#au: Dread String of Fate

[paperultra]

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better.  Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

[wnbnny]

wish you back - h.js

w.c - 2.0k | genre - highschool!au/slice of life | pairings - jisung x gn reader | authors note - omfg i'm back from hiatus 😭 anyw req by my bby @starseungs i hope u enjoy <3 req can be found here!

life brings about many surprises, one of which comes in the form of han jisung.

life as a highschooler wasn't easy, navigating through workloads, teenage crushes, and the struggles of a growing and developing brain.

most of all, the concept of soulmates.

soulmates were a thing you would expect from a movie, a fictional world. yet, it was very much true, girls gossiping over potential soulmates in the hallways, boys proposing to their girlfriends in soccer games, happy couples strolling down the streets of the city. your life was lived in monochrome, the classic black and white. it was only when you met your supposed soulmate at the age of 18 that everything would explode, a vibrant splatter of colours that finally allowed you to see the world as it was, not just through a filter. people described it as the feeling of warmth on your skin, the thrill of it all, the reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, purples, pink, all the hues, like home.

but that blood red string scared you.

what was so good about soulmates? the idea of having the rest of your life laid out before you, pre-destined and fated, scared you. what if your soulmate lived halfway across the world? what if you would never meet your soulmate, destined to die a lonely death while everyone else danced under the stars with their loved one? what if you didn't like the life planned out for you? what if you had to live the rest of your life seeing only black and white, and never see the yellow of the sun or the fresh green of the grass and the vibrant red of the flowers? what if your soulmate didn't want you?

it was especially the latter of the questions that haunted you the most.

you feared, with a frightening worriedness, that your chosen one would reject you. you had heard stories of people being rejected by their chosen soulmate, only to either live out their lives in misery or take their own life. no one was ever the same after meeting their soulmate. 

to be honest, you would rather live forever in a world with only black and white than to go through that heartbreak. you would never allow yourself to fall in love, you vowed. soulmate or not, heartbreak was something you never wanted to experience.

---

"oi!" 

"what do you want for your birthday? y'know what, nevermind, it should be a surprise." jisung grinned, ruffling your hair as you scowled at him.

"don't remind me, you know how much i dread the damned day." you groaned, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

your 18th birthday. 

the day you would finally meet your soulmate. 

life had been so peaceful until now, you thought. until someone would come into the picture and fuck everything up.

just 7 days to go until the day. 7 days wouldn't be that bad, right?

wrong.

day 7. day 6. day 5. day 4. day 3. day 2. 

each day, you could feel the trepidation settling into your bones, a chill running through your spine every time you looked at the clock on the wall, until that very day.

the day was normal, well-wishes from your parents and your gift given to you, the new bag you had been yearning for, significantly improving your mood, a smile on your face as you walked to the bus, corners of your lips lifting up and eyes crinkling. your eyes zeroed in on every person as you boarded the bus, squinting in anticipation of the bright colours that were supposed to burst in your vision. luckily, the world remained black and white, not a single spot of colour. you looked down at your phone. damn. the only classes you had with jisung were in the afternoon.

throughout the day, everyone showered you with birthday wishes, gifting you beautifully wrapped presents, yet you couldn't find it in your heart to be genuinely happy, a fake smile plastered on your face as you thanked them for the wishes. it wasn't that you didn't appreciate the gifts, truly. you just dreaded the change that would come in a few hours or so. in a few hours, you would be meeting the person that you would spend the rest of your life with. 

"class dismissed!" you startled awake with a jolt, unconsciously having daydreamed throughout the class, lost in thought. as you scrambled to move onto the next class, hastily picking up your textbook, a hand stopped you. you flinched in surprise, heightened alertness instantly kicking in. a girl held out your pen to you, the world still remaining in black and white.

thank goodness.

up next was biology, your hated arch nemesis. groaning half-heartedly to yourself as you dragged yourself to your locker to dump your heavy textbooks in, a voice broke you out of your reverie.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY-" a voice screamed, causing you to yelp in surprise, head whipping around in surprise as you finally saw the offender of your eardrums.

oh.

time seemed to stop.

red, the colour of his old beanie.

brown, the colour of his soft silky hair that you loved to thread your fingers through.

black, the colour of his old sweatpants and backpack.

yellow, the colour of his pins on his backpack.

blue, the colour of his fluffy hoodie.

purple, the colour of his keychain.

white, the colour of the blinding brightness that seemed to overtake you for a millisecond.

han jisung was your fucking soulmate.

in his hands was a badly wrapped present, wrapped in a bright yellow paper, his lips parted in shock and surprise as he started dumbfoundedly at you.

"oh."

he could only sputter, his boba eyes round and wide as the present dropped to the floor in shock.

han jisung was your soulmate. 

fuck.

"uh- so-" jisung's hand came up to scratch the back of his head, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"so uh- we're..."

"soulmates." you could only say in response.

should you be happy? you were supposed to jump in joy, after all. anyone would expect someone to be happy after bagging the person who was simultaneously your best friend and your secret crush. 

but why did it feel like you and jisung were headed on a one way train to doom?

"i- i gotta go." you stammered, turning around and dashing out the hall, breathing laboured as you heard him call after you in desperation.

no, no, no-

life was going so well. he would never want you, ever. he would never see you in that way. your friendship would be ruined. you would lose your best friend. 

life seemed to bustle around you as you ran. greens, pinks, purples, hues of every shade faded into your vision as you ran, tears finally cascading down your face, dripping onto the lush grass beneath your feet. you couldn't bring yourself to look at anything, eyes tightly shut, a stark reminder of what would change.

---

[57 missed calls]

jisungie 

hello?? y/n? i know you probably don't want to see me now... but i'll be here waiting for you, ok?  it's probably hard to accept that we're soulmates... but take your time:) seen at 12.03 a.m

jisungie

you didn't come to class today...  r u ok?? take care of yourself seen at 15.39 p.m

jisungie

its been five days already i miss you seen at 23.12 p.m

---

you threw your phone across the room, head buried in your shoulders as you muffled a sob. 

fuck him and his perfect personality.

if only he were that easy to forget, to let go. 

but he was han jisung. perfect in every way. as if you could ever dream of forgetting him and his warm touch, his wide grin, his fluffy brown hair hanging over in his eyes with a boyish innocence.

"ding!"

you groaned in annoyance, flinging the sheets back, stumbling out of bed, and quickly wiping away your tears. 

probably one of mom's online deliveries again. 

walking down the stairs, you swung open the door. 

"hi, you can leave the delivery there-"

except it wasn't even a delivery man.

it was han jisung.

"jisung-?" 

you could only stammer in response, eyes widening as you took a step back.

after all, what was one supposed to say to your soulmate that you'd been avoiding for days?

a flash of white and pink caught your eyes. your gaze drifted down to his hands, only to be met with a bouquet of pink, white, and red tulips, a beautiful arrangement wrapped in pink tulle and tied together with a elegant white ribbon.

"uhh... surprise?" jisung smiled anxiously before scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as his face turned crimson red.

too stunned to speak, you could only stand there gaping at him. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke.

"what are you doing here?"

"wait... lemme just- uh- compose myself. big speech, y'know?" he grinned in nervousness, fidgeting slightly, clearly a bundle of nerves.

"so..." he exhaled. "i know i'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but... i don't blame you. but however you feel about us being... soulmates, it doesn't change the fact that i don't mind being your soulmate. i was... pretty happy at first, but then you ran away, so i-"

"wait, happy? i thought you would be mad, or angry, or anything-" you cut him off, brows furrowing in confusion.

jisung gulped. "i had feelings for you." 

"what-?" your heart rate skyrocketed, a ringing in your ears, the thumping of your heart against your ribcage, all making you painfully hopeful, pleading with the gods to not break your heart and dash your hopes again.

"i- i had feelings for you. so... no matter how you want this whole soulmate thing to turn out, even if you don't feel the same, i'll be happy either way knowing you're my soulmate. if you don't want it to, this won't change anything between us, we can go back to living our normal lives-"

jisung was cut off by the feeling of soft, plush lips on his, crashing into him with a ferocity as your arms were thrown around his neck, teeth clashing with his, warm hands threading into his hair.

you didn't think you would ever get used to kissing jisung, you thought. every single touch, smile, even a tiny glance set your nerves ablaze. the feeling of his pillowy lips on yours was thrilling, his hands threaded into your hair and pulling you closer by your lower back, pressing you flush against him until there was so space between the two of you, bridging the gaps that felt like oceans forcing the two of you apart.

finally, the two of you parted with a gasping 'pop', ears red and cheeks flushed, staring at each other in childlike wonder. 

"thank you for the tulips," you smile, taking them from his hands and planting one last kiss on his cheek, "they're lovely."

jisung's ears turned bright red, stammering out a 'you're welcome' in response as you laughed at his antics. "oh, that reminds me," he smiled giddily, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a beautiful baby pink coloured box, gently opening it. you gasped, inside was a beautiful necklace with a heart charm in the middle, simple and elegant. "i was gonna give this to you on your birthday, but... well, you ran off, so here." he smiles nervously awaiting your reaction, and is pleasantly surprised when you squeal and plant a big fat kiss on his lips. he helps you put it on, your lips finding his again as you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer. "it's beautiful, thank you." you smile, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"so you'll accept me as your soulmate?" he asked, eyes wide as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiously waiting for your answer.

you nod, smiling. "i accepted you as my soulmate the moment i found out, i just... thought you wouldn't feel the same way back... so i just avoided you. in hindsight, that sounds pretty stupid," you sigh.

"aish, we could've kissed a long time ago if i had just told you i felt the same!" jisung groaned, pulling you closer as you laughed and smacked his arm in playful indignation. "at least we worked it out." smiling softly, you allowed yourself a moment of peace, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

"out of all the people in the world, i'm stuck with you, han jisung. but you're the best person to be stuck with."

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

well. i can't find my original fic rec list so here's a new (updated) one!

Daily Routines by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) A number of people who feel depressed turn to comedy. Routines can also help. / As can having someone to care for. 4k words / oneshot / complete - TOP fucking tier. this rewired my neurons, shifted my view of Barnaby & his relationship with Wally, and also made me Deeply emotional

How to Greet New Neighbours by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows it isn't good. 8k words / oneshot / complete - STELLAR. an intriguing and engaging (and heartbreaking!) take on how Wally wound up sending material to the whrp

A Matter of Care by The Garden of Unusual Delights (Shadowland) When Julie is too sad to take proper care of her hair, Frank is happy to help out. 2.5k words / oneshot / complete - this person always gets characterizations Just Right, don't they? this a very sweet and tender moment between the besties <3

What to call it? What to call it? by Anonymous Wally tries to figure out what is different about the Neighborhood. But maybe there is no difference at all. 2.2k words / oneshot / complete - a fascinating exploration / behind the scenes interpretation of the secret 14 audios. the end always has me in my feels <3

Strings Of Fate by A_Cypress_Coffin Frank Frankly lived life by simply trudging along most days, but all of that changes when a new neighbor, quite literally, crashes into him. 27k / multichap / ongoing - a very fun interpretation of Franklydear and how the puppets perceive / experience / handle the true nature of their reality. i Cannot recommend it enough!

To Read a Clock by TurnedWorm Frank and Eddie try to teach Wally to read a clock. They get a bit more than they bargained for. 2.7k words / oneshot / complete - sweet and also Haunting! a stellar combination, and an interesting take on Wally's perspective. ngl it gave me chills!

my chest is bursting with abnormality by springtrap_wiki Wally realizes that something about him isn't as it should be. 1k words / oneshot / complete - a little peek into Wally realizing that he's different than his others neighbors. I like how this is handled - it hits home if im being honest!

Goin’ Out of My Head by 5_24 Picking someone up from the bus station seems like an easy task. But when adding Eddie Dear to that equation and the passenger just happens to be Frank Frankly, the results may vary... 5.4k / multichap / complete - genuinely funny, cute, and entertaining. the perfect read for a laugh!

Inside Jokes by The_PastelVoid In which the puppets are waiting for Sally and discover that Wally apparently has a contagious laugh when Barnaby tells what is called an "inside joke". 2k / oneshot / complete - pure fluff and laughs <3

Goodnight, Wally! by PastelDemon ... But what would happen if, one day, without any warning, Wally suddenly could sleep just like everyone else? 19.5k / oneshot / complete - very sweet with a sprinkling of angst, and an entertaining take on what a new-to-sleep Wally might be like

Welcome Home: Fantasy AU by ImaginatorOfThings What would happen if we took our lovable cast of puppets, and put them into a Fantasy alternate universe? 28k / series / complete - a VERY fun fantasy au with a fascinating twist. it made me tear up, it made me feel some dread, it made me smile! what more could we ask for <3

[jenflirts]

Invisible string (drabble)

pairing : jenna ortega x fem!reader

theme: fluff :>

summary: 'Two souls, one destiny; woven by the threads of time, bound by the tapestry of fate, and united in a dance of eternal connection'

warning: none

a/n: y'all deserve a little fluff :p | kinda based on this au i've read. | merry christmas, my loves.

it's on twitter: an enhypen au (right where you left me, 1979 by dearheesun)

invisible string.

is that even real? for some may not and some do, but for me it’s a belief that’s more true than anything else i believed in. every person has a soulmate, either platonic or romantic. we don’t always get that soulmate feeling right away, but it’s actually worth waiting.

i’ve searched for that soulmate and it’s been dreadful—either they use me for the time passing, love bomb me and ghost me—being the dumb person who’s desperate for love, i keep giving them second chances.

i almost gave up, but then i met her.

my home.

the only person i keep longing for and being comfortable with. she’s been my best friend and lover for quite awhile and yet she still proves that she knows me so well.

why do i feel like i’ve known her since then?

she feels like home.

there she is again, running towards me just for a hug. she always keep doing this whenever she sees me.

“i have found you again, my love”

this all i got :) i’mma post the full length dk when tho.

[yanderecrazysie]

can you write a new part for sugawara's idealized scenario? i'm very curious about the 3rd part and i love your writing style. 💓🌸

Sure and thank you! I feel like this turned out pretty bad, but I did my best.

Requested on Tumblr, Quotev, and Wattpad- so many people wanted this LOL

Part 1: here

Part 2: here

Title: Idealized (Part 3)

Pairings: Sugawara Koushi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, Sugawara’s gone mad, hasn’t he?

Summary: Sugawara Koushi seems to be completely perfect: good grades, talented athlete, responsible, and a total sweetheart. But, if he’s so perfect, why does your string of fate, that red string that warns you of the most dangerous person in your life, lead right to him?

AU Note: Some people have a “String of Fate” that, instead of symbolizing love like in soulmate AUs, leads straight to the most dangerous person in your life when you’re close enough to them. The string is invisible to everyone EXCEPT the person that would be in danger. Not everyone in the world has a string of fate but those that do have no idea in what way they will be in danger.

idealized

/adjective/

regarded or represented as perfect or better than in reality.

  Sugawara’s voice was sugar sweet. So sweet that you almost forgot that he was calling you from your mother’s phone.

“What happened to my mother?” You demanded.

You could hear the satisfied smile in his tone as he said, “You’re finally talking to me.”

“Please,” you begged, “what did you do to her?”

You prayed that she was okay, that Sugawara had merely swiped her phone. Something deep inside you knew that wasn’t the case. 

“She’s safe. For now,” Sugawara said, “I didn’t mean to go to such drastic measures, I swear. But I couldn’t think of anything else to get your attention. You avoid me like I’ve got the plague. Why don’t you treat others like that? Why is it only me?” His voice raised more and more with each word until he was shouting into the phone, voice choked with emotion.

“The red string of fate,” you admitted, trembling from head to toe, “I saw it connected to you and I didn’t want anything to do with that.”

There was no harm in telling the truth now, especially if it calmed him down. Sugawara certainly had stopped yelling, a silence stretching on from his end as he mulled over your words.

“I guess fate can’t be avoided,” Sugawara mused, “After all, it’s all led to this moment, hasn’t it?”

You gulped audibly, your throat feeling as dry as the desert. “Please just let my mom go. I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” Sugawara asked, a hint of eagerness slipping into his voice, setting you on edge. Dread seemed to press down on your shoulders, causing you to fall heavily on your bed, trembling from head to toe. This can’t be good.

But did you have a choice? Was there anything you wouldn’t do to get your mom back? No, of course not.

“Anything,” you confirmed softly.

“We’re going to make a trade,” Sugawara replied, “Her freedom for yours.”

You closed your eyes, sucking in a shaky breath. How had it come to this? The teacher’s pet, the popular, handsome volleyball player… how could Mr. Perfect be this cruel? How could he break so many laws just to get his crush to talk to him?

The situation reminded you of Beauty and the Beast. Like Belle, you’d be giving up your freedom for your parent’s. You resolved right then that you’d never, ever fall for the beast, like Belle did. Until the day you died, if it came to that, you would hate him with every inch of your soul.

You felt tears prick your eyes. Until the day I die? You didn’t want to think about that, but wasn’t that what you were promising to him? Or, at least, until he got bored of you. Would that be worse or better? I can’t tell.

“Where are we meeting?” You asked.

Sugawara’s voice trembled with unrestrained excitement from the knowledge that he had won, “My house. Tell the police or anyone else and your mother dies.” He told you the address- a house not too far from yours.

“Okay…” you agreed, tears slipping down your face. You wiped furiously at them, refusing to admit weakness despite losing to him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see you crying, you were still angry at yourself for being so helpless.

You pulled out a jacket and slipped on your shoes, looking at each room in your house as though you had never seen them before. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. Would you really never return?

The sound of your front door closing behind you seemed so final. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurry, as if you walked slow enough you would never have to face Sugawara. The cold air nipped at your nose and ears but, for once, you appreciated it. Who knew when you’d be allowed to go outside again?

You arrived at Sugawara’s house much too quickly. It was strange how such an ordinary looking house could be dripping with malice. You trudged up to the door, forcing yourself to knock. The door flung open and your tormenter peeked out at you, a smile spreading across his face, making him look so innocent that you could almost forget what he had done.

Then, the red string materialized, tightening around your finger, and you were jolted back to reality. You fought the urge to turn tail and run. This is for Mom.

Sugawara beckoned you inside. If your front door closing had sounded final, it was nothing compared to his door and the click of a lock. You fought back tears, overwhelmed by the reality you’d found yourself in.

You followed him down a staircase into a basement, heart sinking as you were met with what looked like a jail cell. Sugawara opened the cage and you knew what you had to do, walking shakily into the cell and taking a seat on the surprisingly soft bed inside. With a scrape against the floor and a creak, the door shut behind you, iron bars surrounding you on three sides. He pulled out a key and locked you inside.

“Now my mom,” you tried to force your voice to remain steady, “You promised you’d let her go.”

Sugawara smiled rather regretfully, “About that. She’s seen my face and knows what I planned to do.”

Your entire body froze, a chill running down your spine. “You promised! My freedom for hers!”

“Well, freedom can mean many things,” Sugawara reasoned, “Like freedom from life, the earth, etc.”

“Please, I’ll do anything! I won’t fight you or anything, just don’t hurt her!”

Sugawara reached a hand through the iron bars, reaching for you. You shrank back into the corner, just out of reach. He frowned in response and retracted his arm.

“I already have everything I want.” Sugawara said softly. He gave you a small wave as he exited the room, leaving you to cower in your cell, tears rolling down your cheeks and helpless sobs escaping your mouth.

For a few minutes, there was silence, except for your hiccups and whimpers. Then… 

BANG.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LVII

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. This chapter is not suitable to those under the age of 18. Chapter on AO3 here.

He should have encouraged you further to use less hot water, Zandik realized, as his hands reached for yours in the scalding water.  Air thick with steam, laced with scents he would only ever attribute to being yours, you’d somehow convinced him a bath was more worthwhile.  And now you and the heat were going to his head and both of you would pay the price later.

A shower would have been efficient. He could have spent the entire time exploring your form, taking care of every curve.  He would feel more invigorated standing.  His body didn’t understand relaxation unless it was to sleep and every waking second couldn’t be wasted.

You’d insisted, however, that a bath would be enjoyable.

Zandik didn’t entirely understand how.  Not at first.  And then you arranged yourself behind him in the tub, a feat considering his own height; at least the tub was more than accommodating.  You pressed your breasts to his bare back before you eased him back into your lap to wash his hair.

How many times had you sat like this with him, he wondered.  Upwards of twenty, no doubt.  Even when your face was obscured to him, you cradled his head in your lap and listened as he went on tangent after tangent.  The last time you’d done so, he realized, was when his Segments still whispered on the wind as you overlooked the Ruin Golem.

“Relax, mon rêve .  I won’t get shampoo in your eyes,” you teased.

Relaxing didn’t take much effort thanks to your soft skin and the way you massaged his scalp as you lathered the shampoo.  He recalled, briefly, that Pantalone specifically spent the time and money getting his hair done for this experience and for once, he could understand why.  Just enough pressure to ensure efficacy but gentle enough to lull him to sleep right here.  Zandik never liked being touched by others, not even by his Segments; vanity to the point that Regrator took it to was a waste of time and mora anyway.

Your words from the courtyard after Pantalone’s dance floated through his head like padisarah petals on the surface of the river, noble and demanding.

He thought like Regrator too, once; Zandik’s turnabout wasn’t even all that long ago in the grand scheme of the universe.  He had outlived you already. He had centuries of experiences, of knowledge, of understanding. Back when he saw himself as a system, less a human and more of a concept in the shape of a human.

How limiting.

You rinsed his hair, thorough and meticulous in the same way you dusted your cello’s bow and body and strings.  When you finished, he reached up and took your hand in both of his and held it above him, mindful of dripping water and lingering suds as he massaged each joint.

You still had your writer’s bump, naturally.  But your palms were rougher, despite your vain attempts to keep them soft.  You exerted pressure on the handle of your claymore in some spots more than others and unless you were in the cold, you never wore gloves.  You used your baton more often now but every once in a while, you preferred to swing the blade yourself, you said; you enjoyed the power in your muscles, feeling the force of the blade and understanding everything as a mere extension of yourself.

A sentiment he more than related to.

Zandik craned his neck slightly to look at you only to find you watching him intently, your other hand grazing his cheek.

Even if he could outlive you, what would the point be?  The universe would never be exhausted but without you to share any of it with, why bother?

“They ache less,” you said. “I couldn’t have done tonight or any preceding tasks without your handiwork.”

“As was intended. Your claymore took away most of your grip strength and left you with little to use on daily tasks.  Eliminate that and you are free to take better care of your joints.  I saw no need for extreme alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“Prostheses.”

“I do rely on my sense of touch. Would be a shame to lose it.”

Your grazed your fingers over the tender spot between his shoulder and his neck; his eyes fluttered shut and his heart shuddered as if he was struck by lightning. The after-effects of the Furnace centuries ago were nothing compared to this sensation.

“A travesty,” Zandik replied. “Without it, your music would lack its soul.”

He would rather have fought and killed you, once upon a time.  Especially upon seeing you burdened with a device that tainted the mind.  He did not want you and yet his very nature demanded your presence, your music, your soul; he was a glutton for knowledge and to ignore you meant turning away from an opportunity to explore the world through a lens he would potentially never have again.

A slave to fate in all but name.  

His past self, or even just Omega, would have laughed if he walked in.

Omega understood, in the end, long before either his creator or you did.

Between his Segment and your thrice-timed persuasion, twice in appreciation of your presence and then once in your absence, and your willpower alone, his choice was made.

He didn’t need to feel his face to know how flushed he was. Amid the steam, he felt his pulse throbbing, lightheaded from the heat.

You fought, you always fought when given the right evidence, and Zandik hated few things more than passive acceptance of one’s intended life. You worked as hard as he had, as had as he did , endured pain he could conceptualize and at least acknowledge.

He wondered, for a moment, if that first night would have been different if you knew , then, in the darkened performance hall. He doubted it. What you lacked in physical prowess you more than made up for in emotional blows.

Which was precisely why, he realized some time ago, you would have gotten away from Omega on your own. You didn’t need him, Zandik, even if at the time it seemed otherwise. Sedatives would have worn off. Omega was distracted enough with the Traveler that you could have woken up without assistance.

And it was your fourth persuasion, feet caked with sand and a wooden cello neck in your hand, that made something finally fall into place.

You wanted him.

If you could have nothing else, no memories, no instrument, no colleagues, couldn’t you at least have him?

And wasn’t that how he felt with himself?  If Celestia was going to force you upon him, he might as well explore the bond.  That hasn’t changed. 

If he could have nothing else, couldn’t he have you?

In the cold depths of the Palace, shut away with nothing but false corpses for company, he came to the root of Omega’s selfishness and obsession over you. The Segments had nothing of their own, despite having autonomy and individuality; what Zandik gave them was what shaped them and he gave Omega his worst self.

All he knew was how to build, create; he learned and he adapted as needed. Moving. Always moving. If he stayed still, he would never reach the next conclusion, the next breakthrough.

And yet here you were, keeping him steady, focused. Wrapped in emotions he repressed in another era of this world. Willing to see what fate laid beyond the stars.

Zandik opened his eyes and caught you lost in thought, face just as flushed as his; no doubt you, too, were feeling the effects of the water. You blinked and looked down, your head titled at the same angle as when you heard a series of notes and were trying to work out the exact positioning to mimic it.

He didn’t deserve you, to feel inspired and anchored and…

“I know,” you whispered, bringing a hand to smooth back his wet hair again. “I know.”

Did you? he wanted to ask.  Did you truly know, understand, the depth of such a thing?  The amount of times he wondered if, for a moment, it was possible for a single person to hold an entire cosmos in their existence, just from looking at you?

A scholar would never stop until every avenue has been exhausted; fate would, inevitably, always find a way, for it was unnatural in its persistence.

So why not explore it?

For every challenge, Zandik saw the world in a richer context, experienced an outcome that, without your presence, would have been fleeting. The two of you would have found one another through other means, if not then, in Sumeru.  The means didn’t matter so much as the result.  The experiment was the journey, in truth, and he could control that.

And he would.  With your input, of course.

He chose. 

He chose you. 

And he would always choose you.

[drawthethingdoppelganger]

Bob's Burgers Fanfic Rec List!

Babs thinks she can just trick me into trying whateeeeever things that involve making a list (she can. she's evil). A ship-oriented list cuz umm, I think that's all I've ever read.....

Boblin

do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? by @jimmypesto - Linda is unhappily married to Hugo, when she meets her soulmate in a bar. Rated E.

for a moment, I knew cosmic love by @jimmypesto - Boblin Soulmate AU. Rated G.

still my patron saint by @jimmypesto - A Boblin Ghost AU. Rated E.

everything’s alright when she calls me back by @jimmypesto - Bob and Linda relive a decades old memory. Rated M.

I see you every day now by @jimmypesto - Five times Bob and Linda should’ve moved in together (and one time they actually did). Rated T.

Old Cape Bob by @babsvibes - Old Boblin Beach Day fic. Rated G.

Stairway to Lemon by @babsvibes - New parents Bob and Linda spend a well-earned night off… sitting on the stairs. Rated G.

i want to know what love is by @https-hunter - A collection of short fics for boblin week 2024 on tumblr.

An Indecent Proposal by @golden--doodler - Bob has decided that the day has finally come: He's going to propose to Linda. Rated T.

Tinimmy

Honey Combed Hair by @babsvibes - (summary? what summary? incredibly important fic to me personally is what it is)

Beach Glaze by @babsvibes - At face value, Tina's goal was quite simple: Have a beach day with Jimmy Jr., just the two of them. So why did it always have to go wrong? Rated G.

the night we snuck into a yacht club party, pretending to be a duchess and a prince by @jimmyjrsmusoems - Tina and Jimmy Jr. decide to sneak into the Glencrest Yacht Club's annual Christmas party. Rated T.

a message in a bottle is all i can do (standing here, hoping it gets to you) by @jimmyjrsmusoems - that time that Jimmy Jr. texted Tina on the emergency phone. Rated G.

all i know, is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life by @jimmyjrsmusoems - Tinimmy Faking Dating AU. Rated T.

don't be afraid to jump, then fall (into me) by @jimmyjrsmusoems - Jimmy Jr. plans a (semi-)romantic surprise for his girlfriend. Rated G.

it always leads to you in my hometown by @jimmypesto - Over the years, Tina and Jimmy Jr. reunite when he returns to Seymour's Bay for Christmas. Rated M.

my gold rush to cold touch favorite ex by @jimmypesto - After a nightmare, Jimmy Jr. pays Tina a late night visit. Rated T.

Bits and Pieces by @eroticfriendfictions - A collection of ficlets and one shots. Rated T.

After Hours by @eroticfriendfictions - Tina and Jimmy Jr. have a closing time rendezvous. Rated T.

Dance Me to the End of Love by @waytoomanyhobbies - With their wedding about a month away, Tina has been going out until very late every night for the past two weeks. Rated M.

Wagstaff Side Story by @https-hunter - West Side Story AU.

Louigan

Logan's Run (-ning away) by @babsvibes - (something something roadtrip romcom). Rated T.

Territorial Swisspute by @babsvibes - Louigan Coworkers AU. Rated E.

Stacy's Cardamom by @babsvibes - Logan commits unthinkable crimes to get Louise’s attention. But in like a romcom-y way. Rated M.

Dread String of Fate by @babsvibes - A soulmate AU where each person has their own identifying tell, and Louise isn't happy with hers. Rated T.

Cry Me a Liver by @babsvibes - Louise and Logan break up for a reason unbeknownst to a pair of deeply concerned and meddling siblings. Rated T.

Pie v. Cake by @babsvibes - Louise and Logan have their stupidest argument to date. Also, there's a puzzle. Rated T.

i don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it by @jimmyjrsmusoems - Jimmy Jr. and Logan fighting to figure out who, exactly, is Bob and Linda's "favorite". Rated T. (This is both louigan and tinimmy and I love it sooo much)

take a dirty picture, babe by @jimmypesto - Louise can’t let Logan leave for his trip without giving him a surprise first. Rated M.

small talk in the kitchen (dated, dumb traditions) by @jimmypesto - On Christmas, Logan and Louise have a disagreement about the merits of PDA. Rated T.

Christmas Proposal Proposition by @sailoreuterpe - Louise asks Logan an important question about an important question on Christmas Eve. Rated T.

Rarepairs

BLT- A Commit-y of Marriers by @sailoreuterpe - Bob and Linda are marrying Teddy. Of course, thing don't all go according to plan. In the end, however, their wedding is still (almost) perfect. Rated G.

Chloise - we might just get away with this by @jimmypesto - Chloe and Louise meet up in private. Rated T.

Tinimeke - Veals Like The First Time by @babsvibes - Tina, Jimmy Jr., Zeke. Where one goes, the other follows and usually with a hand tugging the last along with them. Rated T.

Tedmort - Unpack Your Heart by @cosmic-hoboandthehighlander - Teddy gives Mort the key to his house - indicating he wants him to move in with him. Rated G.

[mystic-myrtille]

Hey, i'm bored, can u recommend me some adrien salt fics (Bonus points if it's lukanette)

Bonus for Lukanette? Looks like I’m getting all the bonus points😂 I mean I haven‘t really read any Adrien salt fics for the sake of reading salt as of recent but because it was a Lukanette fic that happened to also have some salt😂 so yeah they’re all Lukanette whoopsie

Also I don’t know what exactly you’re looking for but most of those aren‘t really super heavy salt? And several salt on other characters as well, so beware. I‘ll try my best nontheless, hope that works for you

From the top of my head, here‘s a few I can think of:

Juleka vs the forces of the universe by @goldenlaurelleaveswrites , multichapter. Juleka is fed up with Mari being „meant for“ Adrien and works against the forces of the universe to get Lukanette to come closer. Beware, it‘s more or less salt against… well, everybody😂

Choice chances by @miraculouscontent , one-shot. Takes place after 5x02. Mari hangs out with Luka and opens up about her not feeling like she has much of a choice for her life. Adrien is only mentioned

Dread string of fate by @miraculouscontent , multichapter. You probably know that one, in which case, go reread it. It‘s a masterpiece

Everything from @miraculouscontent really😂

The one to make it stay by @thesaltyoceanwaves , multi-chapter. S3 Lukanette au. I love everything about it

Live with it by @quickspinner , multichapter. Aftermath of Chat‘s fuck-up in the NY special

The Ladybug‘s knight by Nyx_the_dragon on AO3, one-shot. Chat is being his obnoxious and flirty self and Luka gets akumatized over it.

Patient by 19thcentury on AO3, one-shot. Also NY special salt with mild Adrien salt. He‘s only mentioned

[lonewolfel]

God Games: Underworld Edition

This comes from an AU where Eurylochus is given the choice between Odysseus's life or his own and the crews lives. Eurylochus choses the crew.

Inspired by @theultimatenonbinarynerd ask.

[Athena]

Uncle, Dread King

I know the rules of death

Yet, I'm knocking on your door

With hopes to save a friendship with one who you host in your great halls

Odysseus

[Hades]

Divine intervention, is that what you seek?

To undo the death your father placed on that Greek?

You are playing with fate for a man full of guilt,

But if he's worth the risk, perhaps you could get his soul.

Convince each of them the he ought to live, and he is free to go

[Athena]

Who's them?

[Hades]

Charon, Hecate, Thanatos, Styx, Persephone, and the Moirai

What do you say?

[Charon]

Great

[Hecate]

Very well

[Thanatos]

Eh

[Styx]

Alright

[Persephone]

Groovy

[The Moirai nod their heads]

[Athena]

Bring it

[Shades]

Charon!

[Charon]

You all know I'm the ferry man of shades

So many of his crew gone, yet I couldn't ferry them

[Athena]

There were no bodies to bury,

Many eaten or lost to the ocean depths.

If you let him return he will honor

Them so they can ride on your boat.

[Charon]

If that's true, let him live

[Shades]

Hecate!

[Hecate]

Why should I aid him when he

Threatens one of my witches. Turned

Our own power against us.

[Athena]

Did you forget Circe turned his men

To pigs? That the Molly was a gift

From Hermes? He only used it so

He could free his men. Circe even helped him.

[Hecate]

Very well, let him live

[Shades]

Thanatos

[Thanatos]

Mortals only get one chance, and you

Know how much I hate cheaters.

Why should Odysseus get another?

[Athena]

He didn't get a choice

[Thanatos]

Mortals never really get a choice

He's just like any other mortal. Let him remain.

[Athena activating Quick Thought]

Wait, please reconsider this

[Styx invading Athena's Quick Thought with her Consuming Hate]

Really Athena? Cheating are we?

[Athena]

Styx!

[Shades]

Styx, Styx

[Styx]

Tell me little goddess,

Why should a liar get to

live again when so many

honest men have to remain?

He said he'll get his men

Home and yet the majority of his men ended up

Dead. Odysseus known no

Honesty just like you.

[Athena]

Hold your tongue, you

know nothing of what

you speak. Death, Odysseus's no Sisyphus.

You want the truth, Styx?

His men betrayed

Him. Why should he be honest when no

Man near him is?

[Thanatos & Styx]

Ugh, let him live

[Persephone]

Hey, girl

[Ensemble]

Persephone!

[Persephone]

So many heroes

Or so they say

They all come here to rest so why should yours return

[Athena]

He’s got the mind of a genius

[Persephone]

So what,

He's just another conquerer

And killer. Why should I aid him?

[Athena]

It's all my fault

I'm the one who turned him into a monster.

[Persephone]

Release him

[The Moirai]

Tell us little Olympian, you're a

Fan of weaving

[Atropos]

Why would you change

The design just because

You feel guilt for one of the strings?

[Clotho]

All lives are entwined. To change one

Strings length you will change all.

Why should we let you change ours?

[Athena]

It wasn't his time.

[Atropos]

Perhaps but fate changes.

Only one of the crew can arrive to Ithaca.

[Lachesis]

Once it was Odysseus

Now it is Eurylochus.

[Clotho]

Not even your father can change this,

Little Goddess.

[Athena]

What if Eurylochus dies?

Then will you allow me Odysseus's shade?

[The Moirai]

Bring us Eurylochus

Before he steps onto

Ithacan soil and Odysseus

May live again.

[Hades]

You have your answer, niece.

Now leave.

I hope you guys enjoyed it. I tried to keep it in neat with song but I'm not a singer so it was hard. The Moirai part was difficult just because most of them don't have corresponding lyrics.

[an-au-blog]

I need to get this ball rolling and to write this au idea out anywhere so pllleeease indulge me and listen to me try to put a spin on Shuggy soulmate au.

Setting: a world in which soulmates are connected by a string of fate that shows only for a short second when two peoples hands touch, doesn’t even have to be romantical, but if you are connected to someone with that string it means your souls are interwoven in some way. Shanks and Buggy share such a string. In the beginning they both believed they were more along the lines of „platonic complete opposite soulmates who’s differences and conflicts drive each other to become their best selfs“ but after Laugh Tale they both realized that at least the „platonic“ part was complete Bull and they become a couple.

The inevitable happens. Rogers excecution, Buggy feeling betrayed by Shanks decision, breakup in the rain, but Shanks still holds out Buggy will come and join him again soon. Then one night Shanks wakes up with a feeling of absolute heart wrecking despair washing over him and at first he thinks he had another nightmare about Rogers execution, but then he realizes that he’s in physical pain, his heart is actually aching and a deep sadness envelopes him as he scream sobs and curls in on himself. Buggy has cut his string.

Years later. They meet again at Marineford and things proceed mostly normal. Shanks doesn’t hold a grudge against Buggy, doesn’t even mention it, doesn’t even confront Buggy about it, he still feels deeply for his soulmate and he never managed to cut his string, because he couldn’t bring himself to do it, but he knows Buggy has moved on. And Buggy is pissed as expected about Shanks being so nice and friendly and “Oh the map? You’re still angry about that?” And GODS he wishes Shanks would be at least a little bit pissed… and part of him is glad he isn’t.

… because thing is, Buggy didn’t cut his string either. Oh he tried alright, and it was as awful and painful as it was for Shanks, an immense physical pain combined with the worst sadness and loneliness he ever felt in his life and that’s saying something coming fresh of his father figures execution. But through the sobbing and heaving he suddenly realizes with dread that the string has reattached himself to him. He once again curses that damn fruit That bereft him not only of his ability to swim but also to cut of the person he never wants to be hurt by ever again in his life. But he can’t. But Shanks thinks he did. And the least he can do after hurting his soulmate this badly, doing the one thing that everyone tells you not to do another human being because the pain is so immense, is to never let Shanks know that he couldn’t cut it.

I'm not even joking when I say that literally half an hour before seeing this ask, I was thinking about red sting soulmates Shuggy omfg get iut of my head ahhagah

Anon imma name you just so whenever you write/post this pleaaaase send me the link! I'm naming you Meltan because anon, this melted me this is amazing :')

The thread hurts like cutting off a part of one's body. Some say it's even worse. Shanks had experienced that already, but it was fueled by the urge to protect. He lost his arm for Luffy and that was fine by him. He still feels bad that he regretted it for a split second because he thought that that was the hand that had Buggy's string on it. If he just prayed to anyone and anything that he never had to choose between the two.

Ever since they realized their bind was more than just platonic, the string felt a bit more lively. "Lively" probably wasn't the best word to call it, but it seemed somewhat vibrant. Shanks took pride in it and in the little time they had together before their breakup, he'd take any chance to touch Buggy and look at the thing that connected them for life. Even if they parted, he thought, they would still fate connecting them and pulling them together.

I'd like to think that Shanks knew, that Buggy's parts always came back to him. But he's under the assumption that Buggy's string isn't on him anymore, so it hurts even more because that would mean Buggy didn't feel their connection as a part of himself.

Shanks sometimes still felt the string but he thought that it was like a phantom limb syndrome. He had one arm less anyway, and he would still feel like it was there, but the string felt more tangible. He assumed it was because it was cut off more recently.

(Dare I improvise that- ) Buggy, when they meet again, started wearing long gloves and long sleeves again. He didn't want to risk Shanks knowing. One late night, Shanks gave him a big hug and for a millisecond their skin brushed. Buggy jumped back in a moment of shock. He felt it. And if he felt it, then Shanks also felt it. It was like a warmth after being in the cold for more than a decade. It felt like the first drops of water after wandering a desert for too long. Shanks maybe tries to tell him what he felt but Buggy denies everything and makes jokes of the sort of "Shanks are you drunk again?" "Haha, okay buddy, time to go to bed now" or just tires to make an excuse to leave. In any case, he rushes to shut the door behind himself because he knew he was going to crumple. He leans against the door and slides down, face in his hands, cursing himself for letting himself feel what he's been trying to stay absent for so so long...

Why did he need months of rehabilitation every time he saw Shanks again. Why did being sober hurt this much...

[thegreatcrowdragon]

Soulmates au pureshadow would go hard especially with the Red String of Fate variety because. Strings. Puppetry. I’d imagine that pv was always curious about his soulmate, and once he attempted to follow the string only to have to stop because it was going over the ocean. Anyway time skip, the gang is going to Beast-Yeast, and pv notices with growing curiosity that they’re actually going in the direction of his string. More story stuff happens, they get to the village n stuff, and pv is hit with overwhelming dread as he realizes the string leads directly into the tree. The sealed tree. With the Beasts inside of it.

[the-writing-mobster]

Where I can read your fics? They seem pretty interesting!

Thank you for the ask, love! Fic links, anyone?

You can find all of my fics on Ao3! I need to make an actual like... Official link post, don't I? I used to have one pinned but other things take priority.

So I guess I'll sprinkle the links to my fics here for your immediate viewing pleasure instead of sending you on a wild goose chase ;)

IMPORTANT NOTE — A lot of my fics are locked so only people with confirmed AO3 accounts can read them. This is because of AI scraping, obvs. TMDG is the only one that I think is unlocked since it's fairly new. But it'll eventually get locked as well.

~

| The What Do You Want Duology | 🥀 💀 |

(YWIW, the sequel, still lies unfinished, unfortunately, but WDYW is completed and currently under revisions!)

Summary (for those still not in the know):

Frisk spent most of her life fighting to survive in a cruel world where her only upper hand was her soul's Determination and her feminine charms. After angering the most dangerous man in her life, she is thrown down into Hell to be ripped apart and destroyed by the demons said to inhabit it. With her soul refusing to give up, of course she survives.

However, when she is taken hostage by the infamous Gaster brothers, she finds herself trapped in the strange, abyssal gaze of Sans the Skeleton. With political and sexual tensions on the rise, can these two work through their differences? Or will they forever be asking each other, "What Do You Want?"

—

| Baby Face - UF Highschool AU | 💖 🤘🏻 |

Technically an au based off of my characterizations of the UF characters in wdyw. This one is tooth rottingly sweet and set in a surface Ebbott City in the 90s. Inspo was movies like Clueless & the documentary Kid 90. I actually loved this story so much I completely reworked it and turned it into an original novel.

Important to note that this fic isn't really a romance. It's more about platonic love and friendships than it is about Frans romance.

Summary:

Seniors should not date freshmen. No matter what. Not even if the freshman is hot. Not even if the freshman says it's ok. Not even if the freshman makes moves. That’s the mantra Sans lives by, and even though Frisk, one of the cutest girls according to all of his friends, catches a crush of epic proportions on him, he makes it a point to keep his distance. She’ll thank him later.

Or

Sans is in a rock band and Frisk has a big ole unrequited crush on him.

—

| The Most Dangerous Game | 💙 🔪 💔 |

The dreaded serial killer dead dove fic we've all been raving about recently!!!

It's important to note that this one isn't a romance. They are (albeit obsessive) enemies through and through.

Summary:

Frisk Starling should've been used to cases like these. After all, it was her duty to investigate. Give the victims their voice back, catch the sick freak who did it and give the broken families the justice she couldn’t have for herself.

That is until a string of murders throughout the tristate area begin to appear. Women used like toys, mutilated and disposed of for the cops and journalists to find with only the tiniest slivers of useless evidence and the glaring fact that all the women...

Every…

Single…

One…

Look almost exactly like her… Frisk begins to wonder if maybe… the monster she's hunting down has turned her into the hunted.

And God, does she make the most exhilarating, delicious prey yet…

—

Honorable mention One Shots:

| The Witch, The Judge & the 3 Card Gamble | ♠️♥️♣️ |

Probably my best prose ever. Genuinely.

Summary:

After suffering a gruesome bullet to the ribs, the vengeful Witch hovers over a dying fire, praying her campsite isn’t spotted by vagabonds who’d surely make her pay for existing…

But as a shadow blots out the stars if not for the two red pricks of light glaring her down, she fears her true nightmares have come to claim her after all; The Grim Reaper, the judge of her fate.

And she doesn’t like her odds.

—

| We'll See - Christmas Rom Com | 🎄 💕 |

I wrote this as a secret Santa present to @themsource. It is very cute and fucking funny if I do say so myself. It puts the comedy in Romantic Comedy.

Summary:

Sans has some inhibitions about Christmas, clouded with cynicism and bitterness. But if there's anyone to make him have a change of heart, it's Frisk; Ebbot City's own Little Miss Mother Teresa.

—

☣️ HONORABLE MENTION SMUT ONE SHOTS ☣️

| French Kisses | Smut | 🫧💓 |

Summary: Sans has landed a well-paying position as a senior accountant and Frisk has a few ideas on how to reward him — one of those ideas involves a French Maid dress.

| The Librarian's Assistant | Smut | 📚💓 |

This one was pretty steamy...

Summary: Frisk's days working as a librarian can get pretty quiet and repetitive... Until a new patron with an obvious infatuation with her starts becoming a regular visitor.

Eventually she can't help herself...

.

.

.

I hope you are satisfied with my thorough answer! If you do end up reading, I'd love to hear from you again on your thoughts! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

‼️ Also — join my discord for readily available updates and fun discussion! DM me for the invite since those invite links expire ‼️

[sylviesoothsayer22]

To Finally Be In Your Ephemeral Embrace

Here's some much needed exposition: I combined two soulmate AUs. One being the Daemon-lore and the other being Lumen-lore. The first is pretty well-known and doesn't need an explanation, but the other one is actually the creation by someone with the handle @meliapis (you’ll probably find them here on Tumblr) On that particular AU, the character is accompanied by a physical manifestation of their soulmate (i.e. a ball of light known as a lumen). A lumen is supposed to appear starting from their Chosen's 6th to 30th year. They also vary in colour and size, can control how much light they emit, while also (sometimes) able to transmit emotions/sensations of their human counterpart. Hope that wasn't confusing!

Summary:

The very concept of a soulmate had always left Hong’er with an odd blend of nervous excitement and trepidation.

In a way, this was something that he could call his own. It was unlike the food or money he would steal and therefore can never truly be his. He didn’t have to fight off other street urchins to keep it in his possession or guard it on his person at all times. The thought of a Fated One always left Hong’er with warmth blooming in his belly that not even the coldest of nights could chase away.

But....his birthdays keep passing by and there were no signs.

Even the lowest of the low-class have soulmates, so why doesn't he...?

(or the one AU where I decided to write HuaXian as soulmates using a mish-mash of two soulmate AUs. Enjoy! :)

The very concept of a soulmate had always left Hong’er with an odd blend of nervous excitement and trepidation.

On one hand, this was something that he could call his own. It was unlike the food or money he would steal and therefore can never truly be his . He didn’t have to fight off other street urchins to keep it in his possession or guard it on his person at all times. The thought of a Fated One always left Hong’er with warmth blooming in his belly that not even the coldest of nights could chase away.

On the other hand, the idea of binding his ill-fated soul to another and likely bring misfortune upon them left Hong’er with the sensation of needles crawling up his spine akin to malicious spiders. They would surely hate him for that, wouldn’t they?

And yet….and yet, he would see the other children, rich and poor alike, smile at their lumens as they buzzed around their heads, chase them in their own personal game of hide-and-seek meant only for two, laugh whenever their lumens playfully tickle their sensitive cheeks and necks. Children that were assured in the knowledge that while they haven’t met their Fated yet, they will never truly be alone.

Hong’er would then glance at the empty spot where he imagined his lumen was supposed to be and feel burning jealousy bubbling up in his chest.

Even the lowest of the low-class had been blessed with one, so why hasn’t he….?

Wait until my birthday…. Hong’er quietly assured himself. They’ll appear by then.

His sixth year on this earth had already come and went.

Then his seventh arrived..

…and the eighth quickly followed.

..ninth…

It took until his tenth birthday for Hong’er to start believing the terrifying reality that he might not have a soulmate.

That dreadful thought would only grow day-by-day until the little boy felt something delicate and fragile within slowly crack and shatter into a thousand pieces. Piercing his innards with their countless shards.

Against his will, a voice, the one that he had been doing everything in his power to not give in to, echoed Hong’er’s greatest fear:

No one loves you. No one will ever love you. It’s a pity that a poor soul had their red-string tied to a little beast like you .

Hong’er bit the inside of his cheek until he drew blood.

No point in pitying someone who doesn’t even exist, then.

The little boy shut his eyes in a futile attempt to stem the flow of tears. Hong’er curled his body further to protect himself against the evening chill. Winter was almost here and he needed to keep himself warm somehow.

Afterall, there was no lumen to do that for him.

In spite of this shattering revelation, the world never stopped turning. Hong’er was left with no other choice but to keep moving forward.

Even after surviving a few more months on the streets just so that he could keep his miserable life for another day, even after Hong’er fell to his unceremonious death and had to constantly escape from stronger, more powerful spirits that wanted to snuff out his ghost-fire, even after Hong’er- Hua Cheng clawed his way into Supreme status out of sheer spite and contempt for the world, always defiant in the face of the shitty hand that fate dealt him.

Even after eight hundred years, when the pain had long since dulled into an ache, Hua Cheng knew that the all-consuming sense of loneliness and dejection will never truly leave him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He was lounging in one of Paradise Manor’s numerous balconies, mindlessly watching the hustle and bustle going on in a city that never truly sleeps. The red lights illuminating the Ghost King’s visage, accentuating his sharp features quite fetchingly.

Hua Cheng had just finished a long and exhausting meeting with that freeloading bastard Black Water and was currently nursing a minor headache. The wine warming his cheeks likely wasn’t helping either.

From the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng could see a little silver blur approaching him.

He thought nothing of it. Most likely, it was one of his butterflies with another message from Yin Yu.

Wait….

Hua Cheng stiffened and sat up. Suddenly alert.

It wasn’t fluttering its way towards him. The way it was hovering in the air was… off . As if it didn’t need wings to keep itself aloft. It was also far smaller than the typical size of his wraith butterflies.

The strange object stopped just a hairsbreadth away from his face.

Hua Cheng felt his thoughts grind to a halt.

For the first time in who knows how many years, he was speechless.

For one wild moment, he thought someone must’ve let their lumen out of their sight.

Except that wouldn’t make any sense. Ghost-fires scramble away once they catch a whiff of the abundant resentful energy rolling off of Hua Cheng in waves.

A lumen was infinitely more fragile and precious. None would dare hover so close to him, even with their Chosen in tow.

Hua Cheng hesitantly held out a trembling hand. Long fingers slowly uncurling, palm facing up.

Without even a moment’s pause, the little lumen made itself home in the Calamity’s open hand. Nestling itself against the skin of his palm.

Hua Cheng stared at it in shock and no small amount of awe.

The lumen was perfectly spherical-shaped. It had a subtle silver glow that was neither too dull nor too bright. Prettily standing out in the night backdrop, one could easily mistake it for a star that decided to drift away from its place in the Heavens down to earth.

It was also incredibly tiny. About the size of a grape and felt even more delicate than the most expensive bauble. Hua Cheng feared that he might accidently crush it just from letting out a bit of yin energy alone. Yet it immediately trusted the Calamity with its little life.

“Hello….” He breathed out in disbelief. Not knowing what else to say.

After all these years, why now……?

The little-lumen enthusiastically blinkered at him. Practically exclaiming back with an eager: Hi!

Hua Cheng couldn’t stop his lips from quirking upwards at the endearing sight.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

To say that Yin Yu had been startled because the lumen of Hua Cheng’s soulmate finally presented itself would be an understatement.

Hua Cheng would’ve made a few snarky comments at his servant’s shocked countenance, but he was currently preoccupied with a rather needy ball of light.

“Perhaps we should look for them….? At least to ensure that they’re in fine health.” Yin Yu quietly suggested. Slightly unnerved at his lord’s uncharacteristically gentle behaviour when it came to his soulmate’s lumen.

Chengzhu glanced at his servant for a moment. Contemplating the idea.

Not liking that the elder’s attention was no longer on it, the little-lumen started vibrating and rolling around in Hua Cheng’s cupped hands. Looking very much like an angry marble as it announced its clear displeasure.

Yin Yu watched as his lord turned back to the little light with an indulgent smile and traced his thumb on the small orb’s surface. Softly petting the tiny sphere, urging it to calm down.

Immediately, the lumen stopped its minor tantrum and nuzzled itself against Hua Cheng’s thumb. Quiet once more.

“I think it’s best that we leave them be.” He finally decided. “Judging from the size, they must’ve just been born. There’s no point in being in their life right now.”

Yin Yu nodded in acquiescence.

(It wasn’t until over two decades later, when Hua Cheng would find out about the kind of life his soulmate lived.

Never had Hua Cheng felt the fervent need to run himself through. Even though he knew this penance could never make up for his failings.

Oh, Wei Ying…. I’m so sorry….)

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In another world, within the room of a small decrepit inn located at a village with no name, a woman was reclining in her bed. Utterly exhausted from a rather excruciating and bloody labour.

Daring not to breathe too loudly, she quietly watched as the small bundle in her arms slowly cracked their moonstone eyes open. Their gazes locked and he let out a gurgle-laugh at the sight of his mother’s smiling face. Cangse Sanren giggled as she used her pointer-finger to gingerly stroke the babe’s soft cheek.

He’ll be a troublemaker when he grows up. She was sure of it. He is her son after all.

So long as he’ll always have a reason to smile, I’ll be content.

Still marvelling at the new life in her arms, Cangse Sanren watched as her son’s eyes were slowly pulled to the being hovering protectively above them. As if in a trance, both of his little hands peeked out of the blanket, instinctively reaching out.

A large, red lumen slowly- cautiously descended to her infant son’s open embrace. As if it were worried that it might crush the babe.

And hadn’t that been a shock? Lumens were incredibly rare, only one in a thousand would find themselves blessed with an actual soulmate. So, to see the Heavens bestowing such an honour on her son was as startling as it was concerning.

What could this possibly mean…?

Cangse Sanren studied the crimson lumen for what felt like the hundredth time. It had suddenly appeared the moment her child came into the world. With its bold colouring, it resembled a red star that had a splotch of a starry night-sky located at the sphere’s centre. Floating around the lumen’s interior like the yolk of an egg...or the iris of an eye.

It was also unusually big. About the size of a cuju-ball, which made for quite a comical sight as her son couldn’t fully wrap his chubby little arms around the glowing orb.

Cangse Sanren wasn’t sure what the size could indicate about the type of character her child’s soulmate was, so she put it out of her mind for now.

What did concern her was the absurd amount of yin energy exuding off of the red sphere. It wasn’t hurting her son, per say, but it’s best that she look into it.

Cangse Sanren watched as her little Wei Ying tried to bite the lumen, likely checking to see if it was something edible. Nomming on it as the red orb stayed docile as a lamb in her son’s embrace. Seemingly indulging the babe’s mindless curiosity.

“Now now…” A male voice softly scolded. “That’s not meant for eating. Is this how you’ll treat your other-half when you meet them?” The man’s hand lightly pushed at Wei Ying’s little fingers. Freeing the bright lumen from her son’s clutches and giving it the option to fly away.

It didn’t. Instead, it allowed itself to be held hostage by the infant once more.

Wei Changze watched the cute scene with a hint of amusement and exasperation.

“Unbelievable. They haven't even met yet and our child already has them wrapped around his little fingers!”

“That just proves that our future in-law has good taste.” His wife teased. Tickling a laugh out of her husband.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

News of the little silver lumen making its sudden appearance at Crimson Rain’s side had spread all over Ghost City within a single night. Every resident had assumed - hoped - that it would mean that their sarcastic and unpredictable king would mellow out after receiving such a blessing. No matter how delayed it may be. 

And mellow out he did. Since the lumen of Hua Cheng’s soulmate finally materialised, there have been slight, subtle changes, both in the Calamity’s demeanour and temperament. Yin Yu would be the first to notice how his lord’s signature smirks would have a touch of genuineness to them, how Chengzhu would uncharacteristically deal with troublesome matters with a little more patience than he would usually spare them, how the elder ghost seemed more prone to let out a sincere laugh instead of the usual sardonic chuckle.

Of course, Hua Cheng only extended this sort of special treatment to his lumen, as for everyone else ... .well, they still received the same attitude as before. 

Lord Black Water would be the first one to make that painful discovery.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sharp, golden eyes surveyed the turquoise-coloured lumen zooming around Paradise Manor’s gates. Looking very much like a tornado as it went above, below and around the archways in excitable, dizzying patterns. 

“Behave yourself.” He Xuan hissed quietly. Equal parts exasperated and ashamed. It always acted like this whenever they visited sites that the lumen had never seen before…or whenever they went to places that practically advertised their wealth.

Honestly, why was he given a lumen that was both hyper and vain? 

Perhaps he should follow Yin Yu’s example and just stuff the troublesome ball of light into his sleeves. Out of sight and out of mind.

It would certainly prevent it from knocking over precious treasure again….

“Lord Black Water….?” The familiar, collected voice of Hua Cheng’s assistant cut through He Xuan’s thoughts. Waning Moon Officer now stood before him in a respectful bow.

“This one apologises for the long wait. But I am afraid that my lord is….otherwise indisposed at the moment. I advise that you take your rest. He shan’t be long.”

“Indisposed…?” He Xuan echoed; brow furrowed. If that flower bastard didn’t have the time, he would usually just say it to He Xuan’s face before kicking him out of his property. 

Either way, He Xuan couldn’t afford to wait this time. 

“I just need to speak to him. A few minutes and I’ll be gone.” He muttered, leaving behind his lumen to the servant’s care. He easily bypassed Yin Yu who didn’t make any attempt to stop him. 

Strange. 

Having already memorised the route, he made his way to Hua Cheng’s study. But when he slid open the door, He Xuan was met with a sight that shook him straight to the core.

He Xuan expected to find Hua Cheng hunched over his desk, scowling over a mountain of paperwork. He expected to be greeted with a biting remark for interrupting said paperwork or to even be thrown out of the study without an exchange of words.

But he just couldn’t make sense of what his eyes were telling his mind.

Instead of acting like the workaholic He Xuan knows the flower bastard to be, he was -for a lack of a better term- playing .

There was a small, silver, overly hyper, lumen tugging at the locks of Hua Cheng’s hair. Clearly trying to divert the elder’s attention away from his task. Hua Cheng just smiled and went along with it, indeed even languidly twisting his head in the lumen’s direction, as if the puny marble could actually pull at the Calamity with its miniscule strength.

Crimson Rain ‘fought back’ by flicking his ink-soaked brush at the lumen, wherein a droplet of ink splashed atop the glowing sphere.

The lumen blinkered rapidly, as if in protest. Bouncing up and down in the air as it did so. In retaliation, it dipped its little body into the inkpot, deliberately covering itself with the pigment, and took a swipe at Hua Cheng’s nose!

With his nose and even the side of his cheek stained with ink, He Xuan thought surely , Hua Cheng would be furious over the marble’s impudence. Quite the contrary! The bastard laughed and even playfully made a grab at the lumen, which it happily dodged. Now thoroughly satisfied that it has Hua Cheng’s attention off of boring documents and back on its mischievous self again.

He Xuan swiftly left the room with a turn of his heel.

There was far too much sweetness in that study even for him to stomach.

Per Yin Yu’s suggestion, He Xuan decided to go to Paradise Manor’s excessively ornate dining hall and contend himself with the feast laid out before him. The annoying turquoise marble, his marble, managed to ditch Yin Yu and join He Xuan in the hall, hovering above the ghost in circles. 

Perhaps…. He thought as he ripped off the meat from a chicken bone …asking Crimson Rain for help now will be easier. He seems to be in a good mood today.

A familiar clink-clinking chime resounded within the vast hall. Announcing Hua Cheng’s arrival along with the silver lumen resting on the Ghost King’s broad shoulder, eagerly twisting its little-self left and right, as if it wanted to absorb all the hall’s intricate details. 

“Taking advantage of my pantry again? Shall I prepare the next feast for you?” The familiar sarcasm was about as pleasant as an open sore. 

Never mind. He’s still a prick.

“....you’ve still got some ink on your face.” He Xuan muttered with his mouth full.

“...” 

Unfortunately, He Xuan couldn’t revel in the flower bastard’s rare moment of him being embarrassed for once. The two lumens spotted each other and froze. 

Both ghosts tensed slightly. Two lumens acting like that when they’re in one room could be rather…unpredictable. In most cases they just ignore the other in order to coexist peacefully, but sometimes, all it takes is for two lumens to sense the other and immediately get into a fight. Usually because their counterparts already knew each other and were established as enemies. Those cases, while rare, could still happen here.

The turquoise lumen slowly floated towards the smaller one. Just a few centimetres from Hua Cheng. Said Ghost King sent He Xuan a warning look before training his gaze back on the larger sphere. Ready to bat it away at the first sign of aggression.  

He Xuan was already in the middle of standing up, about to stop the potential fight, when the bigger lumen darted forward and gingerly bumped the silver sphere. Almost in an affectionate manner. 

The two Calamities blinked.

The little silver marble was vibrating on its perch before it launched itself off of Hua Cheng’s shoulder and right into the turquoise lumen. The two lights collided, blinkering, excitedly circling around each other before giving chase. Darting all around the pillars and furniture….and eventually knocking over a vase that was, undoubtedly, worth more than He Xuan could make within a single century.

(The silver one was responsible for knocking it over, but He Xuan was certain that Hua Cheng wouldn’t see it that way. Semantics. He’d probably say.)

He Xuan grimaced. Just barely resisting the urge to facepalm.

Never had the ghost prayed harder for the floor to swallow him whole than as of this moment.

You’ve at least tripled my debt, you little shit! That vase had to be from the Han dynasty…!

He Xuan braced himself for the elder’s scathing remarks.

“Huh. I think I’ll take one-tenth off your debt, you lousy fish.” 

Black Water slowly opened his eyes.

What….?

But the flower bastard wasn't even looking at him. Instead, that one dark eye was following the smaller lumen as it continued its game of hide-and-seek with its new playmate, absentmindedly rubbing off the ink from his cheek as he did so. He Xuan didn’t ever think he’d see that glacial gaze melt into something so warm . As if Crimson Rain did not wish to miss a single moment of this absurd display.

He so badly wanted to mock the elder for going all soft, but He Xuan kept his mouth shut, lest the prickly ghost go back on his word.

There was a time and a place to pick his battles. This was not one of them.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Excited giggles and playful shrieks echoed within an untidy chamber.

A bright red blur zoomed past the inn’s window, a slightly larger grey blur hot on its tail. They had already knocked over almost every single piece of furniture within the small rented room, their game of tag had elongated past the point of reason and there was no clear winner, but neither seemed to have tired from this nonsensical game.

His red star shielded itself by hiding on the other side of the bed. One of the two things that hasn’t been toppled in their little game. It swished itself side-to-side. Almost taunting its younger opponent. 

The boy retaliated by taking a literal leap of faith, only he overshot! The child’s leg snagged on the crumpled blanket on top of the bed, he tumbled shoulder first onto the floor in a pile of tangled limbs and cloth. 

“Ow!” He yelped as his shoulder made contact on the hardwood. 

The red lumen froze mid-air. The black splotch at the centre shuddering in dismay. 

Five year-old Wei Ying popped his head out of the blanket and flashed the lumen a bunny-tooth grin.

“I’m okay!” 

His lumen didn’t seem to hear him, though! The bright ball immediately started fussing over the boy. Apologetically brushing itself against the bruised shoulder in soothing circles.  

“A-Ying’s okay! Promise!” Wei Ying exclaimed, giggling. His red star could get so protective at times! The little boy was silently preening at the attention when something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. 

The other thing that they haven’t knocked over. Neither of them dared to.

Wei Ying gently pushed away his lumen and carefully detangled himself from the blanket. He slowly made his way to the metal pot filled to the brim with uncooked rice, keeping the burnt out incense stick upright.

His parents were never able to afford a proper incense burner.

Without a word, the boy plucked out the stick, put it atop the growing pile of burnt out sticks and left a new incense in its place. 

They’ve never been gone this long…. Wei Ying thought as he lit up the incense. 

He noticed the red lumen take on a greyish hue. The sphere lowering itself until it was only a few inches off the floor.

“Don’t worry!” The child assured the lumen. Thinking that it was also worried. “A-die and A-niang will be back in no time!”

The large lumen merely made its way over to the boy and affectionately booped itself on Wei Ying’s nose. Inciting a small, precious giggle from the lad.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He quietly lifted the lid off of the decorative pot and looked inside.

Only to be met with an empty bottom.

Not here.

He stooped down and peeked underneath the divan that he usually favoured. 

Not there.

He made his way down the hallway and checked behind each curtain.

Not there, either.

The longer Hua Cheng looked, the deeper the frown etched into his face. He was certain that he’d already checked all of its typical hiding spots. 

In a last ditch effort, Hua Cheng decided to check his personal chambers.

If it's not there, he’ll work Yin Yu to the bone for his negligence. How could he lose it like that?

Hua Cheng strode across the empty bedchamber and carefully scanned the dollhouse resting on the windowsill. 

It was fairly common practice. Encouraged even. Buying a dollhouse for your soulmate’s lumen was considered a great act of love, to show that their Chosen also had the lumen’s comfort in mind and to deepen the bond between the two. Many merchants saw this as a great opportunity to make lavish-looking dollhouses with cheap materials and sell them to nobility and royalty alike at inflated prices. A lot of them would walk away with fattened coin-purses and a snigger at having fooled their ignorant customers. 

After a few hours of browsing the shops in Ghost City, Hua Cheng deemed none of the dollhouses on display as worthy for his lumen and decided to just make one himself. 

(He was sure that Yin Yu was sporting a funny expression behind his mask when he made that announcement, Hua Cheng just couldn’t prove it.)

The blueprints for the dollhouse were rather…amusing. 

Hua Cheng had asked his little star in a series of yes-no questions on its preferences, how many floors and pagodas would it like to have, did it wish for a mini-garden and a lake, flooring plans, room locations, etc. 

Only to realise that the lumen was giving him the exact descriptions of Paradise Manor. 

Typical. I try to spoil it and it only wants the bare minimum. 

Still, he was never going to forget the silver lumen’s excitement once Hua Cheng finished carving out the final details and put the miniature furniture in their proper places. Zooming around at dizzying speeds as it went room to room, trying out the movable doors and cabinets, resting on the cushions and beds Hua Cheng painstakingly stuffed and sewed, marvelling at its new home. 

The memory was enough to pull the corners of his mouth upwards. Sour mood slightly lifted.

Hua Cheng broke out of the happy recollection when he heard the sound of rustling sheets. 

Wide-eyed, he made his way to the fanciful bed where a cushion seemed to be trembling non-stop.

Hua Cheng gently lifted it and looked at the little one hiding underneath. Its vibrant light had turned a dull grey.

“Little star…?” He uttered, concern leaking into his softened voice. 

The poor thing was shaking so bad and appeared to have taken refuge beneath the pillow for warmth. This winter had been particularly harsh, but the lumen almost never showed such a severe reaction to the changing temperature. 

With a flick of his sleeves, several butterflies shot out and immediately got to work on the chamber’s fireplace, while Hua Cheng gently scooped up the shivering sphere. He frowned, concern gave way to worry. The lumen was as cold as ice.

He wrapped a fur blanket around himself and carefully tucked the silver orb into the collar of his rob. Deliberately heating up his body as he did so. Hua Cheng gingerly sat near the now crackling fireplace, the curling flames radiating a much needed sense of warmth and cosiness for the quivering sphere. 

Despite all these efforts, the lumen did not seem to be getting any warmer. It just tucked itself closer to Hua Cheng’s chest.

Hua Cheng’s brows furrowed further. That feeling of uneasiness blaring louder in his mind.

Something’s wrong. 

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Moonstone eyes vacantly watched as the snowflake slowly drifted from its place among the grey clouds, lower, lower, lower…… until it finally became one with the ground covered in unmelted snow. 

The little nine year-old was curled up in an alleyway, shivering uncontrollably, with no gloves or shoes, a pile of snow forming at the top of his head and wetting his hair, his tattered robes doing a poor job at protecting his body from the cold. Teeth chattering, nose dripping, lips turning blue, chilblains appearing in the form of angry red splotches all over his fingers and toes. Painful little pin-pricks would flare up every time he tried to curl the chilled digits. 

After the innkeeper had kicked him out, Wei Ying had stubbornly insisted on waiting outside of the inn for his parents to come back. 

A-die and A-niang will be here! Just give me a few more days, please!

Still, it was kinda funny watching his red star turn an angry crimson and barrel into the innkeeper’s gut after he shoved Wei Ying out of the building. 

Now, it was the fourth winter and there was still no sign of Wei Changze or Cangse Sanren. 

The only thing that was keeping the child warm was his lumen. Wei Ying had to switch between keeping the lumen close to his chest then pressing it to his bare feet.

He saw what frostbite did to people. How the limbs turned black and blue and dead , until all you could do was cut it off before you rot alive. 

Winter also did funny things to the body. He would see many street kids near his age or younger that were once so energetic in the warmer seasons, slowly curl inwards, go to sleep and never wake up again.

It looked really…. peaceful. Just close your eyes and all the bad things will go away. Wei Ying wasn’t sure if he wanted that, though.

The lumen in his tight embrace was visibly shaking. Its hue had again taken on a deep red. 

“W-what’s..wrong..?” The little lad managed to stammer out. Wei Ying understood that the shade meant that the lumen was angry about something, but he wasn't exactly sure on what . He was never really good at reading the other’s thoughts. 

His red star just cuddled itself closer to Wei Ying’s chest, as silent as ever. 

(It wasn’t until years later, when Wei Ying finally met the man who he would one day call ‘husband’ did he understand that the lumen was simply scolding itself over the fact that it couldn’t do more .

Aiyah…! What have I done to deserve this? If there’s anything that fate did right, it was giving me you , Hua Cheng. )

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

During the last twenty years since the little silver lumen had made its appearance, it had not left Crimson Rain’s side and Yin Yu could honestly say that he had never seen his lord look this contended. 

Of course Chengzhu spoiling the lumen past the point of sense was part of the deal. His lord didn’t stop at the dollhouse, he went so far as to provide custom-made brushes and bamboo scrolls fit for the little one’s size whenever the lumen was in the mood to draw or scribble, make it little scarves and hats whenever winter season arrived, and even had miniature kitchen-ware prepared anytime the lumen fancied making one of its spicy dishes.

(Yin Yu couldn’t comprehend how Chengzhu was able to stomach those concoctions with an excellent poker-face, while showering the lumen with compliments for its ‘innovative cuisine’, but he’ll never say it aloud. He’d like to keep his job, thank you very much.)

However, all those sweet and ridiculous moments could never fully cover up the cracks that both Hua Cheng and Yin Yu would see in the little light’s mischievous nature. 

During the times that they would go out for a stroll around the city, they’d notice how the lumen would flinch and hide in Hua Cheng’s sleeves whenever a street performance involved the crackings of a whip, which resulted in Chengzhu banning anyone using it outdoors.

How the lumen would cower at the mere sound of a bark and quiver in the presence of an actual dog. No matter how small.

(The first time it caught sight of a dog, the lumen had shot like an arrow, launching itself off of Hua Cheng and furiously flown away from the canine, which resulted in the mutt to chase after it in some form of play. Both he and Chengzhu looked all over the city until they finally found the poor thing huddled up in a tree with a pack of mongrels circling around it. 

All it took was a flash of his crimson eye for Chengzhu to disperse the dogs and send them yelping, running away with their tails between their legs. Afterwards, Yin Yu was tasked with keeping any stray dog out of the surrounding grounds of Paradise Manor.)

No matter how many times his lord would gently question- interrogate the silver lumen, it wouldn’t give Hua Cheng any sort of answer for these alarming signs.

Then, one day it eventually accumulated to something truly terrifying. A type of change that was wholly irreversible.

A stain had formed within the pristine silver. It started off as a small misshapen reddish-black dot at the centre, growing and expanding like a fungus, until it practically enveloped the whole sphere and only left a few splotches of its original colour.

Hua Cheng masked his panic with fury. He knew what it meant. His other half was toying with demonic energy, an utter detriment to one’s health and cultivation, which was clearly reflected in the lumen’s behaviour, becoming less and less energetic as the months passed by.

Throughout the years, they were able to narrow down that Chengzhu’s soulmate was a young man who was following the righteous path, that he was taken in by a renowned sect, that he was a martial arts’ prodigy who mastered the Four Arts, swordsmanship and had a knack for talisman work. 

Hua Cheng would go on manhunts with this little bit of information. Subtly checking every young cultivator he came across, anyone who fit the corresponding age, gender and other criteria. Trying to track down and stop his foolish soulmate from playing with forces that shouldn’t be messed with. Yet, with every hint, every lead, every shred of hope or potential breakthrough, he would always hit a wall.

Then came the day when it just…quiets. The lumen, once vibrant and playful, always seeking Hua Cheng’s attention, simply stopped hovering all together and found refuge in the lord’s sleeves. Refusing to come out no matter how many times Hua Cheng would coax it with his soothing words or tempt it with gifts. He would take it to all its favourite spots, remind it of all the pranks it pulled, all in an attempt to improve its mood.

Nothing. No response. It might as well have been an ordinary ball at that point.

Hua Cheng was at his wits’ end, fear was now an ever-tightening noose around his neck. It was only because of Yin Yu’s suggestion did he go to the Gambler’s Den to take his mind off of the issue. 

The Calamity decided to take out his frustrations on the next fool who thought they could challenge him. 

He didn’t have to wait long.

A paranoid merchant, already at the height of his success demanded for his rivals’ businesses to go under, predictably lost all his fortune for his insatiable greed.

Next, a novelist who had run out of ideas begs Hua Cheng to provide him with his next muse in exchange for his priceless writing tools, he stumbles out of the den sans hands.

Then, an arrogant martial artist comes up, bets on his family’s precious sword in exchange for a rare cultivation manual. Twas an heirloom passed down through generations etc. etc. Wouldn’t stop whining about how the game was rigged after he lost his dumb sword. Hua Cheng ‘advised’ that he could win it back if he bets on his sword arm. The idiot hightailed out of the den with the patrons’ jeers keeping him company. 

Hua Cheng impatiently tapped his fingers against the armrests. Normally he’d feel a sense of boredom or smug satisfaction in the face of his opponents losses, but there was too much going on in his mind, a tumbleweed that wouldn’t stop furiously spinning in the sand. He felt tense and antsy, if he were alive, his heart would’ve been beating unusually fast. It was as if his body knew what was about to happen.

CRACK!

That awful awful sound echoed throughout the Gambler’s Den. The laughter lodged in everyone’s throats, all the smiles died, in just one second, every semblance of movement came to an abrupt halt. An eerie silence descended on the previously rowdy crowd. 

Everyone knew what that sound meant before their King did. 

Their lord became still as a statue, wide-eyed, a sheen of sweat breaking out on snow-white skin, hands tightly gripping the armrest until his veins stood out. Hua Cheng could feel tiny, sharp pricks all over the underside of his left arm, drawing blood and wetting the interior of his sleeve. Slowly, shakingly, he lowered it and out his little star came in a jagged blood-stained waterfall of shards, forming into a pile on his lap.

Hua Cheng thought he heard the watchful ghosts let out horrified gasps. He couldn't be sure, every sound that reached his ears seemed muffled and warped, as if he were underwater.

This couldn’t be happening. It was a joke, right? Another prank?

Yes. That’s what it was. Maybe his little star had learned some new trick and was going to pop out any moment to startle him.

But no. The ‘glass shards’ did not miraculously reform into the orb he so adored nor was it some kind of clever switch. 

Bit by bit the threads of his carefully tied control snapped. An oppressive wave of resentful energy flooded the den, driving every single ghost, demon and spirit to their knees from the sheer force of Chengzhu’s rage, even disintegrating a few that were too close to the altar. It was as if a mountain descended from the Heavens and crashed down onto each of their shoulders, forcing all the ghosts to bear its immovable weight. Not even the other residents in Ghost City were spared. Earthquakes of hellish magnitude erupted from the Gambler’s Den and reverberated throughout the city’s entirety, extinguishing all the street lanterns, leaving everyone in darkness as carts, people and buildings were knocked over, while demolishing others from the cracks that have formed within the earth. Every ghost near the den instinctively skittered away, having just a mere taste of their King’s wrath was enough to make them flee to safety. While back inside the den, the frozen ghosts watched in silent horror as blackish-red smoke permeated off of their lord, distorting the air around him. Silver-wraith butterflies now rapidly fluttering above him in a furious dance, E-ming had awoken from its slumber, wildly trembling in its sheath in response to its master’s distress, Hua Cheng’s one eye glowed an ominous red, hands tightly clenching the armrests of his throne until they splintered. 

“ Yin Yu… ” Even his voice was off, somehow coming out deeper and malformed, as if his vocal chords had been shredded and stitched back together.

“Yin Yu.” Hua Cheng spat out through clenched teeth, thinking he hadn’t been heard. Utterly pulverising the armrests with his unforgiving grip, driving the splinters into his palms and fingers. Not that he felt it nor cared. 

“I’m here, my lord.”

“Monitor all the ghost-fires that wandered into the city. I want a list of every single recorded death that took place within the last few minutes, search the entirety of the Central Plains if you have to.” He might as well have ordered Yin Yu to bring him the moon next, the sheer man-power such an unattainable task would need… Hua Cheng’s mind started overworking itself, trying to narrow down the search while at the same time leaving no stone unturned. “Dis-dismemberment…” if the lumen’s state was anything to go by… “Look into cases where a young man died via dismemberment or bodily mutilation.” Hua Cheng forced out, mentally shying away from the image, scarcely restraining himself from flinching at the mere thought ….

“My lord…” Yin Yu hesitantly muttered, wanting to interrupt.

Hua Cheng wasn’t listening. He had to stand up. He needed to get up and start the search.

But he couldn’t . Whatever remained of his little star was still on his lap. Hua Cheng will never forgive himself if he scattered the lumen’s remnants all over the filthy floor.

“ And for fuck’s sake call that stupid fish! ” The Calamity seethed, resentful energy swirling around, viscously lashing out. “It’s past time he pays off his debt with something useful. I don’t care what you have to do, just bring him here!”

“MY LORD!” Yin Yu shouted, tightly gripping Chengzhu’s arm and wrenching him back to the present. 

“Can’t you feel that presence?!” 

Hua Cheng’s eye widened at the implications. He attempted to centre himself and stretch out his senses, anxiously combing through the demonic qi of every corner, every crevice of his city, brow quickly furrowing in frustration when he didn’t pick up anything. Hua Cheng was about to snap at Yin Yu, when he finally felt it.

It was light and so so very weak. The yin signature barely discernible among the ocean of demonic qi permeating from Ghost City. Like a shrivelled leaf that rustled its way here, purely by accident, the wind being the only thing that kept it moving forward. 

A strangled gasp tore through Hua Cheng’s lips.

His soulmate was on his way here….

 ~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There he lied, ignorant to the ensuing chaos his abrupt death brought upon the poor residents of Ghost City, the young ghost was in a fetal position on the cold, grassless ground, utterly numb to the ongoing mayhem happening half a li away from where he was curled up.

There he lied, silver eyes vacantly staring forward yet not really seeing anything. The thought of moving or even twisting his head never once crossing his mind.

Wei Ying just wanted to stay like this until he can finally stop thinking all together.

The full moon hung high in the sky. Illuminating the empty field with its serene glow. Bright enough to make the black speck stand out from Wei Ying’s peripheral vision.

Wei Ying didn’t know what exactly pushed him to go and take a closer look. Perhaps it was an attempt to distract himself from this suffocating emptiness or just plain old morbid curiosity.

Regardless, the now-ghost found himself sitting up on his knees and slowly crawling forward to the round-ish object.

Wei Ying saw a lot of black, plenty of dark red, a few hints of white and-

Oh.

It was his own head.

Wei Ying blinked owlishly as he grabbed the head and laid it on his lap. Inspecting it with a detached air. Uncaring to the congealed blackish blood slowly seeping into his torn robes. 

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the half-lidded moonstone eye, identical to his own, Wei Ying would’ve thought that it was the head of another one of his fierce corpses. 

There was hardly any skin on the face. Most of it were torn off by blunt teeth or sharpened fingernails, revealing the jaw bones, muscles and sinew underneath. The nose and chunks of meat beneath the flesh were also chewed off, even some of the teeth were missing. The lower jaw was gone, leaving the now-purple tongue to just hang off from the severed neck. Wei Ying was somewhat surprised that it wasn’t devoured as well. The hair wasn’t spared, either. There were bloody bald patches all over the top of the skull, several handfuls of hair had been ripped off, taking bits of flesh along with the strands. 

Wei Ying doubted his own mother could’ve recognised him. The only identifying feature that would’ve linked him and this thing was that one eye, the other was nowhere to be found. With the way the stringy nerve hung out of the empty socket, most likely the second eye was plucked out and eaten too.

He looked around and noticed several body parts scattered throughout the field. A limb here, a hand there. Wei Ying spied a torso not too far away from where he was currently sitting. 

Did he have to reassemble his own corpse? Like some sort of macabre puzzle?

Why was he here? Where was here?

In the fashion of broken pieces of glass lazily put back together, his memories of what happened that night gradually reassembled. There were still several pieces missing, but from what he could recall, after copious amounts of his blood spilt on the cave-floor, they soaked into several half-formed experimental arrays that he haphazardly drew on the rocky surface. It must've resulted in some type of mutant spell that functioned as a bastardised distance shortening array. Wei Ying vaguely remembered all those scribbles glowing in unison, a certain pull ……and then nothing.

Wei Ying looked down at his own head again.

The head stared back. 

A ghost having a staring contest with its own head.

Unexpectedly, his lips started twitching upwards. 

Wei Ying pinched himself, trying to school his expression.

“Pfffh-!” He quickly clamped his mouth shut with both hands.

That didn’t stop his shoulders from shaking, though.

It started as muffled, bubble-sized chortles that squeezed past his clasped hands, turning into bursts of giggles of varying pitches and decibels, before finally descending into manic, body-rocking laughter, hot tears bursting out of widened, unblinking eyes, streaming down his face as Wei Ying continued to howl in complete hysterics, his mania echoing all round the field, cradling the mutilated head to his chest as he did so.

If a group of travellers stumbled upon this sight, they would’ve assumed Wei Ying had hit his head and turned into a complete lunatic. 

Head! Hah! Get it?! A ghost holding its own head. Wasn’t that just fucking hilarious?!

Maybe he did turn into a lunatic after all.

There was something warm urgently pushing at Wei Ying’s cheek, with enough force that it twisted his neck to the side a bit. His deranged chuckles sputtered to a halt as Wei Ying flinched away, near-feral eyes swerving at the potential new threat.

It was his red star.

Wei Ying let out a broken gasp. Almost choking on air as he accidentally took his first breath in this new form.

“ You’re still here…? ” He rasped disbelievingly. The crimson lumen’s surface was convulsing uncontrollably, similar to the rippling waters of a disturbed lake. Its black splotch shimmering non-stop, were it human, it would be holding back tears. 

The poor thing was forced to watch as its Chosen was having the mother of all breakdowns, distressed that it couldn’t snap Wei Ying out of it sooner.

“You’re still here…” He stated with a bit more certainty, shaky hands reaching out, to touch, to feel . Wanting- needing to confirm that this was real.

The lumen wasted no time, jumping into Wei Ying’s arms, furiously pushing the head away from its mate’s grasp. It rolled a fair distance away. Good. The further, the better.

“ You’re still here…you’re still here… ” Wei Ying repeated, a never ending litany of reassurances and comfort, both for himself and his red star. His hysterical sobbing turned to that of relief, expressing his tearful joy and sorrow without care or shame. 

The red lumen fiercely burrowed into Wei Ying’s chest. Wanting to shout: I’m here! I’m here!

“ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry . Wei Ying was wrong. An awful soulmate. This lowly one will never push you away again.” He whimpered pitifully, rubbing his cheek against the warm, quivering surface. Recollecting the past few months where he purposefully distanced himself from the lumen, even verbally pushing it away at times, Wei Ying was recoiling from his own abhorrent behaviour. How could he have treated his Chosen like that….?

The lumen was rapidly shaking itself side-to-side. Not wanting to hear or even see Wei Ying looking so apologetic again. He shouldn’t be the one apologising! Not that the ghost was paying much attention to its reaction. The lumen patiently waited until the shaking stopped, for the sobs to eventually quiet down, for its Wei Ying’s breathing to even out.

Once his emotions finally settled, Wei Ying felt the wave of exhaustion hit him with a vengeance. He was so tired . The young ghost was about to lie down on the cold ground and curl up again, this time with his red star to keep him company, but it forcefully wrenched itself out of his embrace. 

He let out a shocked cry. Confused and hurt in equal measures. Wei Ying was about to reach out to the lumen again before stopping himself. Hands lowering to clench his robes instead, head bowed defeatedly.  

What right did he have to-

Whatever self-deprecating train of thought he was having was firmly derailed once he felt the lumen urgently pushing at his shoulder-blades. Clearly telling Wei Ying to stand up. He hesitantly did so. Legs quaking from having to support his full weight. Wei Ying wobbled on his feet a bit, unused to this new form. 

It was at this moment he realised that his feet were bare and his robes? Most of the layers were torn off and he only had his underrobe that was barely hanging off his shoulders. It no longer looked white beneath all the smeared dirt, blood and filth. Wei Ying thoughtlessly felt the back of his head and noticed that there was no ribbon keeping his hair up. Leaving the black tresses to tumble down his back like a mournful banner. That, coupled with his malnourished state from when he was alive… 

At least Wei Ying looked the part of a ghost.

His red star was now glowing brightly. Wei Ying stared, fascinated and baffled as several tendrils grew out of the lumen, extending, coiling and firmly wrapping around one of his arms like vines, each end of the tendrils were oddly shaped, for some reason they looked like animal paws. But for the life of him, Wei Ying couldn’t say what type. 

His red star started moving forward, pulling Wei Ying along with it. He had no choice but to follow. Not that he minded. 

Wei Ying couldn’t say how long he walked. He didn’t bother focusing on where they were going nor was he all too alarmed at this strange development. A sense of calm apathy settled within Wei Ying’s mind as he distantly heard his feet crunching against the harsh ground, slightly wincing as the jagged rocks tore into the soles, listening to his own breathing, the night breeze whistling past his ears, with nothing but the moon, stars and his lumen to accompany him.

That bubble of peculiar serenity popped the moment he set foot in what appeared to be a city that had just been razed. Wei Ying’s eyes widened as they bore witness to sheer pandemonium. People-animals-demons(?) were everywhere . Some trying to help their fellows out of crumbled buildings, others stampeding and climbing atop each other, clearly trying to get away from something, all of them wailing and crying over how their lord(?) seemed to have finally lost his mind.

What was worse was that his red star was actively pulling Wei Ying towards the panicking crowd. He was forced to brush against other people, squeeze himself in narrow gaps among the throng of demons, experience inhuman shrieks and bellows blaring right into his eardrums, as the lumen purposefully dragged him to go the opposite direction of where the horde of spirits were going. 

The constant shoving, pushing, stumbling, tugging within a small space where he was at the mercy of those beings had Wei Ying break out in cold sweat, eyes popping out of his head to the point that the whites showed, his vision of this crowd intermingling with what he ordered the fierce corpses to do with him. Taking Wei Ying back to that night again.

“ Stop… ” He weakly called out, knees buckling, breath quickening. The lumen wrapped around his arm was the only thing that was keeping Wei Ying upright. “Stop…!” He called out again, hoping that it would hear . 

No more! No more!

His legs could no longer bear his own weight. Wei Ying lost his will to keep going and crouched down to the ground, using his free arm to protect his head. Instinctively aware that the terrified masses will likely trample all over him now. 

Except that didn’t happen. There was a flashing red light, blazing so brightly that Wei Ying tightly closed his eyes and used both arms to shield his stinging retinas.

Wait. Both arms?! When did his lumen let him go?!

“ Red star…! ” Wei Ying shouted, he couldn’t open his eyes. He was tightly wedged among the terrified rabble, unable to move his arms or even stand within the enclosed space. Heart filling with a new kind of dread.

Don’t go…. Don’t leave me too…

Gradually, the blinding light died down. Wei Ying was ready to spring back up and start searching for his companion like a man possessed. Only he didn’t need to.

There was a familiar warmth brushing up and down his raised arms. Soft and soothing.

It took Wei Ying a few seconds to register that he now had enough room to move. He instinctively grabbed at his lumen, firmly wrapping his arms around the sphere and squeezed. Were it any other creature, he would’ve been constricting its airflow. The lumen indulged Wei Ying until he ultimately calmed down again. 

Tentatively, Wei Ying stood back up. The previously screaming crowd, the one that had been toppling over each other in their panicked state and compressing him into a tight space had fallen into an abnormal hush. They’d even given Wei Ying a wide berth. Now, the demons stood statue-still, staring at the young ghost with wide eyes, pointing and whispering to each other, expressions rapidly shifting from terror induced confusion to cautious optimism.

Wei Ying felt his skin itch from all the gawking. No matter what anyone would say, he had never really liked being the centre of attention. Not when it was always accompanied with scorn and derision, people acting all high and mighty because they thought themselves morally superior. 

Had the Yiling Lazou’s shadow followed him all the way here? Was he forever haunted for his sins? Wholly irredeemable from his past crimes?

Even death couldn’t give me the escape that I wanted….

There was another insistent tug at his arm.

Oh, that’s right. His lumen was still here, securely gripping his wrist. Like a puppet, he impassively let the sphere guide him to wherever he needed to go. Anyone that was in Wei Ying’s way quickly skittered off to the side, as if the thought of them brushing shoulders was enough to fill them with fear. His features turned slack, almost doll-like in the face of all the whispers, finger-pointing, nervous shifting and evasive gazes. Let them say what they want, think what they want. Wei Ying still had his red star and that was all that mattered.

Several times Wei Ying was close to falling on his knees and just sit down on the street to rest, he’d lost all feeling from the soles of his feet to his thighs. But whenever the thought would tempt him, the lumen would let go of his wrist and gently brush against Wei Ying’s hollowed cheeks, blinkering reassuringly. He could practically hear the words:

It’s okay. You’re doing so well. So so well.

Just a few more steps. We’re almost there.

The amount of care this strange ball of light would provide his wretched-self nearly made him weep. Wei Ying will never understand what he did to deserve this. 

The young ghost stumbled and shambled his way into what looked like a gambling den, untouched by the disaster that seemed to have struck the rest of this bizarre city.

The uneven, rocky cobblestone gave way to soft, smooth carpeting. He was able to see his path much more clearly with the lumen, now too bright for comfort, instead of the den’s faint lanterns hanging above him. All the hushed voices that seemed to follow Wei Ying like flies unexpectedly died down. The only sounds that reached his ears were his own rattling breaths.

For reasons unknown to him, Wei Ying felt apprehension creeping up his shoulders, a stiffness in his spine that kept growing the deeper he got into the building. 

Even more alarming was that the closer they got to whatever was in that den, the more his red star was changing . It didn’t stop at those odd tendrils or that blazing light. The lumen’s colours were shifting, the black within breaking apart, each piece floating around the crimson interior at varying speeds, it reminded Wei Ying of a miniature snowstorm. The lumen was spasming so much that it was losing its roundness, becoming more and more of a glowing blob. Wei Ying could’ve sworn that the lumen was trying to force itself into a new shape. In spite of the impromptu changes, it never once stopped pulling Wei Ying forward or let go of his wrist.

He should be unnerved, he should be scared . This was out of his element and he didn’t understand what the hell was going on, but Wei Ying was more petrified over who or what was in the main hall that was making his lumen act-up like this. 

A shaking hand reached out and hesitantly pulled back the beaded curtain. The first thing that caught his eye was the altar with its red curtains drawn. As he slowly made his way into the hall, Wei Ying was able to see the outline of a man sitting on a throne. He didn’t need to look behind that curtain to know he was being watched. It felt like that strange man could see all the way through him, puncturing the young ghost’s flesh and bones until he was peering right into Wei Ying’s soul.

He winced. An instinctual part of himself wanted to shy away from that intense gaze. 

The lumen eventually stopped Wei Ying at the foot of the altar, letting go of his wrist. The young ghost’s legs gave out, crashing onto the floor. Finally gracing the abused  limbs with a moments’ rest. 

Wei Ying watched, entranced, heart in his throat as the blood red lumen started to disperse , breaking apart into tiny pebble-sized pieces, pulled by some unknown force towards floating silver shards that appeared to glow -another lumen?- the pieces furiously orbiting around each other in a radiant whirlpool, colliding in bursts of silver and red sparks that hurt the eyes, exchanging and mingling colours with every contact, the pieces reassembling, reforming into something else. Long bodies, four legs, claws, snouts, tails….

Wei Ying gaped at the two foxes now standing before him.

Well, one of them was standing. The smaller of the two tried to take a step towards the other fox, but tittered off to the side and smacked onto the floor like a newborn foal. 

The larger fox let out a low cry of dismay. Crouching at the other’s side, nuzzling its companion’s head, urging it to stand back up.

“...red star…?” He hoarsely called out. Prompting the bigger of the two to look at him.

Wei Ying studied the ‘fox’. The creature had a shining deep red coat, with thick white fur sprouting from its chest, long legs that blended from red to black, white-ringed ears that twitched playfully, a thick white-tipped tail that looked soft to the touch and its entire body the length of a man’s torso. The most remarkable thing was that it had one brown-ish gold eye instead of two. It looked like it was winking at Wei Ying, giving off a boyish, mischievous air. It was beautiful , majestic even. If it had a few more tails, Wei Ying would’ve mistaken it for a king of foxes. 

The fox’s regal appearance shone all the brighter compared to that pitiful black creature lying behind it.

The other fox’s fur was a deep black with a ruby-red underbelly and face, silver-tipped tail and moonstone eyes, matching Wei Ying’s. It would’ve given off a more subtle beauty had its coat not been dishevelled and unkempt. It also appeared to be malnourished to the point that its ribs were showing and had trouble standing on its own feet. Legs trembling with every attempt to stand.

He will never claim to be an expert in lumen-lore, but even Wei Ying knew what this transformation meant.

An odd clink-clinking sound echoed within the quiet hall, like soft bells tickling his ears. Wei Ying heard curtains rustling, approaching footsteps overlapping with those sweet chimes, getting closer to where he was kneeling. 

Wei Ying’s thought process stopped altogether, whatever breath in his lungs was viscously expelled. He needed to leave. He had to leave.

He tried pushing himself off the floor with his hands, smacking his useless legs when they wouldn’t listen. To no avail.

Of all the times that I could’ve met my soulmate, why did it have to be now?!

Why can’t fate just stop using him as the butt of every joke…?

Something wet and coarse glided across Wei Ying’s cheek.

Huh…?

The red fox was nosing the spot it had just licked before bumping its Chosen’s chin with its nose. Once, twice, thrice, until Wei Ying’s breaths evened out again.

The fox stepped aside and backed away. In its place, an elegant hand appeared in Wei Ying’s field of vision, steady and unmoving. 

There were no noticeable scars or blemishes on it, the fingers long and slender, the middle-finger had a red string loosely tied at the base, each digit topped off with black-painted nails, making the snow-white skin even more pronounced, the palm broad with thickened skin, there were also noticeable calluses on the fingers, particularly in the areas where a brush or pencil would be secured. An artist’s hand. 

Wei Ying swallowed around the lump in his throat. Reluctantly, he gripped the offered hand with two of his own, allowing the other to pull him up on his feet with ease. 

Unfortunately, Wei Ying’s legs still refused to function properly and he tipped forward, arms instinctively grabbing at the nearest object to keep his balance, which -to his horror- happened to be the mysterious man. 

Somehow, it ended up with the younger wrapping his arms around that person’s neck, ear pressed to their chest, while the elder enclosed Wei Ying’s thin waist with one arm, steadying him. 

Three realisations hit the young ghost at the same time:

One, the man was tall . Wei Ying by no means considered himself short and the fact that his ear reached the other male’s chest was a sheer testament to the other's freakish height.

Two, there was no heartbeat, which - obviously - this guy was a ghost too, but since that was the case, why was his body radiating so much heat? Did he do that for Wei Ying’s sake? Subconsciously aware of his aversion to anything cold?

Three, the elder ghost smelled lovely . There was a fluorescence that ringed of freshly bloomed carnations, coupled with an earthy scent that reminded Wei Ying of spring rains with rusty, metallic undertones. 

Wei Ying almost didn’t want to leave this spontaneous embrace, he couldn’t remember the last time someone willingly hugged him like this.

….didn’t he want to leave just a few minutes ago…?

Wei Ying was mortified. Both by his own perverse thoughts and the man’s seemingly endless patience. Any normal person would’ve shoved him off by now. If he still had a beating heart, he would’ve fainted from all the blood rushing to his head. 

The moment some feeling came back to his legs, he jolted against the man’s hold. Silently asking to be let go. The man quickly dropped his arm, as if burnt. Wei Ying backed up a step, hugging himself, gaze stubbornly trained on the other male’s collarbone. Not because he found the jewellery draped on it interesting or worth examining. 

He just didn’t have the heart to look at this man in the eye. 

The other ghost didn’t seem to agree with that idea, though. Those same elegant digits carefully curled around Wei Ying’s chin, gently but firmly coaxing the younger to look up.

The moment Wei Ying did so, he thought: Oh. He should’ve known what the fox’s appearance indicated.

The words ‘handsome, but feral’ would be an apt description. Flawless features, jade-like skin, perfectly shaped eyebrows, slanted nose, bow-shaped lips with sharp canines peeking out and a dark eye that appeared to be shining beneath the dim lights like a lone star.  

What a devastating beauty….. 

That same eye crinkled a bit as the man twisted his lips into a tentative smile. He uttered one word:

“Hello.”

“Hi…” Wei Ying replied back, equally breathless. 

The man - his soulmate his other-half - let out a slight laugh. Awed and relieved in equal measures. The fingers that were gripping his chin slowly drifted upwards, lightly cupping Wei Ying’s cheek. Silver eyes involuntarily fluttered at the unexpectedly intimate gesture.

Wei Ying didn’t need a mirror to know that he was in just as much disbelief. 

“May this one know your name…?”

“W-wei…” It was as if he’d just swallowed sand, he was parched . The younger licked his chapped lips and tried again. 

“Wei Ying.”

“ Wei Ying… ” The elder echoed. Slowly enunciating each syllable with an undercurrent of reverence and attentiveness, etching the name into his memory.

Like beams of sunlight breaking out of grey clouds, the man gifted Wei Ying with a smile, not the kind one would plaster on to calm a spooked horse, but a genuine smile, one of unadulterated delight. It was the smile of a man who at long last was able to put a name and a face to the person fate chose to be with him. 

“Mine is Hua Cheng. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“...sorry to have kept you waiting.” Wei Ying rasped out. 

Hua Cheng merely shook his head in reply. Gently declining the unnecessary apology.

Wei Ying felt his heart lurch at the familiar gesture.

His lumen never did like it whenever he told it ‘sorry’.

Against his will, tears pricked up at the corners of his eyes, clinging to his lashes.

Gods, what was wrong with him…?

Feeling far too vulnerable for comfort, Wei Ying looked away, tightly clutching his ruined robes, shivering slightly.

There was a small pause, the warm hand that was resting on his cheek disappeared, a rustle of clothes and then a new weight on his back, followed by that familiar flower-rusted scent.

Wei Ying blinked. Hua Cheng had just draped his outer robe on his shoulders.

“You look like you needed it more than me.” He swiftly answers in response to the younger’s inquiring gaze.  

“...thanks.” What else could he possibly say? Wei Ying knew the sorry state that he was in. He clutched the crimson robe tighter around his body, feeling all the more self-conscious. 

Wei Ying thought he heard Hua Cheng let out a slight gasp.

“Your feet…” He uttered, dismayed.

Wei Ying peered down at the limbs in question and let out a small ‘oh’.

If his state of dress was bad, this was even worse. His feet were caked in mud, grime and dried blood. So much so, that he couldn’t even see his own skin. All of his toenails had dirt beneath the nail beds, some were even chipped. Adjusting his weight to his heels, Wei Ying let out a low hiss as he felt the pointed stones and debris stuck in his soles shift with the motion.  

If Wei Ying saw anyone’s feet in a similar condition, he would’ve demanded that they get medical treatment immediately or risk getting an infection followed by a swift amputation, but since he was already dead….

He met Hua Cheng’s troubled gaze with a shrug.

“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Besides, I’ve had worse.”

He really couldn’t have picked a more atrocious response if he tried. Wei Ying watched as Hua Cheng’s brow furrowed, numerous emotions flickered in his eye, the elder pursed his lips and got close - too close! - to the younger ghost.

“What are you doing?!” Wei Ying yelped. Backing away from the sudden movement.

Having noticed that he had startled the young man, Hua Cheng dropped his previously outstretched arms.

“You can’t honestly expect me to just leave you to walk around like this.”

“And you’re going to…what? Carry me? I’m fine . It’s not like this will kill me, anyway!” 

Hua Cheng’s expression tightened. He looked frustrated, as if there was something that Wei Ying just wasn’t getting. 

The elder eventually lowered his head, black hair falling around his face, concealing his features. Hua Cheng let out a quiet sigh. 

“Indulge me just this once and I’ll never ask this of you again.” He requested softly.

The way this ghost -this lord , for who else could Hua Cheng be?- acting so docile, so subdued, towards a fledgling spirit like him made Wei Ying’s stomach churn.

“You don’t have to….I’m not worth the trouble.”

“ Wei Ying .” The shift in tone made his ears prick. Dark eye looking at him steadfastly before continuing “I’ve lived over twenty years with your lumen. This hardly counts as trouble.” A slight, secretive smile played on Hua Cheng’s lips, one that spoke of colourful tales and impish stories. 

Wei Ying tightly clenched the robe to his chest. Hands shaking.

Stubborn man….

“...fine. If you insist.”

For a moment, Wei Ying thought he was floating, arms immediately snaking around the man’s neck once more as he found himself in a maiden's-carry. Hua Cheng gave Wei Ying a few moments to adjust comfortably in his hold, frowning deeply when he felt that the younger ghost was far too light for someone his size. He steadily made his way out of the den, careful not to jostle Wei Ying too much.

Do I even weigh anything to him…? 

A sudden thought struck him.

“Red star….!” How could he have forgotten?! He never went anywhere without it. Wei Ying craned his neck to look over Hua Cheng’s shoulder, ear brushing against the side of the man’s head as his eyes rapidly darted around the place.

“He’s fine.” Hua Cheng assured, warm breath licking the shell of Wei Ying’s ear. His chest vibrated with his next words “Yin Yu has them.”

Wei Ying reflexively shivered at that. Thinking he was cold, Hua Cheng raised his body temperature slightly and tightened his hold. Hoping that it would warm up the younger.

Wei Ying ignored the nervous fluttering in his belly and focused on the scene unfolding behind them. This ‘Yin Yu’ -likely a servant of sorts- was crouching down at the two foxes’ level, blanket at the ready. The smaller of the two was wobbling its way towards the waiting man, leaning against the bigger fox for support.

Perhaps it was the sweetness of the scene, perhaps it was the exhaustion finally catching up to him, but Wei Ying found himself completely dropping his guard, mind going blank as he did so. He rested his forehead against the other’s shoulder, eyelids becoming too heavy for him to keep open anymore. The steady pace created a soothing rhythm, further coaxing his drowsy mind to just close his eyes and go to sleep. 

“ Rest , Wei Ying. I promise that nothing will disturb or harm you here. Not anymore.”  

***Bonus scene***

After having the best bath of his (un)life and his poor feet tenderly wrapped in bandages and ointment, Wei Ying found himself lying on a massive bed in a room fit for a king (which had a dollhouse sitting on the window sill for some strange reason). 

He was lying down on his side, blankets up to his chin, watching the two foxes cuddling together on the pillow next to his head. 

Mind repeating the same confusing turn of events for the nth time. 

“Wait! Why are you giving it to me? Isn’t it your fox?”

Hua Cheng gently shook his head. His gaze noticeably softened at the sight of the red fox hovering over the black one. Tail swishing back-and-forth in slight agitation.

“I don’t have the heart to separate them. You don’t mind keeping them in your room for the night, do you?”

‘Your’ room. As if Wei Ying now had somewhere to belong in this grand mansion.

“I’m gonna need to come up with a new name for you.” He said, out of the blue. The red fox twitched its ears, questionably looking at its Chosen. 

“I can’t just keep calling you ‘red star’. It doesn't suit you anymore.” Wei Ying babbled on in explanation. The red fox let out a low chitter of agreement.

“And you….!” He pointed at the smaller fox, making it blink its silver eyes in confusion. “You need to start eating more. And groom yourself! You can’t always rely on red star to take care of you.”

The red fox let out a higher-pitched chitter. Agreeing with some points and disagreeing with others.

Wei Ying reached out a hand and carded his fingers through the red, warm fur. Marvelling at its softness.

He stretched his neck and planted a lingering kiss on the fox’s forehead. The creature fluttered its eye in contentment. 

“Good night, you two.” Wei Ying mumbled, drifting off to a -thankfully- dreamless sleep.

In a study on the other side of Paradise Manor, Hua Cheng was startled out of his thoughts when he felt someone lightly running their hand up and down his back. The touch warm and the fingers nimble.

There was no one in the room with him. 

The phantom stroking faded to a stop. He was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he felt something warm and slightly damp brush against his forehead, gentle as a petal’s touch.

Hua Cheng layed a cool hand on heated cheeks.

Does his soulmate not know?

Tomorrow . He’ll educate Wei Ying about lumen-etiquette tomorrow....

......and why he shouldn’t just let anyone touch his fox. 

End. 

Thanks for reading! Hope ya enjoyed!

[babsvibes]

Louigan Week Day 2: Idea/Pretend

Art by @zzattur | Commission info available through DM!

“It’s all bullshit. Tells are supposed to be representative of the person; they’re supposed to balance each other. But destiny screwed mine up."

A soulmate AU where each person has their own identifying tell, and Louise isn't happy with hers. You can read Dread String of Fate here!

[getossluttywaist]

String of fate - Geto Suguru

"According to legend, this thread emanating from the heart doesn’t end at the tip of the finger. It continues in the form of an invisible red string, which ’’flows’’ out of your pinkie and goes on to intertwine with the red strings of other people — connecting your heart with theirs. People who are connected are destined to meet"

A Geto Suguru fanfiction - AU where Geto never started the cult and the main character has the power to control the string of fate.

Hi everyone! i essentially was thinking of a power for an OC and come up this the string of fate idea and one thing lead to another and i wrote this :') this is my first time writing like this so if you have any feed back please let me know!! I will probably turn this into a fanfic ~k

The world stopped moving; she felt the little red string that had always been tied to her pinky loosen. She stopped focusing on the enemy she was currently battling, frantically searching for him. She looked down at the string, grabbing it desperately, she pulled other strings to her body to travel to him, her instincts to go to him taking over her. 

 The ringing in her ears drowned out the yelling, the screams for help, the sound of death. She knew the enemy would follow; she knew they would catch up to her. If she lost him, there would be no point in fighting anymore. The string she gripped in her hand, lead to her lover. She hoped that the tighter she held onto him, onto his string, his fate would stay the same. She saw his figure from afar, he was fighting one of the sorcerers. She could feel his string becoming shorter, she could feel his fate changing. 

She hurried her speed, pulling at different strings to try and decrease the distance between them.  “It’s not fast enough,” she cried in desperation to make the strings move her faster, causing her voice to become weak. Her vision was becoming distorted as tears began to fill her eyes. She held onto her tears, she refused to let them fall, refusing to accept what was happening.

She let out a desperate scream, a plea to him, to the gods above, to anyone as she watched the sorcerer deliver her lover's new fate to him. She watched as he stumbled, holding his side. The world started to move slowly as she watched the events unfold before her.  Dread began washing over her body, her eyes were locked onto him out of fear that if she looked away for a single moment he would disappear. 

As she rushed to him, her focus on him caused her to crash into rubble causing her to stumble, she let out a curse under her breath as she tried to increase the speed of the strings attached to her. He looked up at her, watching her rush to him. He smiled softly at her; he was speaking to her but she was still too far to hear. 

She pulled on his fate, trying to change it, trying to save him. She could feel the string loosening around its previous place on her pinky, she was loosing her grip on the string, no matter what she did the string became weaker, it became shorter. The proof of the love they shared, her hopes, her dreams, the reason she was fighting, was slipping from her grasp. 

She detached herself from the strings and rushed to guide him as he fell to the ground, his clothing was saturated in blood, the air carried an overpowering metallic scent to her nose. She was running out of time. She couldn’t think straight; the fear of losing him was consuming her thoughts.

 “I need to heal him; I can heal him,” her voice trembled and broke. She was clinging onto any bit of hope, any delusion where he could be saved, unable to accept the sight before her. She placed her hands on his wound to hold pressure, trying to stop the bleeding. She began looking around, using whatever strength she had left, trying to summon another fate string for him; she frantically searched for a string that didn’t end. she touched every possible fate string, flashes of the inevitable destroyed any hope that remained, they all ended the same.  

 “No, no, no, no, no, there has to be one that doesn’t end!“ she yelled, panic was consuming her. She searched other strings to add to the shortening one, looking for anyone or anything that could heal him.

She could see all of the possible deaths of a person; she could protect a persons fate string; she could have prevented this; she could have saved him. Why didn’t she stay with him? Why did she let her guard down? Why didn’t she see this fate? Every thought of how she failed him was ripping her apart. The guilt was added to the regret and despair that filled her, beginning to overflow.  

As she looked at his wound she noticed the blood was starting to slow; false hope started to fill in her heart. “The bleeding, it’s slowing down!“ she had some foolish hope that if she could convince herself he was okay, that he would be. But the amount of blood that had poured from his body gave her the harsh reality she desperately wished was just a trick. 

He placed his hands on hers, giving then a gentle tap; her focus was back on the man below her. His face was pale, his eyes were dull and sunken in, a stark contrast to the face that she had seen just hours ago. She longed to see his eyes sparkle as he laughed; she longed to see his smile one last time. 

“I’m happy you’re the last person I got to see,“  His voice was weak, his breathing was shallow, he could barely bring his hand to her cheek as he rubbed his thumb over her lips gently. He smiled at her lovingly, his eyes scanned her face taking in every freckle, every blemish every curve, making sure to engrave it into his memory. 

She let out a desperate laugh, at his words. “If I hide my face will that make you stay?” As she spoke, her voice broke; a sob escaped her; her question made him let out a soft breath of amusement. 

“Please don’t leave me, I need you.” She pleaded, the sadness she felt was filling her lungs, She couldn’t breathe; She was drowning. He was all she had left; he was supposed to be there forever. The string that connected the two started to unravel and fade, flashing images of what would have been, in her mind; breaking her heart even more.

“Promise me you will find me in our next life?” His voice had grown softer, the pain of speaking evident in his face. 

“Only if you promise to wait for me,” her bottom lip trembled as his eyes filled with tears, he was scared but he would never admit it; she knew him well enough to know that. She watched through tear filled eyes as he lifted his arm holding out his pinky. 

She placed the finger that once had their future wrapped around it, in his, sealing their new fate. They both watched as a new red string appeared on her finger, neatly tied in a Knot. 

His wound had stopped bleeding. 

She brought her hand to hold his up as she felt his hand become limp. She leaned into his touch letting the pain consume her; she felt as if her chest was being torn open, like her head was being held underwater. He had taken her heart with him, she didn’t stop it. Her heart, her soul belonged with him. 

She looked at the little red string that was tied to her pinky, in the place where the string that once connected the two lovers had been; a reminder of their promise. Her heart sank as she watched another string shortened; she felt a mixture of despair and relief as her fate changed.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - LV

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Fic is rated explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter on AO3 here. MC's dress || Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich, performed by The Dixie String Quartet is on the Spotify playlist.

You nestled the last pin in your hair and admired your handiwork in the vanity for a moment. Perfect. Nothing would interfere with your mask nor felt uncomfortable.

In the mirror, your eyes flickered to the doorway to your dressing room, where Zandik leaned against the doorframe halfway dressed. He’d been there ever since you began working on your hair, suspenders dangling, only moving his head to momentarily look at something else. Some might have found such moments unnerving, this habit of his to watch and look and listen; for you, his presence was akin to a hug or a kiss on the forehead. Just another demonstration of his affection.

Tonight, you would go without the extra headpieces to conceal yourself. Hiding your hair would only draw more attention, after all, and you were already at the mercy of entering the ball alongside Zandik.

To do anything else, such as enter apart but spend the rest of the evening with him, would only bring more questions.

Hiding you, shielding you and keeping you to himself made sense, once upon a time. Deep down, you were certain Zandik still wanted to. There was a flatness in his bottom lip about the topic and he often held you tighter when you were alone, savoring the private intimacy.

But he, of all people, knew the importance of freedom, of recognizing one’s true nature.

Make-up and hair finished, you rose from the vanity and made your way to the door. You pressed a hand against his chest, his once-soft dark navy shirt stiff under your touch from being starched and ironed. As you cupped his cheek, absently noticing his lack of earring, Zandik turned his head and took your hand in his, reverently pressing a kiss to your palm before his lips hovered over your pulse.

“Go finish getting ready, mon rêve.”

Zandik pursed his lips slightly, lowering his head before he pointedly kissed your wrist again and closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to go. It didn’t take being his soulmate to figure that out. Anyone of his caliber would prefer to be working and making progress over social formalities. As often as he carved out time for you, be it dinner or a training session or simply a quiet evening reading while you played, he sent letters explaining a delay or a missed meal.

“Am I not allowed to savor you?” he asked, his breath tickling your skin. “Before the trappings of formalities take us both?”

You certainly couldn’t argue with that.

He lingered only a second longer before a knock at the door broke the moment like a hammer to a mirror. Zandik gritted his pointed teeth, baring them for a second in a frustrated snarl, as he turned his attention to the sound.

“About time...took long enough...”

You parted, grazing your fingertips across his cheek in apology, and he left to address the interruption.

Left to your own devices, you closed your dressing room door and finished getting ready.

At first, you hadn’t been certain about the lace you picked out on a whim. Columbina sweetly terrorized the shopkeeper so you could browse in peace. Most colors would potentially show through the gown, leaving you with only a few options. The handwoven material was soft against your thighs and waist, the garter belt straps far easier to use than the ones you recalled from home (although perhaps that was simply the benefit of handmade anything).

It felt strange to be without a corset but the dress draped over you and took care of the structure and shape, as discussed with the seamstress. The neckline was twisted and asymmetrical, a swath of fabric covering your left shoulder while your right was bare, save a single strap as delicate as spider’s silk. Your back was bare down to the dip of your waist where a short train fell and pooled behind you.

The dress shimmered and sparkled with the faintest blush. It passed for a soft white, the slightest contrast to Zandik’s crisp and cool preferences.

Your satin heels were simple, as were your earrings. By other standards, including the Tsaritsa’s, you appeared quite plain. But anything beyond the mask in your hand felt excessive, given its prominence.

When you emerged, Zandik was in the sitting room, dressed and idly twirling something between his fingers. He wore mostly white, with the exception of a light blue satin waistcoat, cinched, and a blue and white feather pinned at his lapel. The usual gem worn in his harness was pinned to the center of his white cravat. His inanimate mechanical bird rested over his shoulders, shrouding him in a mantle of feathers. You caught a flash of light blue in the tails of his coat as they curved and fell past his knees.

His lips moved but you didn’t quite catch the sounds he made, the words foreign and low as his ears burned pink. For effect, you gave a small twirl, and it was impossible to miss the sensation of his eyes skimming across your bare back.

“I take it you like it, then?” you said, smiling softly.

Zandik closed the distance between you with slow steps and stopped only when he was just in front of you.

“You look like crystal stardust,” he replied after a beat, lips grazing your forehead. “Similar to when you activate your Vision in a fight. Quite striking.”

He took your hands in his and you felt warm metal slide over your ring finger. When he pulled away, you looked down and found a rectangular aquamarine roughly the size of your last knuckle.

“Zandik, what…”

“I did say it was not the Tsaritsa’s place to determine what jewelry you wore. A ring seemed...efficient. Wouldn’t get in the way of you playing but be enough of a conventional statement to keep others at bay.”

He took your hand in his and ran his gloved thumb over the edge of the stone. It glowed softly, similar to his absent earring and the various ornaments he wore almost daily.

“Whenever I think of you, it glows. It should also be able to carry short messages but that hasn’t been thoroughly tested.”

The glow faded slowly, reluctantly. Zandik let go of your hand and reached into his inner jacket pocket, seeking something.

“I modified the communications technology I used elsewhere. Gemstones prove more...difficult than liquids such as primordial seawater or Irminsul sap, naturally.”

“Presumably, it has a partner?” you asked, eyes flicking from his hand to his face.

You were rewarded with a raised eyebrow. “I can never surprise you anymore, can I?”

His mouth softened into a smile as he found what he was looking for. Zandik extended his hand and you reached out to pick up the cylindrical topaz earring, clear and without inclusions, the perfect shade of golden yellow.

Your power, you, in place of...

Zandik angled his head and you fed the wire through the piercing, securing it when it was seated properly. The curling tendril of his bangs wrapped around it. It didn’t look as out of place as expected, given the golden accents of his suit, but it would be striking for those who knew his usual appearance.

Last night’s dance swam in your head, overriding any remaining anxiety as the topaz in turn began to light up from within.

“Can’t surprise me? Absolutely not true and you know it,” you whispered.

Please with himself, he threw you a playful grin before he slid his mask into place. You did the same, fussing with the straps in hopes your hair wouldn’t be ruined.

Hand in the crook of his arm, the two of you made your way downstairs, ready to get this over with.

Formality dictated that, given you were not publicly known nor the spouse of the Second Harbinger, you were to enter the ball unescorted as any other guest. But Zandik was not one for convention and his enjoyment at the expressions on his colleagues faces was palpable as you descended the stairs together and joined the awaiting Arlecchino, Columbina, and another man with white hair and a single visible eye.

“You’re on time, Doctor. It’s a comfort to know someone can tear you away from that workshop of yours,” the white-haired stranger said.

He approached, his figure as imposing as the Captain’s from what you recalled. Even Zandik had to adjust his neck to look at the other man.

The introduced himself as Pierro and you curtsied, the gesture ingrained in your muscles; in turn, you received warm lips on your knuckles.

“I have not yet had the time to watch you play, as most of my subordinates and Her Majesty have. But hardly a day goes by without your music gracing the halls and I look forward to hearing what you’ve composed.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger,” you replied, reminding yourself to soften your smile.

“You’re familiar with the room’s layout, where the orchestra is set up, your cue?”

“Yes, I am, sir.”

He nodded, offered a kind smile, and then said something to Zandik in a tongue you’d never heard before. Your partner clicked his tongue, ears pink, and you caught something pass over Pierro’s expression when he thumped Zandik on the back twice.

“He was the stranger in the desert,” Zandik supplied quietly as Pierro walked away. “One of the few who can say they’ve seen my...evolution, so to speak.”

The rest of the gathering was a blur. Columbina hovered behind you, head on your shoulder as she asked Alecchino if the fabric of your dress was something she should consider next. You suppressed a shudder as you recalled the Third’s kaleidoscope eyes and tried to pair them with a fabric that looked like liquid stardust.

“You certainly would be able to hide not wearing shoes, my dove,” Arlecchino conceded.

To Zandik, the Knave said, “Interesting change, Doctor. I never thought gold was your color.”

“Of course it is, Arl,” Columbina chimed in. “It’s not like Regrator has a monopoly on a color. Besides, our Doctor looks quite healthy now, wouldn’t you say? A little less sallow? Happy, even?”

Zandik let a breath out of his nose. “Is that so?”

You stifled a laugh and were thankful that, not long after, you followed the expected protocol and found yourself in the center of the ball room. You weren’t the only guest (Capitano, Pantalone, and even Sandrone were not unaccompanied), which you were thankful for, but their faces were exposed, known.

Zandik flexed and you squeezed his arm in return as you settled into position awaiting the Tsaritsa. The Archon was escorted by Pierro, her dress as light as air despite the volume of the layers. The fabric whispered against the floor in the hushed silence.

She addressed the guests with a quiet but warm authority, not unlike how she first greeted you. Compared to the performances from Focalors in the Opera Epiclese, the Tsaritsa’s praise of Her Harbingers was grounded, full of pride and yet never reaching the fantastical exaggerations the Hydro Archon was prone to. The Tsaritsa’s eyes sparkled as much as the shining star on the sash, pinned over her heart as always, but there was a falsehood to it; a layer of ice that would never truly thaw.

You hoped your composition captured her oxymoronic nature.

Following your verbal cue, you stepped away from Zandik and passed through the crowd on the edge of the ballroom, escorted by one of your usual companions. Columbina floated ahead of you, her soft slippers gliding over the polished floor. A sea of familiar faces awaited you as you took your position and picked up the baton waiting for you.

You couldn’t use the one Zandik made for you, not without the risk of summoning your claymore over the heads of your musicians.

Percussion and strings came first to create a subtle yet solid foundation of the rhythm. A single woodwind picked up their cue, joined after a bar by the rest of their section for a warm, if melancholic beginning. Flutes picked up and carried the tune not unlike the birds that always welcomed the sun whenever it broke through the icy clouds every morning.

You wove the string section in, rounding out the composition. Grandiose in the middle, you gestured for a little more volume, listening carefully for any off rhythm or out of tune. Columbina’s harmonic vibrato rang through, an eerie chill dancing along the melody.

Everyone hit their climactic cue as practiced, as perfected, and relief flooded you. Halfway done.

Without an idea of what was happening behind you, you could only move forward and continue to pull everything together, beat by beat. Natural instinct took over, nerves steeled, and you let the notes envelope you as you moved everyone into the next section.

Your arms ached not due to exhaustion from conducting but longing. The last time you’d performed for an audience properly was lackluster, a shadow of your skills and heart, the strings on your cello more akin to sand between your fingers. A distant memory that felt so far away now. You felt full, proud, in the same way you did when you slashed your claymore through a mech and allowed your Vision’s energy to pass through you.

In this moment, every note, every gesture, was tangible, real. Coaxed and carried into the air, nurtured by the musician and by you, given a purpose and a place to exist.

You guided everyone into the final bar and closed the song with a flourish, the last of the brass section echoing off the walls of the ballroom. Applause exploded as everyone returned to rest position and you smiled, ushering everyone to stand and bow. Your success was theirs as well and when you turned to gaze out at the crowd, you caught a glassiness to the Tsaritsa’s expression that hadn’t been there before.

You turned and arranged the sheet music for the other conductor as you thanked everyone; there was little time for much else when you’d invigorated the crowd.

Expectations were shattered.

And now the evening was yours to enjoy.

Even when you were apart from Zandik, however temporary, the air felt charged. You half expected lightning to strike at any moment as eyes lingered on you. The Second was immediately swept up into conversations that were directly related to ongoing events. He was spared a single moment to congratulate you before his attention was divided, the vein in his neck prominent from annoyance.

Columbina pulled you along, Arlecchino never far behind, wine glass in one hand as the Third prattled away. The Dove kept most at bay, deterring only the brave or the foolish who wanted to ask about your education, your connection to the Doctor; what kind of person were you to write a musical composition and yet accompany a man so logical and cold that he often spent such events looking for a victim to toy with all evening?

Sandrone approached you only once, not deigning to look at your companions, and congratulated you in a tone you recognized as polite disdain. It was the same kind of placating that you received in Fontaine, a falsehood that exposed itself as the words were spoken. She, too, was among those who did not understand why, precisely, the Doctor would have brought you back with him. A musician with a talent for composition, who wielded a weapon on occasion, was nothing special.

There were others better suited to his interests, his passions, she said in closing; you smiled enigmatically into your glass and wished her a good evening.

The cognitive dissonance would disappear eventually once your soulmate finished his social rounds.

“Is she always like that?” you asked the two Harbingers.

“Weirdly possessive and thinking highly of herself? Yes,” Arlecchino replied. “Her mechanical knowledge is rivaled only by Dottore’s but she can never quite position herself to climb higher. I suppose that’s what happens when you shed your humanity and limit yourself to being a puppeteer of other marionettes though.”

Soon enough, however, the Third and Fourth had their own duties to tend to. Across the room, you watched Zandik’s earring glow faintly, and he turned to look at you for a moment. He nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the matter at hand. You would be reunited soon enough.

You looked around and made your way to the perimeter of the ballroom, where tables and chairs were set up to allow guests to rest. Not far from you, you caught sight of a large figure overlooking the room, his black uniform cutting a striking contrast against the white and gilded décor of the wall behind him.

Greeting him with a curtsy, the Captain nodded to you in silence and then returned his gaze to the rest of the room.

“You are the talk of the evening, Maestra. I hope you do not allow common gossip to concern you tonight.”

The Captain was a man of little words and yet when he spoke, he always managed to make the most poignant remarks.

“I cannot recall the last time nasha Tsaritsa and her Jester smiled as they danced,” the Harbinger continued. “She lost her true ability to love when Celestia took her beloved Sovereign from her and froze him under the sea. The Doctor is not the only one affected by your presence and skill.”

His head turned and you saw nothing but an inky abyss through the opening of his helmet.

“You would do well to remember that, Maestra.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

He straightened and didn’t speak again, instead continuing through the perimeter, ever vigilant.

Your ring glowed and cast the slightest tint of blue against the glass of sparkling wine as you raised it to your lips. You looked around and nearly jumped when you found Zandik behind you. The Third and Fourth excused themselves with a biting comment about lovebirds and slipped into the crowd.

“I trust you were in good company in my absence?” he asked.

“I was,” you replied, an errant hand reaching out to straight the feather on his lapel. “Finished for the evening?”

“My obligations have been met and I have every intention of spending the rest of the evening uninterrupted.”

Zandik held out a hand in silent request. You abandoned your glass on the nearest table before placing your hand in his and breaking through the throng of people to the dance floor. A jolt jumped through his fingertips to yours and ran up your arm, your heart expanding of its own accord.

Just like the previous night, you fell into rhythm quickly, Zandik precise and in-step as he led. The sensation of eyes crawling up your back, skimming your joined hands and how closely you danced, was offset by the way his scent lingered and how perfect you felt against him. The closest feeling to this was stepping into a warm room on a rainy day or entering your favorite cafe. Being pressed to him, in his arms, was like being home.

Around you, the air felt charged again, only this time you were certain that if it struck, you would die fulfilled.

“You were right,” you murmured as he spun both of you around.

“Of course I was. But what about?”

“I missed it. All of it.”

The hand on your waist moved to your back, fingers pressing into the exposed skin at the small of your back. Words failed to truly encompass what you meant and the thumb stroking your spine reminded you that they weren’t necessary for the man dancing with you.

“You’re talented, rooh 'albi. You don’t need me to tell you that. There is a beauty, a strength, that only comes with wielding that knowledge and hard work. If the cursed principles were so dead-set on pairing me, I’m glad it is to you.”

You settled your head onto his shoulder as best you could, even if it wasn’t befitting of the dance, the bird feathers tickling your nose. His scent was intoxicating, sandalwood and mint and musk, and for the last movements of the song, you pushed out all other noise and sensations except for Zandik.

“Can we go get some air after this?” you asked. “I’m tired of being surrounded.”

Zandik pressed his lips to your ear, his breath hot.

“You read my mind. I’ve just about his my threshold for nonsense for the evening.”

The song ended, and you resisted the urge to kiss him as you pulled away, your faces a hair width apart despite your masks. Not here, you reminded yourself, even though every part of you burned with something beyond pure need.

Your soul longed to feel his, connect and tangle and weave itself. It was more overpowering than any sensation you’d felt before.

And cut short too soon when a familiar voice sent needles up your spine and broke your reverie.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, Maestra?”

In a stupor, you turned your head towards Pantalone, a congenial smile on his lips and his eyes closed; he wore the face of a host pleased with his guests’ experiences.

You hadn’t seen the banker all evening, actually, now that you considered it, o ther than the line-up at the beginning. It was only polite that you danced with Zandik’s closest colleague, regardless of your own sentiments. Your partner had yet to let you go and if you truly had a choice, you would have preferred to decline and stay in Zandik’s arms.

But there were eyes on you and gossip spread quicker than wildfire.

“My pleasure, Lord Harbinger. But only the one.”

Zandik relented and you took your position with Pantalone as the next song began. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched blue hair and bird feathers as the other Harbinger moved about the room.

Did he suspect his colleague, you wondered. You’d told Zandik of your experiences, how cautious you preferred to be around the banker as of late, and he was no stranger to Pantalone’s machinations, either.

The banker led you in the dance in a familiar tug that made your stomach drop to your feet. He was on beat, smooth in his steps, but he expected you to follow him. You stiffened considerably, grateful that his gloved hands never seemed to touch your bare skin other than your hand.

“A wonderful performance, as expected,” Pantalone said. “You managed to pull a smile from Her Majesty, one that hasn’t been seen in years. A testament to your skill.”

“Thank you, my lord. It wouldn’t have been possible without the musicians I worked with, however. A conductor, let alone the composition itself, is only as good as those playing the music.”

“Ever humble, Maestra. For every commonality, there is a corresponding difference between you and the Doctor. The further you ingratiate yourself, the harder this will be, you know, when those differences truly take root."

You followed his cue to spin you out and when you returned, you narrowly avoided stepping on his toe as a response.

“He forgets himself with you around. I remember what it was to be enamored, attached, bonded. They succumbed to illness long before their time. So long in fact that I cannot remember their face clearly. But I recall their touch, their presence, and you would do well to remember that your Zandik has centuries on you. He will outlast you, surpass you, because that is who he is.”

What was Pantalone getting at?

He dipped you backwards, so low you swore you intended to drop you. For a man with a lithe figure, he had more strength and reflexes than he led on. When you were upright again, you spat the first words that came to mind.

"I don't intend to go anywhere. Face the truth and set aside whatever bias you hold, Lord Harbinger."

"And watch my closest colleague suffer when he experiences the inevitability of the lies you've created? Watch my nation wonder about the mysterious woman who is not a Harbinger but managed to seat herself so closely to the Doctor that she has to be some fearsome entity, bewitching even the Tsaritsa herself? I think not."

The music swelled to a close and Pantalone stepped away almost immediately. He bowed only low enough to be polite, gold eyes glittering through his lashes with malice.

“Enjoy your evening, Maestra.”

You were shaking by the time you wove your way through the crowd, grabbed Zandik’s hand, and found the nearest exit from the ballroom. Both of you found a courtyard, dusted with frost, and stepped outside. The cold air was crisp against your hot skin and grounded you almost instantly despite the goosebumps breaking out across your arms.

“What did he say to you?” Zandik asked firmly as he cast off the feathery mantle and draped the bird over your shoulders.

“That you forget yourself with me present. That you’ll outlive me, that I’m lying to you, worming my way into the Tsaritsa’s favor.” You paused, rounding your shoulders to press your face against the metal bird. “None of it is true. How can he come to such conclusions, Zandik?”

“Whatever nonsense Pantalone said is unique to his situation, one I’ve studied extensively. He’s given me a mouthful of drivel on more than one occasion, rooh 'albi. One’s experiences always color their perspective and they always think they’re right; they cannot see beyond themselves.”

You turned and faced Zandik entirely when his hand reached for you. Instinctively, you cradled his face in both of your hands, feeling the slightest hint of stubble already beginning to grow despite his shave this morning.

“It would be more painful to be apart,” you whispered. “Than to not know what this feels like.”

“A conclusion that doesn’t have enough evidence to support. But it is the driving hypothesis behind why we agreed to explore this, isn’t it?”

“Will you outlive me? Am I condemning you to an existence of absence, mon rêve?”

“I’m hardly immortal. I’ve extended my life and with a handful of exceptions, I’m human. I’ll die one day, same as you.”

Your breaths came out in smokey puffs, the chill burning your nostrils and yet you didn’t want to go back inside. Trembling, you angled your head and captured Zandik’s lips with yours, finding nothing but steady warmth, certainty.

When you opened your mouth, his tongue found yours with reflexive ease, tasting you. You craved more, one hand slipping from his cheek to cradle the back of his head and give yourself a bit of purchase. Hunger, need, far deeper than mere carnality, swirled in your chest.

Zandik broke the kiss first, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip with a satisfying pop.

“Uncertainty and fear do not become you. Forget the rest. What do you want?”

He breathed the words against the skin of your neck and the courtyard spun around you as his teeth grazed your flesh.

“You. Us. Whatever we carve out of this world for ourselves.”

Zandik peppered kisses along your jaw.

“Then you shall have me, musiqaa ruhi. All of me. Even long after every last star in the sky is gone and we are free of the shackles of fate that tie us together.”

The words carried both of you out of the courtyard and deep into the night, never out of reach of one another.