#mads' writing struggles

[mads-weasley]

The Vow

Masterlist

A/N: I'M ALIVE!! (roll mushu clip from mulan) I'm back with a short Nix fic that's been in my wips for probably about a year now lol! It isn't my best work, but buckle up for some angst with fluff! Enjoy!

Summary: In a small Aldbourne café, romance blossoms, but is anything ever safe from the clutches of war?

Warnings: mentions of blood, pretty good angst w/ fluff

December 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

"Nix. Nix, wake up," whispered Dick as he kneeled over the man's frozen foxhole. Nothing but a low groan could be heard from below.

Lewis pulled his thin blanket up to cover his exposed neck with a sigh. "5 more minutes, Dick."

"Lew. It's (y/n)."

Instantly, he shot up, wide awake. "Where is she? What happened?"

The redhead ran a hand down his face. "She and a few other men went on a patrol but wandered into the German line. Only one Dog company private made it out." Dick paused, watching Nix with a sad expression. "He says the last thing he saw was (y/n) going down as he ran."

It took a few seconds for the words to process in the intelligence officer's mind. 

"Go down? What does that mean? Fall? Get shot? What does he mean, Dick?" He asked frantically, jumping out of the foxhole. "Where is this guy?"

"Speirs is talking to him in the CP now. Lew, if sh-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "No, don't finish that sentence. She's not gone until I see a body."

The sight of (y/n)’s cold lifeless body flashed in his mind, causing tears to blur his vision as he jogged to CP. He took no time to compose himself before tearing through the tent’s entrance. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. Ron’s private was sitting on a cot, a far-off look in his eyes as he whispered to the Lieutenant. 

“We didn’t even know where we were, sir. Johnson, h-he fell in first, and then-,“ he stopped, squeezing his eyes closed. 

Lew didn’t have time to waste. 

“Then what happened?” He demanded, making the boy jump.

Winters grabbed his shoulder roughly. “Nix, calm down. Scaring him won’t make him talk any faster.”

Clenching his teeth, he crouched down in front of the private and calmly repeated his question. 

“It was like we kicked a hornet’s nest, sir. They were everywhere. Johnson, Hart, Anderson, and Sechler were gone in-in seconds. (Y/l/n) and I were at the rear when it happened.”

At the mention of her name, Nix could feel his heart clenching in anticipation. 

“(Y/l/n),” he asked shakily. “What happened to (y/l/n)?”

Gulping, the boy’s eyes dropped to the ground. “She told me to run while she covered me, so I did. When I got to the trees she wasn’t far behind me telling me to keep running.”

‘Selfless as always,’ Lew thought to himself. It was one of the things he loved and hated about (y/n) at the same time. He loved the way she cared for others but hated it in situations like the one they were in. (Y/n) (y/l/n) was a fearless leader who would happily lay down her life for those of her men. He prayed it wasn’t the case, but he had to know for sure.

“You saw her go down?” He questioned, fighting tears as he looked down. Ron and Dick shared a saddened glance at the sight of their broken friend.

“Yes, sir. Most of the fire had stopped, so I turned around, but when I did, a single shot rang out and she-she dropped.”

With that sentence, every thought in Lewis Nixon’s mind disappeared and was replaced with a burning rage his friends had never seen before. Before they could intervene, Nix had grabbed the Private by the collar and shoved him up against a nearby cabinet.

“And you just left her there?” He shouted, shoving the man again. “Coward!”

Speirs and Winters sprang into action, prying Nix off of the Private.

“Nix! Stop!” Dick cried. “She wouldn’t want you to act like this.”

Slowly, his thrashing stopped, and Winters let him go. He turned around to face his best friend and softly spoke.

“She can’t be gone, Dick. I refuse to believe she’s gone.”

In a rare show of affection, Dick pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Lew, but we can’t go searching tonight.”

As if he’d been burned, Nix recoiled from his friend and started walking towards the tent entrance. “If you won’t look, I will.”

A hardened look appeared on the redhead's face.

“That’s an order, Nix. No searching tonight.”

Lew didn't acknowledge him as he exited the slight warmth of the tent into the frigid Ardennes. The bitter cold sank into each soldier's bones as they sat in their foxholes each day, and (y/n) had complained about it the day before. The thought of her laying forever cold among the snow turned his insides.

Bile rose to his throat and he hunched over next to a tree as he vomited what little food he had eaten that day. The tears he had been holding back flowed down his cheeks as he slowly made his way back to his foxhole.

Along the way, Luz and Perconte called out to him, but he didn't even hear them. He was too wrapped up in his head as his memories played. Memories of her.

November 1943

In a cozy corner of the café in Aldborne, England, Lewis Nixon took a deep breath. Breaking out in a small sweat, he approached Sergeant (y/n) (y/l/n), who was engrossed in a book.

"Hey there, Sergeant (y/l/n). Mind if I join you? I could use some company that doesn't involve bullets and explosions."

The woman looked up with a hint of amusement in her eyes, gesturing for him to sit.

"Well, Lieutenant..." She prompted, unsure of his name.

Extending his hand, Lew shot her his charming smile. "Nixon, Lewis Nixon."

She shook it with a smirk. "I suppose I can spare a few moments of my valuable reading time for you. But be warned, my standards for company are quite high."

With a playful glint in his eyes, Lew took a seat across from the woman.

"I'm up for the challenge, Sergeant," he chuckled. "Just don't expect me to bring you flowers or serenade you with a love song.

(Y/n)'s hand rose to her heart in mock disappointment. "Oh, what a shame! I was hoping for a romantic serenade right here in the café. Guess I'll have to settle for your delightful conversation."

And what a delight it was.

The more time they spent together between training and on nights out at the local pubs, it was harder for them to deny their attraction. Fraternization was strictly prohibited in the army, and neither wanted to face the consequences if they were ever found out. So they kept their feelings secret, but those around them could see the longing gazes and gentle touches the couple shared.

March 1944

The Aldbourne pub bustled with activity as the locals and soldiers from the nearby base filled the room with laughter and lively conversations. Amongst the crowd, Lew and (y/n) sat at a corner table, their camaraderie and unspoken connection apparent to anyone who cared to observe.

It was a typical Friday evening, and the atmosphere was relaxed. (Y/n)'s warm smile captivated those around her as she was engaged in an animated conversation with a group of soldiers who had become like family. Nix watched her, his gaze filled with admiration, knowing that her charm and kindness drew people in effortlessly.

As the evening progressed, a young man, dressed in civilian attire, entered the pub. His confident demeanor and charismatic presence immediately caught all the ladies' attention. He approached their table, flashing a charming smile.

"Evening, folks," the man greeted, his eyes lingering on (y/n). "Mind if I join you for a drink?"

Lew felt a pang of jealousy shoot through him, his grip on his glass tightening ever so slightly. He knew they weren't a couple, but the connection he shared with (y/n) ran deep. Seeing someone else vying for her attention ignited an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness within him.

(Y/n), always the warm and friendly soul, gestured for the man to take a seat. "Sure, have a seat. We don't mind some company."

As the stranger settled in, he engaged the (y/h/c) in conversation, his words laced with a flirtatious charm. Lewis listened with his jaw clenched as he struggled to suppress the swell of emotions stirring inside him. It seemed that everyone in the pub could sense the unspoken tension between him and (y/n), and their gazes shifted between the trio, observing the dynamics at play.

Unable to bear it any longer, Lew excused himself from the table, his heart pounding in his chest. He made his way to the bar and ordered a drink to calm his racing thoughts. It wasn't that he wanted to claim (y/n) as his own, but the thought of someone else stealing her attention stung him deeply.

As he leaned against the bar, lost in his own thoughts, a voice broke through his reverie. It was (y/n), her footsteps hesitant but determined.

"Lew, can we talk?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his face for any sign of understanding.

He turned to face her, trying to mask the emotions that had consumed him just moments ago. "Sure, (y/n/n). What's on your mind?"

She took a deep breath, her voice earnest. "I noticed you were uncomfortable back there. I want you to know that there's nothing between that man and me. You mean a lot to me, Lewis, and I wouldn't want anything to jeopardize our friendship."

He felt a mixture of relief and vulnerability wash over him. Reaching out, he gently placed a hand on (y/n)'s arm. "(Y/n/n), I trust you. It's not about not trusting you. It's just... seeing someone else vying for your attention made me realize how much you mean to me."

A flicker of surprise danced in the woman's eyes, her expression softening. "Lew... I feel the same way. But we can't, and you know why."

He sighed softly, eyes flickering to her lips momentarily. "I know, doll. It kills me every day."

"Me too, but I'd rather have you as my friend than not have you at all."

D-Day + 1, 1944

In the dense forest of Normandy, the pair found themselves separated after their harrowing jump on D-Day. The chaos of the jump had scattered them, and each of them carried a growing anxiety in their hearts until they could find the other.

Nixon, his mind racing with worry, fought his way through the dense underbrush, desperately searching for any sign of (y/n) amidst the fog of war. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her to the chaotic and treacherous landscape. The far-off sound of gunfire and explosions only fueled his determination to find her.

Her heart pounding with fear, (y/n) moved with urgency through the war-torn forest, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any glimpse of Nixon. The stress of navigating the dark forest made it difficult to focus, but she refused to let despair take hold. She knew that finding him was vital to her own survival, a beacon of hope amid the horrors around her.

As fate would have it, their paths finally converged in a small clearing. Hearing rustling in the trees ahead of her, (y/n) lowly whispered out the call sign.

"Flash!"

"Thunder."

The second she heard the voice, she knew it was him. When both stood up into the small clearing, relief washed over them. Their faces mirrored a mixture of anxiety and sheer joy, and in that instant, the weight they carried lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"Lewis!" (Y/n) quietly called out, her voice filled with equal parts relief and emotion.

"(Y/n/n)!" He replied, his voice catching in his throat. Nix closed the distance between them, embracing her tightly.

"Thank God," Lew whispered, tightening his hold on her smaller frame. "I'm so glad you're okay."

They held each other, taking solace in the fact that they were together once more.

"I was worried I'd lost you," Nixon whispered, his voice trembling with vulnerability.

The (y/h/c)'s grip tightened, her voice filled with unshed tears. "I was so afraid, Lew. I couldn't bear the thought of not finding you."

Their eyes locked, and in that shared gaze, they found solace and understanding.

"Doll, I can't imagine going through this without you," Lewis confessed, his voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and love.

A small smile formed on (y/n)'s lips as she caressed his cheek gently. "Screw the rules, Lew."

With a shared understanding of what they were risking, they leaned in, lips meeting in a tender and desperate kiss. It carried the weight of their anxious hearts, the relief of being together again, and the realization that their love was a beacon of light amidst the darkness of war.

December 1944: Ardennes Forest, Belgium

Finally arriving at his foxhole, Lewis prepared to set out in search of (y/n). As he was quickly gathering his supplies, he heard a faint rustling in the underbrush behind him. Turning around, his heart leaped with a mix of anticipation and trepidation, only to find (y/n) stumbling weakly through the snow-covered trees.

The woman's uniform was torn and bloody and her face was marked with exhaustion and dirt. She looked up, her eyes meeting Nixon's with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"And where exactly are you hurrying off to, soldier?" She weakly croaked.

Shock and joy coursed through Lewis' veins as he rushed to (y/n)'s side, barely able to comprehend that she was alive. When he reached her, it was like her body finally allowed itself to shut down after running on nothing but adrenaline for hours. She collapsed in his arms as her body went limp.

"Medic! We need help here!" Nixon shouted as he lowered them to the ground, the urgency in his voice echoing through the silent forest.

He cradled her head in his lap, his voice a steady reassurance as he urged her to stay awake between shouts for help. Remembering his little medical training from basic, he put pressure on her gunshot wound, which sat just below her collarbone along her right shoulder.

Panic gripped Nixon's heart as he called for a medic again, his voice trembling with desperation.

His arms trembled as he cradled (y/n)'s weakened body, his heart pounding in his chest. Fear and anguish mingled as he pleaded with her to stay conscious. "(Y/n/n), stay with me. Don't you dare give up. Help is coming."

The weight of her limp form pressed against him, and he could feel the life slipping away from her. His voice cracked with emotion as he whispered words of reassurance and love, hoping against hope that she would hear him, even in her weakened state.

"I'm here, doll. You're not alone. I love you," He murmured, his voice filled with tenderness and a profound sense of longing.

Minutes that felt like an eternity passed until finally, the distant sound of hurried footsteps broke through the eerie silence. Roe and Spina, along with Winters and Speirs had arrived, their faces etched with concern.

"Please, help her," Lewis implored, his voice thick with emotion as he stepped back, giving the medic room to work. Dick placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, overlooking his earlier outburst.

The medics immediately got to work, assessing her injuries with skilled hands. Nix watched anxiously, his heart in his throat. The words the medic spoke were a haze in his mind, a blur of technical jargon and medical terminology. However, he was fully aware that (y/n)'s condition was not a good one.

His eyes never left her face, the anguish etched across his features. As the medic worked tirelessly, Lew felt a mixture of helplessness and determination. He prayed fervently for her survival, his heart heavy with the weight of his love for her.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely, the world outside their desperate bubble fading away. She was stabilized and moved to the company's makeshift aid station, where Lew sat next to her. As much as he wanted to split the distance and take her hand, he knew they were not alone, and anyone could burst in at any moment. As hours passed, he began to lose hope.

As the morning sun cast a gentle glow through the canvas of the medical tent, (y/n)'s eyelids fluttered open, and her vision blurred at first. The scent of antiseptic mingled with the sounds of muffled footsteps and whispered conversations. Confusion and a dull ache permeated her body, reminding her of the ordeal she had endured.

Gradually, the fog of unconsciousness lifted, and her gaze focused on the figure sitting beside her bed, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion. It was Lewis, his face etched with worry lines and traces of dried tears. Roe and Spina excused themselves from the tent, knowing they were intruding on a private moment.

"Hi..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Are you okay?"

Tears welled up in Nixon's eyes as he leaned closer, his voice choked with emotion. "Am I okay? You're the one who got shot, doll."

A fragile smile graced (y/n)'s lips, and her hand reached out, seeking his touch. Without hesitation, he took it, gently running his thumb along the top of it.

"How are you feeling?"

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her injured shoulder, which was now in a sling. "I feel like I got run over by a panzer."

A small laugh escaped his lips as he wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "I bet you do, sweetheart."

A few seconds passed before (y/n) broke the silence.

"I heard you, Lew... when I was drifting in and out of consciousness. You said... you loved me," She murmured, her gaze seeking solace in his eyes.

His heart swelled, voice raw with emotion. Nixon held her hand tightly, his voice trembling with sincerity. "I meant it, (y/n/n). I've loved you since that day in the café."

"Good," (y/n) chuckled. "Because I love you, too."

Tears welled in his eyes as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. "I'm so thankful you're here."

"You were the reason I kept fighting to make it back. I was tempted to lay there and give up, but then I thought about you, and I knew I had to get up because I couldn't leave you alone."

His grip on her hand tightened as he brought it up to his lips. "You're right. I can't do any of this without you. I need you here with me."

With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, Lewis leaned closer, his lips gently capturing hers in a kiss that held the power to heal and ignite a fierce sense of hope. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words, a testament to the depth of their love and the strength that had carried them through the darkest times.

As their lips melded together, time seemed to stand still. The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the sensation of their touch and the beating of their hearts. It was a bittersweet blend of longing and relief, the taste of their shared triumph over the jaws of death.

Their kiss conveyed a profound sense of gratitude, each press of their lips conveying the unspoken message of "I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm with you." It was a silent pact; a promise to embrace life fully, treasure every stolen kiss, and navigate the uncertainties of the future side by side.

Finally, as their lips reluctantly parted, they remained locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, their eyes reflecting the depths of their emotions. Their foreheads gently touched, breaths mingling as they silently vowed to savor every moment, to cherish the fragile gift of life that had brought them back together.

Tag List:

@brassknucklespeirs @softguarnere @cetaitlaverite @latibvles

(Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

[xfactor7aurora]

Im so mad ab the think fast breakup I'm so serious

[slimmestslime]

was browsing through my google docs. made a doc doodle

[cowchickenbeefpork]

every day without fail I pace and talk to myself like I’m fucking gollum thinking about how much the Isabella arc could’ve been a amazing arc where Edward goes through a scenario deeply similar to what he did to Kristen if given the right buildup (aka making him slowly get to the mental state where he would date a girl who looks exactly like his first girlfriend no questions asked)

it’s not just the fact Oswald killed Edward’s lover to get to him just what Ed did to Kristen. It’s also the power dymantic, how this was the first person they truly felt like cared for them deeply, the exception. It’s about how they both have power above that emotional investment (Edward being psychically stronger than Kristen, Oswald having financial power over Edward since he is his boss and Edward also lives under him). It is about how they both decided to keep a part of them after the fallout whether it be Edward with Kristen’s glasses or Oswald with Edward’s frozen body. A perverse trophy. IT IS ABOUT HOW BOTH FALLOUTS WERE TAKEN AS A LESSON ABOUT LOVE TO JUSTIFY WHAT THEY DID.

I’m so mad that they fumbled this arc on both sides. I am in deep unspeakable agony as I type this. Honestly their first mistake was writing Isabella to be someone who matched Edward’s freak since they quite literally had that with Oswald. But whatever I don’t care for this mid show

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

I woke up this morning and saw I had a message in my inbox on AO3, presumably about by new fic, and was excited to see the feedback.

When I read what they wrote it was a small comment that said "stop using sudowrite".

Had no idea what that even means, so I had to look it up and found out it's some form of a writing AI.

Absolutely fuming.

I want to make something abundantly clear right now:

I have not been hand writing and editing all of my own stories, hundreds of pages worth of personally hand written or hand typed content for the past 16 years, only to get accused of using any form of lazy ass writing AI now.

This is what I love to do. For fun.

I put in a lot of unpaid time, creativity and energy into my writing and editing. The only thing I ask for in return is participation from the fandoms I love, be it via thoughtful feedback or valid criticisms.

But this is neither of those things. This is just an outright, baseless lie against the art that I have worked so hard to make myself, and I won't be undermined or discredited.

There's anger, and then there's whatever space I am occupying well past it right now.

It's infuriating to pour hours of my love, thought and creativity into original content only to have someone come out of nowhere and try to tell me I've been having an AI do it, especially 16 years deep.

Bitch please.

I also found out that app came out in 2020 . . . As I mentioned, I published my first K/S story in 2008 as Ruby JW on the K/S archives, and my first fanfic on fanfic.net was published in 2007 as luigi_is_stellar.

I invite anyone to peruse my decades-long collection of independent content that I have single-handedly accomplished well before such an app even existed, then come back to me and try to tell me that what I do here isn't authentic.

I don't usually get spicy, but when it comes to the art I spend hours writing and drawing independently with my own blood sweat and tears, yeah. I'm going to get spicy.

I do far too much unpaid work out of passion and love for this fandom to have such a serious accusation flung my way out of nowhere.

It's the first time in my 16 years of writing for this fandom that I've ever been accused of plagiarism, and you best trust and believe that I don't take that accusation lightly. I work too damn hard to let someone discredit the work I do personally in such a baseless manner.

Anyway, that was discouraging AF. I am boggled to learn that AI writing is even a thing, no less someone coming out of the woodwork to try to accuse me of using it 16 years into story publishing when I literally teach academic honesty and writing ethics in my line of paid work as an English professional.

Genuinely: Do you know who you're talking to?

A bit of background on me:

I come from a not-so-wealthy family who could not afford to pay to put me through school -- I paid for that all on my own. I had to earn my University English degree, one of four University degrees I hold on my own work and pay alone, without so much as a tutoring session or handout from home.

Not once would I have jeopardized everything I worked so hard and paid for out of my own pocket as a poor ass uni student working two jobs and doing night classes just to phone it in plagiarizing, not on one ounce of my work.

That was all me.

I've handwritten 3 MLA essays in under three hour exams BACK TO BACK, immediately followed by back-to-back Biology exams & a final lab where I ALSO had to write multiple essays and switch from MLA to APA mode within the span of 6 hours.

Those were all bound in handwritten yellow booklets well before we ever had Google Docs, Grammarly, formatting suggestions, or even regularly brought/had access to laptops in UNI. I did my work by hand.

I earned my degrees in English and Biology AT THE SAME TIME before I even turned 24. I earned a double major handwriting my own work papers like my life depended on it, and you actually think I'm about to phone it in now?

Step to me like that again, young blood. I ain't the one.😂

Anyway, I digress.

Ya girl ain't here to fight BC y'all know I tend to be very easygoing, full of humour, and I love to joke around in the fandom. I'm pretty wide open to opposing opinions or even criticisms. But this is unfounded slander, and I won't be taking that on the chin.

When it comes to my work, I take that very seriously, and I don't play around. My late father once told me that "The work you do and the degrees you earn are yours and yours alone, they can never take that education from you." I live by that sentiment, and have done so by putting forth honest work.

Be it paid or unpaid work, it's my work. Periodt.

It is an unfathomably disheartening and insulting message to receive as someone who writes all their own stuff themselves, draws all their own fanart themselves, does their own photo edits themselves, edits their writing themselves, and has never even used so much as a single outside beta reader/editor for my work. Not once. The art, the writing, the editing -- It's all me.

Bottom line:

Say you do or don't like my work, that's cash money and we good, whether it's your cup of tea or not.

Butt know that it is my work.

I will not put all of this free time, effort and love into my work only to be accused of lazily ripping the content that I have spent hours writing and personally editing from somewhere else.

And on that note, consider my PSA rant ended.

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday (MLC longfic again!)

Now that my amnesia fic is posted, it's time for more of my MLC longfic! At long last, LLH is awake again . . . and not doing that well.

(You can find earlier excerpts here.)

CW/TW: Panic attack, bicha flare, suicidal ideation

Something was different. The pain was there as always, waiting to devour him whole once he acknowledged it, but there was something else, something blanketing it, muting it somehow.

Li Lianhua stretched out his senses like a limb and tried to make sense of it.

Ah. Warmth. That was the strange sensation. Warmth–heat, even–all around him–his back, his chest, his legs, even his fingers, which had been more like blocks of ice than flesh and blood these last few months.

He leaned back, pushing into the banked heat behind him. The solid core of warmth tucked against his front from navel to neck twitched, then pressed against him more securely, as though it could make a home for itself inside his sternum, ribs, and spine and heat him from within.

He felt warm everywhere.

Well, almost everywhere.

He rolled forward slightly, wiggled further down on the bed, and tugged the core of warmth up higher. He curled his arms and shoulders around it and nestled the bit in his hand between his face and the pillow until it cradled his cheek. 

Much better.

He smiled into his new, warmer pillow and let himself start to relax back into sleep.

“Xiangyi?”

The warmth against his face gradually took shape as his skin and mind began to wake. That was a finger–no, several fingers. A hand. A large hand. And those calluses–how could he not know them when they had clashed steel with him, choked him, clinked brimming cups of wedding wine with him, even been inside him, taking him apart with a gentleness he hadn’t known they could profess.

He let his awareness spread throughout his body, setting aside the pain, and yes, that was a-Fei’s chest he had pressed himself against, like Huli Jing requesting head scritches, and those were a-Fei’s legs, tangled with his, and that was a-Fei’s breath rustling his hair–less now than it had been a moment ago–and that was indeed a-Fei’s arm he was clutching like a child would a favorite toy. 

But a-Fei had been holding him first.

Why was a-Fei holding him? It was one thing to wake up in each others’ arms in the newly wed room, after their  . . . exertions. Before a-Fei knew that any real dream of a future was doomed to fail.

But to hold him now? After he’d given away the wangchuan flower and left a-Fei behind, left their promise behind? To hold him like he still mattered. Like he wasn’t a curse who killed everyone he’d ever cared about. Like he was some sort of treasure . . .

Treasure . . . 

Cabinets stained in blood, Xiaobao’s blood–

“Xiaobao,” he gasped, flinging himself free and to his feet. Where was Xiaobao? He had to find him, had to heal him, before it was too late–

“Xiangyi! Sit down!” A-Fei caught him as his legs buckled and lowered him back onto the bed. 

Why wasn’t Xiaobao here? Had he killed him, too, just like he killed everyone he cared about? 

“Duobing,” a-Fei roared. “Get in here. Now!” Callused fingers cupped both sides of his face, turning it gently but firmly toward him. “Xiangyi, look at me. He’s alright. He’s on his way.” 

“How could he be alright?” Li Lianhua gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the already blurry world turning more hazy. “I saw the blood!”

“I healed him. He’s safe,” a-Fei said, cradling his head as though he could hold the shattering pieces of his mind together. “Now breathe.” 

Li Lianhua choked on an inhale, his lungs spasming, only managing to draw in a desperate wheeze.

A-Fei cursed and dropped to his knees by the bed, pressing one hand to Li Lianhua’s back and the other to his chest, filling both with a familiar warmth that began to break apart the iron bands strangling his throat and lungs. “Try again. Feel my hands. Press against them when you inhale.”

The next breath shook and spluttered like a dying candle but some air squeaked through nonetheless.

“Good.” A-Fei gave his back a short supportive pat. “Again.”

Lotus Tower shook as footsteps pounded toward the bed. “What’s wrong?” panted a beautifully familiar, impossible voice. “Xiaohua’er?”

“Bicha,” a-Fei growled, rising from the floor to kneel on the bed at his side, his hands still bracketing him on either side. “He thinks you’re dead. Show him the scab.”

“Shit,” the Xiaobao-shaped hallucination cursed. It seemed especially cruel of hallucinations to now match the blurriness of their surroundings. It made them seem far too real.

The hallucination knelt at his feet and took his hands. “It’s me, Xiaohua’er,” it said, tears in its eyes and voice. “I’m alright. A-Fei healed me. See?” It brought his hand up to a spot on the back of his skull and pressed his fingers to a crusted, raised line on its scalp. “I’m right here and I’m alright. Do you believe me?”

He could feel it. Why could he feel it? His fingers had always passed through hallucinations before. And even when he’d dreamt of Xiaobao, or of a-Fei, of holding them again, it hadn’t felt as real as this. His fingers traced the ridges of the scab–a perfectly neat seam–then the silk curtain of hair that covered it. 

This was Xiaobao’s hair. The texture, the thickness, what he could see of the color–no hallucination could do justice to this. 

This was his Xiaobao.

He was alive.

“Xiaobao,” he cried, turning his head this way and that to make sure it was the only injury. “You’re alright!”

Xiaobao’s bright smile shone through despite the haze his eyes imposed on everything. “Told you. No harm done. So focus on taking care of yourself, ok, lao huli?”

Li Lianhua huffed out a wet attempt at a scoff and bopped the side of his head. “No harm? What do you call this?”

Xiaobao captured his hands with his and brought them down from his head to rest between them. “Less serious than a Bicha attack. How are you feeling?”

Li Lianhua blinked. A Bicha attack? He turned his attention inward to his qi, and–

Ah. There was a-Fei’s Beifeng Baiyang, somehow wrapped around his Yangzhouman and pushing the last of the poison back into the recesses where it would lie in wait, coiled and ready for the next attack. The black tinge was almost gone from his veins.

He had been so worried about Xiaobao that he hadn’t even realized.

A-Fei had probably saved his life. Again. 

He shouldn’t have bothered.

[sanddollarpoems]

Back to feeling incapable

Back to feeling like a failure

Imposter syndrome raging

I'm a kid in grown-up clothes

I blame my learning disabilities

I blame Mercury in retrograde

I blame my parent's need for perfection

Which became my own campaign

But under all of it, I fear

That maybe I'm just bad at life

Maybe I'm stupid after all

Or maybe I'm really worthless

[youmaycallmeyourhighness]

WIP Wednesday - Mad Scientist Jinx

Jinx and Ekko stand back to back, pressed tight in the tiny container as it steadily fills up with water. No amount of stabbing or prying or kicking will get them out. Any bomb Jinx sets off will badly injure them at the very least. They're gonna die in here.

"Y'know I was alone too?" Ekko growls as he shifts, water lapping at their knees.

"What?" Jinx asks, her voice reverberating in their tiny coffin.

"I lost everyone. Same as you. I was alone, did you ever think about that, that I was just as scared and alone as you were?"

"Yeah, well, you've got a bunch of friends now so I don't know what you're crying about." Jinx scoffs.

"Well maybe I wanted my best friend." Ekko shoots back. "Maybe Vi coming back meant just as much to me, maybe I wanted my family back too."

Jinx is silent and lets Ekko's voice bounce around, it's tinny, almost like the voices in her head. He slogs his legs through the water, still trying to escape. Jinx sits still, watching detachedly as the water slowly creeps higher. It's over, she's going to die, really and truly. This isn't like playing fast and loose with her tonic, or having shaves with her bombs. She's going to drown. Hiding just seems pointless.

"I just…wanted to keep her around before she realized I wasn't her sister anymore."

Ekko pushes against her, still trying to escape. "What?"

"Vi's sister is weak and helpless and innocent." Jinx rests the back of her head on Ekko's shoulder. "Do I look innocent to you?"

Ekko scoffs.

"I know you don't wanna hear this, but I missed you." Jinx croaks.

Ekko scoffs again but Jinx presses on.

"I'm serious, I really did. I thought you were dead, and by the time I realized you weren't, I was so…different." Jinx's voice cracks. "I couldn't handle it, that everyone was gone and it was my fault. So I had to become someone else, someone who could take it, someone who could do it again on purpose." Jinx blinks back tears.

"What are talking about?" Ekko asks, sounding confused and frustrated and maybe even scared.

Jinx never told him what happened, icy fear keeping it down even though he'd already wanted nothing to do with her. It was one thing for her to chase him off, pretending that she'd actually shoot him. It was something else entirely to make the same mistake twice and have him reject her.

"I didn't want you to leave me too." She whispers.

"You didn't even give me a chance." Ekko's voice wobbles.

The water is up to their necks now, there's only so long they can hold their breath.

"I'm sorry. For everything."

"I'm sorry too."

The water's at their chins, they're both struggling to keep their head above water, pretending they don't hear the other sobbing.

"Hey Ekko?" Jinx lets her tears fall freely. "If we get out of this, do you wanna play paintball with me?"

Ekko's hand finds hers and he interlocks their fingers. "Yeah," He sniffs. "I'll win this time."

They both laugh. The water goes over their heads. Ekko takes a big breath, Jinx does not.

[adaines-furious-feast]

Hey, has anybody written an Ankarna one on one with each of the Rat Grinders like she did with the Bad Kids asking them what justice they want or am I going to have to do that too?

[grimbeak]

i don't even really care about the possibility of never hearing from kevin again im mostly just mad about 250. like i never got the sense of loss from losing kevin i mainly got that from lauren. also the shock of that stupid ass abuse dialogue. but like. if we get an episode of kevin by himself without one of his partners (lauren / charles & donovan / cecil & carlos) then what's even the point.

[mads-weasley]

y'all, speak now taylor's version is really getting my creative juices flowing for our easy company boys, especially her song "timeless," from the vault!

THESE LYRICS:

"You still would've turned my head even if we'd met...

On a crowded street in 1944, And you were headed off to fight in the war. You still would've been mine. We would have been timeless. I would've read your love letters every single night, And prayed to God you'd be comin' home all right. And you would've been fine, We would have been timeless."

HOW IS SHE THIS TALENTED😭😭😭

[kirkwallguy]

They sanitized being queer so much in Veilguard and for what. Your Inquisitor still needs to be binary, and god forbid if they transitioned between games. And for what, Cullen and Solas? Girl, dump him and take his gender. It won't fix you but it'll make shit funnier.

IF more than one romance actually mattered id understand it being too complicated to allow for transition, but seriously? only solas gets more than a codex entry afaik, how hard it would have been to have the m inquisitors record voice lines and have gareth david lloyd record alternate versions of like..any gendered lines which i assume there aren't many of. they should have dropped the illusion that romances had content and just done a 'did you romance solas?' toggle that any inquisitor could turn on lol

[saltyfilmmajor]

Thinking about the Heishin confession dynamics again

[denkies]

"Mob's not autistic!!!" my brother in christ he literally has a book titled "How To Read Social Cues"

[lovetogether]

Something we liked about mouthwashing is that it had characters which fit into the “ostracized by society” group but made it very clear these people were much different from the actual perpetrator. It’s too often “social fuck-ups” are lumped together, giving true abusers a place to hide. Pointing that shit out as what it is and that it’s very much NOT the same as, say, being an alcoholic, meant a lot to us. One is a place somebody lands in, the other is an act the person in question has full control over.

[not-5-rats]

I am the antagonist in everyone's story

No matter what I do it's wrong to all around

I try to impress, try to please, try with all my might

Yet still my actions are a bother to everyone in sight

☆

Everywhere I go I feel their eyes on my back

They point at me and whisper, about all of my traits

I truly believe they don't notice my eye nor my ear

As if they did they wouldn't say such things till I dissapear

☆

I've been told I'm crazy, that I see what isn't there

Nobody cares what I do, they barely notice me pass

Whilst this may be true the stress of my vision is still my reality

The more people deny my sight the more I feel like an abnormality

☆

The way I see the world is far beyond repair

And by trying to fix is I instead force others to see it the same as I do

I see the world as a harsh place, all living things working against me

Yet whenever I try to share my dread I simply spread it from myself to thee

☆

I am the antagonist in everyone's story

Even if they don't know who I am, they hate me nonetheless

I ache to be different, to see the world the same as you

But we all know that will never happen, I can never change my view