#my wriitng

[iamktb206]

You can read the COMPLETE version of this poem (“THIS SHIMMERING NOTHING”) published in FLARE Magazine’s second issue right here!

TIP JAR 🍯

A little something for Valentine’s Day. A little something I’m working on.

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time He Scared The Life Out Of Me”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: metal-vocalist!Sukuna, fluff, you’re both basically frenemies

Word Count: 1.4k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

You and Sukuna don’t tend to be home at the same time, you’d think you would see him all the time considering, you know, you live together and all, but you honestly don’t really know all that much about him. You know he rides a motorcycle, ‘cause every time he pulls up to the apartment late at night it’s blaring loud engine wakes you up, and you know he listens to metal music because it’s blasting through his speaker in the bathroom right now as he’s taking a shower next to your room; maybe he’s going deaf, that’s probably a safe assumption considering everything around him is so loud.

Hell, everything about him is loud. Not only literally, like how he can never walk to your room to come get you and instead opts to yell across the apartment, but it’s as if every aspect of him doesn’t know subtlety. He’s always wearing over the top clothes, spiked leather jackets, torn to shreds t-shirts, jeans with patches sewn into every available spot, his pink hair and his face tattoos drawing everyone’s attention, everything is so maximalist. And his personality, you swear he’s never backed down from anything. Anything he does, he does it with passion, he does it big, and he does it bold.

Basically, you don’t know peace when he’s home, and you especially don’t know peace this morning, being rudely awoken by his blaring music in the bathroom between both of your bedrooms. Technically it’s not his fault that this overpriced apartment only has one bathroom, but for Christ’s sake it’s six in the morning, what is he even doing awake right now?

You grab your pillow from under your head and smother your face underneath it, attempting anything to be able to sleep in on your day off.

He drives me fucking insane.

The pillow definitely helps muffle the sound, but it’s not enough; and it definitely isn’t enough to cover the sudden low growling coming from the bathroom. You slowly uncover your face, brows furrowed as you’re trying to figure out what that noise is before it suddenly jumps in volume, like some kind of scream, making you nearly jump out of your bed. What the fuck is that? Did a pipe burst? Did the ceiling collapse?

It sounds like some kind of lion- or maybe a demon, horrific screaming growls coming from the next room. You slowly raise yourself off of your bed, timidly stepping out of your room and taking a few steps to stand outside of the bathroom door. It’s definitely coming from in there, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to have any reaction to it. Surely there’s no way he doesn’t hear that, right?

Oh my god, he really is going deaf isn’t he?

“Sukuna?!” You yell from the other side of the door, the low growling sound abruptly stops.

“What?” He yells back, he sounds annoyed. Annoyed? You’re trying to save him from a lion that just fell through the ceiling, or… something, and he’s seriously annoyed?

“What the fuck is that noise?” You can hear the shower stop running and his music shut off, after a moment of waiting the door swings open. Sukuna stands before you, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his pink bangs hanging over his eyes, dripping water down his cheeks.

“What? You don’t like it?” He grins at you before turning to face the mirror, swiping his palm over the fogged up glass to create a clearing to see his reflection in.

“It sounded like something was dying, please tell me that wasn’t you.” You step into the steamy bathroom, leaning your back against the wall and watching his grin grow wider through his reflection in the blurry mirror.

Sukuna grabs a clean towel from the floor, rubbing it over his hair and down his face, his voice muffled through the fabric, “I was practicing.”

He drops the towel from his face and drapes it around the back of his neck, glancing back at you in the mirror as he combs his hair out of his face with his fingers, he bites his lip to try and hide the snarky grin spreading across his face when he sees the confused look you give him, “Practicing for what? Are you auditioning to play a monster in a play or something?”

“Oh please,” He rolls his eyes and turns to face you, you’re not fast enough to catch your gaze before it drifts down to the droplets of water running down his tattooed abs and he simply snaps his fingers in front of your face to grab your attention back, seemingly unfazed by you accidentally checking him out, “I’m in a band, believe it or not I do the vocals.”

A faint blush started to paint your cheeks, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the way your jaw drops in mock horror, “Oh my god, that was you singing?”

“Oh fuck off,” He huffs out a short laugh, “I’m in a metal band, I actually scream.” He grabs the towel from around his neck, tossing it over your head and pushing past you to walk to his room.

“Hey! Asshole,” You tear the towel down from your face, letting it plop onto the tile at your feet, “You can’t just scream first thing in the morning! You scared the fuck out of me!”

He turns around to face you, wrapping a large hand around the top of the doorframe and leaning his side against it, “Consider us even then, you got me real good when you woke me up to you screaming Bloody Mary over a little fuckin’ spider.”

“That was different, I was scared! That’s a normal reason to scream!”

“Yeah?” He leans down to be eye level with you, speaking in a mocking tone, “Well I saw how much you shed all over the shower and was horrified.”

“You’re such a dick,” You turn to pull the shower curtain back, “There’s not even- oh, well, there’s like two strands, god forbid.”

He grins as he stands back at his full height, taking a few steps back into the hall and opening up the door to his room, you quickly follow behind him, looking up towards him, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you’re in a band?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping the door open as he walks into his dimly lit room, “You never asked.”

You stand in his doorway, peering around his room. The walls are covered in posters and some most likely stolen street signs, but aside from the eclectic decor it’s surprisingly neat, “Is your music any good?”

He opens his closet door and then turns his head to face you, speaking to you in a monotone voice, “Can I put some clothes on or do you wanna talk to me with my cock out?”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you toss your hands up into the air defensively, turning around to give him some privacy, “My bad.”

You can hear Sukuna chuckle behind you and the quiet sounds of fabric moving around his skin, “Is it good? Well, you’d probably think it sounds like… what did you say? A dying animal?”

You grin and bite the inside of your cheek, “A dying animal or maybe the horrific screams of the unknown, either one.”

He lets out a satisfied hum, “Horrific screams of the unknown is a good album name, I’ll have to write that down.”

“I’ll be expecting royalties.”

“Don’t expect shit,” You suddenly feel a wet towel smack against your back, making you jump and yell out in surprise, “Brat.”

“Ew!” You turn around to find him standing right behind you, smug grin plastered on his face and both of his hands shoved into the pockets of the black sweatpants he threw on, opting out of putting on a shirt and instead leaving his tattooed torso on full display.

“Hm? Thought you’d want that,” He snaps his fingers in front of your face again, “Freak.”

Oh, oh he knows what he’s doing. You didn’t even realize how you were looking at him before he caught you, but it’s not like it’s your fault that he looks like that.

You let out a groan and turn around to walk down the hall to your room, “I’m going back to bed.”

He really drives me insane more than I thought he would.

Little do you know, he’s thinking a similar thought about you.

A/N: THIS is the one I intended to be the first part before I got too excited and wrote the one where y’all quarantine together instead, but shhhh we can just pretend this one takes place before that!! Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[xoxoyenn]

DRUNK REGRETS

⌗ sabrina carpenter x fem!reader

၄၃ — (sweetheart!reader comes home from a party drunk and her darling girlfriend takes care of her.)

You barely make it to the couch before collapsing onto it with a groan, burying your face into the cushions. The world is spinning. You swear you can still hear the bass from last night’s party thumping in your skull.

And then, like a guardian angel in an oversized sweater, Sabrina appears.

“Oh, babe…” Her voice is soft, laced with amusement but mostly concern. She crouches beside you, brushing stray strands of hair from your clammy forehead. “I told you not to let Liv pick your drinks.”

You whine in response, curling further into yourself. “I didn’t let her. She just—she just handed me stuff, and I was too weak to say no.”

Sabrina chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re a sweetheart, baby, but you have to learn the power of no.”

“I’ll practice,” you mumble. “Tomorrow.”

She shakes her head, amused, before slipping an arm under your shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get you in bed before you pass out here.”

It takes some effort, mostly from her, but she manages to guide you to your shared bedroom. You practically melt onto the bed, sighing dramatically as she tucks you in.

“You’re an angel,” you murmur, voice muffled by the pillow.

“I know.” She smirks, pressing another kiss to your cheek. Then, she disappears into the kitchen, only to return a few minutes later with a glass of water and some Advil. “Here, baby. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

You grumble but obey, swallowing the pills with a grimace. Sabrina watches you with a fond smile, her fingers absentmindedly tracing soothing patterns on your arm.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you mumble sleepily. “Do you—do you secretly like it when I’m a mess?”

Sabrina laughs, climbing into bed beside you. “No, I just love you. Even when you smell like tequila and regret.”

You hum in contentment, nuzzling into her warmth. “Best girlfriend ever.”

She pulls you close, letting you rest your head against her chest. “I know, sweetheart.”

And with her heartbeat in your ear and her fingers gently stroking your back, you drift off, safe and loved—even in your hungover misery.

[whereserpentswalk]

Hermit crabs are weird animals. They don't make their own shells, they steal them. If you live in a coastal city like I do you'll be somewhat familiar with weird creatures that live in the ocean but aren't fish. And sea snails don't shed shells, they only leave behind shells when they die. Hermit crabs are living in corpses basically, sometimes long dead corpses.

So when you did. Mabye something will want your bones. The hard parts of your body you leave behind after the soft parts are all gone. Something that doesn't have bones of it's own to enjoy and to keep it steady.

And whatever takes your bones won't do it out of disrespect. It needs those bones just like you once needed them. Those bones will keep it safe and alive just like they once kept you safe and alive. It's not a human taking them, but it's still something that will use and love those bones just like a human would. And you don't need them anymore.

So mabye, if you're ever near an empty beach in the winter, or a forgotten bit of rock under a bridge, or a mostly empty subway station in a coastal neighborhood, leave some human remains out. There's something that might be living there that could use them. Not as a sacrifice, but as a gift to a neighbor.

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

-

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

-

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

-

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

-

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) asking for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

-

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

-

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

-

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol

[emmyfairy]

Jack Abbot x pastlove! Dr! reader

im fucking feral for jack and robby like someone sedate me (one of them preferably) reblog if you enjoy!

Doctor Jack Abbot was a clinically precise man. He didn't let his personal life leak into his professional, and he liked it that way.

Every month was the same, every week, every day. Wake up as the sun approaches setting, quick workout, cold shower, and breakfast to fuel. Everything was calculated and purposeful, he wanted to ensure he was at best capacity as he could be at every moment, he believed that was the right of his patients. Viewing himself as a tool more than a man at times. But that’s how he got by.

So when the hospital was even more understaffed than usual, a flu hitting staff that did stick around, he wasn't surprised to hear that admin had put out a call to anyone available to help out. The hospital was a machine that needed to keep running, and it needed more parts to do so. 

Yet, the ED was still left wanting. Maybe it was personal vendetta from the board or from admin, but they remained understaffed and understocked. The nightshift was even worse off, himself often being the only doctor on call, and while he knew he was capable, he knew he was the right person for the job, he also knew it wasn't enough. Whether he was too proud to admit he needed help or not is another story. But he knew what he had to do. If they weren't going to get him more help he'd do it himself.

Abbot needed someone he knew he could work with, someone who could work with him. Not just in the same department but alongside him. Someone who knew the ins and outs. Someone he could trust. 

And there was only ever one person who could fit that role (besides Robby)

Yet he hesitated, something he never does. Because he knew that getting this help may not be so easy. In fact, this help would be quite undeserved. 

He tried anyway. Reaching out with a professional email, and maybe it was cowardly but he couldn't bring himself to open the contact in his phone.

The email went unanswered, he wasn't surprised. He had earned this. 

Then, less than a week later, he heard the ED doors slide open, the same sound as always, but this felt different. 

Now, Jack Abbot is not a man who believes in fate or clandestine anything, but he knew in his gut that when he looked up he'd see you. 

He was right.

There you stood, dressed and with a bag slung over your shoulder. 

He could hardly command his body to move towards you, to meet you half way. His chest and brain are screaming at him in tandem to both run away and towards you. 

Instead of showing his internal struggle he put on the suave mask he had perfected over the years, 

“You came.” he says, perhaps softer than he meant to.

“You called.” a statement, not as laced with feelings as he had maybe hoped it would be. 

He looks down, still unsure of how much excitement to show. 

You sigh, “I’m a doctor Jack. I saw the outreach call, then your email… I'm here for the patients, not you.”

With that you walked around him, approaching the desk to get yourself settled and into contact with the right higherups. 

He pushes out a gust of air, ouch. Yet, as much as your coldness hurt, he knew he deserved it. Maybe even worse. 

It had been a week since your arrival, and you had talked to Abbot. You had discussed patients, charts, cared for incoming traumas together. 

Anyone who had witnessed this could swear they'd never seen anything like it. 

The two of you moved so in tandem that you wouldn't be able to tell whose hands were whose under the blue gloves.the two of you worked so seamlessly and in cohesion, words were hardly needed, you both just knew. Practically one person, the two of you had the nightshift down to a science.

So yes, you had talked to Abbot. Professionally. Anything outside of this? Not a word.

And it killed him. 

There were a few times he tried to reach out, bringing you a hot drink, sitting on the bench beside you during a break, offering to chart for you. Nothing worked, each olive branch rejected and turned away.

A few more days later he had enough. The flu had passed and staffing was back to normal. He heard through the grapevine though, that you had been offered a permanent position. Your competence shining through brightly enough that it couldn't be ignored. You said you'd think about it. And Abbot knew for damn sure, that this was an opportunity you would've snatched quicker than anyone else. But you hesitated. And he knew it was because of him.

He had enough, so after shift change instead of bidding each other a curt goodbye he ran up to catch you on your walk out. 

“We need to talk. Now.” Maybe he should've been nicer about it, but you never did enjoy being coddled. 

He knew you were going to say no before you could open your mouth. So he ignored the glare in your eye, ducking his head to make eye contact, hoping to convey his need with his own look.

Evidently it worked, you straightened up. And grunted out a terse, “Fine.” 

Back in Abbot’s house, neither of you thought your hotel room would be the appropriate venue for something you knew would blow up, the two of you stood in his kitchen.

Abbot on one side of the kitchen island, and you on the other, cooling cups of tea between you, and the sun beginning to shine through the windows. 

After the night you had both had, he wanted nothing more than to sit, the part of his leg that met the prosthetic screaming at him to rest it, he could feel the skin beginning to chafe. But he wanted to meet you par for par, and if you were standing so would he. Or so he thought.

“Sit down Jack.” The message was a caring one, delivered like venom. You knew him too well. Knew his pride would stop him from taking care of himself.

“Why won't you take the job? You know it's perfect for you.” he asks.

Looking down you think over your reply, “I don't know if I can be here, be here with you.” The guilt he kept locked away sent a tremor through him at your vulnerable honesty.

“If you still hate me so much, why did you come? Someone else could've filled in.” he knew it was mean and a cheapshot but Dr. Abbot had a way of screwing things like this up. 

Finally you look up and meet his eye, and it shakes him. The look in your eyes, they're red and teary, but filled with such an angry fire he knew you haven't forgiven him yet.

“It’s just going to happen again Jack, the same old shit as last time. If I stay, I’ll do good, so good, and you won't be able to handle someone out shining you. Just like always.” 

They always said the truth hurts, and damn well does it. 

Abbot remembered. Of course he did. What he did to hurt you, was his biggest regret. Not something he could ever forget, or even forgive himself for. 

He was well out of deployment. He’d had himself fixed up medically, psychologically, and professionally. Abbot didn't waste time, he wouldn't let himself. 

He couldn't just let go of the rush of the field, so where better to mimic that chaos that the ED in a major New York hospital?

That's where he met you. Already well established there, starting a whole three months before he did, the two of you hit it off. He'd never met anyone who could keep up with him so well. You were a match on the unit, and out of it.

There was no denying the chemistry between the two of you. And Abbot, who did not believe in luck and the universe, fell in love with you. Hard. 

He let himself believe you felt the same way. Weeks after you said it, he finally let himself truly accept it. That someone loved him.

And it was perfect. He had everything he could need inside and outside of work. Until he didn't. 

It was stupid, the hospital had a big function to thank its staff, and at said function you had been awarded some sort of honor for your hard work and dedication, most patients saved consecutively they had said. You laughed and accepted the little trophy, saying you were just doing your job. 

He knew you deserved it, you were amazing afterall, but he couldn't help the evil twist of jealousy in his gut. 

That was the end of it all.

Small arguments grew more frequent, and into larger ones, he started taking longer shifts, and everything changed.

All of a sudden the two of you weren't the two of you anymore. It came to a head one night when you called out his jealousy, confused yourself over it. Why can't he be happy for you? You're a team after all? But it wasn't enough. And he found himself in Pittsburgh and you stayed in New York City. 

He just had to be the best didn't he? 

Now here you were, facing him with the same pain he’d caused all that time ago. 

But it was different now, he was different. And he needed you to forgive him. He needed you. More than anything. 

He opened his mouth up to say something but you cut him off,

“You know that if you call I’ll come, damnit Jack I’ll run if need be. But I'm so afraid of outshining you again and losing to your ego.” You cried out, moving to stand in front of his seat, eyes boring down into his pleading ones. 

“Please, please change your mind about staying. Outshine me by all means, I expect, I look forward to it. Just, just stay. With me.” Starting out impassioned, his decree ended in a whisper, tears filling his own eyes at the thought of all of this being for naught.

“Jack…”

He pressed his forehead to yours, anchoring himself, a man changed, and ready to show you that he has changed.

A deep breath,

“I love you.”

[theawkwardwriter2810]

Villain x Hero [All good things come in threes]

The apartment was dark, the lights off and the windows covered with the curtains. 

Hero slowly closed the door behind him, careful to not make a sound. 

He took in the room. The living room was empty, everything where it should be except for the blood trailing to his bedroom from the window. Hero sighed, he knew who was here and he wished that they would have at least used the key he gave them instead of making more work for the hero by using the fire escape. 

Hero grabbed the first aid kit under the kitchen sink and made his way to the bedroom. 

Inside laying on the bed, like the hero expected to find them, was villain. Their eyes closed, barely breathing. Hero calmed himself with the idea that at least the villain was awake enough when they entered to put the plastic tarp he keeps next to the bed over the sheets. 

Hero sat next to the villain and startet patching the scratch on the villain’s stomach, stopping every now and then to check that the villain was still asleep. It was an angry ugly scratch starting from under the villain’s belly button, hero tried to not notice the villain’s abs, up to just under their heart. 

Hero saw the fight from the Tv at the cafe he was working at, unable to leave under threat of losing his job. All he could do was pray and hope the villain stayed safe. Seemingly his prayers weren't answered, but at least he could take care of the villain now.

[smart-academic-solutions]

How does it truly end🥲🥲🫠

[grumblegrumpinactive]

burden - errorink fic

Ink sat in a hammock of string, dangling idly above Error’s beanbag. The anti-void was far from his favorite place, it was cold in a way that couldn’t make you shiver. Cold like the hollow in his chest where a soul would have been.

Ink was convinced he could fix it with some murals, but Error refused to let him anywhere near his void if he carried any form of pigment— a frequent source of controversy between them. But it was the only place Error was willing to be during an episode, so Ink forced himself there— that’s what a person in love would do, right?

He stayed up there for a good while, swinging his arms up and using the strings as an aerial silks course… until Error groaned softly from below. The destroyer had been glitching badly all day, his body racked with painful twitches and convulsions, the glowing symbols and alerts blocking his eyes, which frequently teared up— at a few points that day Ink had even seen blood leaking from a slash across his glitching torso.

Ink tried painting magic onto him, it didn’t do much except turn him and his beanbag fun colors. He had waved chocolate in front of him, and all the glitch had done was whimper. It seemed like the two of them were just going to have to wait it out, like they always had…

But while Ink was up in that string web, twirling and twisting and trying to entertain himself, Error sat up and screeched.

“Bug?” was all Ink could blurt out inbetween his partner’s screams, but the nickname seemed to register in Error’s panicked mind. ‘Bug’, like a computer bug, an endearing little name Ink had called him for so long just to annoy him, now being used to soothe him.

By the time his glitches had faded enough for him to see, all Error’s mismatched eye lights could register was someone tucking him in. He was still screaming, he thought, but maybe it was a hallucination. He couldn’t tell with most things during glitch attacks, but he did know one thing— he was talking. To someone. Someone he loved.

He hadn’t loved anyone in a very long time, had he? And although it wasn’t how he thought, this person did love him back, didn’t they?

As Ink finished tucking Error in and trying to calm him down, his yellow and red eye sockets locked onto Ink’s, and through a garbled, repeating, broken radio of a throat, he managed to whisper two words.

“take it.”

Ink stared, wondering what his partner could possibly mean, before the glitch grabbed at his shirt and moaned in pain. his eye flared with a forced spasm of magic, and within seconds his soul was clearly visible, hovering above his chest. Ink made some horrible sound, he had never seen someone take out their own soul just to avoid pain… but those words echoed again.

“take it,”

This time, it was followed by a desperate, pained “please.” Error would never plead with anyone for anything ever, so this situation was clearly… well, for lack of a better term, an anomaly.

And although Ink wouldn’t say it, this would benefit him too. Just once, he wanted to have a soul. Just… once. Was he putting himself first? Probably. Do people in love do that? He didn’t know, a voice in his head said otherwise, but he chose to ignore it. Without hesitation, he plucked Error’s destabilizing soul from his chest, and absorbed it.

First came the pain, blinding and screaming and searing across his chest and belly…

Then came the EMOTION. He could almost touch it, it was so strong in the air around him. he wanted to fold himself up and cry and throw up… but fortunately, the part of his brain that wanted to learn to love took over.

The artist linked ink-stained, spindly fingers around tremor ridden thick ones, and whispered something just as anomalous as Error’s whispered plea.

“is this okay?”

From the now-still glitch came a croaked reply, inaudible but clear in meaning. Error needed help, someone to help him carry his soul when it began to fall apart. Ink knew he’d probably always be there to pick up the pieces… but Error sure hadn’t. One exhausted glance between them dissolved into weak giggles, leading to an Undernovela binge and pizza night… and for the first time, the two of them actually felt like they knew what it was to be loved.

[veifei]

veifei thoughts (little headcanons/scenarios i may or may not expand)

one time xia fei broke/lost his phone, worrying vein enough that he shows up at xia fei's place unannounced when his calls go unanswered — xf is only a little apologetic and moreso whiny about how much it's gonna cost to replace it. the next day when xia fei stops by the agency on of vein's assistants hand him a box. of course, it's a new phone, and the latest model too. as soon as he turns it on vein gives him a call ("ah great, this way you won't miss my messages :)" "laoban you really didn't have to!")

when xia fei comes back to yingdu after a trip home, vein surprises him by meeting him at the airport (xia fei doesn't even remember if he told vein when he'd be landing). he insists on carrying feifei's bags, because it's no problem for him, but does question why it seems like he's brought back more stuff. "well i did some shopping, laoban— remember i sent you some photos—" "yes, of that chinese streetwear brand that really suits you—" "yes, so I bought the ones you complimented" (the text message in question reads: felix looks good in all of them) (he only spent that much because he got a bonus, which he was overjoyed about)

for valentine's day, vein casually asks xia fei to have dinner with him after work (which isn't the Most unusual thing) — xf is totally freaking out because it Is valentine's day, but says "I'm definitely free!!" he doesn't expect it'll be anything too crazy, but lo and behold vein takes him out to a fancy restaurant and even orders all his favourite desserts. after they leave, xia fei tells vein to wait there and runs to the nearest shop to find some flowers to give to vein as a thank you (and a struggle it is; most of the nearby shops have ran out). he he reappears twenty minutes later with a bouquet of an eclectic flowers, slightly sweaty from running away, and presents them to vein. amused, but also genuinely a little moved he's so fuckin down bad, vein presses a kiss to xia fei's cheek, completely flustering him (he's like "felix come a little closer," xf is ?? but does as told and stops computing once he feels veins lips brush his already reddened face)

[aszmxm]

Every time I start to believe I’ve moved on

The memories return to suffocate me again.

‏وفي كل مرة أظن أني تخطيت

‏تعود الذكريات ‏ ‏وتخنقني من جديد

~aszmxm

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap seven/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Bad Idea

summary: After a week of avoiding, you find Steve at your front steps.

wc: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. Steve and Reader have THE talk, we learn Steve & Emma’s story. There will be discussions of feelings about watching a loved one struggle with terminal illness and death in this chapter. There’s not a ton of details about her struggles but it is touched on. Angsty beginning and a very, very fluffy end 🧡

author’s note: it’s all up hill from here guys, just a little growing pains. i can’t believe there’s only three chapters left after this 🥺 thank you for reading and all of the sweet reblogs and messages through out this whole series. you have made this so special for me and it’s been such a comfort to write as I navigate my own life changes right now.

🌇 <- chapter six -> chapter eight

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

End of June -

It had been a week since Steve came back from his camping trip. A week of good morning texts left unanswered, of making sure not to look out your window when you knew he was home - even when you could hear him play with Bandit. He was doing that outside more than usual, a tactic to try and get you to come out and talk to him or hell, even just look at him. 

He doesn’t know that a few times it almost worked. 

Always & Forever

The words engraved into silver also stay carved deep and fresh in your mind, not letting you forget. You couldn’t, even if you tried. Especially not her beautiful eyes. Does she hate you? Part of you feels like you would hate you. The guilt threatens to punch the air out of your lungs.

The days go on like this with you doing everything in your power to avoid him while he did everything he could to run into you. The last ditch effort was after you caught him getting out of his car, your eyes meeting for a split second before you cut through the alley walking in through the back gate instead. Your resolve to stay away grows weaker when Steve’s good morning texts finally stop after that. 

So when Brad, the new server, gets the courage to ask you out, you say yes. It was a bad idea, anyone could’ve told you that, you didn’t really want him. He was just a distraction from facing the consequences of your own actions.  

He takes you to RPM Steakhouse in the heart of downtown and surprisingly he actually makes you laugh. He’s full of food industry horror stories he’s collected over the years. He’s not boring and he’s attentive when you talk, asking questions like he’s really interested. The butterflies that have built a home in your rib cage don’t flutter and fly for him though. The nerves that make your heart beat faster, the ones that feel like they vibrate from your fingertips, like your skin is on fire, are stagnant. 

He’s not Steve. 

You skip out on dessert when it’s offered to you, but you let him hug you before you get in your separate Uber’s home. It worked for a few hours at least. Looking out the window when your car hits the expressway, the skyline shines gleaming like the stars in the clear night sky.

It’s not very long until your phone fights for your attention, the screen illuminating the backseat. It pulls you back to reality, your breath catching when it’s not Brad’s name that flashes across your screen.

Steve

Can we please just talk? 

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when the Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that, all week and it makes more guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has, but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it without even knowing it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your black cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist, before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

The smile that tugs at Steve’s lips warms your face like the summer sun, his hand reaching out for you before pulling back and finding a new home deep in his pocket instead. Baby steps. Your arm brushes against his when you walk past him, the smallest touch lighting the match.

“I just need to get out of this dress.” You can’t look at him when you pull at the fabric as if to show him how uncomfortable it is.

“Should I wait down here?” He clears his throat a little unsure of himself as he watches you dig through your purse. He didn’t think he’d get this far.

Cicadas buzz loud against the jingle of your keys in the beat of silence it takes you to unlock the front door. The stale air of the walkway hits you like an oven when you push it open, the heat making your skin stick more than it did outside.

“You can come up. I promise my dishes are done this time.” You flash him a smirk from over your shoulder watching the way your gesture makes him relax like you’d intended, secretly enjoying the blush you still can get to flush his cheeks so easily. 

Steve hadn’t been inside your apartment since the day he fixed your sink, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him here. He’s handsome in a timeless way, still somehow put together even in his disheveled state. You watch the way he takes in his surroundings like he wants to commit it all to memory not knowing that he actually is, just in case this all blows up in his face and you never let him come back here again. 

The only noise that fills the room is the loud whirr of your A/C and it’s your turn to clear your throat.

“Umm, feel free to take a seat. I’ll be really quick.” You awkwardly gesture towards your green couch, grimacing when your mind goes back to the beautiful leather one at his place. 

He just nods, rubbing his palms against his thighs while taking one last look around before sitting. Your nose scrunches when you see how deep he sinks down, maybe a used couch wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You wait till your door is shut to let out the long breath you feel like you’ve been holding this whole time. The familiar thumping in your chest returns ten fold. He’s in your living room.  

You try not to think too much about the yoga shorts and oversized shirt you change into, especially when your muscles relax, no longer strained by the tight nylon material dress. Allowing a single once over in your long mirror, you force yourself back out, the creak of your door alerting him of your return. His stare makes goosebumps dance across sticky skin in a battle with the air conditioning.

“Do you want some water?” You try to sound casual when you ask, keeping your back to him so he can’t see the way you’re still buying time.

“S- sure,” he stutters out, a cough following and you hear the way the cushions respond to his weight as he tries leaning forward. 

Now it's the whirr of your a/c and the grumbling of the ice machine that silences the unspoken feelings that are begging to come out. Scratching and clawing their way to the surface, the cracks in your facade start getting deeper the longer you stay quiet.

Steve breaks first.

“I think there’s a conversation we should have.” He pauses before starting over, “There’s a conversation I want to have.”

You freeze when the realization of where you left the watering can smacks you right in the face.

“Steve-“ you start, unable to meet his eyes and he’s quick to cut you off.

“Listen, I have some things I need to say and you should at least let me get it off my chest if you’re just going to pretend I don’t exist now.” His words make you realize the selfishness that hides under your insecurities of not being good enough for someone like him. 

He stands up when you turn around, both of you staying on opposite sides of the room. He takes a shaky breath before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel these things again with anyone else, I was sure of it actually and then you showed up in your horribly packed moving truck.” He laughs a little like he’s still wrapping his head around all of it, and he knows if the situation was any different you’d roll your eyes at him for the teasing jab.

“You brought all of these things out of me that I thought I’d lost for good. Like, I can’t remember the last time I cared about what I was wearing when I left the house, but the past month I’ve been obsessed about it. Like what if she’s outside? What if she’s looking out her window? What if she wants to talk to me?” The veins in his neck show themselves as he gets more worked up but he’s not done yet.

“Then last week when you showed up at my front gate, looking even prettier than the last time I saw you, because you do that somehow, I couldn’t help myself around you anymore. The fact that you were actually going to kiss me back after I put the worst moves on you made me feel like I won the lottery or something.” His gaze meets yours to make sure he isn’t scaring you off before taking a deep breath.

“And then, and then you just - you just left without so much as a reason why. It was pretty clear though when I got home, and maybe that’s my fault because I feel like I’m doing this all backwards but you didn’t give us a chance to even talk about it.”

Steve looks like his world is falling apart, and the things he’s saying make you feel like anything but a second choice. You wish you could go back to that rainy day at his house and do things over again.

“I wasn’t given the shot at a fair fight the first time something special was taken from me, but I have one now and I’m not walking away unless you kick me out.” He straightens his shoulders a little before another anxious hand runs through his wild hair. His chest heaves as he finally gets out what’s been sitting just below the surface the whole time, his fears revealing themselves behind flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. 

The feeling like you’re slighting another woman who isn’t here is hard to navigate. It makes your own eyes sting but you don’t let the tears fall. Not when he’s handing his heart to you like he means it.

“I’d never kick you out,” your words come out quiet - soft, a stark contrast to the way his boomed loud with conviction, but he doesn’t miss them.

Hope starts to sprout deep in his chest for the first time in years.

“Never?” He breathes, relief relaxing the hard lines on his face while he looks at you from under his lashes.

His feet take him those few steps closer and when you make no moves to tell him to stop he keeps going. The sadness that plagues his handsome features slowly starts to fade and the bags under his eyes become more obvious. You want to kiss them.

Your hand extends, fingers reaching out for his. His eyes follow your movements, taking in what you’re offering and he doesn’t hesitate anymore, interlocking them like when he walked you to your front door. You watch the way his shoulders give the moment they touch and his eyes close as he relishes in the feel of it. Of you. 

Your back hits the edge of your kitchen sink when he crowds your space a little more, your fingers playing songs on imaginary strings together. Memorizing he dips between each one. His nose skims across your forehead making your own eyes close. How could you ever stay away from him?

“Never.” 

He hums at your confession, squeezing your hand gently before pulling back. He takes his time admiring your face from this close. He missed you so much, he actually thinks it’s kind of crazy. His other hand reaches up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. He loves the way you lean into it. You missed him too.

“Can we have that conversation now?” 

All you can do is nod, tears still threatening to spill out but now a different kind.

The two of you sit on your couch for hours, worn in cushions pushing you close together. Your head rests on his arm that’s draped along the back of it, your socked feet in his lap. He tells you how he met Emma through his high school sweetheart Nancy. The ex that turned him into a man as he put it, the one that made him really think about the kind of person he wanted to be. Even going as far to say Emma would have never given him the time of day if it wasn’t for her. Nancy was the Managing Editor of The Chicago Tribune and Emma was her Editor in Chief.

After being introduced by Nancy at a sports gala, Steve pursued her hard, especially because she said no the first three times he asked her out. It makes you giggle when he laughs about it. He said he knew he wanted to marry her after the first date and a year later he proposed to her on a group vacation with Eddie, Robin, Nancy and a few other friends in Mexico. The picture you saw was taken right after she said yes.

The wedding was small, just a few of their closest friends at The Chicago Botanical Gardens, and a dinner at Smith & Wollensky next to the river after. He told you how Eddie pretended to be mad the whole night becauseSteve made Robin his best man instead. They both moved into Steve’s apartment near Wrigley Field after a honeymoon in Italy. He said it was some of the best years of his life with her there, young and in love in one of the liveliest neighborhoods in the city. Then a few years passed and both their careers started taking off and they started wanting more as they got older. A family.

That’s when they started to invest in renovating this fixer upper of a house in a less nightlife oriented neighborhood. The house you live next door to. Between busy work schedules and dealing with contractors when the symptoms first started, they didn’t think anything of it. They chalked it up to exhaustion until she fainted in her office a few months later, then they finally saw a doctor. Another month later after multiple tests and hospital visits Emma was diagnosed with ALS.

“I’ve never seen something debilitate someone so fast, and Emma, god Emma was so strong. Seeing her like that at the end, it fucking broke me.” Steve’s voice cracks, a silent stream of tears falling down his cheeks now.

Your heart breaks for them, the tragedy of watching the person you love fall apart with nothing to do to stop it. An entire life you had planned ripped out from under you with zero warning or mercy. A cruel joke.

You reach up, using the back of your knuckles to wipe away his tears.  He leans in your touch, his gaze meeting yours with so many emotions inside of them, you think you might drown.

“We decided to stay in our apartment when she couldn’t walk anymore, with the rate it was moving she didn’t want me to live in this big new house meant for our new beginning and have her…have her die in it,” the last part comes out in just above a whisper, stopping to collect his thoughts. His brows furrow together and his fingers search for yours again. You give them to him without question. 

“We checked her into hospice a month after that, Eddie flew in the day she chose to get off assistance. She was surrounded by the people she loved the most those last days.” He takes another deep breath before he continues, it shakes just like his hands.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I don’t know how someone is supposed to go through that kind of pain and move on from it. Be a person again after it.” He takes another pause and he pulls you closer. His anchor.

“I don’t know if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for Eddie moving into the house with me those first three months, if I’m being totally honest with you.” He sniffs, his gaze falls to his lap to try and hide the shame at the thought, and you squeeze his hand a little bit harder.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” Your voice cracks at the weight of everything he’s been carrying around. The gravity of the way you left him tightens in your throat.

The tears you’d been holding back break free, making his eyes snap to yours. He lets your hand go to wipe your cheeks with gentle fingers like you did to his just moments before. He knows you're apologizing for more than just his bad luck.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. The tips of your noses touch, tears mixing and dripping down the ends of them. You keep your eyes closed in hopes that if you focus hard enough, maybe you could take away some of his pain. Even if it’s just a little bit. “We’re okay now.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit like this together, not speaking, letting wandering hands memorize faces and fingertips. Your breathing falls in time while your cheeks start to dry. Puffy red eyes stay closed while your muscles finally relax. His nose rubs small circles against yours that make smiles neither of you can see stretch across tear streaked faces.

When you finally open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, something brighter inside of his now like he just let go of a big secret. He doesn’t have to hide anymore.

It’s you that finally works up the strength to pull away enough to really see his whole face after depriving yourself of it for so long.

“I actually kinda feel like she sent you here, despite me,” he admits, laughing nervously, breaking the silence, “She made me promise her that I’d try and find love again when the time was right, I eventually said yes after she asked me at least a dozen times, but I never actually intended on it.” 

Steve stops for a second to brush some of your mascara that smudged, holding your eyes in the forest of his.

“Then five years later, this tough girl tries moving an entire apartment’s worth of stuff by herself next door. I mean, you practically did.” He smiles at how proud you look of yourself, “I knew I was screwed when Bandit sniffed you out.”

You giggle like you're just as love sick as him and he wishes he could play it on a loop whenever he’s sad. 

“She was probably laughing at how bad I was at trying to flirt with you.” His ears turn cherry red while he tries to hide his very real embarrassment.

“You did run away from me for like a solid week after we met the first time if you remember,” you tease, making his eyebrows raise in challenge. You weren’t supposed to roast him too.

“I guess we’re even then aren’t we?” He counters, smirking when you scoff, wrapping his arm around you so you can’t move away like you try to in fake protest.

Your legs end up draped over the tops of his thighs, fitting snug into his side. The warmth of his body makes your eyelids droopy. The cedar undertones he always carries calms all of your nerves.

“She was beautiful Steve,” you whisper, playing with the chain that dangles off his neck before looking up at him with a smile, “And maybe even a little too cool for you if I dare say.” It’s genuine when it comes out of your mouth, no hidden insecurities, an understanding that he wasn’t settling for you and it makes Steve want to kiss you even more. 

“She would have thought you were way too cool for me too.” He laughs, tracing the side of your face with his fingertips. You want to look away from the intensity of it all but you force yourself to hold his stare, keeping yourself open for him. It’s quiet for a few minutes, letting everything that was shared tonight really sink in. That stray you missed so much makes an appearance and you finally get to be the one that pushes it back, and his hair is just as soft as you imagined.

“What are you doing on the fourth, pretty girl?” The new nickname makes you shift in your seat, the hint of a smug smirk begs to break across his face when he catches it. Maybe he’s still got it.

“Nothing, I got the day off.” You hate that his question is enough to make you shy.

It’s too hard to hold his gaze this time, but he doesn’t let that slide. His fingers hook under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. Noses brushing, your lips just inches apart like this.

“Be my date to the block party?” He whispers, whiskey and tobacco still lingering on his breath. 

You smile, nudging your nose against his in a dare.

“I’d love to Steve.” His name comes out around strawberry chapstick lips, they brush with his feeling like velvet and it makes his nostrils flare.

He dips his head with a groan kissing the corner of mouth instead, before placing one on both your cheeks and another, a lingering one, against your forehead. 

“In honor of not doing things backwards, I’m going to wait until I’ve taken you out. The way it should happen. The way someone like you deserves.”

Steve wants to make you feel special too.

It's hard for you to feel rejected with his reasoning and seeing the clock on your stove read in bright red numbers - 2:46am. The fourth was only three days away now.

You play it off with a roll of your eyes and a dramatic “fine” that makes him really laugh for the first time all night, giving you another kiss on the cheek. This one a little wet. He can’t get enough of the way you can’t look at him after.

It’s another thirty minutes before he decides it’s time to go home when your yawn is too loud to hide and your head presses harder into his chest. He wishes he could stay, and one night he knows he will.

You both linger in the doorway with fingers wrapped up tight, neither one of you ready to let go. He just wants to stare at you, but he knows the alarm stuffed in his pocket is going to make his life miserable in three hours.

Instead, he gives you another kiss on the forehead telling you he’ll text in the morning, and he wishes he could have a picture of the smile you give him when you promise to text back.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

🌇 -> chapter eight

[hannibalsbaby]

Labor.

Pairing: Otto Hightower x OC!Daella Targaryen (younger sister to Rhaenyra Targaryen).

Warnings: Child marriage, violence, war, incest, murder, child death, torture, language, etc.

This is a snippet from a story I have on Wattpad, but haven't finished. This part isn't even in it, I just wanted to write something here. DO NOT repost to other sites without my permission. Please DO NOT read if you are uncomfortable with the topics above.

King's Landing was a prison – a prison that held Daella within, the only reason she didn't escape to her sister's side was her children. Aenys, Uthor, and Maelys – her sons, the youngest only three name-days old. Her paranoia was on high-alert after hearing Helaena constantly spill out prophetic words that always came true. Helaena's most recent was about rats – the look in her younger sisters eyes was something Daella would never forget. Daella Targaryen – daughter of King Viserys Targaryen, sister of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen was no green dragon, she had to pretend to protect her sons from her deranged brothers. She knew that once her uncle and sister took King's Landing – her and her children would be safe, so she stayed within the vipers den.

Little Maelys Hightower, Daella Targaryen's youngest son, took his father's coloring as did Aenys and Uthor. Though, the young boy was a dragon through and through. The little boy stuck to his mother's dress nearly everyday, his eyes had the same spark in them as she did as a young girl. Daella would never admit, but he was her favorite, he was solely for her – his birth brought her out of a deep depression. He saved her, it was that simple. Daella was tucking in Maelys for the night like she had her other two boys, it was a normal routine until the feeling of cold metal met her throat.

"A son for a son."

The voice was inside of her ear, she could feel the stranger's breath on her face. The man was lowborn, she could tell from his smell. Another man joined them, she could tell by the heavy, careless footsteps. "Please," Daella whispered, her voice breaking – she knew who the culprit behind all of this was. Her uncle Prince Daemon Targaryen, she knew he wouldn't target her specifically – she also knew that you couldn't control mercenaries once they were out of grasp.

"A son for a son." The larger one added onto what the other had said. Blood was dripping from her neck, she could feel it as she was turned to face the larger man. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering at the burlap sack in his hand. At that moment she knew what was going to happen, her sister was right once again. The rats were the real danger within the castle.

A tear slipped down Daella's porcelain cheek, "My son, my son is not who you are looking for. I will show you to who you are looking for, just please – please don't hurt him," her voice was surprisingly strong as her mind was whirling. She felt sick to her stomach as she anticipated the response from one of the two men. As she waited, the larger one yanked her necklace off – pocketing it for himself.

"A son for a son, that's what he said. I'm sure this boy will do just fine," said the man whose dagger was digging into her neck by the second. A whimper left Daella's mouth as she squeezed her eyes closed, this was just a nightmare, she would wake up from it. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine, it had to be. Not another word was spoken between the pair, the larger one just moved towards Maelys bed. The sharp edge pressed against her throat made her open her eyes, as she did a soundless scream would leave her mouth. The larger man had his hands within the small bed Daella's son slept in – a gurgling, crunching, and squelching noise was the only thing Daella could hear. Her eyes were focused as the man worked, chopping the head of her son off. Her legs finally gave out from under her, the smaller man let her go. The cold floor of the castle was a stark comparison to the fire that was within her body.

A scream finally left Daella's lips, it was blood curdling with an anguish only a mother could know. As she screamed her lungs out, the two men scrambled out of the nursery with a blood soaked sack in tow. Just as quickly as the men left, guards appeared with her husband, Alicent, Helaena, and unfortunately Aemond. Daella sat up on her knees, her face was wet with tears as well as spittle from her deranged screams. Her violet eyes finally met the others within the room.

"You. It was supposed to have been you." Daella's words were coarse, full of loathing as her bloodshot eyes locked onto the one-eyed prince. She would have her revenge on the kinslayer and she would have her revenge on the two men who killed her son. "My son is dead because of you, my sister's son is dead because of you – yet you go unpunished," she spat out at Aemond, her words full of venom yet her eyes held nothing but anguish. She was holding on by a thread, that much was obvious.

[spxdxrpxnk]

thinking abt how PROWLER MILES and SPIDERMILES sleep... 💤💤💤

( notes: this is written by a minor about underage characters, so nsfw/18+ only/'minors dni' blogs please do not interact with this post! thank you <3

i call them prowler miles and spidermiles instead of earth-XXX miles because it's cuter to me :) )

MILES is a very light sleeper.

a lot of people don't really expect that because he always looks like he's having the best, most deepest sleep of his life, all curled up in a tight ball, blankets burrito'd around him

bro is the literal definition of snug as a bug in a rug

he even snores just a little! when you first hear it you think he's like, growling in his sleep??? because of how low it is, nah, he's snorin.

there's literally never any sneaking up on him while asleep- MILES literally woke up because RIO walked past his bedroom door once. she didn't go in, didn't even touch the door; she just tip-toed in her work sneakers instead of socks or slippers.

and that woke him up, made him all grumpy because that was really early in the morning and now he can't go back to sleep

once he's up, he's up. and it takes an hour or so to get back to sleep, so he just deals with it

he sits up, but just stays sitting in bed slouched over like a zombie for a good few minutes.

he just needs a sec to boot up, give him a lil bit and then he's up and at em like he was never asleep in the first place??

weirdo.

one time, UNCLE AARON scared him awake from a nap because they had stuff to do, and he was literally so mad about it. he knew it was a dumb thing to be mad about, but MILES couldn't keep an angry pout off his face and AARON was just snickering at it the entire time

when sleeping, MILES doesn't dream. like, at all.

people around him will be talking about crazy dreams and nightmares they've had where their teeth fell out or they got turned into a horse or got chased by a giant lego man, and he's just like. tf???

he's very clingy in his sleep and when he's tired, even when he tries his best not to be, so if you choose to sleep with him then you just kinda have to accept your fate

thankfully he doesn't move around that much besides the occasional adjustment, he doesn't thrash around or anything crazy

the most annoying thing would probably be him snoring? it's not loud, barely audible if you're not right next to him, but if you do sleep near him then you'll hear it

it kinda just happens no matter how he sleeps, so if you can handle a little. um. natural white noise!

MILES is the best cuddle buddy you'll ever have.

he's very considerate tbh, he'll let you lay on him any way you want as long as it's not that uncomfortable for him

be warned though: he's an early riser.

will wake up first and do dumb shit to wake you if you're not up by time he's done eating breakfast.

he'll start lifting your eyelids, poking you, tickling your hands ( he don't do feet. ) and shit like a little damn kid

and he won't stop until you wake up, so gl w that

MILES, however..

well, he's also a light sleeper. more on the average side

but he doesn't wake up at every little thing. only if someone opens his door or talks too loud

some things wake him up, some don't

sirens and explosions outside of his window only start to wake him up after he becomes spiderman, he could sleep like a baby through it before

he usually falls asleep in a very fixed position, like curled up on his side or laying on his back with his legs crossed

but he'll always wake up halfway off his bed, limbs thrown out like he's a ragdoll, mouth wide open and dry, covers either tangled around his body or just on the floor

so.

yeah, MILES moves in his sleep!

he'll go from laying on his back to on his stomach, from his stomach to his side, from his side to somehow slumped against the wall by his bed???

because of that, he'll wake up very disoriented. he needs more than a second to boot up, his feet just kinda carry him to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and stuff-

MILES isn't up-up until he blindly puts his hands under the ice cold water to wet his toothbrush and that shocks him awake, only to realize he completely missed his toothbrush and squeezed the dollop of toothpaste directly into the sink

he kinda just stares at it for a few minutes, pretty embarrassed, before scooping it off the porcelain ( or whatever sinks are made of ) and using it to brush his teeth

somehow, JEFF always knows when MILES just let the wasted toothpaste dissolve into the running water and squeezed more.

it's like his own spidey-sense.. just for something as stupid as toothpaste.

MILES does dream almost every time he's asleep, even when just napping, but he often doesn't remember them unless they were super duper crazy

he remembers the nightmare where he shot webs out his butt like a real spider, and that really scary one that he doesn't like to recall but has to do with the prowler

but he can never recall the only one that actually made him wake up in a cold sweat, panting as if he just ran a marathon.

"what was it?", you may ask?

well, MILES was president of some place.

he didn't find out where until DREAM PRESIDENT MORALES set a lot of very prejudiced laws against lego people, and it turns out he was president of lego city

( one of the laws was that, if anyone falls into the river, they're not allowed to be saved )

he got overthrown during a revolution that was led by a very violent lego spiderman who only spoke in what his brain's version of spanish was, so he could barely understand anything

and the part that made him wake up was when they tied him down and were threatening to go through his sketchbook and, upon opening it to the first page, something jumped out at him and startled him awake

you know those jumpscare videos where a spider jumps out during a seemingly calm scenario?

yeah, MILES gets weird deja vu when he sees those, but doesn't know it's because of that dream.

anyways- MILES does try his best to cuddle when sleeping, he really does!

he'll spoon ( big or little, he don't mind ), lay on you, let you lay on him

even just holding hands, or sleeping back to back

anything really, long as he goes to sleep touching you

but if it's one of his more active nights where he makes his big moves, you probably won't survive unless you're a deep sleeper.

he'll probably push or kick you, and not be sorry about it.

and he'll wake up totally out of it, wondering why the hell he's so uncomfortable

and sees he's sprawled on top of you like a terrible blanket instead of the very cute, cliche way he imagined waking up with you

something like this will happen every time, so. just throw him a pillow and a sheet and tell him to sleep on the floor.

or you take the floor, either works for him-

MILES really isn't the perfect gentleman. unless you or his parents tell him to give you the bed, he will happily let you sleep on the floor

never wakes up before you unless he had a really bad nightmare like PRESIDENT MORALES, and if you wake him up he'll be so petty and passive aggressive while he's still half asleep

so just. slap him awake if you need him that bad, shake him violently and yell frantically that they hit the pentagon

just wake him right up, so that he can't just glare at you with an adorable sleepy pout on his face, eyeing you angrily, even as he trudges to the bathroom...

... not looking where he was going, and walking right into the doorframe.

[whereserpentswalk]

Don't fall in love with angels. They're allowed to love you and will do nice things for you. But they still serve heaven and its rules before they serve any being in the universe. The nicest, kindest, angel that you could ever meet, will still watch as thousands die because it's the will of fate, would still smite the undead just for being what they are. If they believe you're someone wrong or evil, even if you're just 'born wrong' they will destroy you. Their fire may warm you, but it's still there to burn heretics.

Fall in love with demons, those angels that have left heaven's will. They may be cruel at times, they all fell for different reasons, and many of them don't take well to being asked to say why. But they have their own will, and if you convince them to do good, they will do good. Even the darkest of demons can be reasoned with, because they already had enough reason to abandon the sky. Their fire may burn you, but it is the torch of liberty.

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Unawakened Dream really awoke the plot bunnies! Enjoy!

-

The very fabric of Teyvat is unraveling — shattering into unseemly pieces; leaving gaping holes for the Primordial Sea to flood in. Mondstadt has long fallen — Dvalin and Andrius with it — and Venti thought he had no more tears to cry.

And yet…

“Zhong– Zhongli please! You can't leave me too!”

The geo archon lays at his feet, slowly crumbling to dust as erosion dared to claim him in the worst possible moment. The leaking of the geo archon's power destabilizes Teyvat even further. It brings Venti to his knees — threatens to turn him to stone alongside his last and oldest friend…

But Venti can't bring himself to care, as he grips onto Zhongli's crumbling hand and cries into his chest.

Zhongli does not remember Venti's face. He does not remember their shared battles, nor their hopeful songs or idle conversations. Venti is a stranger. And despite that, he gazes upon the image of their melting, shattering, dying reality, and dismisses it: deeming the sobbing archon above him more important.

Despite everything, Zhongli offers a calming smile, laying a half decayed hand upon Venti's unstained white feathers — a speck of soft and clean perfection in a disastrous painting. His voice is quiet and weak, missing his authority and wisdom, but it is still Zhongli.

“You… are important to me. Do not cry; one needn't waste tears over the inevitable and irreversible.”

‘Inevitable and irreversible.’ The thought stills him.

Because nothing is irreversible. Not to that spark split in three. Not to the power long abandoned. Not to the Shade of Time.

It has been millenia since the use of such power. Centuries since he'd thought of it…

Mondstadt would live.

Zhongli would live.

The tears don't stop at this realization, but Venti's grin isn't dampened as he looks into the clouded eyes of the only one left, “Nothing's irreversible Zhongli — not to me! I can fix this! I will fix this! I'll fix Teyvat– I'll save you!”

His words seem to send Zhongli into deep thought, but he speaks before Venti can even begin to draw upon those dimmed sparks, “Is that a promise?”

‘A contract?’ And Venti pauses. Because Zhongli does not know what power those words hold. Does not know that he is the God of Contracts, does not know that a promise bound by him is one impossible to break without severe consequence.

Venti has never entered a proper contract. Though he has always protected Mondstadt (he failed them), if he really felt like it, he could walk away without consequence. He has always retained the freedom of choice, even if the choices are mere illusions.

But what freedom is there if everyone is dead?

So Venti smiles — face marred only by tears, he is a picture of clean perfection amongst muddled destruction, untouched even in the final hour of Teyvat's demise. Untouchable, for even Teyvat's destruction is no guarantee of his own. He draws upon those faded remnants of Istaroth's power — of the power of the First Descender — and his voice is clear, echoing through the remnants of Teyvat and through the Primordial Sea, touching even the realities beyond their dream,

“I'll fix Teyvat, or die trying. May this contract be bound in stone.”

-

So yeah, may or may not make an actual fic, and did NOT intend this to be as ZhongVen as it was, but that image of Venti using Istaroth's power (of BEING Istaroth) really refused to leave me alone lol. I think it's mostly because I ADORE writing time loops, so even if I do already headcanon Venti as a time manipulator, seeing it in animated form... the temptation was too strong lol