#i just wish that....tagged side ships actually effected the story in some way

[darsynia]

Shipping and Handling | Ch 2: Urgency

(Stucky x Reader slow burn, Steve x Reader fast burn, Friendship all around)

SERIES MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Summary: There’s a chance you and Steve aren’t the only people dealing with the strange chemical bond from Mistress, so you agree to submit to daily tests that should help Dr. Banner figure out what’s happening, and maybe how to stop it. The problem? Seeing each other every day brings a new set of side-effects that both of you hide from each other and Banner until things come to a head– not just for the two of you, but also for the man who has to deal with you: Bucky Barnes. Length/Warnings: 3,028 / sexual situations Prompt: @allcapsbingo April Adoptable: Sex Pollen ((I know, right??))

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreblogsfics @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee @eralen @mrsevans90 @myinconnelly1 @thorinsmistress @cjand10 @wckedheart @samfreakingwinchester @blind-devil @sanniegirl1214 @karimac @dispatchvampire

Excerpt:

Steve’s expression turns sheepish. “I was trying to persuade him to walk you out.” 

“Let me guess, he was doing the same?”

He nods. The elevator protests the doors remaining open, and he murmurs some kind of command that changes the red color to green.

“You could escort me down?”

“That’s probably a bad idea,” Steve says solicitously. There’s a light in his eyes that sends a thrill along your spine, and you almost wish you could push him to change his mind-- but then you remember how important it is to figure out what the hell Mistress is doing to the many people exposed to it every day. Encouraging Steve Rogers to take an elevator ride so you can stand near him and wish he would kiss you is probably not furthering the cause of science.

Chapter Two: Urgency

In retrospect, inviting you over for dinner has clearly made things more complicated, not less. Bucky had figured you’d show up, they’d order food, and then the three of you would have an uncomfortable but necessary conversation (one he’d get to enjoy observing, which would make up for the awkwardness).

Instead, he’s barely holding in his amusement at the way things have devolved into an R-rated I Love Lucy episode.

In a strained voice, you observe, “The connections are hopelessly stretched. You’ll probably need a whole new stove.”

Bucky just nods.

“It’s actually kind of impressive, the way the metal crocheted with the cotton in this tea towel withstood the stress like that.”

He clears his throat to cover his need to laugh, but the sound ends on a wheeze.

“Damnit, what?”

“You practically knelt down in front of him. Take pity, will you Doll?” 

Bucky only realizes the endearment after he’s said it aloud, and to minimize the damage, he clenches his jaw and twists his lips into an inconsequential smile.

It doesn’t work.

“You’ve never called me that before,” you say, your lovely eyes lit with surprise and something else, something he shouldn’t be looking for. 

Gruffly, he says, “Really?” It’s a shut-down tactic, because people are much less likely to elaborate on something they’re uncertain over. He maximizes its effect by leaning down to examine the oven door, which is indeed fucked.  

“Really. I liked it, don’t worry.” Your voice is soft. “Looks like you’ll be needing these menus, I doubt the stove is kitchen rated with the door off! Come on, I’m sure Steve is going to be hungry when he shows back up.”

Are… you joking about what Steve’s doing in his room right now? Bucky lunges over to block your way out of the kitchen. The shirt you’re wearing smells like the detergent he and Steve use, and something about smelling Steve on you sends heat straight to his groin.

He really should’ve punched Banner, too.

“What?”  

“Are you sure you want everything out in the open?” You look at him, uncomprehending, and Bucky’s a hypocrite, because there’s no way any of what he’s been thinking about lately can be in the open.

You’re shaking your head at him. “I don’t--”

He grips the doorframe so tightly it gives a little under his metal hand. “Steve is jerking off in there. He’d only do that while we’re waiting out here because he has to. If he comes out here and you make a comment like that, he’ll feel guilty for--”

“--weeks. Maybe forever. Shit.” you interrupt. He pushes off from the door to let you pass, and you continue; “Banner seemed certain that the… intensity was because we’d spent those two weeks apart, but this is--” You break off and drop the pile of menus on the dining room table with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m really worried it’s going to be untenable, but then I remember all the people out there this could happen to, you know?”

Bucky nods toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms, where Steve is probably touching himself right now. “Is that the ‘untenable’ you’re talking about?”

Your face wrenches in embarrassment, eyes closed, and you nod.

Because he doesn’t want to go through this whole ordeal without some amusement at his own expense, he says, “There are two bedrooms, if you need to borrow mine? You know where it is.”

Your eyes pop open, and you suck in a breath, tightening the blue shirt enough that he can see your nipples are hard. Then you smack him hard on the right arm.

“The look on your face! Stop fake-leering at me, asshole, I was already worried about that!”

That was close. “Worried about what?”

“Well I got to thinking, it’s not like the combined pheromones are inert, right? So anyone who spends time around the two of us could get hit with them. Hell, maybe even the solo ones we were making might be able to--” You retreat to the other side of the table like you need the fortitude of distance. “You’ve still been able to achieve-- I mean… Have you?”

“Roll that back. You think that stuff could turn me as horny as the two of you?”

You wince. “Promise me you’ll tell me if anything changes? For science?”

“I promise,” Bucky says. He is affected, but nothing whatsoever has changed.

“And you can still…”

He raises his eyebrows and pretends not to understand.

“Bucky!” Your exasperation is not a deterrent at all.

“Just spit it out.”

“Can you come?”

He cannot resist. “Come where?”

“Oh my God, I cannot believe you!” Instead of stomping off to cool down, you march right up to him and grab the loose sides of the dress shirt he’s wearing on top of his tee. “I am asking you if you can orgasm, you monumental dickhead!”

Maybe the pheromones you and Steve are emitting are doing something, because a number of inappropriate things leap immediately to mind.

He chooses the least offensive of the five. “Pretty sure I can, but I’m willing to go try right now, if it’s that important to you.”

Steve speaks up from the hallway before you can vocalize the affectionate fury Bucky sees written all over your face. “Everything okay?” 

Steve’s hairline is wet, like he’d stepped into the bathroom to splash his face with water, and his own shirt is untucked. By now, Bucky’s used to steeling himself against his attraction to Steve, but he’s not used to being so close to someone who can figure out what he’s thinking before he shoves it away. Your hands tighten on his shirt, and when he looks back at you, there’s understanding in your eyes.

Understanding and guilt.

Carefully, you reach up to adjust Bucky’s collar as if that’s what you’d been doing all along, patting at his chest maternally before stepping away. “Starting to think you had Steve help you dress before you’d show up at the restaurant for those 40’s nights,” you tease.

Shit. Shit. Are you trying to-- Shit.

Across the room, Steve’s body language is stiff, and he adopts a false joviality that has Bucky screaming in his own head at the multitude of misunderstandings.

“Are you kidding? He snuck out! Probably didn’t want me to ask why he was wearing all that leather on a weeknight.” A second later, Steve waves his hand in embarrassment and comes over to the table. “That came out like I was implying he dresses in leather on the weeken--”

“Stop!” Bucky groans. “I’m starving and the two of you are nuts. Pick something and order, would you?” He walks off toward the window and hopes that you and Steve will mix pheromones so much you’ll completely forget what you think you just saw.

The need to stare at each other (and feed him) seems to be enough to preoccupy the two of you. Bucky looks out at the bustle of rush-hour traffic and tries to tamp down his panic. Of all the struggles he’d faced in the past year, he’d never have picked ‘caring too much about his closest friends’ as the one to give him the most trouble. It’s an unfair thought on its face, because the burden of all his other shit has been lifted by having you and Steve around.

It’s not just caring, though, and as much as he wants to lie to himself, it’s not just physical, either. If there was any way to reassure you about the pheromones, he would, but if Bucky’s honest with himself, he’s glad you’re worried about that. It gives him cover.

He sighs. A thought that had occurred to him a few nights ago pops back up. To have friends is one thing, to want someone is another thing, but to know better than to act on it? To step aside for the sake of the people he cares most about in the world… that’s a sign that he’s more human than weapon. It’s cold comfort, but he’s used to the cold.

The knowledge of what Steve had been doing and why is burning through your insides. It looks like it’s burning through him too, but from embarrassment, since he’s just worked through his other discomfort.

Steve clears his throat and reaches over to scatter some of the menus. “Any preferences?”

“Let me see what we’ve got,” you say, and he nods, loosing a lock of wet hair that flops onto his forehead.

It suddenly occurs to you the reason why it’s wet-- he went to wash his hands, and just in case that wasn’t enough, he washed his face, too. Because he’s a gentleman, despite what it was he was doing. You feel such a rush of pure affection for him that it shakes your ability to stand. To cover it, you drag out the chair you’re standing near and fall into it, reaching for the brochures.

“Do you, ah…” 

He falls silent, and when you look up, he looks supremely uncomfortable. You lift your brows.

“Do you need to…”

You are completely baffled-- until you aren’t. “Oh, God, thank you, but no. I’ll--  I’ll manage.”

His nod is anxious, so you hand over the menu you had your eye on and do your very best not to worry that you should have taken him up on it. After all, you weren’t able to change your underpants, but if there’s a world where you have to ask Captain America if he can smell your arousal, you’d rather just disappear into the NYC sewers.

Dinner goes surprisingly well. You already knew that Bucky and Steve got on well, and over the course of the evening, you can tell that your rapport with Bucky is reassuring to Steve. Instead of making you uncomfortable, the simmering heat you’re afflicted with seems to keep you on your toes, a constant reminder to be careful about what you say and do, lest you awaken the same banked fire in Steve. 

You let the two men run the conversation, and at times they almost fall over each other to share anecdotes. When you’re ready to leave, you step away to use the bathroom and come out to Bucky and Steve deep in a serious discussion, almost an argument. Maybe it’s your full, happy stomach, maybe it’s your sense of impishness, but instead of alerting them to your presence in the room, you sneak over to the door and make it to the elevator before Steve catches up to you.

“Making me feel like a failed host,” he says, jogging over to hold his hand over the just-opened doors.

“Not at all,” you smile. “You two looked like you were having an important conversation.”

Steve’s expression turns sheepish. “I was trying to persuade him to walk you out.” 

“Let me guess, he was doing the same?”

He nods. The elevator protests the doors remaining open, and Steve murmurs some kind of command that changes the red color to green.

“You could escort me down?”

“That’s probably a bad idea,” Steve says solicitously. There’s a light in his eyes that sends a thrill along your spine, and you almost wish you could push him to change his mind-- but then you remember how important it is to figure out what the hell Mistress is doing to the many people exposed to it every day. Encouraging Steve Rogers to take an elevator ride so you can stand near him and wish he would kiss you is probably not furthering the cause of science.

“Good night then, Sir Knight,” you tease, dipping into a curtsey. Your skirt is tight along your thighs, but you’re able to use the tails of your borrowed blue shirt to aid in the look.

When you lift your head, the elevator doors are closing, and Steve is nowhere in sight. It’s not a big deal-- you’ll be seeing each other once a day for the foreseeable future anyway.

Not that you’re looking forward to that, or anything.

Steve and Bucky had agreed to show up at the performance the next day, to satisfy the proximity requirement. As expected, the 90’s crowd is different from the 40’s one, but the energy is high, and you end the night on a literal high note. The plan is for the two of them to come over after the set to spend a few minutes physically close by, but as usual, the band is crowded by admirers who ‘just want to chat a few minutes.’

You can see that Bucky’s temper is flaring by the way Steve’s fingertips whiten on his friend’s shoulder, so you try to hurry. The last person to push through to speak to you is carrying two of the restaurant’s signature ‘flagon’ beer glasses, and he enthusiastically thrusts one into your hands before you can stop him. The action sloshes the liquid over onto the back of your hand.

Before you can formulate a polite refusal, the restaurant’s bar bouncer Benji throws a collegial arm around the man’s shoulder and guides him away.

“Saved a life, right there,” Steve says in a low voice beside you. You actually slump over into him for a few seconds in relief, feeling him initially stiffen at first contact before his arm comes around to support you.

“What do you mean?” you ask, lifting your hand up to lick off the alcohol. 

To your surprise, Steve spins you the few steps out into the dance floor. The ballad currently playing means that the couples around you are slow-dancing in the ‘modern’ style, hands on hips or shoulders, swaying close with little to no artistry. His hand at your wrist is an inexorable band as he positions your palm flat on his chest, his other hand grasping the small of your back in defiance of convention.

“Okay, clearly you have panicked,” you say, blinking up at him. Your other hand is holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket as if for dear life, because holy god, the man sends your senses reeling.

“Inside pocket, Mistress test tabs. Swab your hand,” he whispers hoarsely.

Your steps falter, and you nod. Testing has become second-nature at this point, so you don’t even need to check the box for the color key. 

“Orange,” Steve says, when he sees the strip. His hand at your back sweeps you closer. Orange is more than the yellow or green of faint traces. 

The drink was dosed.

“On it,” Bucky husks as he brushes past the two of you, plucking the test strip from your fingers on the way. Because of Steve’s close stance, you’re helpless to stop him-- a point Steve makes very clear by spreading his fingers at your back. The possessiveness of the action works like napalm in your bloodstream, but the pressure of each fingertip against your skin sends a very clear message: you may not follow.

There’s napalm, and then there’s napalm.

Fixing your eyes on his chest, and with a bright smile hiding that your teeth are clenched, you hiss, “Steve, if we weren’t in my workplace, I would be pitching a fit right now. You are not in charge of what I do or say, do you understand me?”

The pained sound from his throat drags your eyes up to his. Steve looks stricken, and you realize you’d offered the man who tried to deliberately drug you with Mistress more grace than the one who dearly wishes he hadn’t. Your apology dusts in your mouth when he starts speaking.

“I couldn’t protect you when it counted. I can’t protect you from me. I will damn well protect you from everything else!”

As he speaks, Steve moves the two of you off of the dance floor and back past the bar into the alcove Benji usually stands in. He’s shaking, and you’re overwhelmed, the fear of what you’ve just dodged only prickling the edges of your consciousness. The only thing you can think of to defuse the moment is Bucky’s gripe about Steve’s reticence for swearing aloud.

At the very last second, you realize you can’t use the phrasing you’d meant to, because this man’s mother has been dead a very very long time.

“You kiss your lovers with that mouth?”

Time stands still for a long second as you regard each other. Then, Steve’s head tips to the side, eyes locking onto your mouth. His lips part, and the sigh he releases seems to release the angry tension he’d been holding since pulling you close in the first place.

“You tell me,” he whispers, releasing you and holding his hands up like a man being held hostage. In a way he is. You both are.

You can’t recall wanting to kiss someone more than you do right now. To hell with absolutely everything else! you think to yourself, reaching your hand up toward the side of his face.

The wetness on that hand reminds you, and you draw back. “Shit. Shit, Steve! Mistress!”

He looks at your lips again, then your hand, then your chest, and then dashes off into the crowd of people only to reappear again impossibly quickly with a damp washcloth from the bar. Without asking, he scrubs at your hand-- but you bite your lip at the sensations. Even that small amount of the drug is affecting you, having soaked in while you were distracted by the undercurrent of desire you always feel around Steve.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice low. 

He makes a little noise in response, then puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “We need to get to Banner. If what I’m feeling is related to the Mistress in your system--”

“Oh God,” you whisper.

Steve’s grip on you tightens, and he snaps his head back like he’d been about to lean in for a kiss before his instincts kicked in.

Your instincts are affected by Mistress, but you don’t give a shit. You reach up with both hands and cup his face. “In the cab.”

“Stark sent a car, actually. I sent a distress call.”

“Even better.”

To be continued...

[writernopal]

✍Writer Interview✍

Thanks to @teamdilf for tagging me here!

When did you start writing?

Technically, when I was like 15/16. I was writing a little bit back then but I don't remember what I was writing, which sucks. I really wish I remembered! After that I picked writing back up in summer of 2019.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Yep! I think its kind of limiting to only read the genre you write. There's always stuff you can take from other places and work it into your writing. It can produce some surprising results! That said, my favorites to read are non-fiction and classic works of fiction.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No and no. There are plenty of authors I admire but I've got a voice of my own and I don't particularly think we need two of anybody.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

So I have two main things I use to write: a desktop computer and a laptop. My desktop is on a desk (surprise, surprise lol) in the corner of a room with two little windows above it. I recently upgraded the setup to have one ultrawide monitor instead of two smaller side-by-side ones to help me focus when I write because I noticed when I was writing on my laptop I'd get more done because I only had one screen. I also have a mechanical keyboard with blank keys for cool points lol. On the wall beside my desk are a bunch of posters and things, some for inspiration, others just because I like them. Of course I've got some pirate/ship themed art there too! With my laptop I kind of take that anywhere, so with that I write on the couch, the dining room, cafes, libraries etc but never in my bed because then I won't sleep. I've been trying to have better sleep hygiene and phone habits in general which is only worth mentioning here because I used to write on my phone but I don't anymore.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music, but like really listening to it. As in, closing my eyes, not doing anything, and being present as its playing. I'm very in tune with how my body experiences feelings/emotions so doing that will usually make me feel something and from there its just letting my mind wander.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Forbidden/taboo things. It can be anything from interpersonal relationships, oppressive systems, internalized responses to stimuli, etc. Also drawing connections between the world and our environment and the stages of our lives or even things that happening. To me, those things are all connected. And no, they don't surprise me one bit.

What is your reason for writing?

To make sense of the world around me. And to live lives I won't have time for in my short one.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Anytime someone notices a theme or callback in my work. Which I think has maybe happened once so I do my best not to rely on engagement to motivate me otherwise I think I'd go insane.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Oh ideally I don't want my readers thinking about me at all lol. I want them thinking about the story and what it makes them feel.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Prose. Especially of the visceral or imagery-heavy variety.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I think its quite strong but I think I've reached the limit of what I can do on my own. I really want to start honing my craft and improving it so I'll probably be taking some courses and/or joining a writing critique group soon.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I guess I'll say mostly for me. There is 'an audience' in my head but whether those are people who would actually read my stuff or someone I made up, I can't say lol. Also I have to have fun writing something otherwise I won't want to do it so its hard to say I'd want to write for someone else unless they had requested something specific from me.

Tagging (gently): @tabswrites @void-botanist @paintedbutton @sarahlizziewrites @oh-no-another-idea @kanobarlowe and anyone else who wants to play!

[autumnsup]

🌊 Slash Ships to Get to Know Me ⚓️

Discovered via open tag (thanks @sliebman10!)

**Rules**: Name at least five (no upper limit) slash (M/M) ships you love. Each from a different fandom.

OK, so this little exercise took longer than I expected, because for me, there are many different categories of ship-love. The list I've compiled below is a reflection of my discovery journey with M/M ships, in order of significance. Some of them I have outgrown but left on the list as a mark of how deep of an impression they left on my psyche. I've only written fic for a few of them, but who knows, maybe others will pop up on my AO3 master list in the future.

Harry Potter - Drarry

This was the OG slash ship for me, although I would come to discover Wolfstar many years later. Both ships are significant for me, but since I can only give one ship per fandom, Drarry it is! The majority of my fic efforts have been in this fandom, in case you couldn’t already tell. 😉

Velvet Goldmine - Arthur Stuart/Curt Wild

This was another OG for me, being one of the first films I watched that centered gay relationships in a meaningful way (in my young adult mind, anyhow). I probably started as a Brian Slade/Curt Wild shipper, but I’ve since come to realize that I identify way more with Arthur/Curt. I also wrote a fic for this ship.

Brokeback Mountain - Jack Twist/Ennis Del Mar

This film quite literally broke my heart when I saw it in the theater as a young adult. So much so that I haven’t been able to watch it since, although I did later read the short story it was based on. I am glad that media representation of non-traumatic gay relationships has improved since then, because man, this one was tragic. Not to mention Heath Ledger dying just a few years later.

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Simon/Bram 

On the flip side, this is the most adorable, positive depiction of young gay love that I’ve read so far. Possibly my favorite YA high school age ship to date, at least as far as the books go (I haven’t watched the TV series yet).

Our Flag Means Death - Stede Bonnet/Ed Teach

This TV show endeared itself to me in so many ways, but I think the most enduring love I have is for these two pirate lads. Can’t wait to see what the next season brings for them!

Hannibal – Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

This ship fucked me up in a few different ways, not least because one of them likes to snack on people. However, the sexual tension is undeniable, and I wish they’d done this ship more justice than they ultimately did in the TV series.

Kill Your Darlings - Lucien Carr/Allen Ginsberg

Speaking of getting fucked up by ships… this one had the added layer of being based on a murderous true story, although I would say the relationship between these two college students was highly embellished, and to simmering effect. I also love that this was the first film project Daniel Radcliffe dived into while finishing up the Potter series, after honing his theater chops in Equus.

Amadeus - Mozart/Salieri

And now speaking of Equus and drama based on historical characters… I don’t think I picked up right away on how intimately linked these two characters were, but I think it was a big reason why I loved this film/play so damned much when I was growing up. The final scene between them is so utterly *chef’s-kiss*, I don’t think I have a choice but to ship them now.

Dark Is Rising series - Will Stanton/Bran Davies

Like Amadeus, this ship snuck up on me, probably because I was quite young when I first read this YA fantasy book series. As an adult, I love the idea of these two besties getting together years later, so much so that I wrote a fic for them.

Call Me By Your Name - Elio/Oliver

I have mixed feelings about this one. The film gutted me, and I tore through the book, but ultimately I feel like it was more the coming-of-age and fleeting-summer-romance angles that got to me than the actual characters, as compellingly portrayed as they were. I’m not holding out for a sequel film, given the controversy surrounding Armie Hammer, but I might eventually read the sequel book.

Heartstopper - Charlie/Nick

Pure, adorable fluff. I don’t have quite as many feels over this one as Simon/Bram, but watching the first season and the development of their romance was sheer delight.

And that's my list for the moment, although I intend to continue expanding it. Open tag for anyone else who wants to hop onboard, but just for the heck of it, I will tag @mangle-my-mind and @silverfactory! ⛵️

[jellyjimmy]

i read this one fic just because it listed jimmy/bobby as a side ship and they quite literally two sentences of SOMEWHAT romantic interaction and im. Hurt. but yknow the main ship was lawrusso so what was i thinking LMAOOOO IM DELUSIONAL!!!!!!

im so starved for og cobra ships lmao one day im gonna spam ao3 will all the fic ideas i have

[tchaikovskym]

Wangxian fic recs

(pt2 here)

Hi so I live for fic recs that's why I've decided to finally make recs myself. So here are the fics I enjoyed the most in no particular order

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground

"Tell Lan Zhan that I'm weeping uncontrollably," Wei Wuxian says to the juniors. "Tell him I'm truly pitiful and he needs to do everything I say until I'm well again."

Lan Congyi is in the middle of carefully holding his eyelids open to check his pupils, but he still obeys, bless him. "Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei would like us to tell you that he can't stop crying and he'd like for you to do everything he says until he's better." There's a moment of silence, and then Lan Congyi says to Wei Wuxian, "Hanguang-Jun says he already does everything you tell him."

--

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji find themselves cursed, unable to see or hear each other. They figure things out anyway.

I loved this one so much!! A nice case fic with lots of love!!!

From the Ashes by mostlynonsense (travelingpsycho)

The war is over and Lan Zhan wants nothing more than a quiet life and a simple job as ship's security. His partner Wei Ying has other ideas about the quiet part, and life is never so simple... (a.k.a. Wangxian In Space)

I'm always wary of space stories because ever since others had gotten me into star wars or voltron I started to think stories about space are plot lacking technical fantasy. But not this fic! Of course it has the vibes of space stories, but it redeemed the whole thing for me. Anyway there is tension and... love!! And don't fear the angst tag, it's not because of bad miscommunication!

most times a wish by impossibletruths

Turns out the HR department may have had a point when they said don't bring your work home with you, and not just in the metaphorical sense. In his defense, it's not like he was trying to get anyone cursed.

I love this fic aaaa! It's modern cultivation, I really liked the setting!! And oh my god they were roommates hehe

side effects may include by slightlytookish

Worry still sat in Wei Wuxian's stomach like a stone, but what Lan Wangji was describing sounded less like the curse was acting up and more like he'd gone and caught a cold.

As if on cue, Lan Wangji sneezed loudly.

On their first night hunt together after Wei Wuxian returns from his travels, Lan Wangji gets hit with a curse that seals his spiritual power. With his defenses down, he soon catches a cold.

Wei Wuxian is ready to look after him. What he's not ready to deal with are Feelings.

Lovely the untamed post-canon fic! Love!!!

if you go chasing rabbits by occultings (microcomets)

Wei Wuxian drops his hand, leans one shoulder into the stunted door frame. “Oh. Okay. So. Why are you here, exactly?”

“The Institute sent me to assist you,” the ridiculously beautiful cardigan owner says, “as your familiar.”

Wei Wuxian laughs as if it’s a joke, although the man’s stony expression makes it clear that any humor gleaned from him is likely unintentional.

“Well, uh, I appreciate your,” Wei Wuxian says, “you know, time, but everything is under control here, actually.”

With impeccable timing, a tea-kettle sound keens from the kitchen, followed by a contained bang.

—

Or: Wei Wuxian is a witch, Lan Wangji is sent to be his familiar. They figure it out.

I loved this one so much! Once again the way magic works in this was so fascinating! And usually I stay away from animal transformation because that can get weird in an uncomfortable way, but not this one!

Bring Out The Sea In Me by Tabi_essentially

Post canon, Wei Wuxian takes Lan Wangji to the ocean because he's a total water baby and he wants to share his joy. Some rando gets pulled out by the rip, WWX is a competent badass, LWJ is massively turned on by this.

A nice careless beach day that turns into not so nice beach day, but it's all good at the end.

and here comes the summertime by ribena

(available only when logged in ao3)

On the first day of Lan Zhan’s first class of senior year, Wei Ying walks into his classroom.

“Oh, good morning, Wei Ying!” says Professor Song cheerfully, because she has betrayed him. She smiles at Wei Ying, because she has betrayed him, and then she gestures at Lan Zhan and says, “This is Lan Zhan, have you two met before?” because she has betrayed him.

“No,” Wei Ying answers, and sticks his hand out at Lan Zhan. “Nice to meet you!”

“The two of you are going to be TA’ing this class together,” Professor Song goes on, like she has not just thrown off Lan Zhan’s entire day and possibly his entire month. “And, of course, helping out with my research together as well, so I hope you two can get along well!”

or; Lan Zhan tries very hard not to be Wei Ying's friend. He does not succeed.

I almost didn't read this because Lan Zhan was too much of an ass to Wei Ying at the beginning, but man I'm glad I stayed and read it.

A Bad of Nibs (Nibs are Bad) by Enk

To his own surprise, Wei Ying doesn't hate quarantine. It's full of Lan Zhan, bunnies, great food, evenings curled up on the couch watching nature documentaries. Wei Ying can't imagine it getting any better. Until it does.

Except Nibs. Nibs are the worst.

And *gasps* they were quarantined together! Really cute and lovely <3 (the nibs part will be explained lol)

Unstrictly Ballroom by Ariaste

Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian brought scandal and shame down upon his head and was thrown out of the competitive ballroom dance circuit. He vanished, never to be heard from again.

Lan Wangji aches when he remembers the way Wei Ying danced--like a laugh given movement and form. He has never stopped searching for him.

Delightful fic! I really don't know anything about competitive dancing but I felt it.

all the silver moons by milkcrates

"Hey," says Wei Ying. It's the softest his voice has gone tonight, but he's close enough for Lan Wangji to– touch him, kiss him– hear him. "Eyes on me."

Wei Ying, thinks Lan Wangji, always.

And he passes out.

-

Lan Wangji gets injured on a night hunt, Wei Wuxian takes care of him, and lots of feelings are had.

What it says on the label, LOTS OF FEELINGS ARE HAD.

For my heart's ground. by orange_crushed

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Love how this fic took the silly concept of planting A Yuan among the radishes and developed something so intricate and beautiful, another type of magic.

Bzzz Bzzz Feel Good by ScarlettStorm

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, and when Wei Ying turns around, Lan Zhan has followed him into the kitchen and is doing something with the empty wine glass that could almost be termed fidgeting. His fingertips tense and relax, and Lan Zhan takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders almost imperceptibly. “Would you like me to cut your hair for you?”

Wei Ying’s brain skids to a halt. Oh. Huh. That would. That would be a hell of a lot easier, wouldn’t it? Lan Zhan would at least be able to see and touch the back of his head at the same time, and that’s half the battle. Even if it’s not a good haircut, it would be something, and it probably wouldn’t end with Wei Ying in tears, and it would end with Wei Ying having shorter hair, which is the only thing he really wants right now.

“Yeah,” he says, a little awed. “If you don’t mind then that would be great, Lan Zhan.” He can almost feel the breeze on his undercut again, spine tingling in anticipation.

Or: Lan Zhan offers to help out with Wei Ying's quarantine growout... with sexy results!

Modern AU and getting together via quarantine forced haircut at home <;3

the best of you by sysrae

When Jin Zixuan calls in a favour, Lan Wangji ends up renting his spare room to Wei Wuxian.

It doesn't go how any of them expected.

Loved this fic so much aaa

Disapproving Rabbit by jadztone

Elementary school teacher Wei Ying talks his idiot coworker Su She out of making a class pet out of a rabbit he found in a park. He's quite taken with the bunny's glares and foot stomps, and so is his son A-Yuan. But any hope that they might make this disapproving rabbit their pet is dashed when they learn the truth about "Bunji" from vet friend Nie Mingjue.

Cute fic with shapeshifter Lan Zhan

Tell Sincerely, Half So Clearly by Sweet_William

Lan Wangji was in love with his roommate, Wei Wuxian. Which was fine. It was fine. He was handling it. Or he was handling it, until they started to get closer, and Wei Wuxian picked up a little habit that seemed tailor-made to push him to his limit until he either confessed or was set on fire by his own blush. Lan Xichen was probably taking bets on which it would end up being.

A short one but a good one! F E E L I N G S

A Curse of a Different Color by nickel710

At home, Lan Wangji steels himself before taking off his shirt to investigate the problem on his arm. He isn’t sure which will be worse— to peel away his sleeve and find something horrific, or find nothing at all out of the ordinary.

Still, the only way to know is to take action, so he shoves his anxious uncertainty down into his golden core to burn away into nothing and unbuttons his shirt. Out come the cuff links, set gently back into their case. Finally, he tugs his arms out of their sleeves and, not yet looking at his arm, puts the shirt into its appropriate color-sorted laundry bin.

At last, he lets his gaze move to the back of his left forearm. His breath catches in his throat. The fingers of his right hand move, shaking just slightly, to skim at the half inch spot about halfway between his elbow and wrist.

Hard to the touch, there is a patch of cool white stone on his skin. More accurately, perhaps, there is a patch of his skin that has transmutated into, if he had to hazard a guess, white jade.

OR

In which Lan Wangji is slowly turning into jade and turns to local curse-breaking expert Wei Wuxian for help.

This was such a good one! Jade of Gusu, you say, huh. I loved the concept of someone being so expressionless that it made them turn to actual jade.

Where You Fell by Sweet_William

Years ago, Lan Wangji was a Senior in high school, readying himself for graduation and the coming years studying at the Gusu Lan Institute of Music. Everything in his life made sense, from his role in his family, to a future as a classical musician. The only thing that didn’t fit was the sudden epiphanies he had about himself brought on by his bothersome and flirtatious classmate, Wei Wuxian. When the growing attraction and friendship was cut short by the other boy’s disappearance, he mourned what could have been, but ultimately had to move on. What he didn’t know was that fate would bring them back together again one day, or the reality of how far apart two lives can diverge, how some can find peace and prosperity, while others can fall farther than he ever imagined.

This is a looooooooooong one and I read it while it was still being written and I had such a great time with it! Hit me in all the right spots. However be wary of 300k words tho!

Vagabond by xantissa

Wei Wuxian comes back to Cloud Recesses after a year of wandering the world, hoping to start a relationship with Lan Zhan. He doesn’t expect to come into the middle of a case of sleeping sickness mysteriously killing people, nor does he expect what follows, putting everything he holds dear on the line once again.

Loved this one so much! There was such a good twist!

decay by antebunny

The Lans agree to take in the DafanWen after Wei Wuxian rescues them from Qiongli Path. Their only condition: that Wei Wuxian lets himself be purified of resentful energy. Lan Wangji thinks this is how he will finally get his Wei Ying back, free from demonic influences. Wei Wuxian thinks this is a fancy way of saying "execution."

Angsty in all the right ways.

in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by varnes

“A-Yuan,” he says, carefully, “did—did you make the flowers grow like this?”

A-Yuan shakes his head in exasperation. “Baba, I said. Doctor Flowers did it.”

“Doctor Flowers,” Lan Zhan repeats, pointing at the tiny plum tree, just to confirm that his son is suggesting a magical tree named Doctor Flowers sprouted overnight and made their tame family project turn into a verdant jungle. A-Yuan nods. “Doctor Flowers,” he confirms. “He’s funny! I like him.”

-

A mysterious garden blooms on Lan Zhan's rooftop. His internet forum pen pal gives great gardening advice but never seems to sleep. The man who works at the florist, who keeps reviving the plants that Lan Zhan can't seem to keep alive, has a beautiful smile.

These things are related.

Mhmm cute little misunderstandings

a garden in your ribcage by puddingcatbeans

Strange magic-induced rings of decay have started appearing all over the old, weary city of Yiling. As the resident witch, Wei Ying is prepared to deal with it on his own with his unorthodox way of witchcraft, but recently a new witch has moved into town.

Between solving the mystery and re-learning this grown-up, softer version of the Lan Zhan he remembers from what feels like a lifetime ago, Wei Ying's days have become a lot more interesting.

(or, soft witches au featuring the wens, plants, food, and the inherent romanticism of having deep mutual respect for the fellow witch you're working together with to save a city.)

I'm a sucker for modern magic and this fic delivered the best! Loved it so much!

the world passes by but for me there is only you by beeswaxing

Lan Zhan finds out about Wei Ying’s core removal from an unlikely source, and it isn’t the only secret the two teenagers have been keeping from each other.

Sentient weapons taken to another level, dare I say.

Lead Me On Through by vesna (mrsronweasley)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

A great take on Idiots In Love like oh my god they were SO DUMB but I loved them anyway

Counterpoint by Magnolias-by-the-Window (JustAnotherAbby), maichan, Tsuminoaru

“It is hard to write a beautiful song. It is harder to write several individually beautiful songs that, when sung simultaneously, sound as a more beautiful polyphonic whole.” (John Rahn)

In music, counterpoint is the relationship between two or more musical lines that are independent melodies, yet harmonically interdependent.

Lan Wangji, the principal cellist in his orchestra, finds himself performing JS Bach’s Art of Fugue with a student string quartet one semester and falls in love with the ways his life intersects with that of the lead violinist.

Wei Wuxian, a composition major, finds himself echoing that sentiment, and their story takes on all the complexity and fascination of the very fugues they are learning.

This was so good! It was like entering music school, muted sounds of someone practicing all over the building. I re-started listening to Tchaikovsky just because Lan Wangji told he liked him.

A Sure Thing by vesna (mrsronweasley)

The message says, I require exclusive commitment as well as flexibility. You may spend the night, but not always. I will be the one to keep the schedule of our meetings.

Wei Ying crunches on a chip thoughtfully, then takes a deep breath and writes back, What do I get in return?

Do not read if you're not okay with sex work etc. I didn't know if that was okay with me, but despite that I started it and it was the right decision though!

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

Another music one and oh it hit in all the right spots. Big warning for suicide, but the author did a great job by describing it. I was worried they would glorify suicide or make Lan Zhan the savior of it all, but they did not. I'm very glad the focus was not on how Wei Ying got there, but the suicide was rather the starting point, and the fic talked about recovery more than downfall.

[avengers-age-of-fanfics]

just for you, honeybee (2/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic)

word count: 2,107

authors note: second part of this ongoing series! i still don't know how many parts this is going to be but i seriously want to finish this lmao. hopefully this will be a series i actually complete! please leave feedback - i truly appreciate it!

warnings: mention of bucky's death, uncontrollable sobbing, character death, a few curse words

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

recap: Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

Sending Steve off was honestly just as painful as it was when Bucky was shipped off. You didn’t want to guilt-trip Steve into staying – you knew how important it was to him to join the army and do something. However, now you were completely alone. You knew you had Becca and you could always write to Bucky and Steve, but it just wasn’t the same.

Both of your boys were gone.

Once Steve had told you about this super-soldier serum experiment, you chewed his ear off for a good 10 minutes. It was brutal, to say the least, and while pacing in your small living room, Steve sat in his seat, hands folded as he waited for you to finish.

This was his final chance to get into the army and while he hated the idea of leaving you, he needed to do something, not only with his life, but with the army. He needed to prove himself. He knew you could take care of yourself – you were independent and a firecracker – there was nothing you couldn’t do. However, while slowly trying to convince himself that you would be okay, Steve was also having a midlife crisis of his own friendship with Bucky. If he found out he left you alone while the both of them were at war, Steve knew Bucky’s reaction wasn’t going to be great.

Once you were done tearing Steve a new one, telling him that you supported him all the way, but you honestly wished he would stay – and possibly called him a dipshit in between all of that – you calmed down. With a quiet voice, you looked to Steve, “can I at least send you off?”

Steve felt his cheeks grow warm and let a smile slip onto his lips, “I would be honored if my biggest fan were there.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, “shut it, you fat-head. C’mon, we gotta get you all dolled up.”

While it was just as painful to see Steve go, you knew he’d be in good hands and wouldn’t do anything too stupid. You had told him sternly, “I want the name of your commanding officer, his commanding officer, and any fat-headed buffoons that are in charge at your camp, okay?”

Steve had shaken his head, “yes mom, whatever you say.” His eyes rolled but he had a smile on his face, “just so you can keep an eye on me?”

You hummed, “that, and to know whose ass I hav’ta kick if anything happens to you, Stevie. And if you see Bucky, you tell him I love him, you hear?”

Steve saluted before he headed towards the platform, “love ya, y/n!”

You had a small smile on your life, “love you too, Rogers. Kill some Nazis for me.”

That interaction was nearly 6 months ago, and every day felt like a new hill you had to climb over. You sent postcards to both Steve and Bucky in hopes that they would respond every time you sent one, but that wasn’t the case. You weren’t mad, nor upset, just lonely. Steve had let you know that the serum worked and he had been reunited with Bucky after taking over a HYDRA base where you learned Buck was captured. God, that letter caused you so much turmoil and anxiety, but Steve had calmed your fears, letting you know that Bucky was okay. You had also recognized his handwriting at the end, “can’t get rid of me that easily, honeybee. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard from them in a couple weeks, and your anxiety was beginning to show. Nothing new had happened, so you truly had no reason to write to them, but you did anyway, just updating them both on your life and how much you missed them. You had seen Captain America’s tours and his posters all over Brooklyn, and you were so proud of your Steve.

But it was weird seeing him so tall and…built.

Tearing your eyes away from another Captain America poster with his boys behind him, you continued your journey to some local shops, stocking up on groceries and possibly a new pair of shoes. Brooklyn was quiet today, which was certainly odd; there was nothing ominous about it, but it was not something anyone there was used to.

Hands skimming through some plums, you picked one that you knew Bucky would love. With a soft smile, you put the fruit in your basket, continuing through the store until you heard quiet whispers:

“Are you sure he’s here? The Captain America?”

“Mary, I told you, I saw him clear as day; no clue where the man was headin’, but he’s here.”

“Is there a tour or somethin’ here in Brooklyn?”

“Mary…I ain’t no mind reader, he could be stoppin’ by before he goes back off to war.”

Your heart nearly exploded out of your chest. Steve was here, back in Brooklyn? Wait – if Steve was here, then Bucky could be, too!

Quickly dropping the items you had in your hands, you ran out of the grocery store as fast as your heels would let you, passing by Grover in such a rush, he couldn’t even say hello. Crossing the street in a hurry, you grabbed your purse tightly and ran up your apartment fire escape stairs. Once you reached your floor, you grabbed your key and opened the door, being met with your Steve Grant Rogers and a very beautiful woman dressed in an army’s uniform.

“I – holy shit, Steve – oh my god,” you stumbled, out of breath as Steve stood up, towering over you, “I thought you were smaller.”

Steve stepped forward, hands out in case you fell or needed a hug, “side effect of that serum I told you about, remember?” The woman behind him gave Steve a look at the mention.

You caught your breath, “give me a hug, you doofus! Oh my gosh, those letters do you no good – nor do the posters!”

The two of you embraced as Steve held you in his arms, careful of his trembling hands, “’used my spare key, hope you don’t mind.”

You ran your hands over his back and his hair, “I get to see my best friend again, I don’t care how you got in here. Now, where’s Jamie, I – I need’ta see him.”

Steve pulled away and laid his hands on your shoulders, “actually, I wanted you to meet someone before… this is uh, Peggy Carter, she’s an agent of that Strategic Scientific Reserve for the serum and one of the best. Peg, this is y/n, the one who wrote to me and…Bucky, all the time.”

Peggy stood up, hand outstretched towards you as you shook hers, “nice to finally meet you, y/n. Steve here talked lots about you.”

You didn’t fail to notice her solemn look and the file of papers tucked underneath her other arm, “it’s, um, nice to meet you too, Agent Carter.”

The three of you stood in silence as Steve guided you to the remaining chair in the living room. With a bite to your lip, you turned towards Peggy, “I hate to be so forward, Agent, but I’ve seen those files before. I know what – what they mean.”

“Y/N,“ Steve began, “please let her –“

You cut Steve off, “Stevie…where is James?” Your eyes immediately started to fill with tears but you held them back for the sake of your own.

Peggy cleared her throat, “Miss L/N, there was a mission that included James Buchanan Barnes and during that mission, a part of the train that the soldiers were riding on exploded. Amongst the fight, we believe Barnes –“

Steve stopped her, “Peg, she – she doesn’t need to know how…”

Tears escaped your eyes as you looked at your best friend, “Stevie… Is he..?”

Steve ran his hands over his face, “he – he was hangin’ onto the side of the train, y/n, and I let him fall. I couldn’t reach him and…”

The rest of Steve’s story fell upon deaf ears. No, not deaf ears, but ones that were ringing. Bucky was dead. He was dead. He fell off a train and was dead. He wasn’t coming home.

Bucky wasn’t coming home to you.

At that revelation, your body began to shake uncontrollably as the tears fell from your eyes, unable to be stopped. You tried to breathe but the pressure on your chest was unbearable. You tried to look at Steve, but your eyes were so blurry, “St-“

No words left your mouth, only the sounds of your sobbing. Steve leaped forward, wrapping his arms around you as you cried, screamed for Bucky, for your Jamie.

"No, no, not James! Steve, please!" you cried, falling onto the floor with Steve as he held you.

Peggy let her own tear slip, overwhelmed with your reaction. Leaving his dog tags, his files, and a medal on your table, she stepped out of your apartment.

Mrs. Betty Davis stepped out of her apartment just as Peggy shut the door, hoping nobody heard your cries and screams for James. Mrs. Davis looked to Peggy, “that boy, Barnes… he never came home?”

Peggy wiped her stray tear and cleared her throat, “I’m afraid not, ma’am. He died an honorable death, taking down a,” she paused, “a Nazi base.”

Mrs. Davis shifted her gaze to the door where she could clearly hear you crying and yelling for Bucky, that he wasn’t dead. She looked down to her welcome mat, “he was a good man, always takin’ care of that girl. His heart beat for her, he turned her world. Wouldn’t surprise anyone if he had a ring lyin’ around. She was just as in love with him as he was her.”

Peggy’s eyes filled up with tears as your neighbor explained you and Bucky’s love for one another, “I had only met him once but he… he seemed genuinely good.”

Mrs. Davis gave a sad smile, “he was. Thank you…for letting me know.” Peggy nodded at her.

Back inside, your tears had stained Steve’s shirt as he held you close, “I know y/n, I – I know. I got you.”

You had stopped screaming for Bucky, but your hands shook as they held onto Steve, fresh tears still running down your cheeks. With a shaky breath, you grasped onto Steve’s shirt, “do – do you think he was in pain?”

Steve let his own tears slip but held his own, “I don’t know y/n, but I’d like to think he wasn’t. He – uh – he told me, before he fell… he told me to tell his honeybee that he loves you so, so much and he – he wanted you to have his tags.”

You pulled away from Steve’s chest, looking at him in slight confusion, “his…tags?” It had then dawned on you:

Bucky wanted you to have his dog tags from the army.

Feeling a new thread of tears about to be shed, your lip quivered but you covered it up, glancing over the room until you saw the file Peggy had sat on the table. With shaky hands, you leaned towards your coffee table – the one that Bucky would rest his feet upon all the time until you smacked them off – and grabbed the file. Opening it up, you immediately saw his army identification photo and his dog tags hanging in the middle of the file.

You shut the flimsy piece of paper before you could cry anymore. Turning to Steve, you noticed his eyes were also red from crying, “what now?”

Steve and you now sat on the floor, backs resting on one of your chairs, “I hav’ta finish what I started, with Johann Schmidt and Zola. Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded your head, wiping your remaining tears on your shirt, “of – of course Steve.”

He let out a shaky breath, “I wish I could take away your pain, but I can’t. Before Buck was shipped off, I promised him I would take care of you, and right now, I need to be here for you. So, if you want to, I can ask Peg if you can come along with us, with me, and once I’m done, we can… we can do whatever you want to do.”

You picked at your nails, anxiety swallowing you whole, “and what if you don’t make it back, either?”

“I will.”

-

Honeybee Taglist:

@clownerlyluv

[fanfoolishness]

Interview with a Fic Writer

Tagged by @novantinuum, thank you!

__

How many works do you have on AO3?

242 works. The actual fuck??? Wow, me. Of course, this does span about 9 years, so I guess that's not that insane?

What’s your total word count on AO3

549,737! But that averages out to only 2271 words per story, haha. You got me! I think I have less than 10 fics that have more than 1 chapter. I love one-shots, what can I say?

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Oh, you want to get into this? All right. We'll get into this:

The X-Files, proto-fandom, ur-fandom, first OTP ever... yeah, 15-year-old me went. WILD. Many horrible Mulder/Scully stories, and some Doggett/Scully and character study stories as well. Mostly not very good, but with occasional flashes of decent writing. Really had a difficult time writing romantic feelings between 30+ year-olds given a) I did not date in high school and b) was 17 and not an emotionally stunted FBI agent.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer - not a huge volume of stories, but definitely some very angsty Spuffy and Spike tales.

Harry Potter - just one published fic (Lupin grieving Sirius), and one with Snape and Harry having a heart to heart I could never quite get right.

Then came the dark times (vet school) where I was exhausted and hard at work for a few years and I thought, horribly, I might have outgrown fandom. Thank god for...

X-Men First Class and the undying love of Charles Xavier and Erik Lensherr! I'd never fallen for a slash ship before but my god I fell hard for this one and wrote my first fandom smut and my first real AU (mutants with zombies) that I never finished.

Then.... let's see...

Quantum Leap drabbles!

Two Avatar the Last Airbender fics!

Agents of SHIELD fics, mostly focused on Coulson and FitzSimmons, and super angsty.

Bioshock Infinite sads (god I love writing the sad bad dad)!

And then the juggernauts of Mass Effect (my longest fic to date with 30 chapters!) and Dragon Age, which were endlessly productive and are still productive given the variety of different protagonists you can create, different choices, and different relationships to canon characters. I'm still working on a Hawke/Varric fic in the back of my mind here.

There's one random Gravity Falls fic (wish I could have got a little more obsessed with it, or gotten into it while it aired) of Stan sads, and one tiny Avengers ficlet of a sad Tony and Peter.

There's one Wheel of Time fic! Dammit I wanted Rand and Tam to reunite so much sooner than they did.

40-odd Steven Universe fics! So many SU fics!

One random Schitt's Creek fic of David and Patrick!

And finally, The Mandalorian, with 47 fics. Phew!!!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. The Invitation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again. A promise is kept.

2. The Outstretched Hand, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin is a man of action, but sometimes, the quiet finds its way in. Din reckons with the aftermath of the events of Chapter 14, the Tragedy. (My very first Mando fic!)

3. Not the Sentimental Type, Steven Universe. Priyanka Maheswaran has long prided herself on keeping her emotions in check. But a mother's love can only grow, and sometimes it expands to people she never anticipated. Like the Universe boy.

4. Translation, The Mandalorian. Din Djarin was a man of few words, but many languages. Some might have thought the Child had no language at all. Din Djarin and the Child grow to understand each other.

5. Full Disclosure, Steven Universe. Just as the world begins to recover from Spinel's attack, Steven starts having nightmares. The more he ignores his fears, the worse they become, until he's left with no other choice but to ask for help. (My thoughts on what would drive Steven Universe Future, and I wasn't far off.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I really try to! Even sometimes years later if I realize I've missed some. I appreciate each and every one, and have definitely made friendships through comments <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh, hell... I'm too lazy to link these but if anyone wants to read them let me know or find them on my AO3!

A Stopped Clock from Bioshock Infinite has Booker DeWitt ravaged by Korsakoff's amnesia from his long-standing alcoholism. Is Columbia real or imagined? Hard to say.

The Viscount's Way shows Varric Tethras having become his parent, and a cruel, hard viscount of Kirkwall.

Songs in the Key of Red shows how Cullen fared under the dark future in Redcliffe in DAI, and they write happy endings, don't they? shows what happened to Varric. Both horribly depressing in different ways!

Two by Two, Hands of Blue shows a not unexpected end to lyrium addiction :( Poor Cullen, he got a lot of angsty developments, didn't he?

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

Never really got into crossovers or AUs. Just... meh for me!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, I don't think so.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Charles/Erik, Shepard/Garrus, Shepard/Liara, Shepard/Tali, a mess of different f/f femShep drabbles, and most of my Dragon Age pairings have gotten sexytimes. On the other hand I helped start the NoRomo Mando tag for the Mandalorian to help find non-pairing Mandalorian content. Depends on the pairing and the fandom, for sure.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank goodness!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so! There used to be a Spanish-language wiki linking to some of my old X-Files stories XD

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but friends and I definitely will beta each others' things to help with sticky points.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

ALL-TIME? Just, why? So many ships I loved in years past turned out to have pretty damn problematic elements I didn't see at the time, so it's hard to say... Mulder/Scully actually has a ton of issues, Buffy/Spike obviously has issues... so maybe Hawke/Varric (except not canon!) or Garrus/Shepard or Brosca/Alistair.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Still need to finish my Hawke/Varric fic for after Adamant! I have 3 chapters written that I haven't posted. Maybe posting them will help inspire me....

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and POV writing from different characters; I feel fantastic writing Steven and Greg, though totally at sea trying to write from Connie's POV, randomly. But I think my dialogue and emotional beats are what people tend to tune in for. When I do write romance, it's usually very sweet and silly and pulled from life. I also love writing nature scenes and settings to help establish mood. Mood and emotion and catharsis are my bread and butter, and I like my poetic prose.

What are your writing weaknesses?

What the hell is a long, well-thought-out plot? Like what even is that???? My longest fic with 30 chapters is basically "Shepard has PTSD and hangs out with her crew. They have some funerals." THAT'S IT. How the heck people actually come up with plot that ties into the lore of a fandom I genuinely have no idea and it's the biggest thing that's held me back from finishing original work. I can come up with a setting and characters and then trying to make them do stuff that's more than just talking to other characters and deepening their relationships with them... how the fuck???

I also definitely have 10-20 words that I am in constant danger of reusing like every other paragraph, LOL!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't speak any other languages so I always avoid it as much as possible. I've seen people describe sign differently in fics and picked one way to depict it that made sense to me for Grogu, but that's about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files, of course!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Towards Another Day, the tale of how Cullen went from being a templar in Kirkwall to commander of the Inquisition, is definitely up there.

Reverberations is one of my rare multi-chaptered fics and one of my favorite for the catharsis at the end. It makes me tear up every time. 5 times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they find the Light.

Either a world for the birds (Steven develops a closer relationship with his Uncle Andy, learning birdwatching along the way) or on the subject of rocks (Steven and Jasper finally reach a peace) might take the prize for favorite SU fic.

__

Tagging (if you’re super bored and would like a fun thing to do) fellow writers:

@lastwordbeforetheend, @runrundoyourstuff, @honestlyhufflepuff, @art3mys, and @fake-starwars-fan if you would like to play!

[jenivi7]

writing tag game!

Thank you @clyde-side and @bdeblueyes for the tag!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

22 plus a small handful on ff.net that I still intend to move over to AO3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

30,445!  I’m surprised it’s that much considering how short most of those stories are. (And it’s a little deceptive since it doesn’t include the 80k monstrosity that is Ryou and the Thief. That one’s probably going to stay on ff.net though.)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Those Things He Keeps for Himself (Total agreement. Personally I think this is the best thing I’ve written so far.)

Human (Was at #1 until very recently! I attribute this entirely to the story being on @shinayashipper’s Rivalshipping Rec List. Thank you Red! <3 )

Black (From when I wandered into Homestuck fanfic for a brief time! I’m still stupid proud of this one though.)

Ghosts, Goths and Other Anxieties (original short story) (I swear I’ll get back to posting the big bang version soon)

Finality (This one’s so old but I guess people still like their tendershipping! I mean, same~)

4. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do try to respond to everything! I so appreciate when other authors respond to me and do my best to return that good good energy. Also I genuinely like chatting with people (especially about something I wrote lol) even if I get overwhelmed sometimes and can be slow ^^; 

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

This is a tough one cause when I start a story, it’s usually with the goal of giving the characters a happy end but it’s probably Coffee and Cigarettes. It was for a pairings competition where the random pairing was Mana/TK Bakura and I gave them a weird little break in the middle of canon where they both know what’s about to happen and it just came out sad.  NO WAIT I’M WRONG. Lol I just gave my story list another look and it’s definitely Crazy for You! That was an insane asylum AU that’s ABOUT everything going straight to shit.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Oh goodness, almost all of them! I love a happy ending. Like, the story doesn’t have to be all fluff, it can have an impossible looking problem or be about two people who just don’t go well together but I love a good, satisfying resolution. Most recent happy ending is No Betting, just a bit of adorable, domestic, peachshipping fluff. Favorite happy end is probably A Million Missed Chances, Mai/Valon. I feel like Mai is a challenging character to give a happy ending to. She’s just stubborn like that <3

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

So, I haven’t written a crossover yet by myself but @miss-moberg and I will often throw around ideas for ones where we will use YGO characters or parts of the world building or magic system to fix things we don’t like in other canons. Right now we have a RP that’s a BNHA/YGO crossover where… oh, spoilers for BNHA: instead of going crazy and faking his own death, Toya grabs both his brothers and just fucking leaves. They run away to Domino, get picked up by Ryou and Akeifa (TK Bakura) and it quickly becomes the found family story I didn’t know I needed. We do some wild things blending the two canons. Domino is this little pocket where shadow magic keeps the hero and villain nonsense out and the citizens are pretty ok with it. Yugi and Atem are the city’s guardians. Ryou and Akeifa are not allowed to use shadow magic though they have access to it. I think Ryou and Yugi had proper quirks that they sacrificed to the shadows at some point, each for something different thing that they wanted or needed. Oh! We have quirks being derived from shadow magic at some point in the distant past and the shadows are always happy to take a quirk back to fulfill a wish or desire. They’re tricky though and usually corrupting. Very classic fairytale where it’s a thing you don’t want to make a deal with. Seto is quirkless and basically runs the city behind the scenes. He can’t deny the existence of heroes and villains but still refuses to believe in magic. This always gives Atem a headache when they have to coordinate to protect the city. Which is often.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A couple criticisms but no outright hate I don’t think. Or if I have it was so long ago I don’t remember. I was on ff.net at the worst times too and somehow all the hate just passed me by.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I love smut so much but I rarely write it. For stories I just usually end up with one or two erotic sentences. RPs are the exceptions to that though and are where all the good stuff happens. >.>

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope. Haven’t had one stolen, haven’t had one taken down. I’ve stayed small enough to fly under the radar for both things luckily enough!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I wish! Man that would be amazing <3

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Ryou and the Thief is a cleaned up version of @miss-moberg and my very first RP. (And the only RP of ours to ever hit an actual ending.)

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Puzzle with Gemshipping very close behind though I ship many, many things.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Phoenix. It was one of my very first fanfics started almost 15 years ago and while I’d love to finish everything, that one’s just not going to happen. It’s been too long and I’ve grown way too much as a writer to go back to it now.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think it’s dialogue. And maybe the ability to be amusing. Not funny-funny but like, lightly humorous when setting scenes or winding up to something.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

RUN ON SENTENCES. Sometimes they get away from me a bit XD

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Haaaa, actually when I first started writing fanfic I would throw in Japanese phrases and honorifics and looking back, it’s pretty cringe. BUT I can appreciate it as it was originally intended: learning and practicing a new language. If it makes sense for the character or situation though it’s really cute, like in Allargando by Slaycinder where Atem uses Arabic endearments for Seto. (Have I gushed about that fic on my blog yet? It’s so good.) Ancient Egyptian is the exception to everything I just said. I absolutely LOVE when someone takes a stab at putting ancient Egyptian in their fic. I go a little feral for it and it was the hardest but the most fulfilling thing about writing Ryou and the Thief was doing all the research write actual AE dialogue for Akeifa early in the fic.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh. I’ve done a handful of things for other fandoms but Ygo is the one I keep coming back to and definitely the one I’ve written the vast majority for.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh no this is hard! They’re all my babies and I love them! Probably my favorites have been listed in previous questions already. Ryou and the Thief because of the sheer amount of work that went into it and the fact that we ran the boys through a whole ass adventure, Coffee and Cigarettes because it’s such a fun, quirky little thing with a great atmosphere and Those Things He Keeps For Himself because I feel like I was able to really capture the idea in my head effectively and there’s some great imagery in it.

TAGGING:  Oh my god this took me so long to finally sit down and complete that probably everyone I would tag has done it already!  So not tagging anyone this time but please do it if it seems fun!

[elizabeethan]

Find Strength in Pain, Find Strength in Me 2/3

After defeating the wraith, Emma Swan is dragged through the portal they sent it through and suddenly finds herself in the land in which she should have grown up. Lost, overwhelmed, and desperate to get home to her son, she accepts help from the gruesome pirate Captain Hook— and his accomplice. 

A Season 2 AU in which Emma ends up the the Enchanted Forest alone, and she and Hook (try to) work together to get to the Land Without Magic.

Hi! here is part 2! thank you to @the-darkdragonfly for being an incredible beta and to @donteattheappleshook for forcing me to write being instrumental in the creation of this fic.

Rated T (for now) (I have no idea if that’ll change) (bit fat maybe)

~4800 words

Read on Ao3

Read my other stuff

Tagging: @courtorderedcake​ @kmomof4​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @laschatzi​ @emelizabeth88​ @lfh1226-linda​ @kday426​ @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story​ @captain-emmajones​ @gingerpolyglot​ @ebcaver​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @tiganasummertree​ @gingerchangeling​ @jrob64​ @onceratheart18​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​ @swampmedusa​ @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy​ @love-with-you-i-have-everything​  @shireness-says​ @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious​ @ouatpost​ @daxx04​​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @donteattheappleshook​ @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay​​

Despite her circumstances, Emma does not feel like a prisoner of fearsome pirate Captain Hook. In fact, she’s been made to feel quite comfortable in his quarters, and after he was sure that their interests aligned and that they were useful to one another, he told her she could have free reign of the ship to do as she pleased until they made landfall. 

 “No one on this vessel will harm you, love,” he assured her when she became bored of exploring his quarters, and she believed him immediately. 

 Maybe she was bothering him as he peered over his logs and maps and she tinkered with the exotic items he’s collected— perhaps that’s why he encouraged her to explore. Either way, she didn’t have to be told twice, and found out that the men aboard were surprisingly pleasant as well. Mr. Smee was a shy and timid man, but friendly and caring all the same. The rest of the crew wore snarls when they looked at her, but broke down easily the moment she began casual conversation with them. 

 Maybe it’s because they know how instrumental she is in their Captain getting his revenge. 

 As she leans against the rail of the upper deck after a day of learning about ships and pirating, she watches as the sun sets behind them, painting the sky an intoxicating shade of pink that fades into purple and black. Hook is at the wheel, navigating through the ocean that almost claimed her, and despite her situation, she feels safe. If she had to be dragged from the sea and rescued by pirates, she supposes she lucked out with the Jolly Roger.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it, love?” he asks her, and she turns to face him so she can respond. 

 “It’s beautiful.” 

 “Never been aboard a ship before, I take it?” he calls from the wheel, giving her a smirk at the look of wonderment on her face. 

 “Nope, never had much of a need to,” she responds as casually as she can.  

 “Or an opportunity?” 

 She laughs, a bit awkwardly, and says, “I guess not. It’s not something I've really thought about.”

 “I see,” he concedes when she gets closer to him, leaning against the rail just across from the wheel he commands. “So, tell me about your boy.” 

 She sighs wistfully and looks up to the sky, wondering what he could be up to, what he’s thinking, if he’s worried about her. “His name is Henry. He’s almost eleven, but he acts like he’s 32. Super smart, very passionate about the things and people he cares about.” 

 “Sounds like you,” he chuckles.

 “How would you know?” she asks with incredulity. 

 “You're an open book. And you did hold a knife to my throat yesterday. I can only attribute that to your passion and assume that you want to get home quite badly.” 

 “Of course I do,” she rolls her eyes, stepping closer to him until she’s leaning against the helm and glaring at him. “I’m his mother,” she insists. 

 He nods and says, “of course. But I sense that there’s more to the story.”

 Caught off guard, she answers, “well, just… he’s been through a lot. Especially in the past year.”

 “I see. And you don’t wish to contribute to his turmoil.” She shrugs, looking away from his gaze. “You don’t wish to contribute... further?”

 Her breathing falters at his accuracy and she says, “let’s just say I wasn’t always there for him in the way I should’ve been. He deserves better and I need to get home to make sure I can give him that.” 

 He nods thoughtfully, pursing his lips and looking ahead towards the horizon again, as if anything before them has changed in the last day and a half. “I understand, love.” It’s as if he shakes himself out of a trance when he says, “try your hand at the wheel?” 

 She raises her brows and gives him a disbelieving look. “After I just told you I’ve never even been on a ship?”

 “It’s not difficult to learn,” he tells her as he lifts his hand towards her, gently guiding her behind the wheel. “Besides, the Jolly is enchanted. You can’t hurt her.” 

 She snorts softly, shaking her head as he leads her and places her hand upon a handle, letting his fingers linger on the top of her hand for a moment too long. “How do you manage to get your ship enchanted?” she asks amorously once his fingers leave her skin, taking with them a feeling of gentle warmth.  

 “You know the right enchantress,” he flirts back, his mouth just a bit too close to her ear. She can almost feel his voice rumbling through his chest as it presses to her back, keeping her warm against the whipping winds of the sea. “There,” he says softly. “You're sailing.” 

 She laughs lightly, unaware of how exciting she actually found this until he put it to words. Seriously, she’s captaining a pirate ship! Henry is gonna be so excited when she tells him this story. “I guess I am,” she says happily. 

 “I think she likes you,” he says in a way that she knows isn’t a joke, despite how ridiculous it sounds.

 “Why, because she isn’t sinking?” 

 “Aye, she doesn’t always take kindly to strangers.”

 “And you let me do this?!”

 He laughs, but doesn’t respond with words, as if he knows he’s been caught. “I had a feeling.”

 They’re quiet for a moment, and while he’d dropped her hand and is letting her steer on her own, she notes that he doesn't back up and keeps her back pressed gently to him. “We’re going to get you home to him, love,” he murmurs into her ear, so softly that she can barely hear him over the sound of the wind. “I know-- well, I would wager that you have some experience with abandonment and… Well, I’m not going to let your boy go through that.” 

 She draws her brows together in thought, considering how perceptive he is, how well he seems to know her after such a short time. She turns around to face him, seeing just how close he truly is to her, and cocks her head. He reaches behind her to take control of the wheel, bringing himself even closer. “How do you know?” she asks. 

 His smile is small, sad. “I’m no stranger to a lost soul.” 

 “Are you accusing me of being a lost soul?” she asks in a tone as soft as his own. 

 “Perhaps I'm simply trying to tell you that I understand.” 

 With a hum, she says, “what are you saying, Captain? Are we kindred spirits?” 

 He cracks a brilliant smile, his eyes crinkling and glimmering in the moonlight, shining like the stars above them. “Aye, I suppose we are.”

 She’s so calm with him. It feels wrong to let herself relax into his hold, to let herself enjoy the feeling of his chest vibrating against hers as he speaks. She should be focusing on getting home, on getting to Henry and protecting him from Regina. Not fantasizing about a pirate she thought was fictional. 

 But then he leans closer to her, his hook on the wheel and his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, and she doesn't even try to stop herself from pressing onto her toes and capturing his lips in a slow yet chaste kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss her back, and she feels warmth flitting through her and settling in the deepest depths of her center until he’s tangling his fingers in her hair and getting his rings caught in the strands.

 She breathes out a soft giggle at the sharp tug, pulling from him and attempting to detangle herself from him. “Apologies, my darling,” he practically purrs against her mouth. 

 “It’s okay,” she whispers, planting her forehead against his and trying to catch her breath. They had only kissed for a second, but their close proximity and the raw, ardent nature of his observations weigh heavily between them and she feels something. 

 He kisses her lips again, one, twice, three times, before saying, “time for dinner.” 

 She groans and rolls her eyes. “Not more of that tack shit is it?” 

 He laughs heartily and says, “tonight you’ll get some more jerked meat, darling. Perhaps some rum to chase it down.” 

 “I’d love some rum.” 

 With a smirk, he steps back slightly and reaches his hand into his coat, taking out a flask and passing it to her, but not before removing the cork with his teeth and popping it onto the ground. She takes it happily from him, smirking back and stuffing the feeling of warmth that traces through her as deeply as she can. 

 ~~~~

 The ship is enchanted in several ways, she realizes. Hook told her that it’s impossible to damage her, but she’s discovered other quirks as well. For one, it’s never cold. Not only is his cabin toasty warm, as if it’s well insulated, but  the rest of the ship is comfortable as well. For another, although it rained last night and the deck should have been slick, it was completely dry. And now, music is playing, and she can’t for the life of her find the source. 

 The wind is whipping but the lanterns stay lit, maybe another side effect of the enchantment, and the crew lounges happily on the deck, enjoying their rum and their opportunity to relax. Hook leans against the ladder that leads to the helm, and she can’t help but stare through her lashes at his confident posture as he laughs at the crewmen dancing wildly. 

 They shout boisterously as a slower, more romantic song replaces the shanties, laughing and hollering at their Captain until he stands and holds up his hands in defeat, shaking his head and smiling. She isn’t sure what they’re all talking about, but she’s excited to see him do what he seems so adamant to avoid. 

 That is, until he comes up to her and holds out his hand, offering her a small, shy smile in replacement of the smirk she was expecting. “Dance with me, Swan?” 

 “Dance with you?” she asks in outrage. “I can’t dance!” 

 “Aye, another thing you haven’t had the opportunity to learn, I’m sure, but I happen to be a brilliant teacher.” 

 “You’re ridiculous,” she accuses, although she can’t deny the grin splitting her face that matches his. “Are you saying you know how to dance to this?”

 He takes her hand with a salacious smirk and practically drags her to the middle of the deck, placing his own on her hip. “It’s called a waltz,” he tells her, “and there’s only one rule.” She feels a heat radiating off of herself that’s different from anything she’s felt before, as if a light is glowing from her skin and hair as he spins her. “Pick a partner who knows what they’re doing.” 

 She’s breathless, and every fear and worry she's had since she went through that damn portal has evaporated out of her pores and into the salty sea air. He holds her closer, likely forgoing the proper form they were practicing, and she melts into him. 

 “You’re glowing, darling,” he murmurs, his lips grazing against her ear lobe in a way that makes her shiver. She looks down at her hands and sees the soft golden glow he must be referring to and gasps, noting it fading. “Relax, love, it’s very fitting. I’m assuming this hasn’t ever happened in the Land Without Magic.”

 “No,” she says thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway until after—” She cuts herself off, careful not to reveal the truth; that Gold brought magic back to Storybrooke after the curse broke. Then she stops to think… is this magic?

 “After what?” he interrupts her thoughts.

 She clears her throat. “Uh, after I broke the curse.” 

 “The one the Queen cast? You broke it?” he asks, suddenly serious rather than warm and flirtatious. She wonders how he would’ve known about that, but figures he must’ve been a child when it was originally cast; maybe he remembers. 

 “Yeah.” She feels guilty lying to him. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should just continue to savor the feeling of his hand running along her back as he pulls her closer. As much as she’s been enjoying their time together, she reminds herself that she needs him to get home, and she’ll need to do whatever it takes for their plan to take fruition. 

 ~~~~

 The next afternoon, Emma lounges in the Captain’s bed and reads one of the many diaries recounting his adventures. After they danced the night away, they came back to his room and she expressed interest in hearing about his journeys between kisses and soft touches. He stood and retrieved a leather bound book, handing it to her and telling her that she’s always welcome to his stories, and that he’ll happily tell her whatever she wants to know. She read until she fell asleep, with him sleeping soundly on the floor beside her, protectively positioned between her and the door.

 She knows she’s behaving ridiculously. She can’t possibly let whatever is going on between them continue once they make landfall. But it isn’t like she can accomplish anything while they’re out at sea, so she lets herself indulge in his soft lips and deep eyes and profound declarations in the meantime, making a promise to herself to let him go once they land. 

 She hears a commotion above deck and starts a bit, putting the book down on the bed and standing. Can pirates be attacked by other pirates? Certainly that’s a thing. She straightens the black linen shirt as she stands, the one Hook let her borrow while her clothes are being washed, tucking it more neatly into her jeans, and makes her way towards the door, pressing her ear to the wood and listening closely for trouble. She hears rustling and shouting, and her heart begins to race. It pounds harder in her chest when she hears a distinct set of footsteps making its way towards the door she’s pressed to. 

 When she hears the footsteps grow too close for comfort, she turns and presses her back to the door in hopes of blocking out an intruder. They try to push it open and grunt in surprise when it only moves a bit, and she plants her feet more firmly into the floor. Her panic subsides, though, when she hears a cocky chuckle. “Swan?” he calls through the door. “Are you playing hard to get?” 

 She breathes a sigh of relief when she hears his voice, moving from the door and carefully opening it just a crack to peek her head out. “What’s going on?” 

 He smirks, of course, and says, “We’re docking, love. What's the matter?” 

 “I thought… I dont know, I thought something was wrong.” 

 He shakes his head and squeezes by her to enter the room, shutting the door behind him and touching her arm gently. “Nothing’s wrong, darling. All is going to plan.” She doesn't miss the way his eyes trail down her body, slowly and obviously taking in the sight of her.

 “Stop looking at me like that,” she insists, pulling the shirt closed some more and hugging her body with her arms. 

 “I’m simply admiring the way my shirt fits you, Swan,” he smirks. “You wear it much better than I do.” 

 “Whatever,” she rolls her eyes. “What’s the plan?” 

 He chuckles and moves towards the table, stopping to pick up the book she was reading and putting it away. “The crew is docking us now, and then we’ll go to find the compass and then meet up with our colleague. Shouldn't be long before you're home.” 

 She nods, taking a calming breath at the anticipation of finally getting home. He’s told her the plan: they need to find a compass from a giant’s lair, but to do that, they first need to climb a beanstalk. She isn't sure what that will entail, and she isn't really excited to find out, but she’ll do what she has to to get back to her son. 

 Her shirt hasn’t dried yet. Hook packs it in his satchel so that she doesn’t leave it behind, but now she’s stuck wearing his flowy blouse with her jacket over top of it. He keeps checking her out, and she isn't sure how she feels about it. She ignores the blush and the heat that floods through her. 

 The port they landed at is fairly run down and not very heavily populated, which she thinks is a good thing-- she would stick out like a sore thumb in her jeans and leather jacket, but she sure as hell isn't hiking through a forest in one of those damn dresses. 

 They trek for hours, Hook filling the time with more stories that leave her with a sense of wanderlust. She grew up an orphan, traveling from foster home to foster home, and she always longed for a place to settle down. She’s never found herself wishing to travel the world, because she never had a home to come back to, but hearing his stories change things for her. 

 He’s an incredible storyteller. Sometimes it’s clear that he embellishes some events to make them more dramatic, but everything he tells her is the truth despite the fact that it sounds so unbelievable. It seems he’s spent years pillaging and plundering, and while she certainly can't condone all of his actions, it also seems like he’s spent much of his time enjoying the different realms he’s explored. He tells her so many stories that she isn't sure how he could fit all of these adventures into one lifetime. 

 “Can I ask you something?” she finally asks when she can make sense of his life no longer. 

 “Perhaps,” he smirks. 

 She carries on despite his playfulness. “How old are you?” 

 “Physically? Or literally?” 

 She snorts, bumping her shoulder against his at his joke, but falters when she realizes he isn't joking. She stares up at him, pausing her steps for a moment, and says, “uh, literally? I guess?” 

 “Around 250.” 

 “What?” she chokes. 

 He hums. “Aye, I’ve recently counted and I believe I’ve been on this plane for about 250 years.” 

 She’s speechless, blinking at him but unable to make her voice work. Shaking her head, she asks, “how?” 

 “Well, after my run in with the Dark One, I spent some time in Neverland. You see, the Dark One is immortal, so I needed to stay alive long enough to find a way to get my revenge. Once I found it, I came back for a few years, and then the most recent curse essentially paused time, so I didn't age again. So, I estimate around 250 years.”

 With her mouth still agape, she says, “I thought you were, like… 30.” 

 “Why thank you,” he smirks. “Physically, I’m around 36, I believe, so I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

 “So when the curse was cast, you were… the same age you are now?”

 “Is that not how it worked in the Land Without Magic? I was under the impression that time would stand still.” 

 She narrows her eyes, wondering how he heard such details about the curse, and managed to avoid it, but chalking it up to his piracy. “No, that’s how it worked.” 

 “And how old are you, then?” 

 “28,” she says without thinking, though perhaps she should have kept that a secret if she doesn’t want him to know that she’s the Savior. She can see the gears in his head turning, although he says nothing else and seeks no further clarification. 

 They spend the remainder of the trip talking about Neverland, which is apparently much different from how Barrie described. He tells her of the Lost Boys and how terrifying they were, even to a fearsome and relentless crew of pirates. While they walk, they encounter some branches in the path and he cuts them down, and she notices a tattoo on his inner forearm that catches her attention. 

 “Who’s Milah?” she asks, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the forest. 

 He stills but doesnt turn back towards her when he asks, “pardon?” 

 “Milah, on the tattoo?” 

 His shoulders fall and he clears his throat. “Someone from long ago.” 

 “Where is she?” 

 “She’s gone.” His tone is dismissive. Pained. 

 She thinks of the first day, once she was awake, when she explored his cabin in secret before she trusted him and found a sketch of a stunning woman with thick, curly hair and soft, kind eyes. “Gold,” she says as the pieces fall into place, and he turns to face her. “Rumplestiltskin. He took more than your hand from you, didn’t he?” she asks softly. “That’s why you want to kill him.” 

 She hasn’t seen him look this broken in the few days she’s known him. The timeline starts to put itself together in her mind and she realizes he’s spent almost 220 years lying in wait to avenge this woman’s death. “You're quite perceptive,” he finally says. 

 The guilt is eating away at her again. How can she go on with him, convinced he has a chance to kill the Dark One, when she knows how hurt he is? What kind of a person is she becoming? 

 One who will do anything for her son, she reminds herself. 

 They’re silent for the rest of the trek. 

 ~~~~

 She nearly slipped off the damn beanstalk. She wasn’t listening to him, his cocky attitude back in full force and irritating the hell out of her, so she grabbed a loose branch and it snapped. She plummeted, thought for certain she was going to die, until it stopped suddenly and he had his hook in the collar of her jacket. 

 “You should listen to your Captain,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes, but internally she knows he’s right. He pulls her up close to him, pressing her front against the beanstalk and his body to her back. “Alright?” he asks, his lips brushing her ear.

 “I’m fine,” she responds, and she takes a shaky breath. 

 “Almost to the top, love,” he assures her, breaking away once she feels her shakiness subsiding. “Try that one,” he suggests, gesturing for a different handhold.

 When they reach the top, he pulls out his flask and she scoffs at his need for a drink, but then realizes she could use some herself. Only he isn’t using it for a drink, he’s taking her hand in his and saying, “let me help.” 

 “What are you--” she starts, and then he’s pouring the rum over a cut on her hand and she’s shouting at the sting. “What the hell!”

 “A bloody waste, I know. But I'll not have you losing a hand to infection.” 

 “Hook,” she starts, but he cuts her off. 

 “Haven't you learned to listen to your Captain, love?”

 She gives him an incredulous look, but when he raises his brows in quick succession, she can't help but to grin at him and roll her eyes. She’s about to say something snarky and brush him off, but then he’s wrapping her cut hand in a scarf and biting down on it so he can tighten it one-handed, not breaking eye contact with her. “Fuck,” she breathes at the sight, and then blushes fiercely. 

 He smirks and chuckles deeply, leaning in close to her and stealing a quick kiss before he places his hook on the small of her back and leads her to the castle's entrance. 

 “The last of the giants died ages ago, so we should be safe, save for any other intruders. All we have to do is find the compass and we’re homeward bound.”

 She finds it difficult to admit to herself how much fun she has as they dig through the treasure room, searching for the compass and joking around with each other as they do. Hook pilfers a few pieces of gold, but she can’t exactly blame him; he is a pirate, after all. He finds a small broach, a golden rose, and presents it to her with flair and grandeur, bowing deeply as he holds it out to her and kissing her hand when she accepts it. “You're ridiculous,” she accuses through a laugh. 

 They finally find the compass after what feels like hours, but the time passes painlessly. He helps her up onto the platform it sits on, humming amorously when her ass comes into his view, and she kicks his shoulder lightly with a laugh. 

 It’s as they’re wandering through the castle, slowly making their way back towards the beanstalk, when he says, “I must say, Swan, I’m looking forward to seeing where you spent the last 28 years,” and she feels that guilt bubbling up again. He isn’t excited to get to Storybrooke to kill Gold, he’s looking forward to seeing where she’s from. It makes her think of why he agreed to help her in the first place. It makes her think of his lost love, of Milah, and she feels as if she’s taking away his chance of avenging her. 

 “Hook,” she says hesitantly before they leave the treasure room. “There's something you need to know.” 

 “What’s that, love?” he asks gently, as if she can do no wrong, and the guilt is flooding her now. 

 She swallows thickly and takes a breath before admitting, “I know that you want to come with me to Storybrooke to kill Gold because you think there's no magic there, but… that isn't true.” 

 He stills, turning to face her fully and drawing his brows close together pensively, angrily. “There’s magic? In the Land Without Magic?” 

 She nods nervously. “After the curse broke, he brought magic back.”

 He scoffs, shaking his head and turning to pace in agitation. “Damn you, Regina,” he says under his breath. “And you knew, all this time?” 

 Her ears practically perk up, her heart starting to race again. “Did you say Regina?” 

 “Aye,” he practically spits. “The witch who said there would be no magic. Bloody charlatan.” 

 “What do you mean?” she asks, horrified to hear him talking about someone he shouldn't even know. 

 “I mean I was promised a land without magic in which to slay the bloody crocodile, and here you are telling me that isn’t the case. How am I meant to get my revenge now? Cora should've seen this coming. She bloody well knows her better than most.” 

 “Who the hell is Cora?” she asks firmly, backing away from him. “I thought that was the daughter of the lady you're working with?” 

 He runs his hand along his face and shakes his head. “I said Cora is the woman we’re working with. She’s looking for her daughter in your Storybrooke. Regina.” 

 She feels her face going white, her blood running cold and her eyes bugging out of her head. “Cora is… Regina’s mother? You know Regina?” 

 “Aye, bloody fraud has already betrayed me once,” he huffs, obviously still irritated. “I’m sorry, love, I don't mean to take out my frustrations on you, I just-- what are you doing?” 

 He notices her take the small dagger from the sheath he gave her earlier, pointing it at him and she holds the compass firmly in her other hand. “Don’t come any closer.” 

 “Swan? What are you doing?” She reaches behind her to tuck the compass in her back pocket; her sheriff’s pistol may have been damaged beyond repair by the ocean waves, but the cuffs are still fully functional. She takes in her surroundings quickly and then rushes to him, locking his wrist to the cage beside him without thinking her actions through and backing away. “What are you doing?!”

 “Hook, I…” she sighs. “I can’t--” 

 “Emma, look at me,” he insists. “Have I told you a lie?” 

 “You didn't tell me the truth; you’re working with Regina’s mother!”

 “How was I to know that was a problem for you?! I told you who we’re working with.”

 “Not really! Regina is dangerous, she wants to take Henry away from me! Do you know how bad it would be if her mother was there to help her?!” 

 “I will help you, Emma. You won't have to go through this alone; you won't abandon Henry like you were abandoned. Let me go and we can figure this out.” 

 “If Regina wanted me dead, Cora probably does too.” 

 “Wanted you dead?” he murmurs in thought. He cocks his head, confused, and ponders her claim. “Who are you?” 

 She shakes her head. “I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you.” 

 “Swan,” he calls after her as she turns around. “Swan!” She feels her eyes burning as she goes towards the beanstalk, but doesn’t allow the tears to fall.

~~~~

~~~~

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Being A Star (4)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Count: 2071

Warnings: Language as Steve would say

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter! Let me know what you think or if you want to be added to the tag for future chapters!

Becoming A Stark || Chapter One Being A Stark|| Masterlist

Life finally feels normal again. At least as much as it can for missing five years in the middle of your life, having a new sister, and living in a new house. But your dad is home which is the biggest thing. Dr. Cho is talking about having to send him to a specialist to deal with the after effects on his arm, but for now she’s let him come home with the sling holding the dead weight of his arm. The marks freak Morgan out so Tony has been wearing a lot of flannels over his arm so she doesn’t have to see it. You’re not supposed to know, but you overheard your parents talking about how Dr. Cho thinks most of your dad’s arm will probably need to be cut off. She hadn’t done it in hopes of saving it, but her messages about your dad’s case with the specialist said there is little hope that the arm can be saved. Especially since it’s causing your dad pain, which you didn’t know. You try to imagine your dad without his arm, but it just doesn’t seem right.

A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be asleep kiddo? You’ve got the second first day of ninth grade tomorrow?” 

“In which I will be the only one starting the year since everyone else started last week.” You say with a roll of your eyes as Tony walks over to sit on the edge of your bed.

“Even so, you’re not one to stay up late on a school night unless you have homework and seeing as I know you already finished it…” He trails off. “Wanna talk about it?” You slide towards the left side of your bed to make room and Tony moves to sit next to you. His good arm wraps around your shoulder and you lean into the smell of him, cinnamon from his cologne and mint from his aftershave. The only scent missing was the smell of him being in the lab, but until he was cleared to work on things like his cars and other science projects, he was restricted from going into the garage.

“I, uh, heard you and Mom talking the other night.” You say softly. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were going back to your room after using the bathroom and had heard them from the top of the stairs.

“Heard us? Talking about?” Tony asks, not following what you’re talking about.

“Your arm. How they might cut it off.”

“Ah.”

“How you’re in pain.” You mutter the words. 

“I wasn’t keeping that from you, if you’re up late feeling bad about overhearing it.” You look up at him. “Your mom and I were going to talk to you about it after meeting with the specialist. We didn’t want you to be worrying if you didn’t need to be.”

“I’m not up because I felt bad.” Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you pull at some of the skin there. “I don’t like that you’re in pain.”

“I feel the same way when you hurt kiddo. But that’s what this appointment is about. They think the stones did something to the tissue and nerves. They think it’s basically corrosive. So by taking the arm away, it would hopefully stop the pain.” Your eyebrows fall together as you think about this.

“But how would that affect everything else?”

“Well, I will have to use a prosthetic. And I’ll have to relearn how to do some stuff. But if it gets rid of the pain it will be worth it. Maybe Bucky will teach me all about having a detachable arm.”

“That guy who was bad but now isn’t, that’s a friend of Steve’s?” You ask, having heard the name but never having met the guy.

“That’s the one. He was brainwashed for a little bit into being a bad guy. But he’s all better now. I wouldn’t risk myself being around him if he wasn’t. And he did help us fight Thanos.” He smiles at you. “I think that makes him a good guy.”

“Fuck Thanos.” You mutter.

“Summed up my feelings entirely.” Tony says as his hand rubs your shoulder slightly.

“How do you just jump back into life after being gone for five years?” You ask the other question that has been simmering in your mind for the past few days. “Like my life just stopped? How do I get that back?”

“You seem to be doing a good job at getting it back so far. Hanging out with Mom and Morgan and your favorite old man.” He teases.

“Dad, I’m serious.” You lean into him as you let the words leave your lips. “The past couple weeks have… they felt like they are a part of my new life. But by going back to school, I’m having to be old me all over again? How do I just slip back into that?”

“New life?”

“My old life didn’t include a little sister or waiting for my dad to come home from being injured. It was a whole different thing. I’m in a new house, I haven’t had to do anything that seems like things I would have done before I just poofed.” You didn’t want to admit it, but you had been avoiding Peter partially for that reason. Peter was pre Blip. Morgan was post Blip. How do you make them go together? 

“What things are you nervous about having to deal with?” 

“I…. I’m scared it will all go away again.” You admit. Every day when you wake up, you feel like crying that you’re still there. 

“Being scared is a normal reaction. We all get scared sometimes.”

“You’re Iron Man. You’re saying you get scared? You literally save the world.”

“I lost you. I lost half the universe. I wake up at night and think that you’re still gone. I’m scared I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. There’s stuff from before the Blip that still causes me to have panic attacks. I get scared easily kiddo. I’m far from perfect at dealing with things.”

“And how do you deal with all of it?”

“I lean on Pepper. I hug you and Morgan as close as humanly possible. I tried therapy once, but should find a different doctor. I tinker. I focus on the things I can control.” 

“So I should just keep going even if I’m scared?” Tony nods slowly. 

“Is this fear why I haven’t seen a certain Spider-boy around?” You bite the inside of your cheek and don’t answer. “I may not like the idea of you dating people for selfish reasons, but I know he makes you happy. So maybe lean on him instead of pushing him away? Just a suggestion.”

“I…” You trail off, not knowing if you should voice the other thought going through your mind.

“You…?”

“Have you ever thought about how the world would look without you in it?”

“Sure, in a dark moment. Why do you ask?” Tony’s concerned but wants to see where you’re going with this.

“I left, and you guys just moved on. So what’s the point of slipping back into what I did pre Blip if everyone was fine without me?” You ask, not looking at your dad. You find you can’t meet his eyes after saying it.

“We continued living. But we didn’t move on.” Tony wishes he had two working arms so he could pull you into a tight hug and not let go. 

“You had a whole other kid while I was gone. How is that not moving on?”

“Morgan was on her way before you Blipped.” You look up at your dad with all the confusion you’re feeling painted across your features. “If the Blip had happened seven weeks later, you would have Blipped knowing that you had a sibling on the way. The last thing we wanted to do after losing you, was try to replace you. And Morgan could never replace you.” He pulls you in closer with his good arm. “I came back from being lost in space with Nebula, thinking I was going to have to tell you I lost your boyfriend. Then I took my first step off the ship and my eyes were searching for you and Pep- hoping I didn’t lose my family. But the moment I saw Pepper’s eyes, I knew it. She didn’t even have to say it. And when I knew you were gone, my whole world fell apart. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. I was sure my lungs were being crushed. I couldn’t breathe. I had a panic attack in front of the remaining Avengers because we lost, but more importantly I lost you, my kid. It took a week before I could even talk to anyone besides Pep. Nearly a month before I could manage to talk about anything Avenger related. It hurt too much. I broke the one promise I swore I wouldn’t. I swore I would keep you safe and I hadn’t done that. I was across the galaxy as you faded into dust. So I promise you Y/N, we never moved on. We just did what we could to make losing you not hurt so much. We were far from fine without you.”

“I didn’t know.” You whisper, not knowing how much pain your dad had gone through. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it should be me for not stopping the Blip from happening.”

“That’s not your fault though. You may be an Avenger, but the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders.” You pause before saying. “If I’m not allowed to apologize, then neither are you.”

“You’re making demands now?”

“Mmmhmm. You perfected time travel to bring me back. And you brought my boyfriend back, willingly nonetheless. So I say there’s nothing to apologize for. No apologizing.”

“Ok, no apologizing.” Tony leans against your head. Tony decides to bring up a more positive subject. “Morgan loves that you tell her actual bedtime stories.”

“Actual bedtime stories? What have you been telling her?”

“Once upon a time there was a Morguna who went to bed, the end.”

“That’s the worst story I’ve ever heard. No wonder she likes my stories better.” You shrug. “They’re not that special. Just stories I would have made up when I was her age.”

“Vivid imagination?” You nod.

“Still have one. It’s why I love reading. Imagining far off places and new things to see. It’s amazing.” You lean into your dad’s shoulder as you explain.

“Ever thought about writing your own?”

“Story?”

“Book.”

“I’ve… contemplated it before. But never actually given it a try. What if I have nothing to say?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“Wow, it’s cuddle time and I wasn’t invited?” Pepper stands barefoot in your doorway.

“There’s still room.” You pat the bed on the other side of you. Pepper smiles and comes to sit down next to you.

“What are we contemplating instead of sleeping?”

“Dad’s trying to convince me I should try to write a book.”

“You could write a book that is solely Morgan’s bedtime stories and I know you would have at least one reader.” Pepper agrees. 

“That’s just made up… shit.” You shrug off your parents’ suggestions. “It’s not a real story.”

“It’s a real story to Morgan. The person who decides the story is worth it is the person who wants to read it. But if you want to do something completely different, that’s ok too. You have plenty of time to figure out what to do in life.” Pepper says. “But, it is getting late and you do have to get up early to drive into the city.”

“You were the ones that chose to move out of NYC proper. So really it’s your fault.” You joke.

“True, but either way, you need to get some sleep so you don’t fall asleep in class.” Tony kisses your cheek. Pepper stands up, but then leans over to give you one more hug and a kiss. “Get some sleep kiddo. Tomorrow is going to be fine.”

“Whatever you say Dad.” Tony pulls your quilt around you and tucks it in tight. “Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart.”

“Love you kiddo.”

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strike wont let me tag

[asunshinepuff]

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

🧜🏻‍♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter two! Please please please give a like and follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @epithymiahua​ ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!

She’s incredible and deserves so much credit for working on this alongside me cause she works so hard. And I feel horrible that she isn’t getting the credit deserves. Especially since this chapter includes her own oc! All credit for his creation goes to her because she’s worked so hard to create him!

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.

The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. I will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!

Also! Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so that you don’t miss a new chapter!

Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy! 🧜🏻‍♀️

.

Chapter 2: The Dragon’s Pearl

The man and the young boy made their way to the far side of the docks, the sun was beginning to make it’s descent to the sea. The water rippled below the hull of ships, anchors being lowered or weighing anchors to begin their sails back at sea. Some of the townspeople were making their trek home. Quinn and Remus approach the ship that Remus had seen earlier in the day from a distance. 

But up close, it was truly a sight to behold. The masts that were open, were a starking white, the wooden haul a rich brown mahogany, spotless with not a barnacle in sight. The railings were painted gold like the sun, freshly polished and not a splinter out of place. The bow had a golden nautical figurehead of a creature that Remus had never seen before. With a long serpentine body fully covered in scales, and large horns protruding from its head. A white spherical object clutched in one of its clawed hands. It’s jaws open as if to strike.

Remus’ eyes widened as he gazed upon the ship he had studied earlier. Glancing at Quinn, he couldn’t help but ask, “How has no one tried to steal this ship?”

Quinn chuckles, “Oh they’ve tried, but never got very far. My brother, the captain, is a force of his own that is not to be reckoned with.” He says with a smile. At Remus’ growing concerned face he quickly adds on, “Don’t worry. He might seem a bit… well, rather cold at first. To put it lightly. But he’s not a bad man.”

“How far have they gotten?”

Quinn muses for a moment in silence, as they make their way up the loading dock to the ship’s deck, thinking of the many times pirates - including the Blacks - have tried to take over the ship. “Never past deck.” He smiles at the crewmen preparing to sail as he stands in the middle of all their work. “Anyone seen the Captain?” 

“Last we saw him, he threw Ethan overboard.” A sailor responded courtly. He was dressed in black pants and boots, a white shirt, and a gold sash around his waist. 

Quinn looks to the sailor in bewilderment, “Again? What is that, the fifth time now?”

“Seventh actually, Ethan told the joke about the donkey.” 

“I told him not to do that.” He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. “Never learns does he?”

A young man with short curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, tanned skin was soaked to the bone in water as he marched back up to the ship. He looks to Quinn.   

“Don’t look at me like that, I told you not to tell that joke. You’ve brought this upon yourself.” The young man rubs his necks as he walks below deck to change. Quinn shakes his head before he turns to Remus as he claps his hands and rubs them together. “It’s harmless really.” The man groans in pain, as if to contradict Quinn. “Eh, mostly.” 

Remus watches the man in pain walk below the deck with widened eyes. He looks back to Quinn and the sailor, “Does that happen often?”

Quinn tilts his head back and forth with his arms crossed, “I’d like to tell you no, to ease you, but that’d be a lie. It happens on more than one occasion, though less often than you’d think.” He chuckles under his breath, “Now come along. I think it’s time to introduce you.” He then turns behind him and just smiles. “Hello, Min-Jun.”

Remus turns to follow, and nearly jumps in surprise. Lo and behold, said Captain was standing right behind them. The Captain was a tall young Asian man, around the age of twenty-one, with an expressionless face, had short straight black hair with part bangs, fair skin, and dark eyes. He was dressed in a well-tailored black coat with a dark forest green vest on top of a white shirt, black pants, and boots. At his hip was a wide sword with a dark forest green sheath with gold accents. 

“Quinn.” He says in a deep monotone. His posture was as straight at a board, his hand at his side, his left hand on the hilt of his sword. His gaze lowers to the boy beside Quinn, narrowing a fraction before he looks to Quinn. “You were at the Taverns again weren’t you?”  

“I will neither confirm nor deny.” 

“So that’s a yes.” A brow rises ever so slightly before it’s gone in the blink of an eye. The captain turned his head slightly to look over the boy. “Apologies for any idiotic schemes my First mate may have dragged you into. He is not the brightest, but his heart is in the right place. Usually. He has the unfortunate ailment of defying gravity. I once caught him upside down on the masts so there’s that.”

“And who put me there Min-Jun? Cause it certainly wasn’t me. I may do many schemes you might consider idiotic-”

“Because they are.”  His head leans to look at Quinn in a bored expression but his eyes held amusement. 

Quinn raises his eyebrows, giving a pointed look before continuing, “But I wouldn’t do that out of my own volition!’

The captain simply looks away, fully content to ignore the auburn-haired man. “I am Min-Jun Hua. The crew calls me Captain Hua. What is your name?” He looks back towards Remus. 

Remus was silent during the whole exchange, internally studying the interaction closely. He was uncertain whether the Captain and First Mate actually got along or if they hated each other, however, he caught the amusement in his eyes within their banter. They did get along. It was as if they were teasing each other. Maybe they actually did consider each other siblings. He noted with his own amusement now that his initial caution has about this new Captain has diminished. They’re so very different. How did they become companions?

“My name is Remus Lupin, Captain,” Remus replies with a curt nod, as he was trying to contain his nerves and seem content in the situation. He was uncertain if it was effective or not, but he seemed to take comfort in the fact that Quinn was so relaxed with the man.

Captain Hua says nothing for a long while as he stares silently at Remus. Completely motionless for what seemed to Remus, eternity, before the Asian finally looked like he took a breath. The Captain turned his gaze to his First mate. “He’ll be under your care for the meantime. Have him bathed, dressed, and fed before you send him to bed for the night. Tomorrow he can begin.” The captain says nothing more before he looks to Remus once again. “Welcome aboard the Dragon’s Pearl.” He gives a curt nod to Remus before he walks away to resume his duties. 

Remus lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before looking to Quinn in surprise, “Why didn’t he ask any questions? Wouldn’t he want to know more about me before deciding to let me aboard?”

Quinn merely shakes his head before looking to Remus, “The Captain is an incredibly loyal soul, he respects privacy. If you wish to talk about your past then he will listen, and he will never mention it again without your approval.” He says with a smile. “He cares, deeply. He’d rather have you upon this ship then let you be on your own. That’s what happened to Ethan as well, he’s actually not that much older than you, Remus. He’s turning seventeen next moon.” Looking to the ship, he runs a hand upon the railing gently before continuing. “This old vessel has seen many stray boys board her, and she’s seen many of them become family. The captain only asks for loyalty, truthfulness, bravery, and devotion to family.” 

Remus smiles, comforted by his words. There was always more than meets the eye. He looks around the ship in surprise, “This ship looks brand new. How long has it been sailing waters?”

“Quite a long time. Practically hundreds of years. It’s been passed down through the generations of his family.” 

“That’s incredible.”

“It is.” Quinn remarks with a nod in agreement, before looking back to the boy, “Now, we’ll be embarking at dusk. You want to watch the ship be put to sea?”

The two got situated at a good viewing point for the departure after taking care of duties below deck. It felt rather strange, yet refreshing to Remus to dawn a new set of clothes. Yet his scarf stayed tied around his waist, as usual, at least he could take some part of familiarity with him. The Captain began to call out orders to the crew before he took his place behind the keel, the crew lowered the masts, catching the wind. The colors were hanged, where Remus could see the emblem on the masts and flag of the ship. A gold circle and in the center was the same creature that Remus had seen on the bow of the ship, but from the side. Only without the sphere. 

What sort of creature was that? Remus couldn’t help but wonder in curiosity as he watched the emblem upon the masts and flag of the ship.

“It’s a dragon. An eastern dragon.” Quinn says in reply, with a smirk upon his face as he looked to the boy. It seems Remus accidentally spoke aloud, and for once, he was alright with that. 

A loud shout echoed from a grumbling man who was making his way to The Dragon’s Pearl loading dock. Remus flinched as he recognized the voice of the drunken man from earlier, while Quinn moved defensively to shield the fourteen-year-old from sight. 

 “I know he’s up there! Where is he?!” The slurred words from the drunk captain all but screech out. The hooked nose man stumbled his way on board, his eyes locked onto the auburn-haired man who stood defensively in front of the former deck boy. “You!” 

“Me,” Quinn answered easily with a faint smirk. 

“Where’s that deck boy!?” The drunk captain practically roared into Quinn’s face. To which Quinn’s nose simply twitched at the smell of alcohol that reeked off the man. 

“Behind me, though I doubt you’d be able to grab him.” 

“Where’s your captin’, I ought to have a word with him. You goin’ ‘round stealin’ deck boys, ought to be ‘shamed of yeself.” The man nearly tumbled over.   

“Not stealing when he willingly came aboard. If anyone’s to be ashamed it’s you for your actions.” He retorts with a roll of his eyes then simply tilts his head, “You sure you want to have a word with my captain? You can hardly hold a proper conversation in your state. He won’t take too kindly to that factor.” 

“I wan’ see yer captin!” 

Quinn doesn’t respond for a moment, only looks behind the drunken captain with a bored look upon his face. “Turn around mate.”

“Wha’?” The drunk captain frowns with his mouth hanging open before he turns, nearly falling down when he sees someone standing behind him. Remus couldn’t help but hold a snicker back from behind Quinn as the drunk man flinched at the mere sight of the tall and sober captain. 

Captain Hua looked down at the drunk captain with an emotionless stare but his eyes held a look that screamed ‘How dare you bring your drunken arse onto my pristine and clean ship.’

“You wished to speak to me?” Was the leveled voice of Captain Hua. 

“A-aye.”

“You are not qualified to speak to me.”

The drunk captain staggered at the impassive tone. His face grew red. “Ye think you’re bet’er than me?” 

“To ask that question offends me.” Captain Hua raised a brow. 

“Where’s ye captin’s hat?”

“I don’t need one, I do not need to parade my status on my own ship, nor to ensure the respect of my own crew. They know who I am.” The Captain looked to his First mate. “Please escort this, man back to his ship.” Calling the drunk captain a man was incredibly respectful. Remus thought, truly Captain Hua had a class that was, unfortunately, being wasted upon this drunkard. But then again, Captain Hua didn’t acknowledge him as a Captain either. 

“That’d be Captain Barclay ta ye.” He shrugs the hand that grips his arm.

“No. I think the Captain is right. Mr. Barclay.” Quinn contradicts with a smile, “Now, allow me to escort you back to your ship. I’m sure you embark soon.”

“Not without that boy.” The drunk captain glared at the boy.

Captain Hua looked at the drunkard, then at the boy. “First Mate Sandoval, please step aside.” The drunk captain’s eyes widen at the title.

Quinn ignores the surprised look upon the drunkard���s face and instead looks to Remus. Giving him a small smile of comfort and a look that says ‘Trust us. You’ll be alright.’ Then looks back to his Captain, and with a nod, he steps aside. 

Captain Hua looked to the drunk man. “You can take this child to your ship, if you answer one question. If you answer correctly, you’re free to take him. If not,” His dark eyes narrowed, his left hand gripped the hilt of his sword, this sword was red compared to the first one Remus had seen. It was sheathed in a red case with gold accents. A strong pulse emitted from the sword as the pulse rippled through the ship. The ropes freed themselves from their knots, moving very much like serpents slithering up trees. 

The crew has stopped working and watched openly. “I will throw you overboard.”  

The drunk man didn’t notice the pulse of gold energy, nor did he notice the ropes begin to move on their own. Remus’ young eyes watched in amazement at Captain Hua, who’s sheer presence became overpowering, his aura seeming to infect the ship. Stupidly, the drunkard agreed. 

“What is the child’s name?”

“...” The drunkard frowned, Remus could practically see the mental strain on the man’s face. His brain was too far gone from the rum. “... Bernard.” 

Captain Hua did not look impressed. Not at all. He simply raised a brow before he looked to Remus to correct the man’s answer. 

Remus simply smiles and shakes his head. “Wrong.”

What happened next happened rather quickly, it was really a blur to be completely honest. Captain Hua wordlessly grabbed the drunkard by the collar of his shirt, lifted him off the ground and proceeded to walk, not in any hurry, effortlessly to the side of the ship, and threw the man overboard with ease. Remus’ jaw dropped a bit. 

“Why didn’t you just use the ropes?” Remus couldn’t help but ask in curiosity. 

Captain Hua merely gazed down at the swimming crewmembers from the drunk captain’s ship who threw themselves overboard to ensure the man didn’t drown. “And deprive myself of the pleasure of doing it myself? Never.” Captain Hua’s stoic face gave a smirk in delight. “I would never disgrace The Dragon’s Pearl to so much as even touch that drunk. It was painful to watch an alcoholic parade around with a captain’s hat and acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum.”  

“... How did you know he didn’t know my name?” 

Captain Hua looked down at Remus. “I have two answers. One; most people who make port hardly ever ask for a deck-boys name.” The captain began to walk away from the railing, Remus followed. “Two; even if by the off chance he did know your name, he would not have the sentimentality, nor the intellectual capacity to remember your name, especially while drunk.” He turned to look at Remus. “I would not have made that wager had I believed for a second he would be able to say your name. Not when he preferred to think with an organ that he did not have instead of his brain. Not to mention your name is unusual. I am not one to gamble. Especially with someone’s life.” 

Remus pauses for a moment taking in the Captain’s words, before asking the question he was truly reluctant to hear. “... What if he did say my name?”

Captain Hua looked at Remus for a long time before he looked away to the setting sun. “Then he would have won.” Captain Hua looked back to Remus. “It may seem cruel, but I will not lie to you, Remus. I do not break my word.” Captain Hua looked to the sunset once more. “I would have just challenged him to a duel if that was the case. The man couldn’t even walk straight let alone hold a sword.” Without another word, he walked away.  

Remus stood silently as he watched the Captain walk away, and looked out to the sunset once he was out of view. There was no relief of tension like he had initially anticipated when he first heard the words of the wager, as if he already knew he was safe. How exactly he determined that conclusion, he had no clue. But in his heart, he knew that was the case. 

He watched the shoreline of the port town he had always known, grow smaller and smaller with every glide of the ship, until it vanished from view- it was the start of a new life. A new chapter. Like each morning rise and evening set of the sun upon the sea.

.

Tag List: (Let me know if you wish to be added!)

@whataboutmyfries

[just-the-hiddles]

Writer’s Spotlight | Wrathkitty

Hello my peeps, today I am featuring that talent and wonder that is @wrathkitty​. The person who reintroduced me to my love of Q.  If you know, you know.  I share her crush on Luke Skywalker as a teenager (for me specifically Return of the Jedi Luke in the black.)

Check out their works here on Ao3 and FF.net

What are other names you want people to call you?

Kat.

How long have you been writing fic?

Since I was in middle school, but I didn't start posting anything online until 2013.

What fandoms and/or ships do you write?

MCU Loki, Star Trek: TNG, Portal, and one random Star Wars fic about Kylo Ren and a passive aggressive barista 

How did you get started writing fic?

I had a crush on Luke Skywalker when I was 13. It was total author insert, wish fulfillment Mary Sue tripe. We all have to start somewhere, I guess. 

Story Recommendations

Which of your stories are your favorite?

You’ve Got Sucker’s Luck and Hello, My Dear.

Which story are you most proud of ?

Sucker’s Luck

Which of your stories do you think is the most underrated?

Sucker’s Luck.  There was a request to insert a laugh-crying emoji.  I will grant that request. 😂

Someone is new to read your stories, which story/stories should the read first?

Probably my kid Loki/Thor fic, just because it's funny. (This would be To My Brother Thor, Whom Slept With)

Which story did you do the most research for?

My Portal story - Come Downstairs and Say Hello. I spent many, many hours reading walkthroughs and poring over transcripts to make everything as close to canon as possible.

Which story was the easiest to write?

So far? My ST: TNG story! No idea why it's been so easy (relatively speaking), but I'm not arguing, either. (This would be Hello, My Dear).

The Writing Process

What is your favorite part of writing?

Writing dialogue, and editing. (QueryShark.com, which is run by an IRL literary agent, has been a huge resource for me re: writing techniques and dos/don'ts -- I have a weird love for picking my own writing apart, and some of her suggestions just gave me even more ammunition on ways to punch things up.)

What is your least favorite part?

Plot development!!!!!!!

Describe your style in 1 to 2 sentences.

Heavy on character development, sarcasm and angst, with a healthy dose of humor to balance out the feeeeeeeeeeeels.

Who are some of your writing idols and/or influences?

Robin McKinley, Tamora Pierce

What programs do you use to write and/or edit?

MS Word and Word Mobile

.Are you a plotter or a pantser?

More of a pantser, but writing an actual outline was the thing that has stopped SL from going completely off the rails...

Do you write RPF?

No.

Who is your favorite character to write and why?

Nick Fury. OMG. He has done it all, seen it all, and simultaneously DGAF while giving all the fucks.

What do you think are your writing strengths?

Character development, and writing dialogue.

What do you struggle with?

Plot. I'm terrible at it. The medication I take for depression has the side effect of inhibiting creativity and slows the writing process down something awful. The other thing I REALLY suck at is not getting hung up emotionally over lack of reader engagement. But no amount of psychotropic medication will cure that!

Favorite Trope?

Canon character falling for feisty OC, apparently!

Favorite word to use?

How bout favorite word to MIS-use - "alight." I have to go back and fix some egregious misuses of it in SL!

What is the best piece of writing advice you have heard?

Not actual advice but a lesson learned from my 9th grade English teacher, who taught me the value in letting someone slaughter my work. This got me out of the ditch years later when I had written myself into a corner 3/4 of the way through my Portal fic -- a reader left a comment complaining I was delving into crackfic territory. Once I got out of my snit, I realized they were right, reworked the chapter completely, and was able to finish the story. Chell and Wheatley would probably still be stuck in a game of Jeopardy! if it hadn't been for that one review. 

What would you say to a new fanfic writer starting out?

Ao3 is a much easier platform to use than FF.net, and tumblr is a great way to get your work out there, if that's something you're interested in doing. Also, use tags.

What is a random bit of research you have not managed to work into a fic yet?

I want to involve the Very Large Array (in NM) into one of my stories at some point.

What is your favorite random detail from one of your stories?

From by "To My Brother, Thor" story, where Loki and Thor are playing martyr and Loki is burning Thor at the stake -- it's based on my mom and aunt doing the same thing when they were kids, like all good little Catholic children do...

Any goals or WIPs you want to share?

My long term goal is to turn SL into an original work. Fingers crossed, I just need to finish the damn thing first! 

This or That

fluff AND angst

smut AND fluff

reader insert AND OC

one shot or series

canon divergent or AU

Pepsi or Coke (hot chocolate)

coffee or tea

sweet or savory

Check them out peeps!!.  Until next week!!

[laur-rants]

Fic Update: Blood Wolf

Chapter 3

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Daud/The Outsider. yes, I made that executive decision.

Rated: Mature to Explicit, Strong Violence and  Gore Ahead!!

Synopsis: Daud-Centric Prequel to Wolfbann. The story centers on how Daud turned, and his subsequent marking by the outsider and his formulation of the Whalers. Notes: There probably won’t be nsfw content in this fic, but it WILL be… violent. I want to play with my own boundaries of written violence and also Daud’s start wasn’t nearly as clean as Corvo’s. Their contrast on dealing with the werewolf transformation is one of the things I want to really explore, and Daud gets very close to falling off the wagon.

CHAPTER TAGS: Daud transforms. It’s horrible and wonderful all at the same time. There is a mild description of consuming a person, but I wouldn’t consider it cannibalism. Necessarily. Werewolves sometimes... eat people. AO3 link First :: Previous :: Next

----------------------------------------------------

Dunwall, Gristol

Month of Clans -- 1820

Daud set up a meeting with the contract creator the next night. It gave him time to prepare, to consider his options and perhaps, to look a little less frightful for the person he wished to work with. The address given on the contract was nondescript; a small general practitioner's office, tucked away in Draper's Ward and identified by the universal dual-snake staff on the window. Daud chose to drop by after hours, of course; no need for others to see the owner conversing with an assassin. He had planted an earlier note to say he would be visiting unconventionally but the individual inside the office room still jumped when suddenly a whaler mask was knocking gently at the upstairs office window.

It was a small man with a round face and large eyebrows that greeted Daud, glasses getting pushed up as he quickly came over, unlatching the terrace doors and allowing the assassin entry. Daud slipped in, silent and stealthy despite the tremble in his hands and shoulders. He hadn't expected his client to be a doctor and quietly hoped the man wouldn't pay close enough attention to ask questions.

"Thank you for finally getting back to me on this contract," the man -- Misha Romanov, if Daud remembered the contract properly -- nervously said, looking over Daud. His eyes trailed from the mask and hood to the black clothes to the whaler blade at his side. He swallowed, clearly intimidated, walking around the office to physically put distance between the two of them. Daud tilted his head, clicking his tongue.

"You've never hired a hitman before," Daud remarked, posing it more as an annoyed observation than a question. It was clear; from the man's unease to the amount of coin offered, he was a novice when it came to dealing with and understanding the job he was asking for. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all; but Daud was here, and it would be ludicrous to turn around now. Might as well make the best of it.

"This is my first time, yes," Misha replied, choosing to busy himself with one of his displayed medical instruments instead of looking Daud in the glassy eye. "I have never had a need before. I try more to save lives, rather than take them, you see." He wrung his hands, then offered a small smile. "But now... my brothers are dead and I have no idea what happened to them, or their dogs. They were the only family I had left… I didn't know where else to turn."

"Misha Romanov then, right?" The doctor nodded, confirming what he knew. "What happened to your brothers-- before they disappeared?" Daud asked, his voice muffled behind the thick mask. Misha, emboldened by the question, answered as clinically as possible, recounting how his brothers had gotten into a dog fighting business over the last few years, completely sucked in, throwing money into dogs and gambling over Fink's wagers. It had been an obsession -- one that ultimately, they didn't return from. Naturally, Misha feared the worst and blamed Eustace and Howard Fink for their disappearance.

"I saw the one brother, Eustace, sulking near the cafe one morning soon after Adrian and Mikhail didn't return at their usual time," Misha supplied, "and that's when I knew I'd be powerless to get justice unless I hired an assassin. So I posted my contract and waited. And waited. I had almost given up on anyone taking the job, until you contacted me. Your interest in this hit is greatly appreciated."

Daud held up a frustrated hand. "Please do not offer appreciation, not until my work is done. I'm not doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I'm doing it because it's personal, and the pay is so low only someone like me would take the contract anyway. If anyone is the lucky party in this deal, trust me, it's you."

Misha blinked. "Oh? You… you know Fink?" He then blanched, his face going terrified. "You didn't work for him in the past, did you?"

"No, nothing like that," Daud said, taking a too-ragged breath. He could feel the sweat trickling down his neck, across his wounds-- even that simple contact burned. "I actually was contracted to kill Eustace's brother, Howard. The same day your brothers most likely perished, I almost died, too. Lady Luck herself is the only reason I'm still alive; the Fink brothers were into some deep, disgusting shit."

Misha blinked, adjusting his glasses before giving Daud a more thorough look-over. Daud stiffened under the gaze, suddenly self-consciousness, and he tried to still the tremor of his limbs.

"Are you well now? You appear in pain, or feverish."

Of course this guy could tell. Daud cursed him for being such an astute doctor.

"You're not being paid enough as a doctor if you can tell that just from looking me over," Daud sneered, hiding the rasp of his voice. This only furrowed the man's brow further, his tone growing serious.

"If you need me to offer medical assistance before the mission, I'd be more than willing to--"

"I'm here for a job, doctor. Not a diagnosis."

"Right, of course, of course… But, if you're still in a state when the job is over, consider it part of the payment. I can easily add it to the contract between us, mister…?"

Void-- "Daud. Just Daud." He said, annoyed. "No Lord, no mister, no honorifics at all. I'm an assassin, not a noble."

"Sorry, just trying to be polite. And you know my name, of course, but I can supply a business card if needed--"

"No. All I need is half payment up front, and as many details on Fink that you can provide." Misha nodded; he went to a dusty safe in the corner, opened it, and pulled out a small purse of 100 silver. Daud noticed very few valuables in the safe and wondered just how lucrative being a general practitioner was in the Draper's Ward. Or, perhaps, his gambling brothers had preyed on his meager earnings too, an addiction that drained the doctor and ultimately tore apart their family. He felt the urge to ask, to reach out and inquire, but he managed to keep his curiosity to himself. It wasn't important to the job, and it wasn't Daud's business to know how wealthy his clients were, or where they got the coin they paid him with.

Misha returned with the coin and Daud carefully pocketed it. Misha also handed over papers: they contained a few addresses, including one not too far from here. Daud frowned under the mask, his breath hissing out of the respirator.

"That's his home and work addresses," Misha explained. "I tend to see him at this cafe, Swinney's, down off Cashmere Ave in the mornings. I pass it on my way to the clinic in the mornings."

"That's quite a ways from here," Daud muttered, before he could stop himself. Misha just shrugged.

"The commute is long on foot, but it's what I can afford. Most nights I just stay here. Cheaper that way."

Daud said nothing. Just crumpled the paper in his hand before folding it up and tucking it away, next to his contract.

"Do not be surprised if this takes some time. Assassination is not easy, nor is it quick in the way you expect it is. I will seek you out once the hit is complete, understood?"

Misha nodded, and if he had any further questions, he didn't ask them. "Whatever you need to do, I suppose."

"That's why they call it 'wet work,' Romanov," Daud told him, a hint of dark humor coloring his words. Daud then took his departure, leaving Misha and the office as silently as he had entered.

------

It should be simple. An easy set up: an easy take down. Silent, efficient, no trace to let anyone ask after. Eustace Fink was not well guarded, not spatially aware, and he was incredibly routine. Textbook, really.

Instead, it was shaping up to be one of the hardest stake outs of Daud's career.

He had spent a few days setting up the kill, pulling himself through the motions. He cached any necessary food, plenty of coin, and a few changes of clothes. He knew where he needed to be and when. He had all of his equipment restocked from the black market right outside of the Distillery District, where nobody asked twice about his mask or his stance. It was all ready to go.

But of course it couldn't be that simple. Nothing of importance ever was.

It was the fourth night of his stakeout when it happened. As soon as he settled in to make the hit finally happen, his fever rolled him over like a riptide.

It came on quickly, the nausea. He hadn't expected it; for the last week his fever had been low-grade, barely noticeable. He had, effectively, learned to ignore it. But it came roaring back up as if it was the day he spent crawling out of the sewer. One second, he was relaxing, waiting for Fink to be alone in his own home; the next he was lurching, tossing the whaler mask up and over his head just in time to empty the contents of his stomach over the side of the roof.

It stank so bad he reeled, dry heaving again. He managed to keep the rest of it down, the sweat drenching his forehead as he wiped his mouth with the back of a clammy glove. He growled in frustration, his arms barely holding his weight, but he spent the extra moments to breathe, evening out his heartbeat and emotions. He looked over to the estate; Fink was alone. Daud felt his stomach flip again, making itself known. He swallowed back the sensation; it was now or never.

Sickness be damned, he needed to get this hit off.

He stood and his feet were surprisingly steady for the vertigo he was experiencing. Not that he was worried; Daud had stalked and successfully killed someone drunk before. It was a dare, one that Rulfio didn't think he would go through with, but he was even younger and cockier back then. A little head sickness was nothing compared to that job, but the thought of Rulfio sobered him enough to keep focused on the task at hand. He lithely jumped from the roof, heading to the Draper's Ward residence, as silent as a street cat.

He kept a bead on Fink even as he felt the sweat gather on his forehead again; something in his chest felt like it wanted to burst, and Daud vaguely hoped it wasn't his heart. He slipped on a roof tile, steadied himself, then listened intently, hearing Eustace's voice float up.

"I should be fine, but I can't help but think that I should be more worried about what happened that night. I mean-- I woke up and Howard was dead and so was that huge black magic brute. There was another person, dead in the corner, and so many unlucky bodies that didn't make it out alive… there will be questions soon. So many questions. How do they not smell it there under the Pub? Maybe the rats ate the bodies… how convenient if so. Nothing to investigate, nothing to convict. If the City Watch ever got wind of this..."

It took Daud a bit of processing to suss out if Eustace was speaking to someone else in the room, but no; the beat and cadence was reminiscent of someone recording an audiograph. If he listened closely enough, nearing the balcony door, he could hear the whirr of the machine, the click of the hole punch. His breathing hitched and his pulse thundered in his ear.

His prey was so, deliciously, tantalizingly, close. Daud stayed his hand, listening closely.

The machine stopped, pushing the card out and finishing the audiograph. There were footsteps, and Eustace walked out onto his balcony, his hands tight as he tucked the audiograph away in his vest, where he clearly thought it safe. His back was to Daud and the balcony door, lighting a cigar, the smoke curling up into the warm summer night air.

The wind roared in Daud's ears. It would be so easy to drop down, slit his throat, watch the blood spill over his gloves-- and suddenly he was aching for it, longing for the crunch of bones, the heat of crimson rivers running from a burst vein, the thrill of a new kill…

The thoughts were intrusive and revolting, nearly causing him to heave again. He still managed to hold himself together, not wanting to drown in his mask, even ignoring the persistent itch on his face. The rising threat of bile burned at the back of his throat but he swallowed it down, his grip growing tight on the roof's edge. He held his position and waited, patience baked into him from years of careful practice. Fink eventually finished enjoying his cigar, extinguishing the butt before turning back to his room.

Daud waited for Fink to pass under him. He then slipped down, his boots silent against the stone. He crouched, righted himself, and pulled his blade from his side. His thumb found the notch in the metal.

When Eustace Fink turned around to close the balcony doors, Daud was there, glassy eyes and muzzled mask glaring down at the second noble that had caused this nightmare of his to happen.

Fink opened his mouth to scream. Daud rushed him, faster than he's ever moved. A powerful hand gripped Eustace by the throat, silencing him and guiding him over to a wall far from any escape route. He felt like nothing in Daud's grasp, like he was a weighted bag that Daud had the displeasure of carrying for a friend. The man was larger than him, heftier, and yet Daud could take him and lift him with a single arm, his right hand still holding the blade he'd drawn. It was heady and unbelievable, Daud didn't know where this power was coming from but it surged through him like a rising storm. He tapped further into that tempest, slamming Eustace into the wall next to his desk.

The man whimpered. Daud snarled. Fink flinched and gasped and Daud almost laughed. He can't believe someone so weak-hearted tried to command a literal monster.

Or perhaps, a nasty little voice in his head supplied, the monster was the weak one... Show him that you are different. Show him what your Power is.

"You and your brother sure made a lot of enemies, didn't you, Eustace…" Daud growled out, his teeth feeling oddly heavy, morphing his words as he spoke them. They came out graveled and sharp and he suppressed the urge to lick his lips as he continued. "If I'm here, you have a bigger problem than the City Watch finding bloated bodies under a riverside bar."

Fink said nothing. Instead, he started crying. Of all things, the man wept in front of his soon-to-be killer. Daud almost recoiled in disgust; this man wasn't even worth the coin. He slammed Fink against the wall again, eliciting a startled yelp from him.

"Do you even know why I'm here, Eustace Fink?" Daud spat the name out like it was undercooked blood ox. "Do you know who killed your brother? It was the assassin who you thought was dead in the sewers when you woke up. Your brother's monster ruined me but I survived and if you value your life, you're going to give me the answers I deserve."

His voice grew in power despite the low whisper he spoke with. His words filled his own ears, reaching the room around them, and Fink gulped visibly. He looked Daud over, rasping against the hold that kept him in place.

"Did it mark you?" He asked, finally. "The Outsider's monster?"

"And if it did?" Daud threatened, mask dangerously close to Fink's face. "What does it matter?" He brought the blade up, his head tilting. "What do you know, Eustace Fink?"

"Ah, I-I don't know as much as Howard did! He found the original beast, not me! But it… they always changed. The curse was always passed down. There isn't a cure for it. They all went mad and eventually--" Eustace gasped and his words died as Daud's grip dangerously tightened. He recalled what Brimsley had said to him, the words burning in his ears.

"You're one now too, aren't you?"

Daud's body lurched. His grip loosened, freeing Fink as that nausea filled him again, along with a different sensation, one where his head, his chest, his limbs wanted to burst, his skin scorching him all over.

"No," Daud rasped out, his eyes far away. "I am not--" He stared at his gloves; his vision blurring dangerously. When Fink tried to crawl away, however, his sight caught the movement, head turning sharply. In a flurry, the blade was singing through Eustace's heels; the tendons sliced like butter and Fink collapsed, crying out. The blood pooled around his ankles, the smell of it sharp in Daud's nose. Eustace stayed prone on the floor, whimpering, his face rapidly losing color as shock set in.

Pathetic.

Daud hunched over Fink's form, his breath ragged and heavy. Eustace stared at him, eyes wet and terrified, and Daud felt his seams unravel, his body falling apart.

"It's happening? Here, now? Oh Void, oh Outsider's eyes…" Fink continued to babble, crying out for the fabled god of the Void, as if such an entity existed, could even save him from what was happening. Daud opened his mouth to refute Eustace; it came out as a splintered roar, words failing him.

"Where is your god, Eustace?" His voice boomed, but he did not know where the words came from, not when his mouth was making such unearthly noise. "You were the one who played god, killing assassins for your games, your bloody gambling coin. Did you think yourself honorable, setting such a trap? How many men died to serve you and your fucked up brother?"

Eustace paled and he looked so small, so tiny, so weak. To think this man and his brother succeeded as much as they had, enslaving unknowing participants for entertainment…

His head reeled in anger and rage. He pulled the man close, his hands curling into smoking, burning claws that dig deep into Eustace's clothes, ripping at skin.

"Stop praying to a god who won't listen! This is your reality! Now face your judgement!"

Daud ripped the whaler mask off and underneath was no longer the face of a man. A true muzzle burst from his face, black and filled with glistening, razored fangs. His wounds burned and steamed as his eyes bulged and he screamed, the pain of the last month consuming him entirely. Ribs cracked and bones shifted and he grew, his body doubling, tripling. His skin was tearing off and it felt so good, like he had been waiting his whole life, his whole existence, for this singular moment of unbridled ecstasy.

He roared and it was like the land, the sea, like the Void itself, shook under the sound of his cry. He laughed, eyes watering, filled with relief and pain and it was all so much, too much. He screeched, the sounding reminiscent of a dying whale, before his teeth slammed together like a crashing wave. Fink was still in his vicinity; he could smell the fear, hear the pleading, but all it did was anger him further. He didn't need this sniveling worm of a human.

A clawed hand grabbed Eustace and in the next second his body was in ribbons. Guts spilled and a head rolled and Daud felt his mind flee, the smell of iron and heat overwhelming his senses in a way he'd never known after a kill. Suddenly he was ravenous, he needed that blood on his tongue. He obliged his primal desire, ripping the man's arm off with ease, letting bone and fat and muscle fill his mouth with the heat of a fleeing life.

There was a scream. Daud's ears caught it and he turned, lip curling. He had nothing to say to the woman standing in the door, hair tied back and clutching her dress. The sound of her distress continued, unwavering. Daud stepped towards her, snarling.

She ran.

He was moving faster than he could ever have imagined, his legs possessing a strength that was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His body moved on its own accord, spurred on by the thrill of the hunt, of the pursuit of prey and he was giddy, drunk off it. The house was a maze but his nose cut through the turns, following the fear and nausea, the horror of his unhinged rampage left in his wake. Walls and doors meant nothing; his body either forced its way through or smoked through openings, dissolving and coalescing in ways he didn't understand and spent no time dwelling on. He was consumed instead with the goal of reaching for and pouncing on his next victim, then the next. He caught sounds over the rush of his own blood; a tiny shrill voice here, a male voice there, the howl of hounds released upon him. All of them meant nothing; their teeth could not hurt him now. Their attacks were just pin pricks of lucidity within his fever dream, all dying or cowering before his unbridled wrath. Two dogs were bodily thrown, another bitten in half, still another tossed at a human handler, throwing both dog and man through a wall. He pursued, determined to not let anyone in the house escape. Not this time. Not after this hell month, not after everything--

A drop of water rippled through the chaos of his mind. The scent of the sea filled his nostrils, the sound of whales keened in his ears. Daud stilled, suddenly entranced, and turned his head.

A rune chittered and vibrated and sang on an ensconced shrine. The room was small, perhaps a hidden pantry; it had been revealed when Daud had thrown the body through the wall. Purple cloth fluttered from the disturbance of the crash and used candles scattered about the floor and table.

Someone was sitting on that table, cross-legged: someone lithe, dark, and still holding the ageless beauty of youth. Despite the slim, ethereal frame the person presented, Daud could sense the incredible shadow lurking just out of sight, the leviathan crying from the deep.

The figure smiled, his black, endless eyes glittering. He beckoned, and Daud obeyed. Like a leashed hound, he was irrevocably pulled under the waves, his huge body buckling before the sight of something greater, something far more ancient than he could ever fathom to be. He bowed his giant furred head and cold hands ran over his wounds, calming the persistent itch and smoothing away his month-long fever. Daud whined, giving himself over entirely as the figure held him close, arms embracing him like a long lost lover. The voice in his ears calmed his storm and soothed his pain and called him Home.

"Oh, Daud, beautiful Daud," the man cooed and Daud was enraptured, a whale's cry leaving him like a warbled gasp. The grip tightened on him and suddenly his body was melting away, the fur turning to ash to reveal his human skin underneath. He breathed, his left hand itching pleasantly where the figure held it, the other hand running smooth circles across his shoulders and down his back. Daud looked up into that ancient face and when it smiled, there was no warmth, no stars in those endlessly black eyes.

"I knew you would come back to me, Daud. After all..." the god's smile spread, breaking his face.

"...It was just a matter of time."

[amoret-the-leaf]

Summary: Wei Wuxian is determined. After seeing his Lan Zhan yawning, yawning of all things, he makes it his mission to let his husband take a rest. Though, as with many things in life, it doesn't go according to plan. Many years had passed since the esteemed Hanguang-Jun and the Yiling Patriarch had found themselves stuck in a cave on death's doorstep, confessing deeply rooted traumas to each other. Wei Ying would give everything he had and more to never let it happen again. Never. He was going to cherish Lan Wangji like he deserved, until the day he died.

Ship: Wangxian

Word Count: 5130

Author’s Note:  This story is a result of MDZS/CQL frankencanon, and may contain differences in titles and ways of addressing due to subtitle variations. This work may not be completely accurate to Ancient Chinese and Xianxia culture. If something has been written inappropriately/offensively, please let me know!

The crisp air carried soft flakes of white across the frostbitten sky. The Cloud Recesses was coated in a blanket of thick, plush snow as far as anyone could see. The rabbits had been tucked away from their place on Back Mountain into a warmer abode. Tonight, that abode happened to be the Jingshi, where a cheeky Wei Wuxian had smuggled the bunch inside to surprise his almost always overworked lover.

These days, both he and Wangji had been teaching the juniors alongside various night hunts. Though things had been mostly peaceful in the cultivation world, and currently none of the clans were at each other's throats, spirits and other nuisances were still running around causing trouble. But of course, where there was trouble, there was the esteemed Hanguang-Jun and the ever chaotic Yiling Patriarch. The current problem of their teachings was in the execution. Where he was laid back and experience based in his lessons, Lan Zhan meticulously laid out everything, leaving no room for creative exploration, and holding many lectures Wei Ying himself was guilty of falling asleep during. Monotony was somehow effective for disciples like Sizhui, but for those whose brains hadn't become entirely indoctrinated by years of rules- well, it reminded him of the boring hours during his time as a student in Gusu. Lan Qiren's tedious way of drilling said rules of the Lan Clan didn't do much either, all things considered. Like uncle, like nephew.

Though he didn't agree with endless hours of just sitting and listening, his Lan-Er-Ge was insistent. He was also insistent in just the planning alone of those dull, dull lessons. Not to mention overseeing the individual growth of each disciple, and the several times he'd be called out during the evening to help get the group of teenagers out of trouble. Wei Ying tagged along those nights, of course, but he didn't exactly wake up at sunrise most days, nor did he hold anywhere near the same amount of responsibilities the Second Jade did. He could sleep in, and it was expected of him.

So now that he could see his beloved Lan Zhan not-so discreetly yawning after their last night hunt, Wei Ying made it his secret mission to (politely) force him to take a break tonight. What better way to do that than shielding their dear rabbits from the cold? If he was lucky, maybe he could even get Lan Zhan to cuddle with him. He could be a rabbit too!

So when the door slid open, Wei Ying was already darting forwards with two fluffy bunnies in hand. "Lan Zhaaan~!" He beamed, nearly falling face forward as he stopped abruptly. "I brought in the- Eh?"

That wasn't Lan Zhan. No, he was too short to be Lan Zhan. Short and flustered. "A-Yuan?"

Sizhui looked down, apologetically. "S-Senior Wei! Sorry for coming in unannounced!" He bowed, already getting overly worried about the littlest things when it came to courtesy. Like he wasn't allowed here whenever he pleased, he and Lan Zhan didn't mind. He'd have to break this kid from being so polite! It was poisoning him!

"Ah, A-Yuan A-Yuan! Who decided you call me Senior Wei? You used to call me Xian-gege!" Wei Ying huffed, setting the rabbits down to hop around the place once more as he leaned on the doorframe. "Or maybe you prefer to call me Baba now since I clearly raised you!"

"But Hanguang-Jun ra-"

"Hanguang Jun raised you like a bunny. I raised you to be a gentleman!" He exclaimed, proudly sporting his widened smile. "Eat carrots, sit around and be cute. That's for a rabbit. I taught you all the important things! Like how to plant a little radish! And look, you got more radish friends in the end! Isn't that great?" Hands contently sat on his hips as the once feared Yiling Patriarch bragged his true colors. The two couldn't help a light chuckle from that. "But I assume you didn't come to listen to me badger about being the better parent, right?"

Sizhui shook his head. "Actually, Hanguang-Jun asked me to keep you company while he finishes some of his work." The boy explained, gladly coming in from the cold as Wei Ying stepped aside from the doorframe. He had the expression of a giddy puppy... on second thought, A-Yuan was too well mannered and tame to be compared to any dog. "Hanguang Jun must work very hard to still be reviewing this late in the evening. It's only an hour from curfew now."

Wei Ying sighed. Of course Lan Zhan had sent Sizhui to distract him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the disciple's company, but he wanted his husband by his side again. Life was so boring and lonely when he didn't have his beloved to pester. That, and his husband was going to run himself into the ground if he didn't take a break soon.

One of the rabbits bounced around, before contently nibbling on Sizhui's robe as the teen set out some tea. Of course, Wei Ying wouldn't tell the kid that the tea was only for him, and that Wei Wuxian had poured a heaping's worth of Emperor's Smile into his own cup. That would be 'setting a bad example'.

"Believe it or not, Hanguang-Jun is just as stubborn as I am. Won't admit when he's struggling, and won't easily be swayed from his duties." He spoke, a bit scornfully. As the two sat down for their drinks, most of the bunnies piled around the junior disciple, one even hopping upon his lap. "Traitors! I brought you here!"

The teen gently ran his fingers across the rabbit's forehead. He was accustomed to this, Wei Wuxian was sure of it. Either that, or they were trusting of their own kind. Lan Zhan fed him and raised him to be a rabbit, maybe they knew he was secretly their kin. "Senior Wei, do you think Hanguang-Jun is struggling?" Sizhui asked, now showing worry on his face.

"He yawned today."

Well that was definitely a surprised look. "So it's true then. He never yawns." A hand was brought to his chin. "I don't think I've ever seen him tired before."

Still pouty, Wei Ying closed his eyes. "Considering he kept a straight face after being wounded by the Xuanwu, I can say for certain he's been working too hard for too long. And I'm gonna do something about it!" Downing the rest of his drink, he abruptly stood. If Lan Zhan wasn't planning on taking a break anytime soon, he would be now. "I have an idea, and I'm gonna need your help with it. You and... where's Jingyi right now? We need a messenger who knows how to keep a secret."

-

Wangji took his work in the Lan Clan very seriously. Uncle begrudgingly learned to tolerate Wei Ying's presence over time, and his brother was always supportive of his decisions- his desires more specifically, a rare thing to him to imdulge in. Therefore, his responsibilities were tied to his sense of gratitude. Lan Wangji was grateful that he and his soulmate could reside here in peace, at least for the time being. Perhaps the Cloud Recesses wouldn't be their home forever, but for now, everything- it was as it should be. So he had to work hard. He would work hard to keep things this way.

He had sent Sizhui to hopefully entertain Wei Ying. They enjoyed each other's presence and talked frequently of the past. How he silently wished to be with them, but he had to grade papers tonight. He would sit and write as long as he had to, complying with the curfew time of course. Wangji had hoped to spend some time with his lover before the late hour came, but it would have to wait for another day. As long as they were together in the night, as long as the single lotus of the Cloud Recesses was beside him when the moon was high, he could be satisfied.

What he had presumed to be a peaceful last hour of writing changed when another of the current disciples, Jingyi, had come rushing to his side. "Hanguang Jun!" He called out, in a manner that was unnerving for Wangji. Worry. Fear. A distinguishable type of fear, shared only with those who were familiar with... "It's Senior Wei! He- something's wrong!"

His brush fell from his hand, sliding across his desk to a graded paper, leaving blotches of ink scattered on it. "What happened?" He asked, coldly. Wangji knew he was idolized by the disciple, but right now, he knew the stern, serious gaze that took hold of his face would be enough to intimidate even those whom he loved the most. His brother had so politely gotten accustomed to calling it, 'The Wei Wuxian Effect,' but that was beside the point.

Jingyi, and his inability to have the specifics, was still catching his breath. "I-I only heard yelling!" The teen looked as though he was cowering. It was only then that Wangji had realized that not only was his brush dropped, but broken in half, the second part still wrapped in his hand by knuckles that were turning white. He hadn't remembered doing that. "Hanguang-Jun! Sizhui is still with him! I don't know what's happening!"

Without needing to hear the rest, he was up and moving. As fast as any rules would forbid, he was moving. Across the paths of dusty white, he was going. The Second Jade was preparing himself for anything, clutching Bichen as the brisk pace he was taking barely left any time for marks to be formed in the snow. Wangji couldn't lose him again, his husband or their son, he wouldn't let it happen. He'd be faster this time.

Possibilities flooded his mind. Across the many towns, certain people swore vengeance to the Yiling Patriarch, for one reason or another. In the same sense, many sought out the demonic cultivator in hopes of being taught the art form, and would even carry out heinous acts to do so. Wangji sincerely hoped neither was the case. Spirits were enough of an issue, but he would always silently prefer the threat of the unliving rather than the unagreeable nature of man. Whatever the threat, he would never let Wei Ying go again. Never.

'Wei Ying!'

The doors burst open with a thud, Wangji using a great deal of strength to pry them open. Wisps of smoke lingered all around the room, coming from a tapestry set ablaze; the remains just barely intact to still hang on the wall. Sizhui was frantically trying to suppress the flames with a basin of water, but to no avail. "It's no use! I got it!" Wei Ying yelled, grabbing a section of the cloth that had yet to be touched by fire, and carefully holding it away from the wall. He bent over, gathering a pile of ashes that had collected on the ground with his other hand, smudging them across his fingers. "It has the remnants of a fire talisman. It won't be put out easily-" A glance came to his direction. "Huh? Lan Zhan when did you get here?"

Before he could answer, Jingyi had caught up, looking confused. "Huh?! When did you switch the plan to fire?! What happened to the first plan?!" He exclaimed. At that, both Sizhui and Wei Ying shot him a glare. In Wangji's experience, that meant they were hiding something. Not the first time it had happened. "I mean, what plan? There was no plan!"

"Plan?" The Second Jade asked. Hesitant looks and a light laugh were exchanged between the three. No one wanted to come forward. However, silence from Hanguang-Jun rang loudly, or so he'd been told. Though he had not intended to be intimidating, it was effective.

"Hanguang-Jun," Sizhui bowed, "Senior Wei noticed you've been working hard recently, so..." His sentence trailed off. "We came up with a plan to have you take a break. Jingyi was our messenger. Apologies for the initial deception. The fire was not part of this." The junior disciple confessed. Jingyi joined the other in his apologetic stance.

Wei Ying sighed, seeming to forget what he was holding as the last of the fire grazed his hand. Yelping, he let the last of the material go, as it succumbed to ash midair. Wangji was already by his side, holding the injury to his eyes and looking over the redness that had been left on two of his fingertips. "Should be treated." He spoke, softly. Fortunately, he had both the right balm and proper dressings nearby, as Wei Ying had a bad habit of being injured, and the healers were busy enough.

"Lan Zhaaan..." He whined, already having the gauze wrapped around by the other. "Lan-Er-Ge, this stuff won't work. I need you to kiss it better for me!" A pout smuggled on his face as he threw his arms over his lover's shoulders. "It hurts! It hurts so much! This is the end, Lan Zhan! The end of the Yiling Patriarch! I'm headed back to the afterlife for sure!"

The Second Jade sighed, looking content as he planted a gentle kiss atop his husband's now treated hand. "Be more careful." Wangji breathed out, letting Wei Ying put his head on his shoulder, still quietly embracing the hug from behind. When met with eyes that held a mischievous gaze, he repeated. "Need to be more careful, Wei Ying."

The pair of junior disciples weren't sure if they should be seeing this. Red hues brought on by embarrassment heated their cheeks. Still half-nuzzled into Wangji, Wei Ying couldn't help but laugh, looking up to the ceiling. "You kids! So easily flustered, just like your Hanguang-Jun used to be! You need to get out of this stuffy old place more often! Do some real labor, talk to the townspeople! They'll teach you how to have fun! And maybe you'll get to meet a pretty-"

"Wei Ying, the fire?"

One of the many conversational cues of the Second Master Lan- this one insinuating he wished for them to speak alone. Finally. Letting go of Wangji, much to his concealed displeasure, he shuffled away, closer to the duo of teenagers. "Alright alright. We've had enough excitement for one night, haven't we? Mission... Unconventional Success? The adults need to talk now." He teased, "and I'm sure the rest of your little duckling friends want to hear all about what happened, hmm? Run along now my little henchmen~!"

Jingyi stepped forward, seemingly wanting to protest, but A-Yuan grabbed his arm. "Right." The more daring of the two mumbled.

"Have a good evening Hanguang-Jun, Senior Wei." Sizhui added. Both of the disciples turned to leave, clearly hesitant. Wei Ying couldn't blame them for wanting to stay longer, after all, he was just so cool to be around, and spontaneous fires were certainly going to be an interesting thing to deal with if this was going to be a recurring thing! But the curfew was fast approaching, and he'd dealt with the consequences of rule-breaking enough to know that it wouldn't exactly be taken lightly should they be out longer than needed. His hand cramped just thinking about it! So much writing...

When the doors were sealed shut, the solemnity of Lan Wangji wore off. Loose shoulders, small flakes in his golden-toned eyes lighting up ever so delicately, the corners of his mouth turning upwards- to anyone unenlightened, they would notice no difference. But Wei Ying was enlightened, so very enlightened; educated and experienced in the ways of the Second Jade. Every magnetic movement made was put to a makeshift memory. His Lan Zhan was just so magnificent, he could study him for hours.

"You didn't start the fire." Wangji spoke, looking to the other for confirmation. Just as Wei Ying was experienced in his lover's expressions, Wangji was equally versed. "Good."

"We had sent Jingyi out to get you when it happened." The other started, sliding his fingers along the charred outline on the wall. "No trace of how it happened; didn't even catch our attention at first. By the time I had noticed, it was halfway singed through. What I find interesting..."

Wei Ying started digging through piles of scrolls. They had many maps, but on different scales. The one he took showed all of Gusu, and only Gusu. "It burnt one item. Of all that could have been set to fire, it burnt one item, and one that was mounted far enough from the wall as to not endanger anyone with a large scale blaze." A hand was brought to his chin. "Where did that tapestry come from?"

"Yuanwei Village." The Second Jade replied.

"Yuanwei... Lan Zhan! Did you name a town after me and A-Yuan?" A smirk crept onto the Yiling Patriarch's face. A devilish one, one of skillful teasing. He didn't remember anyplace called Yuanwei. He didn't remember a lot of things though. But there was no way-

"Farmers and merchants established a community eight years ago. Became a village. Asked to be recognized and named." He stopped, only for a minute. Wei Ying loved it when their eyes met like this. "I was given the task." Wangji informed, nonchalantly. His gaze strayed back to the map as his husband slowly turned red.

Beet red. "Lan Zhan!!! You-! You can't just say these things casually!"

"Does it bother Wei Ying?"

"No! But you can't just... But I guess you already have... Aiyahhh, I guess I'll have no choice but to love you for being so extravagant." Chenqing tapped against his hip as he held his arms around Wangji's waist. It seemed almost like a one-sided hug, but a hint of intimacy shared between them. This was nice.

Still holding onto his beloved, he turned the two of them around so he could see. Wangji had to look over his shoulder to see the map, but he didn't mind. "Yuanwei. The tapestry is from Yuanwei. There was no one close enough to cast an ordinary fire talisman, and it seems like this is too calculated to have been an attempt on our lives. Good! It's such a chore when people want to kill us."

"Mn."

Wei Ying sighed, dreamily falling into Wangji's always alert arms. "So eloquent my husband is!" Just as quickly as he dove towards the floor for the Second Jade to catch him, he bounced back to his feet. "In any case! I'm sure Zewu-Jun would want to hear about this. Especially if this was a threat to the Lan clan. Shall we go visit him, Hanguang-Jun?"

Wangji lightly shook his head. "Brother is not in the Cloud Recesses tonight. Visit to Qinghe."

The former Jiang disciple snapped. "Ah! I forgot! Huisang called a conference right? Doesn't he come back tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Great!" He tugged on Wangji's sleeve. "Then he can know tomorrow. And youuu~" Wei Ying placed a single kiss on his cheek. His voice was no louder than a whisper. "You can take a break, Lan Zhan. You've been working so hard-"

He stopped.

Why did he stop? A smile stayed on Wei Ying's face, though pained. Ah, not this again. A glint of raw emotion, a single tear rolling down from eyes just barely dusted by pink under eyes, barely noticeable. But the Second Jade did, he always would, and it was too late to turn away. Tears? Why was he crying? He hadn't been feeling sad all day. He wasn't even sad! Lan Wangji was by his side again, and they were talking. It's what he wanted. So why... "You look so tired, Lan Zhan."

He didn't want to see him like this.

"...Wei Ying?"

"Hah." He breathed out, clutching his chest. "I don't know where these tears came from... I promise you I haven't been sad this whole time. I'm not even sad now! I promise. It's just- ahh I'm sorry this keeps happening!" That much was true. Unfortunately, sometimes what he went through crept up at the most inconvenient times. Memories of the past swept in with the happenings of the present. Something his husband had assured him was fine, but he still couldn't help but feel guilty. Bandaged fingers laced between his soulmate's hand. "I just... I don't want to see you so run down, Lan Zhan. Apparently my fragile heart can't bear it." He smiled.

Wangji knelt down, kissing the top of the other's hand in desperation. "Can't bear it." He repeated. "Can't bear to make Wei Ying cry."

"I'm not crying! You didn't make me cry! See? No more tears! You didn't make me sad! I wasn't sad I promise I-" Words will do nothing. Lan Wangji never cares for words. And so, he took the other's lips himself. Passionate yet delicately making sure the Second Jade couldn't speak another word of blame towards himself. Brief, but very effective.

A finger flicked against the tip of Wangji's nose. "My Lan Zhan is so funny, thinking he could ever make me sad." A giggle escaped the Yiling Patriarch. "No, I wasn't sad. I was so happy. Happy to see you again. It feels like it's been forever to be awake beside you, but only when you don't yawn. Do you know how traumatizing that was to see? My Lan-Er-Ge yawning? Unthinkable." Wei Ying mumbled, contently sitting on the floor where his beloved still knelt. He put a head on his shoulder. "Your knees must hurt, sit properly. No need for this apology stuff. I want to lay my head in your lap-"

He rambled. Wangji liked it when he rambled. It was so vibrant, and he was so curious. Despite always being clad in black, Wei Ying was ever colorful in his soul. Wangji never cared for words unless they were his. But he could only be consoled by actions. Had he really done no wrong? Wei Ying didn't cry because of him?

"-and the ground is hogging your lap! How dare it! I should've let that tapestry burn it all! We'd build a much nicer floor in its place you know!"

Wangji let out one, singular laugh. A grin formed on his single lotus's face as he shuffled over to place his head in the now sitting comfortably Hanguang-Jun. "The floor cannot have me."

"Good. I won't let it." Wei Ying smirked throwing his hands behind his head. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you should really take that break tomorrow. We could have a relaxing day here all to ourselves. Or we could go into Caiyi Town and have some loquats- take A-Yuan and A-Yi to have dinner with us. Would you like that Lan Zhan?"

"...Would that make Wei Ying happy?" Wangji finally gave in, closing his eyes briefly in hesitant acceptance. But seeing Wei Ying light up the way he did, nodding vigorously, he would do this a thousand times over and more if he could. "I will take a break, then." He murmured, running his hand through the other's hair. Knowing they would be retiring for the night soon, he reached for a brush, undoing the tie of his husband's red ribbon. Wei Ying's hair was both silky smooth and yet small tangles always hid beneath the layers. They straightened easily with a gentle tug, never too hard.

Meanwhile his soulmate took to rambling once more. "Lan Zhan I had to go to such great lengths to bribe A-Yi to be the messenger for our plan! And I didn't even need to! One of the other disciples would've come to get you when the fire started! But now I have to get the whole lot of them sweets anyways!" He pouted, leaning his head back further to look at the other. "If I were them, I would've broken out for sweets myself! Why do they need me to do it? Kids!"

Wangji had finished brushing through the hair, letting go of it gently. "What were you planning?" He asked, both curious and a bit concerned. Nothing dangerous, and nothing that would upset him- those were out of the question. But upset uncle or the others... they were not graced with the same protections from his husband's mischief.

"Nothing special. I had brought up the rabbits earlier and was going to tell you they hopped up here all by themselves looking for you." Scooching across the floor, he picked up a basket that had been turned over on the floor. Hiding underneath, bunnies were practically stacked on top of each other. Strange, there was enough room for them all to be on the floor. "Good thing I put them in there before the fire started. Sizhui wanted to let them hop all over- but I told him you might trip over them if you were scared. That Jingyi... I told him to not scare you when I sent him!"

The rabbits hurriedly sprung over to their precious Hanguang-Jun. They had clear favoritism, even after Wei Ying had given them a talking to. Wangji let the few who were bold enough to hop onto him get settled where they liked. "A-Yi heard screaming." He started, sweetly stroking a hand on its head. "Glad he reacted."

"I guess you're right. I'd much rather you save me from a blaze than watching those juniors try and fan it."

Wangji nodded. The rabbit he'd taken to the most, the only one of dark fur they had, made its way up to his arm not long ago. It sat peacefully on his shoulder, but seemed to nuzzle into the man for more attention. Understanding the request, he lifted it up, holding it out just far enough from his body to be comfortable. "A-Ying."

Wei Ying nearly choked hearing that. His face went through thousands of shades of red, from a subtle pink to a burning strawberry, moving closer to his husband. "Eh!? First a town and now this! You never quit do you?" He asked, desperately, though sure he already knew the answer. "You never even call me A-Ying! What gives? Spoiling me and then calling the rabbit the cute name?"

He didn't need to say another word. Lan Zhan was already putting the rabbit in his lap. "A-Ying-" The Second Jade murmured, placing his head on the other's shoulder. "A-Ying is so handsome. Cute. Kind. Courageous. Strong. All the good things. Good like a bunny."

Grinning. He was grinning like a lovesick fool. Giddy, he took the brush that had been set aside, and took out ornaments in his lover's hair. Though wedded, nowadays he looked for permission before touching the sacred Lan headband Wangji wore proudly across his forehead. When he go the nod, he was quick to fumble with the tie that kept it fastened, before letting it slide gracefully into his hands.

Ha, how naive he'd been all those years ago. He'd picked a lover without even knowing it. A good choice, the best in fact, but a choice unconsciously made so young. He'd be gentle now, respectful. He owed so much debt to this elegant piece of cloth, but an eternity more to the one who wore it. Years. Life had kept on a steady pace in the blink of an eye for him, though in a new body. But... no he'd rather not pry that tonight. He was already tired, no need to bring up those memories. No more surprise crying!

Wangji's hair was damp from now melted snow. Wei Ying carefully glided a towel over it. "Lan Zhan, you shouldn't keep your hair damp. It's bad for your health."

"Mn."

When it was softened again, he ran the brush through. "We should go to bed soon. You need the extra sleep."

"Still have time. Curfew bell did not ring."

He sighed, pressing his face into the other's white robes. Sandalwood. He still had that rich, wooded trace clinging to him. "You need to sleeeeep~" Wei Ying mumbled, affectionately.

That's when the other turned around, causing him to nearly face-plant into the ground. But he was caught at the wrists. "Want to look at you." Wangji admitted, the tips of his ears tinged with a sweet pink. "Don't see you enough. Need to see you."

"You'll see me all tomorrow when Zewu-Jun comes back. You should rest now or else I'll make you take a nap then!" He teased. But of course, Wangji took it seriously, pulling away and heading for the bed. Wei Ying couldn't help but giggle as the other stared at him, waiting to be joined. "Alright alright, I'll come too. But I might be up earlier then! Maybe I'll make you breakfast!"

When they were laying beside each other, Wangji shut his eyes. "Wei Ying will sleep in."

"Is that a request or a fact?"

"Fact."

Wei Ying shuffled, propping himself halfway up with his shoulder, head sitting in his hands. "Is that so? What if you're wrong?" He poked the Second Jade's cheek. "Has Hanguang-Jun ever been wrong though? Maybe the entire cultivation world should listen to you more often. Things could be a lot more quiet."

"To us. Wei Ying is insightful." Lan Zhan added, opening his eyes once more. Turning slightly, he blew out three candles that illuminated the room. One... two... three, and the room was dark. Wangji not-so gracefully fell back onto the bed, before, turning towards the other. "Sleep." He breathed out.

"Sing to me." Wei Ying offered, only to be met with a confused, sleepy gaze. "Wangxian, sing it to me."

He tilted his head. Adorable. "Meant to be played on the guqin."

"Ahbut Lan Zhan," Wei Ying started, taking a thoughtful stance. "Your guqin is only an echo of your beautiful voice. It can't compare." An explanation that could be seen as biased, but bias was his specialty. They were married, Wei Ying could be biased compared to everyone else. He was the only one allowed to be biased when it came to Lan Wangji.

A moment of quietness passed, the only sound being the wind that whistled outside. Then, notes. Words... Words?

"You made words to this?"

"Mn."

The Yiling Patriarch brushed stray strands of velvet black out of his eyes, then Wangji's. "Lan Zhan." He coaxed. "Lan Zhan. Lan-Er-Ge. Ji-xiong. Hanguang-Jun. Lan Wangji." The names were all beautiful, each in their own way. Yet, there was one yet to be spoken. A-Ying... He liked that. Maybe his angel in white would like... Was it too bold? A-Ying was meant to be a rabbit, but he had no rabbit by the bed to blame it on. But Lan Zhan used it, so maybe- maybe he'd wanted to hear a response all these years? Only one way to tell.

"A-Zhan, it's beautiful. You're beautiful."

He smiled.

-

Author’s Note: Updates come every Sunday! There will be four chapters total :)

[floralkittygambler]

@critical-hazbin @devils-advocutie @what-the-hazbin I have Gasu on notifs because I really loved the quality of his fanart (Velvet needs love ❤️). Confirmation hes part of the team, as well as designs some merch and runs the Val account (Good on him! His art is incredible, again Velvet needs more love ❤️) but I wanted some thoughts on this. Firstly, the auto translation is gonna be shit bc they usually are but I’m interested in the focus on Val’s sex appeal and staff interactions with the characters.

Personally, Val’s sex appeal. It’s subjective I suppose? But I feel making a pimp have that is really good PROVIDING it’s backed up with why it’s dangerous and the vile nature of such people in a genuinely threatening manner (publicly, he needs to show more affection to Angel and Vox in a way that seems believable, partnered with subtle hints that it’s fake and he’s a pos. avoid teen drama as it can look fun and appealing to kids!

As for staff interactions with fiction, do that in your own time and have fun - I implore! However when you’re publicly and professionally representing a product and company, you NEED a set layer of professionalism as well as empathy towards the consumers and your products potential impacts on them. This is TWO staff members publicly romanticising and interacting with a fictitious character in ways to appeal to ships and profession. Probablyfakeblond and Gasu have now publicly done this - now with younger audiences, this is dangerous to make pimps JUST seem ‘sexy’ and ‘quirky’, and make their behaviours seem fun. Because pimps really don’t care if you’re legal or not. An insecure teen who’s easily influenced and desperate enough for love, money or ‘clout’ is a walking dollar sign as far as they’re concerned. These folks are EXCELLENT at manipulation and reading body language. Val just appears... stupid, to be honest. And his faux teen drama excuse of a love life with Vox just makes both their threat levels seem disgustingly low and comedic - even the abuse is supposed to be a punchline (and if it’s not, this is a terrible way to present that).

Overall, these accounts could be fun and interesting insights to the HH/HB universe, but that potential is wasted on staff publicly making a teen drama of every character, ships being a focus, many characters being neglected INCLUDING main characters, personalities nullifying any decency in a good designed character, publicly interacting with characters in an almost ship bait way, clear displays of self indulgence, these making more of a mess of an already poorly stringed together plot line and overall...

The lack of professionalism and visible breaks in the fourth wall for staff indulgence (which almost shows off a privilege of the team in a NEGATIVE way - the privilege is in the art/characters/plot building NOT you’re ability to have people potentially ship you with your favourites, it’s blatantly unprofessional) is just... I COULD say cringeworthy at best but that just feeds into cringe culture (though I think we’d all cringe at someone walking on a path of Lego’s barefoot - make that the new cringe culture, things we cringe at legitimately whilst some madlad just doesn’t give a fuck and faces it - jackass style). In reality it’s lack of professionalism that seems to dismiss real toxic behaviours as quirky humour is appalling for a business. As a business woman, this really makes me nervous of the hands these shows are in as well as the mixed messages, lack of research and lack of compassion for the real world effects. The promotion of toxic behaviours being a ‘quirk’ (sexual harassment being ‘cute/romantic’ to full on abuse) especially towards the influencial minds of the audience is terrifying. The real message won’t just be lost - it already IS. Maybe I’m being too paranoid, but once you have kids in your life, you see the effects so much more clearly and it’s terrifying.

The staff aren’t treating this with the sensitivity it needs. It’s just a shagfest, self indulgent, imbalanced, plot holed, immaturely handled mess. I’d expect better behaviour from the staff - and this isn’t even roughing upon the member who appears to have some disturbing fixation towards rape. It isn’t just upsetting, it’s terrifying. They’ve let the underage work illegally on the products (Al comic - FULL ID PROOF IS A MUST IN HIRING). There’s been numerous accusations of art theft that are brushed under the rug, I’m incredibly concerned. Though it’s clear this is going to be a fucking mess. When Blitzos IG posted about “Wish me luck” on him having sex to keep the Grimoire, there was a glimmer of reality - fans actually showing concerns for the feelings of deep discomfort from Blitzos side. That is before Stolas posted, then all memories of Blitzos feeling were lost. Husk being upset with Angel or uncomfortable leads to fans harassing HIM for being ‘rude’ or ‘needing to apologise to Angel’ - why? For being uncomfortable? There’s a LOT of victim blaming for “uwu gae ships” that fetishisizes gays (gays are fuckin PEOPLE not some kink-) and then the canon gays such as Chaggie are given so much shit for “crushing fan dreams like chalastor”. Funny how compatibility is involved their but the second Husk and Blitz show discomfort and no compatibility, it’s “but it’s true gae lovezzz” - how disrespectful to sexual harassment victims (ESPECIALLY male victims who people already treat as a fucking joke-) as well as turning a sexuality into a kink. I’ll be honest, rl person x fiction isn’t my issue - it’s how they’re handling it. Are the staff a part of this universe then? Why? What do they contribute? Why is this their story? Or is this self indulgence that fellow staff and fans can uwu ship? There’s nothing wrong with real x fiction but their needs to be a limit (fixation is unhealthy and self indulgence so openly is far from professional standards).

PLEASE don’t fuck this up SpindleHorse. There’s potential here for something original and enthralling, please don’t waste this over temptation and immaturity.

Sorry to tag less and I hope you all can see this, just unwell.

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham Chapter 5: Tales of the Misguided Serpent

I really am sorry it's taking more than five chapters for them to actually get to Gotham, by the way. I know most fics will usually have them there by the first chapter. I just like having a lot of build up for the plot and future subplots, so please bear with me!TW: Explicit minor character death and violence in war. Mentions of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and self-harm. 

Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this story and (hopefully) enjoying it so far! I realize I don’t say it enough, but I truly appreciate everyone who took the time to read this fic, and knowing that there are people who enjoy it are part of my inspiration to write more. As always, an extra thank you to @ozmav for the AU, and @mystery-5-5 for helping me through the writing process (and dealing with my rants).

There will be mentions and allusions to real life events and locations associated with World War II. I don’t mean any disrespect, and any character mentioned and associated within the story is purely fictional. This is not meant to be an accurate depiction of WWII or war in general, nor is it meant to be a mockery of what actually happened. There will also be brief mentions of PTSD, depression, and anxiety symptoms and self-harm. These are all based on research from sources that my therapist has given me (i.e. Centre for Clinical Interventions) and my own personal experiences. 

Lastly, Alfred is in his mid-teens here (because he would fake his age to get into the army) and he isn’t the all wise and knowing Alfred Pennyworth we know and love just yet. And we all know how Master Fu loves giving Miraculous to unqualified, unprepared owners XD. 

P.S. Not me making Sass oblivious to human stuff because I don’t know a lot of war stuff. 

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: : @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.” 

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

“Alfred Pennyworth was one of the best snakelets I have ever known, even if in the end, he did not believe so. If given the time, perhaps, he could have mastered the Snake Miraculous in all of its power, despite his young age. I think he would’ve been only a year or two older than yourself...” 

August 1943, Northwest Europe

“Alfred Pennyworth, I am Sass, kwami of the Snake Miraculous, of Intuition. I will grant you the powers of Second Chance, so long as you promise to use your powers for good.” 

The snake kwami held out his hands gracefully as he finished introducing himself to his new owner. The current Guardian had told him of his duties before he was handed to the young man in front of  him. In times of war, a little intuition could go a long way. 

As Alfred continued to remain unresponsive, Sass began to worry. Alfred Pennyworth was a young man with sharp eyebrows and dark, piercing eyes dressed in a camouflage dark-green military uniform complete with the green beret covering his scalp . Sass noticed the tiny tremors of his shoulders and his tightly pressed lips,  although it would be unnoticeable to the untrained eye. They were in a dimly lit room, although it was strangely quiet for times of war, as the Guardian had relayed to him. 

It had been perhaps the strangest experience that Sass had encountered with a human, although he didn’t have that many to rely on. The young man continued to stare at Sass, and in all his infinite patience, Sass floated in place, and entered a meditative pose above the box he had just come out of.  From the little he knew of humans, they were often slow, narrow-minded creatures who needed more patience than most kwamis were willing to give. 

However, despite the strangeness of it all, Sass felt a warm kinship with the still man in front of him. 

Sass was unsure of how long it had taken for Alfred to be shaken out of his stupor, but he soon closed the box carefully and addressed him. 

“Hello. You’re the friend Mr. Fu told me of?” He asked hesitantly. 

“Yesss,” Sass nodded. “Master Fu is the current Guardian of the Miraculous. You must be someone special for him to entrust you with me, and me with you.” 

Alfred nodded slightly. “Yes, he mentioned that you would help me in my times of need.” 

“That is correct.” 

Sass watched as the young man bit his lip in thought and lightly traced over the marks on the box. “Sass, was it?” 

“Yesss.” 

“...I am Alfred Pennyworth.” 

“I am aware.” 

He looked up from the box and lightly cupped Sass in his hands. Alfred’s eyes squinted at him, his eyes roaming over his tiny form suspiciously. Sass stayed still for him, not feeling uncomfortable at the human’s scrutiny. Humans were suspicious of the unknown, Sass decided. They were wary even when there was evidence to say otherwise. 

When Alfred seemed satisfied, he spoke again. “Why would Mr. Fu give me a tiny snake?” 

Sass frowned. “I may be tiny, human, but I am powerful. With the bracelet you hold in that box, you will be able to turn back time for an unlimited amount of times within an allotted 5 minutes after the first reset. With my help, you are able to directly change events around you as they happen, for as much as you wish.” 

The young man’s eyes widened and gulped; Sass was unable to determine if it was out of terror or fascination. 

“Why would he entrust me with such a power?” 

“The Guardian’s mind works in mysterious ways. Perhaps, he wanted to give you a chance to see in yourself, what he saw in you.” 

His breath hitched, and he gulped again. “And what if I don’t like what I see?” 

Sass floated upwards to meet Alfred’s eyes. Yellow eyes met dark brown as he spoke. “That will all depend on you.” 

For the next few months, Sass watched as Alfred Pennyworth trained with his fellow soldiers as part of the Achnacarry in Scotland and eventually recruited to the No. 47 (Royal Marine) Commando based in Dorchester once the new year came. It had been the longest that Sass had interacted with any of his holders. He took to hiding in the pockets of Alfred’s uniform, although he often wished he had another place to hide when Alfred and the other humans were training with ringing, deafening gunshots,  the thundering footsteps of a hundred men caused tremors within the soil, and the hoarse shouts and screams of soldiers in a stimulated battlefield. When the soldiers were off-duty, Sass liked the chatter as Alfred and the others conversed with one another, their different tones whether morose or jovial, since it helped him drift off to sleep in Alfred’s warm pocket. 

In what little downtime that they had, Alfred liked to ask Sass questions about the Miraculous, what they did, their purpose in the world, the limits of his own Miraculous, and always, why he was chosen to bear such a great responsibility. Sass always told him what he could (although being inactive for so long left him little knowledge of other holders), and always repeated what he had told Alfred the first day they met. Sass liked being with Alfred. He was intelligent, curious, logical, and sensitive to information. Despite the grim circumstances that surrounded their partnership, he was glad that Master Fu had chosen Alfred Pennyworth.

It had been nearly a year since Sass and Alfred met when the No. 47 Commando received their first operation on June 6, 1944. Alfred often told him stories at night of his family, his home, and his surroundings. The night before as they were preparing for battle, Alfred had shared his worries with his fellow soldiers and Sass. It would be the first time they would be in a real battle, outside of Achnacarry or Dorchester. As the Commando arrived at the battlefield the day after, all the soldiers were crammed onto a ship. It had only taken a few hours to arrive at the outskirts of where they needed to be. Only a few miles from the shore, and already the sounds of battle rang throughout the ships, and the soldiers prepared to join in. Some would join as soon as the ship hit shore while others would stay behind to make sure that their ship didn’t sink and attack the opposing army from the water. Alfred was one of the soldiers that would be fighting the moment they hit shore, so he made sure to find an empty space to transform. Sass found himself and Alfred cramped near the ship’s engine, where Alfred was already fiddling with the Snake Miraculous. 

“I won’t look like a circus act when I transform, will I, Sass?” 

Sass shook his head. “No. Make sure to imagine yourself as you are, and the Miraculous will conform to your desires. You might find that your clothes will feel scaly as a side effect. Either way, your clothes will protect you from most impacts, although I’m not sure about bullets.” 

Alfred smiled. “I see. Will I be able to talk to you when I’m transformed?” 

“No.”  Alfred’s eyes widened. “Fear not. I will still be with you, as a part of you, but we will not be able to interact as we are now nor will I be conscious when you are transformed.”

Alfred took a shaky breath. “Alright. Thank you, Sass. Anything else I need to know?” 

“Use it wisely. Seeing that many possibilities will take a toll on you. You will most likely witness one moment in time in different ways. Others may not remember the other timelines, but you will. Do not forget that.” 

Alfred gave a curt nod. “This is it, then?” 

“Yessss, I wish you luck, Alfred.” 

“As do I,” he chuckled. “Sass, scales slither.” 

As Alfred called out the last words, Sass faded into unconsciousness. He had faith in Alfred, and hoped he would work well with the Snake. 

______________________________________________________________________________

When Alfred de-transformed, Sass noticed the light in his eyes and the way he clutched tightly onto two soldiers a few years older than him. The battle was over for now, Sass mused, so Alfred must be relieved that he was safe and alive. Later in the safety of his barrack, Alfred recounted the battle in hushed whispers, how many times he went back to save just one more life (“To think, who might’ve remained dead if you were not with me,” he said, rubbing Sass’ head affectionately with his finger), or to take one more shot he missed the first time. Sass asked him the precise number of times that he went back in time during those allotted 5 minutes that he had used “Second Chance.” Sass asked him who he had saved, how, and whose lives were lost in return. Alfred answers both questions enthusiastically with a significant amount of detail, that Sass allowed himself to feel content. Alfred had saved lives, had done his part for his country.

Sass was proud of his snakelet. 

As time went on, battles were waged and the war raged on all over Europe. Sass didn’t understand human battles, but he made sure to stay by Alfred’s side for all of it. 

It was about half a year in that Sass noticed the changes that Alfred is going through. Like every soldier, he is marred with scars, had a more gaunt, more sickly frame that came from eating smaller rations and sleeping less, and dark circles under his eyes that emphasized how haunted he was. Yet, Sass noticed that Alfred was overextending himself. In every offense, Alfred volunteered to be in the frontlines. In every battle, he took the time to transform, which meant Sass was also often exhausted after every battle and struggled to eat the already miniscule portions Alfred spared from his rations. After every battle, Alfred was jumpy, going from soldier to soldier and striking up conversation whenever he could, visiting the infirmary and muttering apologies to the wounded soldiers. It took Sass a while to realize that the former had been people he had saved, and the latter were the people that he couldn’t or those that he almost hadn’t.

Nights were always the worst. In the daytime with the rush and hustle of war battles, there was not a lot of time for Alfred to do anything but act and fight, especially when he transformed with Sass. But at night, when there was a semblance of silence in his own corner of the barracks, Sass comforted Alfred through the tears, the nightmares, the bloodshed, and other horrors he witnessed. When Sass couldn’t comfort him, Alfred retreated to the arms of Leo Dupain, a soldier a few years older who knew of Alfred’s real age, and the person who Alfred recounted saving the most during his resets. He had sandy brown hair, olive green eyes, a square-like jaw with a hooked nose that looked like it had been broken at least once. Sass listened to their hushed promises of returning to the motherland and settling down somewhere in the countryside far away from the influences of war and its politics. Sass watched as both Alfred and Leo drifted to sleep, holding each other like they were each other’s only anchor to the physical realm. Sass watched as Alfred woke a half hour before the crack of dawn to visit the infirmary before beginning his training, never looking back. Each time, Sass noticed that Leo searched for warmth that had previously been there.

Sass knew that witnessing all of Time’s possibilities was a heavy burden for anyone, much less a child. Alfred related to him about comrades who had died from gunshots, from being trampled on, or thrown overboard. If not them, it was the patients in the infirmary, the ones who had fallen trap to insanity or those who had lost a part of their physical bodies forever. Alfred was inconsolable. By December of 1944, Alfred had anxiety, insomnia, and an unhealthy attachment to the Snake Miraculous.

During that time, Sass tried to teach Alfred how to be more responsible with the Snake’s power, how to use each return more efficiently, and especially, how Alfred didn’t need to use the Miraculous for every injury that his comrades endured. Sass had relayed stories of other Miraculous heros: Heracles, Hippolyta, Joan of Arc, others unrecorded in history who had struggled to learn the same lesson: that Alfred was not a god and he couldn’t save everyone. 

But war was brutal and without mercy, especially to those with kind hearts.

Everything came to a head when Alfred failed to save Leo Dupain before he could reset. Sass was thrown onto the ground as the transformation wore off, gunshots blazing in the background as Alfred’s screams pierced his tiny ears. Sass slowly shuffled to Alfred’s side, and climbed into a nearby pocket.

“Leo, Leo!” Alfred cried, grabbing the heavy body of Leo Dupain, whose leg had been blown off by a nearby explosive. Blood spilled forth from the wound, and Leo breathed in shallow gasps, as his body became limp. Alfred was soon covered in his blood and from the dust and dirt around them. Frantically, he tried to find spare cloth but was futile in his efforts. Sass could feel the tremors from Alfred’s body as he held onto Leo Dupain like a lifeline. Other soldiers had heard his cries and clambered to them, grabbing Alfred forcefully out of Leo’s arms and into safety,

“He needs me! Stop! I need to save him!”

“Leg’s been blasted off, can’t do much for ‘im now but fight,” a soldier- Gabriel Ackles- muttered. He had been one of the soldiers Alfred saved a week earlier from a headshot.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Alfred ranted hysterically. “I was supposed to save him; he wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He’s going to die…”

SLAP

Alfred stood stunned as Gabriel stood before him, red-faced and fuming.

“We are in battle, soldier! Get it together! You wanna help Dupain, Pennyworth?!” Gabriel didn’t wait for an answer before shoving a long gun of sorts into Alred’s hands. “You go out there and drag every Nazi motherfucker to hell or die trying! You got it, soldier?!” 

Sass watched as Alfred’s eyes dimmed into a stormy grey and stared at the gun in his hands. A second passed and with trembling hands, Alfred was marching back onto the battlefield, gun ablaze. Sass tried hard as he could to use whatever remaining energy he had to protect Alfred, but the amount of resets during Alfred’s transformation had exhausted him and he fell unconscious to the sounds of war.

When Sass regained consciousness, it was to Master Fu’s face. A chill ran down his spine as he fluttered around frantically searching for Alfred. They were in an empty room that only had a few books, two futons and the Miracle Box. There were two double doors that separated their room from the outside world and another, smaller door that led to the rest of the building. 

Where were they? Why was he here? More importantly, where was Alfred?

“Do not bother, Sass,” Master Fu said in a tone more morose than he had ever heard. “Mr. Pennyworth has returned you to me. It has been several months since you were inactive.”

Sass deflated and floated down to the ground beneath him. “Where is he now, Master?”

“I am unsure.” Master Fu looked out of the large double doors. “I am afraid that I have placed too many expectations on young Alfred. When he helped us escape London, I had given you to him as a token of gratitude and friendship.”

“Master?”

Master Fu sighed and turned back to look at Sass with teary eyes. “I could not have foreseen that I had cursed more than blessed him, Sass. He had refused to give you back at first, and it was only yesterday, a month since I last saw him, that you had returned to us.”

Sass couldn’t speak. He had really liked Alfred Pennyworth. He was a good man- one of the best. But, even he couldn’t deny the madness he had endured during his time as one of his snakelets. If kwami had hearts, Sass knew it would be obliterated by the news.

“I see, Master,” was all Sass said before Master Fu renounced him and his Miraculous.

Present day

“And that was the last I heard of Alfred Pennyworth. The next time I appeared in this realm, it was to Luka Couffaine.”

Marinette wiped away a few tears that had sprung up during Sass’ story.

“Do you think he would have anything to do with the Miraculous after all he’d been through, Sass?”

Sass bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Perhaps. He had many questions I could not answer. I am not sure if his trauma overrode his curiosity. I know he had been planning on studying the Miraculous more before Leo Dupain had died.”

Marinette played with her hands as she mulled over Sass’ response. Something about his story caught her attention.

“Leo Dupain? As in my granduncle, Leo Dupain?” 

Sass blinked, yellow eyes trained on her. “Perhaps.” 

“If they're the same person, then he’s still around,” Marinette mused, thinking of the one-legged elder from her early childhood that made her laugh with his silly jokes and warm cuddles. “I never really kept up with him since my grandfather kept us away from Papa’s side of the family. He was funny, though.”

Marinette entered a silent trance, going over all the new information she had received so far, while the kwamis waited with bated breaths. Alfred Pennyworth had deeper ties with her than she had previously thought. In another world, he would’ve been another distant granduncle. However, would she risk going to him in this world when the Miraculous had already scarred him so deeply? But what if he didn’t know about her granduncle? What if he spurned her away despite that? What if he didn’t? What had Master Fu seen in Alfred Pennyworth that he had practically given away one of the Miraculous to his care? How would she explain everything that had happened since their last argument?

What other choices did Marinette really have?

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, the only kwami comfortable enough to break her train of thought.

She sighed, not liking her decision one bit, but she was desperate, and in some ways, this would be beneficial for both Alfred Pennyworth and her.

“Looks like we’re going to Gotham City.”

______________________________________________________________

I really am sorry it's taking more than five chapters for them to actually get to Gotham, by the way. I know most fics will usually have them there by the first chapter. I just like having a lot of build up for the plot and future subplots, so please bear with me!