#but if it will keep going like that i will post only on mu ao3

[lucywrites02]

It's very sad that after a year of not writing at all, I finally wrote something I am proud of, and the only comments I get aren't... comments.

I get that people want to be on the taglist for this story, but 99% of people in my comments didn't mention anything about the story. No feedback, no real engagement. just asking to be added to the taglist. I know none of those people wanted to come off as mean or ignorant, but that's not the way you engage with writers.

I got 3 comments on AO3 that were really short and filled with key-smashes and exclamation points and they made my fucking day.

Meanwhile here on tumblr I got 14 comments, all asking to be on the taglist, almost none of them said anything about the fic. If you want to be tagged, that's fine! But maybe tell me a bit more. How do you liked the chapter? What didn't you like? Maybe you have an idea that I could use in the next chapters?

Just talk to writers instead of treating us like writing machines. Praise us, give us tips, get angry at us for hurting your pathetic little meow meow. Say something, literally anything

[pursuitseternal]

“Persuade Me,” Ascended Astarion tells you, a sub!Astarion, all tied up for you in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.9K persuasive dom/sub bdsm smut

Summary: He’s so terribly stubborn, it will take a lot of persuasion to get him to come around. All tied up, it should be easy, but no matter how *hard* it is, it will be… delicious for you both…

CW: bondage, sub!Astarion, tender confessions, possessive and stubborn Ascended behavior, persuasive bedroom techniques so effective, he tells you the reason he can’t let you out of his sight, why you are not just… some… spawn…

Based on “Just A Drop🩸”

Read on AO3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

How will you persuade him…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Lord Astarion all morning,” you give your most convincing look of worry, of concern and confusion. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, painted lips pouting as you close your dressing gown tightly around your body. “Perhaps try the grounds? Everyone knows he enjoys a good stroll in the dawn…”

And with that you shut the door in the poor trembling servants face. A brief flash of relief on their fearful countenance that dismissing them and shutting the door on them was the worst you did. You hear their poor feet skitter away. And then, you turn with a deep, contented breath to view the sight stretched in your bed.

Yours. And his.

He’s waiting. Patiently. Spread wide and tethered to the four posts of your bed frame, and most of all, your mouth waters to see that hardened, twitching, eager cock proudly erect.

Just as you left him.

Only now, his eyes are drawn, half-lidded, his tongue licking his lips.

“They will get suspicious eventually, darling,” he croons, all the tones of confidence as you draw alongside the bed, dropping your thin, little dressing gown to reveal you pale figure again.

“Let them,” you purr right back. “They wouldn’t dare enter without my permission,” you cock your head flirtatiously, “or yours. But since you are… tied up with other matters…”

“Puns, darling,” he groans, face twisting in a sour show of distaste.

“…they will just have to take my word for it.” You laugh slowly, sitting yourself beside his hip, a single finger tracing through the ridges of his stomach. Ignoring his little taunt, savoring his submission as your willing plaything for now.

“Liar,” he croons rolling his body to press against your ass, where you are perched almost out of reach. “You said Lord Astarion isn’t here,” he’s growling. Provoking. Straining against his binds that are restraining both him and his ever-growing magic.

You give him that wide-eyed innocent look, scanning the room, a show of searching, a pantomime that only makes him sneer playfully and shake his head. “All I see is my lover, my Vampire Rogue, who is being rather stubborn about all this,” you sigh as you swiftly roll to brace yourself above him, perched on your hands and knees to hover over his taught form. Tantalizingly close.

He groans, trying to lift himself to touch any part of you. But you are clever, you’ve played enough games on the receiving end of such pleasurable punishments to know just what you wish to do.

“I am allowed to be stubborn when what you ask for is reckless… painful… dangerous…” he’s snarling below you, his chin jutting up to make his shining fangs all the more fearsome.

“It has been months since the end of our adventures,” you reply in calm and steady tones, “months of solidifying our power, of eliminating the traces of our enemies and assuring alliances, even with old friends…” you think of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, and the tenuous agreement to turn his literal blind eye on most of what Astarion does. Trusting you to be the one to keep him in check from anything horribly nefarious.

“You think my consort… my queen… should wander the streets of Baldur’s Gate alone? Unguarded? Like some….”

“Adventurer and hero?” you interject.

“I was going to say commoner…” he sniffs, disgruntled.. “You’re so much more than that now, my love. Let me free and I’ll show you just how special you are… how regal and unique…”

You skate your fingers down the hard lines of his stomach, barely ghosting their way towards his straining erection. “Mmmmm my love, you’re always so good at persuading with your body, I’d like to give it a try.”

“You can try, darling…” he swallows his grunt as you finally touch him, just the pads of your fingers tracing up the underside of his cock. “But you’ll find my tongue is better suited to other… pursuits… than merely trying to give you my word.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you simper, you pout, lowering your head to place a gentle kiss at the joint of his hip. “I think all you need is the correct incentive… the sweetest persuasion…”

“What you ask will certainly take a lot to persuade me, darling,” he groans. “If you think I’m about to allow you to go without an escort around the streets of Baldur’s… hngf…”

You suck him hard, taking in as much of his straining, painful erection as you can until it jabs at the back of your throat and makes you gag. But that’s it. You release him with a deafening, sloppy pop. Meeting his eyes, they are glassy, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure.

“Hells,” he whines, bucking his hips erratically off the bed, even with his legs tethered and spread as they are.

“You want to rethink that assertion, my love?” you preen, crouched beside him, nested in the bedcovers.

“Never,” he growls, a playful smile on his full and pouting lips. “But I’ll join in your game all you want, darling. You’re burning for my cock as much as I am for you and all your deliciousness.”

“Is that so?” You simper, slowly lowering your mouth back down to hover above his aching erection. The closer you get, the more he betrays his anticipation as it twitches. You barely run the tip of your tongue around that ridge of its head. “Just a simple acquiescence to the little thing I ask of you… just to walk beyond our palace…”

“Not without me,” Astarion’s eyes flash, his fangs glinting in the morning light that seeps through the window. “Never alone, my pet…”

You take him in mouth lips again, loose and sloppy, just a bit of wet and warmth to tease him before you dodge away, avoiding the thrust he attempts to make for some relief. “Ah, ah,” you scold with a simpering pout, “we ask first before we start fucking faces, my love.”

“May… I…” he clenches his beautiful white teeth, forcing his words through them, “fuck… you?”

“No, but thank you for asking,” you taunt, running your tongue up that grooved underside, letting it linger along the intricate map of veins that weave around that hard, throbbing length. “Once you agree, then I’ll be more than happy to let you in… somewhere…”

He lets out a ferocious growl, a smile still playing around his lips, eyes craning above his head to inspect your bindings. Even as they tingle with a little magic, a little extra assurance against all his mighty vampiric powers now. “I swear, if I could shift into my newest form…”

“Your cute little bat?” you grin, laughing loudly as you take him deep enough into your throat to feel the vibrations of your throat. Then, you release another strong suck with a pop. “What would you do, make a nest in my hair?”

He laughed at that, low, dark, and rolling. “Tempting,” he hissed back, “nothing short of what you would deserve, darling.”

“To wander without needing to wait for you to be free from your rule… your duties?” you return your attention to that glistening cock with a hungry grin, “I’ll take my chances again.”

He squirms as you barely graze it with your lips again, just little nipples of that smooth, stretched skin up and down its shaft. “Please, darling, please,” his voice grows desperate, edged with need, “give me just a little of your body.”

“And in exchange?” you croon, gracing him with one last lingering suck and swirl around that blunted tip.

“I will take you where you wish to go,” he groans at the continued release, your little reward of rhythmic bobbing over his length as you take him satisfyingly deeper. “To hells with duties, if that is your wish.” Tone softening, he bucks into your mouth, his timing as always impeccable, jamming that slick hardness down your throat as you lower. You sputter and gag, your throat closing around him before you can lift away.

“Naughty,” you chide him gently, frowning with a hint of a smile as you creep to dangle your body over him, all hands and knees and swinging breasts. Breasts he’s licking his lips for as you draw nearer.

“Just a taste, darling,” he flashes those wide, pleading eyes up at you, “I swear I only need a little…”

“Mmmm, I’ve heard such beautiful lies before,” you raise yourself onto your knees, straddling those clenching muscles of his belly. A single one of your finger slips inside your own folds, and you let him hear just how wet you are. It squelches, sloppy and thick as you tease yourself. You ride over his belly, locking your half-closed eyes with his, wide and burning and dilated as they are. “Good rogues get the spoils,” you pant, letting yourself thrust those fingers into your dripping folds harder, faster. You spasm, riding your own hand, feeling his belly rise and fall against your thighs and cunt as you pleasure yourself.

You can hear the bed groaning, the wooden frame creaking loudly as he pulls at every binding. It makes you lick your lips, eyes fluttered shut to savor the way he’s writhing between your thighs, shaking as he comes undone to watch you panting. Always watching as you begin to come, trembling and moaning as you shatter, your arousal pooling over his belly. As you try to catch your breath, you let him look into your gaze, that feral, barely-bridled glow of red in his eyes. You feel his cock throbbing against your ass, twitching as you make the slightest of contact with where his is in deepest agony.

It makes you smile wickedly, leaning forward to proffer your slick and dripping fingers for his lips. You need not say a word, not when he opens, straining against his tethers to suck you clean. Every lap and lick of his tongue, he feasts on your cum, little noises of feeding in his throat, the same he has always made, lips bruising your neck in the wee hours of night.

You tug them roughly from his mouth. “Enough of that from you,” you chide, smiling. Taunting. “I give you a little, and you still have yet to give me my due, my love.”

He grins, licking the corner of his lip. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you, my darling… my treasure…? Have you stopped and thought, perhaps, why I won’t let you wander aimlessly into the open, outside of my protection?”

“Because you just can’t bear to be without me…” you tease him, a wicked smile on your face as you place a quick kiss on his insolent lips. He fights for you not to break away, his teeth biting into the swell of your lower lip. “Selfish lover that you are…” you mumble as he tries to devour you all the more.

“Naturally, my little love,” he pants as you raise up, a hand firmly pushed on the base of his throat. “Has it not always been so, darling? Your ferocious rogue always at your side? But now, my sweet consort, have you ever wondered why I can’t resist being just oh.. so… possessive of you?”

You pause, tilting your head, considering. You wait for an answer, but those full, smirking lips of his just press silently together.

“Oh, you wish for me to draw out your answer,” you needle him, an edge of irritation in your voice now.

“Isn’t that the point of your charming, little game?” he presses, tugging at his bonds to make them snap with tension.

“Then let’s play,” you smirk, neck taut as you cock your chin, posturing with all the dominance you can muster.

“Anything to get some wet part of you on my cock, my love…” he arches his body as you slide off his belly. “If you please,” he adds, extra silken temptation in his tone.

“You haven’t been good, but I suppose you require more persuasion,” you hum, “and perhaps you could use a more convincing sight. Until you tell me exactly why you insist on being my constant escort, at least.”

“You’re clever,” he hisses as you begin to turn your back to him, hand gripping that throbbing shaft, his pulse pounding beneath that smooth skin. “If you can defeat the Absolute, the Netherbrain, it should be easy for you to puzzle out why your vampiric lover can’t let his consort out of his sight for a moment…” He groans as you straddle those narrow hips of his, one hand sweeping his cock through your drenched folds. “No matter how powerful… or insolent she may be…” he adds, a deep-throated growl on every word, a snap as he taunts you.

You let him dip slowly inside you, barely taking more than the ridge of his tip between your thighs. Hands gripped on his knees, you feel his legs shaking, trembling to finally find some relief as you fuck him leisurely. A gentle sway, an agonizingly slow riding. And never enough to let him sheath inside you fully.

A mischievous smirk on your lips, you glance over your shoulder. His teeth are grit, his eyes darkened with lust and wide as he cranes to watch your ass, the gradual, rhythmic rise and fall as you pleasure him with total control. “Powerful, am I?” you gloat, taking him just a little deeper.

It makes him hiss, his eyes shutting as sweat begins to dampen his forehead.

“More than you realize,” he gasps, voice grating as he forces his eyes open to drink in the sight of you. “More than I have ever admitted to anyone… to you.”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth in that way he always has, “how sweet, my love. Is that why you keep me here, keep me at your side always? For my power?”

“Don’t forget your beauty that would launch nations into battles for you, my treasure…”

That makes you smile, makes your stomach flutter in expectation, and for your own sake, you take him in, all the way, until you feel the slap of his thighs between your legs.

He roars, pulling on his binds on this hands and feet to make the wood of your bed groan almost as loudly. “Please,” he spits, “do that again, darling.”

“Tell me more reasons, and I just might,” you toss over your shoulder at him, making him feel only the tip of his cock piercing you again.

“Why don’t you think, clever girl?” he hisses, trying to buck into your cunt, to reclaim that little hint of wet and pressure you gave him.

“Because I am your equal?” you grind with every thrust, letting your walls clench as you take him just a bit deeper.

“Yes…” he pants.

“Because you just can’t bear to be so far you can’t smell just how aroused you make me…” you giggle, splaying a hand behind you, over his navel, pressing against those hardened muscles of his belly as you sink all the way down.

“Gods, yes…” he’s groaning, licking his lips as you let him fill you at last.

“Because you’ve given me your power, extended your blessings…” you cant your hips slowly, still drawing him along, but he can only sigh, at last feeling the tightness, the wetness he’s sought for so long now.

“Not just my blessings and power, darling,” he cranes his head back into the bed with a sated sigh as you ride him. Even slowly.

But you pause. Clambering over his hips you spin around to face him, cock still sunk inside you, a hand gripped around the lines of his jaw, his chin, to make him look at you. “What do you mean?” you bite.

“Don’t you recall, clever girl?” He’s laughing under your hold. “That night, your final night… what more did I give you?”

Your mind races, your hips grinding, that need now built inside you too, finally feeling filled to bursting, his cock twitching as it drags right over that perfect, secret spot between your walls.

“Free me, if you please, so I may remind you…” he’s crooning, purring as you fuck him. “Please,” he adds, a little extra seductively, his face twisting in that way that makes your stomach knot as it always has. You spread your hands beside his head, eyes narrowed to see him gloating so smugly under you. His little order sends ripples of anticipation down your spine to pool even hotter where your bodies join.

Your hand shakes, your body now riding him of its own accord, even as you reach for the binding around one wrist to slip it off his pale skin. Instantly, his hand grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth as he sinks his fangs into your flesh. You groan, the wave of painful pleasure tearing through you hard enough to make you come. All you feel is his lips drinking you in, his cock throbbing as you spasm and ride him still through the clenches of your orgasm. You’re so full, so taken, so overwhelmed.

And he’s laughing, swirling his tongue over your dripping blood.

“Blood,” you breathe through your climax.

“Not yours,” he growls before biting into his own wrist in the same way. Then, he proffers that flow of his blood for your own lips to taste. “I gave you mine… I made you mine.”

You suck your fill, the tingle of his power, the rush of all that he is, all that he has always been, filling your belly.

“You are not some spawn, darling,” he smirks, that secret dancing over the full pout of his lips. “Your vampire lord gave you his own blood.” His words reach your ear through the euphoria of drinking him in. Suddenly, his hand pulls from your hungry mouth, fingers clawing around your throat. He presses, just enough to make your eyes wide as you swallow under his strength, his hold pulling you down so close to his handsome face. “Even a drop given to you, to turn you, it makes you mine… my consort, my bride, my vampire lover forever, beyond the touch of time itself.”

“Not spawn?” you rasp through his hold on you, a pleased, pleasured smile flickering around your lips as he stares with such longing and adoration up at you.

“No,” he purrs, “but it means I will never let you out of my sight, my power, my protection, so long as we walk this earth. I would rather burn the world to keep you with me forever than risk losing my bride for an instant….” You tremble, you gasp at the ferocity in his gaze as he pulls you down by your throat until your lips crash into his. He feasts on your mouth, groaning at the taste of how your bloods mix and mingle into an intoxicating flavor. Rich. Powerful. United.

Inseparable.

“What a good, good master,” you simper into his kiss. “You shall be rewarded…” You touch the binds again, they all go limp as he shakes them off. He growls his pleasure. He touches you everywhere, fingers sliding from your neck to claw into the hairs at the nape of your neck, nails grabbing for your hips. Legs now liberated, the muscles of his thighs bunch as he starts to fuck hard into you from beneath, feet planted firmly on the bed at last.

“Thank you, my dearest love,” he grins widely, wickedly at you. “I hope I need not persuade you to trust me. Never again forget what it means to be mine…”

“Your bride,” you simper, tasting the title on your tongue, face quirking in a slight and knowing smile. “And that makes you my hus-”

“Your master,” he lifts his head, the weight of his hand at your nape pressing your mouth back down, barely brushing his taunting smirk. “Your lover… your mate or spouse or what have you behind closed doors only.” Then he bites into your neck, fangs piercing like the razors they are. A loud moan slips from your lips as you shiver and shudder in orgasm again from the pain and pleasure. His voice cuts through just as sharply, “And you may only call me husband… three times… for all eternity…” His tongue laps the blood that spills from your veins and down your shoulder now. “Choose wisely, my dearest darling.”

You fight the pull of your pleasure, the need to go limp and just let him fuck you. Not after your hard won victory. So you pull from his mouth, pushing that controlling hand at your neck back down to the bed. “Of course, darling,” you give a naughty smirk, a defiant rake of your brows and flutter of your lips as you press to whisper against his neck instead. “Whatever you say, husband,” you hiss with pure, delightful insolence before you bite him back. Now it’s your mouth that makes him squirm, your control that makes his shudder and hitch as he chases his climax, seeking with reckless abandon the thing that you have kept just tantalizingly out of reach.

“You fuck me like this, my love, and you just might persuade me to get used to it…” he rasps, hands grasped at your hips to keep you steady so he can pummel you mercilessly.

“Ah ah,” you tut your tongue to chide him. “Remember, good masters ask before they come inside their brides,” you gloat, feeling that truth, that connection of your blood and your undead hearts beating all the stronger for it.

“Please,” he begs harshly through gritted teeth, his fucking undeterred as he waits for your word.

He slams up into you with all the more force, his face already screwing and twisting with how close he is.

“Yes, my love,” you acquiesce with a dramatic lilt. It doesn’t take long, not after he watches you smile and feels you clench your walls around him with all your strength. He roars, writhing and spasming as he empties inside you. Buried so deep you feel the tip of his cock twitching against the end of your channel.

You gasp, your sweat dripping down your temple as you watch him begin to still and relax beneath you. But you stay, cock deep and warm inside you, his thighs beneath you soaked with your mingled juices.

“So,” you pant, letting your own body respond with its own basking in the glow of your pleasure, as you slowly lower your body to blanket him. His hand strays absentmindedly through your hair, fingertips softly brushing your cheek with each pass. “You must have lots of ruling to attend to now that you’ve persuaded me,” you murmur, nestled against the hard bone of his jaw, tracing your finger through the pooling of his blood from your bite. You bring that finger to your mouth to suck it clean. “I’ll wait for you before I wish to venture out for the day.”

“Oh,” he grips into your hair, raising your head to look at him again, and your smile widens to see the intensity, the possessive glint in his crimson eyes. “I think all that can wait. Right now, you can choose, venture out and then fuck again until you’re begging me for more? Or fuck first and then venture out into the day, my love?”

You giggle, a grind of your hips to drag over his still hardened cock inside you. “Hmm, a tough choice,” you grin, scoring your own fingers through his hair, “perhaps you need to persuade me this time…”

[belovedstill]

when the candle goes out (light up your own) (ao3) svsss, yuefang | T | 4.3k, post-canon, hurt & comfort, past qijiu, implied spiritual self-harm, anxiety & depression spiral, before they get together (more on ao3)

After the successful prevention of the realm merge, Yue Qingyuan let Shen Qingqiu go. Too bad his heart didn't catch up. In which, after everything settles into quiet and dark, Yue Qingyuan battles with familiar habits, Sect Leader questions his purpose, Yue Qi fights and mourns the past, and Yue-shixiong finally gets some rest — all in the comfort of Mu Qingfang's presence.

written for @ficwip's all-ships ship week event, for day 1's prompt of "I didn't know where else to go". check the event out and join us in celebrating your ship 🥺

Full fic on ao3 & under the cut

After Shen Qingqiu leaves with Luo Binghe, it’s as if the Mountain’s spirit has left with him. Or so Yue Qingyuan thinks.

It shouldn’t feel that different; it’s been a long time since he actively, repeatedly tried to reconnect with Shen Qingqiu and keep some kind of relationship with him, apologise, try to talk to him. It’s been a long time since his efforts were rebuked time and time again.

A long time since he essentially gave up, darkening Shen Qingqiu’s step less and less often. By the time Shen Qingqiu left the Mountain, it’s been months since Yue Qingyuan visited the bamboo house on his own, with a matter entirely unrelated to peak matters (even if thinly veiled as such). It has been a long time, then, too, since this tense, strange silence has filled his life.

This time, though, Yue Qingyuan swears it's different.

Back then, Shen Qingqiu was still there, on the Mountain, on his Peak, in his house — perhaps not waiting, perhaps not even available, but there, somewhere familiar. A known distance away. If he only wanted to, Yue Qingyuan could go to him and pay a visit, undesired as it was. He’d be met with a cold, stern face in candlelight, a sharp remark, a refusal of entry — and then a door left wide open after a rigid silhouette had disappeared indoors.

He could go there anytime. He wouldn’t, of course. But he could.

Now, though — now the Qing Jing Peak Lord’s dwelling houses nobody, even if it is still full of the lord’s belongings.

Shen Qingqiu has vowed to come back from time to time, to keep up with his duties, to guide his disciples, to keep his peak running — but Yue Qingyuan knows with an alarming clarity that something has changed, irreparably, irrevocably.

Years and years ago, what could very well be several lifetimes, for all it felt like, two slave children vowed to run away someday. They waited for the right time, for the right place, for a safe enough opportunity which never came. They got separated. One ran away. One had to stay back.

One was left behind.

The one who was left behind managed to leave, in the end—just not with Yue Qi, and not from slavery.

With Luo Binghe — a demon lord — and from the chains of the past.

Yue Qingyuan has been a noose around his neck which tightens with each hopeful glance and each hopeful word.

…This way, at least, Shen Qingqiu is truly free, isn't he?

Some of these evenings, he ends up on Qing Jing, wandering mindlessly up the stone path leading to the peak lord’s residence. The late autumn air is crisp in his nostrils. Were he not a cultivator, it would surely hurt.

Evenings are cold and dark, with only the moon illuminating the way, and that’s only when the nights are cloudless. Somehow, whenever Yue Qingyuan visits the peak, now or in the past, the moon is always clouded over, rendering any light gone.

In the past, it didn’t pose much of an issue — he could always find his way to the lone bamboo house. Shen Qingqiu kept a candle burning in a lantern set in his window, conveniently facing Qiong Ding.

Yue Qingyuan makes his way up the stone path in total darkness now and trips over a lone stone in his way.

“Who’s there?”

The peak’s lord might be gone, but his disciples remain.

Left behind, Yue Qingyuan’s brain whispers, even though he knows it’s not the case.

“Stand down and do not fret, disciple Ming Fan,” he says in a tone much calmer than his heart. He hasn’t tripped since his own disciplehood.

Ming Fan recognises him in an instant. “Zhangmen-shibo!!” Robes rustle. He must be bowing. “Can this Ming Fan help in any way? What reason has Zhangmen-shibo to visit the peak?”

He doesn’t know himself. He doesn’t even remember leaving his own dwelling.

“No need for concern,” he answers instead. “This evening was simply… A good time for a stroll. No official matter. Disciple Ming Fan may rest and return to his duties.”

The boy used to be ignorant. Now, even in the darkness, Yue Qingyuan feels his inquisitive gaze. He knows his respects, however, and soon Ming Fan bows again and takes his leave.

He stops after a couple of steps and turns his way again.

“Zhangmen-shibo surely knows this,” he says in a hesitant tone, “but Shizun is not currently on the mountain… He’s—”

“I know.”

Ming Fan shuts his mouth. His clothes rustle in a bow again and he leaves without another word.

Yue Qingyuan feels for the rock with his foot and pushes it away. His next steps are more careful.

The candle lantern is gone from the window, even unlit, cold and flameless.

When did it disappear? When was it hidden away, the light leading his way stolen, taken away, kept from him?

When has Shen Qingqiu given up on him for the final, permanent time?

The lantern was there when the Qing generation ascended. It was there when Shen Qingqiu suffered his first qi deviation as a peak lord. It was there when he took Luo Binghe in as a disciple, when Yue Qingyuan first found out about the boy’s punishments, and whenever he came over for visits under the guise of sect-related matters.

It was there the morning he sat at Shen Qingqiu’s bedside, waiting for him to rouse from his fever, only for the man to wake up different.

He doesn’t remember seeing it during any of the other peak lords’ attempts at testing Shen Qingqiu for possession. He distinctly recalls seeing it gone after the Qiong Ding demon invasion, when he waited at Shen Qingqiu’s bedside — again — after returning to the sect to find him struck with poison and thinking him at death’s door.

His eyes didn’t focus on many things that day. He brushed the lack of the lantern in the window simply as it being daytime.

…has he seen it since?

He doesn’t remember. It’s not like he visited that often. Shen Qingqiu has since seemed to have lost his sharpness; for some reason, it brought him no relief.

The bamboo house is dark, cold, and empty. Yue Qingyuan’s heart clenches in sympathy.

With no light to follow, he turns back and leaves.

Sometimes he wonders what the point of it all is.

The world. The sect. Cultivation. Him.

What is the point of Yue Qingyuan? In the past, he had a clear answer. In the past, the point of Yue Qingyuan was to protect, to keep safe. Even if it meant he had to withdraw into the background, the point of him was to make sure others could live as peacefully as possible.

That was his Shizun’s — the past Sect Leader’s — reasoning for choosing him as the next in line, at least.

He had magnificent spiritual aptitude, they said, and he was capable of leading and protecting those in his care.

He remembers feeling as if he were observing himself hearing those words, standing just to the side, disconnected.

Impostor, his own voice whispered in his mind, at himself. You’ve fooled them all. Who are they speaking about? You couldn’t protect the one person that really mattered; how could you protect the whole sect?

He remembers watching himself open his mouth, face blank and eyes unseeing, and saying — and saying…

“Shizun… This one is not worthy…”

“Humble, too,” the Sect Leader remarked, all the while shooting him a warning look, displeased that he was undermining her decision. “A quality a sect leader should have.”

His face looked green, but none of his seniors seemed to notice.

He doesn’t think anybody has noticed, ever.

He sits on his own bed, one hand on the sheath of his sword and the other on the hilt.

If a demon has made Shen Qingqiu feel safer, more secure than Yue Qingyuan… If getting away from him was what finally brought him freedom…

…maybe he should relinquish the sect, too.

The candlelight is gone. Yue Qi draws the sword.

Life energy drains.

He sits like this with eyes closed.

One minute passes. Two.

Five.

Ten.

He feels — lighter, with each second that passes.

Relief.

This way, everything will finally be right in the world again.

Coward, hisses a sharp voice in his head, his memory, his soul, so loud and clear, it knocks all sense back into him.

He wakes up from the trance with a violent gasp and slams the sword back into the sheath.

Xiao Jiu is right, as always. Qi-ge’s a foolish coward; he will listen to him instead.

A Sect Leader who is ready to throw away his life surely doesn’t deserve to keep the title.

He should keep his life as punishment.

Qian Cao is believed to be quite similar to Qing Jing — just as peaceful, just as quiet — but it feels different. Despite the late hour, or maybe exactly because of it, each path is well-lit by glowing plants growing on either side. Even in his weakened state, Yue Qingyuan has no chance to trip. The paths are even and void of any stubborn rocks and pebbles, too.

Mu Qingfang’s healer quarters are still glowing with warm light despite the halls currently housing no patients. It makes sense for the beds to be empty; after all, the only people who were hurt in any way in the past events are not around, or have been healed already — or are standing at the very steps.

It takes him several moments to make himself knock on the healer’s door, and in the end he doesn't even manage to do that before Mu Qingfang opens the door himself. Clearly, Yue Qingyuan isn’t somebody he’s expected to see.

“Zhangmen-shixiong,” he greets in surprise. His eyes quickly turn assessing. “Is everything alright?”

Yue Qingyuan smiles on instinct, and just as habitually opens his mouth to reassure—

Coward.

“No,” he says instead. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Mu Qingfang blinks. Yue Qingyuan swallows, surprised just as much, if not more.

Then, the healer steps back. “Allow this shidi to try to help.”

He walks in.

Mu Qingfang does not look happy after checking his spiritual veins.

“Zhangmen-shixiong should be more careful with his health,” he chides. “He knows his circumstances are fragile. How will he ascend to godhood along with his sect siblings if he has no life force left when the time comes?”

Ah. Ascension. He’s forgotten about it.

In some ways, having Xuan Su consume his life force truly is a blessing. It could keep him in the mortal realm where he belongs.

At least then Shen Qingqiu will truly be rid of him.

…Will he even choose to ascend, without Luo Binghe? Perhaps the demon will break another taboo and follow right after?

“Zhangmen-shixiong? You’re shaking.”

He hasn’t even noticed.

“Yue Qingyuan,” he whispers. “Yue Qi.”

Mu Qingfang frowns. “What—”

“No titles. Please.”

The pause that follows is so long, he believes Mu Qingfang won’t abide by his request. But then—

“Yue Qi,” the healer says, softly and with such sympathy that it reaches deep, deep inside of him and squeezes.

Mu Qingfang is the closest thing he has to a haven. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what his past consists of, or where he came from, or what exactly his motivations were when he entered the sect — it all concerned Shen Jiu, and Shen Jiu was deeply, deeply ashamed of his past. Protecting his pride was worth never being truly known — he knows more than anybody else still on the mountain.

“Yue Qi.”

Ah, he’s talking.

“Clear your mind.”

“I can’t.”

“Your qi is getting disturbed. Clear your mind.”

“He left.”

“Shen-shixiong will come back, safe and sound. He said so himself,” Mu Qingfang says without any doubt. He presses his fingers to Yue Qingyuan’s wrist and starts a qi transfer. “Clear your mind.”

The qi feels cool and calming. Familiar. His own spiritual veins accept it immediately.

Mu Qingfang’s eyes bore into him with curiosity, calculation, which eventually settles on understanding. Yue Qingyuan can’t bear to see the emotion that’s born out of it.

“Shen-shixiong seemed unburdened when he left the mountain,” Mu Qingfang says, as if it’s a throwaway observation, meant to share the same weight as mentioning the weather.

It’s meant to soothe, but to him it has the opposite effect; it claws his chest apart. Yue Qi feels as if he’s all figured out.

“Mm.”

“Yue Qi seems to be convinced that he won’t return.” Why would he? “But hasn’t Shen-shixiong always returned, no matter the circumstances?”

That he has. No matter his age, or the level of displeasure with Yue Qi, or the sorrow the mountain reminded him of, Shen Qingqiu always came back in the past. Maybe because, before, he had no other place to call home.

Now, though, he has left to accompany the demonic emperor, that Luo Binghe, who no doubt has a dwelling of his own. A lord’s palace, most probably.

The candle is not the only thing that’s disappeared without an explanation, he realises with a start. One day, Shen Qingqiu hissed at him to stop haunting his doorstep, to keep the sect matter talks to the peak lord meetings, all the while keeping the teapot warm.

The next, the contempt was nowhere to be found in his face. It was as if the fever burned away any feelings he had towards Yue Qingyuan — towards Yue Qi — and left only a blank slate. Perhaps to anybody else it would have been a relief, but to Yue Qi it was a life sentence. There was no fixing his mistakes any longer; and if his chance was gone, there was no healing, either. An infinite penance.

“Isn’t it all right now?”

Yue Qingyuan looks up blankly. Mu Qingfang’s eyes are focused and gentle.

“Shen-shixiong is happy and others welcome and seek out his company. There are fewer and fewer people able and willing to harm him, and he himself strays from unnecessary violence. Zhangmen-shixiong...” Mu Qingfang lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Yue Qi. This one has long suspected that you and Shen-shixiong have a shared past, and with Madam Qiu’s confession and everything that followed, this one has started putting some long-collected pieces together.”

Yue Qingyuan’s breath freezes in his throat.

It's not even about his secret. If anything, as the sect's primary healer, Mu Qingfang had to have been informed of any health related dangers potentially befalling the sect leader. He knows, just like Yue Qi’s own shizun knew, how Yue Qingyuan’s sword hungers and feasts on his own life once out of its sheath.

It's not about the secret. It's not even about Yue Qingyuan's failure.

It's about Shen Jiu—Shen Qingqiu’s past, the past Shen Qingqiu’s always been so ashamed of, the same past Yue Qi has long sworn in his soul to protect.

If Mu Qingfang’s realisation is in any way guided by Yue Qingyuan’s indiscretion…

Cold weight settles in the pit of his stomach. Failure—his life’s constant companion—turns even more bitter.

Isn’t it alright now? Mu Qingfang has asked, and Yue Qingyuan—Yue Qi—knows it should be. Shen Qingqiu’s happiness should make all the difference.

…but with the lack of sharp looks and the pull at his guilt, and the poking at his conscience, nothing feels right anymore. It’s as if he’s a parched man after years wandering the desert, and his only thirst-quenching flask has just run out of liquid poison. Now, Mu-shidi is offering him chilled water, and it will keep him alive, but the drink will forever lack the familiar relief.

No.

Yue Qingyuan mentally slaps his own face for daring to even think of Shen Jiu as poisonous. Yes, he can be sharp-tongued. Yes, he keeps to himself and rejects any form of help, and lashes out at anybody who crosses an invisible boundary. Shen Jiu who, despite his years and life experience, is a child at heart: distrustful, and suspicious, and ready to leave everything and everyone but Qi-ge — and run far away if only it proved more beneficial.

(...is the Shen Qingqiu who left the mountain with Luo Binghe still the same person? His words are softer now and only their meaning feels sharp. He asks for help, sometimes, and doesn't lash out anymore.)

(He still ran away.)

(Without Qi-ge.)

(More beneficial this way.)

In the moment of silence that follows, with Yue Qingyuan’s eyes dim and Mu Qingfang’s speculating, something shifts. Mu Qingfang briefly tightens his hand on his shoulder, then strokes it soothingly.

“Yue Qi must have gone through a lot in his life,” he says in a gentle tone, more a friend than a healer now. He pulls his hand away and sits right next to him on the patient’s bed. Yue Qingyuan follows his movements half-heartedly in the peripherals of his vision.

Mu Qingfang puts a comforting hand over his wrist and sends forward a soothing stream of qi — not examining, not healing — just comforting. A connection.

“It’s only natural that he’s afraid to let go of what he knows.”

Part of him wants to bristle at being laid so bare. He can’t be afraid. He shouldn’t be afraid. He can’t afford to be afraid.

Beneath Mu Qingfang’s familiar touch, though, maybe it’s not — maybe it’s not so shameful to admit that — that sometimes, when he’s alone after another nightmare of charred remains of the sect, the bodies of his martial brothers and sisters and their disciples, youths never even blossomed, piled on top of one another among the ruins of ash-laden mountain peaks, spiritual caves long depleted and destroyed, the rainbow bridge shattered to pieces — that he’s afraid, so afraid that he’ll fail, that’s it’s just a matter of time…

Life moves in cycles, and the cycle of Yue Qingyuan’s is a constant of failures and too lates and almosts and not enoughs.

“However, what Yue Qi knows is not all that there is.”

Not all…?

His blank look must tell Mu Qingfang everything he needs to know: he smiles and curls his fingers around Yue Qingyuan’s wrist, a stable presence. The qi he sends forward feels warmer.

“Yue Qi’s past was full of difficulties. To aid him through them, to protect him from them, his mind developed… shields.” Mu Qingfang tilts his head in consideration. “Many of them. Shields are perfectly reasonable to carry when there’s danger around. Holding one in battle is exactly what one should do.”

Yue Qingyuan’s heart aches at the onslaught of past memories: small phantom nails digging into the skin of his arm, desperate promises urged and given freely, eyes full of terror and blood and fiery smoke, and cold winter-morning-like clarity… The need to protect, to rescue, to keep safe. If he fails—if it’s gone—what purpose does he have?

Mu Qingfang’s voice drifts around him like a fog, wraps him in a cocoon of cover nearly tangible on all his senses. He continues, as if there was never any break (Was there? How long has he been here?):

“What if the battle is long over?” The words, combined with the stream of qi receding, shatter something deep within Yue Qingyuan. He startles and clutches to Mu Qingfang’s hand with his free one, keeping it in place before it can move away.

Begging again, does he ever do anything but beg?

Mu Qingfang covers that hand of his with his own. Comforting. Grounding. Not leaving. “Does carrying the many shields offer protection or does it hinder one’s every move?”

When Yue Qingyuan turns his head, Mu Qingfang is already looking at him with a warmth both alien and familiar at the same time.

“Yue Qi,” he says, so gently Yue Qingyuan’s soul aches. “The battle is over. You have survived. Put down your shields.”

He would. He really would, if it were that easy.

“I told him,” Yue Qingyuan whispers instead. And, shockingly, Mu Qingfang doesn’t look reproachful, but—proud? Glad? Encouraging? Why? “I told him everything.”

“Mm?”

There’s a moment of surprise. He’s frozen in his seat, overwhelmed, his tongue heavy with all the words flooding his mouth all at once now that there’s somebody willing to listen.

Mu Qingfang seems to understand. He takes the lead and asks, “How did he react?”

“He listened. To everything. Didn’t want to talk. Cut ties to our past.”

“What did you want him to say?”

What did you expect him to do, after everything you’ve done? Yue Qingyuan hears in that question, and has to chase the thought away. That’s not what Mu Qingfang’s asking.

What did he want Shen Qingqiu to say back then?

He wanted him to know that he’d never forgotten about him. That Qi-ge had always been searching for a way back. That Qi-ge had failed to listen to him even after they’d parted, and recklessly rushed into cultivating as fast as possible. That he’d suffered a set-back and had been imprisoned against his will, with nobody listening to his cries and reasonings and pleas.

That he’d gone back for him, but all he’d found was rubble.

That he was sorry.

And he wanted—he wanted Shen Qingqiu, knowing all of this, to look at him again, really look at him, and cling tight to his arm, and shake him, and say, Stuipid Qi-ge! How many times do I have to tell you not to be reckless? Look what you’ve done, look where it all got us!

And he wanted him to say, I’ll just have to stay here and keep an eye on you so you don’t do it again.

And the words, no matter how harsh and sharp, would mean—

“‘You’re forgiven.’”

All of him shakes under the thundering typhoon of shame crashing within him—his body, his thoughts, his voice, his vision, all swimming—and sinking—and caving in—

“Yue Qi,” Mu Qingfang says softly, yet somehow his voice rings loud and clear over the chaos in Yue Qingyuan’s mind. “You’re forgiven.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”

It shouldn’t be.

The comforting qi is back.

“It is that simple. You’re forgiven.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Then tell me.”

“...I can’t.”

“That’s okay. You’re forgiven.”

“Why?” he asks, finally.

Mu Qingfang’s hands tighten on his in a reassuring hold. “Because you’ve long since repented, no matter what you’ve done, and there’s no more repenting for you to do.”

“Then why—” he chokes on the words, like they’re trying to suffocate him not to let them out. He shuts his eyes and forces them out anyway. “Why—does it—feel like—it’s not—enough—?”

“Perhaps it’s not Shen Qingqiu whose forgiveness you need.”

Not Shen Qingqiu’s—?

“Yue Qi,” Mu Qingfang says, then repeats his old name again and again until Yue Qingyuan opens his eyes and looks at him. “Put down that load. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.”

Himself…?

It’s such an absurd idea—that he could ever dare to allow himself to simply let go, with no consequences—that something in his mind is knocked into place, and the overwhelming fog disperses, and his vision clears. He stares at Mu Qingfang in utter confusion, eyes clear and his qi stabilising.

Shen Jiu will never forgive me, he thinks for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time, but this time—this time it tastes different. This time, it’s a realisation with no hope woven between the words, teasing at the possibility and stringing him along. This time, it feels final.

The candle has burnt out. The lantern has been hidden. No one's lighting it again.

The battle is over.

The survivors have moved on.

There is no closure. Without the other half of his past, there really is nothing he can do—nothing that would ever be enough—to right this wrong.

It will all remain with him.

It should be destroying him. It should be crushing his mind into a pulp and breaking his soul into countless shards for him to step on for eternity.

What he feels instead is relief; empty, lonely, peaceful.

When he speaks next, his voice no longer trembles.

“I don’t think I deserve to.”

It sounds right, like a fact he’s always hoped to disprove, but now that he’s found solid proof, he can only accept it and move on.

Mu Qingfang watches him with all the care a healer—a sect sibling, a friend, a confidant—could possess.

“Yue Qi.”

He smiles, and it’s as sad as it’s relieved. “Yue Qingyuan.”

“Yue Qingyuan,” Mu-shidi echoes, and squeezes his hands again before moving his touch up his arms. “You deserve forgiveness.”

He waits for the familiar turmoil to come back, to rage against the mere notion, to slam within his ribcage with all the pained conviction.

It never comes. The strange peace remains.

“If Mu-shidi says so.”

It’s not meant to sound dismissive, and Mu Qingfang seems to sense it, because he steels his face into pure certainty and nods, confidence and dedication brimming in his eyes.

“I know so,” he says. His hands feel secure where they hold his arms.

Only when his eyelids grow heavy does Yue Qingyuan realise these very hands have supported his weight all the while.

“I’m very tired,” he admits through the sudden weakness taking over his limbs. As if together with the heaviness and chaos and the load he’s carried within, for two lifetimes, his soul has decided to leave, too.

Weightless.

He tightens his fingers on Mu Qingfang’s robes not to fly away, nor sink underground.

Mu Qingfang firms up his grip in response. “I know. I’ll help,” he assures. “Lean on me, Yue-shixiong. Rest.”

He goes willingly—lets go of any remaining control and sinks where Mu Qingfang’s hands guide him.

Mu-shidi smells like healing.

“I’ll be here,” Mu Qingfang whispers near his ear.

The flame dancing within the candle lantern in the room dims down to a comfortable shade.

The pressure on his head releases with the removal of his hair guan.

Gentle, secure arms hold him close.

Yue Qingyuan closes his eyes, all shields down, and rests.

[beautifulsnake2162020]

We have it all (Hualian adopted daughter fanfic) Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I only do this for fun.

Premise: Not long after comforting a bullied girl named Meng Ai, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian find themselves adopting her and together they form a family they didn't know they had needed for awhile.

Story/Genre tags: Slice of life-ish (mainly), Family focused, Hua Cheng's houses finally become homes, there may be an overarching story but that's not the focus, Hualian being parents, Fengqing being uncles, Lang Qianqiu falling in love with someone who was raised by the Xianle squad, technically post-canon (though I haven't read the books so if there are some ooc moments please forgive me).

AO3 Link

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Follower tags: @anonimgato1507

AN: This might be my last chapter for awhile since my midterms will start at the end of September. But this isn't the last chapter of the story. Updates are just going to slow down for awhile (because I want to graduate already). Chapter 7 and 8 are already in the works. So I made this chapter extra long to make up for the more delayed updates.

Chapter 6

"Now you know all you need to know. Please, I don't care if I have become despicable in your eyes. Meng Ai doesn't deserve to live in fear as the consequence of my sins and the delusions of my family." He stands up to briefly relieve himself leaving them alone in the room to discuss.

"Hmm."

"What are you thinking?"

"With all things considered I would like to adopt her..."

"But?"

"But I wonder if Xiao-Ai will even like it?" Xie Lian couldn't hide his worries even if he wanted to.

"What if she thinks we are taking her away from her parents?" He sighs as he leans into his seat.

"Gege." Hua Cheng says gently with reassurance as he puts his hand on Xie Lian's.

"Do you want to adopt her?" Xie Lian now looking into Hua Cheng's eyes could feel his love no matter what choice he makes. He also knew that Hua Cheng already knows the answer. But hearing him tell him was also his way of making whatever his decision was become real.

"Yes, I do." Hua Cheng smiles as he now holds both hands both of Xie Lian's hands in his.

"But what if she doesn't want to be adopted by us?" Hua Cheng thinks a bit before finally speaking.

"The four of us will have to be honest with her. That way the transition from one set of parents to another won't be as difficult. At least she'll know from the start that we are doing this because we care about her." Xie Lian smiles.

"You too?" Hua Cheng lets out a small chuckle.

"She's a little hard to resist." Not long after they hear a commotion outside.

"Will she be safe here?" They hear Ji Huifan ask someone, the concern in his voice was evident.

"I've already summoned some of my best soldiers to come and be discreet while guarding Xiwangmu's temple." Mu Qing's voice reverberated throughout the halls of the temple. The couple shared a look. No words needed to be said with what they've just learnt.

If Mu Qing was here then that could only mean that Meng Ai was in danger and was targeted while she was staying in Puqi shrine. And so he brought her here to keep her safe. Feng Xin was probably still in Puqi dealing with what's left of the threat that remained. From the brief time they've had with Ji Huifan the "she" in question must either be Jing Mei or Meng Ai.

They later learn it was both.

By the time everyone assembled in the room they were in while soldiers from both Mu Qing and Feng Xin were discreetly guarding the temple, they already knew deep in their hearts that they were going to adopt her.

It was more of a question of how to make the transition easier for her.

______________________________________________________________

"Where's Fu Yao and Nan Feng?" Meng Ai asks as Jing Mei places her favorite breakfast congee on front of her. Her favorite part of it was of course the hard boiled tea eggs, there were three slices of egg halves today. That was generous of her mother Meng Ai thought since normally she would be lucky to get two.

"They are taking care of something that their Gods ordered them to do. Don't worry you'll be able to see them soon." Xie Lian says reassuredly as he takes his place beside Hua Cheng. While Jing Mei was a patient woman, teaching Xie Lian how to cook actually palatable food was not a one day affair. After almost setting the kitchen on fire she quickly ordered one of the chefs to let him out and told him that they'll try again some other time.

"Aiai, there's something your mother and I have to tell you." Hearing the seriousness of Ji Huifan Hua Cheng discreetly orders for all other servants except for Yin Yu to leave. Yin Yu was needed since he was in charge of Paradise Manor's security.

"What is it?" Jing Mei takes a seat across Meng Ai, not wanting to do this but at the same time understanding why Xie Lian and Hua Cheng wanted for her to know.

"Do you remember when we were still moving from place to place before we lived in Hu village?" Meng Ai nods.

"Was it because of bad people almost kidnapping me on the last village?" Jing Mei nods while in her periphery she could see Hua Cheng raise an eye brow and Xie Lian's look of concern.

"Yes, well those people are after you and your father and I are doing everything we can to protect you."

"I know mama." Jing Mei smiles sadly as she takes a breath before continuing.

"Do you remember why I don't tell you my visions?"

"Because if you tell the ones in your visions what you saw things might change so much."

"Yes...that's right." Meng Ai takes a guess to help ease Jing Mei's burden.

"Did you see a vision about me mama?" Jin Mei's eyes begin to water but forces herself to hold them back for now.

"Yes, a very horrible one. I saw it after I gave birth to you. So your father and I prayed to Xiwangmu what we could do to keep you safe and live a life to the fullest."

"What did Xiwangmu say?" She asks as she turns to her father.

"She said that as long as you have one parent who is alive and one who is dead, then you will be safe from those who have been chasing us and live a full life." Meng Ai's widen in shock.

"But I don't want either of you to die!"

"Aiai, we know." Ji Huifan says as he embraces her.

"Do you remember when a pretty woman with the suanpan that you liked visited us in the last village before Hu village?" Meng Ai nods and makes a guess.

"Is she Xiwangmu?"

"Not exactly. But she's related to her." Jing Mei says as she stands up from her seat and puts herself on front of Meng Ai.

"We've been praying to Xiwangmu to find another way to save you. And the pretty lady with the suanpan was sent by Xiwangmu to clarify that being a parent does not mean they have to be related to you by blood." This time Meng Ai's eyes widened in realization as she turned toward Hua Cheng and Xie Lian for the first time since the conversation began.

"Xiao-Ai." Xie Lian begins "It is okay if you cannot make a decision right now. This is a lot to take in-"

"Would staying with you and San Lang keep mama and baba alive?"

"I could send some assistance to protect your parents." Hua Cheng says in a reassuring and gentle tone.

"But it's uncertain?"

"Aiai, my darling nothing is absolutely certain." Jing Mei says as she looks at Meng Ai in the eyes.

"All we could do is do our best. This is what the four of us have talked about, all we are waiting for is your choice. Is it okay if Xie Lian and Hua Cheng become your parents too?" Everyone was silent as Meng Ai was slowly realizing what is going to happen.

"I don't want to lose you and baba." Ji Huifen embraces her as tears slowly begin pouring down her eyes.

"You will never lose us, a part of us will always be with you. You are not losing anyone, you are gaining two more people who will care and love you just as much as we do."

"We won't be leaving now. But we have to so that you will be given the life that you deserve and become the person that you want to be. What is it that you keep promising your baba and I every new year?"

Meng Ai struggles as her parents wipe the tears from her eyes.

"I won't ever give up on my dreams to become who I want to be. No matter what it takes."

"Are you going to start now?" Meng Ai stubbornly shakes her head.

"No mama."

"Good, making dreams come true is not easy. But it can be done. Always remember that Aiai." She nods as she hugs both Ji Huifan and Jing Mei. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian let them have their moment. No one knows when Ji Huifan will need to leave to finally put an end to his cursed family or when Xiwangmu will once again require Jing Mei to act as her oracle. It's better to let them savor each other's presence while they can.

Their sacrifice to give them Meng Ai as their daughter will not be in vain.

______________________________________________________________

"Are you sure that they've disappeared from and after Jingdezhen?" An intimidating figure asks as one of the mage mercenaries who was giving her a report.

"We cannot locate them anywhere after someone transported them to somewhere from within within the shrine to Jingdezhen. As expected they sought refuge in Xiwangmu's temple but they had divine assistance."

"I'm not surprised. My sister-in-law is one of her priestesses. I wouldn't put it above her to request aid from the other Gods." The female figure then throws a knife at the mage mercenary who was reporting. The blade being a little too close to his ear while still missing him completely.

Instead it latched itself on Feng Xin's armor.

Or it would have, had he not moved out of the way.

"What God are you?"

"What makes you think that?" She smiles as she throws another knife his way.

"You are absolutely right. You are not a God, you are a clone." Fuck! Feng Xin curses internally as he dodges attacks from all sides as he attempts to make his escape.

But his clone is overwhelmed and instead he ends up on his knees towards the woman who has been throwing knives at him. Now that he was close he could see her skin was pale with a grayish undertone. Her lips had dried up blood surrounding it.

"You know I've always been curious. I've never drunk directly from a God before. I wonder if a clone's blood will taste any different from other mortals?" It was only then that Feng Xin noticed that none of the mercenaries were close to them as the woman puts him on the ground as she begins to straddle him. She was a lot heavier than he had expected to feel. The pressure made by her sitting on top of his clone's ribcage was making breathing difficult.

"Get off me!" He tries pushing her off only for her to restrain his hands.

"Don't worry." Her fangs begin to make themselves more prominent.

"I'm skilled enough to make sure nobody feels pain. You might find yourself enjoying it." But before she could do anything she was blasted away from Feng Xin and outside of the tent they currently occupied.

"You idiot!" He knows immediately who his savior is and he couldn't help a smile from appearing on his face.

Mu Qing's clone manages to deflect then shield them from further attacks as they make their escape.

"Really!? This is how you do a reconnaissance mission?" Mu Qing immediately scolds him when they meet in private in heaven.

"I used a clone, I didn't expect anyone to detect anything from it. Normally nobody could even tell that our clones had anything divine in them."

"In case you forgot, these aren't normal people. These are cursed immortals who are only satisfied when they drink blood preferably from victims who are scared or in pain. Weren't you listening to Jing Mei?!"

"Mu Qing I'm fine now." He looks at Feng Xin unconvinced.

"Thanks to this experience at least now we know that they could even tell the difference between a clone and when it's actually us even though we would be in disguise." Mu Qing couldn't help but snort.

"I could have figured that out without having to get close to one of them." Feng Xin gets up to walk closer to where Mu Qing was standing. He sighs as he's finally on front of him.

"I'm sorry for not telling you. But I couldn't wait to investigate after Hua Cheng and Xie Lian brought them to Ghost City. My curiosity got the better of me." Mu Qing sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

"If you want your curiosity satisfied then read a book."

"Not fast enough for me, and Lingwen and her officials were already busy."

"Then contact Chenxi, that's what I did." Now it was Feng Xin's turn to be exasperated.

"I've tried that she wasn't responding."

"Did you use the conventional channels?"

"Yes, why?" This time Mu Qing couldn't help but have a smug expression. A little bit of revenge over Feng Xin for making him worry.

"Like her mother she doesn't respond to conventional channels. She doesn't like being here as much as her parents, so like them she ignores messages from conventional channels. It's why she and her mother have oracles as their priests and priestesses. Oracles are receptive of messages from the otherworldly and serves as their informants. Since no one in heaven typically sends messages from other immortals through their priest or priestess this was how I was able to make contact with her."

"Fuck." Mu Qing now breaks out in laughter savoring being a few steps ahead of him. Serves him right for making him use a clone to save his.

"I was going to tell you that I've arranged for the two of us to meet her. She's willing to tell us all she knows. But nooo! You just had to do a poorly done intelligence mission in a campsite filled with mage mercenaries who could summon and control any creature. And don't get me started on how a cursed immortal almost-" He was stopped midrant as he felt Feng Xin's lips on his. Through the kiss he could feel the sincerity Feng Xin always had and that he truly was remorseful.

He knows what this is really about. And he now sees his mistake.

"How do I make it up to you?" Feng Xin asks in between kisses that he has begun reciprocating.

"If we are going to make this work you tell me your plans. You don't have to be detailed - I could figure out the rest on my own. Or is that instruction only for me?" He says as he breaks away from their kiss looking him straight in the eyes.

"No it wasn't. And you don't have to figure things out on your own. Not anymore."

"I could say the same for you." He couldn't resist anymore and brings Feng Xin closer for another more deeper kiss.

It's a good thing he found another cultivation path that was a sufficient replacement for his current one. While it was still early on in his new relationship with Feng Xin and they haven't gone that far, he had already begun taking steps in the alternative path of cultivation. There's no limit to how many paths of cultivation one could take. But if one became a God with a path of cultivation then for their powers to not be decreased too much another path of cultivation should immediately replace it. And he was nothing if not thorough.

______________________________________________________________

"Well?" Xie Lian asks nervously as Jing Mei tastes the simple broth that he has managed not to overcook. Even though Hua Cheng insists that he doesn't need to learn how to cook, he can't help but feel guilty at not being able to. So when he noticed Jing Mei's cooking was praised by Feng Xin and Mu Qing he asked her if she could teach him. And under the condition that Hua Cheng wouldn't interfere with her sometimes harsh instructions, even he has to admit that Xie Lian's cooking had improved under Jing Mei's tutelage.

"It's on the bland side, the vegetables you placed weren't able to release their full flavor since you placed them a little too late. But on the bright side you didn't burn the food and it is easier to add flavor through spices. Good Job Dianxie." He sighs in relief over his progress.

"Jing Mei, by any chance you could teach me how to make some of Xiao-Ai's favorite foods? It might ease the change of her moving in with us." Jing Mei couldn't help but snort a laugh.

"I'm afraid if you do that she'll grow up to have the sugar disease. It's already enough that I inherited it from my own mother. I hope that Aiai doesn't get it, but it is something to take note of. She has a sweet tooth which is why I'm strict with how much mooncakes she gets for her birthday. And it doesn't help that Ji Huifan likes to sneak Nan Gua Bings and Tanghulus behind my back whenever he returns from one of his missions."

"Oh? But I thought she liked congee?"

"She does, in a way that it's a necessary sustenance to avoid being hungry. It's for her health and it also teaches her that some things are sweeter when they are earned. It makes it that much more special." Jing Mei releases a sigh.

"At least that's what I hope would happen." Xie Lian offers an understanding look.

"I wonder if she'll even open herself up to me and San Lang after your talk with her. Sometimes I doubt if she'll be able to trust us after that."

"She will." Jing Mei says confidently as she looks at Xie Lian straight in his eyes.

"She may be a little closed off now, but if she really didn't like you she would simply ignore both of you and suffer in silence. The mere fact that she's not afraid to express herself to either you or Hua Cheng shows that she has already begun trusting both of you." Jing Mei then sprinkles some spices from the spice rack. A part of her is still in awe that Hua Cheng was not only able to have this many spices but also that he was able to preserve their freshness for far longer. But given that Hua Cheng was practically one of if not the most powerful ghosts and is the wealthiest she isn't surprised that rare spices occupied space in his kitchen. Back in Fu Dao spices that the traders called Saffron and Cardamom were so expensive only the elite could afford them. She was able to have an indulgence of them every now and then when she was lucky enough to recieve gifts of such.

And now Meng Ai would probably grow up indulged in it if they weren't careful. Or she would probably be bored with it and not understand why these spices were so coveted.

"She thinks Huifan and I don't know about how the children of Hu village were bullying her. But I noticed it right away when she didn't talk much to them and would actively do things in order to avoid them. In her mind she's thinking that they won't listen to her anyway and just want to make fun of her and make her day miserable. So why bother talking to them? We have tried speaking with their parents in private but they see us as outsiders to their community. One day out of the blue we arrived and began changing things in the village."

"Not everyone liked it." She nodded.

"The ones in power didn't, those that weren't were grateful for our services. But then again it's hard to please everyone." She then gets a bowl and pours out the broth that Xie Lian made that was made palatable with her choice of spices. She then places noodles that will be cooked just right from the broth's residual heat. Finally she then garnishes it with a quickly diced spring onion before serving it to Xie Lian.

"Stir it a bit but don't eat it yet." He looks at her puzzled.

"Why not?"

"A volunteer has arrived to help us. Hello Hua Cheng, please have a seat." Xie Lian relaxes as he feels himself embraced from behind.

"I hope you haven't been too hard on him while I'm gone." Jing Mei couldn't help but internally roll her eyes at Hua Cheng's underlying threat. Out of respect for Xie Lian she restrained herself from actually doing it.

"He has made a great improvement today. Please have a seat - there is something I would like you to do."

"Which is?"

"Feed the broth to Dianxie." Xie Lian couldn't help but blush as Hua Cheng begins to relax a little more.

"I appreciate that you've decided to include me in your culinary lessons."

"Actually there is a reason why I want you to do it. Dianxie will have his eyes closed and won't be able to feed himself." Xie Lian makes himself comfortable now understanding what Jing Mei is trying to do. She wants him to focus on the food.

"Ready Gege?" Xie Lian was about to say yes when Ruoye decided to turn itself into his blindfold to the amusement of both his husband and teacher.

"I wasn't going to peek Ruoye."

"Ruoye just wants to make sure you could focus."

"Okay San Lang, I'm ready." He opens his mouth as Hua Cheng feeds him a right amount of the noodles that he slurps up.

"Focus on the food Dianxie, what do your senses tell you?" With his tongue he could taste how the noodles were just right. Not too soggy nor stiff, but the way he chewed and the way the noodles had spread the broth he and Jing Mei had created was filled with flavor. He could now understand why Jing Mei had called his earlier attempt bland when the plenty subtle flavors complemented each other as he swallowed it.

"The subtle flavors are sublime, I could now appreciate why you added them to the broth."

"What else?"

"Um I will need another serving San Lang."

"Say ah." This time Xie Lian got more of the broth than the noodles. With more of the broth there was a suprising layer of sweetness that he did not expect from a broth. How the cabbage and string beans added an interesting texture to a simple meal. It made him reflect on the times when he was fortunate enough to recieve the best meals made by the best chefs of the land. He appreciated their efforts and savored their works. A part of him was jealous of how they could create works that was immediately beneficial since everyone had to eat.

Jing Mei was right in making him return to the basic senses of appreciating food without his sight.

______________________________________________________________

"Baba what type of spirits are Xie Lian, Nan Feng, and Fu Yao?" Meng Ai asks as she and Ji Huifan are on a tour lead by Yin Yu of the gardens. Yin Yu reccommended that they explore the gardens section by section. The gardens were too vast to be explored in a week, and even less by a few hours in a day. Today was their first day and the tour had just ended with Yin Yu needing to take his leave after being summoned by Hua Cheng. Ji Huifan, followed by Meng Ai decided to sit under one of the trees to avoid harming the flowers.

"Before I tell you the answer, tell me first what you have observed." Meng Ai reflects back on what she had felt and sensed with them. She remembers that they had a heart beat, that there was a lightness? No, she thinks to herself. That's not the right word. The best she could come up is that they didn't cling to their forms. But San Lang also didn't cling to his form but he had the tell tale clinginess that ghosts had. That's why when she first felt his presence she knew he was a ghost. But he was also the first ghost to actually talk to her and not just simply ignore her or scare her away.

"I don't know if this is the right word but compared to ghosts like San Lang, they don't really cling to themselves and they have a heartbeat. I wanted to say that there is a lightness to them but that's not quite it. Nan Feng and Fu Yao are soldiers and there is a bit of darkness that also comes with them. Which is why I don't think lightness is the right word."

"Mmhmm, what else have you observed Aiai?" She closes her eyes as she focuses even harder on what she could remember.

"They are powerful - but San Lang is also powerful but their powers feel very different. San Lang's power is more grounded? Or at least that's how I feel whenever I'm around him. But with Xie Lian, Nan Feng and Fu Yao their power comes from the air? The sky? Something from above or somewhere we cannot see." As she opens her eyes she sees him nodding in approval.

"And given all of these observations - what do you think they are Aiai?" She thinks back to a few days ago when she just learned that she will be staying with San Lang and Xie Lian and that they are going to be her new parents and keep her safe.

They were the best choice because San Lang was already dead since he was a ghost, and somehow Xie Lian was considered to still be alive.

And this was something shared with Nan Feng and Fu Yao - but what? Despite San Lang being a ghost he still felt very much alive in her opinion.

Before she could think further an attendant was sent to get them. It was time for dinner. Since one day her mama and baba would be going away she wanted to have dinner with all of them present. Even her new parents, San Lang and Xie Lian.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty since she didn't mean to act badly towards them. But they will have her for the rest of her life and she doesn't know when she will see her mama and baba again once they leave her here for good. San Lang promised that he would make sure they are protected as much as possible and she knows that her baba is working on stopping the scary people that keep following them around.

As they enter the manor something catches her eye.

She takes a quick glance at where her father was escorted by the attendant. The dining room was just straight ahead of where they were. She promises she'll just be quick. She just needs to know what was it that caught her eye.

So she moves closer to what appears to be a shrine.

It's similar to the one at Puqi but it was so vibrant. The mask the crown prince of Xianle appeared to be like the ones she would sometimes see rich people wearing. The sword in one hand looked so dangerous yet at the same time it was beautiful. Both in what it could do and on its own. And the flower on the other hand looked so much like the floating lotus flowers that Yin Yu had showed them earlier. She told him that this was her first time seeing them with her own eyes and she would only see pictures of them. And then her mother taught her how to make paper lotus flowers and whenever they visited a temple of Xiwangmu's or Chenxi's that had a river created for the temple, she would help her place their paper lotus flowers on the water and watch them float away.

"But what if it sinks?"

"Then it is no longer a paper lotus flower." She remembered getting upset.

"But what if I want it to still be a paper lotus flower?"

"Aiai." Her mother settles herself next to her.

"Why do you want it to remain a paper lotus flower?"

"Because you and I made it together. I don't want it to be ruined."

"Oh Aiai." Her mother brings her in her embrace.

"Do you still remember the time we made them?" She nods as she wonders why it seems her mother was sad and yet she was smiling.

"Those paper flowers won't erase the experience we had of making them. That will never go away. But the paper flowers don't need to be preserved just because those were good memories. What matters is the time we shared."

She was younger then, and she is only now starting to understand what her mother was trying to say. It's not the object that matters. It's the people.

"Do you like it?" She felt before she heard San Lang behind her. She was about to apologize for being late when she noticed his expression showing that he already knew and wasn't upset.

"It's so beautiful, I couldn't help but want to look at it." He goes beside her as they look at the portrait of the crown prince of Xianle together. It was only then that she realized that there was no food offerings.

"San Lang why are there no food for the crown prince of Xianle?" He couldn't help but make a small chuckle.

"Because Xiao-Ai, he couldn't appreciate them if they just stayed here."

"Huh? Why?" Hua Cheng heard that Ji Huifan was asking her to make a guess on what type of spirits Xie Lian and his two former attendants were. He could understand why he didn't simply want to give her the answer since she needed to learn how to think for herself.

And also arriving at the answer on your own was its own reward. A concept that is difficult to explain to a little girl. Which is why Ji Huifan only lays out clues but wants her to arrive on the answer by herself.

"Food deserves to be consumed, savored, and enjoyed. He already does that whenever and wherever he is."

"Even here?"

"Especially here." She glances at the painting that called to her. Hmm another mystery that will occupy her mind.

Speaking of mysteries, she realizes that there is another mystery that she hopes she could get the answer too.

"San Lang, may I ask you something?" He lowers himself so that his eye was at the same level as hers.

"Ask away little one."

"My parents say that you and Xie Lian are the key to keeping me safe. Because you are a ghost and are already dead and Xie Lian is still alive...I'm worried."

"About what?" He asks her gently and tenderly. Her heart already feels safe whenever he is around. But she wants to know so badly.

"Aren't you worried that one day Xie Lian would one day die? I'm already scared that mama or baba would die because of the people chasing us. What if because of me, Xie Lian dies? I don't want you to be lonely." San Lang gives her a reassuring and knowing smile. Something about the way his eye glistens is telling her that there is something she doesn't know. Something just out of her reach.

"That is the one thing I can guarantee will not happen. You don't need to worry about that little one."

"But how can you be so sure?" Her voice almost breaks asking.

"I am sure because I am still around. As long as I love him and never ever forget him he will never die." He then rises up as he offers her his hand. A red thread is attached to one of his fingers. She takes his hand and he escorts her back to the dining room. She watches as everyone was waiting for her.

"Don't worry - she was just looking at the shrine."

"Oh what do you think Xiao-Ai?"

"It was so beautiful and vibrant Xie Lian! It reminds me of the painting in Puqi Shrine." He chuckles as he glances at San Lang.

"Should I?"

"If you would like." He then turns to her with a grin.

"I'm not surprised why you find them so similar. San Lang made both of them." They turn to him in amazement as his stance was relaxed. As Xie Lian continues to explain how the shrine in the manor came to be, what really caught her eye was the absolute love and devotion San Lang had for Xie Lian.

If only she could find someone who would look at her the same way he would look at Xie Lian. Or the love she could still feel between her parents who after adjusting to a new environment have managed to make it feel like home was always with them wherever they went.

Later that night as she settles in her bed she wonders what Chenxi must have felt to have lost Hua Lijie to the arms of death before she could marry him.

Did he treat her as person with otherworldly powers? Or did he treat her how a follower worships a Goddess?

Her love preserved the peaches in a place where she didn't have that many followers compared to other places that made her one of their patron Gods. For Gods to survive in such a place they must at the very least be known if worship was not possible. Did he perhaps notice this and loved her so much that he became so devoted to her so she could continue to be with him in a place where she didn't have as much power?

She touches the silver butterfly that San Lang gave to her. It wasn't hard to see the love between him and Xie Lian. And even though she wasn't paying attention to every single word that was said, she could sense the gratitude and love from Xie Lian as well.

But why would he have that reaction when San Lang painted the crown prince?

"Had trouble sleeping?" Xie Lian asks her as she joins him in practicing calligraphy.

"A question refused to let me." She adjusts her grip to experiment if her calligraphy will improve.

"And what was it?"

"I was wondering how Chenxi feels when she lost someone who was so in love with her. I was wondering what their relationship was like to make her go against her parents to try to make him immortal only for him to die before they even got married. Mama says her love is what preserved and affected them. So when Hua Lijie's family scared, trapped, and abused her in a place when she wasn't worshipped or known as much her change of feelings is what lead them to have a cursed immortal life that was worse than death after eating them." She decided that her new grip must have had better results since her strokes were now clearer.

"Did Hua Lijie love her as a person? Or did he already love her as a Goddess? Though one with less power in the place where he lived. Did he in the course of their relationship decide to be a devoted follower so that she won't ever leave his home or his side?" Xie Lian simply smiles at her from his seat across her. He reaches out to correct her grip so that her wrist won't be strained from practicing. On his own hand was a red string also tied on a finger similar to San Lang's. Perhaps it was something married couples who were both men did. A part of her couldn't help but wonder how they managed to prevent those red strings from getting into their food.

"I may not know Chenxi's exact feelings to Hou Lijie but I do remember how I realized I was in love with San Lang." She became intrigued as she finds herself putting down her brush to listen attentively.

"It was gradual. I couldn't help but feel something in my heart towards him early on. I didn't know what it was exactly. All I could feel whenever I'm around him is that I wanted to be with him. If I could help it I don't want to burden him with anything. But he insisted anyway and no matter what I did, no matter what decision I made, he stayed." He lets out a small chuckle as he lets his hand rest.

"One time before we became a couple I set this place on fire." She feels her eyes widen.

"Huh? How?"

"I was trying to save someone and tried to prevent from some of my friends and San Lang from fighting. It didn't work so I maneuvered myself in a way that they won't hurt each other. E-ming sliced me instead and when we were leaving I set fire to the armoury to prevent further fights from breaking out."

"And then what happened?"

"I had thought that he would be upset with me because I burnt the old version of this place down. I also felt guilty because I only told him half-truths about why I was here the first time. When we met again, it turned out we both thought that we hurt each other so deeply that we expected hatred from the other."

"Wait - what was he apologizing for?"

"For getting carried away with the conflict that lead to E-ming injuring me." She heard a cooing sound from behind Xie Lian. E-ming's eye had once again opened and it felt teary eyed.

"It's okay E-ming, I know you didn't mean it. I've already forgiven both of you." He grabs the hilt and gives it a few pets.

"Would you like to give E-ming pets?"

"But my hands are messy. E-ming I don't want to make you dirty with ink." A sad whining sound comes out of E-ming as he places him back in their previous place.

"She has a point E-ming."

"I'll pet you after my calligraphy practice!" After E-ming lets out a happy yelp she returns her attention back to the story.

"San Lang didn't care about you burning this place?" Xie Lian nods.

"I was surprised too. I apologized to him first and then he apologized for things that he thought I would hate him for. What a pair we were even back then." He giggles as he resumes his calligraphy.

"He explained that those things could be easily built again. And after that and all the incidents after he says that no matter what choice I've made, what path I've taken, whether those were mistakes or not or whether it was acting as the worst version of myself...all of those things were simply states of myself. But I have always been myself, and it was this person that he loves and is devoted to." Xie Lian then notices the stick on the incense clock has finally burnt out. Practice was over.

"After he told that to me, it was then I knew that I loved him and was in love with him even before that. To have someone accept you for who you are no matter what happens...I never knew I would be one of the lucky ones to have met their mate. Or to even have a mate at all."

Later on she would see them looking at each other lovingly as they took a stroll on a part of the gardens she hasn't toured yet.

And then she realized something.

The reason why the paintings in both shrines seemed so similar was not only because San Lang made them. She couldn't explain how but something about both paintings made her feel devotion, belonging ...

... and love.

She felt love whenever she was within the presence of either painting. It's why she felt safe in Puqi shrine after she first met them. It's why after meeting them she wanted to visit Puqi shrine whenever she was trying to escape her bullies.

Because there was love...

...and that made it feel like home.

And now she has the answer.

AN: I hope you enjoyed this more lengthy chapter to make up for the more delayed updates. I wrote this while listening to Hong Jue (Red Supreme) and Wei Chen (In front of the red curtain) on a loop. I wanted to give Meng Ai a moment with each of her parents to hopefully show what each one gives her. And also I wanted to give Fengqing a romantic moment while at the same time also clarifying the power level of the vampire family (that's what I call them in my head).

[forevfangirlwrites]

Hey, would you mind writing about percy’s openning night for his own coffee and annabeth being all proud and cute for the celebrity au please?? I love your writing soo much i think you’ve done such amazing stories and i admit to dream about this au every now and then because of how much i reread it lol 🌹❤️ (and i know you asked this ages ago but im the same person that sends promps with the flower if you even remember me lol, im just really shy and my first language isnt english so i get extra shy but i love your stories and i think about them a lott, anyway have a good day 🌹)

Nervous is an understatement. He feels like he might puke (which is not a good look on your first day) though if the feeling is stemming from relief or anxiety is still unclear. He’s been working towards this for so so long and now that it’s finally actually happening, it almost doesn’t feel real.

So much anticipation and build-up and now that everything is set-up, decorated and the moment has come, the place is empty.

(Though the place does look pretty despite the emptiness with about seven tables set up across the space that’s decorated in accents of different shades of blue and a lot of plants courtesy of Grover who had made up for not being at the opening by showing up a week early to help decorate).

Granted it’s only been a few minutes since they officially opened, and he can’t blame anyone other than himself for the lack of fanfare.

He hadn’t wanted Annabeth’s influence at the start, and though he trusts Miranda (the teen he’d hired as a barista/social media liaison) to promote it well, he’s wondering if he should have done more.

He’d posted on his own private insta account of course but that isn’t going to do much other than his mom commenting how proud she is.  Five minutes after opening without a customer isn’t that great.

“You got 40 likes on the insta post so far,” Miranda calls from her place further down the counter. She looks up from her phone. “You should pay to boost it so more people can see it.”

“You can do that?”

And suddenly he feels woefully unprepared for this whole thing. Maybe it would have been better to do the whole celebratory opening instead of quietly putting up an Open sign.

“I’m just gonna do it and you can add the amount to mu paycheck,” Miranda responds.

He has another brief panic of how he’s going to pay her paycheck if no one even comes in. Hoping his nervousness doesn’t show, he runs a towel down the already clean counter.

Percy’s always been a pretty confident person when it comes to work. He trusts his ability to pick up anything quickly and has a knack for finding odd jobs.

Hell, he had moved to California mostly on a whim and managed to do well at the time he worked at Cali’s.

And though he knows it’s this confidence in his work ability that had led him to opening up his own place, now that he’s here it really does feel a lot different than normal work. There’re more responsibilities. And even Miranda, who’s a part timer, depends on him to do well to get paid.

It’s all stuff he’s known this whole time but to actually feel that weight is different.

And even now, he knows he can handle it. If only he gets the chance, if only people actually start—

The sound of the bell on the door makes him start.

“Not bad Jackson.”

He tries to hide his astonishment as Clarisse and Chris walk in, hand in hand.

“It looks really cool Percy!” Chris echoes, eyes scanning the pretty decent sized space.

“Jackson you can’t look that dorky every time people come into your café, it’s bad customer service, close your mouth,” Clarisse drawls, rolling her eyes before looking up at the menu.

“Are we the first people?” Chris asks excitedly.

Percy smiles. “Well technically Annabeth was the first customer because she walked in with me when I officially opened and ordered a drink to claim her spot, but then she had to rush out for a call.”

Clarisse waves her hand. “Okay so girlfriend aside, we’re the first—”

The sound of the bell violently ringing interrupts their conversation as Jason Grace rushes in, clearly out of breath.

“Damn!” he swears, when he sees Chris and Clarisse on the counter. “And I definitely didn’t beat Annabeth, did I?” he asks, looking at Percy.

Percy can’t help but smile as he shakes his head.

Jason sighs, walking up to get in line behind Chris and Clarisse. “I hate Mark Edwards now,” he mumbles under his breath.

KEEP READING ON AO3

A/N: Thank you for the prompt! it's one I've actually been working on for a bit so you read my mind lol And of course I remember you! I really appreciate you sending in prompts even though English in not your first language! (Your English is amazing by the way so don't worry about that!) Thank you again for your support of the series ad I hope you like how it turned out!

[swampstew]

𝔸𝕥 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕤𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟜

Welcome to Raven's Reading Nook - a small corner of this blog dedicated to cozy story times. Take a seat next to the log fireplace as we begin this in-progress, spicy/smutty reader insert story starring YOU (AFAB Reader) and the Kid Pirates. Powerade and snacks are provided! You can find links to the mini-series on Wattpad and AO3 at the end of the post.

Minors DNI you will be blocked - for mature audiences only. Spicy start and violence/torture.

The sound of wet squelching echoed in the air along the beat of slapping skin on skin. Gasps for air, moaning and raspy groaning breaking through like a chorus, the instruments of bodies thrusting into each other pulling forth a cacophony of high-pitched praises.

“Ooooohh Kid! Killer! Fuuuuck you’re both too big,” Y/N wailed, tears streaming down her face as the two chuckled and fucked her faster.

“Poor thing, think we wiped her out, Kill,” Kid grunted out, roughly gripping her ass in his right hand as he bucked up sharply into her throbbing pussy. Y/N let out another cry of pleasure.

“Tsk, we’ve only been at it for like 56 minutes,” Killer tutted, almost disappointed. Killer stilled his thrusting and without warning, lifted Y/N’s hips and rapidly pulled her flush down on to Kid, holding her down while Kid’s body jerked.

“Watch it! Not ready to cum yet,” Kid growled, pulling Y/N down to cover his chest. His arm held her down just above her waist. Killer spread her ass cheeks wide open and pushed his heavy cock back in place. While Killer drilled into Y/N, Kid focused on kissing her puffy lips, biting them and her neck as he gave her long, slow strokes of his cock.

“Hnnnnooohhhh,” she whined, “Kid please, it feels so good!”

“Does it feel good or am I too big? Make up your mind!”

“Itsss boooooth! You-you’re gonna tear me apart if you keep taking me at the same time!”

“Shut up, no we won’t. That’s what the foreplay and aftercare is for,” Killer bent his mask into her back and he started thrusting faster.

He wasn’t lying and they weren’t idiots. They knew they were well endowed and big, strong freaks. While Y/N possessed great endurance to the men’s sexual impulses, they also knew that they would probably still break her body if they didn’t prepare her for what they had to offer.

That thoughtfulness extended to aftercare. They always checked her for signs of internal injury, treating any wounds and then providing her with comfort, food, and company for a little bit after their escapades. That’s how it’d been for the last few weeks of sailing.

“I think she need’s one more big orgasm to knock all the stupid shit outta her mouth,” Kid’s face broke into a sneer.

“Copy that Captain.”

Kid brought his hand down to Y/N’s clit and began rubbing fast circles on her while Killer pressed against her back, hands cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples.

“Ahhhrckk!” she panted. “I-I-I can’t I ha-have to—”

The words died in her throat, the white-hot feeling in her lower belly shooting fire through her veins and feeling impossibly hot, causing her voice to simply cease. Killer and Kid drilled into her without mercy, their own ends drawing nearer as they slammed into her body.

Both men could feel her muscles fluttering, clamping, and pulsing. It was going to fling them over the edge.

Y/N threw her head back forcefully, slamming into Killer’s chest as she let out a voiceless scream. Her body clenched down tightly, causing the pirates to groan in unison. Killer came after her, bottoming out in her ass and rutting his hips without rhythm as he came, his hands still squeezing Y/N’s breasts.

Kid, ever the stamina beast, kept pistoning into Y/N even after Killer pulled out. Kid switched positions and threw Y/N on her back on the mattress, filling her pulsing hole once more and fucking into her.

“K-K-Kid,” Y/N let out a raspy whisper, “It’s tooooo mu-much,” she whined.

“Yeah? Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m almost there. I’ll give you one more, for being my good girl,” he kissed her lips.

Hitching her legs over his waist, flesh hand and prosthetic gripping her thighs up, he began to fuck her with long, precise strokes; hitting the spot that had her vision going spotty.

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck,” Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Yeah that’s right sweetheart, ooooohh fuuuuuck,” Kid grinned, sweat running down his face. The way she looked on the verge of passing out from pleasure, her walls fluttering on him more and more. His strokes became faster, rubbing his tip directly on her g-spot.

“OH FUUUUCK,” Kid groaned and bit his lip, burying himself to the hilt and bucking his hips sloppily, coaxing his release.

“Aaaaaahhhh ffuuuuccck!!” Y/N let out a final cry, her pussy gripping Kid tightly as she rode the waves of overstimulated pleasure, her body taking a static like buzz from her nth orgasm. The effect rippled to Kid and he came, shooting ropes of pleasure inside her. His hips stuttered to a stop as he finished spilling into her.

Fiery red hair plastered to his scalp and forehead, Kid’s face hovered over Y/N’s chest as he panted.

“Bath or shower?” his golden eyes finally lifted to hers.

“Mmmm bath,” she slurred.

“Want me or Killer to lifeguard?”

“Boooooth.”

“Tsk, so selfish. You’re lucky we cleared our schedule off to indulge your pretty little desires.”

Y/N cast him a disapproving glance, “I do plenty for you both.” Killer let out a dark chuckle before walking to the bathroom to run the water.

Since the day they had infiltrated her guarded secrets, they had become significantly more generous with her. Killer no longer feared that she was a Marine or enemy pirate rival spy sent to undermine them. While still puzzled over her background, he grew to appreciate the strong woman Kid picked up on that one daft island.

Making great company, he often found he could vent to her about shit that bothered him and she never judged him or invalidated his feelings. She just…listened. Didn’t try to interject anecdotes or superficial sentiments about his issues. Gave him a simple nod, offered advice if asked, and told him he was free to talk to her whenever he wanted. She knew a kickass pasta recipe and then some too. Y/N would also seek Killer out whenever he found time to play the drums, laying down in the room and tapping her foot to the beat with her eyes closed.

Kid felt like he found a rare treasure. Laid back hot chick who was a little unhinged, could handle her own shit, intimately knew all of life’s little pleasures, and who made him feel like he was…The Captain Kid. She treated him with respect to his position and didn’t try to do weird or frilly shit with him and Killer like past lovers had. It was only behind closed doors that she became vulnerable to him, with him.

He shared some of his hobbies with her and was internally thrilled that she liked spending time in his workshop. Y/N told him she came from a background in blacksmithing and was no stranger to refining and enhancing weapons. She even helped him improve and polish some of the crew’s storage of weapons too. Kid was delighted to find out she knew how to wield weapons well too and would on occasion, make her indulge him in betting pools where she fought against the crew with chosen weapons. She had only lost to Killer and himself – whether that was intentional on her part or not, he had no clue – and that excited him.

“Besides only one of you is good at washing my hair,” she pouted, stretching under Kid.

“Excuuuuuse meee, princess,” Kid rolled his eyes as he pulled out, reaching his flesh arm to scratch the top of his back, stifling a yawn.

Y/N eyed him for a minute before taking a deep breath, “The two of you have been…cooler towards me recently. What changed?”

Kid shrugged, “You came out of your shell more? Started seeking us out for our company?”

“No you know what I’m talking about,” she covered herself with the sheet.

“I’m serious. We were ready to kick you off but then you just seemed more at ease with us. Wire and Heat said you took charge during a snag in the plans and saved one of my men from a shameful death at that one island and since then you’ve been more active with the crew and shit. You spend more time with me than you do with Killer. You’re with us longer than we all expected since you haven’t found your little clues to whatever the fuck you’re looking for. Is it possible that you…want to be part of the crew? That you might even like being around us?” He smirked at her, hoping he didn’t give himself away.

“I still have my own plans,” Y/N scoffed but didn’t deny anything Kid said. “But you all aren’t bad to be around.”

“Sure ya do.”

It was late afternoon when they came upon an inhabited island. Kid and Killer did their traditional survey of the area to root out enemies while the crew did their own shit, finding bars or whatever fit their fancy. Y/N had departed with the crew so they assumed she had stayed with them. However, by the time the Supernovas had found the bar the crew had taken over, they realized she was not among them.

So they waited.

And waited.

…

The bar didn’t dare close on the Kid Pirates but after midnight Kid was seething and left anyways.

“Where the fuck did she go?!?!?!”

Killer and Kid kicked down the door to the women’s cabin, making Y/N jump from her position on the floor. She was laid out with her massive map in front of her with an open journal and her various inking tools, a half-eaten fruit bowl next to her.

“Knock much?”

Kid was flushed from exertion and anger. “You never showed up at the bar!!”

“I didn’t know I was expected there.”

Kid blinked. Then he looked at Killer who shrugged at him.

“We didn’t tell her to stay with the crew or meet us there,” the masked man sighed.

“So you’ve been here the whole night?”

“Mostly. Grabbed dinner before I came back. Hey, will we be passing by this region?” She pointed to a spot on the map.

Kid’s eyes snapped to Killer who eagerly dropped to the ground to inspect the map.

“Sort of, our heading is more North but we generally explore every island we come across. Seems like a reasonable detour, what do you think Kid?”

Kid held his stance before stomping over to where Y/N was and sat cross legged on the floor. He grunted an affirmative.

“There you go. Found a clue?”

“I did,” she smirked. “How would you rate your experience in the torture department?”

Kid blinked again, “On the receiving end or…?”

“Being the ones to dish out the torture,” Y/N popped a piece of fruit in her mouth.

The Captain exchanged a glance with his First Mate before a sinister grin grew on his face. “We can do your detour. So, who are we torturing?”

“An old coworker.”

Killer let out a chortle, “We were under the impression you worked alone.”

“Not always.”

The two men deadpanned her.

Sighing, “Once upon a time, this sweetheart princess turned to merc work.”

Kid’s eyes widened, as did Killer’s. Their brief overview of her journals had not revealed this.

“I wondered how you were so proficient in fighting and shit,” Kid mused.

“Mmmhhhhmm…Anyways, the person I’m looking for got me acquainted with the first of many who fucked me over. Figured my best shot at finding those bastards is by nailing this bastard. He’s incredibly sweet on me and won’t take me seriously so that’s where you two come in.”

Neither man liked the sound of her soon-to-be-dead coworker.

It took them a week but they found the coworker. Landing on the coordinates Y/N had given, the Kid Pirates discovered an inhabited island that seemed innocent enough. On the surface.

The whole thing was a sham. A sort of peaceful existence governed by a shadow group. Rogue mercenaries took the town hostage and ran it to their whims. None of that mattered to Y/N or the crew.

Kid and Killer were mesmerized by her. She executed an extraction and diversion team to weed out and find her target. Some of the crew were to start a commotion outside the front of the building in order to garner attention and maybe attract heavy muscle from the targeted building. Cause a big enough disturbance that would have Y/N’s target be moved to an isolated area. Kid, Killer, and Heat followed her lead as she snuck behind the back of the building and began scaling the side. Once on the fourth story, she shimmied the ledge of the building to inch close to a blacked out, sliding glass door. She waved at Kid.

The Captain stood front and center and used his power to rip all the available metal in and around the building. While the occupants were in a panic, Heat began spitting fire to disarm, burn, and send the small fries unknowingly towards Killer’s blades. Kid also used his power to repel the metal right back, battering anyone still around. After the first assault, Y/N dashed into the shattered threshold and after a minute called out to Killer.

“CATCH!”

Thrown from the fourth floor came a slender but muscular man who was knocked out cold and bleeding from the head. Then a safe was pushed off the ruined ledge. Killer caught him and the safe with ease. The Kid Pirates left the island in chaos as they set sail with their prizes.

The unconscious man woke up in the ship’s prison cell, tied to a chair with only Y/N in his direct line of sight. His head lolled as he took in his surroundings before he focused on her. Then he laughed.

“You little fucking bitch.”

“Hey Gaston. Long time, no see.”

“If I would have known you would cause me this much trouble, I would have left your ungrateful, starving ass in that prison cell.”

“ME? I’M THE PROBLEM?” she smacked him across the face. “I followed every order, every mission. All I asked for was my severance package like you promised me. 5 years and I was OUT. I THOUGHT we were GOOD. I didn’t think for a single second that you would set me up with your pal and that the two of you would scheme to RIP ME OFF!” she smacked him again.

“That’s on me for being naïve. I’ve grown up.”

The man named Gaston leered at her from his seat, “Yeah guess so. Got prettier too. Lean on that a bit? To survive this long?”

Y/N punched him in the face. His broken nose was a gory mess on his face, dripping blood all over himself and the floor.

“I did things I wouldn’t tell my parents about sure, but never that. Anyways, you’re here for one reason and one reason only. Tell me where I can find your shitty little partner.”

“Suck me off first,” Gaston spat on the floor.

“Thought you might say that. So I’ve requested help from experienced veterans. This is Captain Kid and Massacre Soldier Killer. They’ll be your torturers this evening until you give me everything.”

Gaston’s eyes widened in horror and his already pale face became white as a ghost sheet. “Th-th-the Kid Pirates?!”

“Aye, that’s right,” Kid growled, a sneer on his face. “Word on the street is, you fucked with my doll. By extension that means you fucked with me.”

“Wait a minute!” the man gasped. “My issues with that cunt have nothing to do with you! I haven’t SEEN her in 8 years!”

“8 years, 13 years, 17 years, time doesn’t matter to me,” Kid’s eyes shined in the light. “I love torturing people; I don’t need a special occasion or reason for it.”

The silence in the hull of the ship was shattered with inhuman shrieking and sobbing for hours. Sometimes gruff yelling broke the screaming, lull moments of tense silence with a ruffle of pages being flipped – then the shrieking would begin again.

In the end, Y/N had a page of her journal filled with names, islands, and coordinates. She asked the pirates for a smoke break while she checked some information out and left the prison cell while Kid and Killer took a moment to wash their hands and drink a little.

“Well, this took an unexpected turn,” Killer quipped.

“I know! I’m super fucking into it! I’ll rip apart anyone she wants limb by limb.”

“Yeah, guess she’s finally ok with letting us in. Think she’ll let us witness how she finishes off the others?”

Kid eyed Killer with a hopeful look in his golden orbs, “Fuck, I hope she asks us to join her when she does.”

They made their way back to the prison cell, stopping in the threshold as they observed the scene before them. Y/N was crouched down on the balls of her feet holding a bloody dagger in her hand. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared at Gaston who was twitching sporadically. A puddle of blood was running down the floor towards the drainage holes.

“Y/N?” Killer called out to her, getting no response.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Kid tried to get her attention, to no avail. She didn’t acknowledge either of them with a glance or word, simply lifting a finger to her lips to silence them. After another minute, Gaston’s body stopped moving. Y/N slowly rose to her feet, her eyes still transfixed on the dead man.

“Two minutes and twenty-three seconds,” she whispered to herself repeatedly, committing it to memory.

Kid walked up to her and gently cupped her chin, tilting her face to look at him.

“I know where to go next,” she said softly, reaching up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Thank you for your help.”

Read on Wattpad | Read on AO3

[nazitty56]

I recently got sucked into the TGCF fandom, and now I have a rabid story bunny on the loose in my head.

It's a reverse role fanfic, but the thing is, almosy every time I reverse a role, a name changes.

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian are reversed (of course)

Hua Cheng's name becomes Xu Hong (since he's part of the Xuli royal family. Original, I know). I realized that Xie Lians's official title, Xianle, doesn't fit Xu Hong, so I had to create a name for him: Ying Guan (Flower Crown -- just a rough translation since Chinese characters have more than one translation per character. Keep that in mind for the other names and titles)

Xie Lian becomes Fang Cheng (Beautiful City), though Ghost City's moniker is Hua Cheng (Flower City). Only people who don't know what it is call it Hua Cheng (sometimes locals will call it that to mess with humans). Fang Cheng is also nicknamed HuaHua by the locals (Hua Chengzhu when they're being really mischievous). They call him that (and the city that) because he's always covered in flowers and wraith butterflies, and the city is covered in flowers as well.

I'm still deciding on how they look.

I made Feng Xin, Xie Lian's maternal cousin. Qi Rong is Xu Hong's assistant (becomes Xuan Zhen when he ascends). Mu Qing is Xu Hong's guard (Nan Yang when he ascends).

He Xuan becomes He Sheng and the Water Master (Shui Shi Sheng). His little sister, He Baihe, becomes the Wind Master (Feng Shi Baihe).

Shi Wudu becomes Xuan Shui (mysterious waters), the equivalent of He Xuan.

Nangong Jie (former Ling Wen), was a female general of Xuli and ascends as Ming Guang Jiangjun after the Xuli rebellion -- that still happens, though Xuli doesn't officially falls until a century later.

Pei Ming was a shoemaker in Xuli, and he ascends as Ling Wen.

As you can tell, the three tumors are already a riot.

The hardest part comes in the form of Jun Wu. His original name (in this fic) is Wu Yong, and he never became a god. His wife, Wu Jianlan, did (goddes of forges -- Lin Long ((fine jade dragon)) ). Her new official title became Long Jun (Prosperous Lord) after she crowned herself as Empress.

I like everything I've made so far, but it's going to be a pain in the ass to write because of how the characters are going to change and thus the circumstances are going to change.

The fun part is when I go to post on AO3 and have to figure out the tagging, lmao. The relationship tags are going to make EVERYONE cringe, I can already tell.

If you guys have any ideas, feel free to add to this!

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 19

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years by the time his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3. If you don't want to wait for new chapters, the complete story is on Patreon for only $4 with bonuses! If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

Alex was doing his best to organize calendars and shopping requests so that he could go home before six. He had nothing to do—Damián had a client, and Eve had picked up an extra shift and wouldn’t be home until late. He was going to sit at home alone, but he thought that even losers deserved to go home before sundown on Fridays.

He was in the middle of wrapping things up. He had just placed the last of the orders for new toner, and he was sure that he had ordered enough office supplies to hold them over through the rest of the year. He was just forwarding the e-mail receipts to accounting when Andrew walked up to his desk.

Andrew’s jacket was draped over his arm. He looked to be on his way out, but he stood there until Alex looked up at him.

It reminded Alex of just a few weeks ago when he walked up to the desk with Martin and Stu. What had started out as normal, slightly awkward office chat soon became them insisting they had found a good guy for Alex. It had been painful at the time. Andrew had gone on and on about how great “Marcus” was and how much Alex would love meeting him.

He could clearly remember the way Andrew shoved his phone over the desk, how he had pretended like he and Alex were buddies.

Andrew had spoken with such a matter-of-fact tone, flashing his dumb, perfect teeth. Alex didn’t know how he could be so stupid to fall for one of Andrew’s pranks. To Andrew, every other office worker was a pawn, and he was playing a never-ending game for his own amusement.

Now, anxiety gnawed at Alex. He didn’t know what he had done, making Andrew upset after turning the tables on him.

“If you needed something ordered, I just finished,” Alex said.

“No, I’m good,” Andrew said.

Alex hadn’t had much one-on-one time with Andrew, and after his evening with Martin, he didn’t want to. Andrew looked different now. Alex no longer thought that he looked charismatic but rather manipulative and shifty. He leaned with one arm on Alex’s desk, closing in on the space that Alex didn’t like invaded. It was one of his major pet peeves when his co-workers leaned over his high desk, trying to get close to him when they were asking for something.

“I think you should be careful,” Andrew said.

Alex frowned. “With what?”

“With that guy.”

“What guy?”

Alex knew exactly who Andrew was talking about, but he wanted Andrew to spell it out for him.

“That Marcus. You don’t know what he could get you into.”

“What is he going to do? Since you apparently know him better than I do.”

“He’s a prostitute!” Andrew lowered his voice, but his tone became edgy. “You’re going to end up catching something or getting caught up in some police bust.”

Alex was more offended than ever. His chest squeezed, and his heart sped up.

“Then that’ll be my problem,” he said. “If you cared so much, you wouldn’t have set us up in the first place.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

Andrew’s jaw clenched, and his hand balled up in a fist.

And Alex understood.

It wasn’t about Damián or about the fact that he was a sex worker. It was about control. When Andrew pulled a prank, it was funny. He came out on top. Someone else got embarrassed. But when Alex didn’t let it end with that, Andrew lost everything. He wasn’t the funny guy, and he couldn’t hold anything over Alex if Alex was happy.

He had even lost Martin who, in the past couple of days, had started talking to Alex more on breaks and spent less time hanging around Stu and Andrew. It turned out that Martin was delightful. And Alex wondered if Martin had ever invited Andrew out with his college friends and wife. If he ever asked Andrew if he’d like to play a game of Trivial Pursuit. It hadn’t seemed like Kris and Clara had ever met him, and Alex suspected Martin was living some sort of double life, keeping his home life and old friends a secret from his work friends.

“Listen,” Andrew said, “nothing good comes from people like that.”

“I don’t think anything good can come from people like you.”

Alex had no idea where it had come from. He had never been so bold before. It was something Damián would say. He was proud of himself.

Andrew pointed a finger at him. Alex thought it made him look rather silly. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Okay. I won’t.” Alex leaned back in his chair, trying to look like he didn’t care. Like he wasn’t dizzy from anger. “Why do you care so much? It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does.”

“Oh, you don’t want it getting out that you hired a sex worker as a prank? Are you afraid that we’re going to tell everyone our meet cute story?���

Andrew didn’t answer, but Alex assumed it was a yes.

Andrew walked off with a huff. He closed the office door a bit forcefully, and the others lingering at their desks stared at it and then Alex.

I think I had a breakthrough about our scheme, Alex texted Damián.

He didn’t get a response until close to midnight. He had met Eve at work to walk her home and picked her up dinner on the way because he felt particularly nice that night. When Damián’s text came through, they were watching a video essay on the evolution of a video game series that Alex had never heard of (and, as he learned when they were already a solid 45 minutes in the video, neither had Eve).

Tell me about it.

I think Andrew’s been thinking about this whole thing as something he can win. Like it’s a contest he wants to prove he can beat me in.

I never met him, but he gives off high school bully vibes. When Martin was talking about their prank the other night, I kept thinking about how it seemed like he only did it to get Andrew’s approval. And in turn, Andrew was only doing it to prove himself to the others.

Andrew confronted me today, and I think he’s spiraling knowing that his prank didn’t work

This is so good. I’m going to bring a camera to the party so I can take a picture of his face when he sees me.

“Does Damián not know his phone has a camera on it?” Eve asked. “He doesn’t need to bring a whole other camera.”

“Don’t read over my shoulder. Watch your video.”

“I don’t understand what they’re talking about right now. I’ve never played on the SNES.”

“Then why are we watching this?”

“It looked interesting!”

You know what you need to do. You need to talk about how lovely our relationship is in front of him. And I’m going to keep showing up.

Do you think he’s homophobic too?

Not in a violent, take away our rights kinda way. I think he’s one of those homophobes that’s like “I’m okay with them, but I don’t want any flirting with me”

The worst kind. Straight men should consider themselves lucky if I ever find them attractive. Anyway, what did he say? Give me the details.

Alex didn’t want to tell him. He didn’t want to let Damián know what Andrew had really said.

He said some shit about how I need to be careful and how I’ll regret a relationship with you

Ah he went easy. I’ve heard worse.

Had he? Alex tried not to think about it, but he couldn’t stop. He thought, really, he had been fairly sheltered. If people were making obscene comments about sex workers, he wasn’t exposed to them. He didn’t routinely hang out with people who were so rough, and his family was liberal in the sense they made general statements about how they accepted everyone but never got into the nitty-gritty about the actual issues surrounding the people they supported. It was hard to lift people up when you didn’t know what you were lifting them up from.

Maybe sometime you can tell me about the issues surrounding sex work

Alex quickly deleted it before he could send the message. It wasn’t Damián’s responsibility to educate him—or so he had heard over and over again on various social media sites. It was his on him.

And he would start learning as soon as he could figure out the most ethical way to do so. He’d Google it later, and he’d go down the rabbit hole of looking for accurate sources.

“Is this not over yet?” Alex asked, looking at the video essay again.

“No.”

“Can we turn something else on?”

“You are so difficult.”

“You just said you didn’t understand anything.”

“But if we stop now, I’ll never know how it ends.”

Alex shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll tell you how it ends in the morning.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He tried thinking of a response for Damián without sounding condescending. He laid in bed, staring at his phone, typing and re-typing condolences, semi-witty jokes that avoided the reality of the situation, and sappy messages that were way too heartfelt.

It took 30 minutes before he settled on something that was reasonable.

If you ever need to unload anything you’ve heard or been told, I’m here

It was good. An offer that Damián didn’t have to take but would always be there. And the response dodged the offer but picked up another conversation that lasted until the sun was starting to rise.

[kirstenonic05]

For the fanfic ask game: ♥️, 💕, 🥳,📚, 💛,🎨?

OH BOY SORRY IF I BRAIN SPLURGE

♥️What is your favourite thing you've written in a fic?:

Man do I have many favourite lines, but most of them don't work as single sentences D: So I'll put them under the read more!

💕What is your favourite fic you've written?:

Hmm... Most of my fics are self indulgent... Probably Underground, which I posted on Ao3, but the original version where they're not all JoJo characters! Or Heroes of Sword and Shield, which is my Pokemon x BT crossover. Or Heart's Beat, in which Joseph and Kars fight a stand that uses music to fight. Or the one where my OCs confessed to each other. Ugh, I have so many but I don't post any cause they're entirely self indulgent XD

🥳Why did you start writing fanfic?:

Easy! To put my favourite characters in the same story! I came up with a crazy crossover AU at the age of 10 or 11 and never let go of it. Originated with Sonic, Megaman, Megaman X, NiGHTS and Pit, but now it's mainly Sonic, Joseph, Allen and Mu. It was the first fic I ever wrote actually! Not sure if I should ever post it because it was... a trip. But! It had a lot of lore that I still use to this day! It's somehow still one of my main AUs, and the name has stayed as the Dimensional Defenders for all these years!

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?:

First of all, I recommend you, @nibwhipdragon, for good Joseph content because MAN do you write abt stuff I only think abt. For Caejose, I recommend Riette! For Final Fantasy VII AUs, I recommend AimeeLouWrites! Also Battle Tendency But It's in College and is Almost Nothing Like Battle Tendency... is really good! I also recommend anything that's on my Ao3 bookmarks!

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you've learned about writing?:

Good question... A lesson from writing? Maybe to be patient and to let the story unfold. Sometimes you'll get a spark of inspiration, and when that happens you take it on full storm!

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?:

Dude I would LOVE fanart for one of my AUs. Alas! No one sees them D: That or fanart for my OCs...

Thanks for the ask! And since you've stayed till the end, it's time for favourite line time!

Gracefully, Kars soared through the opening like a bird through an open window. Floating as elegantly as a swan, he spoke. "What the fuck JoJo."

~

"I need to go to the bathroom."

"Wait ghosts can't-"

"Adios."

~

The hedgehog looked down, only to see...

Allen's disembodied head. "Hello."

"Oh, hey Allen!" Sonic grinned.

~

"You named the heartless Shrimp?!" She almost scolded, ready to call upon her magic.

"Yeah, 'cause he's just a small guy!" The heartless in his arms cooed quietly. "Can I keep him? Please please please?"

"No! Now put it down before you get hurt!"

~

"Do we all need to get clothes?"

Everyone in the room stared at Sonic. A chorus of "Yep" and "Of course" resounded around the room.

~

"By the power of the Joestars," His sword emerged in his hand and he lowered into a fighting position. "I ANNOUNCE YOU DIED! Wait a minute..."

There was a pause. Then a snicker. Then Joseph, Kars and Caesar laughed.

"NO!" Caesar shouted through laughs as his voice peaked in the Discord call. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT!"

~

Turning back towards the duo, I noticed Joseph shaking. Caesar cradled him like a scared cat, seemingly unsure what to do with him.

~

This was followed by Allen walking into his classroom that had all the chairs in test positions. Lovely.

~

"I'm going to get glitter all over the English block," Allen said, playfully deadpan as he attempted to flick glitter off his hands. He continued in the same tone, "I shouldn't have said that next to an open classroom."

Sonic let out a loud laugh. "Joseph should never be allowed glitter. It's just that he has loads of money."

~

"Zamazenta likes coke." Caesar stated as if it was a normal, day-to-day fact.

~

Cloud facepalmed. "And that's how the gang were defeated. They rode into a chasm and died."

Zack whined as Cloud reset from the last save point.

~

His mind was a frenzy, a blur as he panicked and tried to save himself. He couldn't process what was going on. Without thinking, he used his hand to break the plate.

And then he popped back at home.

Cloud, who was building the house, witnessed him appear next to him. "What did you do?"

Chrom scratched his head. "Uh... Pumpkin...?"

Cloud facepalmed.

~

The Lucifenian looked at him in shock; even if he was part wyvern, the winds would rip his boyfr- friend to shreds!

~

It was a bright and sunny day. Birds were singing, flowers were- Okay, enough of the happy crap.

~

So the fae could talk. Check.

"You took me away from my spring, shoved me in a room, and you mean no harm? Bullshit."

And it sweared. Or, rather, he sweared. Check.

~

"For a time I thought I would be alone all my life. Until I met Sonic."

"Aww~!" Joseph cooed.

"But now, thanks to my immortality, I live in fear of outliving him."

"Aww..." Joseph's smile dropped.

~

The swanna crowed. Sonic was quick to translate. "She says you're an idiot who challenged a legendary and needed saving!"

~

"Do I, Angel-Cakes?"

"Call me that again and I will personally send you to hell."

"Sure thing, Angel-Cakes!"

~

Heartbroken: Many things leave people heartbroken, including when: - Your friend backstabs you - That girl you likes turns you away - You get married to two ancient beings and your heart will explode in a month Joseph sighed. Just the usual.

~

In the end they forgot that Sonic stole Caesar's flag and he succeeded in his attempts.

[arcanavoid]

Wanted to tack some tags on (from other ppl) because They're very true, as well as add a little bit to what I've already said.

I've seen a new post this morning about the whole situation and I don't think enough people realize what happened during the Nyx Hydra-Dorian shift.

I've also not done any research as I just woke up (oof gotta stop making these posts in bed) so please please please correct me if I am wrong but it's basically this:

The Arcana was no longer making Nyx Hydra enough money (through coins and merch) and so they sold it to Dorian, and they didn't have to.

You can see the quality drop in tales and routes closer to the transition, such as Muriel's love confession CG having wack torso proportions, and the fact Nyx Hydra barely finished Portia's route, having to hold several campaigns to bring light to her route being possibly dropped.

Which is a little hard to side with. It's understandable sure! Less money means it's harder to get good quality stuff.

But to me, less money means you need to work hard at what you can do and take longer. Take longer to get Muriel's love confession out, and take longer to finish both Muriel and Lucio's routes so you can keep updating them with Portia's.

The last three routes always feel rushed (and id like to possibly talk about that later in the future) they have only one chapter per book where as the main three have three chapters per one book until halfway through the story.

All this to simply say Dorian (while messing up the characters' tales) is definitely trying their best to keep Arcana alive, and that means letting Fans make Fan content with official sprites. Which is wonderful!

The tags I was previously tacking on:

These tags speak the truth, it's so easy to simply scroll by someone you don't like or to click out if you find it's not to your taste.

So I have a challenge to anyone hating on Dorian or Dorian fan content: make it yourself, go out there get the app and make a story you would be happy to read!

I think I also saw someone indirectly respond to these tags saying (or asking?) if the creators actually get paid by the company, and I may be wrong again but they do. The heart system is much like a uh casino more specifically card games.

You give money to a desk and get chips in return, you spend those chips, and then go back to the counter and get whatever money you won or you walk out with no won money.

You pay to get hearts (or get them free from events etc) go and spend the hearts on stories, and then those creators go and turn in the hearts for actual money. Except it's all automated and I don't actually know if this is how it works. Educated guess if you will.

Granted, a lot of the fan content is being made like anyone on ao3 is making content, the thought of money isn't there. They're just making it for fun, and Dorian is like "Look at you go! Have some money for your fun!" I think I've seen multiple Dorian fan creators say they have jobs outside of Dorian and just like to post the content there, the money is nice but it's not their job/main source of income.

A bit of an uh off-topic thing here, so feel free to stop reading here it's just about possible future posts 💖

I love talking to my friend about the different things I see in the fandom. The mischaracterization of Julian and Asra, the ramped shipping of the two, ignoring of some characters (looking at Portia my sweet girly), and a big doozy but Asra's gender presentation. I would possibly love to talk about these in the future in a very factual way and less opinionated.

But I did say that I wanted to keep this blog from being ranty, I mostly just meant things like this which are more "come in guys lay off" and less "This is what I see happening, let's have a friendly discussion about it and why it could be happening, as well as how to handle it in the future"

Sooo if you guys like these posts I might keep posting them in a Voide Talky Talk tag (seen below) so you can just mute that if you'd like to just see the reblogs and art I sometimes post.

Have a nice day, guys! And please be nice to one another.

About Dorian

I've been seeing a lot of people talking about Dorian recently, from drama to just being disappointed in them, so I wanted to give my two cents on them

But I also don't want to be a ranty blog so I'm gonna keep this below a cut. I'm also tired and about to go to bed so probably shouldn't be making this lol.

Dorian is Wonderful, its a great concept but sadly not too well executed.

The last I checked (since I had to delete Dorian for space) they haven't made new content for the Arcana, the most they did were side stories that were poorly received but then they started uploading the routes kind of directly from the Arcana app.

A lot of criticism I've seen and also a lot of Arcana content coming from Dorian I've seen has all been about stories made by the fans and not the actual Dorian team. So a lot of what people are saying about the characters being off is true just not what they're saying about the Dorian team themselves.

Yes, surprisingly, fans constantly misrepresent characters. I was just talking about this with my friend but people always seem to dumb Julian down to a "horny hack doctor who doesn't know what a medical school is" and Asra always seems to be reduced to a "lazy calm guy bro dude" or "horny enby who cant show a spec of gender" whereas other characters are also miss-characterized Asra and Julian being the most popular means its more noticeable with them.

I haven't consumed any Dorian fan stories but I have consumed content in other ways and this is my general consensus of the Arcana fandom.

So seeing people harshly criticizing Dorian and people making fan content on the app for being out of character seems very hypocritical.

I'm not saying don't point it out and be like “Man! That seems a bit out of character maybe try this response instead!”. I am saying not to harass people over a mistake that accidentally slipped through a totally fanmade project.

When in doubt just... Click off the story, maybe send a quick dm being like "Yo! Fyi I think there's a mistake here!" but just stop hating on Dorian and the fans making stories for what I assume is free. Treat this like ao3

Now if it does come out that the Dorian team is making more stories off-character or they are blatantly erasing character aspects then yeah we have reason to complain. But for now, they're a relatively new app and are simply trying to get their bearings, the Arcana App didn't use to be as pretty and polished as it is now so we just need to give the team time.

It does suck that they are shoving Dorian down the Arcana Apps throat...

[dawnagustd]

MU$IC FAIRY: discontinued

TW: stress, a long post, venting

For those of you who read Mu$ic Fairy, I made the difficult decision on Friday to discontinue it. There are several reasons why I made this decision, but I’ll only list the few I am comfortable with sharing:

1. Lack of reader interest

These screenshots were taken on today (10/30/22)

I’m woman enough to admit when something has flopped and Mu$ic Fairy definitely flopped lol. I tried my best, but I don’t think most readers liked where I was taking the story. My numbers declined significantly despite so many requests for a continuation. I gave 3 updates from June to July, within a month exactly and this is how it turned out. This is one of the main reasons the updates stopped coming. I should mention also that absolutely no one has joined the taglist since the original post dropped. So, yeah...

2. Lack of feedback/interaction

As always, my crew of readers did their thing and I am forever grateful for them. They always support no matter if they like the story or not. Signal boosts mean just as much as review reblogs. I got a few feedback/review asks here and there but the numbers just don’t match the form I dropped. Mu$ic Fairy was voted #1 by readers, yet it’s doing worse than the least voted.

3. Lack of motivation

I should state that while I do write for me, I only made Mu$ic Fairy a series because so many people asked for more. So to see my numbers and interactions decline so much it really made me feel insecure about what I was writing. There’s no way I can dish out 15 more chapters(that’s an estimate of what I had planned) with things declining the way they are. With loss of reader interest came loss of author motivation and as I’m reading this update I planned to post next month, I can see the toll this has taken on my writing itself.

Conclusion:

To the people who read this story and leave feedback, I apologize. I tried to keep it going but I have so much more to work on and this series is just holding me back. I keep stressing out over it because I have no idea how to carry on with it. 

I will not delete the WIP and outline. Maybe one day I can revive it or make it better. Maybe I’ll move it to ao3 some day... who knows? I really enjoy what I have and I think it’s a beautiful story so I can’t throw it away. But I can’t keep leading myself or you guys on. Thank you for the support you’ve given and the 3 chapters that are up will stay on my blog.💕

[winterhawkwonderland]

FAQs 2022 Edition

Hey there, Wonderland Participants! As promised, here is your 2022 edition of Questions We Have Received. Some of these are repeats from past years or blog asks or that we have previously answered, but this way it’s all in one place!

First though, a quick review of the dates and rules:

Dates:

Friday 4 November: Signups open - you will receive an automatic confirmation from Google Forms when you submit the form. All communication from the blog will be directed to the email you sign up with, so please use an email you check regularly. Also be sure to check your spam box! If you do not receive this email, please send us an Ask to confirm you have signed up.

Friday 11 November: Signups close

Thursday 17 November: Assignments will be emailed - these will arrive in the email inbox you provided when you signed up. If you do not have an assignment by 18 November, please check in with the Blog.  

Thursday 01 December: Mandatory Check-In #1

Monday 19 December Mandatory Check-In #2; Posting Date Signups begin

December 24-31st: Gifts Posted (by assigned date)

Sunday 15 Jan: Round-Up Posted

Rules:

This exchange is for good-hearted fun! Remember that you’re getting a gift, not ordering a commission.

Works submitted for this event have to be original works that haven’t yet been posted elsewhere in the fandom. Everybody deserves a new, unique gift!

Remember to keep your recipient a secret until gifts are revealed!

This event doesn’t allow any works involving the Big AO3 Four (Character Death, Underage, Rape/Non-con, Extreme Violence).

This event is open to all ages — with the caveat that participants under the age of 18 will not be allowed to create or receive sexual content.

This year we are allowing art and writing.

Fanart: Final pieces should be digitally consumable. This can include fanart, moodboards, and the like.

Fanfic: Absolute minimum 1000 words; no maximum; expectation between 1K-3K.

All works need to be complete before posting — this includes multi-chapter work.

All works should be submitted to the 2022 Winterhawk Wonderland AO3 Collection.

Have fun!

FAQs from past years:

If you have a question that is not answered here, please feel free to send an Ask! (Below a cut because it has gotten longer as the years go by.)

If we write a story best formatted as multiple chapters and finished by the deadline, can we post just chapter one on the day the story is due and each chapter on a new day thereafter or does an entire multi-chaptered work have to go up all at once?

The multi-chapter work must be complete by your posting date and must be completely posted by the end of posting.  Basically, posting runs December 25-31st - dates will be assigned on a first-come, first-served basis by google form sign-up, and your entire work must be completely posted by December 31st. If you have many chapters, we recommend that you choose an earlier posting date so that you can post a chapter each day until complete and still be done by final posting date.

Will I get assigned to make either art or fic or do I get the prompts and choose which to make?

You will receive three prompts from your gift recipient and you may fulfill the request in whatever fashion you like as long as it respects the recipients DNWs.  If you can make all three prompts into one art piece or one fic, go for it. You can focus on only one prompt. You can mash up two of the three! Whatever inspires you, we encourage you to get creative!

Are we allowed to combine our gift with a bingo fill if we can fit a bingo event prompt into the gift exchange prompt?

We are okay with this as long as the following conditions are met:

The work produced must prioritize the recipient’s request. If you can make werewolf den mothering and canon-compliant mission AU match up in a way that makes sense and that meets the recipient’s requests and DNWs, go for it.

The Bingo event is okay with prompts doing double-duty for our event and theirs.

The work created must meet the cumulative requirement for BOTH events. For example we are asking for 1-3k at minimum. If the Bingo requires 500 words, you would need to produce at least 1500 words to meet the guidelines for both events. It is hard to give an example of how that would apply to art, but the general idea is that you are creating a body of work which cumulatively meets the requirements for both events. Mood boards might need 6-8 images instead of 4, for example, or art might have a detailed background or full shading rather than a black and white sketch.Please use your good judgment with the idea that you are creating a gift for someone to enjoy in addition to filling a Bingo prompt rather than filling a Bingo prompt that you happen to gift someone.

Are threesome ships allowed for the exchange? As long as Clint and Bucky are prominently included? Can we put that as a request?

You can request an OT3 as part of your requests, but as this is a Winterhawk event your creator is under no obligation to fulfill any poly ships.  Additionally, the focus should definitely be on the Winterhawk aspect of the relationship. Please do not create a polyship that the recipient has not asked for!

When we will receive our matches?

On or before November 17th, depending on the Mods’ schedules.  We begin working on matches as soon as sign ups start!

How are matches made?

Matches are made through a very sophisticated system of: first we match up sensitive topic requests, such as ace/aro, trans, etc. with creators who are comfortable with those subjects and will treat them respectfully. Then we ensure that unusual DNWs (things that don’t fall under the Big 4 or that aren’t what most would consider ‘common’ DNWs such as abuse) are not matched with people who might accidentally include that DNW in a gift.  For example, if you put werewolves on your DNW list, we aren’t going to match you with someone who has submitted three werewolf prompts. That person likes werewolves, and you don’t! It’s not a good match! Finally, we pray over the spreadsheet to the Random Number Generator Gods, and they spit out divinely reveal Random Numbers for us to match. Entry number 1 gets matched to holy Russian Roulette entry number 25! Unless one of those already has been matched, that’s the pairing that gets emailed out! This is the fairest way we have come up with to do the matchmaking, but if you receive a prompt you absolutely feel you cannot create for, please reach out to us and we will see what we can do about resolving the situation, whether that means we make a matching change, or we ask the gift recipient for new prompts.

How do posting dates work?

After the second check in, a Google Form will be emailed out to all participants - you will be able to choose a date on the form that you would like to post on, running the entire length of the posting period (December 24-31st). There will be a limited number of slots per day (4-5 spots) and they will be filled on a first-come, first-served basis. Again, we recommend that if you have a multi-chapter work and would like to post a chapter per day/every other day that you sign up for an early posting date so that your work is completely posted before the event ends December 31st.

Artwork and AO3 - Do I have to post my art on AO3 for the exchange?

Unfortunately in past runs we have found that Tumblr often eats tags and notifications and we have unintentionally overlooked Gifts that were posted on Tumblr and tagged to the blog. Additionally, not every participant is on Tumblr, some people exist in that nebulous space where this hellsite isn’t their primary means of social media (weird, we know). So for those two reasons we do ask that all participants post their Gifts on AO3 and gift them to their assigned recipient. (AO3 pseuds were included in the original matching emails, but if you can’t find yours send us an ask or email and we’ll get your recipient’s AO3 name to you!) We then pull all the AO3 links to our Round Up post after the event is complete and make a Masterpost on Tumblr. 

Will you be reblogging Tumblr posts that are tagged to the blog?

We will not - similarly to art, when we’re tagged on Tumblr we don’t always get the notification because Tumblr is, well, Tumblr. This has led to issues where gifts are overlooked or don’t get reblogged which causes hurt feelings and confusion. For that reason, we ask that all participants post their Gifts to the AO3 collection, and we will collate a Master Post at the end of the event with everyone’s work, including their Tumblr handle if they have one.

What are the Check-Ins?

Just a way for the Mod Team to check in with participants to ensure things are running smoothly. We will ask you how your gift is coming along, if you’re having any trouble we can help with, and if you have any concerns you would like to voice.  

The second check-in is going to ask you to be a little more specific about your progress towards completion, and it will give us as mods an opportunity to offer you help if you need it.

What if I need to drop out?

Please, please, please let us know as soon as possible.  We have pinch-hitters on standby, very willing to step in if needed - we understand that things happen! We will not even ask you why you need to drop out, we will just say thank you for letting us know and then we will pass your recipients prompts on to a pinch hitter.  No drama at all, and nothing to feel anxious about.  No one will even know that you dropped out unless you tell them.  Gifts are kept anonymous until posting day, and your recipient will still receive a gift regardless of whether you are able to provide it or not.

Beta Readers/Cheer Readers/Other forms of writing support:

In previous years we have done things like beta-matching and setting people up with that kind of support, but unfortunately due to the shortened nature of this year’s exchange, we’re not going to be able to offer that. What we can do is this: If you are someone who would like to offer your services as writing support to another member of fandom please reach out to us either via blog Ask or email at winterhawkwonderland (at) gmail (dot) com.  We will provide all those who asked for writing support with a list of fandom members they can reach out to for help! You do not need to be participating in the exchange to offer your help, you need only be willing to support another member of fandom as they create something for the event. We will ask that all writers who are looking for help please be upfront and honest with anyone who offers them help in terms of what they are specifically looking for (SPaG, a full beta, cheer-reading, idea-bouncing, etc.) and what sort of fic they’re writing, including all content warnings.

Pinch-Hitting

If for some reason you need to drop, we do have pinch-hitter volunteers who are willing to take on a last minute assignment and make a gift if you need to drop out. As always, we will never ask you why you need to drop or give you any grief about dropping, nor will you be banned from any future exchanges. We understand that sometimes life happens to people. All we ask is that you notify us as soon as possible if you need to drop. Please don’t wait until your posting date to tell us you aren’t going to make it! We can be flexible if something comes up, but if you know you’re not feeling the vibe, just reach out to us either via ask or email.

Social Spaces

The Winterhawk Wonderland Exchange does not have an official Discord server, but if you are looking for a space to hang out, sprint, and make friends, there are several good Winterhawk/Marvel servers around! If we have any followers that would like to invite Exchange participants to their servers, please reach out to the blog via Ask and we will share the links.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 7

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,297

Warnings: Description of a dead body, major character death (but technically you already know it happened, just not how it did...so...), heartbreak, major angst, a bit of fluff at the end, a couple familiar faces may or may not show up

Author Note: Seriously, you all are the best readers I could ever hope to have. The response to Part 6 was unbelievable and I can’t thank everyone enough for the support, especially when I continue to be evil and end the segments with such horrible cliffhangers. 

Links to Part 1 and Part 6 and Part 8

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Maker, your head hurts. 

It throbs angrily as if a mudhorn has impaled your brain on its horn. In fact, your whole body feels like one giant bruise. Grimacing, you take a deep breath, only to enter a coughing fit when you inhale a lungful of smoke. 

Cracking an eye open, panic seizes you when all you see is smoke. Ash gray and thick, it obscures your immediate surroundings from view. You can’t even tell if it’s night or day. 

What the kriff is going on?

Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you slowly sit up and feel pieces of grit and rubble dig into the tender flesh of your palms. A quick look shows no blood, soulmate mark unaffected, and you sigh a quiet breath of relief. But then worry starts to sink in when you realize you can’t remember where you are or what knocked you unconscious. Before you can spiral into a panic attack, the ground beneath you starts to tremble, causing the tiny fragments of gravel to wildly bounce around.

A shrill metallic screech pierces your ears followed immediately by a massive burst of vibrant orange flames erupting in the distance. You yelp, hastily pushing yourself onto your feet and start to run in the opposite direction, ignoring the howl of protest from your aching body. 

You can’t even see two steps in front of you, effectively ruining your attempt at a quick escape as you clumsily skirt around piles of debris that appear out of the smoke and threaten to block your way. Every breath is a wheeze, lungs making it painfully clear they cannot draw in enough oxygen from the smoky atmosphere to support your chosen pace. But the mere thought of dying here in this nightmarish inferno is enough to urge you to keep moving, keep putting one foot in front of the other, even as it simultaneously creates a tight, anxious knot in your stomach.

Another explosion detonates behind you. The ground quakes and groans, cracks appearing at an alarming rate as if the planet itself is being torn apart by the chaos. Your foot catches on one of the rifts, eliciting a cry of shock to tear itself out of your throat when you’re unable to reclaim your balance and plummet forward.

Except it’s not the ground that rises up to meet you. 

No. 

It’s a body. 

A dead body, to be precise. Burnt to a blackened crisp, as if the person had been dropped directly into a sun. Their skeletal features are frozen in an expression of torture, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream. The stench of their seared flesh overwhelms your nostrils and ingrains itself in your brain, ensuring you’ll never forget the horrific smell for the rest of your lifetime.

Whimpering, you scramble backwards, curling your legs tight against your heaving chest. You look around, bile rising in your throat when you glimpse through the sea of smoke more charred corpses surrounding you. It’s as if you’ve stumbled upon a mass grave, and again the thought crosses your mind: what the kriff is going on?

You stand up, not wanting to linger another second in their presence, and continue moving forward, each footstep slow and careful as you maneuver around the bodies. The smoke is marginally thinner the further away you move from the fiery blasts, just enough for you to make out the faint outlines of collapsed buildings on either side of you, homes of families destroyed for reasons you don’t understand. Gut instinct keeps insisting that everything you’re seeing is wrong, that none of this destruction and carnage should have ever happened. 

Again, you attempt to string together your memories, forcing your brain to comply despite the pounding ache it produces in your temples. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a concussion. 

Details slowly start coming to mind, little and meaningless by themselves, but when put together form a grander picture. You came here to visit your best friend. ‘Here’ being a Mid-Rim planet with a ridiculously long and multisyllabic name you couldn’t pronounce then, and your poor head certainly can’t identify now. The transport flight had been long and you’d arrived later than anticipated, verging on late afternoon when you’d stepped off the craft. 

On your way to your friend’s house, the sun had abruptly gone dark. Everyone had stopped to look to the sky, yourself included. A light cruiser, kite-shaped and unmistakable, hovered directly overhead. Its presence was ominous, evoking the crowd of civilian spectators to murmur amongst themselves. 

Then its weapons unleashed a storm of hellfire.

Oh, Maker. How could you have ever forgotten the screams?

You’re pulled out of your dismal thoughts by the appearance of a dark shape ahead of you, its outline standing out as noticeably different than the surrounding rubble. Gradually, your brain starts to distinguish human features: a head, broad shoulders and limbs. 

It also occurs to you that they’re coming straight at you.

Before you can decide whether to flee or fight or do anything remotely conducive to increasing your odds of survival, the human-shaped blur barrels straight into you, hitting you with such force you instinctively grip onto their coat, just above their wrists, to keep from falling backwards. The feather-light grazing of the edge of your palm against their skin elicits a buzz of shocking warmth, as if you’ve touched a live wire instead of flesh.

It’s you, the thought pops into your head unprompted, like a fact you’ve always known since you were born. The feeling is breathtaking and electric, a lightning bolt striking the center of your heart. Every cell in your body is radiating exuberance and cheering: it’s you, it’s you, it’s you! The one I’ve been waiting for!

You’re pushed sideways, a small cry of surprise escaping your lips.

“Get out of my way.” It’s a masculine voice, sharp with impatience yet it wraps itself around your heart all the same. He doesn’t spare you a second glance as he continues heading in the direction you’ve been coming from.

“Wait,” you protest, because it’s not supposed to be like this. You’ve started shaking, from adrenaline or the shock of his dismissal, you’re not sure. 

The man pauses, keeping his back facing you. His dark clothes are conspicuously clean, and you can’t help comparing them to your own which are sooty and torn in places. For the second time, your gut instinct is telling you something is wrong, but this time you ignore it in favor of listening to the screaming of your heart urging you to never let this man out of your sight.

“We’re soulmates,” you say, desperate for him to stay.

His fingers curl into fists, the only forewarning you have before he snaps your heart in half as he mutters, “You could never be my soulmate.”

And then you’re watching as he disappears into the smoke, not once looking back to gauge the aftermath of his rejection. You had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that you and your soulmate would meet and live a long, happy life together until Death came to reap your souls. In less than thirty seconds, your soulmate had just cruelly crushed those dreams without either of you exchanging names or seeing each other’s faces.

Maybe you should have tried harder, or held onto him tighter. Maybe then you wouldn't be feeling this gaping hole in your chest where your heart used to beat.

Acting on impulse, you start running after him. If you can just have a second chance to make a better impression, maybe you can change his mind. Maybe you can convince him to accept you as his soulmate, agree to take your hand and never let go. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with you, deeply and profoundly, just like every soulmate pairing you’ve heard about.

 With a head full of maybes, you don’t even hear the bomb drop.

It hits the ground with a resounding thud, and then your world is an explosion of red and orange heat, consuming you whole without leaving behind any evidence you’d ever existed at all. Your vision shifts and blurs, memories of your lifetime flashing by too quickly to recognize each one, but through it all you hear a voice, his voice, echoing those dreadful words over and over again.

You could never be my soulmate. Never. Never. Never.

~~~

You wake up with a jolt, throat raw as if you really had been inhaling smoke. You’re drenched in sweat and you push away the heavy blanket covering you before realizing it is definitely not your blanket nor are you currently in your own bed. Looking around, panic begins to prickle along your nerve endings when you fail to recognize anything familiar about your location.

You’re in someone’s home, that much is obvious from the furnishings. The ceiling overhead is made of overlapping metal and is slightly rounded, reminding you of a cave or burrow. There is a lantern hanging on a nearby hook, but the light it emanates is dim compared to the sunshine pouring in from the four small, square-shaped windows cut into the wall behind you above the bed. The view through the windows is slightly blurry, but you can make out the blue sky and what you think is a corral of some kind. 

Rubbing a hand over your face to wipe away the lingering exhaustion, you’re surprised when your hand encounters something rough covering the side of your forehead. A bandage. Strange, you must have hit your head somewhere—

The past comes back in flashes: Din confessing his feelings, touching his hand, the spark of warmth, falling unconscious on the floor.

Where is Din?

“You are awake.”

The voice is expressionless and mechanical in tone, stating the obvious. Even so, you jump, not having noticed the droid sitting in the far corner of the room during your initial survey. Its red sensors and dark colored plating would make it look menacing if not for the tray it clutches in its hands, balancing cups and a pitcher.

“I am IG-11,” the droid says as it approaches.

“IG?” you echo hoarsely, sitting up with alarm. “As in one of those assassin droids?”

“I have been reprogrammed as a nurse.” It considers you for a moment, internal mechanisms whirring, and then the tray is held out closer for you to reach. “Tea?”

Hesitantly, you pour yourself some and hold the cup with both hands as you take a sip. The tea is warm as it slides down your throat, flavorful and far more exotic than the kind you’ve tasted back home in Umbriel. 

“Where am I?” you ask after you’ve swallowed two more gulps.

“Arvala-7.”

You blink, barely familiar with the name which only intensifies your worry about Din’s absence.

“Okay, but like, where exactly on Arvala-7?” you press, gesturing around the room. “How did I even get here?”

“Your current location is a moisture farm owned and operated by Kuiil,” IG-11 says, moving away to set the tray on a nearby table, though its head remains facing your direction. “Death brought you here unconscious with an injury to your central processing unit.”

“My central…” you trail off, squinting. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yes. It was meant to put you at ease.”

“Right.” You nod to yourself, reaching a decision. Downing the last of your drink, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and make a move to stand. “This has been great, but I’ve really got to go find Death so—”

A wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. Kriff, you think, closing your eyes until you’re certain you won’t be seeing double anymore. 

“You won’t find Death here.” A new voice, crackling with age, informs you. His words are ominous, but his tone isn’t one of malice or ill-intent. 

Turning, you see an Ugnaught approaching from the entrance of the house. He stops beside IG-11, green eyes peering at you from beneath bushy white eyebrows, but you don’t feel threatened by his nearness. 

“I am Kuiil. Death entrusted me with looking after you until his return from Nevarro,” he says, sitting down upon a stool with his arms braced upon his knees. “You must continue to rest until you are well. I have spoken.”

You press a hand to your chest, feeling a pang of hurt at Din’s decision. “He left?”

“Death is bound by creed to the universe to reap the dead. Nothing, not even his soulmate, can be put before it.”

You choke on your spit. “Soulmate? We’re not—”

“Even if he had not told me,” Kuiil interrupts, unwilling to hear your dissuading opinion when he is certain of his own. “I would have known it from how he stubbornly stayed at your side and by how loathsome he was to leave you behind. In all my years, I have not seen him behave in such a twitterpated manner.” 

“He…” Your voice wavers, torn between hopefulness and disbelief. “He really told you we’re soulmates?”

Kuiil, reaching towards the table for the pitcher of tea, pauses and slowly turns back to look at you. “You were unaware of your matched connection with Death? Did you two not touch hands as most fated pairs often do?”

Any reply you might have said falters when you look down at your hands in your lap. More specifically, your left hand. The one Din had grasped.  The one that in your past life had brushed against your soulmate minutes before you died. 

Right there in the middle of your palm, innocently gleaming like it’s always been there and therefore isn’t at all responsible for the rapid increase of your heartbeat, is a soulmate marking.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​​, @theocatkov​​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster​

[traitor-on-board]

I am rambling a lot in this post. If you see this because I tagged you, I just wanna tell you that you and your art, be it writing or drawing, is amazing so you don’t have to read through this entire thing.

Text on the pic:

AO3 is kind of reserved for the main parts of my AU

The prologue for the blog is there though

And parts of the story that happen before BtB

Tob was supposed to be only on tumblr

Which is why the Tob blog has it’s own Mod who is modeled after my sticksona while The Alteration blog has a mod that’s modeled after the character I always use for my pfps (on every site I am on)

Wattpad is just very convenient in that I can easily put the pictures and asks into the chapters. On AO3 I don’t know how to include pictures and I kind of feel like it just doesn’t belong on AO3. Tob is part of the AU but it works completely different because it relys not only on me being in the mood to write but also on you guys sending in asks.

Maybe I’ll write a ‘normal’ fanfiction about it after the story of the blog is complete (Which will probably be three acts in total while the main ‘The Alteration’ story will have four or five)

The timelines of ‘Traitor on board’ and ‘The end of Triple Threat’ / ‘???’ also differ in the main cast. TeoTT is all about Henry, Charles and Ellie with Sven, Burt and Earrings just being side characters with relatively small roles. In Tob it is basically the other way around.

In enjoy both storylines a lot and I’m glad that the Henry Stickmin-Multiverse allows for both to be ‘canon’ at the same time, but I still want to keep them separated as much as I can. Having them on two different websites helps a lot with that.

TeoTT was supposed to be an askblog at first too, because I got inspired to create it by the amazing @ending-the-cycle-ask, but I didn’t dare try it because I knew my drawing skills weren’t even close to Mod Mellos’ so I didn’t think I would get any asks.

But after starting to publish the story on AO3 I discovered that there are a lot of textbased askblogs that are very successful and fun to follow, like @ask-crashed-copperright​ and @run-away-toppats. I actually kind of hoped some of the askers from those blogs would come over here because I really enjoyed the parts where the anons were just messing with Reginald and the askers, and other anons, defended him. I really like the roleplay they had and have going on.

So I thought of other paths of CtM that I could explore with my AU since I only went down the TT-Route so far. Which is one of my favorites but it has to share that place with VH so here we are, in space, with leader Sven.

Even if crashed copperright and run away toppats gave me more confidence that this could work I still didn’t expect much out of this. I didn’t expect to get this many followers, even if it is a puny little number compared to other blogs, it’s a big one for me.

I’m really excited to show you guys all the things I have planned for the story of Tob and all my headcanons about the characters.

The Henry Stickmin fandom is unlike any other fandom I’ve been in so far, I’ve never seen this many different headcanons about the same characters and I also enjoy the ones that a lot of people stick with, like Sven loving sharks and Henry being selectively mute.

I love the different versions of Burt I’ve seen so far. If I had to rank them I couldn’t because they’re all great in their own way and storys. I love @azuri-the-imperfect-artist​ ‘His translator’ story, as well as yandere Charles, Hanahaki Stickvin, the innocent henry and the cursed BF AU for FNF. @jazzystarrlight​ is definitely my favorite artist and writer when it comes to curtisson and the T3nsion comic about Stickvin is just really cool too. @ask-burt-curtis-and-others​ has one of the best backstorys for Burt I’ve seen so far (Plus Dawn is another amazing artist and I still have to read ‘We’ve been here before’)

There are so many different things in this fandom and it’s probably not the only fandom that has this much different fancontent but I never had so much fun exploring all of it. I haven’t even encountered any ships I don’t like. I’ve just come to enjoy almost all of them.

Wattpad, tumblr and AO3 all have so much amazing content for this fandom and I want to contribute to all of them.

So Tob is mainly for tumblr.

And TeoTT / ??? is mainly for AO3

But they’ll probably both end up being on Wattpad too just because I like that you can add covers and illustrations to your storys.

I hope this answers your question and I didn’t bore you too much.

[no-other-words]

on the study of eroticism

Synopsis: Xie Lian discovers that there are some parts of his body that invites certain sensations and he can’t quite figure out what to do with it. His husband helps. Rated M | 2500w | post-canon, domestic fluff, a little spicy [ Read on AO3 ]

A sudden heat comes from nowhere, slowly bubbling from the bottom of his stomach. The spot where Hua Cheng kissed is sending tingles down his spine. It’s…a weird feeling.

Then a mischievous tongue swipes at the same spot and—his body jerks.

“Ah—!”

Xie Lian quickly covers his mouth. Was that…him? Did that keen, airy sound, full of want and something else come out of his lips? He’s never heard himself like this before. So foreign to his own ears. So strange.

“I didn’t know Your Highness has so many…receptive spots.”

---

The first time it happens, Xie Lian is utterly mortified.

They’re lazing away the afternoon, sitting on a hill near Puqi Shrine. Xie Lian’s snug against Hua Cheng and entirely engrossed in a book he found in an old book store.

Hua Cheng is quiet the entire time. Xie Lian learns that he’s okay being the silent accompaniment as long as he gets to watch Xie Lian to his heart’s content. It’s also out of respect, ‘this one doesn’t wish to break gege’s concentration when he’s reading.’

The summer breeze brings a refreshing chill to the otherwise humid weather. Xie Lian swipes his hair to the side, getting some air to his neck. He should look into lighter clothing, now that the—

Xie Lian’s thoughts cut off.

He feels Hua Cheng’s lips against the back of his neck. Warm breaths tickle his skin that make goosebumps rise deliciously down his arms. Xie Lian’s about to make an off-hand comment when those same lips open and place a daring kiss.

A sudden heat comes from nowhere, slowly bubbling from the bottom of his stomach. The spot where Hua Cheng kissed is sending tingles down his spine. It’s…a weird feeling.

Then a mischievous tongue swipes at the same spot and—his body jerks.

“Ah—!”

Xie Lian quickly covers his mouth. Was that…him? Did that keen, airy sound, full of want and something else come out of his lips? He’s never heard himself like this before. So foreign to his own ears. So strange.

So…lewd.

Hua Cheng does it again and this time Xie Lian grabs the legs on either side of him in a panic. His shoulders shrink inwards, a weak attempt to both escape and invite for more (more more). Xie Lian’s whole body buzzes with this sudden onslaught of pleasure and he’s not sure how to process it.

Something pulls his legs together and he realizes it’s himself. Squeezing tightly to hide the embarrassment.

He’s hard. Full on aroused by just a kiss on his neck.

What is this?!

Xie Lian peers back to see Hua Cheng, his gaze loving as always in his carefree and youthful appearance.

“Yes gege?” His husband asks as if he has no idea just how much Xie Lian is affected by him. “Did I do something wrong?”

A voice tells Xie Lian that Hua Cheng knows exactly what, but the unassuming smile on Hua Cheng’s face pushes any suspicion away.

“N-no. It’s nothing.”

The rest of their afternoon go undisturbed. Hua Cheng doesn’t make any more advances and lets Xie Lian to his reading. At least he tries to.

The intensity from Hua Cheng’s stare weighs heavy on his back.

---

It festers in his mind for the next passing days.

What had happened seems so trivial yet profoundly curious. Xie Lian has experienced pleasures before (oh has he, with Hua Cheng’s relentlessness and skill in bed). But never has he imagined that a single touch to that specific spot can incite such a reaction.

From his voice. The sharp pitch, with just a touch of breathlessness, almost choking from the sudden amount of pure want. He doesn’t think himself capable of producing such a sound. Ought to be dying from embarrassment.

Not even the heat from the kitchen fire can match the fever running through his head. He should concentrate on the task at hand. Concentrate!

He’s making radish soup tonight, specifically requested by his husband. Despite having an army of servants at their disposal, Xie Lian prefers to do the cooking. Especially for dinner. It reminds him of slow days at Puqi Shrine, when Hua Cheng was San Lang who made sure to keep his distance and didn’t dare to step over the line. And now?

Now he sneaks to Xie Lian’s side with every chance he gets, pretending to move with innocent intent when they both know Hua Cheng is itching to cop a feel. Xie Lian lets him. There is comfort in close proximity.

Xie Lian pauses at cutting the radishes and touches the back of his neck.

Huh. Nothing.

Curious indeed.

“And then?” Hua Cheng breaks him out of his reverie.

“Hmm?”

“Gege was telling me how those idiots got into a brawl again.”

Xie Lian straightens himself up and says, “ah yes. It was the usual misunderstanding between them. Mu Qing said something about Jian Lan and Feng Xin took it the wrong way. You know how he can be.”

“Foolishly so.”

Xie Lian sends him a not-so-stern look that Hua Cheng shrugs at. Is he wrong? He supposes not. Hua Cheng is rarely wrong in many things. He boasts when time calls for it, rightfully so. It’s one of his traits that Xie Lian finds so charming.

Xie Lian finishes up chopping up the green onions before dumping them into the pot. The aroma smells right this time. No sourness hidden in the air. Last time, Hua Cheng had suggested to maybe leave the vinegar out. Good call on that.

“San Lang, come have a taste.”

Hua Cheng obediently saunters over, stopping behind Xie Lian. He towers over him, both hands resting Xie Lian’s waist and the latter naturally leans back. Xie Lian scoops up a small amount of soup and blows at it.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Bending forward, Hua Cheng joins in and blows at the steaming spoon of soup. He shifts slightly and suddenly Xie Lian feels a soft stream of air tickling his ear.

A gasp escapes his lips before he could stop. His hand jerks, spilling soup over the pot.

There it is again. That tingling. The heat, travelling from the tip of his ear to the pool of his stomach and down to the place where he’s really trying not to think of right now. That blow of air to his ear had awaken something within his body, brought back memories of feverish nights and mind-blowing pleasure.

Xie Lian quietly swallows and wills his body to settle. It’s unseemly, getting this a strong of a reaction from such a meaningless act. It’s the same as when Hua Cheng had kissed the back of his neck. His body freezes then heats up in want, in need, in desire and—and what is it? There must be something wrong.

Hua Cheng, oblivious to all the turmoil battling inside Xie Lian, continues to blow at the soup. Or whatever’s left of it. Xie Lian should scoop another batch up. That’s right. Hua Cheng needs a taste. Why is his hand shaking?

Another steady stream of cool breath caresses his ear from behind and—

“San Lang!”

His cry comes out more as a desperate whimper, indecently so. Xie Lian’s other hand grips the edge of the counter so tightly that he can see veins lining out. He presses forward, willing his arousal away.

“It’s hot right? This one’s only taking measures to cool it down a bit,” says Hua Cheng coyly. “Can’t risk our tongues burning.”

Something else is already burning in Xie Lian and it’s definitely not his tongue.

Hua Cheng takes the arm holding the spoon and brings it towards to them. He takes a quick sip of the soup, waits, then gives Xie Lian an approving smile. Eyes bright and full of delight and…playful?

“Gege makes the best soup! It warms me up all nice inside.”

Xie Lian’s eyebrows twitch.

He watches Hua Cheng proceed to set the table in an easy-going manner. He wears a small grin that Xie Lian usually overlooks as contentment but now it seems to be carrying something more. Satisfaction. Amusement. Pride.

Is Hua Cheng catching on?

---

The ghost king is up to something. By now Xie Lian is sure of it.

Hua Cheng is an affectionate being, giving gentle brushes of their hands here and a soft nuzzle there. His husband is surprisingly rather tactile and he is all for it.

But lately, there has been a lot more sneak attacks. Ones that ruffle Xie Lian’s feathers, tickle his nerves, invoke those same strange and embarrassing sounds that Xie Lian is failing miserably at preventing. Some touches result in no reaction, just a weird look from Xie Lian. Others…oh how they make him shiver with unforeseen bliss.

It is almost as if Hua Cheng is looking for treasure chests hidden all over the map that is his body and the only way to uncover them is to blindly cop a feel or blow a kiss.

Today is no exception.

They’re having a stroll down the streets of Ghost City. Its civilians are delighted to see Hua Chengzhu out in public. A rare sighting. Of course, it is no surprise that beside their lord is his esteemed companion, the one with the bamboo hat and easygoing smile.

Xie Lian stops at a stall on the side, something catching his eyes. A display of old archives all crusty and tattered and really shouldn’t be up for sale. But Xie Lian is Xie Lian and knowledge is limitless so he curiously glances over the titles.

Chronicles of the Flesh-Eating Toad

A Thousand Nights in a Thousand Brothels

Great Conquests of Black Water Sinking Ships

“Anything catching our esteemed guest fancy?” The stall-owner asks. She’s a rather old woman, wrinkles marked deep into her leathery skin. One eye atrociously scarred and her attempt at a smile offers the opposite effect of warm and welcome.

Xie Lian hums in earnest, thinking seriously before answering. They quickly enter a conversation on forgotten literature and unwritten history. Hua Cheng, naturally, is already by Xie Lian’s side, a hand on his back.

That same hand, despite behaving at first, spread itself across the lower of his back, pressing just so. Xie Lian stops in his words then hitches a startled breath when he feels Hua Cheng’s hand slither upwards. It’s agonizingly slow, with fingers kneading ever so slightly against the bumps of his spine, inducing little humming shockwaves riding throughout his entire body.

The area below his stomach throbs, warming again to the same sensation. This time, Xie Lian keeps his voice in check and lets out only a choked breath.

“Gege?”

His ear tingles.

“Something on your mind?” Hua Cheng asks, leaning close. “Do you not feel well?”

His back. He’s thinking of his lower back and how it hums and makes him twist inside. He’s thinking of a kiss planted behind his neck and a sensual blow of breath to his ear tips. He thinks of cool skin and sweat, of long nights and vivid images, of a bed adorned in red and of highs he’s never ascended to before until Hua Cheng Hua Cheng San Lang—

Xie Lian staggers a little, alarming the stall-owner. She doesn’t want to offend Hua Chengzhu’s cherished person. But it is not her at all. It is the thumb now caressing lightly over the inside of his wrist and aaah, that’s another spot so sensitive to Hua Cheng’s touch. And he recognizes that this has all been done on purpose.

A whimper escapes his throat. Oh, how red his face must be.

“Gege doesn’t look too good. You’re warming up. Perhaps we should return for the night.” His voice is filled with worry but Xie Lian now knows the little game Hua Cheng is playing. He peers over and sure enough, that corner of Hua Cheng’s lips is gleefully curved.

“I didn’t know Your Highness has so many…receptive spots.”

---

His full assault comes when Xie Lian is at his weakest.

When the martial god is entangled in sheets, splayed across the bed in a state of helplessness. He writhes at every shock sent from below where ghost meets god, cries on each impact. Hua Cheng dominates from behind him, chest to back, and he takes full control of every nerve in Xie Lian’s body.

A hot tongue laps at the back of his neck and another wave of heat shoots straight to his arousal. This time, Xie Lian learns not to hold back and he moans keenly into the pillow.  When the same tongue moves to behind his ear, his voice shifts into an obscene-sounding whine.

“San Lang…San Lang—ah!”

He feels the incoming wave of pleasure, a tense ball forming inside just waiting to burst and he can’t wait. Oh the anticipation, oh the blissful release Xie Lian’s clumsily chasing right now. That Hua Cheng’s demanding.

“Gege is especially sensitive tonight,” Hua Cheng remarks, voice low and deceivingly calm. “He seems to be more vocal than usual.”

Xie Lian grinds desperately into the bed as Hua Cheng grinds into him. He always manages to hit that sweet spot that makes Xie Lian sing.

And he does. He sings brokenly into the night when Xie Lian finally comes wrecked and sweet. His whole body quivers, intoxicated in sheer delight.

But Hua Cheng doesn’t stop there. He mercifully gives Xie Lian a short moment before resuming his thrusts. The hand that had held Xie Lian’s moves to the base of his neck and slides sensually down his spine. Hot lips press against Xie Lian’s neck and begin to suckle at the skin.

It’s all too overwhelming. Xie Lian curves his back deliciously so, prying away from Hua Cheng’s touch yet yearning for more more more.

“S-San Lang..too much…”

His plead is in vain. Hua Cheng’s other hand wraps itself around Xie Lian’s wrist and the thumb languidly rubs over the erogenous area.

“What’s that, gege? Is this spot too much? This one doesn’t think so,” Hua Cheng murmurs as he blows softly at Xie Lian’s ear again. “Who knew gege had so many hidden treasures?”

Jolts of bliss come at every direction. His lower back, his neck, his ear, his wrist. Xie Lian can feel himself hard again and he can’t—he can’t again.

“San Lang, San Lang!”

Xie Lian abruptly knocks Hua Cheng off and flip them over, pinning his husband down with his legs and hands. His chest burns from heavy breathing and he takes a moment to gain composure. Hua Cheng wears an arrogant smirk.

He wants to wipe it right off.

“I like it when gege gets a little rough.”

Xie Lian huffs. “San Lang is being a bully.”

Hua Cheng raises a doubtful eyebrow. “This one merely wants to make His Highness feel good.”

Not fair, not fair at all. Hua Cheng lies there all comfortably, basking gloriously in the fact that he’s made Xie Lian this euphoric and happy. Knowing he’s made him feel so loved and adored and deserving.

Leaning down, Xie Lian presses a long kiss to Hua Cheng’s lips before moving down his jawline. Soft, lingering pecks trail along his husband’s neck. He stops at the Adam’s apple and gives a lick before continue. Hua Cheng takes one deep breathe—good, he’s relaxed.

Xie Lian arrives at his collarbone, gives a good stare, then gently bites on the edge.

Hua Cheng jolts beneath him, his abdominal clenching on instinct. Xie Lian hears a choked grunt, cut midway as if it was stopped desperately. He looks up to see Hua Cheng scrunching his eyebrows in slight confusion. Arousal swims in his eyes.

Xie Lian grins.

“Found yours.”

---

a/n: erogenous zones fascinate me.

[taurusart07]

The Savior of Fire

Hi guys, this is my first time posting a fic I did for the @grishaversebigbang. I had so much fun making this adventure with mu OCs and I was really happy of working with talented artists who showed the same passion for my characters as I did. 

Summary: After many reports of Grisha caravans with newly foundling (children) recruits are being raided by mercenaries or even undercover Druskelle. Grisha soldier Dimitri Alexand rov (OC), gets assigned with the mission of finding these missing children and the ones responsible for their kidnapping.  

Materialki: @awtetsuya27 (https://awtetsuya27.tumblr.com/post/661317187569614848/story-the-savior-of-fire-by-taurusart07-link)

@yourpancakefulness (https://yourpancakefulness.tumblr.com/post/661319128844500992/dimitri-wanted-to-leave-something-to-commemorate)

Soon to be on AO3.

For now here’s a link to the finished docs if you want to read now. 

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NQDnS1Ul9Y-p6RdNKpEk7G6MMsLMv1p_LBEPwpVPtlM/edit?usp=sharing

Chapter 1: 

Even at his worst, being around fire was always a comfort for Dimitri. Knowing he could take control of the situation surrounded by his element calmed his nerves. And even before he discovered he was a Grisha Inferni, he found comfort looking at the flame of a candle or getting lost in the dancing blazes of a fireplace.

When the Grisha examiners arrived at his small farm near Ryevost to find out about his nature, Dimitri was both excited and sad about going to live at the Little palace. For once he was ready to embrace his abilities and serve his country. But also, he felt bad for leaving his mother alone. After the loss of his father she was all he had left. However the Grisha assured him she would be safe if he left. He knew the risks, many enemy spies roamed the lands and could be on the hunt for Grisha at any time. 

Time passed, and the Ravkan Civil war had ended with The Drakling’s death. Afterwards the second army was reformed and the Etherealki order was now led by General Soya Nasyalensy. Now there was more activity of Grisha helping through the war, getting along with the Otkazat’sya and the first army made the war effort much easier. But the enemy kept resisting. More missions began to be assigned to small grisha groups, and no one was more enthusiastic about it than Dimitri. 

“Why are you so eager to leave the Little Palace to the front lines?” Asked a young Grisha Squaller. 

“Because,” Began Dimitri shoving his messy dark curly hair aside. “It’s been too long since I’ve been here. I want to see some action. Something I can prove myself” The squaller looked at him doubtfully, but of course, no one really understood Dimitri. 

He walked down the halls of the Little palace, towards the training grounds, where his instructor was waiting for him. For the greater part of his last year, Dimitri hadn’t really done full extense sessions of training, since his incident in the mountains of Petrazoi near Ryevost. On a recon mission. Dimitri had fallen deep into a cave where he was sure there was no way he was gonna get out of there alive, for he heard a fierce snarl come from the darkness of the cave. A wolf happened to land there as well, and at that moment that quiet cave became a battlefield for survival. Dimitri spent quite some time fighting off the wolf. his fire was not strong since his strength was quickly taken away by the constant struggle of keeping the predator’s fangs away from him.  

After intense hours fighting off the animal, Dimitri came out triumphant, seriously injured but he had managed to kill the Wolf. And once he did, he found out that this animal was an amplifier. Not like the sacred amplifiers Morozova created, but a natural one. At first, Dimitri wasn’t sure if he should take on its bones to merge with them, but when he wanted to check on it. He had a vision, It was almost as other Grisha with amplifiers described them. Right in front of the dead wolf, Dimitri saw a luminescent copy of the animal, bowing to him, out of respect.

 Hours after that, the rescue team arrived, and Dimitri’s injuries had to be taken care of at the little palace, so he requested them to take the dead wolf with him, and told them about its nature. The healers tended his wounds and suggested him rest since the bites of the wolf had been quite deep, some scratches in his torso and back would also take some time to heal properly. 

It had been nearly a year since that day, and during that year he felt incompetent by having these bambraces made out of the bones of the wolf, and not be able to push himself once more. But all that has changed now.    

“Are you ready to try this Dimitri?” Asked Oleg, an experienced Inferni trainer who began mentoring Dimitri from his first day at the little palace. Dimitri gave a silent nod and thus his teacher began an easy attack on him, something he could fend off. But to Dimitri, this felt too easy. With just a single hand gesture and his fists he managed to effortlessly push the incoming fire away from him. Another burst of flames were thrown at him, and without struggle he managed to dodge and even redirect some of the fire into Oleg. Now it was his turn to attack. His dark, almost coal colored gloves with red embroidery ready, and his mind focusing on trying to use the enhancement of his amplifier. He launched forward and threw a massive explosion of iridescent red and yellow sparks right to Oleg. His teacher managed to evade the attack with an impressive jump and still maintained a regal posture, as he dismissed the fire around him, clearing up the arena. 

“It seems you haven't lost any condition. And your technique has improved” Regarded Oleg “I’m quite impressed, your amplifier has indeed enhanced the heat on your fire as well, though you still need to work on precision” 

Dimitri Couldn’t expect more. Even though the healers had told him that he needed rest, and very moderate training, the truth was that inside his room there was none of it. He continued on with his training in complete silence and without anyone's knowledge of it. His fires had to be very low in size if he didn’t want to light up the entire little palace. Once again he began to send flames towards his mentor. As he kept on, the enhancement of the amplifier began to settle in with Dimitri’s will. 

Oleg started to give him more demanding shots of fire, seeing that Dimitri wasn’t so rusty at all. He sent out a gigantic wave of flames, only to distract him, and get closer to engage in hand in hand combat. Dimitri managed to block some of the attacks as they began to get more and more constant, not giving him time to pack a punch at Oleg, or even stunt him or get him out of his way. His feet almost reached the edge of the arena, when he decided to pull out a trick he invented on his secret sessions. It required minimal movement, but a great deal of concentration. As he kept Blocking Oleg from taking him off the limits of the arena. “You ready to give it a rest boy?” Teased Oleg. 

Dimitri began to feel the heat accumulating in his forearms and hands, however he did not feel any pain, unlike Oleg, who was rapidly disengaged once the heat hurt him enough. 

“Looks like you learned some tricks on your own” Said Oleg, surprised. 

“It wasn’t so hard, and as you can see it doesn’t require much mobility” Explained Dimitri, worried he would get in trouble for not following strict instructions from the Healers.

“Regardless,” Added Oleg, taking off his gloves, and shoving away the sweat on his slightly wrinkles forehead, “You should've at least told someone, in case anything happened” He dismissed Dimitri, and let him join his fellow comrades, who were impressed by the skill he showed at the arena, and was asked to show them how to do that trick. 

“It’s not gonna be that useful, don’t you think?” Said one of the older Inferni. “We barely get into hand to hand fighting. Most Druskelle I’ve encountered had been reduced to ashes before getting near me” He bragged. Dimitri did not take his opinion at all, since he was always told by Oleg to always expect the worst of a situation and no to rely always on his power. Dimitri left the Training grounds on his own. He mostly didn’t hang out with many of his own, just with Pyotr, another inferni who he grew close to after they both were taken under the mentroy of Oleg. As he reached the halls of the palace. He was first planning on going to his room and getting some rest, cause even though he had not lost his edge, he definitely lost some resistance, however that would not stop him. Going past the library he saw some young durasts studying on some books, furthermore he was about to get to his room, when he got caught by an old familiar voice. 

“Dimitri!'' It was his old  life time friend Pyotr, he was sporting his typical blue kefta with spiky red embroidery on it. His hair was much larger than he remembered. And his light fair skin was covered with some minor scars obtained at the battlefield. He ran towards his friend and partner in crime, and embraced him with a hug. They hadn't seen each other for almost a year, since most inferni were sent to the front lines along with the Heartrenders and the first army. When Pyotr and the rest got orders to leave, Dimitri was barely tended by the healers after the encounter at the cave. 

“It’s been so long my friend,” Said Dimitri “How are things on the Fjerdan front line?” He asked. They constantly received reports every other night, however the casualties were hardly named, and the letters he received from his best friend told so little. 

“Well… Pretty intense as you can see'' Answered Pyotr, pointing at his scars on his face “Fortunately they’re not gonna get permanent… But yes, things are tough. The Fjerdans are getting more brutal, even with our strengths combined, both armies are barely resisting” he said. 

“Then why are you here?” Asked Dimitri. 

“To escort you,”His friend answered. 

What? Thought Dimitri . “Where?” 

“Just come with me. Trust me.” Said Pyotr, taking Dimitri back to the halls, without giving any more details on where they were going. But he had to trust his lifelong friend, just as he always did. 

When Dimitri Finally arrived  he was completely out of words. Right inside of a rounded dark room illuminated by bright lights, was the Triumvirate in front of him. Genya Saffin leader of the Corporalki and talented tailor, David Kostyk master fabrikator and head of the Materialki, and lastly the fierce and only Zoya Nasyalensky General of the etherealki. Among them were many more Grisha commanders and lieutenants discussing the war effort.    

“Is it Him?” asked General Zoya to Pyotr. Dimitri remembered reading some letters of his friend about how sometimes they were saved by Zoya and her powerful winds and storms she summoned. However he did not expect to have direct contact with her, with any of the triumvirate. Pyotr nodded to her and so Dimitri walked forward trying to not show his excitement and fear by being in the presence of his leaders. 

“Dimitri Alexandrov, at your service. Grisha inferni, former member of the seventh regiment.” His answer sounded as if he were reading it outloud in front of a class. Some Grisha in the crowd found his answer funny and some looked doubtful at him. “Former member?” Questioned Zoya. 

“I had an incident a year ago,” Explained Dimitri. “Ever since that I’ve been on break. But I’m more than ready to be back in the field, I swear” It was true. The least he wanted was to be back in his room training in complete silence. He wanted to hear the roar of his fires.  

“I’m not sending you to the battlefield,” She began. Her deep black hair hanging on her sides and her blue kefta shimmered with the lights. “There have been some events across the country that concern us,” What could she possibly be talking about?. Dimitri just kept his mouth silent and let her explain. “As some of the guards have informed. The caravans of examiners that went to the first near cities have not arrived and It’s been long since they left the palace in order to find new grisha among children” Informed Zoya. “Only a wounded squaller managed to arrive at the palace yesterday. He claims their caravan had been raided by unknown enemies, who took the children captive, and killed our Grisha brothers and sisters.” 

Thoughts of his past began to run through Dimitri’s head, Of how they prick his arm to reveal his inferni powers, of his arrival at the little palace, and his first training lessons with Oleg, along with Pyotr. If what Zoya said was true, then children just like he once was, were not only taken away from their families but from their future, as a soldier, and as a Grisha. People like Dimitri were still not seen with the best intentions around the world. The Fjerdans burned Grisha at the stake, while the Shu dedicated extensive experiments on them. Ketterdam wasn’t a good place either, for they were mostly sold out as indentures for the wealthiest merchants. But children offered something more to those countries. The Shu might try to dissect their living bodies to further investigations, and the Fjerdans might even want to try out the dangerous drug, Jurda Perm on them, as for the ketterdam businesses, those children without the dominion of their powers, may just as well be slaves or even delight se the carnal desires of sick old men around that treacherous city. 

“As for what our records show, the examiner parties we’ve sent out have been to the south, from Sikursk, Caryeva, Keramzim, Kribirsk, and the west to Os Kervo, and their near villages and farms” Said Zoya, showing everything she explained on a three dimensional map, of all ravka and the north and south borders. It was still not big enough to fill the entire table, as the pieces had connections like a puzzle that Dimitri guessed were pieces of the other countries. 

“Just yesterday we sent out a crew towards Ryevost, and another to Balakirev” Said Genya, her soft voice filled the entire room, and it was quite hard for Dimitri to not look at her eyepatch, a symbol of what happened to her at the civil war. 

“Which means they should be arriving there by now, and the parties heading north still have to report on arrival” she continued. “We need to find out who are these captors, if they’re druskelle or mercenaries after a high price on Grisha children”

“Will you do that, Dimitri?” Asked Zoya out of nowhere. Dimitri has always expected an assignment, he just didn’t expect it to be of such importance.   

“You want me to look for these children?” He asked, the question was pretty dumb of his part, but his mind still hung over the task he had ahead” 

“I’ve heard that you kept asking for open assignments the whole year, even with your condition in mind” Said Zoya. “Also a fellow comrade of yours spoke fondly of your determination, and aptitude for this job” She glanced subtly at Pyotr. “You must assemble a team with Grisha in which you can put your whole trust on this job, You are expected to leave tomorrow at dawn” She said finally, heading towards distance, to hand him an archive with the details of his first mission after a very long time. 

“I will not let you down, General” Said Dimitri, “I'll find those kids and bring them home”  He said as he was Dismissed by Zoya. He began wondering how he could carry such a test on himself, he wondered who he would contact to join him. As he left the room, walking through the halls, Pyotr intercepted him, congratulating him for receiving such an important job. “It won’t be easy” said Pyotr, “You'll definitely need one or two Heartrenders, and possibly another etherealki” 

“I know just one who can come with me,'' said Dimitri, looking at his friend while they kept walking. 

“Who?” wondered Pyotr naively. 

“You, idiot,” Replied Dimitri, laughing. Of course he would need his best friend in this, He always reminded Dimitri of what he was capable of and more. “You really thought I would do this without you?”   

They kept planning who else to bring, Dimitri didn’t want a whole group as that might draw attention when they needed it less. He definitely agreed with Pyotr, they would need at least a heartrender, And dimitri knew who was fit for this Job. 

 “You’re insane” Said Pyotr, “Raol Ralevsky is the most hated Grisha among his class” 

“And that attitude of his and his incredible skill is what we need” Explained Dimitri. He was his first immediate choice. Besides, Dimitri knew he wasn’t that awful, as Raol once helped Dimitri to control his amplifier, for he also had one within his neck, a massive claw of a Tiger he once hunted. 

“I heard he once took about six Druskelle on his own, completely destroyed their bodies, that man shows no mercy”

“Once again proving my point, we don’t know if these captors are Fjerdans or not, or how many are there when they attack the caravans. Just trust me on this, we need to get Raol, I need you to let him know, just tell him Dimitri is asking him for this”

“You're gonna tell me that now you’re friends with him?” Asked Pyotr, appalled “More of an ally at the palace” Replied Dimitri, as he left his friend to be alone in his room. 

Inside of the grand place he had for his own, he took off his blue kefta, and hung it on a chair near his wardrobe. The room curtains were completely blocking the last hours of light the sun had left. He took off an ointment from the drawer at his bed. with the small red bottle in hand Dimitri walked to the next room at his dorm, where he mostly trained and where a silver bathtub was waiting for him with warm water. He placed the bottle on a small table near a full body mirror. The ointment was a tonic given to him by the healers to help the deepest wounds heal up, but it didn’t seem to do any effect. However he continued on hoping it would work one day.  

He took off his white shirt that was covered by the kefta. revealing his scarred light brown skin, reminiscent of his mother who came from Novyi Zem. His leaned but chiseled torso still hadn’t lost the massive scar that crossed from all over his chest to his belly. Dimitri poured some of the ointment on his right hand and slowly began to rub it across the scar. He then turned around and using the mirror he began to apply more of it across the few scars left on his back. After a couple minutes, the ointment dried off and Dimitri striped of the rest of his clothes to enter the bathtub, and for once, in the heat of the water, the smallest pain that was attached to him the whole day vanished. 

He knew that he would not receive any of these glimpses of pain relief for the next days or weeks during his mission, but he preferred being outside, in the heat of the action and in the heat of a royal bath.