#i have CHRONIC foot in mouth disorder

[sophiethewitch1]

Do you ever say something wrong and then just want to walk into the ocean and never be found again or something

[stergeon]

for the writer ask

💭🚦💛 💌

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.

writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.

i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.

and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow

🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?

look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)

come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.

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

honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.

to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.

i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

actually Just answered this in another ask!

[anonymouspuzzler]

HBG x Villain-Coded 5: in which Felix very slightly overcorrects

starting a @heartbreakgulch x @villain-coded-comic thread because there's been uh. a few of these. that i've drawn. thanks again to @strangegutz & company for letting me play with their tuoys

[redacted-metallum]

I have chronic foot in mouth disorder and idk how to fix it.

[itsnotyouitslyme]

The Diagnosis

On December 20, 2023 I had finally been seen by a POTS specialist and got the answers I was looking for but it was not the answers that I wanted.

On December 17, 2023 I went to a Bill vs Dolphins game and had the time of my life. The problem was that I also was forced to come face to face with how sick I truly am and have been for well over 2 years.

The walk to the stadium left me in tears due to the pain in my shins and calves feeling as though my muscles were being shredded, my feet burning from the pressure of standing, my lungs bursting because I just couldn't get the oxygen I needed. Then my right foot lost movement, I experience my first drop foot.

We eventually found a wheel chair and my friend insisted I sit, I opened my mouth to argue that "no, I have this" but nothing came out. I knew I did not, in fact, have this anymore.

I'm 33 and I had to use a wheel chair. That was a definitive turning point.

I messaged the POTS specialist in Rochester, stating that my quality of life was degrading fast and that I experience drop foot for the first time. The doctor fit me in the next day, which tells me that the doctor who referred me to him did not note the urgency or read my cardiac test results correctly.

The POTS specialist told me that based on my test result my age is 65-70 years old and that I not only had POTS but I had another autonomic disorder that was causing my resting heart rate to be high. This hit me hard. I know I FELT that old but to hear that my body was showing that age in tests...brought a whole new validity to how I was feeling. And what's worse...truth. For the past two years I've been living in varying states of denial that had me not advocating as hard as I should have been with my doctors and even had me questioning if I was just lazy.

Do. Not. Gaslight. Yourself. Your doctors and people around you will do that enough, you don't need to do that to yourself as well.

Don't get me wrong, I have great friends but I've been chronically ill since I was 17...I keep them all at a distance. I don't want people to see me in these vulnerable and weak moments. That's when people take advantage of you or say you are doing something for attention or even worse "that's just how they are (dramatic)."

16 years of illness related trauma has led me to this point. I need to get these thoughts out or I might explode. But also, I CANNOT be the only one feeling isolated, gas lit, and cast aside because of chronic illness. I cannot be the only one who wants to fight back but doubts their ability to do so.

So far, my game plan is to drink 100-112oz of water a day, up to 96oz today. I am researching compression LEGGINGs because the socks caused a muffin top situation on my calves that we will never repeat. Plus I hate socks. I've bought the book POTS: Together we stand. I will be buying a recumbent exercise bike. I am researching VERY easy restorative yoga routines that are around 10 minutes. Researching how to elevate the head of my bed. I also need to start slightly upping my salt intake.

The doctor told me that progress will be measured in months to years and to not to expect to feel better by the next time I see him in 6-8 weeks. I will be tracking my progress with my Fitbit Versa to see if my heart health trends at all in the right direction. It's going to be a slow and steady race and I need to find rewards for myself for completing a week.

GOAL: Complete Restorative yoga 3x a week until exercise bike comes. Then pivot to exercise bike every day and yoga 1x a week.

Will I be able to complete this goal this week? Probably not. Will I be mad at myself? Sure. Do I also know that I need to be kind to myself? Also yes.

I cannot be alone in this self deprecating cycle of hell.

Things I miss: My work out high, being able to travel, doing regular yoga routinely, walking my dog, and being able to clean my home in one swoop.

I am hoping I can get parts of my life back but until then I allow the space to process how much this sucks and how it's not fair that for the second time in my life I am climbing out of Lyme Disease abyss that has ripped pieces of myself away. Pieces I may never get back.

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

BTHB 2023 - Fill 13 - Chronic Illness

I just really love @brinkofdiscovery's characters okay, like. Andrew is so fun!! ALSO MY FIRST BINGOOOOOO!!

TWs: Disordered eating (in the ADHD way), fainting

Mariano's bones never lied. His anxiety did. His paranoia did. Sometimes even his mind did. But his bones? His bones had never lied to him.

Today, his bones did not like whatever Andrew was doing differently. He was still getting his work done, and doodling whatever mad invention he was going to tinker with next, and chatting Mariano's ear off, but...something was wrong.

It wasn't his hands. Andrew flipped a paper cup effortlessly through the air before catching it and filling it with syrups and coffee. He steadily dragged the swizzle stick through the milk he added, producing a heart that quickly turned into a swan for the young man that he'd been subtly eying.

Andrew wasn't even acting weird. He sang along to the playlist they had drifting over the radio, sweeping and cleaning between customer rushes. He tapped his foot when he perched on the chair behind the register. His bright orange mohawk swayed as he bobbed his head. He even quipped back at whatever dry jokes Mariano cracked.

That feeling just never went away, though.

By two, Mariano found himself hovering. He knew it was odd. No one wanted their boss sticking so close, no matter how positive the relationship was. But there Mariano was, elbow-deep in their ice maker to scrape the built-up ice from it. This wasn't even something they should've done until that Friday, but he needed some excuse to stay up at the front. At a point, he thought he might really have just been worried over nothing.

Then, Andrew stumbled.

It was just the squeak of his shoes against the tile, but Mariano's gaze snapped over to him. As he opened his mouth to ask Andrew if he was alright, he got his answer. Mariano leaped off the step stool just as Andrew's knees gave out, only just able to keep his head from knocking against the tile or countertops.

Trembling from the strain of the bend he'd forced himself into, Mariano cautiously lowered Andrew down onto his back and crouched beside him. One hand patted Andrew's too-pale face while the other cupped the side of his neck, feeling for his heartbeat. "Andrew. Open your eyes." He said, frowning.

Mariano's thoughts raced through the myriad of reasons his employee could be unconscious. His pulse was a little quick, a little weak, but not to any alarming degree. Andrew hadn't mentioned having a fainting condition before, either. Had he taken his lunch? He'd seen Andrew eat some snacks, sure. The almost-overripe fruit and stale pastries needed to go somewhere, after all. Mariano couldn't remember for sure, though.

"Come on, Andrew." He repeated, lifting an eyelid to check if his pupils responded. They did. "Look at me." When that hand pressed to Andrew's forehead, Mariano realized he felt cold and clammy. "Wake up. You can do it."

Andrew's fingers twitched, and he mumbled something. A string of vague syllables drifted into the air and slid into a groan as he squeezed his eyes shut harder. Clumsily, Andrew brought his hands up and pressed them against his eyes, pushing his glasses to his forehead and up over Mariano's knuckles.

All at once, Mariano felt the tension melt from his shoulders, voice softening. "Yes, yes. There you are." He took his hand from Andrew's forehead, placing it on his shoulder. "Talk to me. Do you know where you are?"

"I like when you...when you tell me what to do." Andrew responded, a big grin melting over his face. He blinked slowly, eyes wandering as Mariano straightened back up. "I'm...at work...on the floor."

Mariano shrugged out of his hoodie, folding it up and getting it under Andrew's head. It was thin, but softer than the floor, at least. "Good, good. Did you eat today?" The step stool was tugged over and Andrew's feet were propped up on top of it.

"...I had a banana." Andrew said, not quite able to meet Mariano's eyes.

"When did you have lunch?"

"I was going to take it." Andrew huffed, crossing his arms. "I just kept forgetting to tell you."

Mariano nodded. "Don't move. I'll get you something to drink, and once you can walk I'm driving you home." He patted Andrew's shoulder before standing, returning as promised with the bottle of orange juice he'd left untouched from his own breakfast.

The juice was opened with a snap, and Mariano helped Andrew sit up enough to drink. "Slowly, there's more fruit if you need it." He reminded him as Andrew started drinking, one arm supporting Andrew's shoulders .

"Don't you need help closing?" Andrew asked, seeming to force the bottle away from his own mouth. His head leaned back against Mariano's shoulder, the pallor already starting to fade.

Mariano shook his head. "I'll be fine. And I will also be fine tomorrow, because you are not coming in. You have plenty of sick time." Even if he didn't, Mariano would've pulled some strings. He hadn't liked seeing Andrew so still.

"Fine." Andrew conceded, draining the rest of the orange juice before Mariano could say anything. "You'd just better not get shot this time."

"I think that's a fair deal."

[gabriel-corona]

500 6.24.24

Crazy shit your dad/ Family did to you

that in hindsight is kind of comically abusive/ but also mortifying that i happened to a young person/ you really should have told someone at school/ and had CPS called on your family/ I don't know if been taken away from the system would have saved you/ but you could have gotten out sooner

One time you guys were driving to Mexico/ they got a hotel/ your family slept on beds and made you sleep on the floor

Your father did not attend your middle school graduation

Your father did not attend your high school graduation

( when I think about all this it still hurts/ i am trying not to linger on the past, and in it is an insane thing to say out loud/ but I ever see him again i want to kick him into the ground, foot to neck, having the heel of my shoe press the air from his throat)

When you were about 10 and you visited Mexico they all slept inside your early childhood home

And they made you sleep outside in the car/ no heat/ in winter in the cold arid Desert climate

In the house where you grew up during the summer/ there was an AC unit in the living room

-There was a large tree providing shade by your mother's room

-he installed A window unit in your older sister's bedroom

-And he slept in the cool basement

-You slept in a room/north facing windows/ Venetian blinds/ no AC unit/ no box fan a lot of the times

-your bedroom directly above your kitchen, in the summer Sundays your mother would cook stove top beans, and boil stew the heat would quickly migrate to your room / broiling in the only space

One time you called Laura an idiot she was around two or three because she spilled cereal all over the floor/ your father Heard you/ came quickly up the stairs/ slapped you/ and when you attempted to fight back/ he threw you on the floor

One time you were smart mouthing him in the kitchen/ he slapped you across the face/ your mother began crying silently/ and said I am tired of this/ she never left him// when you sister bought a new house

he decided not to come along with us//

your mother never worked up the courage to leave him/ she was never gonna leave him

she would have let him make a complete waste of your life, and not given it a second thought

we are lucky that by chance he grew bored of us

///

By all accounts/ all the information we have collected alludes to your paternal grandfather being much worse/ that man was violent and angry beyond means of explanation/ other notes from your aunts say that your father out of all 12 siblings was the quickest to anger

If I were to try to understand how my father's brain works/ I assume he thinks he was an improvement of a father compared to the one he had

This understanding has brought me no solace

As it is comparable to being struck by a mountain when someone else was struck by meteor

this complex Post traumatic stress disorder Will be chronic/ it will be something that you will have to grapple with for the rest of your life/ and it is likely to impact almost every facet of your day-to-day life

I could be nuanced and Bring in patriarchy/ even men suffer under the system yada yada… class dynamics/ your father grow up dirt poor/ intergenerational trauma/ on some level he is unable to connect with any member of his immediate family/ at each line of kinship there is an alienation/ we hypothesize that there is an untreated depression there/ possibly even some gender dysphoria/

But at the end of the day to me none of that cuts it/ none of it offers any resolve or alleviation to the problem/ at the end of the your father is worthless/

Ie. He cannot and has not brought you anything of value to your life/ he has only brought you pain and suffering/ he has only cut you down where other fathers might nurture their children to grow

Any perceived benefits you have received /moving to marengo/buying a house/ was a secondary outcome of himself attempting to better his own life

////

For a while now we have hypothesized that there is some kind of blood curse on the family/ and that might be so/

Some dark transgression made generations ago/ now bound to us/ your great grandfather killed by a member of his family/ your grand father tied to a chair as a child feet bound left there overnight/ your grandmother, mother giving birth to 12 children in the span of 15 years dying in childhood at the last child/ lying on the floor left to die as her body internally bleed/ her mother in law in one corner of the room her oldest daughter in the other// her two oldest sons their faces still round not any older than 10 running through the night/ racing in streets not yet lit up by light posts/ pacing hoping to reach your mother’s father before their mother dies

One aunt with polio/ one uncle dropped as an infant physically and psychologically maimed/ another aunt with a temper like a knife

one aunt by marriage mother of your three children now has a brain tumor her long straight black hair falling form her head/ one uncle by marriage father of six Dead at 52 from a new virus strapped to a respirator/ your sister statutory raped at 16/ his two front teeth kicked in by border patrol agents/ your 12 year-old son riding in the passenger seat daydreams about killing you

/////

You suffered

You have suffered

But you are not the only one who has dealt with strife

You are not Christ on a cross

You have to remember to take yourself outside yourself sometimes

What has been so illuminating about Rockford/ is that people here people wear their wounds on their sleeve/ their face tattoos/ Black teardrops on their cheeks/ bleeding crosses/ baby footprints/ and the names of miscarriages

Suffering is not quantitative, but i would be safe to assume that there are those who have suffered leagues beyond you, there is always someone who will understand you/ there will always be someone who could be in need of some help

This is a good place to remember your suffering is not universal/ it's hardly individual

How many Mexicans grow up with a stern authoritative father

How many queers grow up with the distant from their fathers

How many fat kids harassed incessantly in middle school playground for something as harmless as their belly

Remember compassion

If you feel anger/ take it as a call that you need to heal/ need to rest/ need to grieve

It is the work of days

[mayalaen]

I’ve got 4 family members who have been diagnosed with malignant narcissistic personality disorder, two of them bipolar as well. One of them lives with me and I take care of him because he’s old and one lives with my uncle but I take care of her medical needs because she’s old.

All four of them have traumatized me, and it took years to learn what was happening and learn to how to deal with it and keep myself as safe as possible. I still fuck up. I let something get past my defenses just a couple weeks ago and it was BAD.

I see posts like that all the time about manipulation and it’s like DUDE you have no idea. Not only don’t you know, but you’re so naive that (like Unforth said) you’re making yourself ripe for abuse.

And maybe you’ve already been manipulated so badly that you’ve been unconsciously trained to excuse the behavior.

There’s a difference between saying how you feel and manipulating people, but sometimes it’s super hard to tell, especially when the person saying it is SUPER manipulative and every word out of their mouth is a lie.

One of my family members is just starting to realize he’s bipolar (still won’t admit to the MNPD) and he’s making some mild attempts to change at almost 80 years old after beginning psych meds 2 years ago.

I’m not letting my walls down even if it’s genuine changes because he’s hurt me way too many times.

Other people hear about this and think I’m an asshole, but I don’t give a fuck.

You don’t live with these people and you haven’t been traumatized by them.

YOU have to protect yourself even if the person is genuinely trying to change or feels remorseful or doesn’t actively mean to do the damage.

I don’t understand how the general thought on this has shifted so hard to “but think of THEIR feelings and uwu protect the innocent baby manipulator or excuse them because they said they’re sorry an they have feelings!!” but it’s probably because the manipulators themselves have gotten on social media and spread this shit.

I get that there are people who accidentally hurt others, but someone who chronically and constantly gaslights, manipulates, lies, and flat out abuses everyone around them CAN’T be given unrestricted access to your head and your heart.

Even if they’re working on changing, they’re STILL going to hurt you whether they mean to or not, and to see people whine and cry about the manipulator’s feelings just pisses me off.

After all the damage they’ve done, you’re STILL going to side with them? Still going to feel bad for THEM?

They’re the ones that did the damage. Even if they’re treating you wonderfully from here on out, that damage is done and they can flip right back to being abusive at any moment and think nothing of it.

And don’t forget that one of the aspects of MNPD or NPD or sociopathic behavior is that they don’t have empathy or compassion.

I know this is hard to believe, but you can’t hurt their feelings. You can damage their pride, but they don’t care enough about anyone other than themselves to actually get hurt in the same way you can. They may act hurt, but that’s a manipulation, and they’re VERY good at it.

And yes, they’re mentally ill, but that doesn’t mean you have to let them heap it on you.

I went off a bit on a rant here, and sorry if this derails your post or says stuff you weren’t going for but I’ve been going through quite a lot of therapy in the last few years because of all the abuse and trauma and all the things I didn’t even realize myself until just a few years ago.

I wish I would’ve known all this stuff when I was a kid. I still would’ve been damaged, but I would’ve had the tools to keep myself safer and I wouldn’t have been so fucking confused all the time. I wouldn’t have fallen for most of their shit.

Maybe if you’re excusing behaviors and going after people for putting their foot down, think about yourself. Think about what you’re doing and why you’re doing it. Maybe you’ve been brainwashed, gaslighted, and manipulated into defending them without even realizing it. Please get help.

Saw a post where people in the notes were arguing that behavior is only manipulative if it's intentional and planned, and tried to "prove" it with, like, Baby's First Example Of Manipulation ("if you don't do xyz, I'm gonna do abc.") and it's been ten minutes and it's still giving me hives. They were literally like "do we need to take 'manipulative' away and put it on the shelf" because they don't understand what manipulative behavior is.

Look if you (generic) think manipulative behavior has to be conscious, intentional, and planned, you are absolutely clueless and ripe for being manipulated. People can be i.n.s.a.n.e.l.y. manipulative without realizing they're doing it, and not recognizing that is, frankly, dangerous.

Signed, someone who has been repeatedly abused by people who certainly thought they weren't manipulative BUT ABSOLUTELY WERE.

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

Pre-war au in which Steve and Bucky are the same height as canon but Steve weighs as much as Bucky did and vice verse?

Thicc, sturdy boy Steve with a good constitution, he’s got some muscle under all that doughy fat, and has a near-endless appetite — Sarah couldn’t afford much, but she could afford to put food on the table so that was always how she spoiled him, the only real way she could. So now he’s all good 5’4, but he’s pure beef — the good kind, prime, lean with good fat.

Bucky’s a good half-foot taller, but half his weight, and with none of the muscle mass. He’s got a list of allergies and intolerances a mile long, and a list chronic illnesses longer than that. He’s canon Pre-Serum Steve, but taller and with dark hair. And with some kind of health insurance too.

I headcanon often that Bucky’s parents were business owners, so maybe Steve gets a job there? Its a bakery and Steve helps out in the back, doing the heavy lifting — carrying huge sacks almost as big as he is over his shoulder. It always does things to Bucky, sat studying for college while watching this little butterball throw a fifty kilo bag like it’s nothing.

Ooooh, this is an interesting idea! I like it! 

Putting most of this under the cut because there are specific weight discussions (re: weight discussions with numbers) that can be a trigger if you’ve experienced disordered eating or eating disorders (as I have). Just FYI. 

I love this idea! The trading weight is so fun!

Although, I know right off the bat that there’s no way, looking at the movies at least, that Bucky would ever be as light as Steve was pre-serum. It’d be pretty impossible/near-deadly for Bucky (since he’s played by Seb, who’s 6’0” not 5’7” to 5’9” as Bucky is in the comics). And I don’t wanna go there exactly, so… Bucky will be very light but not that light. I’m gonna go for the skinny Steve look but not literally is weight, y’know? 

Anyway, information dump lol~

In the movies, Steve was 5’4” before the serum and weighed roughly 95lbs whereas Bucky was 6’0”, and the “average” weight for someone that size (who’s male) ranges between 160-196lbs. However,  this was during the Great Depression so it most likely would’ve been either the low end of that range of a “healthy” weight or below the range itself, since food was rationed and expensive. However. We like ‘em thick here, so just because, we’ll say that Bucky in the films, pre-war, weighs 180lbs. Meaning… using as BMI visualizer, they look like this:

(Steve left; Bucky right)

But if they swapped...

(Again, Steve left; Bucky right*)

They’d then look like this! Look at that, that fat little Steve 🤤🤤

*note: according to the BMI visualizer I was using, to get Bucky to look like Steve from before they swapped weight, he’d be 115lbs which is still very scary to me, someone that tall being that thin but… this is fiction. This is fiction. Poor baby’s never actually gonna be that light.

Looking at them is really interesting and woof, yeah, imagining Steve walking around, beefy and strong and sturdy™️ is really fucking good. Like...

His thighs rub together. He flexes and his arms are HUGE with both fat and muscle. His belly jiggles except for when he’s put in a good day's work and returns home only to scarf down as much food as he can, packing himself tight. Filling up that tank of a belly on baked sweets. Mmm. 

And poor Bucky! Baby has a lot of issues, just like canon pre-serum Steve, but also he’s got a fainting issue. So sometimes when he feels extra faint upon waking up, he just stays in bed. And if Steve isn’t out working (or if he can get away from work), he’ll stay with Bucky, getting up to fetch Bucky (but mostly himself since Bucky’s appetite is tiny) snacks or something to drink. However, when he’s in Bucky’s bed, he lets Bucky lay his head on his lap- his thighs making a nice pillow. Or he lets Bucky put his head on his fat, pillowy tummy when he begs with those big puppy-dog eyes and that soft mouth that wouldn’t even melt butter. Bucky likes the contrast between them. Skin and bones versus soft, plush fat. Well. Soft when Steve isn’t full. But it’s not that Bucky doesn’t like when Steve is stuffed, he also likes resting his head on Steve when he’s full. He might even like it more when he’s full because when he’s full his tummy gurgles and makes sounds as it tries to plow through everything Steve’s shoved into it, trying to turn all that good food into even more fat and beefy muscle. Those gurgles often put Bucky to sleep. And that fat and beef keeps him warm when he can’t do it himself. 🤤😍

And, YES, "It's a bakery and Steve helps out in the back, doing the heavy lifting - carrying huge aacks almost as big as he is over his shoulder. It always does things to Bucky, sat studying for college while watching this little butterball throw a fifty kilo bag like it's nothing."

SAME BUCKY. IT DOES THINGS TO ME. (Btw for other dumb Americans like me, 50 kilos is about 110 lbs)

Thank you for this little AU, I love it!!

[flowertot-s]

*surprise shawty!!*

How would Cove help take care of a sick MC? Or just an MC who’s feeling down in one way or another? Please and thank you ♥️♥️♥️

its been a minute whoopsie daisies, gonna try and get back into the swing of writing for like the fifth time in six months lmao

cove comfort headcanons inbound for my fave

cove is awkward and clunky just. in general, we know this

its a little hard for him to immediately know how to comfort you cause he doesn’t have great instincts or intuition when it comes to that kind of thing

and so he may accidentally cause more harm than good in times like these (case in point; the talks moment from step 3 if you ask him to leave you alone for a while)

his style of comfort depends entirely on the situation but can be split into three main situations: you’re sick, you’re depressed, and you’re having an argument

sick comfort:

personal nurse cove incoming

lets be real here he has no idea what the hell he’s doing

will absolutely freak out and be dramatic over it when its not even a big deal

tbh he’s probably more worried than you are right now

if you’re cold/flu sick he’ll bring you blankets, soup, hot/cold compresses, anything your little heart desires, he also will absolutely kiss and cuddle you despite your warnings that he’ll catch whatever you have

he insists he’s just built different

spoiler alert he’s not and now HE’S the one who needs comfort

if you’re sick in the stomach, throwing up, nauseous, hungover, or you have some kind food poisoning he won’t even hesitate to hold your hair back while you puke into the toilet

he’s surprisingly not an empathetic vomiter so he won’t even flinch while cleaning up puke, what a man

he’ll brush your hair to make you feel less gross and will be at your beck and call for absolutely anything and everything

will INSIST that you eat like he’s a nursemaid or some shit, no matter how hard you try to argue (and hey, if you chuck it all back up you get to say “i told you so”)

overall, mediocre nurse but a very good teddy bear 9.5/10

depressed comfort:

cove doesn’t really. Get how to comfort someone who’s depressed

i don’t see him as the kind of person to struggle with this kind of thing and so he doesn’t necessarily really know how to comfort you right off the bat

may or may not do something absolutely stupid and upset you even more but please forgive him, he’s trying his best and has nothing but good intentions

if you want your space he’ll give it to you but he’ll always send you messages just to check up on you, may even just sit outside your door or in another room till you want to see him

if you want him to comfort you he absolutely will, but if you don’t want him to talk please say so or else he’ll jabber your ear off (very good for if you want to distract yourself though)

you won’t even have to lift a finger, he’s doing whatever you need him to do before you can even ask

he’s more of an Acts Of Service love language kind of guy in my head, he’s more about showing that he loves you through his actions rather than his words (cove suffers chronic Foot-in-Mouth disorder) and so he’s usually showing that he cares about you through his actions while you’re in a funk

overall, he’s not great at dealing with this at first but once he gets the hang of it he’s a natural

argument comfort:

this one is. a little complicated

cove tends to kind of shut down during arguments and so it can kind of come across like he’s being dismissive of you or trying to ignore what you have to say

he’s not trying to come across that way, but unfortunately he never knows how to deal with these kinds of situations and so instead of fighting or fleeing, he just straight up freezes

he might accidentally lash out but it’s not because he’s mad, he’s just stressed out and anxious at this whole sitch

he doesn’t deal with arguments very well because of his parent’s track record but is determined to do better by you

after the yelling stops it can go one of two ways;

1. you try to make up with him and talk it through, which cove definitely prefers over option 2. he’ll be as physically affectionate as you’re comfortable with and is constantly reassuring you that he hears you and that your feelings are valid

2. you can’t reach a resolution and don’t want to sleep in the same bed as him. this absolutely breaks his heart but he does understand why. if you lock yourself in the bedroom he’ll sleep outside like a dog until you decide you want to start talking again. overall, he’s not happy about it but he’s respectful of your boundaries and receptive to what you need in the moment

damn i could defs write some more headcanons abt cove and arguments if u want em lmao

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH. 10

Even with the fatigue you felt after your laughing tic, you couldn't go to sleep at all last night. Which isn't a big deal, after all you are a chronic insomniac who has had an on off sleep schedule this week.

After twelve fifty-two hit and you still weren't tired or even close to doing your tired tics you did the only thing you could think to do on this technical Saturday morning. You started on your weekly tidy of the house. Bless whatever powers at be that you ended up in this cottage outside of town rather than an apartment unit surrounded by neighbors. The amount of complaints you would've gotten would have surely gotten you evicted.

It's not like you could stop this behavior, well you could but if you start doing nothing when you have spurts of insomnia you'll get lazier when you need to be productive. Banking on the fact that you'll just do it when you have insomnia. It happened all the time when you were in school, and while that worked for a while it wasn't a healthy way to cope with your sleep disorder.

You've found doing productive things or anything you would do when the sun was up typically helps you regulate you circadian rhythm faster than it ever did when you just laid in bed praying for sleep to take you.

It isn't at all surprising when you finish your chores around two forty that morning. With nothing better to do and not being at all in the mood to do any attempt at art or reading. You decide to settle in to watch a movie. It starts with scrolling through Netflix and seeing Coraline, then that turns into Paranorman, which turned into Corpse Bride, several episodes of the old Twilight Zone.

By the time you were finished with the fourth episode it was already one in the afternoon. You really needed to start baking if you wanted fresh cookies for the movie tonight. Setting up your monster movie hard drive to play a movie for background noise you set out on baking.

It's a super simple recipe you started using back in high school but it's always a hit at parties. Maybe it's because you fold candies, chocolates, nuts, or whatever topping into each cookie individually. You can't say for sure but everyone loves them, and you think that's nice.

Creaming butter while the sounds of a woman screaming in agony as a zombie eats her lower intestine seems very much on point for you. However, you soon find yourself drowning out the movie as you hyper focus on the mixing of ingredients. You tripled the recipe, hoping to make a mixture of mini sugar cookies, mini chocolate chip cookies, and mini mini M&M cookies. If you had thought about it more you might have grabbed a jar of maraschino cherries to add them to the mix. Although you think three batches of mini cookies might be a little excessive so four may have been overkill.

'Oh well, no turning back now.' you think preheating the oven for four hundred degrees and roll tiny half inch dough balls while you wait.

After about fifteen minutes you assume the oven is hot enough to start baking. You line the first tray up all with sugar cookies. You only get two thirds of the bowl down on that tray. It was your biggest one too. Setting a timer for ten minutes so you could turn the cookies to let them bake for another three after that, you turn your attention to folding a handful of chocolate chips into the next bowl's dough balls. Placing the new chocolate chip dough into the bowl holding the rest of the sugar cookie dough as you go. You nearly finish that when the timer goes off to spin the tray. Honestly at this rate all your dough will be ready before you even have one bowl down. You hope you can finish baking in time for the movie.

It's five o' two by the time you put the last batch in the oven. You've been cleaning as the cookies baked and now your kitchen is nearly clean once more. Just a few more dishes to do after that batch comes out and you pack up the cookies.

Letting the most recent batch have a chance to cool you start placing all the cookies in your three largest containers. You'll need to grab a fourth container for the last of the cookies, but all the cool cookies are now ready for transport.

And with how early in the evening it is you should eat something now so you can have some room for snacks later. Time to finish off that pizza. Taking a slice out to the bins and placing it neatly on the ground for Chonk, whenever it is he decides to come and claim it, you turn back around to finish baking and get your dinner. After pulling the cookies out and setting them to cool you reheat your dinner for tonight.

Sitting down, plate in hand, you're just able to catch the shift into the next movie. Teen Wolf 1985 starring Micheal J. Foxx. Not a scary movie by any means but you keep it in the storage drive for rainy days. And even though today isn't raining you think it'll be a good watch.

You can not believe how utterly painful that was to have just watched. It was so average that it might as well not had the werewolf aspect at all! The acting was average, makeup was ok for the time, but the writing was just the worst. And the ending basket ball scene? It felt like a cheesy early 2000s Disney Channel original movie. You're pretty sure if you combined several Disney movies you'd have that exact plot. Hell Don't Look Under the Bed was scarier than that, and it was a better story too.

Checking the time you see you have about the average length of a Disney Channel movie before you have to leave. Good because you really want to watch Don't Look Under the Bed now. Switching over to your Disney+ account you find said movie and rush to put everything up as it runs through the beginning credits. With cookies packed away and the containers stacked and ready you plop back on your couch to immerse yourself in the early 2000s “horror”.

Just as the hand comes from under the bench to caress Fran a knock rings through your home, effectively startling you. Your eyes shift over to your front door, it's nearly eight thirty on a Saturday who or what is all this far out? Getting up from the couch you make your way over to your door, unlike every horror movie you have your phone and contacts pulled up and ready to dial. Phone behind your back and thumb hovering over Hollis' contact you open the door. Where three figures greet you.

Tim stands in front of the other two, dressed in dark jeans a gray tank top and red flannel with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Brian stands behind him and to his right, he's wearing regular jeans and an olive v-neck. Jesus fucking Christ is it 2012 and no one told you? Toby off to Tim's left is in black jeans a black t-shirt with a green short sleeve button up that has a little alien head pattern. Well, they don't look like they're here to murder you with an ax, so you move the hand from behind your back and let it rest by your side.

Missing the two tense gazes as you move the appendage.

“...Um, hi?” what would normal people do in this situation? Was this even a normal situation to find yourself in, what with three men you've just met at your front door.

Tim seems to be looking for his words, he must be out of his element as well. On the other hand Brian seems content to let Tim flounder around for a bit, all the while Toby wrings his hands together. You can't tell if it's from nerves or his tics.

“Hey..uh, so you mentioned Saturday Dead. But we're new so..and we..” Tim is even worse with human interaction than you are.

“We were wondering if 'stop it' if you wanted to ride with us and give us directions.”

Oh that makes sense.

“Yea sure thing, c'mon in. I'll go get ready.”  You give the men some space to enter your home. Then lead them to your living room,

“Make yourselves comfy.” you say as you leave them to change.

Once in your room you lock the door, although you believe you have a good reading on Toby to not be the type you can't be too safe around new men.  You opt to change into the first shirt you grab from your closet, black t-shirt with several flatwoods monsters on it along with the phrase 'squad goals' and a pair a black joggers. Perfectly comfy for a chill movie night at the crypt.

“That was fast.” is the first thing you hear when you reenter the living room.

Toby had no problems making himself comfortable in your home, since he is sitting on the couch, seemingly watching the movie with your fidget cube in hand. Brian and Tim, on the other hand, were leaning on the wall separating the living room and kitchen.

“What d'you mean?” you asked Tim confused, tilting your head to the side.

“Well, uh” he seems embarrassed by this for some reason, “women normally take a long time changing is all.” Ooooooh now you get it he's a misogynist.

The room goes quiet with Tim's stupid opinion. Toby ceases all fidgeting, Brian however looks as though he's a cat that caught a canary. He must enjoy the pain and embarrassment of others, the dick.

“Mmmh I don't think that's true,” you'll let this one slide but Tim's on thin ice, “Anyway I'm not a woman. I'm trans agender.” Tim has the decency to look embarrassed for stuffing his foot into his mouth. But it isn't really his fault you never mentioned your pronouns or lack of gender to him, and you mix and match your masculine and feminine days. Understandably you won't blame him for not knowing your pronouns but that misogynistic comment will still be marked as a red flag.

“I am so sorry.” and he truly does sound sorry for the slip up.

You shake your head and shoo away his apology, “It's good, you didn't know.”

“We ready to go?” you ask looking around the room. Tim and Toby nod, the younger man moving off the couch to stand with you all when Brian speaks up.

“Actually, Toby don't you have to use the restroom?” Said man pauses on his way over to your little group, “No.” voice laced with confusion and irritation.

Tim jumps in with a stern, “I really think you should.” Toby cuts his eyes at Tim and Brian.

As weird as it is for one grown man to tell another to go to the bathroom, let alone two grown men, you quickly remember Toby's CIPA.

“Dude the drive itself is gonna be nearly an hour plus the two hour movie. The Cryptonomica only has one bathroom and like thirty people will be there tonight.” You assumed you'd also get a glare for insisting on the matter. But you only get Toby's furrowed brow in response and he looks uncomfortable right now, not intimidating. He's probably embarrassed that his new acquaintance...friend? Is also present for the topic of his bathroom habits.

With another glare to Tim and Brian, Toby pushes past you and down the hallway. Normally this would leave you in an awkward situation but thankfully you have escape tasks!

Marching over to the entertainment center you turn off the TV. Spotting your fidget cube on the table where Toby left it, you decide to pocket it just in case he'd want to use it for the movie.

A loud thud startles you and you look up to see Tim picking up a few books that fell from the bookshelf.

'Weird...' you think as you watch him place them back onto the shelf they fell from.

“A...sorry.” as he places them back you notice one side of the shelf is tilted downwards. It must've just lost that little nub that holds the shelf up in that corner. You probably have a few spares floating around in one of your trinket holders.

You give Tim a small 'it's fine' as you pass him on your way to the kitchen. Cookies all set on the counter you go over to your fridge and grab the popcorn bag off the top. Opening the fridge and retrieving the Surge for Kirby you are all set on your snacks for tonight.

Placing the Surge and popcorn on top of your cookie containers you go back to the living room to join the boys in waiting for Toby. Who is already coming out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his jeans....He knows you had a towel for that right?

“We should be good to leave now.” Brian says turning from Toby to you.

“Ok yea, after you guys.” you side stepped  back into the kitchen doorway to let the men pass you.

“Want some help?” Toby asked as he walked closer. And as much as you wanted to say no you had it, you really didn't want to drop the Surge and have a big mess everywhere.

Nodding to him, thinking he was just going to take the things at the top or even the top container with them. Toby reaches out and barely brushes your hands at the bottom before taking the entire load into his own arms.

It felt like someone rubbed sandpaper across your knuckles and fingers where his hands touched. The burning sensation persisted even long after his hands had moved away.

It's the first time you've gotten bad vibes from Toby's touch. He's probably in a bad mood, his touch hasn't held much intention before but this hurts. Or you could totally be reading too much into this with too little sleep and you just aren't having a tactile day. You never have tactile days really just small windows where if someone is lucky they can squeeze a pat on the shoulder or a high five out of you.

“Hey, that's not helping.” you call out following the men out of your home.

“It's not?” he asks, “Then what is it?” why's he have to sound so smug about this.

“Condescending.” Toby blinks in surprise at the no nonsense tone of your voice.

You weren't harsh with your words...at least you don't think so. You were just stern in how you said them, wanting to get your point across.

Turning from the men you lock your door and check twice to make sure. When you turn back to face them you grab the top two containers of cookies, and subsequently the popcorn and Surge laying atop it, from Toby.

“This is helping. I could do this much at least.” Toby nods dumbly as you pass them and make your way to the cars.

“We can take ours, we'll drive you back.” Tim says unlocking their little sedan.

That seems fine, after all if you ended up wanting to stay later Kirby would totally let you crash on the couch in the basement and take you home in the morning. Or whenever he woke up tomorrow. And that way you wouldn't be keeping the boys too late. It is their first Saturday Night Dead and first time meeting most of the young adults in town. The night was bound to get draining.

You agree and hop into the back seat on the driver's side, Toby sliding in from the opposite side, leaving Brian to take the passenger seat and Tim to drive. You and Toby place the cookies in the middle seat and you thank him for his help. He quickly nods and looks out the window, knee starting to bounce slightly.

“Where am I going?” Tim asked as you all got buckled in.

“Ok, so we can either drive all the way through town or drive through the forest and across the river.”

“Which is faster?” Brian chimes in as Tim bristles.

“Forest.” You do catch Tim's reflection rolling his eyes at your reply.

To be fair with this group you wouldn't chance getting stuck in the forest on your way to a horror movie night. Like that's kind of a horror movie cliché right there. You and Toby are young enough that you're sure someone would mistake you two for late teens, in fact you know it's happened to you several times in the past week alone. While you're fine going into the forest at night by yourself it's only because horror movies don't center around one person dying in a forest by some ancient entity.

'But they do start that way.' that thought almost makes you want to cut back on your nightly hikes, unfortunately you have no other coping mechanisms for your insomnia other than hiking or driving. So you'll ignore that thought for now.

The car is quiet as everyone waits for someone to respond. Toby's knee bouncing is more obvious as it begins to jostle the car. He's also staring down at his hands, still red from his picking yesterday, wringing them together. Clearly the stationary car is getting to him, he breaks the silence.

“Will someone fucking say something?”

“Sorry,” you say gently to him, “Yea we can just go through town. Tim do you know where Whistle's Auto is?”

“Uh yea,” you catch his quick glance towards Toby in the rear view mirror.

“Cool just head in that direction and keep on Highland Street.”

That's all you had to say before Tim was shifting gears and driving off. You notice quickly that he's a faster driver than Toby was. It's yet to be seen if that should make you uneasy, you'll have to see how well he breaks.

When you guys had made it through town and Tim came to a stop in front of a sign proudly stating 'Welcome to the Cryptonomica' they were understandably concerned by the lack of a building or any other cars. You get out of the car and grab two of the cookie containers, when you made a grab for the other two and the snacks on top Toby kept them out of your reach and exited the car as well.

“So where is...everything?”

“Oh we have to hike. The shop's further in the forest.” you say as you walk on past Tim.

“You said people were gonna be here.” Brian chimes in.

Right this now looks like you have dragged them to a parking lot in the middle of no where in a small town that they don't really know people in. Great going YN. Way to look like the bait for a weird cult looking for sacrifices.

“Yea the Hornets. They're the local “biker” gang.” the stunt group probably had the dirt bikes out today, it was nice enough for it.

Understandably the men hesitated before following you. Toby was the one who quickly caught up with you, perks of longer legs, and matched your speed to the shop. It didn't even take five minutes before you saw the shop and a few Hornets out front smoking or just plain loitering.

A chorus of “YN!” “Hey we missed you last week.” “Yo, did you hear..” rang through as you greeted the group. Upon seeing the containers of cookies the chorus was replaced with cheers and you were given excited praise as they made way for the four of you to be let in. So embarrassing, you flush under the praise getting a little energy boost from it as well. Your mood however changes when you lock eyes with the person running the booth tonight. Keith Warren, second in command and assistant manager of the Hornets. Despite having no beef and all the same friends you two have never clicked. It's almost your thing to be completely rude to each other when you do interact.

“Warren.”

“LN” his disdain is clear too, “Ten dollars bucket.” he hadn't even looked at you the jerk!

“Forty tonight, brought friends.” you placed the containers you had on the table as you dug the money from your wallet to pay for you all.

Keith does look up at that, literally the only time more locals come in is during Halloween when they want to get into the spooky season. So he's surprised to see three new faces attending Saturday Night Dead.

“Hey there, name's Keith.” you roll your eyes as he introduces himself to the group, you'll just slip away now since you already paid.

“Rude!” Kieth calls out, “Small talk!” you respond. You vaguely hear the rest of the introductions and Keith waving off the guys when they try to pay again. Oh maybe you should have actually told them you'd pay for their tickets, you thought it was obvious you invited them and they even drove you here. It's just polite that you cover their tickets this week.

Soon Toby is back by your side, you have a feeling you won't be able to loose him tonight if you tried, as you walk through the shop and towards the trap door in the back. The trap door that leads to the panic room converted into movie theater on Saturdays. Once you get down you bee line for the table in the back that is already half filled with snacks and some sodas. With Toby still following you he copies your moves of opening the containers and placing them on the table. You take the Surge and popcorn away from Toby, throwing the popcorn over in the direction of your corner seat and bring the Surge over to the man working on the white screen set up.

“Present.” Kirby pays no mind to you as he struggles with the screen. So you wait silently for him to just kick the thing and move on. Like clockwork Kirby kicks the bottom cover and the rest unravels perfectly.

“I need to replace this.” he says, just like he does every week.

“Oooh thank you.” he grabs the battery acid marketed as a beverage and spirits off. Weird guy.

“That's Kirby, he runs this place. Normally very chill but between the Picnic and movie night he ….just needs a break.” it's the nicest way you can put it. Toby just nods and scans the room wringing his hands together uncomfortably. You've noticed he hasn't ticced once since leaving the car, maybe he's suppressing them despite how anxious he clearly is.

Doing your own scan of the room you see that Tim and Brian haven't made their way in yet, Keith probably talking their ears off. Better them than you, you suppose. You're about to ask Toby if he wants to find them when the local power couple walks in.

“Party starting soon my dudes sit tight!” Jake announces as he and Hollis walk in to take their usual seats.

“Op spoke too soon babe, YN's here.” Hollis let out a chuckle when you rolled your eyes.

“Came without a soap box, hope cookies are suitable.”

And both are already grabbing a few of your mini cookies before they've even sat down. You really are glad you made them. Remembering Toby's with you, you introduce him to your friends.

“Tobais these are my friends Jake,” the blonde smiles warmly, “and Hollis.” They cover their mouth and toss a peace sign up as their mouth is still full. “And this is my friend Tobais.” he raises a hand to greet them.

“Hey, you're the new guy over at Auto right? You fixed Katrina's bike up quicker than Lewis ever does.” When Toby nods Hollis continues, “Man she's been saying how much smoother it rides now. Think I can stop by this week and get you to take a look at mine?”

“Yea, that should be fine.” and with that the two began to talk shop, literally. They just started talking about Hollis' bike. Normally all the Hornets do their own maintenance on their bikes but their motorcycles still need inspections and what not. This is really working out for you, your friends all getting along.

Thankfully it seems the topic calms Toby down a little, and you can see a head twitch or two make it's appearance as the two speak. Hollis being the chill person they are, and being used to your own brand of tics, makes no comment or acknowledgment of his tics.

Jake pulls you into a conversation about plans for a hang out at H2Woah that was fun, later after all the picnicing was done. Said he wanted to try surfing in the wave pool, you aren't sure about it but you agreed you'd teach him at least the basics of surfing if he taught you how to snow board. Didn't take much for the deal to be sealed.

Tim and Brian finally made their way down to the basement and you raised a hand so they could find you and Toby. Really it wouldn't have been too difficult but with everyone starting to pack in you didn't want anyone to be out of the group. Introductions had been made and everyone took to their seats.

You were already in the corner opening your popcorn when Toby sat down on your left blocking you from the rest of the room. Thinking on it if Toby wanted to eat he'd probably be too self conscious of his scar to take his mask off.

“Hey...actually would you mind if we switched?” he just gave you a lazy look before standing up and letting you scoot into his previous spot before sitting down in your spot. This way you could in theory block the view of his scar later.

You notice how his eyes dart in the room, despite Brian and Tim being just behind you two Toby still seemed on edge in the space. He has looked a bit uncomfortable all night, maybe that's why he was sticking to your side. You're way less outgoing than Brian is and Tim seems content to let him do his own thing. You feel bad, like you pressured him into coming and now he's paying for it. Toby looks a few minutes away from ripping the skin around his nails off again and you don't want a repeat of that.

“Here.” you whisper as the lights go off, handing Toby the cube from your pocket.

It's a quiet moment between you two as the trailers of the DVD play out and Toby focuses in on the cube. You note how he gravitates to the marble and joystick sides the most, always moving his thumb across each in a counterclockwise motion before reversing for a beat. Counter counter switch counter counter switch counter counter counter switch.

Once he found his rhythm with the toy you see tension leave his shoulders a little. Is he even able to feel the tension in his muscles?

You shift focus to the screen as the opening credits play out. And if you weren't sitting so close to Toby you'd missed the clucking sound coming from him. Knowing he'd get more anxious about his tics in this “quiet” setting you opt to ignore them and focus on the movie. After all the more relaxed he is the less likely he is to tic meaning the less anxious he is and more he can enjoy himself tonight.

About a third of the way through the movie you catch Toby sliding his mask off one ear, letting it shield his scarred cheek, and grabbing a handful of popcorn. You can't hide the giddy grin on your face from the action. To say you were worried about Toby not enjoying tonight was an understatement. But he had to have felt some comfort to slide his mask off in public, right? Your reassurance comes in the form of another handful of popcorn, as Toby pays no mind to you and only to the demon currently dancing on the screen.

With a terrible movie playing and a less anxious friend at your side you settle down a bit more yourself. Barely noticing when your head falls on Toby's shoulder as you slip into unconsciousness.

You wake up to the roaring of Kirby's snores and popcorn in your hair. A typical Sunday morning for you since arriving in Kepler.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break, ch. 16

Relationships: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī & Wēn Qíng, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Wēn Qíng, Wēn Níng | Wēn Qiónglín, Granny Wēn, Lán Yuàn | Lán Sīzhuī, Wēn Remnants, Wen Meilin (OC), Fourth Uncle, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Jiang Yanli, Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secrets, Crying, Masks, Soulmates, Truth, Self-Esteem Issues, Regret, It was supposed to be a one-shot, Fix-It, Eventual Relationships, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, wwx needs a hug, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Filial Piety, Handfasting, Phobias, Sleeping Together, Fear, Panic Attacks, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Family, and they were married, Bathing/Washing, Hair Braiding, Hair Brushing, Feels, Sex Education, Implied Sexual Content, First Time, Aftercare, Morning After, Afterglow, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Hand Jobs, Chronic Pain, Biting, Conversations, Self-Sacrifice, POV Third Person, POV Lan WangJi

Summary: The Jiang siblings visit the Burial Mounds. Feels are had.

Warning: Involves bugs as food. For Notes, see end.

AO3 link

Chapters:  1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

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

Lan Wangji is unsurprised, and somewhat relieved, when Wen Qing takes one look at Wei Ying upon their return to the Burial Mounds and tells him to go take a nap with A-Yuan.

His husband had already been swaying dangerously in the Yiling market when they had bought supplies, and had tried to insist Jiang Yanli ride in the cart while he walk, though he had quickly been overruled when Wen Ning, of all people, pointed out they could both ride comfortably if someone had a qiankun pouch for their purchases. Jiang Wanyin had pulled one from his sleeve, one that seemed oddly full, and Wen Ning helped place their purchases in it.

“Get in the damn cart, moron,” the Jiang sect leader said when Wei Ying hesitated.

“A-Xian, come ride with me,” Jiang Yanli coaxed, taking his arm and steering him to it herself.

Wei Ying was exhausted enough to fall asleep on her shoulder, despite the bumpy ride, on the way back, A-Yuan snuggled in his sister’s arms. He doesn’t look particularly refreshed when they have to wake him.

Despite his exhaustion, Wei Ying still tries to argue against a nap, eying his siblings, clearly considering their visit more important than his health. Lan Wangji finds his disregard for his own well-being concerning, but is well aware it isn’t unusual, just something they need to break him of. 

“I told them,” he says. “In town. I bet they have questions, and—”

“I can answer their questions, Wei Wuxian!” she cuts in. “I performed the surgery, after all. You’re delegating the task to me and going to take a nap before I bring out the needles—don’t think I won’t knock you out.”

The mention of her needles clearly cows him, but he still seems hesitant. 

“It’s our turn to take care of things,” Jiang Wanyin says, not looking at him. “You’ve done enough, Wei Wuxian.”

“More than enough,” Jiang Yanli murmurs, and reaches forward to pull him into a gentle hug. “Let us take care of our A-Xian, hm?”

Wei Ying seems frozen for a moment in the embrace, but relaxes into it. Lan Wangji can see him tremble as he hugs her back, and he knows, for the moment, they’ve won. It’s a small triumph, but at this point he’ll take it. 

“Okay, shijie,” he says finally. “Xianxian will take a nap with Yuanyuan.”

She lets him go and pats his cheek in a way that reminds Lan Wangji of his mother when he was very young. 

A-Yuan insists on giving his guma a hug before he lets Wei Ying take his hand and lead him toward the cave. 

“Go with him,” Wen Qing insists, to his surprise. 

It must show somehow, because she sighs. 

“I told you when you came: you take care of him. That’s your job. I’ll take care of this—I wrote Jiang-guniang, after all.”

Lan Wangji nods, privately relieved his presence isn’t required for this conversation. He bows to each of them before leaving, including Wen Qing as a thank you even though it makes her huff in embarrassment. 

As he takes longer strides to catch up with Wei Ying, he can hear Jiang Yanli speak to Wen Qing in a sweet voice that is likely terrifying up close in how it utterly fails to hide her ferocious protectiveness of her beloved adoptive brother—he mentally wishes Wen Qing luck. 

He picks up A-Yuan and gets a startled glance from Wei Ying, who is not quite to the point of barely standing, but close enough that Lan Wangji wraps his free arm around him to steady him as they make their way to the cave. 

A-Yuan babbles sleepily about having a new aunt and uncle, having been largely unaffected by the tension in town, and before long they’re both tucked in. Wei Ying doesn’t bother removing his boots, so Lan Wangji does it for him. 

Before he can rise, Wei Ying reaches out for him, his eyes half-lidded as he’s already being pulled toward sleep, in what Lan Wangji recognizes as a plea for him to stay, to sit on the bed and let him be close as he sleeps. After the stress of the afternoon on his husband, he is happy to oblige, happy Wei Ying would ask, even silently, for his support. 

“I will stay,” he tells him, settling beside him on the bed, letting Wei Ying tuck close and use his thigh as a pillow. 

Not to be left out, A-Yuan clambers over them and settles curled between them against Wei Ying’s stomach, his face pressed into the front of his robe as he falls asleep. Lan Wangji draws the blanket up over both of them.

He has used the table near the bed both as a desk and to play the guqin, so it is no trouble to carefully stack the papers next to the bed and slide the inkstone back so he can pull out Wangji.

Wei Ying lets out a soft sigh, the tension leaving his body, as he starts ‘WuJi.’ The song has been a comfort to his husband, he knows, when he himself failed to be, and he hopes to soon work on a new song, something that will capture the joy he finds in their marriage. The circumstances in which they and the people Wei Ying rescued live are less than ideal, and he wishes he could take him from this place of darkness and the memories of the horror he still cannot speak of, but they are together, and that is much preferable to being alone in the Cloud Recesses. 

Before long, Wei Ying is asleep, and he segues into songs of cleansing and healing. Without a golden core, without Wen Qing’s needles, the latter has little impact—but little isn’t none, and he is still recovering. Every little bit helps, and after the stress of the day, he helps the only way he can, aside from serving as Wei Ying’s pillow. 

He loses himself in the music, coming close to a meditative state as he plays. Time passes like sand through fingers before he hears hesitant steps enter the cave. 

Lan Wangji pauses in his playing, recognizing two sets of footsteps, one the shuffling gait of Wen Ning, and the other softer. He is unsurprised when Jiang Yanli is the second set. 

He is also unsurprised to see her face wet with tears. 

Wen Ning offers her a short bow, then hefts the bathtub from their alcove as he does daily, kindly bringing fresh water and herbs for Wei Ying to use at night. He nods to him in thanks. 

Jiang Yanli returns Wen Ning’s bow, and his esteem of her rises—many failed to give that respect to him in life, and more would likely refuse to now that he is a corpse, spiritual conscious or not. But Wei Ying’s sister recognizes him as he is: family. 

Though the reverberation of the strings has ceased, the motion of stilling them is a comfort to Lan Wangji as he waits for her to speak. She watches her brother sleep for a while. 

“Wen-guniang… She said he’s in pain,” she finally says. 

Lan Wangji nods to confirm. 

“That he’s been in pain since— since the war, and we didn’t…”

More tears spill down her cheeks, and he knows if Wei Ying were awake he would spring to comfort her. 

“He hid it,” he tells her softly. “You could not have known.”

She makes a sound that is almost pained. 

“I raised him. I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t—“

Jiang Yanli presses her fist against her mouth. 

“I led him to believe I disdained him and wished for him to be punished,” Lan Wangji says.

His failure to communicate had led to the strain of their relationship, to the point where Wei Ying had questioned whether he was still his zhiji, and he will forever regret letting him walk away into the darkness and rain even after that. He empathizes with her completely.

She is silent for a while before she nods.

“Wen-guniang has an idea,” she says. “She said Zewu-Jun pointed out that there is a life debt among our generation. The six of us, A-Xuan, and Nie Huaisang. An auspicious eight. Swearing brotherhood… It could protect A-Xian, and the people here.”

Xiongzhang had hinted at it, and Lan Wangji is glad Wen Qing is furthering the possibility.

“It would tie together the four sects, and the remnants of the Dafan Wen,” he adds, thinking aloud. 

“A-Cheng pointed out that the lotus blossom has eight petals,” she says, smiling wistfully. “He and A-Xian used to talk about being the Twin Prides of Yunmeng. It seems almost like a sign.”

Lan Wangji is struck silent at the idea; the eight auspicious signs are almost sacred, and the imagery would be iconic. The imagery was prevalent at temples—the eternal wheel of life, the endless knot, the conch, the parasol, the lotus… 

The noble eightfold path, an expansion of the threefold way.

Almost implying an expansion of the Venerated Triad, and associating Wei Ying with the noble path regardless of his cultivation.

“Apt,” he says when he finally finds his voice.

“I’ll talk to A-Xuan,” she says, her voice distant. “I know he and A-Xian didn’t get off on the right foot, but he knows I love my didi.”

“Xiongzhang is bringing Chifeng-Zun and Nie Huaisang to see the settlement after your wedding,” Lan Wangji tells her. “I am certain Wen Qing will broach the topic of a sworn brotherhood with them then.”

Jiang Yanli sways slightly, and he panics for a moment; if he needs to move to catch her, it will jostle and wake Wei Ying, and he needs the rest. But she steadies herself, and he is able to gesture to a chair instead, and she takes a seat.

“Hanguang-Jun, since you are my brother’s husband, I wondered if I might call you A-Zhan.”

The request to use his birth name surprises him—xiongzhang had only requested to call Wei Ying by his courtesy name—but she seems earnest about wanting to welcome him to the family. 

“Of course. May I call you… A-Li?”

A smile blossoms across her face, and she nods, looking pleased. 

Then Wei Ying murmurs in his sleep and their attention snaps to him. Lan Wangji strokes his hair gently, letting his fingers brush his scalp in a way he knows soothes him. He settles almost instantly, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. 

Jiang Yanli, when he next looks up, is watching with a bittersweet look on her face. 

“I used to do that for him,” she says softly, “when he had nightmares. Until he started hiding them.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t know what to say, so only nods. He understands her sense of helplessness, knowing Wei Ying is adept at hiding his pain, would still be hiding it if not for having pulled his wrist away a second too late. 

“I wish he was coming to my wedding,” she confesses, her voice breaking. “He belongs there. But they’d try to kill him.”

He cannot disagree with either statement. Wei Ying should be there, as one of her last remaining family members, even if he did not share her blood, but it would never be permitted. Not now. Not until the plan xiongzhang implied to Wen Qing is put into motion.

But by then she will be married, the wedding over, and Wei Ying will not have been permitted to attend.

“You have done what you can to include him,” he tells her, hoping to soothe her. “He did not expect this much.”

It seems to have the opposite effect, tears lining her cheeks again.

“He never expects anything of us,” she whispers. “Mother made him feel undeserving, like he should feel grateful for any scrap. I try not to hate her for it, but…”

Lan Wangji can understand how she feels, has seen the marks from Zidian on Wei Ying, still healing when he gave his core to his brother, something he has probably hidden from his sister even through everything. And he knows Wei Ying feels he deserves those marks, believing the fall of Lotus Pier to be of his doing. The emotional damage goes far deeper. 

“We can only assure him he deserves more,” he says after a moment. “And be sure to give it to him.”

He has been trying to do so, but it never feels like enough to make up for abandoning him at Qiongqi Path, for failing to join him on the righteous path, even if it is the single-plank one, for making his zhiji believe he reviled him. He understands how Jiang Yanli feels—though perhaps she feels it more deeply, or at least differently, as the person who basically raised him. 

Footsteps approach from the cave entrance, Wen Ning with the tub filled with fresh water, something he has insisted upon doing since it was purchased. At some point during each day, he cleans and fills it, even preparing a fresh sachet of herbs to help Wei Ying recover. Truthfully, even with Lan Wangji’s arm strength he doubts he could lift it as easily as the fierce corpse is able, and he is grateful for his thoughtfulness. 

“Than—thank you for waiting, Jiang-guniang,” he says after setting it down. “Popo is waiting to help us in the k-kitchen with preparing dinner.”

Jiang Yanli favors him with a smile. 

“Thank you, Wen-gongzi.”

“Ah, you c-can just call me Wen Ning,” he says, looking flustered as he often does when people offer respect to him. 

“Then you must call me Jiang Yanli.”

Wen Ning looks like he might protest, but she turns to Lan Wangji before he can, dipping into a proper and respectful bow. 

“A-Zhan, thank you for taking care of A-Xian. It is…”

Her voice cracks, emotions nearly overcoming her again. It takes her a moment to recover. 

“It is a relief to know someone else is here for him when I cannot be. I entrust him to your care.”

The formality, Lan Wangji realizes, is her approval of their union. Warmth spreads through him at her acceptance. 

“However,” she says, a slight smile on her face that is also somehow fierce. “I think you will agree with me that A-Xian deserves a real wedding, at Lotus Pier, as soon as it is possible.”

The image of Wei Ying sitting on a bed in Nightless City in his red underrobes, the joy of his waking mixing with the wish they were wedding robes… that Jiang Yanli wants to ensure they receive that, that their union can be celebrated, if belatedly, in the way Wei Ying deserves to be honored. 

“Yes,” he says softly. “I agree.”

She nods, clearly pleased.

“It will happen, A-Zhan; I’ll make sure of it.”

Lan Wangji has absolutely no doubt she will. 

She leaves with Wen Ning, and he remembers her intention to cool the soup Wei Ying so loves for the settlement. It will be a welcome meal for them all.

Though he could resume playing, Lan Wangji opts to sink into a meditative state instead, waiting. He doesn’t need to wait long, as footsteps that are almost stomps approach and enter the cave.

He is ready to stare at Jiang Wanyin disapprovingly, but the steps hesitate, becoming uncertain, on the way to the alcove. 

“He’s still resting,” Lan Wangji says before he can speak. 

Jiang Wanyin’s face does something strange, going soft for a moment as he gazes at his brother and nephew, the top of A-Yuan’s head just visible poking out from beneath the blanket. Then his expression shutters.

“He needs the rest, then?” he asks.

“Mn. He is recovering. He also was giving most of his food to A-Yuan before I arrived. He is finally eating properly.”

The muscles in the Jiang sect leader’s jaw clench, working as though he’s stopping himself from saying something—or, more likely, yelling.

“He always gives too much,” Jiang Wanyin says finally. 

Lan Wangji nods; he agrees with that assessment. 

“I want to bring him back to Lotus Pier.”

The announcement is unexpected, and he reconsiders his assessment of the man. 

“He will not leave these people.”

“I know that. The Wens too, of course.”

“They do not wish to be known as Wens,” Lan Wangji tells him, and watches Wei Ying sleep for a moment to be certain he won’t hear before continuing. “I believe they hope to take on Wei as a family name. They have not broached the subject with Wei Ying yet.”

Jiang Wanyin sits heavily in the chair his sister vacated, sighing. 

“He’ll do that thing. Where he belittles himself,” he says, his voice rough. “It’s like he believes all the awful things a-niang said about him.”

Because he does believe them, Lan Wangji is well aware. His anger at a dead woman is unbecoming, but it will likely never fade. She trained Wei Ying to see himself as worthless, as a charity case, when he was one of the best cultivators of their generation. Even without his core, he was still inventing tools to help the cultivation world that slanders and wishes him dead. 

“Not that I’m much better. He’s my brother and I fucking abandoned him,” Jiang Wanyin mutters. “And I accused him of abandoning me, on top of it. When—when he left a big piece of himself with me to protect me.”

It occurs to Lan Wangji that perhaps both Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli suffered their own childhood traumas associated with bad parenting, that this is perhaps just a variation of that which has led Wei Ying down his path of self-destruction through giving too much, through not valuing himself. His own troubled upbringing led him to value his clan and the Lan rules over his zhiji, to believe his identity must be tied up in being a perceived paragon of Lan virtue above all else. Theirs led to Wei Ying’s isolation as well. 

“You had no way of knowing,” he says. “Now that you know, you are trying to help him.”

What they do now does not absolve them of their wrongs, but it is a start. 

Jiang Wanyin’s jaw clenches again, then releases when he sighs. 

“I can’t undo the shitty stuff I said to him. You’ll come to Lotus Pier with him, right?”

“Of course,” Lan Wangji says, surprised that’s in question. “He’s my husband.”

He receives a nod in response.

“He’ll need bigger quarters, then, for you and A-Yuan. I could give him a-niang’s old quarters, but I don’t know if he’d want to live where she did. He deserves them as my head disciple, so maybe if I remodel them…”

Jiang Wanyin seems to be thinking out loud. 

“Wei Ying is still your head disciple?” he asks, having not realized. 

“Yeah,” Jiang Wanyin says, then grimaces. “I never took him off the register. Kicking him out was for show, because he insisted. He never stopped being head disciple, but he probably doesn’t realize that.”

He likely doesn’t, knowing Wei Ying. Wei Ying, who still believes himself responsible for the fall of Lotus Pier, for the deaths that were a part of it. Even being head disciple, there will be much he cannot do, lacking a golden core. 

“I can help with his duties,” Lan Wangji offers impulsively. 

Jiang Wanyin blinks at him, startled, then smiles in a way that makes him look painfully young.

“Appreciated. He’ll… Well, he’ll need help with some of it. At least until Wen Qing figures out a way to help him.”

Lan Wangji realizes the Jiang sect leader is still hoping there’s a solution, that Wei Ying will again achieve the impossible. 

“She’s going to make a list of things she’ll need to get started,” Jiang Wanyin continues. “And I’ll work to get ahold of them.”

A-Yuan stirs before Lan Wangji can reply. 

“Loud,” he murmurs. “A-Die sleeping, shhhh.”

He wriggles his way out from under the blanket, somehow managing not to disturb Wei Ying as he does, then crawls off the bed.

“Jiang-shushu loud.” 

His voice is pitched in an almost theatrical whisper, and Jiang Wanyin snorts in amusement. 

“Okay,” he whispers back, also theatrical. “Let’s leave your a-die to sleep and go find guma, then.”

A-Yuan glances back at Wei Ying, then at Lan Wangji, who nods encouragingly. Then he turns back to Jiang Wanyin and holds his arms up expectantly. 

Jiang Wanyin stands, pulling A-Yuan into his arms as he does. 

“I’ll watch the kid. It looks like everyone else is busy right now.”

Lan Wangji simply nods in response. A-Yuan chatters softly to his uncle as they make their way out of the cave, leaving him alone with Wei Ying.

Jiang Wanyin’s absence is a relief. He finds it difficult still not to resent him for his choice to abandon Wei Ying, for the fact that Wei Ying’s core now rests within him, even for his desperate hope that his brother will somehow heal enough to form a new one. In far too many ways, it’s not enough, just as anything Lan Wangji does now cannot make up for his own failures.

He reminds him of Wei Ying’s mortality, as unfair as that may be.

Resentment will help nothing, may even be exacerbated now by the Burial Mounds, so Lan Wangji works to focus instead on the sensation of Wei Ying’s hair against his fingers, the weight of his head on his thigh, his soft breaths, and he is eventually able to fall into a sort of meditation until Wen Qing comes to fetch them.

“Jiang-zongzhu set up the tablets for the adoption rites, so we can start with those,” she tells Wei Ying once he’s awake.

Wei Ying stares at her blearily for a moment.

“Adopting A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji prompts gently. 

Wen Qing gives him a disapproving look. 

“He’s very excited, and your siblings can serve as witnesses.”

“Right. Sorry. Been a long day,” Wei Ying murmurs, then glances at Lan Wangji. “It’s still today, right?”

Lan Wangji brushes a lock of hair back from his face. 

“Mm. You slept only a few hours.”

Wei Ying melts into his touch, and he leans forward to brush his lips against his forehead. Wen Qing clears her throat and drops a bundle on the bed.

“Your sister also made Jiang-zongzhu go back into town and buy nice clothing for you and A-Yuan for the adoption rites.”

She indicates the bundle.

“So hurry up and get changed. She cooked up a feast, and everyone’s hungry. I think she’s determined to give you a proper wedding banquet.”

Wen Qing, ever brusque, turns on her heel and leaves before either of them can respond.

Wei Ying opens the bundle on the bed, blinking at the high quality clothing. The fabric, at a glance, looks black, but has threadwork in a deep blue and purple. It sends a message from Jiang Wanyin: Wei Ying is of the Jiang sect still. A red underrobe, new zhong yi, a red silk hair ribbon embroidered with little pink lotuses, and even new boots complete the package.

“Aiya, Jiang Cheng… How can I wear these?”

“You were not removed from the sect registry. He insists you are still his head disciple. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying breathes, taking a heavy seat on the bed, clearly overwhelmed. 

Lan Wangji wonders if he should tell Wei Ying the rest—that Jiang Wanyin intends to bring everyone at Burial Mounds to Lotus Pier permanently when it is feasible. But he will leave that to the Jiang sect leader. 

Instead he opens his qiankun pouch and pulls out the light blue robes he arrived wearing, which he hasn’t worn in days. If dinner is in part for them, he should dress appropriately, as well.

Changing takes little time, though Lan Wangji has Wei Ying sit for his hair to be combed and put back in its crown, as it came loose as he slept. 

The entire settlement is waiting for them in the hall when they enter, and though only Wen Qing has seen an official adoption rite, she demurs from describing it. 

“It was Wen Zhuliu’s, so it feels like bad luck to copy it,” she says when pressed. 

None of them argue. 

“We should have seen an adoption rite,” Jiang Wanyin mutters. 

Wei Ying seems not to have heard, focused on A-Yuan. He takes the child’s hand and leads him to the space where someone has set up an altar with his parents’ tablets, complete with sticks of incense and food offerings: three cups holding tea, water, and Jifu’s fruit wine, plates with small stacks of oranges and sweets. A fire burns in a small brazier in front of the altar, a stack of joss paper set nearby. 

For a moment, Wei Ying is completely silent, looking at the altar as though struck. 

Jiang Yanli breaks the silence. 

“You’ve never been able to venerate them,” she murmurs.

Lan Wangji understands suddenly: there was no place set for Wei Ying’s parents’ tablets at Lotus Pier, and so his husband has never been able to properly pay them respects—cruel, given their bodies were never found to begin with. 

“Thank you, shijie.”

His voice is heavy with emotion, and he kneels and gestures to A-Yuan to do the same. 

Wei Ying keeps it simple, first apologizing for being unable to do his filial duty for them, kowtowing before them. A-Yuan copies him dutifully, and this receives smiles from the others. 

“A-Die, a-niang, I want to introduce my son to you, Wei Yuan. He may not share my blood, but he is your sunzi. I ask you to help me protect and guide him, if you are able. This one will do a better job honoring you in the future.”

He murmurs something to A-Yuan, who bows as best he can.

“Wei Yuan greets yeye and nainai. A-Yuan will burn joss and incense and clean your altar. A-Yuan promises to be filial.”

They light the incense using the brazier, then burn joss together, letting the paper fall into the flame piece by piece.

Lan Wangji longs to join them, to thank Wei Ying’s parents for bringing him into the world, and Wei Ying turns to him as though hearing those thoughts. When his husband gestures, he steps forward to take his place kneeling beside him. 

“A-Die, a-niang, I also want to introduce you to my husband,” Wei Ying says, blushing as though they’ve not been wed over a week. “We completed our bows, but not before your tablets.”

They bow together, three times again.

“Fuqin, muqin, thank you for Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, bowing one last time alone. “I promise to honor him, and to protect him and Wei Yuan.”

They burn the remaining joss together, as a family, before standing. 

Jiang Yanli rushes forward to hug Wei Ying, who pulls Lan Wangji and A-Yuan into it. There’s a warmth to it that he isn’t used to, his own family reserved, and it surprises him as much as xiongzhang’s hug did. 

“Ah, I have a new didi and an adorable zizhi!” she says happily, then pulls at their arms as she releases them from the embrace. “We prepared a nice meal to celebrate, come!”

The tables are covered in dishes, the serving bowls and platters clearly heated by talismans to keep the food at an ideal temperature. 

“The guests of honor fill their plates first,” popo says insistently, clicking her tongue when Wei Ying gestures for her to go ahead. “A-Xian is still too thin!”

Wei Ying startles at the affectionate address and she smiles and pats his arm. 

Lan Wangji steps forward first, recognizing the futility of refusing popo’s demand. There is a bowl with chili sauce on the table, likely Wei Ying’s favorite kind. The dishes range from the familiar—the lotus root and pork rib soup he was introduced to earlier in a huge tureen, braised pork belly with mushrooms and bok choy, tea eggs, fried radish cakes, baozi, cucumber salad, sautéed dock root and millet with Sichuan peppercorns that would make his mouth numb—to the unfamiliar. He recognizes noodles cooked with what looks like water spinach and shaved carrot, mixed with, upon closer look, crisp-fried silkworm pupae. 

He doesn’t realize Wei Ying is beside him until he makes an intrigued noise. 

“Where did we get those? Shijie, did you bring them?”

“A-Ning found a copse of mulberry a few nights ago,” Wen Qing tells them. “He brought the silkworm cocoons to the aunties to unwind so we can sell the silk. He harvested the berries, too.”

“We—we cooked them with d-dessert,” Wen Ning adds. 

Though he is aware that silkworm pupae are commonly sold at market when silk is harvested, Lan Wangji has never had occasion to try them. Despite the fact that silk is harvested by the GusuLan weavers and used in robes for the clan, the production is kept out of the Cloud Recesses because the cocoons are boiled to extract the intact silk, killing the pupae in the process, and killing any creature, even an insect, is prohibited within the bounds of the Cloud Recesses. Presumably the pupae are sold in Caiyi, but meat is not a staple in his home. 

But he was raised not to be a picky eater, and insects are a viable source of protein, something sorely needed by the people living here. Wei Ying seems content to serve himself and A-Yuan a large helping, so Lan Wangji does the same, placing a wide variety of dishes on his own plate to sample, but avoiding the chili sauce for the sake of his palate. 

“I put in fewer peppercorns than I usually do,” Jiang Yanli murmurs to him. “I know you like milder dishes.”

He nods his thanks, and lets her press a bowl of soup into his free hand. 

She follows him with two more to place before Wei Ying and A-Yuan, then pinches her brother’s cheek as though he’s a child. 

“Eat the whole plate, Xianxian, and then you’ll get dessert.”

He is quietly pleased when Wei Ying plays along with a bright smile. 

“But what if Xianxian wants more?”

She leans forward and kisses his brow like a mother might. 

“Xianxian can have as much as he wants. Popo and Wen Ning helped me cook plenty. And dessert is mulberry millet pudding sweetened with honey, so I know you’ll like it.”

Then she turns to A-Yuan and favors him with the same treatment. 

“You too. Eat plenty so you can grow big and strong.”

“A-Die plants me with the radishes so I will!” A-Yuan says proudly, and those within earshot laugh. 

Jiang Yanli’s laughter is not unlike the gentle ringing of the bells the Jiang sect wears at their belts. She turns to him, patting his shoulder affectionately. 

“A-Zhan as well. Your strength is important. More than three bowls if you want.”

The reference to the rules of the Cloud Recesses is nostalgic, but not in a painful way. It is more a reminder that he will now uphold the rules as he sees fit, now that his home is Wei Ying. 

They are surrounded by familiar chatter, the smell of food of a more quality fare than any at the Burial Mounds have had in some time, and the warmth of family. 

He hopes this can be the sort of happiness that awaits them for some time.

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

In my culture, generally we don’t eat insects/bugs and often find it intrinsically disgusting. I’ve never eaten insects/bugs. However, my biases are not applicable to the culture I am writing into. My understanding from friends is that there are many insects and arachnids commonly eaten in China. A close friend of mine has eaten ant eggs, grasshoppers, and other insects. Another has mentioned tacos that involve insects as a common ingredient in Mexico. In China, markets often have fried scorpions on a stick, grasshoppers, and many other insects as street food for purchase.

Given life on the Burial Mounds involves a lot of scraping by, I’d imagine some of their meals involve insects, which culturally wouldn’t be unusual. Likely if there were insects in the Burial Mounds, eating them helped Wei Wuxian survive them. They’d be an important source of protein.

While silkworm pupae are often fried in peanut oil and eaten on skewers or like nuts, from my research, my friend believed the dish I concocted in here was believable. (I also researched what the taste and texture is, but decided not to include it.) She also said the dessert of mulberry millet pudding is something eaten in southern China, which I didn’t know—I just knew it sounded like it’d be delicious.

In terms of the millet, meta discussions of MDZS have involved the fact that millet was likely more common (and less expensive) than rice at rough time of the setting, so I included that.

My friend was kind enough to read for cultural sensitivity regarding the auspicious eight, adoption rites, and ancestor veneration, so I hope they read well. This is a chapter I was particularly worried about because of the cultural aspects, and I hope it reads well.

[the-shsl-clown]

Danganronpa characters with one random headcannon (with a weird amount of medical shit)

Akane has the densest bones (a trait common among gymnasts)

Izurus guessing ability is technically about 33% his boredom stems from talent in inductive reasoning

If Twogami took on an identity that had a severely different accent they would have trouble going back to their usual one- accents come from the way your tongue sits in your mouth and/or the way your mouth is moving and one not occuring fully naturally makes the switch back and forth a bit difficulr

Chiaki probably needs/needed glasses to some extent

This is based purely on vibes- Mikan suffers from supination- a disorder where you walk and/or stand on your outer foot

Another that's more personal idea- Nekomaru suffers from having a flat foot- this means he has chronic lower leg pain and his feet and ankles tire easily. This is why he's more into managing rather than ever participating (every other sports manager I have ever met has played another sport during a different season- only managing? Kinda sus...)

Mondo's body is probably covered in road burn and other kinds of scarring- which is probably part of the reason he wore his uniform into the sauna- that sort of thing is really hard to show someone you see as a rival

Hajime has only ever passed geometry by the skin of his teeth

I feel like if Nagito got covid one less than 20- it would either be the straw to break the camels back on his lifespan or he'd be so immune they could use his blood to engineer a vaccine/treatment earning him a decent sum of money (as per usual)

Taka has scoliosis- it was mostly corrected when he was growing up- but it's part of why he stands up so straight and tends to bend at the waist- habit due to backbrace

Sayaka got mistaken as a snob a lot before her career really took off- she went of full vocal rest regularly and that means minimal or even no talking (I don't think Sayaka is a snob. But I definitely think she's a snake)

Toko is fully ambidextrous- however Syo only ever uses it to her advantage

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Important notes below the cut before chapter72 begins.  PLEASE READ.

***SORRY!***  I forgot to tell you all. A few days before last weeks vacay I did a smutty Julius one shot that I guess you could say is tied to this fic. While there’s not much plot to that one shot, I am planning a Masquerade Ball for the fall around Yami and Teris’ 19yr b.day. So I might have the events of ‘A Night With the Stag’ happen then and have Julius' disappearance noticed. Anyway, you can find ‘A Night With the Stag’ on the main dash of my ao3.

***FIC UPDATE***  Got some not so good news yesterday. Thanks to one of my 3-big chronic illness bad's munching away at my joints the Surgeon said he’d normally recommend joint replacement for my hands. But thanks to another of my big chronic baddies he wouldn't recommend it for me as it would cause further problems and pain in the long run.  For now I’m left with an up tick in my infusions ‘poison juice’ to hopefully stave off further damage. And therapy, bracing, and pain meds to help cope with the pain. What that means for this fic isn’t much at the moment since I’m so far ahead in writing. But with my typing having steadily slowed and the suggestive order not to tax my hands there may come a time when posting has caught up to where I am in writing. Which would mean this fic will become like my BNHA fics which is 'posting as I write', and you all will left waiting for updates. If that happens I’m really SORRY!

Chapter 72

Angry and impatient, Nozel entered Silva Castle.  The kingdom was still in disorder with bandits and thieves continuing to fight for supremacy within the Common and Forsaken Realms.  Even the Noble Realm was dealing with more criminal activity than usual.

“Father.” Nozel stopped to stand behind the man.

Directing a team of servants on the placement of several new acquisitions he had gotten for their palace home, Nathyn turned to his son.  “Nozel. Didn’t expect you so early.  I must admit I’m looking forward to the day we have a proper Lady Silva running our homes once again. Nebra is too self involved to be good at these types of things.”

Nathyn sighed thinking of his eldest daughter.  She would be fifteen soon. Nebra’s grimoire Acceptance Ceremony set not long after her birthday.  Come next Entrance Exams, in little under twelve months time, she would be joining Nozel as a Magic Knight in the Silver Eagles.  With Nebra residing at the Silver Eagles base, she would be Nozel’s responsibility and Nathyn would have one less thing to look after.

“Father, please.”

“What is it?”  Nathyn questioned shortly, his thoughts interrupted.

“Must we really go on with this?  The war has only just ended.”  Nozel said.

“Four days ago.”  Nathyn stated, as if that was long enough for everything to be righted.

“All the squads have a back log of missions and with--”

“That’s the Magic Knights problem.”  Nathyn said, dismissed his sons words.

“I am a Magic Knight.  Teris and I both.  And Julius is a Captain.”

Nathyn fully focused on his son and reminded.  “You are royalty first. This is more than just celebrating your Intended’s birthday.  Not that you shouldn’t insist we continue with that.  But there are Peace Parties to attend.  The people are happy this war was short and is over.  They wish to celebrate you for securing that peace.  The King wishes to honor you.”  He looked proudly at his heir.  “You did good, and should take these next few days to relax and enjoy the fruits of your success.”  His face sharpened.  “I insist.”

Knowing this was a battle he couldn’t win Nozel inclined his head and submitted.  “I’m glad to have pleased you, Father.”

“As am I.  Now go make ready.  The Nova’s will be arriving within the hour.”

72.2

Julius looked mournfully at his sister.  “Teris, I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

Trepidation growing, Teris realized that Julius was serious.  He was sending her off to Silva Castle to spend three days with them and Fyntch, and he wasn’t coming.  “You’re really going to make me go there alone? Without you?”

“The Vermilion's will be in residence at Vermillion Castle across the lawn.  You can seek refuge there.”  Julius offered.

Teris stared at him in disbelief.  “Three days, Julius.  You’re going to leave me alone in Silva Castle with Fyntch and the Silva’s for three whole days.”

“It’s no worse than spending the time with them at Nova House or Silva Manor.”  Julius reasoned.

“Yes it is!  You truly know nothing do you?  You’ve had it so easy being a man and the eldest at that.”

“I’ve had my share of familial duties and expectations forced upon me.” Julius rebutted, thinking she was being unfair and bratty.

“That you threw off.”  Teris countered.

“Watch it.”  Julius warned, expression turning from supplicating to stern.

Teris growled and spun away.  “Fine.  Leave me to those wolves.  But don’t come down on me when I make a mess and make matters worse.”

“You’ll only be making matters worse for yourself.  Can’t you see that? I’m trying to protect you.  That’s all I’ve ever tried to do with this mess.”

Teris turned back to him, eyes pleading.  “If that were true you’d come.”

Julius looked sympathetically at her. “I would if I could. You know what it’s been like.  There’s so much work to do.  I’m so overtired I don’t think I could drift off to sleep if I tried.”

“Then tell Fyntch that.  Tell him I can’t go for the same reason.  All the Black Bulls are still going on mission after mission trying to bring peace and order back to the kingdom.  It’s not right that I leave them to go off on some stupid three day leave.”

Julius shook his head.  “I tried that.  I told you I tried that.”

“Try again.”  Teris begged.

“Teris.” Julius sighed, reaching out to her.

Teris stepped back from him.

Julius sighed again and he lowered his hands.  “You are going.”  He said, simply.

Teris glared at him.  “I--”

“If you tell me you hate me I won’t even make an attempt of showing.”  Julius said, cutting her off.  Whether she meant it or not, such words always stung.

Teris gave one last try to convince him.  “Julius, I don’t want to go.”

“We all do things we don’t want to all the time.  You think I want to spend half the day in meetings and the other half doing paperwork till I can’t see straight and everything looks the same?  You think I wanted to go to war?  Or want to be having this conversation?”

“Go away.”  Teris frowned.

“Go to Silva Castle.  Don’t make Fyntch fetch you.  Do you really want him coming here, seeing how and who you live with?  He’ll pull you out of the Magic Knights so fast and have you locked up at Nova House before the day is done.  You know I’m right.”

Teris glowered.  “Fine.”

Julius exhaled and muttered to himself.  “I should’ve led with that.” He pointed at his sister.  “Silva Castle.  Twenty minutes.”

She kicked the toe of her boot into the foot of her bed.

“Teris.” Julius rumbled.

“I heard you!  Go away already.”

Julius turned and left her bedroom.  He found Yami waiting on the second level landing.  Glancing back up the stairs, he grimaced at the sounds of things being thrown about.  Looking at Yami, Julius warned.  “Don’t think it’d be too wise to go up there right now. She’s mad as hell.”

Yami smirked at his mentor.  “She’s not mad at me.”

Temper frayed and short, Julius frowned.  “You really can be a little shit sometimes, you know.”

Yami chuckled.  “Just figuring that one out?”

“Shouldn’t you be resting, eating, or heading out on a mission?”

“In a bit.  Tobin and Iban are waiting downstairs for me.”

Julius tried not to make a face at the mention of Iban’s name.

Yami caught the expression anyway.  “All hands on deck and all that.  At least Olsen's been teamed with the Bloody Creep for the most part. After what happened with Teris, he isn’t allowed on missions with any of the girls.”

Julius recalled the mission with Teris, Yami, and Iban where the Blood Mage had used his magic against Teris causing quite a bit of injury including several broken ribs.  Though the incident had happened almost a year ago, it still angered.

“They waiting in the great room?”  Julius asked.

Yami nodded, looking up the stairs.

“I think I’ll take the servants stairs and exit out back.”  Julius said, not wanting to see the man who had put his sister in such a state.

Yami waited till Julius had disappeared down the hall that led away from the boys rooms before climbing the stairs.  Standing in the open doorway of Teris’ room, he watched her tear the place apart looking for something.  She pulled out some sort of adornment from a trunk and turned around throwing it.

Yami leaned to the side, tilting his head as the thing flew by.

Teris gasped, hand covering her mouth.  “Sorry!  I didn’t know you were there.”

Yami entered the room.  “I’d hope not.  Would make me wonder if you were mad at me.”

“Tobin and Iban?”  She questioned, aware that Yami was leaving for a mission soon.  She looked at him thinking about last year when she had gone to Nova House for her birthday.

“They’re waiting downstairs.”  Yami saw her expression, knowing that she was thinking about last year when they had parted on a high desirous note only for her to return shortly after her birthday to find him angry and refusing to speak to her.  He stepped toward her, pulling her the rest of the way.  “Come here, Princess.”

Teris shook her head.  “Don’t call me that.  Not when I’m going to Silva castle.”

Yami caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.  “I don’t care what you are to them.  You’re my, Princess.”

She huffed, smirking up at him.  “Always got to have it your way, don’t you.”

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer.  “I thought you liked it when I got my way.”

Teris laughed, lowering her head and pushing at his chest through not really trying to push him away.  “Yami. You got to go and I got to get ready to go.”

“What? Don’t want me to have my way any more?  I owe you.”

“Owe me?”  Teris lifted her head.

Yami smirked, getting exactly what he wanted, her eyes on him.  He stared at her, his desire openly clear in his gaze.  “For your birthday. I owe you a gift.”

“No.” Teris shook her head.  “We agreed no gifts. Remember.”

Yami lowered to whisper in her ear.  “Oh, I remember vividly.”

He stepped back, Teris falling a step forward.  That should leave him in the foremost of her mind till she returned to him, Yami thought.

Teris blushed at the memory of having offered herself as Yami’s birthday gift and what had ensued.  “W—we agreed we needed to be--”

“Good? Better behaved?  More restrained?” Yami smiled, looking her over.

Teris swallowed, legs squeezing together.  She could feel the pulled of his gaze as it raked over her body.

“Depends on how good, behaved, and restrained you are while suffering those humorless royals these next few days.  I don’t want you getting into trouble over there and putting an end to the trouble we get up to together over here.”  Yami’s devilish grin was cut short by Tobin’s echoing holler.

“Yami!”

Yami backed out of the room.  “Gotta go, Princess.  I’ll treat you to your gift when you return.”

Teris sunk onto the bed as soon as he was out of sight.  How could mere words leave her breathless with wanting?  While they hadn’t done anything close to what they had been up to before the war.  Teris hadn’t been frightened or uncomfortable ever since Yami had promised to be patient and work with her.  Instead she found herself eager and desirous as Yami always seemed to leave her frustrated and wanting more.  She got the distinct feeling he enjoyed this new little game of his that left her grasping and falling forward after him.

Standing, she shook her head clear of the dreamy feeling Yami left her with.  She only had one pair of court appropriate shoes here at base.  She only had one court appropriate gown here as well; but that she had found easily enough.  It was the matching shoe she had to find.

Renewing her search in the trunk that held her things, she hoped Fyntch had thought to order a few proper outfits packed and taken to Silva Castle else she would need to borrow something from Mereoleona’s closet. She certainly wasn’t asking Nebra for such a favor; not that she would wear any of Nozel’s sisters outfits anyway.  They were all pink, purple, and lavender.  Colors Teris wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“Found you!”  Teris said victoriously, pulling out the missing shoe.

72.3

Lunch at Silva Castle was made better and livelier by the presence of the Vermilion's.  Nozel and Fuegoleon called themselves rivals.  And occasionally acted as such. But in truth they got on well enough for everyone to know them as friends they were.  Their father's on the other hand were far from friends.

The rivalry between Nathyn Silva and Leonidas Vermillion had begun at a young age and had only grown over the years.  Sadly it wasn’t only their station that often brought the two patriarchs together.  Before Acier’s death, she and Marcellina, Fuegoleon’s mother, had been close friends.  The women had often planned dinners and outings together for the two royal families.  Even after Acier’s passing, Nathyn tolerated Leonidas’ company just so he could interact with Marcellina. It made Nathyn happy to be around someone who had loved Acier nearly as much as he had and could reminisce about her with him.

Seated to her husbands left, Marcellina lightly scolded.  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Fyntch.  Not bringing proper court clothes for your sister.”

“Men don’t think of such things, my dear.”  Leonidas told his wife.

Marcellina turned to her daughter.  “Mereoleona.  After we’ve finished lunch, you must take Teris out shopping.”

Mereoleona sighed.  “Really, Mother.”

“Aunt Lina, please.  I could simply borrow a gown or two from Leona’s wardrobe.”  Teris said.

“Works for me.”  Mereoleona said.

Marcellina looked horrified.  “Absolutely not.  Your coloring's are not at all similar.  The color scheme of her wardrobe will not look well on you.  Besides, your forms are much too dissimilar.  Leona’s gowns won’t fit you properly.”

“She’s only an inch or two shorter than me.”  Mereoleona told her mother. She look at Teris.  “Don’t you go growing anymore.  I won’t stand for you being taller that me.”

“Your torso is longer than hers and your legs are shorter.”  Marcellina said, not mentioning their difference in bust with men present.

“Fine. I’ll go if Leon comes.”  Mereoleona bargained.

“Why?” Fuegoleon complained, wondering how his sister always managed to force him into things their mother wanted her to do.

“Come now, Leon.  You like shopping.”  Mereoleona grinned.

Fuegoleon couldn’t argue with that.  Not to mention that someone had to guide his sister and cousin on what was proper, in fashion, and looked well on Teris. “Fine.”

“Oh Fyntch, don’t look so stern.  We’ll pay.  Consider it our birthday gift to our favorite niece.”  Marcellina told, upon seeing the mans sour expression.

“No need to mention money at the table, Lina, my dear.”  Leonidas said.

“I’m not concerned about the cost.”  Fyntch said.

“Of course you’re not.”  Leonidas said.

“I simply do not care for the time such an excursion will take from this annual gathering.”  Fyntch went on.

“Then have Nozel, Nebra, and Solid join them.”  Marcellina smiled, brightly.  “The children can go shopping while we all visit.  No doubt they’ll have more fun doing that than sitting around listening to us.”

“Please, Father.  There were these gloves I saw when we passed through and would so like to get a better look at them.”  Nebra said, looking down the table at her father.

Nathyn smiled at his eldest daughter, the thought of reminiscing about his beloved wife with Marcellina putting him in a good mood.  “Very well.  Nozel.  Look after your siblings and Intended.”

“Yes, Father.”  Nozel said, not needing to look at Teris to know her expression had hardened at the way his father had referred to her.

“Can I go, Mother?”  Leopold asked.

Marcellina looked fondly down at her youngest son.  “Dear little Leo.  You still have your magic training with Ms Theresa.”

“That’s right!”  Leopold said, becoming excited.  He looked to his brother. “I’m going to become just as strong as you, Leon.”

“I am sure you will.”  Fuegoleon smiled.

“It’s a shame Noelle isn’t here.  She and Leo could have trained together.”  Marcellina said, looking at Nathyn.

There was little Nathyn could say that wouldn’t disparage Noelle and therefore the family so he opted to suggested.  “Shall we move to the tea room?”

“I’ll take a coffee.”  Leonidas told a servant.

Marcellina glanced at her husband.  She didn’t like him drinking the beverage, it made him irritable.

The men stood, Fyntch leaving the handling of his sister to Nozel as he stepped away from the table.  Much as Teris didn’t like accepting such courtly attention from Nozel, she’d much rather take his hand of assistance than her brothers.

“You kids behave.”  Leonidas told them, making his way out of the lunch room.

“Be back in time to properly prepare for dinner.”  Nathyn instructed, eyes on Nozel.

Nozel inclined his head.

Their elders gone, they all looked at each other.

Mereoleona finally broke the silence.  “Where should we go first?”

“I still can’t believe you’re here.”  Teris muttered.

“Thanks for that.  You really know how to make someone welcomed.” Mereoleona told, sarcastically.

“Sorry. It’s only Julius said he couldn’t be here because he had so much left to do.”  Teris all but rolled her eyes thinking she was going to kill him.

“I’m sure he does.  You forget he was overseeing the southwest forces during the war.”  Mereoleona said.

Teris blinked never having considered that.  She suddenly felt bad for giving her brother such a hard time.

“The Fine Cloth.”  Nozel said, answering Mereoleona’s earlier question.  The last time he had been in there, before the Nine Day War, there had been a gown he had admired for Teris.  Never had he imagined that he would actually get a chance to see her in it.

Mereoleona slapped the table.  “The Fine Cloth it is.”

“But the gloves I wanted to look at were on the other side Dressers Lane.”  Nebra complained.

“We’re going so that Lady Teris will suitably attired for the following days events.  Not so you can purchase yet another pair of gloves.” Nozel told.

Nebra turned away from her brother sticking her nose in the air.

Nozel sighed, wondering why Nebra and Solid had to accompany them in the first place.

Teris’ brows furrowed.  “You’re making this sound as if it'll take all afternoon.  I just need two, maybe three dresses.”

“You will need two evening dresses, a ball gown, a court gown, garden gown, two day dresses, and riding attire.”  Nozel said, thinking of the itinerary for the following couple of days.

Teris scoffed.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“As well as shoes and accessories for each.”  Fuegoleon added.

“What!” Teris shook her head.  “The shoes I’m wearing are fine.  No one will even see them anyway.”

“Yes, they will.  Ladies look at such things while you’re climbing or descending steps.”  Nebra told.

“As do the men.”  Solid smirked, always looking in hope of glimpsing a bit of leg.

Nozel turned to his brother.  Solid shrunk back.

“Really?” Teris questioned, in disbelief.  She never looked at anyone's shoes. Looking to Fuegoleon she argued.  “Even so.  What does that matter?  I don’t--”

“You’re getting shoes.  Mana!  Do you always have to be so difficult?” Fuegoleon complained.

“Do you?”  Teris shot back.

Mereoleona smiled at the two of them.  “Ah!  This brings back memories.  Kind of makes me wish you could spend a night over at Vermillion Castle with us.”

Teris spun to her.  “Can I?”

“No.” Mereoleona and Nozel said.

Teris refused to look at Nozel instead giving Mereoleona the glared meant for him.

Mereoleona step to Teris, tossing an arm around her shoulder.  “Let’s go.  I have a feeling that between Leon and Nozel the two of us can sit back and let them see you perfectly outfitted.”

72.4

Seated in the tea room, Marcellina said.  “It’s a shame Fyntch had business to take care of and couldn’t stay.  You men.  Always working so hard to see your families cared for and supported.”

Leonidas gazed lovingly at his wife.  “Just as you ladies work so diligently to see our family and homes looked after and well ordered.”

“It’s the least we can do.”  Marcellina smiled back, the couple sharing a moment.

Nathyn turned away.  Such open affection was unseemly in his eyes.  Things and talk like that were meant for private moments and even then sparingly so, least they become like the commoners who readily gave into their more feral natures any time they wished with no sign of restraint.

Marcellina turned to Nathyn.  “The boys appear to be getting along.  Then again unlike the two of you, they’ve never had much of a problem in that regard.”

Nathyn looked at Lady Vermillion who gave him one of her kind but playful smiles.

“I tease, my Lord.”  Marcellina said.

“No matter how truthful it is.”  Leonidas said giving the Silva a sideways before focusing back his wife.  “My dear, would you mind checking on Leopold so Nathyn and I can speak alone?”

Marcellina set down her cup and saucer.  Both men rose from their seats. Leonidas offered his hand and helped his wife from her seat.

Nathyn gave a slight bow.  “My Lady.  As always your presence has been a pleasure that is visited upon me too infrequently.”

Marcellina blushed ever so slightly.  “My Lord Silva.  With prose such as that I shall endeavor to have my husband and I rectify this rarity.”

She placed her hand in Nathyn’s outstretched one, smiling shyly as he lifted it to his lips to graze her knuckle with a kiss.

Leonidas watched his wife walk away.  If he didn’t enjoy the sight of her swaying backside and swishing skirts so much he might have never allowed Marcellina to leave his presence.  He turned to Nathyn who stared a moment longer at the closed door.

“You still have it.”  Leonidas declared.

Nathyn’s blue eyes turned the man.  “Still have what?”

Leonidas huffed.  He retook his seat, Nathyn doing the same.  Even when they were younger the cold fool never knew the effect his fine words had on the opposite sex.  As if Nathyn Silva’s handsome face and high rank hadn’t been enough to attract every female.  Eligible or otherwise.

Leonidas recalled a time back in their youth when Nathyn had come to him asking for advice.  A rarity given that they had never gotten along and were only ever together when circumstance demanded.  Back then the young, unmarried Silva had unwittingly piqued the interest of Lady Annsan Denwulf.  An older royal wed to a nobleman's son and heir.  Nathyn had been at a loss at what to do to put an end to the married lady’s persistent attentions.  Especially since Nathyn had been on the same squad as the Lady’s son, Dorien.

Leonidas smiled at the memory of one of the few occasions he had ever seen Nathyn Silva flustered and lacking in confidence.

“Our sons did well completing the Kings request.”  Leonidas said, changing the subject to something the Silva would find less aggravating.  “You should be proud of your boy.  It is he who will get all of the honor and credit tomorrow.”

“As is only fitting since he would have born all of the shame and blame if they had failed.”  Nathyn said.

“I wasn’t complaining, Silva.”

“It’s difficult to tell at times, Vermillion.”

The two men stared at each other.  Leonidas blinked first, not too proud to do so for the sake of peace.  “Nozel deserves all the praise he will get tomorrow.  Commanding my niece alone is a fete that couldn’t have been easy.”

“I’ll admit they both require practice in that arena.”  Nathyn said, speaking of Teris and his son.  “Though I have full faith that Nozel will command her with as firm a hand as required to get Lady Teris to submit.”

“But no firmer than necessary I would hope.  We are speaking of my favored niece.  A child as dear to me as if she were one of my own.” Leonidas said.

Nathyn arched a questioning brow.  “Is that what this is about?  You wish to take the position as the girls father figure?  If so, then get her to behave like a proper young lady.  At the very least stop her from cavorting with that foreign boy from her squad.”

Thinking of the reports he had heard of Teris and the foreigner out on the lawn during his daughters Lava Springs party, Leonidas sighed.  “I admit I was rather displeased and disappointed to hear of that.  Even my Mereoleona, free and unorthodox as she is, wouldn’t entertain a young man so openly.  Still, it seems Teris has either learned her lesson or someone has instructed her on decent, if not proper, romantic decorum.  I haven’t heard anymore murmurings of such instances.  Have you?”

Nathyn scowled.  “That hardly means such things aren’t still being done in private.”

Leonidas rolled his eyes.  “As if you went into your marriage having never felt another's lips.  Teris may be a little too much like my Leona, but she would never give herself fully outside of marriage.  Of that I’m certain.  It’s simply a line the girl would never cross.”

“She belongs to my son.”

“No.” Leonidas countered.  “She will one day belong to your son.  Right now the only claim you and Nozel have on her is that Teris is meant for him.”  He relaxed back into his seat.  “The boy loves her. That much is obvious.  So long as things with the foreigner don’t go too far, Nozel will forgive her this male diversion.  So why not let it be?  It makes her happy.  The poor child has had such little happiness in her life.  And let’s face it, I doubt Teris will experience much joy when finally wed into your family.”

Nathyn took in a steadying breath, calming his rising mana.  Looking across the coffee table, he challenged.  “You would have a problem with this if it were your sons Intended we were discussing.”

“Any Intended meant for my son wouldn’t have to seek out joyful diversions in dread of the day she became a member of my House.” Leonidas said, light tone carrying an dangerous undercurrent.  His forced smile tight, he went on.  “Let us hope that you are not fully successful in turning Nozel into you.  Else I truly will feel for my niece.”

“He’s too soft.”  Nathyn declared.

“I agree he has a lot to learn.  Both our boys do.  At least they are working with and learning together.  Explains their quick rise within the Magic Knights.  Where as you and I often battled to our detriment within the order.”

Nathyn huffed, the usual slight down turn of his lips leveling to a thin line.

“I mean it Nathyn.  Leave the girl and foreign boy be.  I’m watching the matter closely to see that nothing of any sort gets out of hand.”

Nathyn’s eyes narrowed, his lips pulling downward.  As much as he didn’t like the Vermillion telling him what to do, it was Leonidas’ last sentence that was upsetting, if not concerning.  Just how closely was Leonidas watching?  Was he aware of the failed attempt on Yami’s life during the Nine Day War?  Or the money left without word by the Black Bulls Vice Captain?  How long had Leonidas being watching?  Did the Vermillion know of the two previous attempts before this latest debacle?

Leonidas smiled at the Silva’s expression.  “I truly hope we understand each other.  Given this honor your son has won for your House it would be a shame if a controlling, prideful patriarch turned that esteem to not.”

72.5

While the Sales Assistant had needed to adjust to not showing the offerings of fine fashionable gowns to the two disinterested royal women and instead try to please the two royal men, it had been an easy adjustment to make.  These weren’t the first high bred customers that had entered where the man had a mind of how he wanted his woman to look and knew what style best pleased him on her frame.  Given what she had heard she was rather surprised Lady Nova was amenable to allowing her Intended to dress her.  She wondered if the two royals had finally submitted to their families intention to see them wed. Such a shame that would be she thought, watching Nozel closely as he tried to decide between two of the remaining riding dresses he and Lord Fuegoleon Vermillion had narrowed it down to.

The Sales Assistant sighed dreamily, wishing that it was her His Highness was outfitting.  A smile crossed her face as she took in Nozel’s form.  Better yet, they could move on the the back of the store and he could outfit her in the lingerie they offered.  She would gladly try it on for him.

She glanced at the bored Lady Nova who occasionally sighed heavily as if it was such a tiresome inconvenience to have two of the highest ranking young royals, both of whom would make any girl stop and stare at their handsome face and figure, picking out such fine dresses for her to wear.  Some girls had all the luck and didn’t even realize or appreciate it, she thought bitterly.

“This one will look better.”  Nozel said.

“And she’ll be able to move about easier in the other.”  Fuegoleon said.  He crossed his arms and looked at the Silva.  “It’s a riding dress.  Comfort and maneuverability are more important than mere appearance.”

“If this wasn’t for a court gathering I might agree with you.  But it is and I’m picking this one.”  Nozel told.

“Since this is a birthday gift from the Vermillion's, what you pick has little bearing.”  Fuegoleon said, tersely.

“Teris.” Nozel called over his shoulder.

“Are we done?”  Teris called back, sitting up.

Lounging beside her, eyes closed, Mereoleona muttered.  “I hope so.  Pretty sure it’s almost time to head back and get ready for dinner.”

“Almost.” Fuegoleon assured.  “Come here, please.”

Without looking at the Sales Assistant, Nozel ordered.  “Hold the dress up to her.”

“I’m bored.”  Teris complained, making her way over to them.  She had never liked shopping.  Shopping for fancy clothes that were meant for her were definitely off her list of enjoyable activities.  She pulled away when a sales girl held something before her.

“Stand still.  Fuegoleon snapped.

“And straight.”  Nozel added, looking her over appraisingly.

Teris made a face, but did as the two men bid.

Nozel’s eyes slid to Fuegoleon, brow raised.

Fuegoleon look Teris over a moment then nodded.  “You’re right.”

“I know.”  Nozel said, turning away.  He took it as an insult that the Vermillion had doubted his knowing what looked best on his Intended.

“Is that it?”  Teris asked, wanting to go back and sit, or better yet return to Silva Castle.

Nozel nodded as the Assistant took up the boots and accessories that he had picked to go with the outfit.

“If I can have my Lady’s measurements I will have these altered and boxed within the hour.”  The Sales Assistant said pulling a quill and paper out for Teris to write her numbers on.

Teris blinked at the woman.  “I haven’t a clue.”

Nozel sighed.  Before he could stop himself had rattled off Teris’ measurements.  The Sales Assistant caught herself staring.  She quickly turned around, jotting the numbers down and busied herself with boxing the accessories.

Fuegoleon’s expression held a mixture of displeasure and amusement.

Nozel cleared his throat and added lamely.  “I would guess.”

Teris felt both angry and embarrassment.  She felt exposed.  Examined.  She felt like a thing.  She wanted to walk out and not look back.  She wanted to head to the back and have the store clerk take her measurements, sickly interested in how accurate Nozel’s guess was. Mana.  She hoped it was a guess.  It had to have been a guess, she told herself.  How else would he have gotten a hold of her measurements?  It wasn’t that she was embarrassed about the numbers.  It was that Nozel somehow knew something so personal.  More than that, he had spoken the numbers with such confidence and ease as if he were already her husband.  Which she had made clear, time and again, he would never be.

Teris saw a tape measure on the counter and grabbed it.  Lashing it like a whip, she spun on a heel and marched to the changing room.  Nozel mindful to keep his eyes averted from her.

Fuegoleon smirked at his cousins behavior.  He turned a stern eye on Nozel.  “I had a few choice words for you.  But I think Teris will have more than enough so I’ll save my breath.  What were you thinking?  How do you even know a thing like that?”

“I have a good eye.”  Nozel said simply.  He looked Fuegoleon over and rattled off the Vermillion’s measurements.

“Impressive. I’d be quick to mention that and prove it when she comes back. Not that it’ll spare you from much.”  Fuegoleon told.

It wasn’t long before Teris exited the changing room.  Her shoulder rammed into Nozel as she passed making her way for the door. Mereoleona got to her feet.

“Teris?” She called after her cousin.  The Crimson Lions Captain looked over at Nozel and her brother wondering what they had done to upset her this time.

Fuegoleon watched his sister follow Teris out.  He looked at Nozel and shook his head in sympathetic amusement.  Stepping to the counter, he signed the bill of sale and instructed the Clerk on when and where he wanted everything delivered.

Mereoleona stepped beside Teris who had stopped at a nearby fountain.  “What’s the matter, Little One?”

Picking at a hangnail, Teris mumbled.  “Nozel knew my measurements.”

Mereoleona shrugged.   “That’s not surprising.  Lord Silva has a mathematical eye.  It’s somewhat expected one of his children would inherent the same.”  She smiled and told.  “My Mother once said that when they were younger Lord Silva’s favorite party trick was to guess how many mixed nuts were in a bowel.  She said that he was never off by more than two and that was only when he had a few too many drinks.  Father told me that Lord Nathyn helped him in sizing Mother’s betrothal ring and when it came time to put it on her finger it fit perfectly.  Said that as happy as he was to have it fit, to this day he doesn’t like it when Mother wears her betrothal ring because it reminds him of Lord Silva’s help.”

Teris relaxed somewhat at that.  Maybe that’s all it was.  It was something similar to how she could remember the words to every song she had ever heard, even if only once.  Or how she could sometimes guess the next few words from a versus or chores she hand never heard.  As useless as it was, it was occasionally a fun gift to have. If Nozel was indeed like his father, his gift would be a whole lot more useful.  Knowing that about him actually explained a lot.  Like how Nozel was able to step back and surmise the weakest point of cell for Fuegoleon, Randall, Zara, and him to focus on.  Or how he had known just what pace to set to get them to the next camp point.

Mereoleona looked over at her.  “You’re no vain girl that would be upset about something like that.  What’s really bugging you?”

“I only have two more years left.”  Teris said, the weight of it causing her shoulders to slump.

“And?”

Teris’ head snapped up.  “And!”

“That troublesome brute of yours will follow you anywhere.”  Mereoleona said with a shrug.

“I don’t want to go anywhere.  The Clover Kingdom isn’t perfect but it’s better than most.  It’s my home.  I love it.”

“Then let that muscly mess of a man fight Fyntch to free you from your family and duty.”  Mereoleona said, simply.

“Who says it’ll be Fyntch?  If Julius--”

“Julius will never fight Yami.  He’s put too much work and effort into that kid to kill him.  Besides, Julius would never do anything to force you into a future you didn’t want.”  Mereoleona pinched Teris’ cheek.  “He adores you too much for that.”

Teris pulled her face away.

Mereoleona dropped her hand.  “Julius will work something out.  You can count on that.  Your little Lord of Destruction won’t have to face him.”

“I don’t want Yami to have to face anyone.”  Teris said.

Mereoleona didn’t know if her cousin was stating what her perfect world looked like, or if Teris was still that young, foolish, and hopeful.  “I know it’s you birthday in a couple days, Little One.  But you can’t have all the things.”

“I don’t want all the things.”  Teris said, fiercely.  “I’m ready and willing to lose my name, title, and all that comes with it when it’s time.”

“Even us?”  Mereoleona asked.

“That’s the only thing I’ll miss.”  Teris said, finding it difficult to keep the other woman’s gaze.

Mereoleona clasped Teris’ shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  You won’t lose me. Well you will once Leon’s ready to become Captain, but so will everyone else cause I’m getting out of here.”

“Where are you going?”

“We’re talking about you here.”  Mereoleona put her other hand on Teris’ other shoulder, holding both of them.  “Now I need you to listen and heed what I tell you cause it’s important.”

“Alright.” Teris said, uncertainly.

“No.” Mereoleona shook her head.  “No tentative, alright's.  I said this was important.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

Mereoleona looked at the younger girl lifting her eyebrows.  “And heeding.  I need you to really listen and take in what I have to say.”

Teris gave a nervous smile.  “Leona.  You’re starting to scare me.”

“Good. Cause this is so important it is scary.  Are you listening?”

Teris nodded.

“You got of stop worrying about this stuff.  Whether you leave or stay. If that big lug fights on your behalf or not.  There’s nothing you can do about any of that right now.  Not with two year left to go. So don’t think about it.  Put it out of your head and enjoy the here and now.  With all that’s going on who knows what will happen between then and now.  Hell, Fyntch or Lord Nathyn could die.  You or Yami could die.  Nozel could--”

“Please stop saying ‘die’.”  Teris begged.

“You get my point.”  Mereoleona went on.  “Enjoy these next few days and the ones after.  Relish your ranking friends and family.  Well, maybe not Fyntch.  He is a bit of a prat.  But I do include Nozel in that.  If—when you get what you want.  Even if you don’t get it exactly as you want.  All of this changes, if it doesn’t go away forever.  Even if and when you become Knights Commander.  Which I am as certain you’ll achieve as I am of Julius becoming Wizard King.” She looked at her cousin affectionately.  “The relationships.  The close friendship you have with those two boys back in that store will never be the same.  There will be strain and tension and hurt feelings.  And that strain, anger, and hurt will always be there on some level no matter how much time passes or how well those feelings are hidden.”

Teris lowered her head fighting back the hurt, anger, and fear her cousins words brought to the surface.

Mereoleona chucked a finger under Teris’ chin.  “Don’t look so down.  You still got two years left to have a lifetime of fun and laughs with those two boys.  I’m telling you this so you don’t waste it. Consider it my birthday gift to you.”

72.6

Mereoleona knocked on her father's study door.

“Enter.” Leonidas Vermillion called.  “Ah, Leona, my dear.  What are you doing up so late?”

“Just because I’m here doesn’t mean work doesn’t follow.” Mereoleona said, speaking of her duties as the Crimson Lions Captain. She sat before her father's desk.  “What about you?”

“The Magic Knights aren’t the only ones dealing with extra work. Drink?”  Leonidas offered, getting up and moving to the bureau behind his desk that bore several decanted spirits.

Having more work to see to, Mereoleona shook her head.  “No, thanks.  You shouldn’t either.  Mother will smell it on you and scold.”

“I can handle your Mother.”  Leonidas said, pouring himself a fingers worth instead of the two he had planned before his daughters words.

“Did you speak to Lord Silva?”  Mereoleona asked.

Leonidas returned to the chair, sighing as he sat.  “I told you I would. However did you learn Nathyn hired men to kill Teris’ young friend?”

Mereoleona recalled Bronn telling her the truth of things after Yami was found unharmed after he had been taken by a dimensional spell.  She had almost gone to confront Nathyn Silva herself; and likely would have if she hadn’t been fighting in a war.  Yami had been under her command at the time.  She had been responsible for him.  More than that, Yami was a Magic Knight.  As much as the squads might bicker and fight, they were one unit.  One family.  If anyone from the outside threatened one them they may as well have threatened every Magic Knight.  Their lives were dangerous enough as if was.  They didn’t need anyone getting ideas to make it more so.  Thanks to the war, Mereoleona had been forced to wait.  The passing time had calmed her enough to think with a clearer head which had led her to the decision of going to her father.

“I’d rather not say.”  Mereoleona told her father.  She didn’t see how telling him would get Bronn in trouble.  But she also didn’t see how telling her father would make a difference.

Having his fair share of secrets, Leonidas didn’t press.  “Well, Nathyn won’t be sending people after that boy again.  Not if he knows what’s good for his family’s image or has any hope of Nozel and Teris making their marriage work.”

Mereoleona looked sadly at her father.  “She’s not going to marry him, Papa. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Leonidas shook his head.  “I refuse to believe she won’t.  The thought of having to turn away from that girl wounds me too much.”

“You don’t have to.  I won’t be.”

“Don’t tell me your future plans to ignore my instructions.  And you know full well that I must and will if Teris indeed refuses to follow her family’s commands.  I don’t live for my needs and desires, Leona. I have a duty to this family.  To House Vermillion.  To the King and this kingdom.”

Mereoleona sat forward and inquired.  “Then why speak to Silva at all?  Why not let him do as he wishes and rid this kingdom of a dirty foreigner who’s messing around with a royal girl far above his station?”

Taking a sip of his drink, Leonidas drawled.  “Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re having fun or truly being adversarial.”

“It’s no wonder when sometimes I can’t tell myself.”  Mereoleona admitted, sitting back.

“Let us say Teris does as she’s told and weds Nozel.  She doesn’t love him and while she might learn to, it will be a rough few first years for her as Lady Silva.  If Nozel is incapable of bringing her to heel I have no doubt that Nathyn will step in and his methods will be far less tender and caring.”

“And you’re okay with that?”  Mereoleona asked.  “A girl you claim to love like your own daughter--”

“But Teris isn’t my daughter.”  Leonidas interjected.  “I may be the third highest man of this land but even I have limits on what I’m able to do.  Especially when faced against the second ranking man of the kingdom.”

While Leonidas didn’t have major issue admitting the truth of his limitations as His Royal Highness Lord Vermillion to Mereoleona, he didn’t like seeing the look of disappointment in his daughters eyes.  Apparently his children thought him able of any and everything he wished and were crestfallen every time he told them that it wasn’t true.  At least Fuegoleon as his heir, was beginning to understand his limitations, and hardly ever looked at him as Mereoleona did now.

“Teris deserves some happiness.”  Leonidas said, telling her the same thing he had told Nathyn.  “Whether she submits and weds Nozel.  Or refuses and deals with whatever consequences that decision brings her way.  It will still be a tough adjustment for her.  So yes.  After what you told me, I spoke with Silva to ensure she has a couple joyful years before this mess comes to a head.  Besides,” he shook his head in disgust, “hiring gangs to kill that foreign boy.  Nasty business that.  Nathyn should be ashamed of himself.  He had no right attempting such a thing.  He over stepped his bounds.”

“I’m not so sure he’d agree.”

“I don’t give a damn if Nathyn Silva agrees.”  Leonidas stormed. “Teris is his sons Intended.  That is all.  Her behavior and going on's are not for him to sway or tamper with.  If there’s something he doesn’t like he should speak with Fyntch, or Julius.  Hell, even speak with me.  But to try to have that young man killed, not once but twice that you’re aware of, simply because he doesn’t approve of Teris’ dealings with him.  This Yami Sukehiro is a Third Class Senior Magic Knight for mana’s sake!”

“And soon to be co-Vice Captain of the Black Bulls.”  Mereoleona added.

Leonidas raised an eyebrow.  “Truly.”

She nodded, happy that her effort to distract and calm her father had worked so easily.  “From what I understand Yami and Teris are to become co-Vice Captain's once the current Black Bulls Vice Captain retires to marry.”

Leonidas chuckled, heartily.  “Silva certainly won’t like that.  But maybe between my words and this Yami’s new rank, Nathyn will cease these tasteless attempts.”

72.6.2

Fuegoleon hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.  He had only gotten up to get a glass of warm milk after trying and failing to get to sleep for over an hour and a half.  But after what he’d just heard he didn’t think anything would help him sleep.

From down the hall he had seen light coming from his father’s half opened study door and decided that instead of fetching some milk he would offer his assistance with whatever his father was working on. As training for one day becoming the head of the royal House Vermillion his father often sent him work to do.  Fuegoleon was even charged with overseeing three of their pieces of land.  But with the war, his father had stopped sending him work and had taken over managing those properties in Fuegoleon’s place.

This morning his father had told his responsibilities for the three properties would continue once the festivities were over and he returned to the Crimson Lions base.  Even though his duties as a Magic Knight would still demand more time and attention then usual until the gangs and such could be beaten back into place, Fuegoleon had been glad to have his familial duties returned.

After hearing his father and sister, Fuegoleon walked swiftly back to his quarters.  He quietly closed and locked both the outer and inner doors of his chambers.  Running a shaky hand over his forehead, he tried to comprehend what he had just heard.  Lord Silva had hired people to kill Yami.  And not just once but twice.

He didn’t like his cousin’s close relationship with Yami, or the liberties he knew Teris allowed the man.  But that was far from a reason to kill him.  His father had been right in his tempered outrage.  Nathyn Silva had no right to attempt such a thing.  Teris was Nozel’s Intended, nothing more.  Until the two were properly betrothed neither Nozel or his father had any claim or authority over her.  Even after they were betrothed the Silva’s say wouldn’t be much.  Certainly not enough to permanently remove a person from Teris’ life by hiring people to kill.  Who would even considered such a thing?  Let alone followed through with it.  What kind of person hired people to take another's life?

Fuegoleon felt himself go cold.  Was this what it meant to a patriarch of a royal House?  He knew his father held the lives and well-being of countless people in his hand.  But he had never thought his father viewed those lives as expendable.  Sure people had died in their service to him or the family.  But Lord Leonidas Vermillion had always seen that the surviving family were given a large sum and well looked after.  Fuegoleon couldn’t imagine his father capable of ordering someones death.  Their Imprisonment and execution maybe. But those were open, lawful things.  Hiring some gang to murder someone was something completely different.  Something he had never imagined a royal doing.  Such deeds were what thugs did.

No. Fuegoleon corrected himself.  Such deeds were what thugs were hired to do.  But who did the hiring?  The thought that is was people like Lord Silva and his father troubled him.  The fact that he was lumping his father in with Lord Silva’s terrible deed simply because the two were both patriarchs and close in rank disturbed him further still.  But if Silva had done such a thing for something as simple as not liking Yami’s close connection with Teris, when Yami was a high ranking Magic Knight, it was almost certainly sure that Nozel’s father had hired such gangs for other reasons in the past.  And if that were so, what was to say that his own father hadn’t done likewise.  Fuegoleon couldn’t fathom a reason that would cause a man as honorable and caring as Leonidas Vermillion to do such a thing.  He knew his father had killed before.  His father had once been a Magic Knight where death and killing was sadly a somewhat regular occurrence.  Even so, Fuegoleon couldn’t picture it.  For some reason, despite knowing otherwise, he didn’t think his father the type of man capable of taking a life.  Then again he thought the same about Nozel even though he had seen different with his own eyes more than once on the battlefield.

Nozel! Fuegoleon jolted, his hands and face becoming clammy.  Did Nozel know of Lord Silva’s attempts?  If so, when had Nozel known?  He knew Nozel wanted to see Yami dead.  That his threat of one day overseeing Yami’s execution was far from an empty one.  What if Nozel had had enough of Yami’s teasing and inciting his anger? What if Nozel had had enough imagining what Teris and Yami got up to? Imagining what allowances she afforded Yami when she wouldn’t even accept a single kiss from Nozel.  Could it be that Nozel had been the one to make the suggestion to Lord Nathyn?  Fuegoleon didn’t think so; but up until a few moments ago he didn’t think Nathyn Silva, an upstanding royal and next in line for the throne, the type to hire assassins.

Writing isn’t just a love.  It’s my only real outlet.  And being able to connect with other people, bringing someone enjoyment through what little I can actually do has been a HUGE brightspot for me.  So THANK YOU to everyone who has ever commented, reblogged, or left an ask.

Next chapter snippet:

Yami’s jaw clenched at that.  He wasn’t sure he believed all this primordial forces business but he knew Alowishus and his Agents of Crazies did.  All Yami was willing to admit at the moment was there was something more to all of this than rare, strong magic.

[qrepublikmedid]

Medical ID by QRepublik

Who should wear medical identification? 

It may surprise you to learn hat even pregnant women may need to wear a medical id bracelet.Having a baby is an amazing and beautiful experience, however not all expectant Mom's encounter smooth sailing. Some may develop Gestational Diabetes or Toxemia, two possible complications of pregnancy. In the event one cannot not speak for themselves, it is always best to be wearing some form of medical identification to alert medical professionals

Or take the situation of the Type 2 Diabetic who is Not on Insulin. Well...did you know they can also have Hypoglycemic reactions. In the event of low blood sugar, it is imperative to give the patient quick sugar, such as orange juice, then call for help. 

Here is a partial list of the illnesses of which we recommend wearing medical alert jewelry:

Medical IDentification jewlery should be worn by those who have:

    A

* Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm — see Aortic Aneurysm

* Acanthamoeba Infection

* ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences)

* Acinetobacter Infection

* Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) — see HIV/AIDS

* Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (AIDS) — see HIV/AIDS

* Adenovirus Infection

* Adenovirus Vaccination

* ADHD [Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder]

* Adult Vaccinations

* Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE)

* AFib, AF (Atrial fibrillation)

* African Trypanosomiasis — see Sleeping Sickness

* Agricultural Safety — see Farm Worker Injuries

* AHF (Alkhurma hemorrhagic fever)

* AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome)

* AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome)

* Alkhurma hemorrhagic fever (AHF)

* ALS [Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis]

* Alzheimer's Disease

* Amebiasis, Intestinal [Entamoeba histolytica infection]

* American Indian and Alaska Native Vaccination

* American Trypanosomiasis — see Chagas Disease

* Amphibians and Fish, Infections from — see Fish and Amphibians, Infections from

* Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis — see ALS

* Anaplasmosis, Human

* Ancylostoma duodenale Infection, Necator americanus Infection — see Human Hookworm

* Angiostrongylus Infection

* Animal-Related Diseases

* Anisakiasis — see Anisakis Infection

* Anisakis Infection [Anisakiasis]

* Anthrax [Bacillus anthracis Infection]

* Anthrax Vaccination

* Antibiotic and Antimicrobial Resistance

* Antibiotic Use, Appropriate

* see also Get Smart about Antibiotics Week

* Aortic Aneurysm

* Aortic Dissection — see Aortic Aneurysm

* Arenavirus Infection

* Arthritis

* Childhood Arthritis

* Fibromyalgia

* Gout

* Osteoarthritis (OA)

* Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA)

* Ascariasis — see Ascaris Infection

* Ascaris Infection [Ascariasis]

* Aseptic Meningitis — see Viral Meningitis

* Aspergillosis — see Aspergillus Infection

* Aspergillus Infection [Aspergillosis]

* Asthma

* Atrial fibrillation (AFib, AF)

* Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder — see ADHD

* Autism

* see also Genetics and Genomics

* Avian Influenza

    B

* Bacterial Meningitis

* Bariatric Surgery

* Birth Defects

* Black Lung [Coal Workers' Pneumoconioses]

* blood clot

* Blood Disorders

* Blood Thinner

* Breast Cancer

    C

* Cancer

* Colorectal (Colon) Cancer

* Cerebral Palsy

* Cervical Cancer

* Chronic Fatigue Syndrome — see Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/ Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

* Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD)

* Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD)

* Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy — see CTE

* Chronic Wasting Disease (CWD)

* CKD (Chronic Kidney Disease)

* Clotting Disorders

* CMV (Cytomegalovirus Infection)

* Coal Workers' Pneumoconioses — see Black Lung

* Coccidioidomycosis — see Valley Feve

* Crohn’s Disease — see Inflammatory Bowel Disease

* Cytomegalovirus Infection (CMV)

    D

* Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT)

* Dengue Fever (DF)

* Diabetes (T1D, T2D)

* Down Syndrome [Trisomy 21]

    E

* Epilepsy

* Epstein-Barr Virus Infection (EBV Infection)

     F

* Fibromyalgia

    G

* Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disease (GERD)

* Gestational Diabetes

* Gout

* Guillain-Barré Syndrome

    H

* Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease (HFMD)

* Hansen's Disease

* Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome (HPS)

* Hearing impairment

* Heart Disease [Cardiovascular Health]

* Heat Stress

* Hemophilia

* Hypertension (High Blood Pressure

* Hypoglycemia

    I

* Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD)

* Impetigo — see Group A Strep Infection

    K

* Kawasaki Disease (KD)

* Kawasaki Syndrome — see Kawasaki Disease

* Kidney Disease (CKD)

    L

* La Crosse Encephalitis (LAC)

* Latex Allergy

* Lou Gehrig's Disease — see ALS

* Lung Cancer

* Lupus (SLE) [Systemic lupus erythematosus]

* Lyme Disease [Borrelia burgdorferi Infection]

* Lymphatic Filariasis

* Lymphedema — see Lymphatic Filariasis

* Lymphocytic Choriomeningitis (LCM)

   M

* Mad Cow Disease (BSE) — see Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy

* Malaria

* Marburg Hemorrhagic Fever

* MD (Muscular Dystrophy)

* Meningitis

* Meningococcal Disease

* Mental Health 

* Mononucleosis, Infectious — see Epstein-Barr Virus Infection

* MRSA [Methicillin Resistant Staphylococcus aureus]

    N

* No MRI

    O

* OA (Osteoarthritis)

* Obesity and Genetics

* Oral Cancer

* Organ Donor

* Organ Transplant

* Ovarian Cancer

    P

* PAD (Peripheral Arterial Disease)

* Parasitic Diseases

* PE (Pulmonary Embolism)

* Pelvic Inflammatory Disease (PID)

* Polio 

* Pontiac Fever — see Legionnaires' Disease

* Pregnancy

* Prostate Cancer

* Pulmonary Embolism (PE) — see Deep Vein Thrombosis

* Pulmonary Hypertension

    R

* Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA)

    S

* Scarlet Fever

* Seizure Disorder

* Shingles

* Sickle Cell Anemia

* Stroke

* Systemic Lupus

    T

* Thrombosis (Clotting Disorder)

* Toureette Syndrome

* Toxemia

* Traumatic Brain Injury

    U

* Ulcerative Colotis

* Uterine Cancer

    V

* Valley Fever

* Vision Impairment

* Von Willebrand Disease (VWD)

[petriichvrs]

𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘.

´   ･   .   ✶   ⧼    jessica barden, demigirl, she & her & they & them   /   mariners apartment complex by lana del rey + short nails with dirt caught beneath them and worn out jeans with muddy patches on the knees. scuffed trainers that have seen better days ( you understand how they feel ) and a handknit jumper that is somehow still too large, with stitches pulled hither and tither. windswept red hair and a stubbornly set mouth, the kind that used to twist into the most infectious smile ; but doesn’t, now that you are the girl on fire who has seen it all and yet, not enough. in the depths of those brown eyes, flames rage, good and strong, and isn’t that the savage beauty of it all? that in spite of everything, you remain - sturdy and smelling of smoke.   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY TWO year old pureblood WITCH is a GRYFFINDOR alumus, who has gone on to be a PROFESSIONAL CHASER FOR THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES. i’ve heard they can be quite RESILIENT & INTUITIVE, but i don’t know… they came off very HEADSTRONG & WAGGISH in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it? click HERE for ginny’s entire history ( also linked within ) & HERE for her pinterest board.

  and they call us hard women,       as if SURVIVAL could ever be delicate.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 !

FULL NAME:   ginevra molly weasley.

MEANING OF NAME(S):   an arthurian baby name meaning ‘fair one’. a name of irish origin and derived from ‘mary’, meaning ‘star of the sea’. a surname of unsure origin.

NICKNAMES:   ginny.

AGE:   twenty two.

BIRTHDATE:   august 11th, 1998.

BIRTHPLACE:   great britain.

ETHNICITY:   white.

EDUCATION:   homeschooled as all wizard children are, before attending hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry upon turning eleven.

JOB:   chaser for the holyhead harpies.

LANGUAGES:   english, french, german, spanish.

GENDER IDENTITY:   demigirl.

PRONOUNS:   she / her / they / them.

SEXUALITY ORIENTATION:   bisexual biromantic.

𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 !

HOGWARTS HOUSE:   gryffindor.

WAND TYPE:     eight and a quarter inches yew with phoenix tail feather.

PATRONUS:   a horse ( an ardennais stallion ).

BOGGART:   tom riddle ; not lord voldemort. people often forget that ginny faced him all alone, aged eleven, and only barely lived to tell the tale.

AMORTENTIA:   molly weasley’s homemade mince pies, harry potter’s preferred cologne and the smell of the quidditch pitch at hogwarts, after spring rain.

MISC. INFO:   trained and registered animagus, with the ability of transforming into a ginger tabby cat.

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

FATHER:   arthur weasley.

MOTHER:   molly weasley neé prewett.

SIBLING(S):   william, charles, percy, fred, george & ronald weasley ( older brothers ).

RELATIVES:   the weasley & prewett families ( and all who have subsequently married into them ).

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:   none.

EX SIGNIFICANT OTHERS:   harry potter & dean thomas & michael corner.

CHILDREN:   none.

PET(S):   arnold ( purple pygmy puff with a shocking lifespan ) & archimedes ( a screech owl ).

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

HEIGHT:   five foot one inch.

EYE COLOR:   brown.

HAIR COLOR:   ginger.

SCARS:   she has scars along her thighs and upon her fingertips that she doesn’t remember getting, from her second year. 'blood traitor’ on her right arm from lines she was forced to write by the carrow twins, in her sixth year. scars from the crack of a whip along her back, and scars upon her wrists and ankles from the chain bonds that filch preferred. a scar along her left cheekbone that she pairs with the gnarly one upon her knee, because both of them were sustained under the cruciatus curse. she has more scars than she can possibly remember that serve only to remind her of the war that they fought ; and she tries very hard to be proud of them, but even she finds it hard.

GLASSES / CONTACTS:   no / no.

PIERCINGS:   basic lobe piercings and a scaffold piercing in her right ear.

TATTOOS:   a tiny snitch, stick and poke tattooed on the inside of her arm - done in her third year, it glows when the weather is perfect for quidditch.

OTHER NOTABLE TRAITS:   there’s a dent on her forehead that you would only see if you were looking for it, sustained in the chamber of secrets.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

STAR SIGN:   leo, the lion ( passionate, earnest, enigmatic, jealous ).

PERSONALITY TYPE:   estp, the entrepreneur ( high energy, independent, reckless, bold ).

ALIGNMENT:   chaotic good.

TEMPERAMENT:   melancholic.

RELIGION:   agnostic.

PHOBIA(S):   ophidiophobia ( fear of snakes ).

VICE:   anger, recklessness, impatience.

VIRTUE:   confidence, passion, perseverance.

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

ALLERGIES:   none.

SMOKING/ALCOHOL/DRUGS:   sometimes, but has mostly broken the habit / socially, and regularly / no.

DIAGNOSES:   post traumatic stress disorder, survivors guilt and chronic insomnia.

BLOOD TYPE:   a positive.

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 !

click this link to be brought to ginny’s entire history.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 !

seventh child and only daughter of arthur and molly. first girl born into the weasley fam for GENERATIONS, so that makes her special. had too many brothers. biggest grievance was they never let her play quidditch with them, so she broke into their shed and taught herself. cried every single time they went to hogwarts without her. 

eventually got there herself. her first year notoriously SUCKED.

if ‘sucked’ is a good enough word to describe being possessed by tom riddle and opening the chamber of secrets, which ultimately led to a lot of people almost dying, including herself.

this, understandably, royally fucked ginny’s shit up. easily seen by her extra special hysterical reaction to the dementors. didn’t do much in her second yr other than be upset by them on the train and be hermione granger 2.0 ( overachiever extraordinaire ).

fully supported harry potter during his fourth year, when he became the unwitting fourth champion. would have gone to the yule ball with him if she hadn’t pledged herself to neville longbottom, who goes on to become one of her best friends.

got all up in order business in her fourth year, against her parents wishes. you can take the girl from the rebellion but you can’t take the rebellion from the girl. joined dumbledore’s army. also named it. became a royal pain in umbridge’s ass. was super talented at spells ( she’s special ) that they were being taught. had a rough christmas cos her dad almost got killed by voldemort’s ugly snake. hexed draco malfoy and still giggles about it to this day. fought off death eaters in the department of mysteries and was witness to sirius black’s death.

everyone rly wanted a piece of ginny in her fifth year ( understandable ). she got invited to slug club. was also made chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team ( after playing seeker the previous year when harry was banned ). she dated harry for a hot minute after she finally got rid of dean thomas ( srry dean ), but... after dumbledore died and death eaters attacked the school he broke up with her to ‘protect her’ which... sucked.

honestly. summer in general sucked. her bro got attacked by a werewolf. her boyfriend dumped her for her own good. there was a wedding, for some reason.

sixth year also sucked. the da was reformed ( by ginny & her friends ) but could only do so much in the face of the gross misuse of power by grown ass adults. ginny did all that she could even when they were actively torturing them all, but was made go into hiding at easter. 

followed her fam to hogwarts for the battle. almost had to sit the whole thing out, but ran off after she was forced to leave the room of requirement.

let’s recap the battle real quick : her brother? died. her friends? died. the love of her life? never even said goodbye and died. ginny? almost died! she did not have a good time. 0/10 stars on yelp, in fact. but they prevailed! they made harry proud! love when you succeed and get ptsd for your troubles.

ginny helped rebuild hogwarts over the summer, and went back in september to finish her seventh year, but... it wasn’t really home anymore. a war will do that. loss will do that. she was trying very hard to be okay - and in a lot of ways, trying a little too hard to be who she had ALWAYS been. she probably could have done with being told that no one expected her to be unchanged, but... everyone was going through their own stuff. 

she tried to honor the one’s that they lost by living, but... that was easier on paper. ginny didn’t seem to make it all the way through the five stages of grief. she was angry, and she was sad, but she couldn’t deny it and she couldn’t change it - and acceptance was impossible. her grief turned into a persistent feeling of emptiness, and that took a toll on her, as a person. 

a lot that made her happy once didn’t, anymore. she was scouted by the holyhead harpies fresh out of hogwarts, but when they asked her to sign, she didn’t immediately take them up on the offer. quidditch was about the only thing she had left at that point that brought her some measure of joy, and it felt...surreal, to be considering taking such a small pleasure and turning it into her life work. it felt not right, for some reason. doing something so ‘normal’ felt insulting, almost, to all the people who wouldn’t do anything normal again - but she couldn’t do nothing forever, and eventually, she was convinced.

she took the offer. she never looked back. things haven’t really gotten better in all the time since then, but at least they can’t get any worse.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !   /  talk of scars & death & trauma.

ginny’s scars tell more stories about her life at hogwarts than she has ever uttered. from her first year, she has marks that she can’t name the cause of. scarring along her thighs and upon her fingertips that were obtained in some of her black outs, that her parents BEGGED madam pomfrey to remove, but who she quietly told to not bother. there’s a small dent on her forehead that she sustained when she collapsed in the chamber of secrets, and you wouldn’t see it, if you weren’t looking. she doesn’t point it out.

of course, she sustained some in her fourth year. she fell over during a dumbledore’s army session and she scraped up the palm of her hand, something that they all laughed about, back then. she broke her ankle badly enough that it continues to click, even now, but luckily was never a hassle in her chosen career. maybe she’d have been even worse of, if bellatrix had tortured her like planned. ginny counts her blessings.

but it’s her sixth year that ruined her. that instilled within her a LOVE of long sweaters and a fear of being seen entirely naked. ‘blood traitor’ is carved into her right arm from lines she was FORCED to write with her own blood, over and over, after being caught putting graffiti on the side of green house number five. she didn’t cry, to them. she didn’t shed a tear. along her back there are criss cross scars from the CRACK of a whip, so many of them that ginny still closes her eyes when she’s getting into the bathtub, so she doesn’t catch a glimpse in the mirror. she’s been suspended by her ankles, by her wrists, and she has the taut skin there to show for it, and under one instance of the cruciatus curse, she FELL and sustained two wounds most commonly paired together in her thoughts - a scar along her left cheekbone, and a gnarly one upon her knee.

the war scarred her too. scarred her deeper. scarred her truer. she has more now than she can possibly remember that serve as a reminder to the war that they fought, together - and she tries to be proud of them. she really does. but even she finds it difficult.

ginny still keeps a bag packed and ready to go at the drop of a hat under her bed, just in case she has to run. it’s a habit instilled in her by her parents from when they went into hiding, and it’s one that she’s finding almost impossible to break. she still sleeps with her wand underneath her pillow every night, fingers curled around the wood - terrified, always, to be caught without it.

her nightmares vary, but they’re there. sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, blinking away the MEMORY of green light that came all too close to finishing her off. sometimes, all she can see is the rotting body of her older brother and his open, vacant eyes. sometimes it’s harry, and he’s all alone, and she’s screaming at him - just screaming and crying and begging him to turn around and stop and come back, but he never does. sometimes she’s back in the dungeons of hogwarts, hanging by her ankles, and when she’s shakily sipping coffee in the morning, she can still hear the carrow twins laughter in her ears, clear as day.

she’s suffered from sleep paralysis, too, though this predates the war and began in the weeks after the chamber of secrets. her limbs too heavy to move, the demon that stands over her is tom riddle - her longest and most withstanding nightmare. she’s ashamed of the fact that though she fears she’s forgotten the exact sound of fred’s laugh or the feel of harry’s hand in hers, she’ll never be able to forget the features of sixteen year old voldemort.

ginny can throw off the cruciatus curse, now, and perhaps can even resist imperio. she’s never wanted to TRY, but after the many times it was used upon them in her sixth year.. she believes it possible.

she trained to be an animagus, more out of… boredom, than anything else. she’s registered as an orange tabby cat, and it’s not uncommon for her to run off in this form in the direction of the lake, where she can sit for hours.

ginny is bloody awful at all of the things her mother tried to teach her. knitting, cooking, general housework. she would sit for HOURS with molly in the lead up to christmas, a pair of knitting needles held awkwardly in both hands, fingers incapable of making the loops and stitches that molly is so skilled at doing, until SHE had all the christmas jumpers done… and ginny only had a rather pathetic excuse of a scarf. similarly, she tried many a time to lend a hand in the kitchen, or memorize the recipe and replicate her mothers famous homemade fudge - almost always creating some sort of inedible goop at the end of it all. she tries, god bless her, but she just doesn’t seem to have the knack that came so EASILY to molly, and years ago after a particularly disastrous attempt at knitting the weasley family matching jumpers that ended with tears all around, ginny gave up that particular hobby.

she can garden, though. BOY can she garden. neville taught her how to take care of plants she thought were beautiful, and when she moved into her little bedsit, ginny pulled up the entire garden in her allotment - redoing it in her image. she spends hours out there, knee deep in mud, hands covered, and she comes in, sunburnt, smiling, blazing and beautiful. it’s such a simple joy to her, but it is one, nonetheless.

she always had an interest in muggles. ginny idolized her father ( and still, perhaps, does ), and some of her earliest memories were of clambering onto piles of scrap in the burrows yard, just to peek through the little dusty window on arthur’s shed and watch as he tinkered with some new muggle artifact. she was the one who told fred and george about the car, you know - though she never thought even for a MOMENT that they would end up driving it.

she learned the concept of ‘stick and poke’ tattoos from a worn out fiction book she borrowed from hermione, and learned how to replicate them with a good quill, some magical ink and a couple good spells. she gave herself her own one, in fact - the little snitch inside of the crook of her left arm, that isn’t a perfect circle, but still manages to glow BRIGHT when the conditions are perfect for quidditch. she got pretty good at them, too, giving many of her classmates their own magical tattoos as the years went by - though, like many things that brought her joy, she stopped doing them after the battle of hogwarts.