#not make up rumors when you people lost the etiquette

[ricky-olson]

im gonna say it. tiktok metal fans has thrown away the etiquette of going to shows.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [18] - Daisies

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Friends can have fun anywhere and anytime.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of explicit scenes, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 5300

Series Masterlist

Well, you had to admit.

You had no idea what the following night would bring when you woke up in the morning, but it was not this.

The dawn was breaking when you got back home from the party and though you hadn’t drunk that much, you felt nearly intoxicated with the sense of this freedom which was incredibly new for you. For once you didn’t have to follow any rules or worry about the etiquette the ton kept pressuring you with, and it felt absolutely wonderful.

Benedict had suggested you could sleep in his bed and you were still too taken by the excitement to come up with an excuse or pretend you didn’t like the idea. You convinced yourself that it would be just for tonight -or this morning for that matter- and when you woke up, warmth that was surrounding you was so comfortable that it made you heave a sigh, a small smile curling your lips. Benedict had his arm thrown over you, his other arm curled under his pillow while he laid on his stomach, still deep asleep. You carefully sat up in bed so as not to wake him up, running your eyes over his back, his muscles rippling as he murmured something and hugged the pillow. A spark of desire shot through you and you bit down on your lip, an exhale leaving your lips. You held out your hand to hold your fingertips over his back but before you could even run your fingertips over his smooth skin, you retrieved your hand and stole a look at the clock on the wall.

Oh.

Both of you had slept until the afternoon. Again.

Benedict had barely drunk two glasses throughout the night to make sure to keep an eye on you and you were very careful with not drinking too much in order to lose any control so this wasn’t even about the drinks, it was because of the fact that last night had been the most entertaining night of your life.

Most entertaining and shocking.

The picture of what you had seen in that room while you were exploring the rest of the party flashed before your eyes, making your heartbeat faster. You were still quite certain you were missing something because that was simply not…possible with what you were told about nightly activities.

Was one of them just there to simply observe?

Even the thought was enough to make your face burn and you scrunched up your nose, closing your eyes for a second but you opened them again when the thought hit you, a frown pulling your brows together.

Benedict had told you himself that he tended to attend these parties, and Lady Whistledown wrote over and over again how he would come home early in the morning, all disheveled. Not only that, now that you were rethinking about the conversation that took place between Sir Granville and Benedict and how he was so quick to dismiss even the suggestion of it—

You knew he was very experienced when it came to such acts, he had told you he hadn’t been celibate and the rumors about him -though they lacked details- only convinced you further that he knew much more than you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed him rising from his deep slumber until he moved a little in bed, then held his breath, freezing in his spot. He pulled the heavy covers to himself just a little, bunching them around his waist before propping his head up on his fist.

“Good morning.”

“How does one lie with two people at the same time?”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Did I—did I not wake up?”

“No you’re awake,” you said and turned your head to look at him better. “That’s not supposed to be possible, is it? I mean, physically speaking?”

He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes. “What brought this on?”

“I wanted to explore the rest of the party last night after you left with Sir Granville.”

“Uh oh.”

“And I saw something.”

“Of course you did.”

“Is that a thing that people like?” you asked and he shook his head slightly, sitting up in bed.

“Y/N.”

“It makes no sense though,” you mused. “Three people? That’s surely impossible, does one simply wait their turn?”

He looked nearly tormented by your questions. “I’m not having that conversation with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

“But that was what Sir Granville meant, was it not?”

“It wasn’t,” he said quickly. “He meant more in the lines of—well, his wife—it doesn’t matter. That’s not going to happen.”

You thought for a moment.

“Have you ever done that?”

He heaved a sigh and brushed a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “Can we please have this conversation some other time? Because this is absolutely not helping the situation.”

You tilted your head. “What situation?”

He paused and looked down at the covers bunched around his waist, then turned his gaze to you. “Nothing.”

“But have you ever done that?” you insisted, making him furrow his brows as if he was trying to focus.

“I don’t—I—” he stammered. “Please don’t ask me that.”

Your jaw dropped. “You have?”

Benedict ran a hand over his face as if he was torn between lying to you or not and you sat up straighter, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. Perhaps you had been correct in thinking he was going off to those parties or keeping mistresses after your wedding. After all, you had told him he could, and it wasn’t as if this was a real marriage anyway.

He had married you because you had been caught together, no other reason.

That bitterness spread through your throat and burned it but you were sure that you managed to keep your expression completely calm.

“I mean obviously it was…” he motioned between you two. “It was before we married.”

“Sure!” your voice came out a little higher than you intended. “Obviously and—and it’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. I mean it would be fine either way. Obviously.”

His eyes flitted over your face and he took a deep breath but before he could say anything, someone knocked on the door.

“Mr. Bridgerton? Your brothers sent word with a footman.”

You took it as your cue to get up from the bed and cleared your throat.

“I should…” you motioned at your room. “Because um—Teddy is coming to visit today, so I should get ready.”

“Y/N—”

“Just don’t forget we’re having dinner with your family tonight,” you said hastily before you walked to your room and closed the door behind you, leaning back to it as soon as you did. You pressed your hands on your eyes, then shook your head and walked to your bed to ring the bell.

                                                   *

It made absolutely no sense that you still felt bitter over Benedict’s escapades. You and everyone in the ton knew he was quite adventurous and while you hadn’t known the details or apparently the amount of people his adventures included, you weren’t going to be in a sour mood all day because of it.

Especially now that Teddy and your aunt were visiting.

Teddy was a tiny hurricane as usual and after watching him run around for about an hour, you and your aunt had decided to go outside to sit in the gazebo. Teddy was having fun exploring the garden and it was such a lovely day that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to stay inside.

“You will get the hang of it,” your aunt assured you. “I had some difficulty with learning how things worked when I first married your uncle.”

“Yes but you at least had an idea.”

“So do you.”

“Barely,” you said and she tilted her head.

“I’ll help you,” she said. “Not to worry. Running a house is not that difficult once you understand the basics.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said with a sigh and she smiled at you.

“So now, are you going to show me the greenhouse?”

You looked over your shoulder to the huge greenhouse, the sunlight reflecting on the glass walls and your stomach did a flip.

“Oh I haven’t…” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “I haven’t had the chance to work on it I’m afraid.”

She raised her brows.

“You?” she said. “There’s a greenhouse here and you haven’t started working on it yet?”

Well no.

You hadn’t even stepped a foot there because you knew if you did, you would fall apart. All your life you had wanted a beautiful garden and a big greenhouse but now that you had it—

You knew you were going to want to spend your whole time there, and put so much effort and time into the plants but Benedict could take that away from you anytime he wanted so you refused to put yourself through that heartbreak.

So you were simply not even going to bother.

“I’ve been busy,” you ended up saying. “But um—I’m sure our gardener is doing a wonderful job there just like he is in the garden.”

“I must admit, I thought you’d have taken over the garden by now,” she admitted and let out a small chuckle. “But I suppose your days are busy just like your nights, hm?”

Oh great.

Always a lovely topic to lie about.

“Sort of,” you said and she shot you a look.

“There’s nothing wrong with having hobbies though,” she said. “Josie mentioned you fixed Bess’s roses?”

“I barely did anything,” you said. “Bess was watering those roses three times a day, can you believe that?”

She scoffed a laugh. “Oh wow.”

“And I told her—”

“Y/N!” Teddy’s cheerful voice rang through the garden and you looked around, then looked up at the window of Benedict’s studio where he was leaning out of. “Come here!”

“Teddy, don’t lean out the window like that!”

“Alright but come here!” he said, excitement laced in his tone and you got up from the bench.

“I’ll be right back,” you told your aunt and she waved a hand in the air.

“I’ll just ask your gardener to give me a tour of the greenhouse while you’re there,” she said and you nodded, then quickly made your way back into the house. You rushed up the stairs to the studio but as soon as you reached there, you froze by the door, staring inside.

Apparently, while you and your aunt were downstairs, Teddy had decided to try his hand in painting. The canvas Benedict had sketched on before he left was now full of colors because Teddy had decided to color inside the lines, and was now smiling at you proudly.

“Look, I made this!” Teddy said, pointing at the canvas. “Is it pretty? That’s a house, see?”

Oh God. Oh God.

The panic that crashed down on you was so sudden that it took your breath away, your heart leaping to your throat. Benedict was going to be absolutely furious when he saw this, and it was going to lead to an argument and that was going to lead to a—

Alright. You had to make sure that didn’t happen anywhere near Teddy and the only thing good about this mess was that Benedict wasn’t even at home right now.

You could take whatever he would unleash upon you.

You swallowed thickly and stepped closer to Teddy, then crouched down to get to his level, your skirts fanning around you.

“It is very beautiful Teddy, but…” you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your hand to get rid of the shaking, your wrist starting to hurt again. “Do you know whose room this is?”

He looked around and turned to you. “Benedict’s?”

“Yes,” you said. “Which means these all belong to him. And do you remember what we said about touching other people’s belongings?”

He nodded, his eyes still shiny with happiness. “Yes but I didn’t touch those,” he pointed at the painted canvases around the room. “Just this one, it didn’t have any paint on it.”

“Yes but it still—”

“Hello there,” Benedict’s voice cut through yours and you jumped on your feet, stepping in front of Teddy without even realizing it.

Oh damn it.

The fear roared through you, making your ears muffled and for a second you felt as if something was squeezing at your throat but you clenched your teeth. Benedict smiled at Teddy who leaned sideways to wave at him around your skirt.

“Hello Benedict!”

“It was an accident, it happens,” your voice came out as a demand and Benedict pulled his brows together.

“Hm?”

“Look!”

“Teddy…” you said through your teeth but he was completely oblivious to how tense you were, which you assumed was good, in a way.

Teddy, unlike you or Josie, had no idea what could happen when someone was angry, he just wasn’t raised like that.

“Benedict, I made this!” Teddy pointed at the canvas, making him turn his head to look at it. “Is it pretty? Can I be an artist too?”

You hadn’t even noticed yourself grabbing the palette knife on the tiny coffee table behind you as subtly as you could until you felt the cold handle of it. If anything happened, if Benedict so much as tried to shove him, you were going to—

“You painted it?” Benedict asked with a small smile and Teddy nodded fervently.

“Yes!”

“It was an accident,” you repeated, your eyes flitting to the door and Benedict let out a small chuckle.

“It looks very pretty,” he said as he stepped inside and Teddy rushed to the canvas, apparently very proud of himself.

“I made the door red, look!”

“Teddy,” you said. “Just go to the garden, alright?”

“Wait a moment,” Benedict told you and crouched down to look at Teddy. “You did it all by yourself?”

Teddy nodded and you gripped the handle of the palette knife tighter, but Benedict gave him a huge smile.

“I think you’re going to be a great artist.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” he said. “Absolutely, are you kidding? I couldn’t use the colors this well when I was your age.”

Teddy rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and turned to look up at you with a huge smile.

“Y/N, did you hear that?”

“In fact, I have an idea,” Benedict said. “How about the next time you’re here, you have your own canvas and you can paint whatever it is you want to paint, hm?”

Teddy gasped. “Really?!”

“Absolutely!”

Teddy giggled and nodded with a huge smile.

“I’ll tell auntie I’ll be an artist!” he said and rushed out of the room, making you let out a breath. Benedict straightened his back and smiled at you.

“You didn’t tell me he wanted to be an artist.”

“He um…he makes figures from mud,” you managed to rasp out and he raised his brows.

“We could get him some stuff to make sculptures as well,” he told you. “The next time he visits—”

“There’s no way you’re as calm as you look right now,” you cut him off, your heart beating in your ears but by some miracle, your voice didn’t waver. Benedict shot you a confused look, then scoffed.

“Oh you mean what he did with the canvas?” he asked. “He’s six, Y/N. That’s what kids do, they snoop around.”

You blinked a couple of times. “That was supposed to be your painting.”

“Do you think Greg never painted over something I was working on?” he asked with a small laugh. “He—two summers ago I had just finished a painting and apparently he decided to paint over it at night because he liked brighter colors and wanted to fix it for me.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I grew up with seven siblings,” he said. “Remind me to tell you what Colin once did to my drawings back at Eton.”

You slowly put the palette knife back on the coffee table behind you without him noticing and licked your lips.

“I didn’t know you’d be back soon.”

“I forgot my sketchbook,” he said. “I figured on tonight’s dinner I wouldn’t have the time to go over the illustrations with Charlie so I’ll just give her these today. Mother invited her and Simon so it’ll definitely be chaotic.”

“Simon?”

“Duke Hastings.”

“Oh,” you said. “Daphne’s suitor.”

“And Anthony’s friend,” Benedict said and grabbed his sketch book. “Where is your aunt by the way? I should greet her before I leave.”

“In the—in the garden,” you stammered, trying to pull your thoughts together through the confusion. “She’d love to see you, I’m sure. You go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Benedict looked like he wanted to say something, but then decided otherwise.

“Alright then,” he said and walked out of the room, leaving you there. You gawked at the spot he had just left and let out a breath, running a hand over your face.

“What on earth…” you murmured and pressed a hand over your chest, then threw your shoulders back and walked out of the room as well.

                                               *

Even though you were beginning to find it very easy if not relaxing to spend time with Benedict, this whole dinner was going to be quite chaotic, you were sure of it. Going there early to help with the preparations for the night had sounded like a good idea in your head but you had missed the part that Benedict and his brothers would be outside and there would be plenty of time for the women of the family to ask their many questions to you about how your marriage was going. Eloise particularly seemed to have many topics to cover and questions to ask, so after around an hour when Lady Bridgerton and Daphne got distracted with going over the last minute details of the dinner, leaving you alone with Eloise who was very interested in learning what exactly was taking place after one got married, but soon enough Lady Bridgerton sent her to change into her evening attire so you took it as your sign to leave the drawing room.

Dear God, you could still remember running into Benedict for the first time in this very hallway.

And what was it you had said?

“I doubt we will ever talk to each other again, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Fate just had a way of messing with you.

You slowly made your way through the hallway until you reached Benedict’s art room and looked around, then pushed at the door to open it. You peeked inside to see whether they had changed it after he moved out but it looked the same as you had last been there. You nibbled on your lip for a moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind you.

It was almost funny how Benedict’s presence -even if he wasn’t actually there in the room- was beginning to make you feel relaxed instantly. The traces of him were all over the room, from the messy table beside the canvas to the painting palette full of colors, and you felt a smile warm your lips before pulling a book out of the shelf and going straight to the sofa by the window.

By the time you heard the knock on the door you had been so focused on the life of Da Vinci that the sound took you by surprise. The door cracked open and Benedict peeked his head in, making your heart skip a beat.

“Hello,” he said. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“It’s your room.”

“Well you’re in it so it makes it yours.”

You bit down a smile and motioned at the room. “Be my guest.”

Benedict shot you that lopsided grin and entered the room, then closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Admiring art?”

He furrowed his brows. “I only have one canvas in here and only the background is finished.”

“I’m admiring the background,” you deadpanned and he tilted his head.

“Are you hiding?”

“Maybe,” you said. “Eloise has a lot of well-grounded questions about why your mother said no when she asked if she could stay over at our house.”

A soft look appeared in his gaze and he repressed a smile, then sat beside you and leaned back to the sofa.

“Really?”

“Mm hm. Dodging the question about what our honeymoon has got to do with it was especially difficult.”

“What did you tell her?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “That she could ask you, not me.”

He gawked at you. “You threw me into the fire?”

“Well I had to throw someone!” you defended yourself. “Besides, you’re an artist. Suffering will be good for you, everyone knows that.”

“Uh huh, thank you traitor.”

You tried to hold back your laughter, feigning shock. “I’m merely trying to help you improve as an artist. A very selfless behavior, one would say.”

“Much appreciated,” he said while you bit down on your lip to stop the smile and he put his feet up on the table, making himself comfortable.

“Are you hiding as well?” you asked and he nodded.

“Mother is snapping at all of us about anything you could think of, she’s very nervous about this dinner.”

“Well, Daphne’s suitor is coming,” you said. “It is expected.”

“She managed to turn the conversation from Colin’s jacket to the fact that he hasn’t got married yet, quite literally no one in that room is safe.”

“You are!” you snapped your fingers. “You’re married.”

He grinned at you. “I am.”

“To me,” you felt the need to say and his gaze turned soft again.

“Mm hm, to you.”  

You found yourself smiling back and took a deep breath, trying to distract yourself from that spark of excitement rushing through you.

“Does she want all of you to marry in the same season?” you asked. “I mean you were the first, I’m sure Daphne will marry within the season, and Colin?”

“Well, Anthony is never going to get married, he keeps saying that.”

You pursed your lips together and raised your brows.

“Does he now?”

“Yes,” he said. “He’s very sure of it.”

You nodded. “And what time is Lottie getting here?”

Benedict thought for a second and checked his pocket watch. “She was going to get ready when we separated so I’d say in half an hour. Before Simon gets here, probably.”

Dear God, as much as you disliked Anthony and he disliked you, you had to give it to him; he had to have been very convincing with his family if even Benedict couldn’t see how he was looking at Charlotte. It was quite surprising because to you, it was clear as day but apparently no one around you could see that.

And to make it even more interesting, it was obvious that Charlotte had no idea either. She had vehemently insisted Anthony was the kindest and nicest man on earth when you had told her you didn’t like him, and you had seen how they always made sure to talk to each other whenever they were near each other but she either managed to keep her feelings hidden from anyone’s gaze or she didn’t know about them.

You made a mental note to at least fish for some information the next time you would go to the park with Lottie, then got distracted when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Last night.”

You turned to him and tilted your head. “The party or what I saw?”

“Both,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and licked his lips. “Y/N, I uh… You know, this morning I couldn’t really explain but I don’t want you to misunderstand it. I haven’t—I mean I did join the parties and did things there but after we got engaged I never…”

Your heart started beating even faster and a fire swept over your face.

“Oh you don’t have to explain—”

“I want to explain,” he said. “Nothing happened ever since that night.”

Ever since you two had kissed.

“No matter what you saw last night at the party.”

You had no idea why this new knowledge filled you with happiness or why imagining Benedict with anyone else had made that bitter taste climb up your throat earlier today.

“I just went to drink and paint and spend time with my friends, nothing more.”

You nodded, dragging the tip of your tongue over your lip. When the memory flashed through your mind, you felt a fire burning your cheeks but forced yourself to turn your gaze from him, leaning your head to the back of the sofa and fixing your eyes on the ceiling. Benedict turned a little to look at you better, putting his arm over the back of the sofa, resting his head on his fist.

“Ask.”

“Hm?”

“You have a question in mind that bothers you.”

You stole a look at him. “How did you-?”

“You always furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought and want to ask something.”

You relaxed your brows immediately, making him chuckle. Biting inside your cheek, you took a deep breath and turned your gaze to him, sitting up straighter.

“…Clearly love is made up,” you started, making him raise his brows. “And of course I don’t believe in it, it’s for fools. And artists.”

“Strong introduction there.”

You shot him a glare and clicked your tongue.

“That being said,” you muttered, “When you were actively uh—participating in such things at the parties…”

“Yes?”

“Were you in love with two people at the same time?” you asked. “Or did it make you fall in love?”

He looked rather taken aback by your question and you had to admit, you shared the sentiment. You had no idea why the idea of him falling in love with someone made your stomach drop and squeezed at your heart but you managed to keep your expression still.

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” You tilted your head. “Ever?”

“That wasn’t about love,” he said, making a rush of relief spread through you for some reason. You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before asking the next question that was almost echoing in your mind.

“Does it make people fall in love though?” you asked. “Doing…that?”

He thought for a moment. “Sometimes.”

Oh.

Well, that was…

That was an interesting thought there, albeit risky.

“And what, it’s better when you’re in love?” you asked and immediately corrected yourself. “Hypothetically speaking, that is. If love existed, which it does not.”

“Well, all poets say it’s perfection with the person you love.”

You scoffed a laugh and scrunched up your nose, turning a little in your spot to face him. “And what do the artists say?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That it’s supposed to be divine.”

“Supposed to be?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

You pulled your brows into a frown again, trying to make sense of what he had just said before it dawned on you.

“What, then—” you stammered, turning to look at him better. “All this time, for you it was about lust? Nothing more?”

“It was about many things,” he admitted. “Lust, trying to find love, or simply just fun…”

Ah.

Well, you didn’t have the slightest clue as to why hearing that was making that bitter taste burn your throat.

“And then it was about forgetting.”

The sentence took you by surprise and you blinked a couple of times. “Forgetting?”

“Mm hm.”

You didn’t even need to ask what he had tried to forget. You knew that he was talking about after that night at the rooftop, that haunted, heartbroken look on his face when you had told him you would simply torment him or rip out his heart.

Remembering that moment right now felt like your own heart was being ripped out and you shifted your weight in your spot, digging your nails into your palms to focus.

“Did it work?”

A small smile graced his lips and that soft light started glimmering in his eyes again, his gaze locked in yours.

“Does it look like it worked?”

Your eyes shot up to his, your heartbeat getting faster so fast that it made your head spin and for a moment you both stayed like that in complete silence but before you could even say anything else, you were snapped out of your thoughts by the knock on the door.

“Ben?” Colin’s voice reached inside and you turned your head to look at the door. Benedict cleared his throat as if he was trying to pull himself together and you let out a breath, rolling your shoulders back.

“Is it alright if he…?” Benedict asked and you nodded fervently.

“Oh—yeah, absolutely.”

Benedict turned to look at the door. “Come in Colin!”

The door opened and Colin tilted his head when he saw you.

“Oh I didn’t know—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m aware you are newlyweds and everything but I refuse to be anywhere near mother’s sight until this dinner starts,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door, then made his way to the armchair to fling himself on it. “Dear God…”

“Yeah it’s not fun, is it?” you asked. “Now try to imagine the whole ton doing that to you and you’ll understand how life is for a debutante.”

Colin hummed, then grinned at you. “And what exactly were you two doing here, honeymoon couple?”

“Colin,” Benedict said, his tone almost a warning and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing you don’t wish you were doing with Miss Marina,” you said with a smirk as his eyes widened. “Simply talking, of course.”

Colin’s jaw dropped and he held up his hands while Benedict chuckled beside you.

“I will stop talking now,” Colin said and Benedict snapped his fingers.

“No no, I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said. “What is it with you and Miss Marina?”

Colin waved his hands in the air as he searched for words.

“She’s—we—she’s…pleasant company.”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to Benedict. “Oh, pleasant company.”

“Sure,” Benedict nodded solemnly, “Nothing more.”

“Certainly. Has nothing to do with the fact that she’s very pretty.”

“Or the fact that he bolted to talk to her the moment he saw her the other day,” Benedict played along. “They probably talk about philosophy.”

“Or art,” you pointed out. “Truly an intellectual companionship.”

“You two are terrible,” Colin pointed between you. “A terrible couple, that’s what you are.”

You let out a laugh and Benedict opened his mouth to retort but before he could say anything, someone knocked on the door.

“Sir?” a maid said. “Lady Bridgerton wants everyone in the drawing room.”

Colin heaved a sigh and shot you two a look, the sound of footsteps getting distant.

“What if we just stayed here and didn’t attend this dinner?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Colin, I’m absolutely fine with this dinner,” Benedict said with a grin. “I’m married after all.”

You nodded. “Yeah we will be very comfortable tonight.”

Benedict pointed at you with his thumb. “What my wife said.”

“Why thank you, husband,” you played along, making Benedict stifle a laugh as he looked at you. “Perhaps we should tell your mother how happy we are now that we’re married.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare.”

“That’s an amazing idea, we really should,” Benedict said, making Colin whine. “We should also tell her how happy Colin will be once he gets married.”

“I hate both of you.”

“We just want your happiness, brother.”

Colin groaned, rolling his eyes as he got on his feet.

“I liked it better when you were suffering with me,” he grumbled, pointing at Benedict before walking out of the room. You and Benedict grinned at each other, and he held out his arm.

“Shall we, dear wife?”

“Yes we shall,” you said with a giggle as you dropped an exaggerated curtsy, then you both left the room to make your way to the drawing room.

Chapter 19

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 14

Masterlist

Summary: After many political talks, Karen sees firsthand what fiefdom they live in.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 4.5k

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

Winter is a hard thing to go through again. It is still the worst time of the year when her feet, now stiffened by the cold, continue to move out of foolishness, with papers under her arms. Time is an unfortunate thing that continues to pass without her consent. 

Karen believes that it is the easy way to deal with the change of activities, the way she works against the contempt of many shinobi who see her go through her typical routine to the main house. 

They watch her, they observe her as always, not being so brazen about doing something physical when Tobirama or Hashirama are firm in maintaining their position in the eyes of those who doubt her role within the clan. 

Traditionalist idiots who, like the council, think her position was invented. She will not say it was, her kidnappers have still taken it upon themselves to prove the opposite. 

Making her work as an instructor of civilian life with a title that, although clumsily, she pretends to be... though she never had the makings of an aristocrat. 

“Seriously, these people,” she doesn’t avoid saying, maintaining her position. She snorts. The steam is normal when the hot hair comes out of her mouth. She doesn’t tremble... she clings to her elegant demeanor. 

One that she didn’t know she could obtain... but under the supervision of Grandma Kaori and Mikami it wasn’t difficult. It was either that or being beaten to exhaustion until she corrected her bad habits. 

She huffs, hating having to remember those traumas... the bruises on her hands were evidence of her poor interest in being part of the etiquette. “Karen-sama,” a boy gives her a subtle smile to catch up with her. 

Despite the bad blood of many of the clan members, there are a few who are blindly loyal to Hashirama and this boy is part of the fan club who believes in their boss’ idealism. 

Adorable. 

“Oh, good morning Masarato-kun.” She smiles because this child, despite the dirty and extravagant clothing, evidence that he comes from a place that she no longer asks about, answers with the same kindness. 

“Good morning,” he greets cordially in a solemn formality. “You should have told me to bring this to him... so that you would not have to go out,” he explains casually to take part of her load. 

In a thoughtful kind gesture. 

“No way kid, you also have things to do,” the woman states seeing that it will be difficult to take back her load. “So don’t bother, I don’t want your instructor to scold you again.” 

“I am done for today.” 

“Oh, that’s good,” the girl accepts with a shrug. “I hope so... because I don’t want them to scold you again, alright?” The boy just blushes in evidence of remembering a past incident. 

“Uh... I will try.” 

“Fine,” the woman sighs with a light movement between her hands to warm them. Her clothing is ridiculously heavy compared to the ladies who walk around in light yukatas with a simple shawl on their backs. 

As always, she is wearing a double yukata with a velvety interior, not to mention two stockings, gloves and another huge shawl in her shoulders. She looks ridiculous... like a huge motley, nor caring because she is warm. 

It is what is enough for her... the only way to go out and deliver these numbers. 

“Good morning,” she greets the guards who watch the duo enter. They give her a slight bow in evidence of her own level, many still continue to believe that she is noble but she no longer rejects the idea. 

Despite the gossip, rumors and accusations... they have basic manners. 

“Good morning, Karen-sama,” another says clearly, one of considerable height and tall hair in a light braid. “Hashirama-sama is busy today,” he mentions before she enters. 

“Really?” The woman huffs, tired of the option of returning empty-handed. She looks at the parchment in Masarato’s hands. “I had to deliver some numbers... and discuss the results.” 

“I apologize, but it will be another time,” the guard sighs with a severe blink. 

“Fine.” With a shrug she looks at the boy who blinks in confusion. “We have to come back later,” she says, turning on her heels almost about to go down the first staircase. 

“Karen-san,” someone calls with his typical harsh voice. She raises her eyebrow discreetly at the look of one of the elders of the council and snorts. She didn’t want to run into those annoying people but that’s what she gets when she comes personally to deliver said work done in her comfortable home. 

“Good morning Tamamo-san,” she greets as etiquette dictates with height and elegance... Again she gives thanks for having the training in this type of things in a way that she will not say out loud. “I didn’t think I would see you.” 

“I would say the same. I had heard that you are not very adept at this climate.” 

“No, I am not,” the woman confirms seeing how the boy next to her has been lowering his head as a symbol of respect for the high hierarchy. 

“You, child. You can go. I have to talk to Karen-san,” the old man claims firmly. 

“Uh...” The boy looks doubtful still with the scrolls in his hands. He sighs and hands over said things to bow again. “Excuse me.” He leaves with one last look at her, leaving her at the edge of the stairs with this bitter company. 

The guards look, but do not comment, maintaining their position in the designed place. 

“This generation is becoming insolent.” 

“I do not think so,” she defends with her hands busy. The scrolls are light, so she doesn’t care about having them back. “What do you need?” 

“So direct.” 

“Uh, well I was just saying, since time is valuable for everyone, right?” 

“Mph...” The old man doesn’t look happy about her answer. “Perhaps we can go to another room, unless you want to discuss this the cold.” 

Karen looks insecure but accepts so as not to snub the old man, which makes her continue in his direction. She looks at the room that is not that far away. There is a table in the middle with various pillows around it. 

The old man is the one who breaks the tense silence of an awkward situation when she sits in a seiza position that would make Mikami proud. “I heard you have been working hard.” 

“I am,” she nods gently. 

“I see...” The eldest keeps some biting comments. “I have heard that you have some interesting initiatives.” 

“Something like that,” says the woman. “I do not know much about your jobs or classifications, since I am a civilian.” She remembers how little information they have given her in this time, how the clan is managed and what job she has. She doesn’t judge them... in some way, they must be maintained even if they are haired as assassins or to pull certain political strings. 

They are shinobis, like some type of ninjas that she previously suspected and now it is more than verified. 

She doesn’t care... as long as they don’t actively involve her, although it’s not like she can do much. 

“Mmmmm...” It seems that he wants to say something else, when he looks again at that closed door. “Tobirama-sama... I know you are there,” guessing who is watching, he comments, cutting off any type of question that she wants to ask. Karen is not scared when the door is opened revealing the bitter shinobi. 

She is not very surprised by these appearances and how they guess certain positions. 

“Good morning,” he greets as if nothing had happened. “I was not listening.” 

“Like your father, you know you cannot lie to me,” the old man mocks with a sip if a drink she didn’t know he had in his hands. Karen sighs... she doesn’t want to detail every strange movement. 

Seriously, if they wanted to, they would have killed her already. 

“Mmmmm...” Tobirama doesn’t say anything else to look at her. “Karen?” 

“I came to deliver the scrolls,” she says, showing the things that were next to her. “Tamamo-san told me that he had something to tell me.” 

“It is nothing important,” the old man assures, making her snort, tired of being in the middle of this plot. She shakes her head to stand up and sighs in resignation. 

“Is Hashirama already finished?” She decides to ask, adjusting her hard clothing. The man does not comment anything to affirm, as he always remains expectant and cold. 

“I hope to talk to you later... if you do not mind,” the old man says before he leaves with the guard. 

“Tamamo-san,” the albino comments. 

“It is nothing serious Tobirama-sama, just a curious old man,” he smiles without guilt of hiding whatever he wants to discuss. Karen snorts and looks at the man to sigh. 

“I want to finish with this... I’m cold,” the girl states looking at the bitter companion who accepts. “I shall see you later, Tamamo-san,” the girl assures, bowing in respect to continue the path. There is silence between the corridors, the snow begins to fall again and makes her think that she wanted to beat the ice. 

“You shouldn’t talk to them alone,” the albinos colds harshly, far from any discreet ear. 

“It’s not like I can reject, you know?” 

“Mph...” The man doesn’t comment anything. “You do not know what it means to be careful.” 

Karen rolls her eyes. “I’m a civilian, someone who doesn’t have your magic... what do you expect me to do?” 

“It is not that majik you say.” 

“Magic,” Karen corrects quickly frowning. “Whatever.” 

“Mph... idiot, I do not care if you die, but cleaning up the mess and whatever caused it will be annoying.” 

“Wow, I appreciate your concern,” the woman bites sarcastically, irritated by his offhanded comment. “If it happens, I will pull your feet... be sure of that.” 

Tobirama gives her the look of ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying, but I’ll leave it be because I’m smarter than you’ that makes her ignore him. The silence between them, the tensions and hateful comments are natural when he doesn’t decide to ignore her. 

For the most part there is irritating silence... they are not the best companions, especially when they argue so much about social, bureaucratic issues and process corrections that she is willing to point out, taking the work she has been given very seriously. 

Did they think she won’t say anything? If that’s what they took her out for, right? Besides, she has to work on something or otherwise she’ll go crazy thinking about things she should do, like running away, not paying attention to these people or committing suicide. 

The last thing was the alarm that made her figurative glass tell her that it was time to accept this kidnapping hand again. Thinking that death will be a way out is sad... depressing. The worst of the red flags for her survival. 

She can’t be in her world, many things have happened that can drive people crazy... but death, taking one’s own life, no... she shakes her thoughts to better focus. Seeing Hashirama was a relief after so much judgement by her partner. 

He smiles and begins to explain part of the light damage of the last missions, without going into detail about their way of working. It is better to finish this soon before she can imagine it. 

She is cold and wants to return to her sweet home... although it is not her home, she begins to foolishly consider it that way. 

──

Writing in ink is no longer so rustic, she has gotten used to the type of tools she has here. She snorts because she never liked making budgets even though every year-end, she had to make numbers, invoices and so on. 

Her work was always entertaining, and now with the absence of the calculator she has become accustomed to carrying out operations with cleanliness... she misses the pen, pencil and typewriter, they would be useful, and a notebook as well. 

“You have gotten used to it very well.” Hashirama, as always, gives her a sufficient look in that room that he has arranged to do this annoying job. The woman is not scared when that presence indicates that he has been watching her fight with some things for a while. 

The ink spills which causes her to glare at him. 

“Seriously,” she complains sighing to look at her ruined work. 

“I apologize.” 

“You’re not sorry... I know you aren’t, because from the first time you did it you would have have stopped,” she complains, remembering those occasions where he suddenly appeared. She gets annoyed by those hateful shinobi abilities that show her how mortal and vulnerable she is compared to these people. 

He looks embarrassed. 

“But anyway...” She looks at the ruined parchment and then focuses on the person standing at the door. “You’re surely running away from paperwork... From what I understand you have an annual closing with the Daimyo, right?” 

“Tobi told you, didn’t he?” 

“Well, considering that the last few times you have used me as a distraction for this, he already warned me,” she crosses her arms still sitting with the blanket on her shoulders, although the heating in the house is spectacular it is still very cold. 

But that’s not the point. “It’s annoying that he comes to tell me that as if I could stop you from doing whatever you want,” the woman complains easily, without hiding her irritation when they think she can stop him. 

The man becomes exaggeratedly depressed. She almost swears she saw a cloud over his head that makes her frown because of such a strange thing that is logically impossible. 

“Don’t get depressed... well, what do you need?” 

“Uh?” 

“Come on, I know you’re using me as an excuse, but I understand that most of the time you come to consult things... surely related to the nobles or those civil things that you think I can understand.” 

“Well,” he looks trapped. “The Daimyo is a very cold man, many times he is afraid of me... but now, I don’t know. Last month he made his daughter attend me.” 

“You and I know that you are not stupid not to understand that hint.” 

“Well yes... but I can’t refuse her attention.” 

“As I understood from Tobirama, which I still don’t understand why he told me, you are engaged.” 

“Yes.” The man looks trapped again. He blinks twice with something to say but he doesn’t dare. “Did he tell you?” 

“Yes, in one of our many fights,” the woman grunts, dismissing the detour. “But the point here, use that as an excuse.” 

“I already told him.” 

“Well... she is the princess of Uzu, right?” 

“Did he tell you that too?” 

“No, Mikami told me in one of her lessons,” she shrugs. “I don’t know why the people around here think I’m interested in seeing your love situation.” The man blushes quickly, which makes her sigh to ignore it. “You’re a strange brat.” 

“I am not a brat.” 

“You’re young.” 

“You too.” 

“Not so much.” 

“...?” 

“I’m over 30, kid,” she laughs amused by the reaction of the young man who makes her blink to look at her cheekily. “Uh... I feel offended by your doubt.” 

“No, you just... well, look younger.” 

“Oh... well, I’ll try to be the perfect excuse for you during this time,” the elder mocks with grace at such an innocent comment from a man capable of killing without mercy. She smiles... he looks embarrassed but doesn’t stop her from bothering him about it. 

“I...” 

“Hashirama,” someone growls from a point behind him in the hallway. He sounds annoyed while the older brother is trapped. Who would say the youngest is the responsible one? She would laugh if it weren’t for the fact that Tobirama looks tired and irritated. 

She doesn’t want to fight him now. 

“You... I told you not to distract him,” says the albino watching as his brother runs away without any care, leaving them both alone. 

“It’s not my fault,” the woman raises her hands in peace. “You know what I think about it.” 

He frowns. “Seriously one of these days...” 

“Yes, yes, you will kill me and everything else,” she sighs looking at the youngest. “You know, be less harsh... You also need rest no matter how much of a leader you are.” 

“Do not talk if you do not understand.” 

“I was a leader before, I know that people expect a lot from us... it’s just that we are also human, we get tired and need time for ourselves in addition to activities outside of the routine.” 

“It does not matter. We are not civilians.” 

“Thank you,” the woman complains with a frown just as offended by the contempt. Seeing herself alone again was not pleasant anymore when she had a lot to say in that subject. 

She snorts... and looks at the scroll she has to make again. “Stupid shinobi,” she curses loudly starting to copy the work, one that she still has doubts about that she will clarify when she presents it. 

Entering types of bureaucratic processes is as important as analyzing the income from time to time. The conversion of money and numbers still has issues that will be corrected before being presented to the council. 

She huffs and focuses again following the current, far from any havoc. 

She hopes so. 

──

She finished her own activities late at night. Hashirama had been excited by the new perspective of her job that would ensure he had less paperwork to sign. Karen was preparing the scrolls when the leader had to rush out. 

Since she does not follow him easily in those tasks, they always war her to stay away, which she easily does... She takes what is in her hands when she begins to leave, but she stops short when one of the guards denies her exit. 

“I have to go back,” the woman explains with a frown. 

“It is not the best time, Karen-sama,” he warns, blocking her path and pushing her back. It’s when she hears a scream that scares her, because it’s so heartbreaking. 

The guard looks at her but continues the course to return through the point. Karen stands awkardly... she gulps thickly in fear of what is beginning to get louder, the noise is abnormal... she had not heard it before. 

Maybe because the house is a bit away crossing a few trees with a round trip. 

She had gotten so used to it that she didn’t think she was in the middle of something... She leaves the scrolls and rushes when the scream that was heard before reminds her. She grabs her yukata firmly, leaving that heavy shawl behind in her haste. 

She stops at the edge of the stairs to see how many men begin to enter along with women in different types of wounds and gets scared... she remembers the topic of war that Tobirama mentioned before and whose explanation was never given to her. 

Almost like in those movies where the battles are so bloody... She sees that there are a lot of people, most of them don’t complain but there is some who she especially cares for: a group of children who are lying not far from the main house. 

“Masarato!” She rushes, not caring that they have warned her not to go out. She almost falls but continues with a typical clumsiness. She is disgusted... She sees the blood when the group of boys are lost, frightened and wounded. “What happened to him?” She asks while she uses one of her hands and tries to cover the wound. 

She knows first aid... but this is too much. 

“Uh... hu...” The youngest one, about 7 years old, is crying on the other side. 

“Uchihas,” another bites harshly. He is about 10 years old, a little younger than the boy whose wound she is trying to cover. Karen is pale... a child should not be like this, even if he is the oldest in the group. 

Masarato is around 11... right? She knows he had his birthday last week. 

“Karen, you should not be here.” Tobirama is the one who barks next to her. He pushes her to start analyzing, there are many people rushing to treat the injured, she even sees some elderly people spread out... as if they were so used to this type of situation. 

“I... can help.” 

“No,” the man frowns. “You are of no use,” he points out as he makes signs and his hand begins to glow mysteriously. She glups... her heart stops to watch the albino treat the kid. 

She gets up and begins to draw up her own plan. She can’t have this magic, she won’t be useful to what she believes the others are so used to. She sees how Hashirama looks at her from afar, he is treating a particularly bloody group without getting close. 

Nobody says anything to her... everyone ignores her when she begins to bring a small tub that, thank God, she found somewhere with water and various rags that she improvised. 

She cleans, orders and carries out some activities that she only saw in emergencies or as intructed in her training, but an alert in a closed company is not the same as this... war is always hard. 

Karen can’t be of use... Tobirama doesn’t stop her when she talks to the kind guard who tried to get her away from such a situation. “You have to evaluate the most critical ones,” she explains. “Hashirama!” She runs to who she sees the easiest. “You have to sort them. I can clean simple wounds and treat them in my own way. I’ll leave the complicated ones to you.” 

“Karen... no.” The man sighs when he sees that there is someone who needs help.  “We have our procedure, but if you want to organize it... Kantaro, help her,” he orders the guard who stood behind her. 

He accepts. 

“Fine.” She looks dirty and has some blood and stains on her clothes. She doesn’t know if it would be okay for her to reorganize the sequence to follow in a different way in these cases, but she does it anyway. She tidies up and helps and cleans when necessary. There are no tents, so she supposes she has a lot to work with. 

The night becomes long... there are more people and women who begin to help her without any kind of questioning or extra doubt. The more serious ones she puts in front while with the little she knows she instructs those who want to be of help in cleaning. 

She should ask later if they have things for sterilization or tetanus shots. 

She clenches her teeth with her heart and adrenaline at 100%, spending that night awake... watching how there are smaller children among the wounded to end up at the point where there are bodies without moving. 

Seeing dead people is complicated... another trauma for her list.

──

“You should get cleaned,” Karen sighs, approaching a girl she knows. Mikami is not the type of emotional people, she is a strict guardian capable of hitting her hands of back if necessary. 

She sees her motionless next to a body when there is still a lot to do and sighs again... As a civilian there are already some kunoichis who have taken up her job of cleaning and ordering the men where to place the people who continue to arrive. 

Tobirama had left... surely to chase more survivors or expel whoever is pressuring them. Hashirama has gotten lost in the drama with the council. 

The shinobi ignores her looking into the lifeless eyes of a man a little older than her... with their hands clasped as if her life depended on it. 

It’s sad, the death of someone close always is. 

“You must get treatment,” the civilian assures, taking an improvised clean cloth. She is stopped by the hand that she swears almost breaks her wrist. 

“I am fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” she frowns, not at all intimidated, ignoring her survival gene with a long sigh. “Just... let me treat you, go to the doctor to close the wound.” 

“They are just cuts... light ones.” Mikami blinks to release her and look at the man sighing. She tries to clean her again and it’s nice that she doesn’t push her away, but she sees that it hurts. “I suppose... you do not know what this means.” 

Karen does not say anything. Many have told her that because she is a civilian she has surely not suffered losses, wounds... death and the loss of a battle greatly affect the mind and emotional state. 

“Civilians don’t go through this.” 

“...Many have said that, ” she responds. “But just because I am a civilian doesn’t mean I don’t understand what it means to lose your people,” she says because deep down she lost an entire life by falling into this reality. 

She looks at the woman, who is still focused on the dead man. 

“But... it depends on us how to take it,” the civilian assures with a touch of wisdom. 

“Mph... you do not know what you are saying.” 

“I know...” Karen lowers her head, stopping cleaning. She looks into the distance with glassy eyes that are beginning to become heavy with sleep. She wipes her cheek and Mikami blinks, understanding something. “But we are here, alive... and it is up to us to move forward, valuing the special moments of those people, because it would be sad if we stopped, right?” 

“For being civilian...” The woman mocks. “He... told me he would marry me,” out of nowhere she confesses after a moment of silence. “He protected me when they surrounded me.” She clings with a light sob, noticing that she wants to stop this weakness. 

She’s a shinobi, she supposes she has a rule for sentimentality. 

“It’s okay to cry, to vent to move forward, you know?” She is clumsy in consoling because she always ignored people who cried for problems, and a death... is disturbing. 

She doesn’t know how she ended up being the cloth of a woman so strong that just like the others they can kill her. She hugs her and sighs... because they are still human no matter how much magic they have. 

Thus Hashirama finds her along with one of the councilors, who start to count the dead at dawn. 

Dawn is a sign of hope... that the worst is over. 

And to be a civilian... she was a key point, to move forward... to demonstrate to the shinobi that she is not the same as the others... unintentionally gaining the favor of a few of the council. 

That saw her actions for the better... although not everyone took it that way. 

A/N: Karen had not had these types of moments, she had only seen from a distant perspective... like that time she was almost left adrift without visiting her. But now she was present because of her current job, one that is still light on comparison of what Hashirama has in his hands.

Will this change the perspective of others? ...I don’t know, distrust is something natural in shinobi, but Karen is still a civilian who has a lot of courage in going to help when she has been ignored and pointed out so much during this time.

She is human... and although it is not within her abilities, she does her thing in her own way.

Well, this is just a little of what will come, a chapter full of changes with more bureaucratic things that our beloved OC will begin to take on. Not that she wants to... but she doesn’t have much to do and she no longer makes an effort to go out. When she knows there is no one waiting for her outside.

Masarato was saved, although he was wounded... many died in this skirmish...

Author-chan out! 

[prtector]

𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 — ?                taric  would  have  bemoaned  in  harrowing  embarrassment  beholden  the  morrow  in  his  lonesome  .  all  that  gathers  however  ,  is  a  twitch  of  his  lips  in  a  gentle  lopsided  smile  .  not  forced  ,  but  as  smooth  as  the  joinery  of  a  soldier’s  hand  to  his  sword  .  so  sensual  &  perfectly  cut  to  it’s  curve  ,  a  dedicated  blacksmith  of  his  craft  ,  was  taric’s  even  &  perfectly  executed  expression  .  a  hum  is  bubbled  between  white  teeth  ,  then  his  voice  intones  .  a  soft  rise  of  a  pitch  of  his  voice  ,  beckoning  a  charisma  he’s  postured  &  in  his  years  being  among  the  barracks  of  fellow  countrymen  .  of  course  ,  this  interaction  was  more  cordial  &  met  on  a  standalone  standard  of  respect  &  social  etiquette  .

                ❝  jayce  —  ❞  he  repeats  candidly  ,  memorizing  each  syllable  on  the  buds  of  his  tongue  ,  like  it  were  scriptures  of  an  old  veneer  paper  soaking  up  the  blots  of  ink  .  taric  was  like  a  sponge  ,  if  he  had  to  accurately  portray  himself  in  word  form  .  his  memory  was  impeccable  ,  &  he  cared  enough  to  detail  a  name  to  face  with  perfect  execution  .  he  was  an  aspect  that  warred  against  the  macabre  of  death  &  being  able  to  decipher  components  of  enemies  that  would  be  his  play  ,  ultimately  leveraging  life  to  a  greater  extent  in  lifespan  .  that  alone  can  be  a  great  descriptor  for  not  being  the  type  as  someone  who  is  gregarious  [  ;  ]  no  one  typically  looked  to  him  for  great  company  .  he  was  just  a  fabled  rumor  atop  targon  ,  that  not  even  a  high  altitude  dirt  -  farmer  of  the  mountain  would  climb  &  see  for  himself  .

being  approached  &  confronted  on  the  mannerisms  of  his  appearance  amused  him  greatly  .  while  it’s  a  saying  not  out  of  the  realm  for  him  ,  something  about  him  was  enough  to  completely  procure  their  attention  .  life  is  a  funny  thing  —  he  would  think  .  always  had  its  abnormal  ways  of  unifying  others  ,  even  if  one  is  quite  socially  inept  at  holding  a  conversation  for  long  periods  .

that  would  be  his  case  .

                taric  repels  dislodged  strands  &  combs  them  back  through  dark  locks  that  gushed  down  his  shoulders  ,  tucked  attractively  beneath  the  dip  of  his  clavicle  &  neck  gaps  .  if  his  practiced  anonymity  had  been  compromised  ,  like  it  was  now  ,  he  could  make  use  of  that  [  ;  ]  while  he  was  as  clever  as  he  was  beautiful  ,  taric  hardly  knew  the  social  practices  of  two  people  .  so  it  greatly  helped  when  jayce  was  the  one  to  have  given  him  something  to  work  with  .  ❝  you’re  a  very  astute  man  of  your  craft  ,  i  can  see  .  i’m  not  lost  ,  i’m  [  ...  ]  ❞  the  targonian  aspect  lowers  a  few  pitches  .  addled  with  what  he  was  doing  here  again  .

he  was  a  bit  too  caught  up  in  the  beauty  of  the  environment  around  him  to  pinpoint  his  goal  ,  taric  hardly  thought  anything  of  it  .  he  thought  the  scenery  was  masterful  ,  like  a  man’s  hands  were  this  city’s  maestro  &  cradled  it  like  a  newborn  ,  forming  it  to  it’s  motherland  .  crystallized  eyes  briefly  glimmers  like  the  dull  pinpricks  of  burning  constellations  ,  earnestly  searching  for  a  subject  .  ❝  i  think  i  can  handle  a  little  trouble  ,  ❞  he  tracks  carefully  ,  his  voice  slow  &  didn’t  decipher  any  fluster  .

                ❝  i’m  open  for  a  change  of  scenery  .  if  you  call  it  being  ‘  lost  ‘  ,  that  is  .  while  i’m  not  a  local  —  ❞  taric  nurtures  the  groove  of  a  rustic  appliance  between  his  fingers  ,  modestly  reaching  to  return  it  back  to  the  merchant  .  ❝  it’s  always  interesting  to  see  local  prices  .  i’ve  made  long  journeys  from  each  region  ,  &  climate  not  always  favoring  the  warm  embrace  of  the  sun  .  ❞  he  returns  the  warmed  gaze  of  jayce’s  eyes  with  a  serene  one  of  his  own  .

❝  passing  through  is  a  vague  way  to  put  it  .  ❞  unsurprisingly  ,  the  question  did  little  to  smooth  taric’s  brow  .  he  thumbs  the  brick  line  of  his  chin  ,  seemingly  mulling  over  the  inquiry  like  a  practiced  distinguished  author  .  ❝  [  ...  ]  perhaps  another  time  i  can  share  with  you  my  story  .  i  should  be  the  one  asking  ,  ❞  taric  begins  placidly  ,  ❝  what  drew  you  here  ?  i  didn’t  take  a  very  highly  publicized  icon  of  piltover  to  be  humbling  himself  on  these  streets  today  .  ❞

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄 — 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄. Jayce is all too thankful he's had time to get used to keeping his expression schooled in place while out & about in the City of Progress' lively streets. Swallowing down a slight smile, his head owlishly tilts to the side, gaze thinning faintly in some mirth as he leans at an angle. Comfort exudes from him in beach-side, lazy waves. Practiced, artificial, but fooling enough as he breaks his stare to take a few small steps in close.

While the man stood out like a sore thumb, large & imposing stature clothed in bright colours the shade of a lovely coveted gem — he seemed completely at ease even with the bit of attention still being carelessly pinned in his direction. It's amusing, but also enviable how little the other's bothered. Standing tall, shoulder's eased down in nonchalance, The stranger continues to peruse the selection of wares laid out with a languid grace.

It's a nice moment. Too nice. As usual, Jayce acts before he can think like most would expect him to when he finally goes to greet the other man. It slips out, the first thought that comes to mind, a comment made about the selection that also conveniently, flatteringly, works for the man himself — & as soon as he catches onto what he'd just said, Jayce sputters, all that prided careful composure shattering like fragile ice beneath a heavy boot. He tries to save face, he really does, by explaining things in a wild flurry of laughter. His lips twitch skywards, a mix of amusement, mortification & as usual, some curiosity added into the lively blend — but the other catches the mess with a soft-edged grin.

Least it seems to be taken well enough if the tone is anything to go by — a lulling kind, hearty & rumbling. Pleasant, all things considered.

Jayce clears his throat with the dying pangs of his own laugh, easing quieter as he moves to cross his arms with a small shake of his head. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not — that he's been added into the mix of other people who'd probably bothered the unfortunate ( fortunate? ) traveler. He says as much with a quiet snort, dawn-tinged sights thinning once more as they flicker between the other's own.

❝ Might make things a little less awkward, yeah. ❞ Despite his words, his voice bears an amusement of his own, something playful but polite, teetering in a comfortable balance. Odd, but rare, so the Inventor let's it slide. Despite the clumsy stumble of a first impression, Jayce slips into the familiar routine of greeting someone new easily enough. ❝ Taric . . . ❞ He hums out with a testing, smoothened lilt, smile garnering an impish edge as he arches a notched brow.

❝ All the way from Targon? That's quite the trip. It's nice to meet you. I'm Jayce. ❞ Tawny gold find their way back over the merchant's selection, wincing when he catches the clear irritation shot his way. Doing his best to wave it off, he steps back from the space, turning slow on his heel to better face the other. He can't deny that he's curious. As silly as it is, there's something that does strike him as different, enough so that Jayce doesn't feel all that bad for pausing in his own restocking detour to make small talk. ❝ So, anything in particular draw you here? Or were you just passing through? ❞

Ever the gentleman he's seemed so far, Taric offers a hand. Jayce takes it, giving it a friendly squeeze, a lightly bouncing shake that's coupled with a sunny grin.

❝ Not lost, are you? ❞

[robininthelabyrinth]

Curse-breaker (Chapter 4/4)

- ao3 -

“You know him, right?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. He was trying not to appear as nervous as he felt in asking, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Nie-gongzi?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “I do. And thank you for calling him that, he prefers it.”

There were those that had started calling him Curse-breaker, as if it were a proper title; Jiang Cheng had heard it said a few times, and while he didn’t personally disagree with the moniker, which seemed appropriate, he also knew better than to just drop it into a conversation.

Luckily. He was trying to make a good impression here.

“What’s he like?” Jiang Cheng blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean – it’s just – I didn’t see him much when he visited the Lotus Pier –”

He was making it worse.

It was only that he’d never quite met anyone with so much presence as Nie Mingjue: taller even than Jiang Cheng’s father, with that strange eye that seemed to see everything and anything. His features were generally set in a neutral expression that made him seem almost unworldly, like some god untouched by human concerns, but which sometimes softened a little when he approved of something – or someone.

Jiang Cheng could feel his cheeks going red, and tried to suppress it.

“Mingjue-xiong liked you,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng lost the battle at once, his whole face heating up until it felt unbearably hot. This was worse than the time that Nie Mingjue had come to the Lotus Pier and told his parents to value Jiang Cheng more or else, and then his father had come in with a smirk and a snarl and somehow made them do it. “He said so.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He said you were talented and faithful, with a good heart, and that we’d see great things from you.”

Jiang Cheng was going to die.

“That’s nice,” he said, with an effort. “I thought very highly of him, too. He’s…great.”

Wow. ‘Great’. Was that really the best he could do?

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “He really is,” he said, and sighed. “I had the same reaction, you know. He’s…a lot.”

Jiang Cheng felt seen. “I know,” he said effusively. “He’s just – you know?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said. “Just –”

He waved his hand in the air. Not even making some sort of gesture, just a meaningless sort of wave, but for some reason Jiang Cheng understood him completely.

There really just weren’t words sometimes, when you wanted to describe things or people that inspired feelings that went beyond the merely describable. Nie Mingjue was one of those – Jiang Cheng had known that Lan Xichen would understand, and sure enough, he did.

And to think that Wei Wuxian liked Lan Wangji better!

Really, his shixiong might be more talented than Jiang Cheng in many ways, ways that were often a matter of jealousy, but Jiang Cheng clearly had better taste.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said, and Jiang Cheng tensed and turned to look – but it was only Wen Qing, so that was fine. “Lan-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi, I was sent to spend some time with you.”

She probably meant that she was sent away so that the adults would have time to talk about issues they thought were too sensitive to involve the younger generation, or else they just wanted to start drinking earlier in the afternoon than usual and didn’t want her judging them from a medical standpoint. Either might be true – Wen Qing was widely acclaimed as one of the most talented in their generation, as terrifying with her needles as other people might be with their sword, from more or less the first moment she’d finally been allowed to join the rest of them on equal grounds.

They greeted her, trying to stand up to be polite, but she waved them down irritably and took a seat instead. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “We were just commenting on his many admirable qualities.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, even more emphatically.

Wen Qing looked at them both with that critical eye of hers for a long moment.

Then she sighed in a huff. “He’s really all that and more, isn’t he?” she said.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said.

“He’s just –” Jiang Cheng tried the same gesture as Lan Xichen earlier, and was gratified when Wen Qing started nodding herself in total agreement. “Right?”

“Right.”

-

Nie Mingjue was aware that many people liked to stare at them, but they had assumed it was because of how unusual they were – even putting aside the eye, which was their most obviously not-normal feature, their behavior was not always in line with regular people’s. They didn’t show their emotions on their face as easily, being more naturally inclined towards sternness, and their manner was both sharp and incisive, straightforward and blunt; they had missed critical years of social development while lost in what amounted to seclusion, too busy solidifying their sense of self, consolidating their we into an I.

(They were still trying to figure out gender, a process complicated by the fact that it hadn’t made much sense to either of them to begin with. They were starting to suspect it would be better to just give up on it entirely.)

It turned out, according to Nie Huaisang, that that was not why all those people were staring.

“When you say they like me…”

“Sexually or romantically attracted, usually both,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have a lot of would-be suitors. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Jiang Yanli –”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use their names directly like that,” Nie Mingjue said, though they weren’t sure about that. They’d forgotten more etiquette than they’d ever learned. “Also, isn’t Jiang Yanli getting married to Jin Zixuan?”

“He’s another of your admirers. As is Meng Yao…no, sorry, Jin Ziyao. You know he secretly thinks that you killed Jin Guangshan for him, right?”

They’d killed Jin Guangshan because he was rotten through and through, and he didn’t even have a qi deviation or a tormenting heart demon to blame for it. He just thought of people as things, even the ones he supposedly liked, and acted accordingly…they hadn’t really thought through the consequences of killing him when they’d done it, having long ago forgotten the concept of political considerations, but it was really amazing what could be covered up or excused if multiple sect leaders put their minds to it while the rest just breathed a sigh of relief that Jin Guangshan was gone.

“That seems like too many people,” they said. “They can’t all be my…admirers.”

“You think that’s it? I haven’t even gotten to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian – both at once, if that’s your preferred flavor – and even that feral child Jin Ziyao found in Kuizhou…you know just the other week, he loudly declared that you were better than sweets and the entire room sighed all at once in agreement?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. There are even rumors that say that Sect Leader Wen might be interested…”

They shrugged.

Nie Huaisang squinted at them. “Da-ge. Did you know about that one?”

“Sect Leader Wen is not subtle,” they said dryly. “But if it makes you feel better, his interest is purely a matter of cultivation, and also our father has already hit him for even making the suggestion.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t look impressed. “Are you sure it’s purely a matter of cultivation? Would you be able to tell if it wasn’t?”

Nie Mingjue considered how little they’d recognized any of the other people who were purportedly interested in them. “No,” they admitted.

“Hmm. What about Teacher Lan?”

“What about Teacher Lan?” they asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing. Just something I read somewhere…”

Probably one of those spring books that he was always sneaking around, they concluded.

“Though…you have been going out of your way to meet up with Teacher Lan more often recently…”

“He’s helping me figure out some of the bureaucratic intricacies of changing succession,” they said. “He’s had the most experience, having to do it twice – once to get his brother out of the line of succession, and another to get him back in. He’s a good teacher.”

He was, too. For all of Nie Huaisang’s tall tales about Lan Qiren’s strictness and overly-rigid insistence on orthodoxy, the man himself had a very calming presence, still and tranquil. It made them think of a musical instrument and, using the Nie cultivation method as a base, start to think strange thoughts…

Though not the sorts of thoughts Nie Huaisang had in mind.

“I mean, I guess. Even I learned eventually, and – wait. Why do you need to know about how to change succession? You’re already the heir.”

“That’s the problem,” Nie Mingjue said. “I need to figure out how to abdicate my position in your favor.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“No, I’m not joking,” they said, because they knew their little brother. “I’m not suited for politics. I don’t think I ever was, and after everything that happened, I’m even less suited.”

They really weren’t. Too blunt, too sharp, too concerned with justice, too inhuman – they were good at fighting, in the sense that they knew how to be a saber as well as a human and could wield sharpness in the same way, a slash from their fingers being enough to cleave a man in half, but that wasn’t what being a sect leader was about.

No, Nie Huaisang would be much better at it.

“Da-ge, you can’t do this to me!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Do you know how much work it’d be? Anyway, you can’t – our father’s already promised all of Qinghe Nie to your future spouse! So there!”

“Then I just won’t ever get married.”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang waved his hands wildly. “You can’t do that! You – you – do you know how many hearts you’d be breaking?!”

“So you’ve informed me,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “It’s all right, Huaisang. I rather like the life Teacher Lan has made for himself, traveling all around and coming back every few seasons to teach something. I want to fight evil, and there’s a lot more evil out there than there is in here.”

Or, at minimum, there was more evil of the sort they were allowed to just stab. That was apparently frowned upon, in politics – there was a reason they said they weren’t suited for it.

“You’re not suited for fighting evil with a blade,” they added while Nie Huaisang was still spluttering. “But you can do wonders with people, if you’re given enough time to plan it. Being sect leader will put you in the position that will let you fight evil best, in your own way.”

“Not everything is about fighting evil, da-ge!”

“Isn’t it?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to have a good answer to that.

After a while, he finally said, “…you really think I’d be good at it?”

Nie Mingjue pulled their younger brother in for a hug.

“You’ll be magnificent,” they promised.

-

They liked travel, just as they’d suspected they would.

People always recognized them – the eye was very distinctive, and they were also very tall – and immediately rushed over to share all their problems. They were very happy to help. Some of them they could fix personally, generally the ones that were stabbable, while they had a wide enough set of acquaintances to deal with many of the others: those who needed healing to go to the Lan sect or Wen sect, depending on whether problem was mental or physical; those that needed advancement to the Jin sect or Jiang sect; mysteries to be solved to the newly established Wei sect over in Yiling; and anyone with anything more abstruse than that over to Nie Huaisang personally to sort of.

Their little brother liked a good puzzle.

As for Nie Mingjue’s part, they liked fighting evil, and they liked helping people, too, if they could manage it, so it all worked out quite well. The road could be a little lonely at times, all alone with no one around, but it wasn’t really that bad. They were welcome at just about every cultivation sect and most of the other places they’d passed by, so it wasn’t like they were lacking for company if they wanted it.

It was only sometimes that they wished that there was someone else who might want to share this type of life with them.

It was a difficult life, always roving and never satisfied, intent on fighting evil for an eternity and prizing the doing of it over normal things, everyday things; they knew that they couldn’t ask someone else to take on a mission so absurd as stamping out all evil in the world, and so they didn’t. Who would be so foolish as that? Not everyone could leave behind all their responsibilities and ties to the world the way they did, passing instead through their beloved one’s lives by chance like a leaf tossed in the wind – nor should they, if those ties gave them joy.

Take their current mission, for example. One of Nie Mingjue’s earlier trips had taken them from Yiling to the Baixue Temple, with the highly unorthodox Wei sect’s equally unorthodox head disciple, Xue Yang, tagging along with them so that they could – in Wei Wuxian’s words – beat some sense into his head, and it had been on that trip that they had met Song Lan, who was thoroughly charmed by the idea of a sect established on principles of brotherhood rather than blood.

He'd also been rather charmed, they thought, by Xue Yang himself, and the interest had been mutual.

(They were getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.)

So Song Lan had gone off with them, with Nie Mingjue dropping both him and Xue Yang back in Yiling, and when he’d gone back again another time they had seemed very happy. But Song Lan had been thinking about his master and martial brothers back at home, and he’d asked if Nie Mingjue would be willing to carry along some letters that he didn’t dare trust to the post.

Nie Mingjue, suspecting a request regarding marriage was involved, had readily agreed. Sure enough, once they’d dropped it off, the entire Baixue Temple had all but exploded in excitement – they’d barely managed to make it out of there in time to avoid being dragged into all the fuss.

And now they were wandering around nearby, shaking their head in amusement at all the noise they’d left behind, looking for something more interesting to do. Some evil to fight, or something like that.

They found both.

“Well, that was exhilarating,” they commended to the cultivator in white that had worked together with them to defeat a rather astounding number of evil creatures in an effort to save some rogue cultivators who’d gotten in over their heads. Nie Mingjue’s reputation was already ridiculous, and was only going to get worse, they knew, but really this was a lot even for them. They wouldn’t have been able to manage it without help.

“It was,” the cultivator said, and smiled at them. “My name is Xiao Xingchen, disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Who are you?”

“Nie Mingjue,” they said. They thought they’d heard of Baoshan Sanren before, but they weren’t entirely sure – they had a tendency to forget things that weren’t that important to them. They thought it might be something to do with Wei Wuxian’s mother –something to do with the immortal mountain, and a doom that fell on those who descended from it…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did those rogue cultivators call you Curse-breaker?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

They thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

It was a warm sound.

“Where are you going?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I can escort you, if you like.”

“Don’t you have things of your own to be doing?”

“Not really,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want to eradicate all evil in this world, a task that’ll take me a lifetime – and evil can be found anywhere. Why not with you?”

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head. “I don’t have a destination either,” he admitted. “I came down from the mountain because I wanted to help save all the people in the world.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. That was nearly as stupidly idealistic a goal as theirs.

“Well, then,” they said, and smiled. “In that case, why don’t we go together?”

It would be nice to have company, unrestrained by any obligations tied to the mortal world, and in return they could show Xiao Xingchen everything there was to see – introduce him to all the people, eat all the food, fight all the battles. And if in the end it turned out that that doom people talked about in regards to the mountain really was a thing…

Well, they’d see about that.

After all, Nie Mingjue had a bit of experience with curses like that.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 1; When you were young.

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader (Currently both young)

Word Count -> 3611

Themes -> Initial Fluff, don't be fooled by the title and summary, not yet at least lol-

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 2

Warnings -> None, tooth-rotting adorkable fluff, this is part 1

The redness of his hair poked out like the moon in a blanketed, dark sky at the dead hours of the sky. His glaring flame of a hair starking in contrast against the sea of cecilias.

There were three knocks to the Winery that day and his father, renowned businessman, had greeted a new set of faces to their humble abode.

Diluc was but a mere child who had lived for eight years and he had exercised his mind to remember the people that had come and go. They were always regal in aura, high in stature, brimming with promises of riches. This occasion had the same weight, but with a lesser intensity with the politeness the merchant family carried.

As usual, business matter were talked about by the adults and Diluc, the young had no means to pry.

So when he finally stared at you, he was pleasantly surprised. Visitors were usually taller, more mature, and came there to talk about adult stuff... never had he met a child the same as he come with those that come talk about finances.

You slightly flinched back when your stares connected, from what he did not know why, but you carry the same shock and intrigue he felt. "H-Hello there!" Crepus ghosted a look at the two children with a wistful and amused look, softening at the sight. His sole child had always been demure and the distance from Mondstadt had kept him away from opportunities of friendship, so when your parents revealed you as their tag-along to their business proposal, he thought it was too good a coincidence to pass. He, however, didn't expect Diluc to be the first to talk.

"Hi, hi!" You bounded up to him as if barreling, your initial nerves dominated by childlike wonder as your eyes darted over him, so fast even that he doesn't know where they had already gone. "Your- your hair, eyes! So pretty!" You placed your hands on his shoulders enthusiastically, missing a distant horrified gasp and a slight shush. "Like, like... fire tornadoes!"

"Fire tornadoes...?" Diluc asked warily and you vigorously explained how the wildness of his hair carried the chaos of tornadoes that had caught a raging flame in its razor winds.

You had always been an eccentric child, your mother reasoned with the older Ragnvindr but earned a hearty chuckle. No harm done, he assured as he can't seem to take his eyes off the two of you, even tho his business was right in front of him.

After proper introductions between the two children, and a promise of a longer talk, your supposed quick visit somehow made its way to dinner.

The many servants of the Winery had caught wind of the sudden changes in the itinerary and they were quick to adapt on the preparations of dinner. In the backdoors of kitchens and maid halls there were surprising chatter that accompanied them as they work. "Young Master Diluc and the merchant's little girl seems to be getting along quite well," the nanny and the other maids started the gossip with fervor at the intriguing news. "It's greatly the reason why Master Crepus had entertained them this long, the gardener caught wind of how amused he is just watching the two interact." When the banquet table was completed before the diners had arrived, a lot of the servants hid behind the cracks of the doors to watch the spectacle for themselves, to guarantee if the rumor that spread like wildfire was true and not some hallucination.

There was a quiet series of gasps and 'aw's when the main door opened to reveal the owners of the house and its current honored guests. The towering adults parted to display you clutching to Diluc's sleeve as he guided you to extra long table, a display that you seem to not be used to based on their observations as you felt lost on which large seat to take.

And the young master thought of this as the perfect opportunity to show off the things he had learned in his sessions of proper etiquette. Locating the nearest seat, Diluc pulled the chair out and gestured you to take a seat before gently pushing it back under the table. Satisfied with the distance, he made his way opposite of you as a sign of respect for his guest.

Crepus, your mother and father watched in amusement... as you two took your seats at the other end of the table farthest from them. But they paid no mind to call you two over when they saw how engrossed you are over your own conversation.

The chatter that night was boisterous and lively on all parties, for besides business and wine, all had talked with the atmosphere of good friends.

And dinner turned into a promise of a sleepover, how generous of the Ragnvindr family. The master of the house simply reasoned that Mondstadt was still a distance from the Winery, and it was too dangerous to travel at this time of night. But the servants knew more than they had let on, for they too felt the somberness in the eyes of Diluc when your parents announced your need to departure.

At this point, this whole visit was now held up by the fact that it was their young master's opportune time for a play date.

The whole day you two had been inseparable. Either being connected physically or just naturally stuck to each other's side through and through. Despite his innate nature to be a recluse or lack of communication among his age group, Diluc find himself not at all minding the way you stuck close to him like this.

When everyone else had departed, you and Diluc were still wide awake in the parlor in front of the blazing fireplace, your hands buried in his wild hair as you talked about your travels before coming to Mond. The young man hums as replies with his eyes closed, concentrated on the way you weave your hands through his fiery locks as you made tiny braids here and there.

Once Crepus had finished tonight's negotiation and seek out his own child (of which was missing from his room) he happened upon the two of you coddled up between a fort of pillows and blankets. The fireplace long been extinguished as the children slumbered.

You were noble not by blood, but by high commerce. Your parents had been travelling all over the continent to procure business opportunities and partnerships, and their duo of both financial prowess and economic behavior mastery had earned them a place in high society and funding. Noble merchants who had found themselves in the city of freedom with their sole child in tow.

The true goal was to establish at least one commerce ports and business services in EVERY nation in Teyvat, and that requires a lot of scouting and connections to do so.

Because of the constant move, you had seen A LOT and met quite a thousand of people in every walks of life. At your young age you barely remember them all truly but the loneliness within you was not something that can easily be quenched, as travelling meant leaving everyone behind for an indefinite time.

Diluc was a one of a kind boy, most probably because you had yet to step foot in the land of the Pyro Archon, but his red hair intrigued you to wit's end. It was reminiscent of a campfire that protects you from the cold of the night, the last hues of sunset in the horizon over the cliffs of your expedition, the sweet taste of fresh strawberries hand picked from the Inazuman plantations.

So at the news of settling down for a few years in Mondstadt reached your ears, unadulterated tears of pure happiness flowed out of your eyes so shockingly that you didn't even notice them immediately.

Not until you felt small hands cup your cheeks, its thumbs fervently swiping at the wetness. Your wide eyes met Diluc's worried ones and he asked if you're alright with a gentleness you've never heard from him. You grinned, "We can play again tomorrow, Diluc!"

And the three adults in the distance sighed in great relief as your mood lifted.

You cupped back Diluc's cheeks to reciprocate and gasped in overdramatic wonder at how soft and squishy they were, squealing, and then tackling him back into the soft beds of Cecilias.

"They've really become quite close ever since we touched Mondstadt," Crepus smiled behind his cup of tea and reveling himself with the warmth it brought to his throat.

"Honestly, our daughter needs to learn manners after him. She's always been so rowdy, I was scared the young master would have run away from her brashness," your mother quipped in before picking up her own cup to savor.

Crepus shared a glance with your father as they both found their gaze back to the both of you. "Practically inseparable," they hum, "I'd say we might as well seal them together to make sure our bloodlines prosper."

Your mother choked. "Are you implying- Diluc and (Y/N)?!" At the mention of your names, you and your companion turned your heads to the adults. "An arranged marriage? At such an early age too!"

"What's an arranged marriage?" The children spat out at the same time, informing the older people of the audience they had brought upon themselves. Crepus smiles warmly at the sight of your tiny arms wrapped around Diluc's shoulder as the redhead holds a Cecilia in place by your ear.

"It's a serious promise," the Ragnvindr started, "it makes sure that both of the people stays together forever their whole lives. After a grand ceremony." Diluc knew when his father talked about serious business and that's when he usually pays attention to his words, even if majority of the time it's something he barely understands.

But the thought of being able to be with each other together forever, the young boy slowly turned his head to face you, which urged you to look at him too. There was the same color of his hair splattered at his cheeks, but his gaze on you was wide and wondrous, as if asking a silent question, "I would love to be with Diluc forever! How about you, Diluc? Do you, do you?"

"I-I do! Yes!" The young redhead tried to match your enthusiasm as the older men chuckled, your mother silently dying at the predicament.

"Then that settles it!" Crepus mused, "Even tho I didn't expect my son to be the one getting proposed on."

April 29th, the day before Diluc's 9th birthday, the first birthday of his that you would be in attendance.

The servants of the house had been busy preparing for the grand event for days now, and tasks were more than piled up on the day before the true date. Hence why you'd find yourself playing with Diluc outside of the mansion without adult supervision. Your parents had helped in organizing the party with Diluc's father, as it also doubles as an opportunistic moment of meeting nobles and honorable businessmen all over Teyvat.

"Are you excited for tomorrow, Dilu? Just imagine the towering cake, so many food, and toys!" You two were passing by the grapevines of the winery, fascinated by the shining grapes under the direct gaze of the sun.

"Mmm, there would be a lot of people tho, lots of talking and talking," you plucked a healthy looking grape from the vine before you finally looked at your companion, finding a cute little pout between his smooth and chubby cheeks. "You know I'm not good around many people."

You cooed at the confession, indulging momentarily by patting his cheek (Diluc raised an eyebrow at your weird obsession over them) before patting his shoulder, "Well, well, as your fi- financee?" Fiancée, he corrected. "Yeah that! I'll be right by your side, if you need help, I'll be right there!"

When you saw him relax under your enthusiastic grin, you patted yourself on the back before expertly throwing the lone grape into your mouth. And crunched.

"Well, I guess you're much better with people- are you okay?"

The sourness. The undeniably waxy peel. Your teeth colliding with the core seed. Diluc watched your face contort from surprise to disgust to pure horror as you frantically whip your head from side to side in search of something, yet finding nothing you slightly bow your head.

"(Y/N), hey, what's wrong-" he reached his hand out and under to cup your jaw and raise your face to meet his, but in a manner of time seemingly slowing down, these events happened: you opened your mouth to discard the disgusting grape to the ground when in some funny coincidence, Diluc's open hand reached out under your chin, the wet and slimey prune of a grape plopping on his palm spot-on with a sound of disgust escaping you.

When you'd open your eyes, you gasped at the sight before you. Whipping your head up, you've seen the most horrified look Diluc had ever worn as he stared straight at his hand, barely moving and breathing.

When one of the maids finally caught sight of the two children, she'd found you crying in distress as you wailed 'I broke Diluc, I broke him!' while the boy himself stood and looked just the same as you'd seen him last, still staring at the disgusting grape in his hand.

The festivities started the next day with you not by his side.

Guests were already swarming in given that the night has started its period. Crepus made sure that all of the preparations are in accordance with the party, yet he knew just how distressed and frantic his son has been acting, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

He kneels in front of Diluc, finally getting his frenzied stares to settle on him. He offers a reassuring smile. "Are you looking for her?" Diluc was bashful in being caught but nodded regardless, earning a chuckle and a hand ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, she will come."

"But what if she doesn't?" His stubborn nerves replied still with uncertainty.

"You two promised to be together, no grape can easily break that," at the mention of the incident, his son gagged and whined at the reminder, causing another robust chuckle form in his throat. When Crepus has heard of the 'incident' that transpired yesterday, he had to stop himself from wheezing to comfort his own son.

At the better reminder Diluc found himself smiling again brought upon his faith on you and Crepus sighed in relief. That was when they heard a familiar voice shout from the distance.

Your little form broke through the crowd that had obscured your form, dressed up in a simple red chiffon dress and a massive white bow that holds as a belt. Crepus stepped to the side so you could approach the birthday boy yourself, presenting the red box in your hand with a trembling grip, you stood with nerve-wracking composure they've never seen you don before. "H-Happy birthday, Diluc! I uhm I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday, I really am! So I- so I bought you some gloves, so you'll never have to worry about your hands next time."

Crepus quirked an amused eyebrow at the 'next time' as he watches his son take upon the gift and opening it immediately, inside was a simple pair of white gloves with gold lines across its back and a pop button to keep it in place. When he fitted it, it was just the right size and fit his normal attire perfectly.

You watched him warily when you finally met eyes, opening your mouth to ask if he had liked it— when you were suddenly met by a hug, his fluffed up hair almost covering half of your hair. "Thank you, I like it. But you're late..." you laughed in relief as you squeezed him so tight, saying you were sorry with a giggle.

Diluc's father then watched on with a smile as the two of you held hands, disappearing in the sea of guests to mingle and admire the decorations they had put on for his birthday. At least, this time, he didn't have to worry that his son felt alone.

Your reckless imprudence and its adverse karma took a lot longer to manifest than anyone had expected. But it came with a paradoxical event both good and evil when you and Diluc were aged 10.

It was a rare occasion that it was Diluc who was visiting you (instead of the other way around) in Mondstadt's walled city. His father had the tavern to tend to that day and had entrusted Diluc's presence to you, the one who had been roaming the city for about two years now.

In your excitement and his cluelessness, you dragged your friend around the city for an impromptu tour guide. The cathedral, the statue, the HQ of Ordo Favonius; you exhausted him all the way as you somehow managed to find your way past the bridge and into the lush greenery of the outside of the walled city. He needed a breather, and you found the fresh air and quiet to be just the perfect spot.

The sound of rushing water in the distance helped as white noise for your relaxation, as you both stared up in the clear sky together, occasionally pointing at objectified clouds. At some point, Diluc had closed his eyes when the faint breeze urged him to rest more and he gave in just as easily.

The sound of your light musings grounded him just the same, together with the flowing stream and the distant pitter patter against the grass... pitter patter?

"DILUC, WATCH OUT-!" A force came bouldering against his side as he cried out in pain and shock, barreling against the grassland as he unceremoniously tumbles with the perpetrator. He snapped his eyes wide open and sat up quickly to look at what had come to your area—

And you laid there next to him, remnants of frost littering your clothes and climbing up your skin. As Diluc gathered you up in his arms, he felt the sting of the cold as he pulled your trembling form against his chest. At his peripheral he distinguished a few cryo slimes a few feet away, where he sees the dent on the grass he once laid on just moments prior.

"(Y/N)- (Y/N)! No, nonono stay with me, you're okay, please tell me you are," his body wracked in suppressed sobs as you desperately clung to his warmth. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pain as your teeth clatter and whimper from frostbite. He squeezed and pulled you closer up to his chest, desperately hoping the ice would melt before it engulfed you whole.

His gloved hands gripped at your back when he locked eyes with the slimes, watching them slowly advance to the both of you and he watched helplessly without any weapon at his arsenal to protect you two.

For the first time in his life, Diluc felt utterly useless and helpless at the face of looming death. And he prayed with eyes shut, to any Gods that spared him an ear, to give them divine intervention to help you two. To pray that there was something he can do, to pray that if only he was stronger—

And his world turned red around him.

Frost melted.

Grass charred.

Slimes dissipated.

In front of him a Vision was born.

...

A year and a half after that ordeal, you find yourself in the dimly lit hallways of Dawn Winery.

Diluc had expressed his intention to join the Knights of Favonius a day after he received his Vision, with a resolve you've never seen him wear before. He looked at you with longing yet courage of another promise, when you came to the same day. Ever since then, your visits became scarce and your play time had lessened, as you were left to watch him train in every hour of his day with either his father or one of the adept guards of the Winery.

You've never thought you'd wish to be able to wield a sword greatly to par that of a knight, if only to be trusted enough to wield the weapon against him in the guise of training. Ever since that incident everyone had treated you with utmost care and gentleness, even your dearest friend who had always gone along with your reckless spurs of action.

Today you were hoping to catch him on a day off from his sessions but it seems awfully quiet this time around and you were left to ponder with your thoughts as no one came to aid you with answers. You would press your ear against the numerous doors, linger to hear anyone, and then moved on to another if you come out empty-handed.

You were on your way to the last door of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You whipped your head in the thought that you had found your person of interest—

"What are you doing here?" But instead of the fiery red you were seeking for, you met a cold blue gaze that carried hidden hostility and confusion. You blinked at him as he did at you, an agonizing second passing with silence, and he opens his mouth once more to ask.

"I like your eyepatch!"

Somehow, you seem to have a knack on making people stutter on your first meetings.

Kaeya was no exception.

I didn't expect this to end with a cliffhanger holy shit, I loved writing this so much but I got caught up with so many other works and— it just became too long to continue...

Part 2 tomorrow midnight once again!

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[unchartedfates]

 ⸻     the keep welcomes you, HELAENA  TARGARYEN, the twenty  six year old princess of WESTEROS, it is rumored that you are known to be ADVENTUROUS and FREE SPIRITED according to the people in the  crownlands , but to many other around westeros, you are said to be HARD HEADED  and BIASED. ( dominique  davenport  +  CIS WOMAN +  SHE/HER )

the quick overview

another title making it so people think they know everything about her, just by hearing her name. helene has a nickname;   néné

helene princess is something one in a million, and for one with targaryen blood perhaps one in a billion, she has kindness. though her kindness did not come through until years later.

in her younger years  néné’s upbringing was that of any other princess that had come before her. she was awoken, rudely, from her slumber at what seemed like the crack of dawn to ready herself, mentally, and dress for the day ahead. those days were filled with lessons from math to geography to the different languages and then of course dancing and of course etiquette. and learning, or rather, memorizing for her came easily and she was able to prefect almost everything that was put in front of her. but her passion was in music and dancing. she barely had to think to play an instrument or dance around the ballroom

once her lessons were done the princess took a tour of the realm, from the most north point in the north to the outer most point of dorne. this was when she realized how large and diverse the land was. she had years of studies under her belt but actually seeing it all first hand? she often had headaches from realizing how much of a lie her studies were, first hand experiences outweighed life, and being in those moments. though she was grateful for those, allowing her to know how to act in those moments, what was correct and what was not. it was on these journeys that néné also learned the love of fashion of all the realms

when she returned to king’s landing néné put most of her time and effort into those around the red keep, volunteering at orphanages, and helping those in need. she wasn’t, isn’t, she what about this work called to her when she had never seen such behavior growing up, maybe it was her tour of the realm, and seeing so many lost or without. it wasn’t a feeling she liked to feel  

notable memories

a faint memory comes from childhood, she was about 8 or 9, and there’s flowers in her hand as she runs up a hilly meadow the win blowing in her hair. se doesn’t know the day, or even the field but rather the feeling of utter bliss

connection ideas

ladies in waiting

ride or die

penpal

friends who lost touch

people she met on her journey

[nyctophicbtch]

Halfbreed - Orm x Reader

[ Orm x reader ]

Part 2

Author's note: This took place in the events of the Aquaman movie. The reader is a princess and a halfbreed and was Orm's childhood best friend. I might add a part 2 to this.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,405

You hid behind the sunken ships in hopes that he wouldn't find you, but fate was cruel.

"Found you!" You jumped as Orm gently touched your shoulder. This was the fourth time you had lost to him.

"That's not fair." You whined and he laughed, swimming up above the cove of shipwrecks.

"Race you to the palace!" He shouted and swam away, making you groan and follow behind him.

He was teasing you so much that the both of you weren't careful and bumped into a few servants along the way.

"You two! That is no way for prince and princess to act." The lady who teaches you etiquettes scolded.

The both of you quickly apologized and once she's gone, you and Orm chuckled and made more mischief around the palace.

The memory played in your head for the past few minutes and you couldn't help but feel impatient to see Orm. You and Orm had been childhood best friends for years, until king Orvax decided that you, the half-breed, was a threat to Atlanteans and you should be banished from Atlantis.

Of course Orm never agreed with his father's decision, in fear that he would lose his bestfriend, but the people of Atlantis seemed to easily agree and in fact, some wanted you to be banished more than king Orvax himself did.

But now that the rumors spread that you're back after ten years, Orm wanted nothing more than to see you in person and demanded the guards to find you. However, he was faced with his half brother who dared to challenge him for the throne instead.

You shook away your thoughts and focused on the task at hand. You had been helping Arthur and Mera to try to stop Orm and his alliances from bringing war against the surface dwellers and destroying the land.

But then Arthur messed up by challenging Orm and from what Mera told you, Orm insulted him for being a halfbreed and Arthur replied with something along the lines of 'your childhood best friend is a halfbreed' and that pissed him off real bad.

You had somehow managed to sneak and blend in with the crowd in the ring of fire with a little help from Mera.

You pulled your hood farther to cover your face more, waiting impatiently and anxiously for the competition to start. You were mad at Arthur for his reckless actions towards Orm that could get him killed. However, you were also thankful that you get to see your childhood friend, even if you wouldn't admit it.

You knew you shouldn't be happy to see someone who was going to bring war against your home, but you couldn't help the feeling that was bubbling up inside you.

You pursed your lips as Orm burst through and revealed himself to the crowd, Arthur following afterwards and a round of 'boo's echoed through the crowd. Orm has grown up to be handsome and attractive. Stop. That. Focus.

As the fight carried on, you knew for sure that Arthur was going to get himself killed. You glanced at Mera and saw her gone. You pushed through the crowd of people, chasing after her. You looked around and finally saw Mera in her normal attire swimming towards her ship.

"Mera!" You grabbed her attention as she climbed into her ship.

"No, you need to go see Orm."

"What?! This wasn't the plan! I'm not staying here, I'm coming with you." You obligated and tried to climb into her ship.

"No, Orm wants to see you. I know I can't change his mind, but you might. He knows you're in Atlantis and asked the highborns and guards to look out for you." You stared at her dumbfounded as she started her ship.

"What?! Are you crazy?! He's gonna lock me up."

"No he won't!" She shouted, already heading towards the ring of fire to help Arthur.

You stood there for a few seconds. What were you supposed to do? She couldn't have expected you to just randomly show up at the palace could she?

Well, it didn't matter since you did it after the whole Mera and Arthur chase anyways. Word had gotten out that Orm had just gotten back from trying to stop Arthur and his betrothed.

You casually swam in front of the guards who were guarding the front gate and waved.

"Hey...?"

It took them a moment to process what was going on and grab your arm roughly, despite your complaints. They brought you to a room filled with armory and weapons, reporting you to a man who's back was faced to you.

He turned around at the sound of your name and you instantly recognized him. "Y/n?"

Vulko.

You were thankful as he motioned for the guards to release the painful grip they had on you. His face was masked with blankness, but you knew that he was happy to see you. He had been training you ever since you were banished to the surface.

"The king eagerly wants to see her as soon as possible. Take her to king Orm." Wait what? I thought we were gonna talk about this, come up with a plan or some sort. Maybe not.

The guards gripped your hand tightly and dragged you away, making you hiss in pain.

"And he wants the princess unharmed." Vulko said and the guards immediately loosened their grips. You shot a thankful look towards Vulko before the guards dragged you out and led you towards the throne room.

The guards addressed you before bringing you in. You struggled against their grip, claiming you can swim for yourself and they finally let you go once Orm signalled them to.

"Your majesty." You swam towards him and bowed. His expression softened as you met his gaze.

"There's no need for formalities. Call me Orm." You were surprised by his words, expecting to be questioned then imprisoned for returning to Atlantis.

"Leave us." He motioned to Vulko and the guards and they willingly obeyed. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Orm spoke.

"Why didn't you come back? After all these years, why now?"

He fixed his gaze on you and you could feel a lump forming in your throat. You hadn't been expecting him to say those words.

"I-I couldn't. Your father and–"

"Why didn't you come back after my father died? You knew he was gone, yet you didn't come back." He didn't even try to hide the disappointment laced in his voice.

"Atlantis hates me. For all I know, you might cage me up like an animal."

"You know I would never do that."

"You almost killed your brother–"

"He's not my brother." He stated firmly and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"You almost killed Arthur in that ring." You were sure that he knew you were watching. With all the commotion and rumors going on, he knew you would come to see it for yourself.

"I'm a halfbreed just like him, everyone hates me just as much. Even if you won't lock me up, how are you sure that the people of Atlantis won't go against that?"

He looked defeated and didn't even bother hiding nor denying it. "Then why now? You're with him aren't you?"

You didn't say anything. You didn't even try to deny the fact that you were helping Arthur and Mera to stop the war. To stop him.

"Bringing war against the surface won't do any good. There are innocent people up there, please don't do this." You pleaded and he sighed.

"You may stay here in the palace. I have already requested Vulko and the servants to prepare your room, but you won't change my mind about the war."

"And you're not going to change my mind about trying to stop the war." You stated, swimming away from Orm to get out of here when he grabbed your wrist.

"Please, stay." The powerful and feared king of Atlantis, begging you to not leave him again and looking as vulnerable as ever.

The both of you knew you wanted to stay. With him. You knew you loved him, and he cared for you too. But sometimes we have to do what's right, even if our heart aches against it.

"I'm sorry." And with that, you pulled your hand back, leaving the heartbroken king behind with a pained expression.

[destielharlequinchallenge]

The Destiel Harlequin Challenge Master Post: 2020 Mega Bang

Participants in the 2020 Destiel Harlequin Challenge completed an amazing 20 fics and 3 sets of artwork! You can learn all about those here!

Spectre (fic by a_dusky_gold, art by aceriee)

This whole thing… this was supposed to be a fucking farce. A way to keep Nicholas Vaught occupied until the deadline he’d given Dean would run out, and he’d still get the money to send Dad to the Town Hall rehabilitation for alcoholism, because that was the goddamned deal.

There were no such things as ghosts or magic or a Book of Life. Dean knows, okay? He wasn’t the Army’s goddamned Mystery Raider for nothin’; he knows history, he knows artifacts, and he knows that the Book of Life is an ancient myth that is about as real as werewolves or vampires.

And yet.

“The Book of Life,” the man had said. Dean can’t even remember his name.

Shit, shit, shit.

Dangerous Ground by Amethystaris

Special Agents for the Department of Diplomatic Security, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have been partners and best friends for three years, but everything changed the night Cas admitted the truth about his feelings for Dean. And when Cas was shot a few hours later, Dean felt his reluctance to get involved was vindicated.

Can a camping trip in the High Sierras save their partnership?

Honour Undressed by andimeantittosting

Among his friends, Castiel, Lord Milton is everyone’s confidant and, along with his trusted valet, the fixer of problems. But there is one secret Castiel has never shared: he is in love with his valet and has been for years.

Born in the gutters, Dean Winchester was assigned as Castiel’s batman in the war, and when Castiel travelled home to take up his title, Dean followed him as his valet. To assist Castiel, Dean is not above a little burglary or blackmail. But the one thing he wants for himself is Castiel’s heart.

When Castiel’s closest friends become the target of a blackmailer, certain truths come out. But while Dean determines to seduce Castiel, Castiel is adamant that he must resist, for if there is one rule a gentleman must follow, it is never to dally with his servant.

Havenport by BlueMasquerade

Castiel cleared space on his desk by the expedience of sweeping the previous contents to the side. He set the bundle down in the center of the surface and studied the knots in the rope before expertly untying them.

The book was old, its leather bindings cracked and crumbling. He carefully opened the cover to reveal the pages within, each hand cut, the edges beautifully deckled, the text written in pen and ink.

“This is written in ancient Enochian.” Castiel looked up, gaze narrowed. “Where did you obtain a book written in ancient Enochian?”

“Is that what it is? All I could tell is that it sure as hell isn’t English.” Mr. Winchester grinned, a dimple flashing in his cheek.

an aching in my heart by contemplativepancakes

When Dean’s best friend dies, leaving behind her daughter, Dean knows he has what it takes to give Claire the life she deserves. The problem is, they’re not related by blood, and Claire’s long lost uncle gets called to take her in. Castiel Novak was bad news when he was in highschool with Dean, and judging by his blue hair and tattoo sleeves, nothing’s changed. Castiel ran out on his family once before, and there’s no way Dean’s going to let that happen to Claire without putting up a fight.

Fools and Fate by Danica_Dust

Castiel Novak fled his coven to escape the rigid, predetermined Fate laid out for him within its confines. Desperate and alone, he took shelter in the city of Sacriloga, forsaking all magic and living off whatever he could steal. There, witches like Cas are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.

When Jack, a young witch also on the run from his own coven, seeks out Cas’ aid, however, Cas finds that he cannot reject the boy, leaving him to his sure destruction. Especially after the newest visitor to Sacriloga makes his presence known: the legendary Hunter, Dean Winchester, who has been following Jack’s trail.

Sworn to the Men of Letters, Hunters live by one principle: thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Dean’s path was never meant to cross with Cas', but a desperate stunt and a single mistake forces them into an impossible union—holy matrimony.

The war between the witches and the Men of Letters is an ancient one and Cas' most dangerous enemies bring a Fate worse than fire. Unable to ignore his growing feelings, yet powerless to change what he is, a choice must be made.

A suffocating Fate on one hand. A precarious freedom on the other. And in between, the kind of love that makes fools of us all.

Ozone by Deancebra

A young magic user who wants desperately to live. A jaded recluse who has forgotten what living means. They’re each other’s only chance.

Dean’s wild magic is killing him. The mage guilds have given up on him, and it’s only a matter of time before he dies in a spectacular, catastrophic bang. His only hope is an exiled wizard who lives in seclusion—and is rumored to have lost his mind.

The years alone on his hilltop estate have not been good for Castiel Novak. After the magical accident that disfigured him and nearly destroyed the village, he drifts through his days, a wraith trapped in memories and depression. Until a stricken young man collapses on his driveway, one who claims Castiel is his last chance. For the first time in fifteen years, Castiel must make a choice—leave this wild mage to his fate or take him in and try to teach him, which may kill them both. The old Castiel, brash and commanding, wouldn’t have hesitated. Castiel the exile isn’t sure he can find the energy to try.

A Demon Like Him by EllenOfOz

Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition.

His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects.

Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks.

Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.

A Working Relationship by fangirlingtodeath513

The homes that Castiel Novak designs for Angelic Houses are to die for. They’re pristine, perfectly designed and organized, and they’ve caused more than a few bidding wars. It’s the perfect job—he’s organized, good with math, and he’s able to pick up on design trends relatively quickly. The only thing that isn’t perfect? His obnoxious older brother, Luke. Castiel’s been vying for a position on a flipping team for years now, but Luke has never even considered it. When a lecherous gossip reporter overhears an argument, they receive an offer they can’t refuse.

They’re invited to compete on Flip Off, a competition where two people flip houses and compete for the highest profit. Castiel wants the leverage a win would bring him, but he also wants to prove himself. Enter Dean Winchester, a contractor with his own team and one that’s blissfully unconnected to Angelic Houses, allowing Castiel to prove himself without any help from the family company.

The undeniable attraction between them certainly doesn’t help matters, but Castiel is resolute in his decision to make a move only after they’ve finished working together. At least, that had been his plan until Dean made him an offer he simply couldn’t refuse.

Crashing In by followyourenergy

Castiel Novak is convinced he’s the last unwillingly single person in Lupine Cove. Even Gabriel, his perpetual bachelor brother, has found love. It’s probably because Cas leads the most boring life in existence. He’s a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.

Life certainly gets more interesting.

And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

Make Me Believe by GhoulsnHalos

Ten years ago, Castiel Novak’s stepfather disowned him, taking from him his place as hereditary heir to the head of the Hunter and Warrior Guild. Now, he’s a self-made, and celebrated, master gem and metal smith. Castiel doesn’t believe that the God’s decide your soulmate. Until he designs what can only be a gift fit for his soul mate, who in contradiction to the etiquette, if not the laws of Neffroen, must be a man.

Dean Winchester is convinced that he is a lowly, dumbass, no magic hunter who couldn’t possibly be on the same social scale as a Novak. So, why is it when he spots the jewelled torc in Castiel’s shop, Dean develops an obsession over the neckpiece and its creator? It can't be anything to do with the will of the Gods, no matter what anyone says, because that's baloney and Dean's not into men.

When Castiel’s long-lost brother turns up and suggests he ought to challenge their stepfather and that Dean is destined to help Castiel rule the clan, Castiel takes some convincing. The real problem is Dean. Can Castiel with the help of family and friends convince Dean of his place by Castiel’s side? Can Dean play the part everyone expects of him to help Castiel regain his rightful place in society?

Shielded Heart by JuniperJones

Arthos, the Infinite City, is a place of alien wonders and indescribable beauty—and, most importantly for Dean, it’s also halfway across the universe from his abusive ex-fiancé. He came to the city desperate for a fresh start, but he finds himself downtrodden on a world of aloof alien beings with little hope of finding his place—and a good chance of being kidnapped or killed before he can even settle in.

At least until he is saved by an irresistible alien with piercing eyes and a seductive smile.

Castiel is the living embodiment of temptation, and he makes no effort to disguise his desire for Dean. But when his past threatens to drag Dean into a dangerous underworld, Dean discovers Castiel isn’t who he claims to be. After enduring so much suffering, can Dean bear to take a leap of faith with this mysterious alien? Can he trust Castiel with not only his life, but his heart?

Stumble and Fall by Kitmistry

Castiel was raised to do one thing: serve his country, whether that was fighting a war or becoming an expert spy. But when his lover is charged with treason and executed Castiel defects. He has evidence that can destroy the KGB’s entire spy ring in New Mexico, he has names of scientists involved with atomic weapons who send information to the Soviets, and he won’t stop until he has revenge.

Putting all his trust in the Americans, Castiel finds himself under the protection of U.S. Marshal Dean Winchester, who is too cocky and attractive for his own good, but at least seems to know what he’s doing.

When a routine transfer to a safehouse goes horribly wrong, Castiel and Dean narrowly escape with their lives. With the Marshals compromised and Castiel being framed for murder, he and Dean are on the run from KGB and law enforcement alike. They have no one to trust except each other, and nowhere to go that their enemies can’t reach.

The Shots We Don’t Take by MandalaRose

Still nursing the tatters of a broken heart and trying desperately to stave off the terror of his impending graduation, college senior Cas Novak decides it’s time to blow off a little steam. Not just any hook-up will do, however. The last thing Cas needs right now is a distraction. On the lookout for someone he can enjoy a steamy night of passion with before leaving them behind entirely, Cas thinks he’s found exactly what he needs in cocky university hockey star and well-known playboy Dean Winchester.

Dean is gorgeous, doesn’t date, and is the singular most infuriating person Cas has ever met. He’s the perfect one night stand...that is, until Dean decides he wants an instant replay of what was supposed to be a one-time event. Will Cas’ offer of friends, sans benefits, convince the arrogant love ’em and leave ’em hockey defenseman to find an easier score? Or will Dean wear down Cas’ defenses and lure the sexy nerd in the dorky trenchcoat back to his bed?

Bullets Over the Bayou (fic by mattzerella_sticks, art by dontbelasagnax)

Everyone wants Castiel Novak to quit the force, including Castiel. But he stays on despite the toxic work environment he’s surrounded by. Still believing he can do some good despite the many lines of red tape impeding him. Luckily, a pair of scissors by the name of Dean Winchester drops into his hands, and he finally feels like he can do some good.

Dean Winchester thought he would be in New Orleans for a day or two. Identify the body of his deadbeat father and then move on. No one knows he’s here. His mother and brother are blissfully unaware of the danger his father roped him into. With a parting gift of a journal, delivered to him the same day he received word about his father, Dean has become the target of a group of people who want him dead. The same people who killed his father.

Racing against the clock, can Dean and Castiel figure out what is so important about John Winchester’s journal that someone would kill for it?

Masquerade by noxsoulmate

It had begun as such a good plan; one that benefitted them both. And masquerading as Castiel Krushnic's boyfriend during the weeks of balls, galas, and charity events certainly was no hardship. With the impending end of their arrangement, though, Dean Winchester must admit that behind the mask of an aloof CEO lies a man he could fall in love with. Or maybe, he already has…

The Medium by raths_kitten

Detective Dean Winchester hates it when his Chief sends a medium to consult on his cases. But this time, the murder is closely linked to Castiel’s world and they both need to work together to solve it.

Any Semblance of Touch (fic by saltnhalo, art by c-kaeru)

1925, New York.

Dean Winchester’s life’s work is protecting the world from the supernatural relics that could destroy it. When an amulet with the power to control the tides is shipped to New York, he must intercept it before it can be used to devastating effects. This time, in order to succeed, he needs a powerful psychometric… and the only one available has sworn off the magical world altogether.

Castiel Novak’s gift comes with great risk. To protect himself, he’s become a recluse, redirecting his magic into museum research. But with the city’s fate hanging in the balance, and faced with the power of Dean’s charm and persuasion…

He can’t force himself to say no.

The Love of a Righteous Man by SargentMom573

Five years ago, Captain Dean Winchester defied his father, Senator John Winchester. With his brother Sam, and his spaceship Impala, Dean found his place among a ragtag fleet of pirates and smugglers. Their latest mission left him with a price on his head and a scar on his heart. When a surprise attack separated him from Sam and revealed a Sith weapon, he would do whatever it took to bring his brother back – even sacrifice his own happiness.

After Emperor Michael’s death broke the psychic link between them, Emperor’s Hand Castiel Novak spent years drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a barrel. Mostly sober, three years ago he found a new purpose as the Impala’s Chief Medical Officer, and Sam Winchester’s guide in the Force. And a good friend in the Impala’s gruff but kind Captain.

Dean and Castiel must work together to bring Sam home alive. But when Castiel’s last mission is exposed, will Castiel complete it and destroy any hopes Dean had for a family? Will Dean forgive Cas’ horrific purpose before it is too late? And give them both what they really want — the love of a righteous man.

SKID by spnsmile

Dean Winchester swore off love after getting dumped and fired from his job the same day. Badly drunk, he ended up balcony-hopping until a pair of hands snatched him inside a darkened room. But it's no hero, it's someone with deep voice whispering threats with a gun pointed at his back. Dean’s too drunk to deal with life but one good look at his hot assailant plus enough beer sold him to his accursed fate. The next morning, he found himself engaged to the most notorious leader of a powerful clan, Castiel Novak.

Married life in the compound for a month was not as blissful so when he could, Dean fought for that freedom. Castiel relented and as Dean tried to put the pieces of his normal life together, getting a bike messenger job and dealing with pain in the ass clients, he now also needs to deal with the dangerous presence of his very jealous and very protective husband watching over him.

Is his life ever going to get back to normal?

[vodkassassin]

of skin and masterpieces

—

Peak Lord Shang is an old client of hers, one that San Xiu has worked with many times over the years — decades, actually.

One would not typically credit her to be among the population of immortal masters or long-lived practitioners of cultivation, simply because she isn’t actually a cultivator. And yet, San Xiu is going into her eighty-ninth year of life, still looking as if she’s only in her late twenties. Peak Lord Shang likes to comment dramatically on this, always telling her how she ages just like the finest of wines.

He always has been her favorite customer. And not just because of the flattery (Though, it does get him anywhere. And he knows it, too).

San Xiu is an artist, see. She knows what to look for to find the beauty in anything. Even in people. San Xiu knows a true masterpiece when she sees one. She knows what would make a perfect canvas for the most breathtaking paintings to ever grace the land, and she is unique about it, too.

San Xiu likes to be original. Her canvases come from what nature blesses her with, be it a full-scale landscape carved into the leftover healthy bark of a tree far past it’s lifetime, artful pastels glazed into ceramic baked from the clay straight out of the local riverbed, or even the soft and unblemished skin of one of the most powerful men this side of China.

That’s right. San Xiu considers Peak Lord Shang Qinghua to be her greatest masterpiece, of all the work of her entire career. He is exquisite, beautiful, miles and miles of soft and perfect canvas for her ink and her needles to paint all of her very best work into.

Peak Lord Shang Qinghua had come into San Xiu’s life when she was still only a teenager, just starting out in her chosen craft. Her parents had raised her correctly for a young miss, strictly tested on etiquette and drilled in the practices of the Six Arts. San Xiu had taken a liking to painting, when it had been shown to her as a little girl, and she had made it her own dream.

Her parents were proud of their daughter, a skilled artist. They might have been a little less proud and more scandalized, had they ever found out that San Xiu’s favorite canvas was the bare skin of a man.

Tattoos are a very contemporary art, viewed as lesser than painting and other mediums by some simply because they are only as long lived as the person they’re inked into, gone whenever the canvas dies. It’s one of the reasons why tattoo art isn’t taken as seriously. Another reason is because it is often very personal to the person whose skin bears it. In polite society, it’s not as if a person can take off their robes just to show off their tattoos. That would be such a scandal. Which is why, most of the time, paintings of the skin are not seen by anyone other than the artist and the canvas.

Not many artists tend to delve into tattooing for this very reason. Aside from the fact that it is far, far more difficult to master, mistakes cannot be discarded for a fresh canvas to try again. It is the medium of a perfectionist.

San Xiu had first encountered tattooing in an admittedly less-than savory establishment. An artist, she can’t remember the name of him now, had a parlour out of the back of a brothel. She honestly wouldn’t have been there in the first place, had she not heard the rumors and developed the gut feeling that she just had to track this artist down and see what exactly their work entailed.

She packed a few examples of her own work, rolled canvases slid into oiled tubes of leather that she strung over her back, and journeyed off into the night when her parents were occupied with some banquet or other that a lord a few towns over had been hosting.

That’s where she had first met Peak Lord Shang Qinghua.

He hadn’t been a peak lord then, not yet. He was, however, head disciple of a Cang Qiong Mountain Peak, which was already incredibly impressive. San Xiu can recall experiencing unfathomable awe and, even to this day, she had never really gotten over the feeling.

Truth to be told, Lord Shang’s power and standing wasn’t the only reason fifteen year old San Xiu had been so taken and impressed with him. It wasn’t even the biggest reason. No, the reason that Lord Shang had captured San Xiu’s attention, and had never lost it even in the decades after —

He's a masterpiece. Not even San Xiu’s, but a naturally occurring work of art. He’d been radiant and alluring even before San Xiu had ever dreamed of being allowed to put her hands on him.

She’d met him, head disciple Shang Fei, who would later become the much-lauded Master of Cang Qiong’s very own An Ding Peak, in an admittedly very shady tattoo artist’s workshop in the back of a brothel.

The artist had become jaded due to years of unappreciation for their art. It’s the biggest fear of any artist come to life. He had been on his last legs of his profession, all passion drained from him until he was sallow and indifferent to the world. He hadn’t even been interested in meeting with her, something that would have likely crushed a young San Xiu’s spirits by a significant amount if her fate hadn’t been written to lead someone else to her that night.

Shang Fei had held a faint look of disappointment on his face when she first saw him, stepping half into the door of the workshop. She had watched him as he surveyed the room and immediately seemed to realize that this wasn’t what he was looking for. She’d felt the same, herself, but had been struck speechless by the wave of sunset gold that tumbled down his back, shining a russet gold in the warm light of the fire lamps of the parlour. The top twirled neatly into a bun at the crown of his head, held together by two needles that gleamed their sharp danger when he tilted his face downward. The arch of his brow captivated her, the line of his jaw, the color of his eyes, the fold of his nondescript and yet obviously high-quality robes—

He’d looked like a painting of the most revered masters, come to life.

San Xiu knew instantly that she had to speak with him. He was a masterpiece, of the kind that an artist would spend their entire life in search of, and in that moment her most ardent wish was to show him her own. To have him gaze upon her paintings and give his verdict, one work of art judging his own kind.

It had been embarrassing in hindsight, but she’d stumbled up to him and asked if he’d go to a tea shop with her.

However mortifying her actions were, she is eternally glad that she had committed them.

Shang Fei had been so very taken with her paintings, perhaps just as taken as San Xiu was with his everything. He’d bought one off of her then and there, and they had spent three hours drinking tea in companionable conversation when he’d finally asked her what, exactly, she’d been doing in the back of the brothel.

Despite never having received the chance to interrogate the tattoo artist on his craft, San Xiu had still been able to catch a glimpse of his works, sitting sketched out and planned on his work table, and pinned to the walls of the shop. The gorgeous twists of the designs, the very real and tangible proof of a living art right in front of her — it had sparked a hunger in the center of San Xiu’s very being. So she told Shang Fei, she had approached the tattoo parlour because she wanted to join the practice herself.

Gods forbid her parents ever finding out.

Luckily, they never did.

Shang Fei had been even more interested in this bit of information than he had even over the painting he’d purchased. He’d told her she had a gift. That she had talent. That, if she learned the right methods and had the right materials and opportunities, he knew that she could become the best.

Such flattery, even back then. Lord Shang is a master of it. San Xiu still blushes, faintly, when she thinks of that night in the tea shop.

That might be, of course, because of the next thing that Shang Fei had said to her. He had reached across the table, taken her hand in his, looked her in the eye, and offered his body to her with all the seriousness of a man proposing marriage.

Oh, San Xiu had nearly died that night.

Shang Fei himself had seemed to immediately realize, as well, that his words could possibly be misconstrued. He’d turned a little pink in the face, a lovely color splashing lightly over his cheeks, and had quickly amended his offer, saying that he would make a good canvas for San Xiu to practice on until she masters the skills she yearns for.

Shang Fei, he said, was a cultivator well beyond his core formation. Any mistakes she made, he could remove himself and heal over so that it was like they’d never even existed.

And then, he said, “Wouldn’t it make it easier, if you knew some cultivation yourself?”

San Xiu had left for home again in the very early morning, a permanent correspondence address for An Ding peak tucked privately away into her robes, and head held high in excitement as the very first disciple of Peak Lord Shang Qinghua.

Of course, seeing as how he wasn’t actually Peak Lord yet, or even Qinghua, no one could ever know.

That was fine with San Xiu. She had no interest in joining a sect and training for a soulsword.

She is an artist.

Years have passed, rolling into decades. Shang Fei met her secretly, in the time between his duties as head disciple — and other obligations over which he was much more secretive about — as if it were some sort of affair, and San Xiu would work on his skin.

He’d been correct. He was the perfect canvas. Soft, supple, clear and pale. A pure expanse of unblemished emptiness for her to practice on. And, one day, she was promised the sole right to permanently leave her mark on that canvas, as soon as her skills met both of their standards.

By the time Shang Qinghua ascended into his position as Peak Lord, San Xiu met that standard. In celebration for both their achievements, Shang Fei (now Qinghua) and San Xiu had sat down together and planned out the first of San Xiu’s best works.

It winds gorgeously around his forearm, a beautiful Phoenix of gold and red pigments, of which she’d likely never have been able to acquire if not for Shang Qinghua’s benefaction. It’s wings bound to its body by a thorny vine, a rose clutched in its talons, tail feathers curled elegantly to end on the back of his hand. She has never been more proud of anything else in her life.

Decades followed, new masterpieces joining the phoenix on Peak Lord Shang’s flesh. Each and every one turns out breathtakingly gorgeous, almost as if they are made twice more beautiful than they would have otherwise, just for his skin being their canvas. As if Shang Qinghua blesses them, being a natural vision of true art himself, and makes it more.

San Xiu is an artist. And Shang Qinghua is her most beloved life’s work.

[cardest]

Tennessee playlist

I’m going to Memphis! This is the mighty Tennessee - Memphis & Nashville playlist. You can’t tell the story of rock n roll without mentioning Memphis. Mississippi and Nashville, such a great history of music in this region. Chuck D hits things off with the ultimate introduction. Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

This playlist has it all. Soul, blues and rock n roll. We take a journey back to the beginning of country as well, with Nashville and finish up at Dollywood. Hope you dig it.

Tennessee - Mississippi - Arkansas

001 Henry Rollins & Chuck D - Rise Above 002 Clutch -  Devil & Me 003 Paul Simon - Graceland 004 Isaac Hayes - Memphis Trax 005 Scott Walker - Thats How I Got to Memphis 006 AC/DC - let there be rock 007 Johnny Cash -  Country Boy 008 Chuck Berry -  Back To Memphis 009 Jay Reatard - Gree, Money, Useless Children 010 Lukah - Black Dragon 011 King Curtis - Memphis Soul Stew 012 Rosetta Howard & the Harlem Hamfats - Delta Bound 013 Nots - In Glass 014 Pere Ubu - Memphis 015 Loretta Lynn - The Pill 016 Howlin Wolf - Smokestack Lightnin 017 Rory Gallagher - The Mississippi Sheiks 018 Crime and the City Solution - Streets Of West Memphis 019 River City Tanlines - Met You Before 020 Johnny Cash - Going To Memphis 021 Al Green - Get Back Baby 022 Kim Salmon & The Surrealists - The Zipper 023 Booker T & the MG - Melting Pot 024 Pussycat - Mississippi 025 Boswell Sisters - Roll On, Mississippi, Roll On 026 Aretha Franklin   - Muddy Water 027 The Cramps - Garbageman 028 HASH REDACTOR - Good Sense 029 Optic Sink - Personified 030 Angry Angles - Blockhead 031 Big Star - Thirteen 032 Memphis Jug Band -  Going Back to Memphis 033 North Mississippi AllStars - K.C. Jones (On The Road Again) 034 Bass Drum Of Death -  Bad Reputation 035 Today Is the Day -  The Devil's Blood 036 Walk the Line Soundtrack- Get Rhythm 037 Jack White -  Temporary Ground 038 Jerry Lee Lewis - A Damn Good Country Song 039 The Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Rumors 040 Saving Abel - Pine Mountain (The Dance of the Poor Proud Man) 041 The Oxford Circle - Foolish Woman 042 Bobbie Gentry - Greyhound Goin' Somewhere 043 Reigning Sound - A Little More Time 044 NINA SIMONE - MISSISSIPPI GODDAM! 045 Laurie Anderson - Hiawatha 046 Glen Campbell - Burning Bridges 047 Dolly Parton - Hillbilly Willy 048 Elvis Presley - Guitar Man 049 Blue Oyster Cult - Divine Wind 050 Sammy Hagar - Halfway To Memphis 051 Izzy Stradlin   - Memphis                       052 Johnny Cash -  Run Softly, Blue River 053 Iron Horse - Unchained 054 The Cramps - Human Fly 055 Faces - Memphis 056 Jack Oblivian - Rat City 057 The Cooters - Bustin' Loose 058 Mott the Hoople - All The Way From Memphis 059 Dusty Springfield -  Breakfast in Bed 060 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Tupelo 061 Chicago - Blues In The Night             062 Crossin Dixon - Guitar Slinger 063 Strummin' With The Devil - And the Cradle Will Rock 064 Stray Cats -  Can't Go Back to Memphis 065 Elvis Presley - Suspicious Minds 066 Suzi Quatro - Can't Trust Love 067 Lost Sounds - There's Nothing   068 Ike & Tina Turner ~ River Deep, Mountain High 069 Neil Diamond - Memphis Flyer 070 Julien Baker - hardline 071 The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Memphis Soul Typecast 072 Isaac Hayes  - Groove-A-Thon 073 Otis Clay - Trying To Live My Life Without You 074 Tim McGraw - Don't Mention Memphis 075 Eric Burdon & War - Blues For Memphis Slim 076 Homemade Jamz Blues Band - Blues Train 077 Sweet Knives - I DON'T WANNA DIE 078 Cream - Four Until Late 079 Grateful Dead - Golden Road 080 Huey Lewis and the  NEWS - Function At The Junction 081 The Cramps - I Was A Teenage Werewolf 082 Jesse Winchester_ The Brand New Tennessee Waltz 083 Dorsey Burnette - Tall Oak Tree 084 Field Music - Time In Joy 085 Jay Reatard -  Blood Visions 086 The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Women 087 Quintron & Miss Pussycat  - Block the comet 088 Al Green - Let's Stay Together 089 The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives 090 Johnny Cash -  Tennessee Flat Top Box 091 Robert Pete Williams & Robert “Guitar" J. Welch - Mississippi Heavy Water Blues 092 MARY JAMES - MAKE THE DEVIL LEAVE ME ALONE 093 Ministry - Mississippi Queen 094 U.S. Bombs - Rocks in Memphis 095 Nazareth - Jet Lag 096 The Bar-Kays - Holy Ghost 097 Ty Segall - Despoiler Of Cadaver 098 His Hero Is Gone - Like Weeds 099 Jerry Lee Lewis - Memphis Beat 100 Generation X =  King Rocker 101 The Doobie Brothers - Wild Ride 102 Bad Company - Whiskey Bottle 103 Black Stone Cherry - When The Weight Comes Down 104 Buddy Miles - Memphis Train 105 Memphis Slim - Rockin' The House (Beer Drinkin' Woman) 106 David Clayton Thomas  - Wish The World Would Come to Memphis 107 Lost Sounds - Better Than Somethings 108 Alice Cooper - Ubangi Stomp 109 Tom Waits -  Don't Go Into The Barn 110 Hank Snow - Music Makin' Mama From Memphis 111 Phil Ochs - Heres to the State of Misssippi 112 Reigning Sound  - Your Love Is A Fine Thing 113 Pixies -  Letter to Memphis 114 Bob Dylan - Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again 115 The Colorblind James Experience - Considering A Move To Memphis 116 B.B.King - Rock Me Baby 117 Carla Thomas - B-A-B-Y 118 Aquarian Blood - A Love That Leads To War 119 Nights Like These - Scavenger's Daughter 120 Rufus Thomas - Walking the Dog 121 Clutch -  The House That Peterbilt 122 Lyal Strickland - O Arkansas 123 Don Bryant - How Do I Get There 124 The Sensational Barnes Brothers - Trying To Go Home 125 Squirrel Nut Zippers - Memphis Exorcism 126 Faster Pussycat - Tattoo 127 The Rolling Stones - Memphis Tennessee 128 Alcatrazz -  Sons And Lovers 129 Evil Army - Violence And War 130 Deep Purple - Somebody Stole My Guitar (Purpendicular 11) 131 Dwight Yoakam - Guitars, Cadillacs 132 UFO - Natural Thing 133 Thunderbridge Bluegrass Boys - Tennessee 134 Confederate Railroad - Queen of Memphis 135 The Box Tops - The Letter 136 Jerry Lee Lewis - Night Train To Memphis 137 Reverend John Wilkins - Trouble 138 Phil Lynott - Kings Call (feat. Mark Knopfler) 139 Old Crow Medicine Show - Motel in Memphis 140 Candy Lee- Here in Arkansas 141 Pharoah Sanders - You've Got To Have Freedom 142 Molly Hatchet - Mississippi Moon Dog 143 Rwake - Crooked Rivers 144 CARL PERKINS & PAUL SIMON - A Mile Out Of Memphis 145 Eddie Floyd - Knock On Wood 146 Al Green - Talk to me 147 Mush - Eat the Etiquette 148 PJ Harvey - Memphis 149 EX-CULT  - Clinical Study 150 Isaac Hayes  - Mans Temptation 151 Lil’ Jon & Eastside Boyz - Rep Yo City 152 Rufus Wainwright - Memphis Skyline 153 Stray Cats - 18 Miles to Memphis 154 Amasa Hines - Earth and Sky 155 Joe Henderson -  Back Road 156 Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash - Memphis Woman 157 Norma Jean - Memphis Will Be Laid To Waste 158 Fess Parker - Ballad of Davy Crockett 159 Assjack -  Redneck Ride 160 Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth - Social Lube 161 The Replacements - Alex Chilton 162 Ann Peebles - The handwriting is on the wall 163 The Highwaymen -  Big River 164 The Cult - Memphis Hip Shake 165 STEVE EARLE -  Hillbilly Highway 166 The BO-KEYS featuring OTIS CLAY -Got To Get Back 167 Rush - Tom Sawyer 168 Class Of '55: Memphis Rock & Roll Homecoming - Birth Of Rock And Roll 169 Hank Williams Jr - Memphis Belle 170 Sam Moore & Dave Prater - Soul Man 171 Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark - Bloc Bloc Bloc 172 Kenny Rogers & The First Edition  - Just Dropped In 173 Linda Heck - pictures of dead people 174 Carla Thomas - Sugar 175 Three Mafia 6 - Mystic Stylez 176 Osborne Brothers- Rocky Top 177 The Beverly Hillbillies Theme Song 178 Wilson Pickett - Barefootin' 179 Dolly Parton - Jolene 180 Charlie Daniels - long haired country boy 181 The Civil Wars - From This Valley 182 Jill Jack - Gettin' On In Memphis (The Elvis Song) 183 Huckleberry Finn and His Friends - Opening title 184 Dead Cross -  Skin of a Redneck 185 Johnny Cash - I Never Picked Cotton 186 Old Crow Medicine Show -  Wagon Wheel 187 Isaac Hayes  - That love feeling 188 Aretha Franklin - I say a little prayer 189 Little Milton - What Do You Do When You Love Somebody 190 Howlin' Wolf - Spoonful 191 Weird Al" Yankovic - Money For Nothing / Beverly Hillbillies 192 The Oblivians - I'll Be Gone 193 OT Sykes - Stone crush on you 194 The Mad Lads  - Come closer to me 195 The Box Tops - Choo Choo train 196 Bobby Blue Bland - dreamer 197 Wanda Jackson - Rip It Up 198 Junior Parker - Love Ain't Nothin' but a Business Goin' On 199 The Nightingales ft. Tommy Tate - Just a Little Overcome 200  The Louvin Brothers - Satan is real 201 Overture "Big River" - (1985 Original Broadway Cast) 202 Ike & Tina Turner - Shake 203 Playa Fly - fly shit 204 Adia Victoria - Different Kind Of Love 205 Grateful Dead - Tennessee Jed 206 Red Hot Chili Peppers - Backwoods 207 Otis Redding - Tennessee Waltz 208 Nashville Pussy - The Late Great USA 209 The Paperhead - The true poet 210 Tomahawk - South Paw 211 Night Beats - Her Cold Cold Heart 212 Forest of Tygers - human monster 213 LOSS - All Grows on Tears 214 Charlie McCoy - Wayfaring Stranger 215 Dick Stusso - Modern Music 216 Eddie Noack - Aint the Reaping Ever Done 217 Jason & the Scorchers - Greetings From Nashville   218 Jasmin Kaset and Quichenight - A Single Right Word 219  Gospel Keynotes - Give Me My Flowers 220   WEEN - Scrape the Mucus off My Brain 221 Shannon Shaw - Broke My Own 222 The Jesus Lizard - Blue Shot 223 Eddy Arnold    - Tennessee Stud 224 Clutch - Pure Rock Fury 225 Today Is The Day -  Who Is The Black Angel? 226 Hank Williams Jnr - Tennessee River 227 The Dead Weather -  Bone House 228  Every Mother's Nightmare - Long Haired Country Boy 229 Motley Crue - She goes down 230 Waylon Jennings - Tennessee 231 Dolly Parton - Down On Music Row 232 Jello Biafra & Mojo Nixon - Lets Go Burn Ole Nashville Down 233 The Byrds - Nashville West 234 Sharon Van Etten - Every Time the Sun Comes Up 235 Bill Anderson ~ More Than A Bedroom Thing 236 Dottie West - Route 65 To Nashville 237 Intruder - The Martyr 238 Johnny Cash - Smiling Bill McCall 239 Lynard Skynyrd - Workin For MCA 240 The Everly Brothers  - Nashville Blues 241 Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - Elusive Dreams 242 Nashville Bluegrass Band - Im Gonna Love You 243 Ringo Starr - No-No Song 244 Hank Williams - Hey, Good Lookin' 245 The Lovin Spoonful - Nashville Cats 246 They Might Be Giants - James K. Polk 247 Commander Cody  -  Back To Tennessee 248 Wanda Jackson - Shakin' All Over 249 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Grand Ole Opry Song 250 Tomahawk - Flashback 251 Megadeth -  Dystopia 252 Dolly Parton -  Train, Train 253 The Clovers - One Mint Julep 254 Trampled By Turtles - Whiskey 255 Tom T. Hall - Nashville is a Groovy Little Town 256 Muddy Waters - I am the blues 257 Foo Fighters - Congregation 258 Pavement - Strings Of Nashville 259 Joe Ely - Tennessees Not The State Im In 260 Waylon Jennings - Nashville Bum 261 The Charmels - As Long As I Got You 262 Eve Maret - Do my thing 263 SABATON - 82nd All the Way 264 Halfway To Hazard - Welcome To Nashville 265 Nashville Pussy - Go Motherfucker Go 266 Indigo Girls - Nashville 267 Snarls - Walk In The Woods 268 Steeler - Cold Day in Hell 269 Strummin' With The Devil  - Jamies Cryin' 270 spazz gummo love theme 271 The Cramps - Cornfed Dames 272 Saxon -  Solid Ball Of Rock 273 Al Green - Tired of Being Alone 274 Soul Friction - It's Out Of My Hands 275 Today Is the Day - Wheelin' 276 Jackie Lynn - Odessa 277 The Jesus Lizard - Nub 278 Bully - Where To Start 279 Sonny Boy Williamson II - Lonesome Cabin 280 Tomahawk - God hates a coward 281 The Louvin Brothers - Knoxville Girl 282 Tom Waits - Jitterbug Boys 283 The Evil Dead Soundtrack  - Bridge Out 284 Wanda Jackson - Thunder On The Mountain 285 Elvis Presley - Where Do I Go From Here 286 Booker T & the MGs - Back Home 287 Ezra Furman & the Harpoons - American Highway 288 Joe Ely - dream camera 289 Assjack - Tennessee Driver 290 Nashville Pussy  - We Want A War 291 Dwight Yoakam - A Thousand Miles From Nowhere 292 Hank Williams, Jr. - Knoxville Courthouse Blues 293 ZZ Top - My Head's in Mississippi 294 Nitty Gritty Dirt Band -  Honky Tonkin' 295 Dead Weather - Die by the Drop 296 The Black Belles - What can I do 297 Dolly Parton  - Cowgirl And The Dandy 298 The Secret Sisters  - I've Got a Feeling 299 Justin Townes Earle - Aint Got No Money 300 Tomahawk - M.E.A.T 301 Jex Thoth - The Places You Walk 302 Bill Carter - Road To Nowhere 303 Bill Dees (Roy Orbison back vocals) - Tennesse Owns My Soul 304 Karen Elson  - The Ghost Who Walks 305 The Who - Whiskey Man 306 Hank Williams III - Crazed Country Rebel 307 The Lost Sounds - I Get Nervous 308 Big Star - September Gurls 309 ZZ Top - Whiskey n Mama 310 Johnny Cash - God's Gonna Cut You Down 666 Isaac Hayes - Hyperbolicsyllablecsesquedalymistic

Hit play: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC1_X9nesbW37-9FNLiJWOQ1f

[pokemonswshbutionlyplayedsword]

What if the gym leaders +marnie&bede were pirates?

I absolutely love this. Like, a few weeks or so out of every year I go into Pirate Mode where that’s all I can think about. Gimme those sea shanties, lads.

Milo would not make a very good pirate, tbh. He’s strong, yeah, but he’s a landlubber for sure. He could be pretty useful in some cases, but he does best on solid ground. Maybe he works at a port or something. Unless Captain Nessa drags him onto her ship. Then he’s just stuck there as a voice of reason.

Nessa? Main pirate gal. Her ship is named The Medusa. She lives for the sea life. She’s the most feared pirate in the seven seas. She’s often underestimated but when she’s sailing away with your fancy ship and all your gold you’ll be sorry.

Kabu is a pretty good pirate. He’s more of a sailor that just ended up getting roped into pirate shit. Like, oops, he really isn’t a huge fan of the sea but either he plunders or walks the plank and he actually kinda likes his pirate crew so he knows what is answer is. Honestly, probably part of Nessa’s crew tbh.

Bea is an excellent pirate. Very intimidating. Her ship is The Vengence. Watertight hold on her crew. She’s the captain for sure. (draw Bea in pirate clothes or I’ll sue you.) Either you’re with her or against her and she shows no mercy. She’s not one for stealing gold, really, unless it benefits people who need her help. Like, technically, yes she’s a pirate, but she mostly just helps small, poor places that need someone strong to get rid of whatever’s causing the problem.

Allister is in Bea’s crew. He doesn’t do much, unless he’s needed. Often found chillin’ in the crow’s nest. Sometimes says something about ghosts in the water that makes the entire crew uncomfortable, but Captain Bea said he stays, so he stays. Very powerful secret weapon, though. Allister quit summoning Cthulu so close to the ship.

Opal is a retired pirate. Extremely feared in her day, and legends and songs are still told of her. Other pirates seek her out when they need help. She’s still sailing on the open seas, but she doesn’t do much pirate-y stuff anymore. If you see her ship The Majesty either you’re saved or you’re about to die.

Melony is the captain of her ship as well. Though, she’s not as ruthless as the other pirate captains, tbh. She just sails around and does her thing. Slams someone right into Davy Jones’ locker if they get too close to her, but her and the crew of Blizzard are doing just fine.

Gordie is Melony’s second in command (forgot the name for them), and he can’t wait to change the name when Melony makes him the new captain because she’s getting sick of babysitting her crew. He plans on renaming it Rockslide and being the most feared pirate in the world.

Piers is absolutely a feral pirate captain. Like, all he does is cause problems for fun. He has absolutely nothing better to do. Claims to have scurvy every other week. His ship, The Siren is full of a bunch of people who just barely don’t classify as criminals. Despite their chaos, they’re friends with the rest of the well known pirates (gym leaders), and they’re always called on when help is needed. Many people think Captain Piers is insane.

Raihan is the captain of The Dragon Wing (I stole that from the Eragon series leave me alone). He’s very close to being the most notorious pirate in the world, but he’s always thwarted by Captain Leon. He’s hunting the man down Tom and Jerry style just to try and get the jump on him. They’re actually close, surprisingly, but that doesn’t stop Raihan from trying to sink Leon’s ship all the time.

Leon is the captain of his ship, of course. He sails on a ship (larger and more extravagant than any other pirate ship named here) named Glory. He is the most powerful and well-known pirate. It used to be Opal but he usurped her after a particularly nasty battle at the Spikemuth Archipelago (yes, I’m changing the geography of Galar for my own personal enjoyment.) 

Marnie is a high ranking crewmember on The Siren. She knows her brother, Captain Piers, is nothing but a chaotic bastard, but she encourages him because it beats the horrible boarding school she was almost sent to when she was little, before he long-lost brother showed up and basically kidnapped her. (I already have a whole story for them please ask.) Encourages the rumors that he’s literally unhinged.

Bede was kidnapped by Captain Opal. Currently learning how to be a pirate, as he is expected to take command of The Majesty. Opal wants to hand it off. She loves the sea, but she’s ready to settle down on solid land and live out her life in peace. Bede is struggling to unlearn the etiquette he learned while living in high society.

[strazem]

I noticed that I’ve been getting blocked by a lot of Ososan artists lately and... At this point I’m sure it’s because of bad rumors and misinfo getting spread about me in discord servers. I’m going to put a lot of this under a readmore because I don’t want to clog people’s dashes with this, but I really want to clear the air here as I feel like there are a lot of things being left out of the narratives people are telling about me, and also the fact this is still happening and has been for four-five years, isolating me from a lot of the ososan community and hurting me in a very deep way...

Now, first off, I’m not here to say that over the past 4-5 years I wasn’t immature and childish. There were many times where I was, even to the point the behaviors could be seen as abusive or toxic even if that wasn’t the intention. I was in my early to mid 20s and had serious issues with oversharing my thoughts and feelings with people I really only knew casually, usually to the point of making them uncomfortable. I would also use all caps a lot, not really realizing the effect it had on people, making others feel like they were being shouted at. I would also act immaturely when I saw that other roleplay blogs were getting more attention than mine, even though the ones I had were for OCs, which meant that of course canon characters would get more traction.

Again, I was very young and not very socially developed. I am by no means trying to use my autism as an excuse, but rather an explanation.

Prior to getting into Ososan around 2016, I did not have any “real life” friends, that is, friends I knew in person. I did not know anyone my age and socializing was, and still is pretty limited to just my immediate family. Almost all of my interactions were online, and even that I struggled with. I had recently gotten out of an abusive relationship as well, and was just starting college. I did not think about how others felt enough and was too concerned with saying my piece and sharing my own opinions, making everything about me or about how I felt, and less about the other person. Again, this is something I’ve struggled with for most of my life as part of my ASD, but I’m still not excusing it by any means, especially considering the fact that other people ended up hurt.

I think the main issue was how immature and self-focused I was if I’m being honest, and how I would tend to make everything about me and how I felt and what I made.

My intentions were always good, that never changed. But as people have stated to me before, good intentions don’t mean anything if the outcome is bad. My immaturity really ended up hurting a lot of other people’s feelings and causing a lot of resentment, and I am by no means saying that anyone has to forgive me or be “ok” with me.

What I do wish though is that perhaps people who I have had struggles with in the past could refrain from spreading biased opinions of me to people who have never even met me. I understand wanting to support your friends, and I also understand that when someone you know tells you someone is “bad news”, it’s natural to take their word for it, especially if they only show screenshots of me at my lowest rather than when I was trying my absolute best to be a good friend, despite my immaturity.

However, I’ll be honest and say that I do think that this behavior in general seems counterproductive and perhaps even concerning... If there’s someone that upset me in my past, I don’t tell others or divulge about them to new people I meet unless I felt they did something actually illegal. I remember misinforming about someone in the ososan community based on false claims and I still feel guilty about it to this day, so I’ve also been guilty of this in the past. It’s also important to keep in mind that if someone is really making someone out to sound terrible or horrible that there is usually a bias clouding their perception. I've sat and reflected a lot on my own biases these past five years in therapy, and at the end of the day, I don’t think most people have bad intentions, at least not lonely kids in a small fandom. I think it’s a lot of miscommunication, lack of confrontation, and fear rather than any malicious intent.

Because if there’s one thing I know that I’m not, it’s a manipulator. I straight up do not have the social intelligence for that. I would all caps, I would get upset and leave chats and worry people, I would go on rants that people couldn’t talk me down from, or get too emotionally volatile, or put my own emotional issues onto other people by panicking and venting and putting on a scary and upsetting scene, but I never tried to manipulate anyone or turn anyone’s friends against them. The only two instances I can think of that even come close to me “warning” anyone about someone (and not for blm*tsu related reasons) happened in 2018 and 2019, well after all of this was (I assumed) done with. 

Most of my issues that people have gotten upset with me for was regarding my social immaturity, self-centeredness, altercations, public panic attacks, public mental breakdowns and a tendency to go off on emotional and heated rants, especially in public areas and in public chats. That’s why this thing about me being a manipulator seems misinformed to me, because I’ve never been great at DMing or talking to others one on one, I think anyone that’s known me will agree. Many of these altercations happened in public group chats.

I’m assuming that many of the bad rumors being spread about me are regarding my skype days back in 2016-2017, back before discord became the new norm for online chatting and servers and such, as well as a very specific “drama” that happened on anti-bl oso-twitter concerning people that had met in an osomatsu-san kin discord server (which I was not in or even knew about). 

Essentially, I befriended some of these people on twitter through people that had been in my second skype roleplay group (the first one I made was in 2016 I believe). I was unaware of any previous dramas or issues and was even unaware that said “person of interest” was even upset with me or thought I was toxic or bad. I had figured we had just stopped talking due to naturally drifting apart. Of course, in my young and naive mind, before understanding “social media etiquette” I went to go ask them why they had blocked me on twitter (I had started being active on twitter during that time.)

And of course, in my immaturity, was freaking out and panicking about having been blocked by someone I thought was a friend to people in my second roleplay group chat... As always... Ugh.. It wasn’t anything malicious though, just confusion and me being scared I had done something wrong.

One member in the roleplay group though, who I guess was a member of the osomatsu-san kin discord, started going off about said “person of interest”, claiming they had gotten their friend into a car accident and that they had groomed minors. Another person in the roleplay group felt the allegations were crazy and unfounded and left. Meanwhile, I was just lost as to what was even happening, I wasn’t aware these people were this connected or knew each other and admittedly, did a pretty poor job as a mod/admin that I didn’t stop the discussions sooner.

I have no idea if the claims were true or not, I imagine they were exaggerated due to bias, I have no idea, but then the same person who had made those claims showed me screenshots that “person of interest” sent to their mutual friend about me. How I was scary and toxic, that I had upset lots of people.. That they were panicking that I even contacted them on tumblr with a friendly “hello!”

Naturally, I responded with confusion. Again, my autism makes it very difficult for me to realize when people are upset or frustrated with me, especially over text. At the time, I couldn’t think of anything I had done to upset them and was very hurt and confused, as our last actual interaction had been seemingly positive. 

I did not try to turn anyone against them though. Here’s what actually happened: After being given this info, I also learned that there was a small discord group of the friend group that the person making the claims was from. I joined it hoping to learn more or get some sort of clarification only to find out that this entire group was very upset with “person of interest”. Like very upset. They made claims that this person lied, that this person liked to play victim as a way to manipulate others, that they had groomed two of the people in the group, that they had said unsettling things, that they would do strange and backhanded things ect. Again, I don’t know if these statements are true and I’m not trying to claim they are, I just know that this group of friends had been very upset with "person of interest” before I had even come into the picture. They were already planning on cutting them off!

I did not sway anyone or say anything, I was literally just there in the hopes of finding out if I’d done something wrong. 

Of course, this doesn’t at all excuse when I was still friends with “person of interest” and subjected them to my barrage of emotional baggage and panic attacks. I just want to make it clear that I never sent anyone after them or tried to turn their friends against them. In fact, I even tried to help them when they came to my twitter DMs asking me for help. I was already incredibly scared of pissing anyone off in general, and tried to keep things peaceful on both sides. When I asked the second roleplay group if they’d be okay with them rejoining, it was a unanimous “no”... I distinctly remember offering to still roleplay with them one on one and to make a new group that they could be in (and this was even after I had been shown the screenshots of them calling me toxic, which I still wasn’t holding against them!), but the offer was turned down.

I’ve noticed this very distinct pattern over the years of me running into a lot of issues due to miscommunication as well. It was very rare that people would express with me how they were feeling, or when they did, it was usually during one of my panic attacks, which were often bad enough that my brain would repress the memories of what happened during them the second they stopped, and it was rare that I would actually go back and read the things I said. People have had a very easy time going to others and complaining or venting about me to friends, but have had a very hard time actually telling me these complaints themselves, as themselves. I don’t really blame them, as we were all pretty young and given how much I freaked out publicly, it would make sense to be scared of how I might react. Not to mention there were probably things in their own pasts that made something like confrontation difficult. However, what I don’t understand is why this would still be happening five years later... I would assume by this point people would have moved on, especially regarding spats within fandoms.

I hold no ill will towards people in my past who’ve gotten upset with me, I do not hold grudges, and for the most part, if someone wants to cut contact with me, I just accept it and move on. But now that I’m noticing that these false claims are being spread around to other people in the fandom, people who weren’t even involved in these situations, blocking me based off of... Stuff they’ve heard about me... I felt a need to say something.

Honestly, my biggest wish or hope is that, given that it has been five or so years, that people who have never spoken to me or met me before maybe give me another chance? If I have personally hurt you, I don’t want you to feel the need to reach some sort of conclusion with me, or forgive me, or whatever...

But at the very least, perhaps people could be more careful when sharing personal issues we went through with other people, people who know very little about me and who I am and only know me through the lenses and narratives of people who felt slighted by me.

I have changed immensely over the past five years, more than I can even describe. I am not the same person mentally that I was, I have had therapy, I have had help, I have reflected, I have become more sensitive to other people’s thoughts and feelings. I even managed to help a friend of mine get therapy! I was not perfect, I behaved irrationally, but I do think it’s important to drive home the fact that it has been a few years and that I’ve made a lot of progress and that as I’m nearing 30, I have mentally matured quite a bit.

Again, no one from my past has to forgive me, I am not here to dictate how people should feel about me. I am just here to try to share my own side seeing as how I am unable to join most ososan servers and communities nowadays, and thus have a harder time being able to get in contact with or reach others.

I’ve been dying to say something, but kept worrying that it would stir up negative feelings or memories for others, but it’s getting to a point now where I’ve felt so isolated and hated by the fandom for five whole years that I’ve actually started having thoughts of self-harm again for the first time in awhile. I’m not saying this to make anyone feel guilty, and I haven’t acted on the thoughts, I just need to be honest.

This sort of behavior on the internet; gossiping about others, spreading misinformation about others, using a position of influence within a fandom to keep someone from making friends in fandom spaces... Or maybe people don’t even realize how much their words can affect others? Especially if they’re well-liked and exist in a lot of spaces. I’m sure there are no actual bad intentions when people say these things or vent to their friends.

And while I explained that one specific incident in detail that was with a specific person, it is not the only issue I’ve gotten myself into over the years either. I simply spoke about that one as I am just guessing it’s the big reason a lot of this is still going on to this day. I behaved poorly enough in the past that separate groups of people have ended up mad at me, regardless of even knowing each other. I was incredibly troubled, dealing with the aftermath of an abusive relationship, overworked with my animation assignments, and incredibly clueless in social situations or trying to relate to others. Again, these aren’t excuses... But explanations. Mentally ill people are not well, that’s why it’s an illness. In 2016-2017, I was at the lowest of my low, and continued to be until around the Fall of 2019. I have also matured significantly since, and have been working with a far more effective therapist as of late 2018, which I think is why I had such a positive change by 2019, as well as finding wonderful and supportive friends who truly care about me.

I know this is getting really long, too long honestly, but I really needed to get this off my chest...

I’m trying to decide whether or not this will be one of my final posts on tumblr as a whole, as I don’t think I will be able to participate in enjoying ososan publicly with how isolated I’ve been over the years by various groups and people; I think by this point the reputation is too soured for me to be a part of the community. Again, probably not out of malice, but fear and resentment at how I’ve acted.

The fact that I’m seeing more than a few people in ososan fandom I’ve never really spoken to, or people I was mutuals with blocking me is enough I think for me to consider calling it quits for public enjoyment. The fandom is already very small, and the anti-bl side is even smaller, so everyone is pretty interconnected and rumors can spread very easily. There’s no way I can compete with that, especially if I’m barred from most servers anyways.

I’m still going to mull it over, but again, if you’ve never met me, or if you’ve only seen screenshots of me from 2016 while panicking or allcapsing or at my worst... All I can really do is hope that maybe you’ll be able to see past these things and consider giving me a chance. 

As for the people I genuinely did hurt, I know I’ve said sorry many times now, even on my old blog Nutastic which I abandoned for similar reasons, but I don’t know how else or how better to prove how genuinely sorry I am... Because the proof of regret is in changing and becoming a better person, and there’s not much chance to see if I have or haven’t if I’ve been cut off.

No one has to forgive me, but perhaps at least entertain the idea I might’ve changed over the course of five years, and that telling people how I was back then instead of who I am now seems a bit unfair. Again, I suppose I dug my own grave by behaving like that in the first place, but I always try to show empathy even to people who wronged me at a low place in their lives, unless they were incredibly abusive and cruel.

At the end of the day, we’re all just people trying to enjoy a show about wacky sextuplets, and I don’t think anyone actually has any ill-will in their hearts, or has it in them to be “bad”, specifically on the anti-bl side. I don’t hold grudges, there’s no one that I currently have blocked unless they are a bl or a man that made me uncomfortable. My DMs are always open, as is my askbox.

Feel free to ask me anything or confront me about anything, though admittedly, doing so through anon makes it hard for me to reply as I don’t want to post anything potentially upsetting publicly.

And I will try to come to a decision about whether or not to pull a Jenna Marbles and leave social media for good out of regret and declining mental health. I will most likely make a post about it when I’m feeling more capable.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope your year is going good so far despite... Well, everything

[doctorcanon]

Ouyang Sect Headcanons

Ouyang Zizhen is my newest side character hyperfixation. So have this, I guess. Gong Er is an OC but heavily based off of a real life, though heavily mythologized figure in Chinese History. 

The Ouyang Sect is in Baling, nestled in Huangshan (where the scenes in Qishan were filmed irl, I believe). Their compound is carved into the mountains. It seems simple at first glance, but if you know the place well, you’d see that it’s actually an intricate system of tunnels, stairs and bridges. 

Not many people can live in a place so high up, so their sect has always been rather small. It was one of the first sects subjugated by the Wen Sect back in the day.

You don’t have to climb the stairs but it’s strongly advised. If you’re not careful on your sword or you might fly right into a cliff.

Cultivators have to have some kind of wilderness or endurance training to Night Hunt in Baling. The Terrain is very treacherous and the prey even more so. The more dangerous the surroundings the more potent the resentful energy. Accidental deaths often lead to spirits possessing parts of the forest and becoming grudges - one of the Ouyang Sect’s specialties.

Despite this, the Ouyang Sect isn’t quite as austere as one might think though Ouyang Xi is an infamous hardass. Some say that the cries you hear in the valley at night are the Juniors forced to carry weights up those many, many stairs.

Every sect has it’s list of rules or precepts but the Ouyang Sect is a little different. Because of the nature of their training, rules regarding free time are actually quite lax. Because of this, however, punishment for any infractions are harsh. 

Some say the training is punishment enough. 

It’s not uncommon for a trainee to be stolen from their beds at night, dropped in the middle of the wilderness, and told to find their way back home. Some don’t make it. Some just decide that it’s not worth it. Those that come back however, are greatly rewarded. 

Ouyang Sect members are unnaturally resilient and often uncommonly strong. Their heir, Ouyang Zizhen exemplifies their values.

As heir, Zizhen receives the harshest training. Some question the wisdom of sending his own son to face the elements alone with packs up to 69 kg - particularly after he nearly died from hypothermia - but Sect Leader Ouyang Xi just says if Zizhen can’t succeed in this simple task then he doesn’t have a son. 

Some people wonder if Zizhen is his son by blood anyway. Ouyang Xiaoyu died when her son was five and Ouyang Xi refuses to entertain these suspicions but some say that his harsh treatment of him only confirms it.

Zizhen was mostly raised by a proxy named Ouyang Li Mei, an abbess who was formerly adopted into the family at 18 due to her medical prowess in the Sunshot Campaign. Some say that she was supposed to eventually marry Ouyang Xi when his ailing wife passed away, but it never happened. Her birthname is Gong Er.

Ouyang Li Mei was stripped of her title and adoptive name after being accused of demonic cultivation. She was sentenced to be executed by Ouyang Xi but Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng intervened on her behalf. However she was still brutally punished and banished. She did, however, eventually make it back to her home temple in Gongzhi and cannot contact the outside world.

Ouyang Zizhen lost two mother figures in a very short time both he was directly involved in. Even Nie Huaisang’s intervention never quite quelled the rumors that Zizhen is not his father’s actual child.

The rumors only got worse after Guanyin Temple, when late-bloomer Zizhen started growing taller and stronger than his father, topping 190 cm. 

Father and Son don’t see eye to eye. On anything. And it’s only gotten worse since Gong Er was banished. Rumor has it that Wei Wuxian poisoned Zizhen against his father but this is something that has been brewing for a long time.

Before he met Jin Ling, Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui, Zizhen had very few confidants despite his charisma. To keep himself from developing a temper like his father, he often sought solace in books and art and when he got older, drink. 

Ouyang Sect and Nie Sect have always been dedicated allies. Just being in Nie Huaisang’s proximity only encouraged Zizhen’s romanticism and wit. Whether Huaisang did it to spite Ouyang Xi has yet to be decided. 

While he’s a dedicated survivalist, Zizhen is quite the hedonist outside of his training. You can often find him in the nearest inn, surrounded by disciples, dramatically reciting poetry and drinking Baling’s (in)famous Yanli Laoshi Liquor which - as the name implies - is more of an experience than an actual drink. So suffice to say, he has a strong stomach.

He claims that the memories of wine and song keeps him company throughout his long treks in the hinterlands. While he often goes out with a team of disciples, his solo night hunts can take weeks. A true extrovert; the harder the hunt, the wilder the revelry. 

Despite his stature in both status and height, Zizhen’s gregariousness makes him about as intimidating as a bunny. Because of this, however, he has a lot of friends. In fact, it seems like he has a friend in every city. He can always find a place to stay or someone to chat with. Making friends - he says - is another way of survival. 

Speaking of his friends, he’s a frequent visitor in both Gusu and Carp Tower but he prefers the latter, if only because they have better liquor. He honestly has no idea why Wei Wuxian likes Emperor's Smile so much, it might as well be water. (Wei Wuxian disagrees, according to him the kid just has no taste.)

He’s often seen in the company of Jin Ling, Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui during Cultivation Conferences and Competitions. Sects from all over usually call on the Ouyang Sect to help escort more important, sick or load bearing members from larger sects through dangerous areas when flying isn’t viable. So each of them travel with him often. Especially Lan Sizhui whose music is often used to treat sickness of the mind as well as the body. 

The Ouyang Sect favors practicality over propriety. So Zizhen’s knowledge is largely practical. He often feels a bit...dumb compared to his friends. Especially to Lan Jingyi who “knows everything” - according to Zizhen. 

His formal training (beyond basic Cultivating) is as follows: Orienteering (without a map), Bare-handed combat, Advanced First Aid, Survival Talismans, Survival Tactics (without talismans: building a fire or shelter etc…), and Astronomy. All of his work revolves around practical applications and some of the finer points of Sect etiquette are a little lost on him.

Sect Leader Yao noticed this, being one of Ouyang Xi’s closest friends, and tried to take the young man under his wing and teach him the proper way of doing things and filling in some of the blank spots his old friend couldn’t. It didn’t end well. And Sect Leader Yao’s son Yao Ji has not forgiven Zizhen for making his father lose face. 

Yao Ji and Ouyang Zizhen used to be friends. In fact, Zizhen used to call Yao Ji his Big Brother. However, when he started to surpass Yao Ji, their friendship fell apart. When Ouyang Zizhen started making friends outside of the Minor Sects, Yao Ji became straight up antagonistic.

As it stands, Ouyang Zizhen is the only person who can take over the Ouyang Sect. He has no siblings, and Sect Leader Ouyang has no living relatives, thanks to the Wen Sect. Without Zizhen, the Ouyang Sect could very well fall apart.

[ironwoman359]

if you don't have anything for either of these yet: on the run/bounty on their head? roman's a prince, but there's some kind of uprising or assassination attempt and he and his most trusted guard have to gtfo. they're on the run, sleeping in shitty motels (with only one bed ( ͡° ��ʖ ͡°) ) and roman has to learn to live w/o 24/7 service. you can pick who the guard is.

Safe With You

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: On the Run 

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Summary: Prince Roman gains a new appreciation for his personal knight when he is forced into hiding to escape an assassination attempt.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death/violence, some mild bickering, prinxiety (can be platonic or pre-romantic), platonic moxiety

Word Count: 1,645

Read on AO3 here

Bad Things Happen Masterlist

Requests are closed

---

Roman had never been so exhausted in his life. His feet were sore, his muscles ached, and there was nothing he wanted more than to collapse into his feather bed and sleep for a day. No wait, a massage from the royal masseuse to ease his muscle tension. No, a massage then sleep for a day. 

Yes, that would be the dream. 

Unfortunately, Roman’s life had been more akin to a nightmare these past few days. He was a prince, for crying out loud, heir to the throne itself! And now he was being forced to sneak through the woods in the middle of the night like...like some common ruffian! 

“You said we’d be reaching real lodgings soon!” he whined. His mother would say that his tone of voice was “unbefitting of a prince,” but he felt that after three days of sleeping rough with no one but his irksome personal knight for company, he was entitled to a bit of complaining. Speaking of his knight...

“We will, highness.” Roman could never figure out how the formal address managed to sound so insulting when Sir Virgil Ellsworth said it. “We should reach it before daybreak, so long as you do not slow us down with any more of your griping.” 

Roman made a petulant noise (that his mother would also not have approved of), but Virgil just rolled his eyes and pressed onwards, slipping through the foliage with the ease of a practiced woodsman. Roman stumbled along clumsily behind him, trying to resist the urge to gripe (he was a prince, he did not gripe...he loudly protested) about the terrain.

He managed this for approximately three minutes, which he thought was a rather impressive effort, giving the circumstances. 

“If your plan was to hide out at an inn then I don’t see why we had to trek through the undergrowth like this. Would it not have been simpler to take the roads? You do know what roads are, don’t you Sir Ellsworth?” 

“You do know what caution is, don’t you highness?” Virgil retorted. “By all means, take the roads, if you want to be caught by the assassins in less than a day.”  

Roman opened his mouth to argue back, but Virgil shut him up with a scathing glare. 

“I know you’re used to being the one to boss people around, Princey, but we’re not in the palace any longer. It’s my job to keep you alive, and out here, what I say goes. Got that?” 

He turned around without waiting for an answer, a breach of protocol that ordinarily would land him in serious trouble, but even Roman had to admit that the systems of etiquette and protocol that he was used to didn’t matter much in the middle of a coup. And as much as Roman had whined and complained (and alright, griped) about their traveling conditions, underneath his brash facade he was just glad that Virgil had remained loyal to him, even after the people who paid his salary had been run through by assassins’ blades. 

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud to his knight of course. 

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Virgil said, pulling Roman out of his musings. “Keep your head down, and let me do the talking.”

Roman glowered at him, but he pulled the hood of his travelling cloak up to obscure his face and followed Virgil without further complaint. Roman wasn’t sure how Virgil knew where they were, the woods all looked the same to him, but one minute they were surrounded by trees and the next they were stepping onto a dirt road that led into a tiny village. Virgil kept glancing around as they approached a building that Roman would call quaint if he wanted to be kind...ramshackle if he was feeling more irritable, which tonight he was. 

“You’re sure this is an inn?” 

“What part of keep your voice down is confusing you?” Virgil hissed with perhaps a touch more venom in his voice than was typical, and Roman blinked.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms with a huff. 

Virgil sighed and shook his head, then stepped forward and nudged the door open a crack, peering inside. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he pushed the door open properly and gestured for Roman to follow him inside.

Roman didn’t have much experience with inns, on the rare occasion that he had to travel his entourage would usually solicit the hospitality of a local noble family, so he had no idea if the cramped space was typical of this more...rustic establishment. Still, the room was cleaner than he’d expected; the stone floor was swept, the worn wooden tables were wiped down, and a pleasant, homey smell wafted through the air. It wasn’t hard to imagine the room full of peasants after a hard day's work, enjoying hearty food and drink to forget their hardships for a few hours. 

For now though, the room sat empty, save for one man who was hunched over the fireplace, stirring something in an iron pot. He spun around when he heard the door close behind them, and his eyes widened behind a pair of round glasses. 

“Oh! I wasn’t expecting customers this early in the morning, I–” 

“Pat, it’s me.”

The man froze. 

“Virgil?” he asked, and Virgil nodded. “Oh my– what are you doing here? When I heard about the capital, I was afraid that–”

“I need your help,” Virgil interrupted, and the man nodded. 

“Of course, whatever you need!.”

“A room? And off the books, Patton, nobody can know we’re here.”

Patton’s eyes flickered to Roman for a moment before looking back to Virgil with a firm nod. 

“Of course, of course. This way.”

He led Virgil and Roman up a staircase and down a hall, ushering them into a room. 

“It’s not much, but it’s yours for as long as you need it. And once I’m done opening things up downstairs I’ll come up and bring you some porridge, you kiddos must be hungry.”

“I can pay you,” Virgil began, but Patton shook his head. 

“Keep your money. I have a feeling you’ll be needing it more than me anyhow. Just stay safe for me, okay?” 

Virgil nodded. “Thank you.” 

Patton smiled at him, then with one last glance at Roman, slipped out of the room and back downstairs. Virgil shut the door behind him, then quickly crossed the room and closed the shutters as well, blocking out the first few rays of morning sunlight. 

“Okay,” he said, a bit of tension finally leaving his shoulders. “We should be okay to rest here for a bit. 

Roman looked around the room, and tried not to grimace. It was tiny, barely big enough to comfortably fit the single bed, wooden chair, and side table. No wardrobe, no desk, no vanity, and no lavatory. Still, at least there was a bed. No matter how lumpy the mattress might be, it was sure to be more comfortable than the forest floor. 

“Will this suffice for you, then?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow, and Roman sighed.

“It will have to do, I suppose,” he said, and Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“It better, because this is the only inn this side of the capital that won’t sell us out at the first flash of some coin.”

“So that innkeeper, you trust him then?” 

“With my life,” Virgil responded immediately, and Roman blinked. 

“Well alright then,” he muttered. He looked around the room, then frowned as one particular detail stuck out to him. “There’s only one bed.” 

“It’s a roadside inn, Princey, it doesn’t exactly have suites.” 

“I know, I wasn’t exactly expecting the lap of luxury here, but–”

“Relax,” Virgil interrupted. He pulled off his cloak and bunched it into a ball before stretching out on the floor and stuffing it under his head. “I’m all good, see? No need to worry about sharing your bed with the measly common folk.” 

 “I’m aware you’re making fun of me,” Roman grumbled, and Virgil laughed. 

“Good, I’d be worried if that was lost on you.”

“You think just because the world is collapsing around us that you can mistreat me so? I am still your prince.” 

Virgil gave him an unimpressed look, and Roman swallowed, suddenly cognizant of the fact that the only reason he was still alive was because of Virgil’s interference. He’d taken it for granted, Virgil was his knight, after all, it was his job to protect him, but when the rest of the palace had fallen, there would have been nothing stopping Virgil from giving Roman up to save his own skin. Instead, Virgil had taken him to safety, and Roman felt his face warm in shame.

“I apologize,” he said quietly, looking down. “That was...not a very chivalrous remark. I do recognize that it is only because of you that I am even alive, let alone a prince, and...I am grateful for that.” 

He glanced up, just in time to see a strange expression flicker across Virgil’s face for just a moment before his familiar smirk was back. 

“Alright, Princey, don’t get sappy on me now,” he said, and Roman let himself smirk back. 

“Just covering my bases here, I can’t exactly have rumors start spreading that the prince of the land doesn’t appreciate when someone saves his life.” 

“Go to sleep, highness, your precious reputation is safe with me,” Virgil snickered, closing his eyes. 

Roman chuckled, but as he lay back on the lumpy mattress, he didn’t miss the way Virgil’s hand drifted to rest on the hilt of his sword, or how he adjusted his position so that his body lay across the doorframe, one final barrier between Roman and any threat that might dare to enter. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, letting his own eyes slip closed. “I know I’m safe with you.”

---

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 9 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was groggy with lack of sleep the next morning, but an evening’s contemplation of the Lan sect’s rules had put him back into the right mindset.

As a disciple of the Lan sect, he was entitled under the rules for his elders to remember do not disrespect your juniors just as he was required to respect and obey your elders. Pursuant to the rules, he should have the protection of his sect and their support, and if what he had was imperfect, it was at least something; for every Lan Ganhui that mocked him, there was a Lan Yueheng that encouraged him, and there were plenty of teachers that preferred him over all the others.

As for his brother – Lan Qiren should not hold his anger against him. He had been acting in the best interest of the sect, seeking to obtain benefits for what had been lost; he had thought throughout the trip that Lan Qiren had given up more than just his word of honor, but had refrained from punishing him accordingly. In the end, even his father had assigned him only to kneel, which was a milder punishment by far than he deserved for all his mistakes and insolence.

More than that, his brother was right: Wen Ruohan would be bound by his own word of honor and public reputation to treat Lan Qiren with dignity, and by endorsing the relationship rather than rejecting it, his sect was indicating that they would hold Wen Ruohan to his word. His father had appropriately expressed concern on Lan Qiren’s behalf, his brother had refuted those concerns with well-reasoned logic; it was inappropriate for Lan Qiren to take such an intellectual discussion to heart.

That he had – and that he had forgotten, even temporarily and in the privacy of his own head, the rule do not argue with family for it does not matter who wins – was merely evidence once again that Lan Qiren was inferior to his brother, who through keeping a cool head had enabled their sect to turn what could have been an embarrassment into a victory.

As for his father…Lan Qiren shouldn’t have been surprised, that’s all. Hadn’t years and years taught him that fathers only gave what they chose to give and no more? He had long ago learned that his father was kind and noble and equitable, concerned with all the Lan sect disciples (but for his dearly beloved eldest) in the same way and the same manner; being disappointed to receive that and nothing more was only his own foolishness.

(He only wondered, in passing, why it had been his father’s glacial voice that had scared him so, compared to the familiar warmth of his brother’s anger.)

So fortified and reassured, Lan Qiren returned to the regular flow of daily life at the Cloud Recesses.

It was not easy. As his brother had predicted, rumors about his sworn brotherhood with Wen Ruohan sprang up at once, and many of his fellow disciples were prone to staring at him when they thought he wouldn’t notice. The teachers handed out many punishments for breaking the prohibition about talking behind people’s backs, although with a certain leniency that made Lan Qiren suspect that they themselves toed the line of that particular rule behind closed doors.

The rumors themselves were split between those that theorized that Wen Ruohan had used nefarious means to entrap Lan Qiren and force him to agree to brotherhood – the Fire Palace was mentioned often, as were various theoretical misapplications of cultivation techniques of dark and unsavory natures – and those that skipped over the how of brotherhood and went straight to speculating as to the why, which typically also involved a variety of references to misapplied cultivation techniques, this time of the sort most often found exclusively in certain types of low-brow spring books.

Someone even suggested that Wen Ruohan intended on taking Lan Qiren to bed as a cauldron, which was the stupidest idea out of the whole lot.

“Of course that can’t be true,” Lan Qiren patiently explained to Lan Yueheng, who had come to collect his geometry book. As a gesture of thanks for his support, Lan Qiren had read the whole thing and sent an annotated list of questions and comments; Lan Yueheng had practically turned pink with excitement when he’d seen it and then secluded himself for two days to write a response. Lan Qiren still didn’t see the appeal of geometry, but he’d managed to coax Lan Yueheng into a discussion of the mathematics of music theory, an area in which their particular interests overlapped, and he had hope of a fruitful dialogue continuing into the future. “At least traditionally, cauldrons are individuals with high cultivation potential that has yet to be developed – raw natural talent, in other words, which can then be refined into strength for another. My inborn talent is only moderate, even low, and my progress is primarily due to good resources and hard work. So even if someone put in the work to make me a cauldron, they wouldn’t get much out of me.”

Lan Yueheng nodded, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “So your brother would’ve been a better cauldron than you.”

“…that is correct, but please don’t say it.” Lan Qiren quietly pitied Lan Yueheng’s etiquette teachers, and spared a thought to hope that his cousin’s children, should he have them, would take more after whoever he married than him. Even if only because Lan Qiren hoped to become a teacher himself one day, and he was sure that Lan Yueheng’s particularly brash and un-Lan-like bluntness would make for a terrible future student. “Perhaps it would be more helpful for you to think of it in the sense of energy transfers of heat? I’m already cold, so to speak, so he wouldn’t be able to draw out much heat from me.”

“Wait, if you’re cold and Sect Leader Wen is hot, would that make him the cauldron? Assuming you ever did dual cultivate.”

Lan Qiren pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s...not how that works, Yueheng-xiong. At all. I was merely attempting to use a metaphor to clarify the issue. Clearly I failed and only confused things further.”

Lan Yueheng shrugged. “At least you try,” he remarked. “And when you fail, you try again, doing something different. It’s better than the teachers who just do the same thing every time and blame you for being as bemused on the seventh repetition as you were on the first.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears go red at the compliment. “You’ve been here too long,” he reminded his cousin. “Your parents won’t be happy to see you spending too much time with me.”

“My parents don’t care. It’s my aunt and uncle who don’t like it. They say that people might start asking if I cultivate as a cauldron too –”

“Your parents listen to your aunt and uncle, so if they don’t like it, you shouldn’t disobey them. The rules say Be a filial child.”

“They also say Do not form cliques to exclude others, but that isn’t stopping the other disciples from playing favorites, is it?”

That was definitely one of the rules more honored in the breach, Lan Qiren thought with a sigh. But what could be done, when their elders did the same? The sect followed the example of its leader, and his father’s tendency towards favoritism were well known, albeit one that was widely indulged as a quirk rather than condemned as a serious flaw. 

“I will remind the teachers of that one,” he said. “Perhaps a refresher would be suitable, to remind people. But the rule are meant for your own discipline, not others, and – ”

“Just because other people aren’t following the rules doesn’t mean I shouldn’t, I know,” Lan Yueheng said with a sigh of his own. “I’ll go…oh! It’s getting late. Weren’t you supposed to go to the guest’s pavilion by the western watchtower already?”

Lan Qiren blinked. “I don’t have that patrol route in my schedule until the end of the week.”

“No, no! I was supposed to tell you! Lao Nie’s come to visit, and –”

There were rules against running in the Cloud Recesses, so Lan Qiren was slightly late despite his best efforts, but true to form Lao Nie didn’t admonish him: he only turned from where he was sitting in the pavilion and smiled, calling out, “Qiren! There you are!”

“Forgive –”

“Forgiven,” Lao Nie interrupted before Lan Qiren even got the first word out. Lan Qiren was relieved to see that there was neither food nor tea already prepared; he would have been mortified if it had grown cold while Lao Nie was waiting to see him. “And don’t bow, either. How have you been? Tell me people aren’t harassing you over the nonsense with Hanhan.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth, then hesitated.

“Do not tell lies,” Lao Nie observed, grimacing. “Ah, Qiren! Sometimes your brother’s worse than useless. It’s a pity, really, I hadn’t realized – well. At any rate, I’ve been bothering him for weeks to tell me about you and he wouldn’t say a word.”

“He was angry at me for messing up the conference,” Lan Qiren explained.

Lao Nie’s eyebrows arched. “You mean the conference where the Lan sect got first place in both major events and then extracted serious concessions from the Wen sect in a completely unexpected and nearly inexplicable political coup that got the whole cultivation world talking in awe at your political acumen? That conference?”

“I lost face for him. He thought – well, he’d thought it was worse than it was,” Lan Qiren hesitated. “He’s not the only one.”

Lao Nie huffed. “People are, by and large, stupid,” he declared. “Don’t let them get to you. They’ll change their tune soon enough.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t so sure. “They say a reputation is like a porcelain vase,” he said, unable to conceal his worries in the face of someone actually expressing concern rather than curiosity. His dream was to be a traveling cultivator, and that would be much easier with a good name, which he had always had before – good, or at least boring, which was just fine with him. He preferred to be boring! It had never occurred to him that he might do something that would render him the subject of gossip; it had never happened before. “Once cracked…”

“Right now, there’s only some bored people speculating that there might be a crack,” Lao Nie said. His confidence was contagious; Lan Qiren couldn’t help but relax a little in the face of it. “No one’s actually sure about it, and they’re willing to hear otherwise – things aren’t yet so bad. Don’t worry. I’ve spoken with Hanhan about it already.”

Lan Qiren felt his ears burning in shame. “Lao Nie! You didn’t!”

Especially since that would undoubtedly only make Wen Ruohan even more angry…

Lao Nie laughed and put his hand on his head, rubbing it lightly. “I did. Not in your name, but rather his own – do you think the Wen sect wants to get a reputation for being led by a man with an unhealthy interest in noble-born children? It’s in his interest to get this cleared up as much as you.”

Lan Qiren felt the tension rush out of his shoulders all at once. That hadn’t occurred to him, but now that Lao Nie had pointed it out, it was clear enough.

After all, for all the talk going around about Lan Qiren, it was widely agreed that he was clearly the victim in whatever scenario they’d thought up, whether through having his oath extracted under torture or by force; even among those who theorized that Wen Ruohan intended to use him as a cauldron, the reputation Lan Qiren might get would be, at worst, that of a seductive flirt who couldn’t be resisted. Lan Qiren’s brother had scoffed audibly the first time he’d heard that, saying that such a rumor would naturally be dispelled the moment anyone came in contact with Lan Qiren for more than a moment, and in all honesty Lan Qiren agreed with his assessment. He had the classic Lan sect looks, yes, but so did many others, and he had a demeanor as stern as a schoolmaster, giving off the feel of an old man even though he wasn’t even of age.

Meanwhile, for Wen Ruohan, the consequences were undoubtedly more dire – if he was said to have a taste for boys, especially noble-born ones, the other sects might be afraid to send their sons around him. It was a different reputation by far than his taste for torture, or his supposed use of dark and forbidden cultivation; those would make people fear him, while lusting for children would only make people disdain him.

Still, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure how exactly even someone of Wen Ruohan’s cunning would go about fixing such a mistake – and that was putting aside why he would make such a mistake over Lan Qiren in the first place. He hadn’t had a chance to explain to his brother his theory that Wen Ruohan had acted just to irritate Lao Nie, and in the end he’d decided it wasn’t worth drawing his brother’s attention back to the subject.

Besides, if Lan Qiren could figure it out, with his notorious inability to understand interpersonal affairs, then surely his brother was more than able to do the same. It wasn’t as if Lao Nie were being shy about it…

“Hanhan said he had something in mind,” Lao Nie was saying, shaking his head. “He usually does, I find, and each idea’s more awful than the next.”

Lan Qiren shifted a little from one foot to the other. “If you know he’s awful, why do you…” he hesitated. “I mean, you call him – an endearment.”

“Oh, he’s a little awful, no doubt,” Lao Nie said, sounding rather fond. “But as long as it’s not my sect, what do I care? Anyway, Qiren, you shouldn’t worry. If there’s one thing you can trust with Hanhan, it’s that he takes care of anything associated with himself.”

Lan Qiren didn’t really like the fact that he was now counted among that number.

It didn’t seem all that safe.

“Though of course that doesn’t protect him from you,” Lao Nie added, suddenly smirking, and Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him. “Apparently, you’re a very talkative drunk.”

Lan Qiren’s face burned red.

“And effusive, too! According to Hanhan, even after you forced him down in his seat to keep listening to you, you kept waving your hands around while you were talking and knocking things over; he had to pin you down to keep you from destroying things by accident.”

That would explain the marks on his arms.

“Apparently, you didn’t appreciate him doing that and kneed him right in the –”

“You really think he can make the rumors go away?” Lan Qiren hastily interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck a little as if it would make the heat of hideous embarrassment go away. That tallied up a little too well with the physical evidence to be anything other than accurate. “There’s – a lot of them. And I’d like to have a clean reputation.”

“You will,” Lao Nie said, thankfully distracted from his mortifyingly plausible story. “Anyone who meets you will know at once that you’re a righteous and upstanding person.”

Lan Qiren liked that better than the way his brother had put it.

“It’s just that you haven’t had a chance to make your name in the cultivation world,” Lao Nie said. He sounded sure of himself. “You’ll do wonderful things one day, Qiren. I’ve no doubt.”

“I don’t want to do wonderful things,” Lan Qiren said, scowling. “I just want to travel around and help people.”

“Yes, I know,” Lao Nie said, and he sounded fond again, just the way he did when he was talking about Wen Ruohan, or even Lan Qiren’s brother. Truly, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the Nie sect had no idea how lucky they were to have him as sect leader. “Really, Qiren, it’s like I said: don’t worry about it. Now come, tell me what you’ve been studying recently.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself that he would reduce the amount of time he spent with Lao Nie on his occasional visits to the Lan sect, not wanting to risk inciting Wen Ruohan’s unreasonable anger and jealousy any further.

He would need to assign himself an appropriate punishment for breaking that promise, he thought, and sat down to start telling Lao Nie all about the work he was doing with one of his teachers on comparing the origin points of the various Lan sect rules, as well as his experiments on arrays to enhance open-air acoustics that would, he hoped, eventually be inscribed on all Lan sect instruments to increase the range and impact of their spell songs.

He even mentioned the possibility of a joint project on the mathematics of musical theory, and for whatever reason he thought Lao Nie looked especially pleased about that.

He didn’t think about Wen Ruohan at all.