covering each window, holding back the ocean breeze. Snafu's mother hung lace curtains in their home too, but those were already yellowed with age, patched in places, and quickly turned grey with dust. These hotel curtains reach to the floor and yet remain pristine.

Snafu stands on the balcony and smokes before bed. Eugene sits inside and reads. Or at least Snafu thinks Eugene is reading. Snafu turns his gaze away from the ocean only to catch Eugene guiltily ducking his head behind his journal.

"What?" Snafu asks, with a wry smile.

"Nothing," Eugene says, which almost definitely means it's something he's embarrassed about.

Snafu snubs out his cigarette and leans over Eugene's shoulder to investigate.

"Thought you just drew plants?" Snafu asks.

"I'm expanding my range," Eugene says dryly.

"You made me look skinny," Snafu comments.

"You are skinny," Eugene counters. He hooks an arm around Snafu's waist and walks him over to the bed. He sweeps Snafu off his feet in one of the lindy hop holds, and tosses Snafu onto the bed.

"Never should have taught you those aerials," Snafu teases. He stretches out across the pillows and dares Eugene with his eyes to join him.

Eugene says nothing, just grins widely as he climbs onto the bed next to Snafu.

Snafu kisses that self satisfied smile on Eugene's face.

They lie next to each other, their legs entwined, and their noses so close they're almost touching. There's a lightness in Snafu's chest he's never felt before. Happiness he knows, elation he knows - as rare as those things are. But this is new. He knows it can't last. Nightmares will come, they won't just go away, but for now he can lie here and soak up Gene's presence.

"I already knew you loved me," Snafu confesses.

"What do you mean?" Eugene asks.

"Even before you said it today. I think I've known since Okinawa," Snafu says.

"I figured," Eugene replies.

"Were a couple of fucking cowards," Snafu laughs.

"No, the world is cowardly," Eugene counters, "We were just trying too hard to adapt to it."

Snafu bites his bottom lip in consideration. He lifts his chin, thinks about saying something, and then decides words aren't necessary. Gene knows. Gene's always known. Snafu reaches over and gently takes Eugene's hand. Snafu twists around and pulls Eugene's arm across his body till his back is tucked against Eugene's chest.

Eugene folds around him. He's warm, and he's so much in love.

"Snaf," Eugene whispers in his ear before they fall asleep, "Let's get it right this time. Just you and me."

tagging requests: @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar (btw i think you have tagging turned off) (also if I am missing anybody on this list I apologize, pls tell me <3)

#sledgefu #Bad germs

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awhiskeyriver · 5 years ago

Note

Yay! So happy that you're writing AND that we get to have some more insight on TheBet! Peeta! :) I'd like to know what was going on his mind on thanksgiving, with K being there with his family. Also, it's not Peeta's POV, but I was always wondered what Madge's thoughts on Katniss were when they accidently met at the boys apartment door for the first time, and also when she sees K in the dunk tank and Peeta stops to "save" her. Did she recognize K from the bet? Was she curious?

Thank you so much!

Okay, so this isn’t *exactly* what you requested...but this is the scene at the dunk tank from Peeta’s POV with some insight into Madge as well! I had a few requests for the Thanksgiving scene, so keep an eye out for that one later on as well! :) Hope you enjoy!

+++

“Hey, I know her.”

I turned to Madge, following her line of sight down the pier to where Katniss Everdeen was sitting above a dunk tank clad in nothing but a soaked-through bikini. As if on cue, a gust of cool wind struck and I watched her shoulders instinctively hunch while some guy with a megaphone encouraged people to visit the booth.

“Yeah, everyone knows her,” Gale snorted, looking away with a shake of his head. “She’ll go down in history as the dumbest sorority girl at Panem. And that’s saying something.”

Why would they choose a dunk tank for a party in the middle of October? It wouldn’t surprise me if there was snow on the ground in a few short weeks, and yet they had people sitting out at night in barely anything? Made no sense. Megaphone guy looked warm enough in his fleece jacket...

Madge shot Gale a disapproving look before pressing on. “I meant that’s the girl who came to the apartment the other day.”

“Stop pointing,” I hissed, rubbing a hand along the back of my neck subconsciously. The last thing I needed was for her to catch us talking about her.

When coach heavily implied we all needed to spend more time together off field ‘bonding’--aka, I needed to leave the apartment for more than practice and class--the only option worth consideration was to head to Greek row. It was the place most students could be found on a Saturday night, and this weekend more than most, since it was their fall fundraiser. Chances of encountering Katniss were high, and I knew that, but I could hardly convince my team mates and coach that I was over the entire bet if I kept avoiding social settings like the plague.

So, to the frat house we went. And sure enough, there she was.

I swallowed heavily, hating the way the sweat on the back of my neck felt ice cold when the wind hit. And the way it made me pity Katniss for how cold she must be.

Shit, she caught me staring.

Our eyes met for a short moment before I looked away, uncomfortable heat encompassing my body at being caught.

Madge, who had no shame, continued to look on before nudging me in the side playfully.

“She’s got a smokin’ body.”

“Jesus, Madge,” I grumbled, afraid someone would over hear her. My embarrassment only made her laugh and she patted my back lovingly as I stared down at my shoes.

I could feel Katniss looking over in my direction still. The heat of her deep gray eyes boring into the side of my head. Her full lips pursed and eyebrows slightly downcast.

“Am I wrong?” she asked, the question open for any takers. I wasn’t stupid, I saw the lingering glances a few of the guys gave before trying to feign indifference. If it was for my sake, there was no point. I knew she was good looking.

Hot.

I chanced another glance, and for a heated moment we stared at one another. Swallowing hard and stuffed my hands down into my pockets for something to do.

Who was I kidding, she was fucking stunning.

Which made me all the more an idiot for ever believing she was interested in me.

“It’d be kind of funny to dunk her,” Gale pointed out, wrapping a protective arm around Madge to starve off the wind. I watched in the distance as Katniss gave into the struggle and finally wrapped her arms around her bare stomach.

How much longer would they seriously make her stay up there?

“Try your chances to dunk a Theta. You can’t convince me you haven’t thought about it at least once,” Megaphone guy continued to taunt. “If for no other reason, it’s an excuse to see one soaking wet…”

My feet moved without permission, before I was even fully aware of what I was doing, but I heard Finnick ask where I was going and saw the wide-eyed stare of Katniss as I walked up to the dunk tank.

The guy attending it lowered his megaphone to the table and leaned forward with an easy grin. Either he recognized me, or thought I was a scumbag who gave into his pitch. Or both.

“Five bucks for three hits, bro,” he said, holding a hand out.

“How many rounds until she’s done for the night?” Something about her sitting there on display, shivering so hard her teeth were chattering, made me ask.

The guy looked confused, and I was staring to lose my patience.

“You want her to get down?” he confirmed, and when I gave a short nod his eyes narrowed.

“That’s not really how this works.”

“Will it work for two-hundred?”

“Dollars?”

I pulled out my wallet, handing him the cash with ease that should’ve given me pause. I was in too deep to care, now. Focused on my goal.

“You can do whatever you want with her for two hundred dollars,” the kid joked, and he seemed to sense my disapproval as he turned to the megaphone to announce to anyone within a five mile radius that I’d paid a pretty penny to play the game. Surrounding us a few people cheered or clapped, but mostly we went ignored as he slapped a bucket of bean bags onto the table for me to take the hits I’d paid for. I ignored it, walking past the table and over to the booth where Katniss eyed me with a level of distrust.

“Hey,” she said slowly, crossing her legs which were eye-level with my face.

I cleared my throat before returning the sentiment.

Her eyes darted between the untouched bean bags and me for a moment before a sly smirk tickled her lips.

“Come to warn me that you’re about to pelt me with a bucket worth of bean bags?” she laughed, eyebrows raised in question.

“No,” I said, and my answer seemed to surprise her. Did she really think I was going to throw bean bags at her? “I came to tell you that you can get down.”

She wasn’t convinced. Katniss folded her arms across herself, doing wonderful things to her chest that I fought to ignore as I kept my eyes trained on her face, which was still painted with unease.

I realized then that my request came off more instructional and demanding than I intended, like I was ordering her to get down or something. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that maybe she was having fun. Despite the cold, she might’ve been enjoying herself and there I was, coming to ruin it.

“If you want,” I added, lamely, wondering if again I was about to be rejected, left to walk away awkwardly after yet another failed encounter with Katniss Everdeen.

I’d barely gotten the words out before she nodded eagerly though, reaching out for help to get down from the high seat above the tank. I lifted an arm up to help, not letting go of hers until she was firmly back on the ground.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, pushing a piece of curly hair back behind her ear before crossing her arms again.

“No problem.” I was glad my voice came out normal, masking the way my heart was pounding inside my chest with her standing inches away from me practically naked.

Practically naked.

Shit.

“Do you, uh, have a towel or a blanket?” A blanket? Really? I looked around the ground stupidly for anything resembling such, but came up short.

“I left it inside,” she admitted, biting down on her lip.

“Here.” I pulled my sweatshirt off, smoothing the material out before holding it out for her to take. It wasn’t much, but comparatively it was something at least.

She took the offering without complaint, pulling it down over her head before turning up to me with an appreciative smile.

She was drowning in the fabric, the thing almost reached her knees it was so big and she had to roll the sleeves several times before the material stopped falling over her hands.

“Sorry,” I said, sheepishly. “It’s huge.”

“It’s comfortable,” she argued, and the bright smile she gifted me was enough for me to return it. We stood there a moment longer, but with nothing more to say and the temperature only dropping, I figured it was best to let her go inside to warm up.

When I chanced a glance over at the group of people waiting for me, their reactions to the exchange between Katniss and I varied, but Madge gave me a wink that had me turning away quickly.

“I’ll come find you after I change to return this,” she said, motioning to the sweatshirt.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said quickly, not wanting her to feel like it was all part of some elaborate ploy to make her come find me later tonight. She could keep it forever, for all I cared. It looked far better on her than it ever had on me.

Her expression looked doubtful though, and sensing she needed some reassurance, I added, “You can give it back to me another time. Just go get warm. It’s freezing out here.”

“Okay,” she said almost shyly, a far cry from the girl I’d originally met. But, I guess that was where we were now that things had fallen apart. Awkwardly tip-toeing around one another, unsure of how to proceed. Not really friends but...what? Not enemies, at least. It didn’t seem like it.

“Peet, let’s go!” I heard Finnick call out and the realization that they were all still standing there watching, that anyone could be, made my skin heat.

“I’ve uh, gotta get going.”

She waved goodbye as I turned to walk away, unsure how I felt about the exchange. But when I made my way back to the waiting group, Madge gave me one of her clever looks that couldn’t go ignored.

“What?” I asked, hesitantly. I really didn’t feel like being the center of conversation--especially one to do with Katniss Everdeen--for the rest of the night.

“That was a good move, giving her your jacket.”

“It’s cold,” I insisted.

“Yeah, but now she’ll have to return it.”

“I mean, she doesn’t have to,” I said quietly, trying to remember if I’d asked her to or not but the whole conversation was honestly a blur.

“She will.” Madge was leaving no room for debate. “And in order to do that, she’ll need to set up a time to see you again. Sly dog.”

“It’s not like that,” I insisted, but Madge only shrugged before walking quicker to catch up with Gale.

She was a helpless romantic, it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change the fact that there was nothing between Katniss Everdeen and I besides guilt and awkwardness. Maybe in an alternate universe, before the bet things could’ve been different.

But in this one, she is somebody with endless options. Beautiful, popular…

And I’m just me.

#anon #ask #the bet #peeta pov #fanfic #thg #the panem nightlocks series

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jaeminlore · 5 years ago

Text

The World is Ending and I'm With You

SPINOFF | PLAYLIST (pls listen while you read)

summary: and i won't sleep through this. i survive on the breath you are finished with. words: 6.1k+ category: angst, fluff, suggestive, mark won't stop talking about how he used to be a cub scout warning(s): death, religion mention, death mention, implied sex ohoho i'm getting bold, littering (not from mark bc he's a good boy), unedited a/n: john mayer song that's kind of an easter egg, and a poem at the end by someone called s.b.,,, also you don't have to read the spinoff to read this one :) but it does take place in the same universe/timeline.

You never were one for smoking. Your mother always told you it would increase risk of cancer, and in turn, death. But now the world is ending, and your mom hasn't been home in a few days. So, you smoke.

The convenience store you work at doesn't have many packs left. Your manager has some stupid rule about rationing stock now that delivery truck drivers are quitting at a rapid rate. They don't want to be stuck on the freeway when the meteor hits. Which makes sense to you, but it's all your bitter manager seems to complain about.

You take a pack out from behind the clear screen and extract a stick. You're in the middle of lighting it with a lighter that most certainly isn't yours when a wide-eyed boy appears in front of the counter. He dumps a basket full of snacks onto the register, followed by a plethora of hygienic products.

"You worried we'll run out?" You try to joke. Really, this is a small town, and your store is the biggest one in town (which isn't saying much at all.) It's completely possible.

The boy shrugs. "I'm gonna hit the road before everything goes down. I don't want to be here if a riot starts. Also, I want to find my soulmate."

"Don't we all?" You say, blowing smoke out of your mouth.

The boy coughs and gives you a short glare. "Something to look forward to, at least."

You throw the still-lit cigarette across the store. Part of you hopes it will catch on something and burn the store to the ground. But it goes out on the cold linoleum floor. You look at the boy again. "I'll give you all of this for free if you let me come with you."

(Mark isn't sure why he chooses a road trip in the first place. It's not like his beat up old van can outrun the end of the world. Maybe deep down, he hopes it can.

He also isn't sure why he's let you tag along, save for the fact that he really needs to stock up on food, just in case. And he's also lonely. Maybe talking to someone will calm his restless soul.)

Mark has a giant van. There's a mattress in the back, complete with a blanket and pillow. He tosses his groceries in the back and clumsily shoves the key in the ignition. "Are you sure about this? I'm going across the country."

You light another cigarette. Five packs stolen from your store sit in his glove compartment. "We have what? A week left? I have nowhere better to be."

He takes this answer and begins to drive. The radio is staticky, but you can make out the preacher's message of salvation in the last days. You wonder if it gives the boy comfort. It gives you anxiety, so you take a long drag and focus on the weird way the cigarette smoke warms your mouth. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"I'm Mark." He turns down the radio. "I'm pretty sure my soulmate is in California, based on my tattoo."

"Okay," you say, because you really don't care. You haven't believed in soulmates since your parents got divorced. You throw the cigarette out of the window and try not to think about the way your moon tattoo burns against your collarbones. "Does your tattoo say California or something?"

"No, it's just a sun."

You want to call him dumb. Or stupid. Or an idiot. "California isn't the only place on earth with a sun, you know. And apart from that, it's a huge state. How are you gonna find your soulmate in a week?"

Mark takes an anxious sip of his gas station slushee. "I know it's stupid, okay? But I feel drawn there, so it's my only shot."

You lower the sun visor and grab the pair of aviators that are hooked onto it. "Well I feel drawn to the sea, so let's go to the beach first."

(Mark wants to tell you that he knows he won't find his soulmate. His soulmate is probably dead with the rest of the world that got caught in the atmosphere change. His soulmate is probably farther than California, but for some reason the state is stuck in his mind.

He remembers his aunt's beach house. Solar generators for electricity and water. A familiar place to stay in the end. But for now, he wants to take his chances on the road. He doesn't want to be dormant, and he knows you don't either.)

Mark hits Oregon at three in the morning. He nods off once and veers into the side of the highway before you finally convince him to pull over for the night.

He parks at a truck stop and the two of you take showers, using what products you and Mark bought (stole). You use more than you need. Shampoo gets in your eyes.

Your eyes are still burning when you meet up with Mark at the van. He's already asleep, an open bag of chips beside him. He must've been too tired to even eat.

The back of the van is covered in those battery-powered clip-on fans from the mall kiosks. Mark told you earlier that he had bought them on sale. You had asked earlier why he hadn't just stolen them.

He told you he believes in heaven, and doesn't want to hurt his chances of getting there. You told him you don't think good works matter anymore.

You eat the chips and fall asleep beside him, ignoring him as he mumbles random phrases in his sleep.

(Mark lays down on the mattress. The van is hot, even with the windows cracked, even with the cheap fans, so Mark feels his skin beginning to get sticky with sweat. He doesn't want to eat. He doesn't want to sleep. He doesn't want to breathe in this foggy air and think about the inevitable.

He wishes you would just come out of the shower and join him. He waits for what seems like ages, until he's too worn out to keep his eyes open. He falls into a restless sleep, not noticing the way the mattress dips when you join him.)

"My dad was a mafia boss," you say, spitting a sunflower seed shell onto the dashboard. The Clash is playing from Mark's radio, and the station wavers in and out as you drive across state lines.

"Really?" You've found that Mark's eyes grow obnoxiously big when he's surprised about something. His mouth forms a little 'o' shape and his voice grows softer. It's adorable, so you make it your mission to surprise him as much as you can. That, and road trips are pretty boring when the world is ending.

"No."

"Come on!" Mark pouts. You can see it in your peripheral vision. "Stop lying to me. I bet your dad doesn't even have a cool job."

"Guess then," you taunt. "By the way, we passed the California-Oregon state line like, five minutes ago."

Mark gasps and rolls down the window, looking back towards the passing highway, as if the sign is going to still be there. "I can't believe I missed it! This could be it. This is where we find our soulmates."

You spit out another shell. "I'm hoping my soulmate's name is Long Beach because that's where I'm going."

"Let's stay together," Mark says. He's biting his thumbnail, eyes towards the empty road in front of him. "I don't know how many more of us will be left."

You want to correct him and say that there are plenty of people left, and yet you know that a lot of people took the pill. Or got sick. Or killed in a raid. Funny, a meteor is scheduled to hit the earth and people decide to leave early. Or they lose their humanity entirely, and take people out with them. Truthfully, there aren't many people left at all.

"Okay," you say. Your eyes stay on his face a little longer than necessary. You take note of his wide, innocent eyes and wonder if he even understands what's happening. Or maybe he just looks like that. But really, all it does is make you want to protect him from the inevitable.

Maybe there's a secret spaceship you can hide him in, and he can start a new, albeit solitary, life on the moon.

You'd never make it to Area 51 in time. That's where they keep the spaceships, right?

(Mark doesn't know how to tell you that he doesn't even care about this stupid soulmate thing. He just doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to say that, because it means he has to vocally admit that he is alone. Truly. Not by choice.

He was out of town when his family got the flu. The atmosphere got too much. Whatever sickness killed and left as soon as it came, took them too. And he had to go. He had to get out, as far away from the east coast as he could. So he decided on the west coast. And then he decided on you.)

"Let's get our tan on!" You joke. The clouds are heavy and dark above the water. It looks like the sky and the water are becoming one, however slowly or quickly. You grab Mark's elbow and pull him towards the sea.

The waves roar against the silence of the land. There's a family down the ways, barely noticeable under the pier. You watch a seagull fly down towards the family and steal something. The little girl shrieks, but you don't know if it's in excitement or fear.

The beach is distractedly empty. No people — save those already mentioned — are anywhere to be seen. There's debris everywhere: old umbrellas, coolers, and towels are half-buried in the sand.

The tide is coming in higher (something the news channel probably warned about) and for some reason, it makes the world feel incredibly small.

Mark has already got his legs in the water. It's lapping at his clothed jeans, but he doesn't seem to mind. His back is turned to you. He's facing the horizon, still and silent.

You hate to ruin this for him, but as the mood grows more dismal, you want to lighten it.

You sneak up behind Mark and jump on his back. Your weight catches him off guard, and the two of you plummet into the cloudy water. Mark yelps when the water hits his torso. You fall in after him and grip his shoulders. Closing your eyes tight, you hold you breath and lift your face above the surface. "Feel refreshed?"

Mark coughs. He rubs his eyes, wincing when the salt reaches beneath his lids. "Why would you do that?"

"It's fun," you say.

Mark begins swimming into the deep water. He looks a bit like a lost child, doggy paddling in the vast sea. He grins, and his lips are a bit lopsided. You notice his cheeks grow hollow when he smiles. "You scared me, Y/n."

The sentence ends timidly, like he isn't sure if he's allowed to say your name out loud. But you like it. It's hesitant and soft; loud because it's the only word spoken for miles; quiet because it's Mark. You wonder briefly how to get him to say your name again.

The two of you swim until you can't touch the sandy floor below you anymore. Mark holds his own, but you struggle a bit. "They were right about the tide getting stronger."

"Here," Mark swims over to you and wraps his arm around your waist. "Stay close to me."

Something akin to reticence settles against the wall of your skull like the numb reminder that this is all very weird. Mark is a stranger, and you're cross-country with only him. It bothers you that your mind is already growing attached; your heart already growing attracted. This is the last thing you need to happen during your last days on this literal godforsaken earth.

You swim back to the shore first and lie on the sand. It clings to your wet skin. The tide laps at your feet. The sun is going down, and the air feels overwhelmingly muggy. You close your eyes.

(Mark thinks about the waves. He thinks about the frequency of your voice when he splashes you. He thinks of how your smile seems even prettier at this time of day. He thinks about the way you pulled back when he asked you to stay. While he knows this isn't exactly the time to fall for someone, he can't help but feel like he's starting to.

He watches you fall asleep in the sand. Your cheeks are red. Your eyelashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks. Your lips are chapped. Mark finds that he wouldn't mind kissing you. Or just simply being by your side.

For a few solitary moments, he doesn't even think about the end. Just the now.)

It feels like you blinked, but when you reopen your eyes you find that time has certainly gone by. Mark is sitting a ways away, stoking a makeshift fire.

"I was a Cub Scout," he says.

"I need a smoke." You go back to the van and pull out a pack and a lighter. Your brain feels fuzzy from having fallen asleep on the beach, and your back itches from the sand that has scratched its way down your shirt. To distract yourself, you lean against the van and take a drag; look up towards the sky.

It's a dark reddish black, some ominous code that the world is definitely coming to an end. Clouds swirl hazily against each other and you can see that a storm seems to be forming over the ocean. Months ago this would've been beautiful. An instagram-worthy shot, a coffee pot topic, and nothing more.

Right now it sends a chill down your spine.

You drop the cigarette and head back to where Mark is sitting. He has some kind of pot out over the fire, and what looks like a can of soup inside. The can itself is tucked neatly in the little box Mark has beside him. You wonder why he cares so much about a planet that's already dead. "Thanks. For, uh dinner."

"Yeah," Mark clears his throat and shifts in the sand. "That's what friends are for."

"We're friends now?" You raise your brow at Mark while he hands you a bowl of soup along with a spoon.

"I sure hope so," Mark quips. "I don't make soup for just anybody."

You laugh at that. Your heart stirs in excitement. Your stomach growls, so you ignore the heaviness in your chest and take a bite of your soup.

That night you fall asleep with a belly full of food and sand down your shorts. It's half-ideal, half-hell, but Mark gives you a hug before the two of you tuck in, so it's okay.

(Mark wants to say that he wishes the two of you were friends a lot sooner, but that would be weird. He's only known you for like, three days. Maybe he's delirious.

But he gives you a hug before you fall asleep anyway. He hopes you can't hear how fast his heart is beating. It's stupid anyway, he thinks.)

Four days left. Give or take. You aren't completely sure to be honest, and that brings on an entire onslaught of horror that you've never really felt before. There's something so terrifying about this whole thing. It's like you've knocked on Death's door, and you have no idea when he's actually going to open it.

Mark hides it well. He drives the two of you down to Hollywood Boulevard.

It's trashed. What was once the walk of fame is now defaced with graffiti, food, trash, and what looks like human feces. You throw up in the fake bushes and Mark pats your back while you do.

"Guess I won't get my picture with Kermit the Frog then," you joke.

Mark's eyes suddenly widen. He grabs his backpack straps. "There's a Kermit the Frog star?"

"Yeah," you laugh at Mark's expression. "My aunt was obsessed with The Muppets. She had a laminated picture of the star in her sewing room."

Mark bites his lip and averts his eyes. "I have a Polaroid. Not much film, but we might could get a few pictures."

The stars have to be cleared first. Mark comes up with the idea to sneak into one of the restaurants nearby and using their cleaning supplies. And since you have all day and nothing to lose, you agree.

The thing about a large and empty place like Hollywood Boulevard, is that every shadow feels like a threat. Memories of dystopian movies come flooding through your memories when Mark hands you a giant broom. You wonder if some evil man with a god complex is going to come and kidnap you both.

But the only people the two of you ever see is a man in a small shop that looks like it contains weed.

You and Mark sweep away as much debris as you can, while avoiding anything that came out of a human body. The graffiti covers a lot of the stars, but after a few hours of walking and sweeping, the two of you find it.

"Kermit," Mark breathes a side of relief before laughing out loud. His laugh is stark against the silence.

You join him anyway. "I can't believe we found Kermit! My aunt would be so jealous right now."

"Your aunt sounds weird," Mark says, no real bite to his remark.

"She is," you confirm. "She's up in Maine somewhere. At least, you know, last I heard."

Mark senses the change in tone and drops his backpack to the ground. He pulls out a baby pink Polaroid camera. He points it at you. "Say cheese, Y/n."

There's your name on his tongue again. That sound itself has you beaming as you lean against the brooms long handle and cock your head to the side. The camera clicks.

Mark takes out the picture and shakes it before he looks at it. "Cute," he says casually, then he tucks it in his shirt pocket.

"I want to see it," you say. You hope that if you don't acknowledge the warmth in your cheeks, Mark won't either.

"Too bad." He sticks his tongue out at you. And before you can retort, he squats down beside the star. "Okay, let's get a picture of this bad boy."

You squat down too. You match Mark's peace sign and smile in the direction of the lens. The camera clicks.

Nothing comes out. "Shit," Mark mumbles to himself. "I guess I had a lot less film than I thought."

You're about to apologize, feeling like maybe you should've put up a bigger fight when he offered to take your picture.

Mark seems to read your mind. That, or he's just too nice for his own good. He pats his shirt pocket and gives you a generous smile. "Worth it, though."

The sky is getting progressively darker as the two of you walk around, occasionally pointing at places you would've liked to go, had the circumstances been different.

You both eat from snacks you find in a convenience store. You take the rest and leave it in the truck. "What should we do now?" Mark asks.

The light from the store across the street flickers. You look at the neon leaf and then back to Mark. "Have you ever gotten high?"

(Mark has gotten high before, and he tells you so. What he doesn't tell you is that the picture in his pocket is getting heavier as the seconds pass. What he doesn't tell you is that this picture may be the only evidence left of you in a few days. Maybe it will disappear with the rest of them. Mark briefly wonders if a fireproof box would work against the end of the world, and whatever that entails.

He wants to tell you that he would immortalize you in a million different pictures if he could. He would show the dying world a million different ways to breathe again.

Instead, he only nods his head. "Yeah, but it's always fun to do again.")

You're positive it's the fact that you've taken one too many hits of whatever joint that weed guy rolled up for you. 'Said it was his best; he was saving it for something special. Since the world is going to hell, he shared it with you.

And now you're in the bed of Mark's van, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the way Mark's lips wrap around the joint. He has a really pretty mouth, you realize, and you want to say it out loud but something heavier takes hold of your chest and you bury it down with all of your other fears and revelations.

Mark coughs. Puffs of smoke blow out into the hot van, and he winces at the smell. "Didn't the guy say this was the special stuff? Why does it still stink?"

You take the joint from him and package it up, hoping to save it for another day (or maybe you just don't want to get so high that you can't focus on Mark's face.)

Mark scrunches his nose and leans back against the cool window of the van. "We should sleep outside tonight. It's too hot in here."

"Under the stars?" you ask. You feel your heartbeat pick up, but it falls just as quickly, and you settle back into the blankets. "Don't wanna move."

"I'll move you," Mark says, a mere whisper against your right side.

You watch him open the trunk. He hops out. "Come on, Y/n. Take my hand."

His hand is warm and calloused and rough and you want to ask him if he can actually play that guitar in the back of his van or if it's just for show. Mark lets you sit on the concrete of the pier. It's warm beneath your skin. Mark parked the van right against the pier, so the two of you could sleep right next to the edge.

While you hang your legs off of the edge, Mark drags the mattress out and pushes it right up to the railing. "Didn't peg you for a stoner."

You grab the blanket he throws at you and lie down on the mattress. "I'm not," you say, no bark to your words. "You're just better at it than me."

"At smoking?" Mark laughs. "I only took one hit. You took, like, four."

"So?" You pout and refuse to return his stare. Instead you try to focus on the stars, and the way their alignments seem off. You wonder if it's the end of the world, or if it's just the weed. "I wish we had more time."

The candor in your voice causes Mark to finally settle down. He lays down. His shoulder brushes against yours, and when his fingers twitch, his knuckles touch yours. It stirs up a gentle longing in your heart. What might be. What never was. You turn to face Mark. "We haven't found your soulmate, yet."

Mark lets out a shaky breath. Something between a gasp and a sigh. He blinks, looks at you like he's indulging, and blinks again. "I don't know if I want to."

(He knows he doesn't want to. Hasn't for a long time now. But your innocent worry has him thinking. Has him wondering how much a soulmate is worth in the end.

He thinks of how you let your guard down when you're high. He thinks of the jolt of electricity that zips down his arm when your fingers touch his. He thinks of your face, so close to his and yet he's so, so afraid of leaning in. Or letting go. Or scaring you away.

Mark doesn't have to find his soulmate. There's no time, and no lead. He thinks that he'd be disappointed anyway.

At the end of all things, he thinks he'd just rather be with you.)

"Where'd you even learn how to siphon gas?" you cough. The air is growing thinner. An estimate of three or four days left, and the air is beginning to fall against the atmosphere like a weighted blanket. Ash and dust rise from the ground, and you keep a bandanna around your nose most of the time.

Mark spits gasoline out of his mouth and shoves the nozzle into his van. "Cub Scouts, remember?"

"Who knew Cub Scouts would prepare you for the end of the world." You kick the van's back tire.

Mark lifts his own red bandanna around his mouth. His jeans are scuffed up from the dirt and grime of the gas station, but the fact that he keeps his shirt tucked in and fastened with a belt is more endearing than it needs to be.

"Too bad I never earned my saving-the-world badge, right?" Mark chuckles. A sad silence follows.

You slip into the passenger seat beside Mark and place your hand over his as soon as it's placed on the gear shift. "What did you want to be? Before the news?"

Mark opens his mouth. Then closes it, laughs to himself and shakes his head. "It's stupid."

"It can't be stupid," you say. "Nothing you like is stupid."

Mark's neck flushes red. "I, uh, want to be a rapper."

"Still?" you whisper.

"Is that pathetic? To pretend the world isn't ending?" Mark lets himself glance at you for a solemn moment.

"I don't think so," you say. "If I've learned anything from you at all, Mark Lee, it's that you're full of hope. That's not pathetic at all."

Mark flips his hand over so that your fingers intertwine with his. "Thanks. You, uh... You've taught me a lot of things too."

"Like what?" You lift your feet onto the dash and squeeze Mark's hand.

"I don't want to say right now."

"Okay." You pull his hand into your lap and run your fingertips over his calloused palms. "Hey, I've been meaning to ask you this, but do you play guitar?"

"Yeah," Mark turns down a neighborhood of beach houses. "Remind me to play for you sometime."

(Mark likes the way you touch him first. He likes that you let him hold your hand. He likes that you pull his hand into your lap. He feels so much peace that for a brief moment, he thinks that if the world were to end right now, off-schedule, he'd be okay with it. He doesn't know how to tell you that you're teaching him to be okay with the end. He doesn't know how to tell you that he finds forever in these small moments with you.)

Mark takes you to his aunt's empty beach house and the two of you move your stuff in. He finds the solar generator, and the two of you take showers for what seems like the first time in awhile. You don't feel like wearing anything, welcoming the generated AC. But, out of respect for Mark, you adorn undergarments and a large t-shirt stolen from his "clean" suitcase. (He has a "clean" suitcase and a "dirty" suitcase, which is another thing you really admire about Mark.)

When you come out of the shower, towel around your neck, Mark is sitting on the corner of the bed. His own towel has been thrown over the window-side wicker chair, covering a starfish pillow.

What startles you is the fact that he isn't wearing a shirt; only a pair of black sweatpants. A pair of glasses you've never seen before are perched atop his nose. They slip down every time he looks towards the neck of his guitar. He strums out a sour chord and scrunches his nose. "Ah," he shakes his head at the instrument. "She needs a good tuning."

You're drying your hands with your towel, eyes hazy and focused on the way Mark's bare shoulders tense every time he strums a particularly bad chord.

Mark Lee is really pretty. His black hair is still damp, and a few droplets fall onto his cheeks. "Here," you rush out, not wanting another distraction in his favor. "Let me dry your hair. You'll get a cold."

Mark sets the guitar aside and you stand between his legs. "What song should I play for you?" He closes one eye and peers up at you with a close-lipped smile.

You hum. Toss the towel over his face so he won't notice how warm your face is getting. You dry his hair off with a few massages. "What's the one that makes you most happy?"

"I dunno," Mark says. "I like Come Back To Bed."

"Then sing that one to me." You toss the towel to the floor. For a moment, you wonder what it would feel like to run your hand through his hair. After all, you did just dry his hair, which is kind of an intimate thing already. But maybe touching it would be crossing the line. Maybe reaching out to tuck that stray hair back behind his ear would reveal too much. Unravel what you've been trying not to show.

But the world is ending, so it's time to have courage. You swallow your fear and reach out. When you run your fingers through his soft hair, Mark sighs in content. "That feels nice."

"Y-Yeah?" you say, because anything else would come out as a squeak.

Mark's eyes are closed. He leans into your touch and when your hand trails down the side of his face, behind his ear, he places a kiss against your inner wrist. "Yeah," he says, breath hot on your skin. "I'm... I'm glad I went into that convenience store a few days ago."

"Me too." You sense the mood drifting, so you sit beside Mark and pat his guitar. "Now play me something."

Mark nods, a big dazed. He picks up his guitar and begins to sing to you, and you think his voice sounds like the hope of a new dawn.

(Mark wants to bottle up the color of your blushing cheeks and paint the sky. He wants to hold you close to him and kiss you breathless. He wants to say so much more than he does.)

Mark makes eggs. You make waffles. They're both a little burnt, but they're made with love, so it's fine. You eat as much as you can, tired of all the convenience store food. "Thank God for your aunt's well-stocked, solar-powered beach house."

Mark giggles. "You know, she was gonna sell it later this year. She wanted to move to the mountains."

"I'm glad she didn't," you say. "This isn't a bad place for... you know."

Mark blinks. Solemnity drowns his face. "She rented a cabin in the mountains. Didn't want to die in the city she was born in. This was the best place I could think of for the end."

"Do you think it will hurt?" You don't want to ask, because it's such a dismal concern. However, you wonder if you're the only one worried about your last moments.

Mark shakes his head. "I think it will be very quick. Like a sneeze."

(Mark wants to say that he's terrified of a slow death. Or dying before you. Of having to watch you die, or leave you alone in this world. He wants to say that he's scared to death and every step feels like a closer one to the grave.

He thinks of telling you, but what difference would it make?)

That night after your shower, you find Mark in the kitchen, washing the dishes. "You don't have to do those, you know."

You wrap your arms around Mark's waist, and as soon as you make contact, he shudders. His body slumps against the sink and he hiccups a sob. "I'm scared, Y/n."

"Mark..." you turn him around as gently as you can and pull him into your embrace. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"Times almost up," he chokes. "We don't know if it will happen tonight or tomorrow– and I don't want to leave you."

He lifts his head from your shoulder and presses his forehead against yours. It feels a bit like the way a cat might ask for a scratch. But it feels more like Mark wanting to be as close to you as he can. From here, you can see his wide eyes magnified from tears. He sniffs.

You bump your nose against his and shift your hands up to his shoulders. "Mark, I think I love you. I know it's too soon, but we don't really have much time anyways, so I thought I should tell you. I know now isn't a good time, and I'm probably being extremely selfish for saying it while you're crying–"

"You're not," Mark blurts just before he kisses you.

He holds your face in his hands and pulls you against him. His lips are soft and smooth against your chapped ones and you like the way his breathing gets heavier when you reach up and twirl your fingers through his hair. "I love you too."

His hands shift to your waist. He backs you up until you hit the counter's edge. "Jump," he mumbles against your mouth.

You jump onto the counter and wrap your legs around Mark's middle, pulling him flush against you as you go to kiss him again.

He kisses bites your bottom lip and when you gasp at the pain, he leans back to smirk at you. The look on his face makes you want to either slap him or melt into his touch. You choose the latter, leaning back as his lips begin to trail down your jaw. "I don't ever want to let you go."

"Then don't," you say.

(Mark thinks having sex and making love are two different things. He thinks your pink shorts look really pretty against the color of your skin. He thinks of the sounds you make, and the softness of your stomach. He thinks of purple marks on your thighs and the way you say his name like it's worth something. Like it means something. He thinks of looking into your eyes and telling you that he loves you. He thinks of kissing your lips and your neck and your chest and your hips. He thinks of you trembling against him. He thinks of cleaning you up and pulling his hoodie over your tired form. He thinks of kissing your forehead and falling asleep to the sound of your heart.

He thinks of the stain glass picture his aunt has in her kitchen right above the sink. A poem about the sun and the moon. A picture of the two kissing. The words ring like an anthem in his head. He thinks maybe soulmates always find each other in the end.)

It happens in the night. You get up to get a drink of water. Your legs are sore but your heart feels warm.

You take small sips in front of the sink and look out of the window. The clouds are dark and red again, but you're distracted by a little hanging picture suctioned to the pane. It's a stain glass picture, painted gaudy blue and gold. You can see the vivid picture of the sun and the moon, fitting against each other like missing puzzle pieces. There's a poem painted in messy scrawl, but you make out the words easily enough.

Tell me what is more beautiful;

The sky seems to get closer.

How the moon lets the sun shine throughout the day.

The air seems to get warmer.

Or the way the sun lets the moon glimmer at night.

The sky darkens, and you close your eyes. You think of Mark alone in the bed and hope he won't wake. You hope he won't know that he has to go alone. You want to run to him, but you know this is nothing but a second on earth, and you're all out of time.

(Mark wakes up when his skin feels like it's scalding. He sits up and notices that you aren't beside him. You're gone, and he knows it's the end, and he knows he'll never see you again, and the thought claws it's way down his throat and breaks his heart from the inside out. And he's all out of time.)

#mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #destwrites

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kinkymankey · 4 years ago

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Shantae: Half-Genie Housewife Part 2

It is just around afternoon, as the whirlwind deposits Shantae down on the pier. In front of her stood her lighthouse home, and even though it was well kept it had the feeling of being dingy. “What a state!” She exclaimed, almost in disbelief. “Looks we have some work to do babies,” she says as she pats her belly. “First, a change of clothes,” she declares as she walks inside.

On her first floor was her kitchen, made up of a stove top, an oven and a couple cabinets, joined with a small table with chairs for a impromptu dining room. Some pots and pans hung on the wall alongside a few shelves, and closer to the door was a dry sink with a few books and decorations on it. A rope hung in the middle of the room, leading to the second floor.

Shantae sighed, taking hold of the rope. “However did I manage?” She began climbing up the rope, and though it was quite an effort, she made it to her bedroom with general ease. “Goodness! I should invest in some stairs. Be safer for the babies anyways.”

She looks around her bedroom, which is quite simple. From where the rope hung, a hammock was set up in front of her on two posts, with some sheets hung on it. Above it was a shelf full of books, and to its side was a short nightstand. A bit aways from it was a large brown wardrobe, though some long clean and dried clothes still hung from lines above the room. A gas lamp hung from the ceiling, and behind her was a open window, which was where the lighthouse used to shine its light from.

“Goodness, what a mess,” she exclaimed to herself, beginning her search for some clothes. Opening her wardrobe, she began sifting through it broadly. “No dresses? What have I been doing? Come on, I must have one...ah, this will do.” She pulled out a yellow flowy dress, with some lighter streak of yellow patterning it. She quickly took off her current outfit, hanging it back up in her wardrobe neatly, and pulled her sole dress she owned; she then undid her ponytail, taking a bandana instead to hold the hair out from her face.

“Hmm, none of these look very comfy,” she mused as she looked through her shoes, neatening them up as she went. “Hmph. Ah well, I’ll just go barefoot for now. Besides, it’s time to tidy up this room a bit more thoroughly.”

She slid down her rope and came back up with a bucket of water and a cloth, going down on her hands and knees to scrub the floor. It was a bit of a struggle, her belly getting quite in the way, but she eventually got the floor to shine.

“Perfect,” she smiled proudly, wiping her brow. Her gaze turned to the window. “I think you could use a little once-over.”

She waddled over and scrubbed up the window, providing a clearer view of the town. “There we go! Much brighter, too.” She pauses to look at her progress, cradling her belly. Her eyes soon drift to her hanging clothes and unmade hammock. She shook her head but smiled. “More work for me.”

She started with her hammock, trying her best to get the sheets as even as she can across it. “I should probably get a bed that isn’t a hammock, especially so close to my due,” she talks to herself as she works. “It’s probably a wreck on my back, anyways.” Finishing that, she moved onto her clothes, pulling them down from the lines. She hung up her day clothes and folded up her pajamas.

“There. Much less cluttered,” she smiled, looking around at her work. Suddenly, a realization hits, and she palms her forehead. “I don’t even have a crib yet!” She exclaimed. “I need quite a bit actually. Should probably get a list together.”

Finding some paper and a pencil, she sits by her window and begins to write. “Let’s see...shoes, dresses, crib,” she mumbles to herself, underlining ‘crib’ in particular. “A bed for myself, probably some new sheets with it, some more baby supplies…”

She looked over her list, and nodded. “That should be it. Looks like I am off to the shops today.” She tucked her list away and carefully began down the rope. Partway down, she catches the stove and oven of her kitchen again. “I guess they could use a cleaning, too,” she assumed, shimmying back up to grab her bucket and rag before finally returning to the ground floor. She also did up the floor, chairs and table as well, since she was down there.

Thinking of which, Shantae checked the cuberts, finding them near bare save for some tea packets, a piece or two of fruit, and a few pieces left of a full loaf of bread. “Oh my! Nothing to eat? No ingredient?” She huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “How silly. Honestly, I can’t believe how silly I was.”

She pulls out her lists and quickly adds all sorts of fruits, vegetables, ingredients and sweets to it. She also added a ‘perhaps’ with a note for a new table and chairs; the one’s she had were fine, but it never hurts to think ahead. Speaking of which, she thought as she looked around her, I need to make things a little safer for the little ones. She stroked her belly, and jotted down ‘baby proofing’ to her list.

As she does that, a knock comes to her door. “Coming!” She chimes sweetly, tucking her list away and waddling to the door.

“Hey, Shan--!” Sky began as the door opened, but seemed to pause and even do a double take. “Shantae?”

“Sky!” Shantae smiled, pulling her friend into a hug. “It’s so good to see you! Come in, come in!”

A bit of a shocked look stuck to the bird keeper’s face, seemingly freezing it as she followed Shantae in. She slowly loosened up as it melted into a look of confusion and hesitance. “Hey, Shantae. Why, uh, why exactly are you wearing a dress like that?”

“Because it’s comfy, silly,” she giggles, heating up the stove and putting a water filled kettle on. “Terribly sorry, I haven’t had a chance to get any food or goodies today, so you’ll have to take your tea on its own.” She sighed.

“It’s cool, I’m not hungry,” she nods slowly and hesitantly. Tea? Why the heck is she serving me tea? “Hey, uh, Shantae. You when I joked, about you going barefoot and pregnant, I, uh, didn’t really think you would.” She laughed a bit awkwardly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She asked genuinely, getting down the teacups and packets. “It makes more sense than going off gallivanting and adventuring all risky like, especially in my condition.” She pulled out a chair for Sky.

Sky blinked, clearly dumbfounded. “D-Didn’t you just head out this morning on an adventure?” She asked as she eased herself into the seat.

“I did, but I came back after I realised what a silly idea that was,” she smiles. “Not alone, though. I had some help from a lovely man out there who set my head straight.”

“Hm. I think you mentioned on your way out that you were heading out to fight that new baron?”

“Yes! And he was ever so polite!” She nodded happily. “He wouldn’t even think of hurting a pregnant lady, and even offered to walk me home. He was very sweet, not like those other barons. He was a good one.”

“Sure,” Sky nodded. Maybe she’s right? Though it doesn’t explain...this. “So, why exactly are you like this now?”

“Since I realized I should be at home, getting ready for these two angels,” she explains, rubbing her belly and looking down at it warmly. “There is so much still to be done before they arrive, Sky.”

“I assume so. And when did this realization strike? Must not have been last night, since you were showing off that bump at the Dance Parlor,” she chuckled in memory.

“Oh, I know,” she hand waved, her face blushing in embarrassment. “It was so showy of me. You won’t find me there again, count on that.”

“What? But you love being there. It’s basically your second home.”

She shook her head, and smiled. “Not anymore. That was old Shantae. New Shantae is focused on making a nice home for her babies.” She beamed with a whole smile.

“Sure,” Sky nodded slowly. Okay, something’s up. “Again, when exactly did you decide you needed to do this?”

“This morning, when I started chatting to the baron.” The kettle was now steaming. Shantae took it off the heat and poured it into two awaiting tea bag laned cups. She carried them over to the table, setting one in front of Sky and one in front of where she now sat.

“Thanks,” she nodded, taking the cup. “So, new baron. A nice guy?”

“So lovely!” She reminisced. “Ever so kind and polite.” She took a small sip of her tea. “Oh, I only had blueberry tea left, by the way. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” she nodded. “Shantae, if I can be real here, I think that baron did something to you. You weren’t even close to this when you were running by this morning.”

“Oh, don’t be so suspicious,” she chuckled pleasantly.

“Seriously, Shantae, I’m concerned. Something clearly happened. What went down out there.”

“Let me recall,” she set down her cup and tapped her temple. “Hmmm...I went in...he didn’t want to fight me…we had a pleasant talk...and then he walked me home.”

“That’s it?” She asked, slightly presingly. “Hold on, you still wanted to fight him when you got there, right?”

“I think I did,” she responded, stroking her belly softly, “but I soon realized that I shouldn’t be out fighting.”

Sky takes a slow sip of her tea. “What about this morning?”

“What about it?” She asked, giving her friend a funny look.

“Humor me, tell me what you did before you went off to find the baron.”

“Lets see...I woke up, put on that terribly skimpy outfit I always wore, and headed out.”

Sky made a weird noise, somewhere between choking and spitting out her tea. “Wait, did you just call your outfit skimpy? The one you wear everyday?”

“You mean the belly dancer clothes? That thing?” She let out a solid laugh. “It was so showy! I don’t know how I ever enjoyed showing off that much skin all the time, especially with how big my tummy is now! I mean, I’m sure you and the others were just waiting for me to put some clothes on, right?”

Sky sat back in her chair, looking at her cheery friend with a dumbfounded expression. “Okay, something is definitely wrong here. That baron guy did...something!”

“You’re being overly suspicious again, Sky,” Shantae laughed slightly, setting a hand on her shoulder. “I just realized what’s really important to me right now.”

Sky looked distraughtly down at her tea. “This doesn’t feel real...doesn’t feel like you…”

“Oh, Sky,” Shantae gave a comforting smile, pulling her friend into a side hug. “I assure you, it is still me. Same old Shantae, just now with her priorities in line. Please, don’t worry about me, for my sake at the very least.”

She was quiet for a minute, before bringing her teacup back to her lips. “Okay,” she nodded after a long sip, and smiled. “It’s still you here. Still my friend.”

“Exactly!” She smiled, squeezing her shoulder.

“I still think I need some time to process this,” she admitted.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I made a big change, I don’t expect you to immediately acclimate to it. I’m glad you were concerned about me, even if there’s nothing to be concerned over.”

“Still…”

“Enough of that, now.” Shantae playfully put her finger to Sky’s lips. “No worries from you, okay?”

Sky could not help but crack a small smile. “Okay,”she responded partially muffled. “Good,” Shantae grinned, pulling her finger away. “Would you like some more tea?”

“No, actually, I, uh, think I need to go,” she replied, downing the last of her tea.

“I understand. You need your space.”

“Hate to leave so soon, but I’m sure you have stuff to prepare for the babies.”

“Yeah, actually,” she chuckled a bit. “Was about to head out shopping just when you popped in.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer.” She got up and headed for the door. “See you later?” She asked, pushing the door slightly open.

“Of course. See you later, Sky.” She gave a small wave as she went to pick up the teacups.

The smile on Sky’s face dropped the moment she closed the door, turning to one of urgency as she dashed off to her hatchery. “Wrech!” She called, waking the purple bird from its stoop. “We need to go! We have people to pick up!”

Back at Shantae’s, the half genie set the teacups gently on the left side of the sink with some of the other dirty dishes. She patted her belly happily. “I’m so glad she’s coming around. Hopefully the others understand just as easily. Now, though, shopping!” She walked over to her door and headed out.

#shantae #shantae half genie hero #half genie housewife #sky #pregnant #pregnancy #housewife

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tsuyoiqueen · 4 years ago

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shout it from the rooftops (tell them all I know) — teen!wangxian

Okay, so first of all, happy new year! I don't know if it's already January 1st where you are but as I'm posting this it's 10 P.M. so let it be said that I finished it before 2021 and will be calling this my last fic of 2020!

This is also the second fic I write for this fandom, so if you're coming from Be My Husband, thank you so much for your support! It means a lot and I hope you like this one as well!

At first, it's not a big deal. Lan Wangji couldn't describe the situation as anything but boring.

He wasn't naive. He knew wandering through Cloud Recesses past curfew and bringing alcohol were not the only rules Wei Wuxian would break. He could tell by the look in his eyes back when they first met. Though, Lan Wangji did give him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he'd wait at least a week to resume his shenanigans.

He was proven wrong and realized there was no limit to that thick faced guy when he caught him drinking with his brother and his friend. He had to keep an eye on him, or the next months would result in more headaches. It was bad enough he had to punish himself after letting his guard down around Wei Wuxian, the first cultivator who seemed to be on his level.

(He would never admit it out loud, but it's true, and maybe part of the reason why he remained tolerant)

—

That night, Lan Wangji left his house an hour before curfew. He ducked behind one of the trees close to the guest disciples' quarters and guarded the place. If getting lectured by the grandmaster didn't stop Wei Wuxian, facing punishment would have even less effect.

An hour goes past and then two, and he wonders if he's exaggerating, the shame in breaking a rule to prevent the dishonor of his clan's motto finally starts taking a toll. Confused, he slowly steps out from his hiding spot, but as soon as he starts walking towards the jingshi, he's startled into action by a noise coming from his left.

It's faint and not enough to put anyone on alert, but Lan Wangji is no ordinary cultivator. He's sharp and wouldn't miss the slightest disruption, so he retreats and heightens his senses, even though it isn't necessary.

A tall figure emerges from one of the guest rooms, sneaking towards the main hall. As the stranger walks, dark hair flutters in the wind, his clothes ripple. When he comes closer, Lan Wangji recognizes the white robe meant for the guest disciples. The person smiles as if he's just hit the jackpot, and though he's still far, Lan Wangji can identify the bottle in one of his hands while the other carries a sword.

He narrows his eyes, gripping Bichen even harder. Wei Wuxian!

Although he's already found the troublemaker, Lan Wangji stands still and waits. Wei Wuxian looks from side to side to make sure he's alone and leaps the rooftop.

The same one from the first night, Lan Wangji notices and feels slightly intrigued about it.

Why would Wei Wuxian come back to the place where he's been caught if he could do it far from Gusulan's scrutiny and in the safety of his quarters? It's not like he knew Lan Wangji was planning to watch him closely. As dedicated as second master Lan was, he would never barge into his room in the middle of the night. The last thing he needed was Wei Wuxian thinking he's been stalking him.

He is not!

He ends up spacing out and barely realizes Wei Wuxian's already comfortably sat on the roof, savoring what he knew to be a drink called Emperor's Smile. Wei Wuxian loves it.

He seems so carefree, Lan Wangji can only furrow his eyebrows, wondering what would be the best way to approach him.

He shakes his head and dismisses that thought immediately. Why should he worry about that? He's there to bring Wei Wuxian to his uncle and make him confess he's breaking the rules, not chat him up!

Drinking and leaving your quarters past curfew are violations of Lan clan principles. Come with me and face punishment. He mentally rehearses, regardless of his previous thoughts.

He heads for the roof, floating calmly, and stares coldly at Wei Wuxian after landing. "Drinking and leaving your quarters past curfew are violations of Lan clan principles. Come with me and face punishment."

Wei Wuxian's so shocked he almost drops the bottle, frowning while he balances his drink in one hand and uses the other to pat his chest, like he's soothing his heart, "Aiya, Lan Zhan! You surprised me! That was good! You almost made me drop my drink again! Though we wouldn't want that, right? After all, you still haven't paid for that first one."

Lan Wangji had been straightforward and clear, but Wei Wuxian hasn't shown any signs of guilt. Perhaps, he should try again, "You are breaking two rules right now. I ask you to follow me."

For some reason, Wei Wuxian laughs, "Have mercy! Don't you think I've been punished enough after all those lashes?" He pouts. Lan Wangji can't avert his eyes for a moment.

Wei Wuxian takes his reaction as pity and rubs his back to remind him of the pain he felt. Lan Wangji isn't the kind to forget easily, but the gesture reminds him of the time spent with the other male at the Cold Pond. A shirtless Wei Wuxian asking Lan Wangji to be his friend flashes through his eyes, and he swallows.

Wei Wuxian doesn't hide how knowing Lan Wangji isn't a complete fuddy-duddy brings him joy, grinning mischievously. He decides to press on, "Lan Zhan, how about this, why don't you drink with me tonight? If you don't want to, you can just keep me company. We're both already breaking curfew."

Lan Wangji realizes his mistake, and his aloof demeanor falters. How can he lecture Wei Wuxian if he's also in the wrong? His ancestors would be ashamed! People who think they can do as they please and expect others to follow their rules are not qualified for the title of Gusulan disciple!

Wordless, he grips Bichen tighter and spins in his heels to go back to his room and sleep immediately. In the morning, he will confess, be punished, and stop minding Wei Wuxian's antics. If being improper is the price to rectify him, he would rather not get involved at all.

He almost leaps away from the roof when an unknown warmth spreads throughout his hand. Dumbfounded, he looks down at his arm, looking for the source of the heat, and he sees it.

He sees Wei Wuxian's hand wrapped around his own, his long fingers clutching Lan Wangji's palm. It'd be easy to free himself or unsheath Bichen and fly back to the ground, but he's unable to move then.

It's embarrassing if said out loud, but it's the first time someone other than his older brother ever holds his hand.

As the meaning of Lan Wangji's own sword's name says, he avoids worldly matters. He doesn't worry about trivialities, such as social interactions or physical contact. Polite as he is, he chooses to greet others with a graceful nod that they always return in kind. No one had ever dared to touch him without permission.

But Wei Wuxian had already proven himself as unordinary, so it was a given that the rumors about how second master Lan was reserved and cold wouldn't affect him as much.

Wei Wuxian whispers, "Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji lifts his head, analyzing the features of his companion thoroughly. Wei Wuxian tugs on his hand, and he assumes he wouldn't let go until he agrees to stay.

It's rash, wrong, and his uncle would come close to qi-deviate if he could see him right now, but Lan Wangji delicately lowers himself and sits cross-legged on the roof.

"..." Wei Wuxian gapes at him, and something inside Lan Wangji melts as he realizes he's astonished. Wei Wuxian's so caught off guard only then he realizes he's still holding his hand, slowly letting go. "Oh, sorry about that, Lan Zhan."

"Mn." Lan Wangji replies, nodding. It's odd how sometimes he shows no signs of concern in bothering Lan Wangji and even so apologizes for meaningless stuff that wouldn't disturb others.

Wei Wuxian's eyes brighten. It's the first time Lan Wangji talked to him without disapproval in his voice.

Wei Wuxian giggles, "I knew you weren't that mean, Lan Zhan! Reconsidering my friendship proposal, huh? Nothing strengthens a relationship like sharing a drink!"

Lan Wangji doesn't say anything, but Wei Wuxian doesn't feel discouraged, "That day when you got punished with me, your uncle looked pissed off. It's hard to read your expression because you always seem bored or annoyed, but that's just your face, right? You must've been sad after being scolded, should've just listened to me and let that night be our secret. No one would get punished."

Lan Wangji wasn't expecting that topic, so he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, expression unfazed, "It is my duty."

Wei Wuxian takes a long sip of his drink and scoffs, "And couldn't you take a day off or something? I didn't know you were Gusulan rules supervisor." He shakes his head, letting out a sound that Lan Wangji understands as disapproval.

A minute passes where none of them say anything but Wei Wuxian doesn't seem to take more than that, "That's why I invited you. You were around past curfew because you thought I'd cause trouble, right?" He doesn't need to answer. "I knew as soon as you realized you're breaking a rule, you'd drag me with you and ask for punishment, but wouldn't that make your uncle angrier? Would you be okay, Lan Zhan?"

Lan Wangji was not expecting that, "..."

Wei Wuxian rambles on, "Back at Lotus Pier, I'm always getting punished." He takes another sip, staring intently at the bottle. "Madam Yu doesn't like me, so she finds any reason to make me kneel in the ancestral hall. It's not like I enjoy getting scolded or driving her nuts, but I'm not the kind of person who can follow the rules all the time. That's just who I am, you know?"

Lan Wangji doesn't know. Wei Wuxian is his opposite in almost every way. Even so, he seems to be waiting for some kind of confirmation, so he nods, "Mn."

Wei Wuxian smiles, the hairs escaping from his red ribbon flow around his face basked in moonlight. Lan Wangji stares.

"I mean to say I kinda get it why you act like this. You don't wanna let your uncle down. You want him to be proud of you, right? I also want to be someone uncle Jiang can take pride in, but I can't change my whole personality for that. He never showed any signs of wanting me to do so either, only asked me to follow the clan's motto: attempt the impossible!"

Lan Wangji likes YunmengJiang's free spirit, and he's glad Wei Wuxian understands somehow.

"Lan Zhan, what's the Lan clan motto?"

Lan Wangji feels his gaze, "Be righteous."

The laugh that comes out of Wei Wuxian could wake up half of the guest disciples if they weren't so far from their quarters. Lan Wangji frowns while Wei Wuxian keeps laughing until he has to wipe tears from his eyes when he's out of breath.

He leaves the empty bottle aside, lifts one of his legs, and lays his head on his knee, staring directly at Lan Wangji, a smile playing on his lips, "It suits you."

Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning, "Mn."

[Read the rest on AO3]

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hobbitsnapes · 4 years ago

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The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 14

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @tyuuniverse)

Summary:Red hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever. (I suck at summary’s)

The smell of burgers and general grease wafted the room as soon as Jason and her stepped in. The sound of workers and people muffling the busy cars right outside. They both took their usual seat in the back, preferring to be there rather than up front. Each Sunday Sandy and Jason took what they call their, ‘dad daughter day’ and went out to eat here. Jason took her to the ever so famous bat burger the day he adopted her, and ever since then they come once a week. Maybe not the healthiest thing they could do, but with all the physical activity they do they never worry. But this night in particular was a special night for them.

They always joked about the red hood hotdog, usually getting it and finding it funny that out of all the foods, they chose a hot dog. Well after almost a year being out alongside Jason on patrol, people started noticing her. She was called ‘the red hoods robin.’ And it was announced the popular food chain would be adding a side dish to the red hood dog, a side of archangel wings. They both laughed as they got them because they were in fact just the wings.

They both sat and enjoyed their respected meals, joking around as they usually do. Both of them enjoying themselves and truly just feeling like a father and his daughter.

They both finish their meals after some time, walking out back to his bike. She turns to him, grabbing her helmet and placing it on. “Hey since it’s still early, wanna go to the pier?” He asks, usually they would only go out to dinner. But they decided to go out earlier than normal, having not to go out tonight due to their promise to spend the day as normal as possible. “Sure, I don’t think I’ve been there before?” She replies, wondering if she had been there before as a child. She isn’t able to recall a time she had been before, possibly during the night with Jason but never during the day when she was able to see.

And that’s where they spent most of their day. The pier hadn’t been that large but they made do. They threw rocks, watched as all the many boats swam by, and walked around. As the day grew to evening, and the already cool air became more noticeable, the chill in the air swam around their clothes, they decided to head home.

Never did they think walking into the once lonely and blank apartment that they now called home, would look like it did now. The walls that once were blank that held photos, now all torn to shreds. Glass and wood Scattered around the floor.the wood coffee table they just got, broken into shards of wood. Their tv broken on the ground. Their couch, cut up to pieces. Everything they had built, broken.

Shock and disbelief filled them along with a dick feeling in their stomach. Their hearts dropping but accelerating as it set in. Someone has found them.

Jason turns to her, tears filling her eyes, handing her his gun. “Go look in every room. If you hear anything, scream as loud as you can.” She nods her head, grabbing the gun and slowly walking out of the living room.

Jason looks around the room, looking for any clue whatsoever of who could have done this. And Jason got his answer, Nestled in between the cracked floorboards near the broken couch. Horror filled him as his stomach and heart felt as though they both would expel from his body.

He grabs for his phone, dread filling him as sweat beads down his forehead. This goes against everything he’s built up to do in the last 3 years. His mind screaming at him not to do this. That it’ll only end in pain. But that one voice, the one that screamed at him the moment he saw her over the ledge, the one who screamed at him to help her, the one who told him to protect her, made the answer for him as he dialed the memorized number.

“Hello? Who is this?” Said Bruce, jason's heart dropping into his stomach. Feeling panic rise up to his neck. Bruce asked who is it again, an edge to his voice now. Jason lets out a shaky breath, he has to do this, for her. “This is the last number I thought I’d call. But this is my only option I have.” “J-Jason? I-I how did you rem-” “don’t you remember a part of my training was to memorize this number. I couldn’t forget it if I tried. Now cut the crap with the shock bruce. I, have to ask you for something.” “What is it?” Jason swallowed the pit forming in his throat. “Our apartment, it was broken into. Everything, and I mean everything, is broken. I sent her to go search around here and out back. I-I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought I could protect her. But I know I can’t. Not by myself. It-it’s bad Bruce. I need her to stay there for a while, I can’t be out there trying to figure out what to do whilst also trying with everything in me to protect her. We’ll be there in an hour. If we aren’t there by 10, come looking for us.” “I’ll have alfred ready one of the rooms. But Jason, what about her and-“ “I’ll talk to her. I’m one of the only people she’ll listen to.” Bruce sighs. “See you in an hour.” Jason hangs up the phone, ready for the hell he's about to walk into.

“Did you find anything?” Jason asks as he steps into the room. Tears filling his eyes as he sees her once beautifully decorated room, torn upside down in shambles. “I didn’t, it’s like they wiped everything clean of evidence. Hey, what’s wrong dad?” It’s as if they are so in tune with one another that they can read by just their face that there’s something wrong. Her big blue eyes wide as she looks at him. He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to do this. But there’s nothing else I can do.” “What is it?” She asks, putting her hand on his arm. “I know I’ve always said how strong, and capable you are. And you always will be. But, this is something even I’m scared of. I, I need you to stay at the manor for a while.” Her once worried face, turns to disbelieve and anger. “What? You can’t be serious dad. Don’t you remember he’s-“ “yes. I know he’s there. But this isn’t a debate. I can’t be out there looking around and finding out who did this.” Anger bubbles up her throat. Her hands shaking by her sides. “And I’ve been fighting alongside you for over a year. And I went under the radar for another year on the streets. Do you have ANY idea how much it’ll hurt to live there with him there!” “AND DONT YOU THINK IT HURTS ME TO PUT YOU THERE!? Don’t you think it makes my blood boil to have to stay under the same roof as the boy who broke my daughters heart? Don’t you think I’d do ANYTHING to find another place to bring you? I would’ve already done it if I could. These people aren’t just regular robbers. They found out our identity, found where we live, and recanted this entire place. For all we know they could’ve bugged the entire building! I’d do anything to keep you from them. But I know that they are our best option to make sure we both aren’t killed. I know you’re smart, I know you're strong. But at the end of the day, you aren’t my partner. You’re my daughter. And I’m your father. And I love you and I know that this is the safest place on the earth for you right now. I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other option sandy.” Tears fell down both their faces. Realization dawning on both of them what has to happen. She hugs him tightly. Clutching to him as they both cry. “When do we leave.” She asks. “We need to be there by 10. I need you to pack essentials and be at the back door in 10 minutes. Grab only what you need. I’ll bring you up everything else in a few days.” Tears fell down her eyes into his shirt. “Okay.”

The air in the car is thick as they drive down the road. Jason has an emergency car down in a storage shed a block away from their apartment. Exactly for situations like these. Tears fell down both their faces, neither speaking a word. Their hearts and stomach falling the further they go.

The thick trees surround them, a dark blanket of darkness coats the area that the headlights can’t reach. Smooth pavement creating a steady drive the closer they get. Their tears had dried by now. But the ever growing anxiety growing in both of them as the y’all manor looms over the tall trees. Growing larger the closer they get.

Lights illuminate from the windows into the dark night. The tall building high up into the sky as they stop. She had seen plenty of photos of the ever so popular but private estate. But it’s as if the photos were nothing but a mear copy of the truly beautiful building. But that didn’t stop the feeling of vomit growing up their throats the longer they look at it. They turn to one another. Tears filling their eyes again. “Alright, lets go.”

The sound of their boots clicking along the brick ground the only sound as they approach the double doors. They step up to it, Jason reaching his hand out to the door handle before it was opened. An elderly man dressed in a suit answered. A faint smile etched on his face when his eyes met Jason. “Welcome. Master Bruce and everyone is down in the cave waiting for both of you.”

The long hallways were dark, only being lit through the doorway leading into the Library.

The room was nothing but from a fairytale. Long and tall bookshelves filled to the brim lined all the way up to the ceiling. Every inch of the walls were filled with a book.

Jason and sandy walked over to one book in particular. It wasn’t bright in color, or new or old looking. Just an ordinary book. But when Jason pulled it, a rumble was heard from the bookshelf.

A doorway was opened, like one of those secret passageways in a castle.

The walk down the many steps was dark, saved only by a light at the end of it. Their feet padded against the stairway the only sound to be heard, besides the loud beating of their hearts. The pair looking at one another when they reached the last step.

The large cave was filled with computers, a few tables, glass casings, and much more. 6 people stood in the middle of it. Sandy only recognizing 2.

Damian watched as her and Jason walked in, her eyes flashing to his but just as quickly darting away. A pain shot through his chest at the obvious pain in her face when she looked at him. Her eyes flashing pain and shining with unshed tears before going back to normal when she looked at jason. Jasons eyes bore into both Damian and Bruce’s. His stare burning when he looked at Damian.

Jason let out a large sigh as he looked at everyone. What he once called his family, now almost complete strangers staring at him like he has 3 heads. “I’m guessing Bruce already told you guys what happened. Correct?” He asks, everyone nodding their heads. “I’m gonna be honest. You guys are the last fucking people I want her to be around. If I could, I’d erase every single one of you from my memory. But, I know there’s no other option I have to keep her safe. So for a while, she’ll be staying here. But that doesn’t mean you can recruit her to be a part of this, team.” Jasons eyes bore holes into Bruce when he said this. “Sandy is very strong, stronger than you’d think. She’s smart. Don’t underestimate her. Now, there’s some rules I have for you all in regards to her. Just because she isn’t a part of your team, doesn’t mean you don’t watch out for her. After all she is new to this still. But that doesn’t mean you baby her. Trust me on that. You’ll treat her with respect. Anyone having a bad day and decides to take it out on her, and I find out, you’ll be dealing with me. And above all, you.keep.her.safe. You all have done a horrible job at it in the past. But if she EVER gets hurt, either by one of you or what you didn’t do, I’ll make what I did to him look like child’s play.” Jasons eyes burned into Damian when he said this. His eyes burning with hatred and anger at him.

“This will be your room, Miss Todd. I hope it’s to your liking.” Says Alfred. The room was lavish. The size alone was larger than her and Jasons living room. A large plush queen size bed in the middle of it. A large bay window out looking into the front yard. Covered by silk blinds. The floor was a dark oak, but mostly covered by a large dark brown rug. A table that could fold into a vanity sat in the corner by the bathroom. Right next to it was a door leading to a large closet. A small nightstand stood beside her bed on each side.

She turns to Alfred, her eyes searching into his. “Thank you. It’s lovely.” “I do apologize, this is one of the only rooms on this flooring. It is 3 doors down from master Damians room. If you would like I could ready a room upstairs if you are uncomfortable.” “No thank you, as long as I don’t have to walk past his I’ll be fine. Thank you for asking though.” “It’s not a problem miss. Dinner was served earlier, I could come and bring you some if you are hungry.” Her eyes looked into his again, a soft warm smile painted on his face. “I’m honestly not that hungry for anything right now. With everything that’s happened today, I’d honestly rather just go to bed.” She looks away and sets her bag onto her bed. “As you wish miss Todd. And just so you know.” He sets his hand on her shoulder. “If you need anything, there’s a button and speaker right by your bed. It’ll ring to me if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, even just to talk. You are just as welcome here as everyone. That includes your father too.” His eyes looked into her tear filled ones. A smile formed on her face. “Thank you Alfred. I really appreciate it.” He walked away from her and to the door. Wishing her a goodnight.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne imagine #older!damian wayne #damian wayne #batman #batfam x reader #batfamily #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake #dc #dc imagine #dceu

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ragingbookdragon · 5 years ago

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Even In Different Lives, We Always Find Each Other PT. 4

A Connor Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 1,659 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Woo! I wrote two parts in one day! We cool, we cool! Enjoy! -Thorne

The gentle sway of a ship wasn’t something uncommon to her; she’d spent more than a few days aboard the Aquila with Connor, not that they spent their time swaying gently. But this ship? Her father’s ship? It felt unknown because it was unknown. She resisted the urge to keep pacing around the captain’s cabin, resisting even more to snooping through his things. Even if it would give her answers, it still felt wrong. He’d left some time ago to fetch a doctor, since she’d absolutely refused to go to one, insisting she was fine. However, with each passing second, he grew more unconfident about her state, finally making a deal that if he brought her somewhere comfortable would she see a doctor. She agreed, and here she sat for the last hour. Naivety on her part wondered what was taking him so long, experience told her that he was searching for a doctor they could trust. Likely a doctor for the templars. Just as the thought crossed her mind, the doors to the cabin opened up, and in came her father, followed by a man that made her blurt out, “Benjamin Church?” The doctor smiled as he entered the cabin.

“I’m glad to see you remember me Miss (Y/N). Even more so to see you’re alive.” She blinked, still a bit stunned, because she very much so remembered watching Connor kill him. She quickly hid it, nodding along.

“As am I, sir.” Shay walked over to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” (Y/N) offered him a satisfied nod, replying,

“I’m feeling a little better.” Trying to make the situation lighter, she quipped, “Not everyday you escape your execution.” Though Benjamin and she laughed, Shay didn’t, a frown spreading across his features. (Y/N) cleared her throat, adding, “Anyways, Mister Church, I assume you’re here for me.” He nodded, walking over to her.

“Master Shay said you took a nasty wound to the head that’s resulted in some state of amnesia.” She tossed a quick glare at her father, who seemed unperturbed by it, offering his own mocking look; she glanced back at Benjamin and said,

“It’s not that serious sir.” An unconvinced expression crossed his face and he looked to Shay who muttered,

“She thinks Haytham Kenway is a templar.” (Y/N) couldn’t fight the sigh that left her mouth and Benjamin remarked,

“So, it’s not a case of amnesia, but one of altered memories?” She shook her head, holding up a hand, to correct,

“No, I remember things, it’s just…it’s just-” He cut her off with a flurry of questions.

“Who’s the current king?”

“King George the Third is the King of England.”

“What’s the year?”

“Seventeen-eighty-four, one year after the revolutionary war.” Their brows furrowed at her words and he asked curiously,

“Who won the revolutionary war?” The way he gave her the inquiry made her pause, and she opened her mouth, but nothing seemed to come out other than an unsure,

“The…patriots?” Benjamin shared a glance to her father, before tipping his head. They turned, discussing something, but she listened carefully.

“I’ve not seen anything like this sir. She answered the first question well, but the others…” He trailed off and her father added,

“Distorted memories?” Benjamin nodded and (Y/N) grunted, banging her heel against the bed frame, causing them to look back at her.

“Hey, if you’re going to talk about me like I’m crazy, at least do it where I can’t see or hear. I’d like to preserve some sense of dignity.” The doctor fumbled for words, but Shay eased,

“(Y/N), we don’t think you’re crazy, but you’re remembering things that have not and have never happened.” She met his gaze and he knelt beside her, gently taking her hands in his. “The revolutionary war ended in seventeen-seventy-seven, and the Crown won. We saw to this.” To say she was shocked was to say the least and it obviously showed on her face because Benjamin stepped over, placing a hand on Shay’s shoulder.

“Sir, might I suggest letting her read up on the reports to right her memories? I think telling her might only disturb her state more.”

“You mean she needs to see it herself to believe it again.” He nodded and Shay sighed, squeezing her hands. “I understand.” The doctor smiled at her, politely stating,

“I’ll also need to check out the wound on your head.” (Y/N) waved him off, remarking,

“There’s no need. It’s not an open wound. It’s internal.”

“Miss (Y/N)-” A flicker of irritation simmered inside her and she bit out,

“I’m. Fine.” He pursed his lips, but tipped his head and Shay said,

“Benjamin, I’ll show you out.” The two left and (Y/N) stood from the bed, hands immediately rising to grip her head, palms pressed tightly to her temples as if it would find whatever it was she was missing. As she walked to the side of the cabin, she caught sight of a few pieces of parchment nailed to the wall, prompting her to step closer and examine them. Children’s drawings, but with her signature and initials in the corner. A sad smile crossed her lips as she looked at the one in the middle, obviously a poorly drawn picture of her father and her holding hands. Footsteps sounded beside her, followed by his low voice. “You drew that when you were six.” (Y/N) didn’t look back at him, simply letting out a low hum. “It’s my favorite one next to the one you drew of me in my whaler suit.” Shay chuckled. “It’s still surprising that you’re the reason we don’t go hunting at sea anymore.” At that, she turned her head, gazing at him.

“Beg pardon? My fault?” He nodded, a grin on his lips as he retold,

“We’d anchored the ship one day when we saw a killer whale to hunt.” His lips pulled into a small smile. “You watched the entire time from the side of the ship, but when you realized what we were doing, you started screaming for me to stop.” (Y/N) frowned and retorted,

“Well…they’re living animals.” Shay huffed a laugh, nodding his head.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” He looked at her. “When we came back aboard you cried all evening and told me I couldn’t hunt sea animals anymore.” A smile of her own grew and she glanced back at the wall.

“And it worked, I see.”

“It did.” They fell into a silence, and she muttered,

“I’m sorry I can’t seem to remember what’s happened.” Shay didn’t respond for a moment, then he questioned,

“…How much do you remember?” (Y/N) felt her jaw loosen and she shrugged unsurely.

“I…I don’t even know if what I know is what really happened.” She looked at her father, and for a moment, he seemed so alien to her. “I know things. I know about life and all it’s ups and downs, I know all my training and skills, I know about the templars and assassins, but…” A haunted look came across her and she whispered, “But I don’t remember this,” she gestured to the wall of drawings before looking at him sadly. “And I don’t remember you.” (Y/N) could tell the words did more than hurt him, but she figured honesty was needed in a situation like this. “I’m sorry if that hurts you…dad…but…it’s the truth.” He was quiet for a minute, then he took a step towards her gently placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to look at him. When she did, he murmured earnestly,

“Then we’ll help you remember.” She tried to smile, but the more she tried, the more a grimace formed, and Shay squeezed her shoulders, adding, “But you need to get some rest.” He pulled away, nodding to the bed. “I still have things to take care of. You can rest here if you’d like.” (Y/N) shook her head, asking,

“Is it okay if I go for a walk? I think I need some fresh air.” His features turned hesitant and he advised,

“I’m not too keen on you going out after what just happened.”

“Why?”

“Well, you almost died. We’ve received reports that Achilles has multiple assassins hunting you down. You’re a walking targ-” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes, challenging,

“I can take care of myself.” Shay fixed her with a hard stare, countering,

“I know you can. Be that as it may, I don’t want you leaving the pier unless I tell you to.” She sighed, wanting to argue, but she couldn’t deny that his words had some ground. She might be in Boston, but this Boston wasn’t hers, wasn’t what she was used to. If she wanted to get out and back to Connor, she’d need to brush up on who the templars and assassins were in this world, and who could help her get out. (Y/N) waved a hand sending him off.

“Point taken.” Shay gave a satisfied nod and she asked, “Benjamin mentioned reports I could read over.” He pointed to a shelf and she glanced at it.

“Those are all the reports we’ve filed in the past few years.” He waved a finger. “Blue spines are high profile reports on assassins, red spines are informants and members of the templars. You might want to look those over.” (Y/N) nodded and looked back at him.

“Got it.” Shay smiled at her, reaching up to rest a hand on her head, lightly, he patted her.

“You’ll be okay (Y/N). Just take some time to rest.” Returning his smile with a less than cheerful one he hugged her before pulling away, heading for the doors. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Remember,” he warned. “Don’t leave the pier.” Sarcasm rolled over her tongue, but she locked it, replying,

“Yes sir.” When the door shut, she turned to the books and muttered, “Alright, which one of you will tell me how to get out of Boston.”

#connor kenway imagine #connor kenway imagines #connor kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader imagines #connor kenway x reader imagine #connor kenway #Ratonhnhaké:ton #assassins creed imagine #assassins creed imagines #assassins creed 3 #ac3 #haytham kenway #shay cormac

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jeongyunhoed · 5 years ago

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You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: I hope this lives up to the first two chapters! I hope this lives up to the rest of the chapters. I tried my best in this one, so I hope you all like it.

III. Midnight Voyage (Hongjoong)

It was an hour until midnight that a taxi pulled up in front of the harbor. Wind and fog swept into the place, the fog so thick it nearly covered the facility where the tickets were usually purchased. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk to take out the luggage belonging to Kim Hongjoong and his wife. The two of them married at a young age after she was found to be pregnant with his child. Hongjoong, who was at the height of his success as a multi-award-winning music producer, proposed to her and they married shortly after.

It had been six years since they were married and yet, the atmosphere between them was as cold as the gusts of wind that hit them. “Well, we’re here, I can’t believe we’re finally doing this” His wife said excitedly, choosing to lighten the mood between them.

Hongjoong looked indifferent and reluctantly paid the taxi driver, following her into the building where they had to claim their tickets. Getting the tickets was hard enough, he thought, as when they were trying to book a trip, the travel agent seemed hesitant to give them the particular cruise that they were to board. But his wife had insisted, as the travel agent revealed to them that the ship they were to board, the Madame Butterfly, was a very old ship that had some historical significance that Hongjoong didn’t pay enough attention to find out about. If it were up to him, they would’ve been at the airport, but no, his wife wanted a few extra days on a ship.

“Are you two sure you want to ride the Madame Butterfly?” The travel agent who booked their trips was present, reluctantly giving them their tickets.

“Yes, can you please stop asking if we’re sure?” Hongjoong snapped, taking the tickets from the table.

“Oh don’t be so moody, we’re going on a long, overdue trip, and you’ll finally have some time to relax for once, please try and enjoy yourself” His wife nudged him as they took their leave, heading straight to the pier and watching the crew bring out the ramps and the stairs for them to board the ship.

“There is no time for me to relax, not when I have several people counting on me to produce the music that I’ve won awards for,” Hongjoong pointed out, his tone as cold as ever as they lugged their baggage towards the ramp.

“They will still be there when you get back, and you haven’t had a proper break ever since our son was born,” His wife snapped back at him.

“I’m sorry if I have to make the money otherwise how am I supposed to pay for our kid’s schooling?” Hongjoong argued.

“You have more than enough money, I also have money, that’s what being married is about, we have to work together, you seem to forget that we have to work together on that,” She countered. “Come on, let’s get on the boat and once we set sail, we should focus on having a good time, hmm?” She eyed him. Hongjoong said nothing and instead followed her.

The two of them skidded to a halt when an elderly couple stopped them. “Excuse me? Where are you two going?” The man asked them.

“We’re going to board the ship,” She said.

“Are you really?” The elderly woman, his wife, suddenly spoke.

“Yes, we are, we even have the tickets” Hongjoong held up his and his wife did the same.

“You must be mistaken, the Madame Butterfly has a special cruise tonight” The woman replied.

“It’s a private cruise-a private party!” The man’s voice was raised.

“This ship is old, my dears, it’s falling apart” The woman said.

“Then why would it still be going on its last cruise if it’s falling apart?” His wife asked.

“We’re saying that this cruise is not something you would like to go on” The man insisted. “Okay, we’re prepared to pay you twice the amount of money you paid for the tickets,” He took out a checkbook.

“No deal” His wife shook her head.

“Why not make it ten times the amount?” Hongjoong asked, with a brow raised.

The man stopped. “I...I don’t have that kind of money. But still! This is a private cruise and the ship is falling apart, you wouldn’t want to board her”

“And we’re going to be part of the cruise anyway, excuse us, come on, let’s board the ship” Hongjoong insisted, trying his hardest not to snap at the couple, nudging his wife to go ahead.

The Madame Butterfly indeed looked old, as if it was a ship that transported people back in time to the 1920s. Hongjoong and his wife were given strange looks by the crew that was present, and stern looks from the captain, whose name was Song Mingi, and perhaps the only other person who was around their age. Even when they were shown the safety procedures in case of an accident, the two of them were met with strange looks from their fellow passengers. It was as if they didn’t belong there, and it did feel like they were the odd ones out, but this was the ship they boarded and the cruise they took.

They were shown to their room that was in keeping with the entire motif of the ship, a bedroom straight out of a 1920s movie or scene. “This is a nice place, 1920s isn’t so much my kind of era, but the bed seems soft” His wife sat down on the edge, pulling her luggage closer while Hongjoong made a beeline for the closet to unpack and place some of his clothes in. “It’s like I’m back in time, back to those glamorous parties, the flappers, the jazz music” She lay down and sighed comfortably.

“A lot of elderly folks on this boat, huh, no wonder they like going on a cruise here” Hongjoong commented.

“This reminds them of a time close to when they were born, I guess” His wife replied, getting up to unpack her things as well. “Let’s go for cocktails in the bar.”

“You know I can’t handle my liquor” Hongjoong pointed out.

“That’s never stopped you before. Come on, just one drink and you can go back to whatever it is you plan on doing,” His wife shot him a glance. “You seem to forget I’m your wife, and I love you, and because I love you I will make sure you don’t overdo yourself with the alcohol.”

“I must’ve forgotten when you started acting like an overbearing caretaker” Hongjoong snapped.

His wife stared at him. “I hardly even see you anymore, I hardly ever get to talk to you anymore, and you try and throw that to my face? I’m trying to make this a good trip for both of us. Do you realize that we haven’t been away on vacation together at all? Has six years of marriage meant nothing to you?” She couldn’t believe what she heard from him. “Fine. If you insist, I’ll go grab a cocktail on my own,” and she stormed out the room, slamming the door behind her.

Hongjoong groaned and kicked his luggage to the side in frustration. She doesn’t understand, he thought to himself, getting ready to follow his wife.

He arrived at the ship’s bar several minutes later, having freshened up before following his wife. Hongjoong spotted her having tea with the elderly couple that tried to stop them from boarding the ship earlier. “Oh, we were just about to invite you two for tea but it seems like we didn’t need to when we saw her enter” The woman gestured to the vacant seat next to her husband.

“We must apologize for our first encounter,” The man spoke. “It’s just that the Madame Butterfly hasn’t had any new faces in 15 years. This is her last two-way cruise before she gets retired.”

“So all of these people-” His wife asked.

“Have been on here several times before, they’re now enjoying a farewell cruise of their own, the last hurrah before she turns in permanently if you will. That’s why there’s so many of us old people aboard,” The woman smiled as she drank her tea. “We’ve been married for over 50 years and counting.”

“And we have her to thank for keeping our love alive, hmm?” The man grinned, wrapping his arm around her.

Hongjoong and his wife didn’t dare look at each other. “I’m very envious. A lot of couples don’t last very long nowadays,” His wife suddenly said, and he could tell she was looking at him while she said it.

“...I already promised to go with you on this trip, didn’t I?” Hongjoong said.

“Well, I’m tired of asking for your time, I’m tired of having to ask to spend time with you when you and I both know very well that you’d rather be around your awards and trophies-”

Hongjoong slammed his fist on the table. “You don’t understand what it’s like working all day and all night trying to produce great music-”

“All day, all night, what’s the difference, you always say you’ll take some time off, you always say you’ll take a break for me, for our son, but you never do once you win another award at those year-end shows. It’s been like that for years since we got married and had our honeymoon, we’ve never even slept-” His wife stopped, realizing that they were quarreling in front of the couple. “I’m so sorry.”

“Now, now, you two have to enjoy yourselves, this is a time for romance, a time to value each other’s company now more than ever,” The woman tried to calm them both down.

“Yes, exactly. We’ve been thinking it over ever since the ship departed, and we realize that you won’t need to leave the ship after all” The man said.

Hongjoong and his wife stopped, turning back to them. “That’s-that’s a relief, and then we thought we probably had to swim back to the pier, we must be a long way away by now,” He said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh no, no, no, I mean, we realized that everything is probably settled now, you know, after meeting with the captain, have you met him?” The man asked, and they shook their heads. “Ah, well, that might not be important, everything’s fine.”

“Wait, what do you mean by everything is settled?” Hongjoong asked.

The woman smiled. “What my husband is very inarticulately trying to say, is that you won’t need to die after all,” and she passed the platter of sandwiches towards them.

“...What?” Hongjoong and his wife looked completely taken aback.

“I said you won’t have to die after all” The woman repeated.

“She means, aboard the ship” The man spoke this time.

“They still don’t understand what we mean” The woman nudged her husband. “But surely you probably did, otherwise why else would you pick the Madame Butterfly.”

Hongjoong sat back. “I think I’ll get us drinks.”

“Good! I’ll have scotch” The man said.

“None of me thank you” The woman shook her head.

“Okay, what about you?” Hongjoong turned to his wife.

“None for me,” and he walked off. What did they mean about them not having to die after all? Hongjoong pondered on their words as he ordered the drinks at the bar, the elderly bartender giving him a strange look as well.

Hongjoong returned, overhearing his wife and the couple talking about what made the ship so special and how all the elderly couples on board were married for decades “It used to be a wedding barge for couples. Everyone was married when they went on a cruise on the Madame Butterfly,” The woman smiled upon recalling. “Of course, everyone was nervous but you can be sure that by the next morning, they’d be inseparable.”

“Love isn’t easy, and what is easy isn’t love” The man mused.

“Nowadays, I do have to agree, life is too fast-paced nowadays, you either keep up or get left behind, become obsolete, all of that,” The woman frowned.

“People don’t know how to relax anymore, take it slow, focus on what matters most,” The man sounded almost indignant.

Hongjoong glanced at his wife, who was getting teary-eyed. He was feeling uncomfortable with how their conversations have turned out. “I’m sorry, I was just very moved by what you said,” She told the man.

“Maybe you two should get some fresh air? The sea air should do you some good especially after the tension you two had earlier,” the woman suggested.

“That’s...a good idea, a very good idea” Hongjoong got up, helping his wife out of her chair and the two of them went out to the deck. What the couple told them seemed to strike a chord in him, only he couldn’t admit that it did. A gust of cold wind hit the ship, making the two of them close their coats and rub their shoulders.

“Go on, let me hear it, let me hear you blame me for this whole trip, for making you uncomfortable,” His wife said, looking out. She didn’t dare look at him, and he knew that she knew it.

Hongjoong turned to lean against the deck. “This ship, the more I’m here, the weirder I feel,” He said, looking down. “What did they mean about us dying? What’s that abou-” He looked up, and to his surprise, his wife had vanished.

Hongjoong felt his heart race, and he looked down onto the ocean. There was no sign of her anywhere. She couldn’t have jumped, otherwise he would have seen it, he thought. He hurried into the other parts of the deck, but to no avail. He suddenly saw the man and the woman come down from the tea room. “Hi, have you seen my wife?”

The man and the woman looked at each other and back at him. “What do you mean?” They asked.

“She’s gone, she’s gone and I don’t know where she is, she was next to me one moment and then she suddenly vanished and I don’t know, she couldn’t have jumped overboard” Hongjoong was trying to stay calm, but panic was evident in his voice.

“She’s probably just around here somewhere, she’ll turn up if you look hard enough” The woman advised, but Hongjoong had taken off.

He approached the nearest crew members in the billiard room. “Have you seen my wife? She’s young like I am” He asked.

“Sorry sir, we haven’t” They replied.

Hongjoong ran up and down the ship, checking the public rooms for a sign of his wife. How could she have disappeared and all so sudden? He stopped by the stairs to compose himself. He was getting worried. If anything happened to her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He closed his eyes, trying to think of where she might be. Knowing her, the last place she would be would be at their room, as it probably reminded her of how long it has been since they last got intimate with each other. He had been so caught up with his work that the gravity of her words only hit him just then. How he had all the time in the world to make music, yet he couldn’t find the time to be with his family. He hardly knew what his own son was up to. He buried his face in his hands, trying not to let his own emotions get the better of him. He wasn’t one to cry in public.

“Still couldn’t find her?”

Hongjoong looked up to see the man standing next to him. He shook his head. “I looked everywhere.”

“She’ll turn up. You look like you’re in need of a drink to calm your nerves, let’s go to the bar” The man guided him back into the tea room. “You’ve just been missing her” He glanced at Hongjoong as they sat down on the stools. “She’ll know you do, and it’s getting dark, she’ll be back in your arms tonight”

“To the Madame Butterfly!” One of the elderly men stood up, raising his glass. “May she always sail forever, even if she won’t be able to” He slurred the latter before taking a big drink and throwing his glass into the fireplace. The rest of them did the same except for Hongjoong, who still held onto his glass.

He looked at the wedding ring on his finger, and felt around his pockets for his phone. “Used to your phone ringing?” The man noticed him again.

Hongjoong nodded. “I realized that my wife was right. By now people at work would’ve been calling me, and when I told them I was going on a cruise, they surprisingly respected it.”

“Maybe because they knew you needed this, knew that you needed to focus on what mattered the most” The man gave him a knowing look.

“What matters most to me, I’ve neglected all this time, for years I’ve brushed it off. I learned that lesson the hard way” Hongjoong stared at his glass.

“It’s not too late, Mr. Kim Hongjoong,” The man smiled. “You still have time.”

Hongjoong returned to their room and opened the lights. He felt like another drink was needed to cope with the fact that he couldn’t find her. Yet there was something about what the old man said that he still had time. But how could he when his wife was gone?

“Hey handsome”

He whipped around to see his wife, standing in the doorway, wearing an old-fashioned nightgown. “The woman we talked to gave it to me, she said she wore it on their honeymoon years ago. How do I look?” She was smiling, turning around for him once.

A big smile appeared on his face. Overcome with emotion, Hongjoong went up to her, took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. He pulled away. “Where were you? I was looking all over for you?” He whispered against her lips.

“I was right here, Joong,” She whispered back and he kissed her again. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never felt better” Hongjoong kissed her again and again, and rested his forehead on hers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being an asshole all these years. I was just so focused when things at work were going so well-”

“Shhh” She put a finger to his lips. “I get it, and I get you, I’ve always understood you”

“I want to make things right” Hongjoong kissed her again, more passionately than before. He took his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s not let this disturb us for the rest of the day” He put his phone on the side shelf and backed her into the bedroom, the two of them making up for lost time together.

There was a knock on the door the following night. Hongjoong and his wife were dressed to attend the party that was being held at the ballroom. “I’ll get it” He said, making his way to the door and opening it, only to stand back when he saw the captain holding a gun towards him. “Y-yes?” He said, putting his hands up.

“I’m sorry to say that you will be brought off this ship, please gather your things” He said.

“Is there a reason why-Did we do anything wrong?” Hongjoong kept backing away the more the captain stepped forward.

“No, not in the least. But your presence has reminded us, that while our journey is ending, yours is just beginning, and it’s with that reason that we decided that you two are to be brought off the ship” The captain replied.

Hongjoong noticed his nametag. “Captain Song Mingi, I-” He felt the engines stop. His wife appeared and backed away as well upon noticing the gun.

“There’s no time to explain, and if the couple you two were meeting with had explained to you sooner, I wouldn’t need to explain why I’m here with you,” Captain Song replied. “We have contacted the nearest coast guard, told them where you two will be, the boat is ready.”

“You still won’t tell us exactly why you plan on kicking us out of here?”

“That’s all the explanation you need”

They approached the deck, followed by the rest of the elderly passengers including the man and the woman. “There’s food, water, light, all the provisions you need in the boat. All that is left is for you to get in and we’ll be on our way” The captain told them, his tone a little calmer.

“But we haven’t done anything to you people” Hongjoong said, reluctantly getting up. “You don’t seem to understand-”

His wife turned to the woman, who gave her a knowing look. She turned back to her husband. “Joong, I think they do,” She said with a small smile, and he helped her up to get into the boat.

“You two still have time!” The man called out to them as they were lowered down onto the ocean.

“Be happy, be in love!” The woman said, and all of them waved goodbye as Hongjoong unhooked the boat from the ropes.

The waves crashed against their little boat as they watched the ship sail further into the ocean, getting enveloped by the thin layer of fog. Hongjoong turned to his wife. “Are you cold?” He asked, taking his jacket off.

She shook her head. “No, I’ve never felt so warm” She replied with a soft smile and he held her close.

They waited for their rescue, not knowing that the ship they once boarded, would vanish, along with the people on it.

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez au #hongjoong #kim hongjoong

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