#obiyukibingo22

[kirayaykimura]

Hotel AU

The hotel bar was mostly dead. There was a very drunk man in the corner, a woman taking a work call in the opposite corner, and Shirayuki. At the bar. Waiting. 

“He’s late,” Obi said, wiping down a glass behind the bar. 

“He’s working,” Shirayuki replied. She was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but that was kind of hard to do when she was doing him a favor and he was 42 minutes late. 

“He’s the one who-” 

The rest of Obi’s (most likely) valid observation was drowned out by Raj loudly throwing himself onto the stool next to Shirayuki and sighing out, “Oh, good. You’re still here.” 

She exchanged one last, fortifying look with Obi before plastering on her most polite smile. 

“Hello, Raj,” she said. “I hope everything is going well.” 

He seemed to debate with himself for a split second before walking his fingers along the bar towards Shirayuki’s hand, saying, “Well, it’s better now that you’re here.” 

“No,” Shirayuki said. 

Raj yelped as a cold spray of tonic water hit him in the side of the face. 

“I didn’t get you, did I?” Obi asked her over Raj’s spluttering. 

“A little,” Shirayuki said. “It’s fine.” She dabbed at a few stray droplets on her neck. 

“What was that for?” Raj asked. 

“I think you know what that was for.” 

Raj grabbed a handful of napkins with a petulant glare and started dabbing at his cheek and chest. 

“You were doing so well last time,” Shirayuki said. “What happened?” 

“Nothing!” Raj flailed his hands dramatically, then let his shoulders slump, defeated. “Nothing happened at all. We ate dinner and then I took her home.” 

“That sounds nice.” 

“Yes, but it doesn’t sound like a date. I wanted it to be a date. I want her to know that we’re dating.” 

Shirayuki blinked. “I think if you call it a date, she’ll know.” 

Obi huffed out a laugh that he quickly turned into a cough. 

“It sounds like it didn’t end the way you’d hoped,” Shirayuki said, steering the conversation back on track. “Did the rest of the night go well?” 

Raj shrugged. Oh dear. 

“It was fine,” he said. 

“What did you two talk about?” 

He waved a bored hand and said, “The hotel, my family, the chalet, skiing. The usual stuff.” 

“That’s what you talked about. What did she talk about?” 

Raj gave her a blank stare. 

Okay. She’d known this would be a challenge from the beginning, but sometimes she was struck by just how clueless he was (not that she should have been given the way they'd met). He’d apologized and seemed like he was really trying here, so she gathered all her patience and said, “Ask me a question.” 

“What?” 

“Not the kind of question she meant, bud,” Obi said, “but it’s a good start.” 

Shirayuki fought off an amused smile as Raj looked even more confused. 

“We’re supposed to be pretending I’m Clara, right? Ask me a question like you would if you were out with her.” 

There was a long pause before Raj asked, “How am I supposed to know what to ask?” 

She knew he was a little self-centered, but had he really never tried to get to know another person before? She didn’t know whether to be frustrated with him or pity him. 

“Hey,” Obi said, drawing both their attention to him. He leaned his elbows on the bar to bring himself eye-level with Shirayuki and said, “You were telling me something about lichen earlier.” 

Oh, that was right! She’d completely forgotten, but- “They found a species only found in Pennsylvania all the way up in Maine. Isn’t that exciting?” 

Obi smiled fondly at her, then gently gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face Raj. 

“See this?” Obi asked. “This is what happens when a woman is enjoying herself in a conversation. You should want to make her look like that all the time.”

Raj hummed. “I suppose it is a rather attractive expression.” 

Obi hit him with another spurt of tonic water. 

“In general!” Raj said. “I wasn’t hitting on her.” To Shirayuki, he said, “Not that you’re not lovely, of course, but I have my sights set elsewhere.” 

Shirayuki had no idea how to respond to that, so she slowly said, “Thank you.”  

“Practice,” Obi said. He picked up a glass and got back to cleaning. “Ask the lady a question.” 

Raj looked absolutely stumped for a beat before he asked, “Is that your natural hair color?” 

“Not that,” Shirayuki and Obi said at the same time. 

Raj threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“Go back to pretending like I’m Clara,” Shirayuki said. “Is there anything you’re curious about with her?” 

“Well,” he said in a way that reminded Shirayuki of trying to push a wheelbarrow across her grandparents’ pasture after a long summer rainstorm, “she mentioned boats once.” 

Shirayuki and Obi both perked up. 

“Oh?” Shirayuki said. “That’s something. What did she say?” 

“Obviously I told her about father’s yacht-”

“Obviously,” Obi said under his breath. 

“-and she mentioned wanting to travel by boat some day, so I said I could take her out and she said no.” 

Shirayuki and Obi waited for a beat, but it appeared Raj’s story was over. 

“You should have been a textile magnate with the way you spin yarns,” Obi said. 

“Alright,” Shirayuki said. “Did you ask her anything else?” 

“What, like, ‘Why would you turn down a trip on a yacht?’ You were the one who told me no means no and I shouldn’t push.” 

Patience. He was trying. In his own way. 

“Yes,” she said. “I meant, you could have asked her about her interest. Maybe she turned your offer down because she was only interested in small sailboats, or wanted to go on a cruise.” 

“Or she said no because a strange man she doesn’t actually know offered to take her out into international waters. Alone.” 

Shirayuki and Raj stared at him. 

“I’m just saying.” Obi threw his hands up in surrender. “My first thought would be, ‘What if he murders me.’”

“Huh,” Shirayuki and Raj said. 

“That never crossed my mind,” she said. 

“Mine either. Though we wouldn’t have been alone, obviously. Sakaki would have accompanied us.” 

“Oh good,” Obi said. “It would have been two strange men instead of one. Much better.” 

“Yes, yes. I see your point.” Raj waved a dismissive hand. 

“And you,” he said, sending a pointed look Shirayuki’s way. “Don’t go on boats with strange men who may or may not be murderers.” 

“That only happened once.” 

She was kidding. Though she did go on a questionable hiking trip once…

Obi heaved a world-weary sigh.

“So I simply ask her questions about herself,” Raj said dubiously. 

Shirayuki would have been concerned by the fact that Raj seemed to be calculating how best to manipulate this girl into sleeping with him if it weren’t for the fact that this was the third time he’d met with Shirayuki. The first time was to apologize and make amends. He swore he was turning over a new leaf and a new girl - one who didn’t work for his father’s hotel this time - had caught his eye and he wanted to learn what not to do from a woman he’d done everything wrong with. The second time had been to plan how to ask her out, during which he’d confessed what had caught his eye about Clara. 

Apparently she worked at the doggy day care center he usually left his maltese, Baroness Von Trapp, when he traveled. Normally, he sent Sakaki to drop off the Baroness, but Sakai had been out sick and that was that. Raj had met the sweetest, most gentle girl he’d ever encountered. She also had a pin of some online role-playing game he also played on her ID lanyard, which had convinced him they were soulmates, and she was slightly taller than him, which apparently really worked for him. 

“Who would’ve thought the lecher would believe in soulmates?” Obi had asked once Raj had left that second meet-up. 

“I think it’s nice,” Shirayuki had said. “He’s really changed for the better.” 

“Let’s not be too hasty, now.” 

Shirayuki chose to hold on to her belief that he really had changed - or was changing - for the better and took his question in good faith. 

“Look,” Shirayuki said, “I think we’re getting a little too in the weeds here. Just have a conversation.” When he looked like he might protest, she added, “A conversation where you both talk, not one where you tell her how rich you are.” 

Raj thought about it for a moment before saying, “Fine.”

“Good luck!” she told him as he excused himself to call Clara and ask for a second date. 

“He should be a case study for the detrimental effects of not properly socializing your children,” Obi said once Raj was out of earshot. “But enough about him. You were going to tell me why lichen in Maine is so exciting.”

Shirayuki blinked. “I thought that was just an example.” 

“Partially,” he said, leaning his elbows on the bartop to bring himself closer to her. “But I am interested. I like hearing you talk about things you’re excited about.” 

“Well,” she said, pushing past the awkward, clumsiness that came with doing something for the first time, “I could tell you over dinner?” 

“Careful, miss,” Obi said, amused. “That sounds like a date.” 

“That is what I was going for.” 

His amusement seemed to turn to discomfort even as he tried to play it off with a glib, “I don’t think your boyfriend would like that very much.” 

Her boyfriend? She didn’t have one. The last person she’d dated was- 

“Oh no,” she said. “I forgot to tell you.”  

“Tell me what?” 

“Zen and I broke up.” 

“What?” 

Obi stood up straight so fast his elbow knocked a glass off the counter, which he deftly caught before it could shatter on the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Shirayuki asked. She peeked over the edge of the bar to make sure nothing else fell. 

“I should be asking you that.” 

“Why? You’re the one who knocked things over.” 

“Not- nevermind. When did you and Zen break up?” 

It was August? So…

“A few months ago.” 

“Oh my god. I just saw you both last week! You looked the same as ever.” 

“That was kind of the problem,” Shirayuki said. 

Absolutely nothing had changed after they’d broken up aside from the fact that he never tried to randomly kiss her anymore, which was honestly a win. She loved Zen, but in the way she loved all her friends. 

“Huh,” Obi said with all the gravitas of a man whose worldview was shifting in real time. “I’ll be damned.” 

He thought she was still with Zen, so- “Is that why you rejected me last week?” 

Obi nearly dropped the glass he’d just caught. 

“Please come here before you break something,” Shirayuki said. 

Obi obeyed. Once he’d taken the stool Raj had vacated, he asked, “When did I reject you?” 

“After drinks with Yuzuri and Suzu.” 

She’d been tipsy and bold and hadn’t wanted Obi to leave, so she’d asked if he wanted to come up to her apartment for coffee. Or more alcohol. Or putting his face on her face. (She’d only offered the first option.) Obi had given her a lopsided smile and said, “Probably not the best idea.”

“The night you asked me to come up to your place and I was trying very hard not to touch you because you were with someone else?” 

“You wanted to touch me?” 

“Shirayuki. It’s almost a full-time job keeping a friendly distance from you.” 

Oh. 

“You don’t have to do that anymore if you don’t want to,” Shirayuki said. Then, to prove her point, she put a hand on the closest part of him she could reach, which happened to be his knee. Then, because she realized in real time that what she was doing was weird, she pulled her hand away and sat up straight again. 

Obi gave her a ridiculously fond smile. 

“Now that you know I’m single,” she said, “does that change your answer about dinner?” 

She could feel her hands start to shake in her lap, so she balled them into tight fists. There was nothing to be nervous about. This was Obi, after all. Even if it all came crashing down…well. He wouldn’t let it in the first place. 

“I would very much like to go to dinner with you,” he said. With a sly slant to his lips, he added, “While we’re rewriting history, I’d also like to fix the part where I turned down your offer to come up to your apartment.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Summer Challenge Announcement: Obiyuki AU Bingo 2022!

Back by popular demand, Obiyuki AU Bingo!

Sign ups for the summer challenge start today 4/17 and go until 4/23! Please send an ask to the comm if you wish to participate; we will send back a confirmation that you are signed up. You will be messaged your board assignment by one of the mods on May 1st (for non-Americans, please be aware the boards go out according to EST, so you may get yours on May 2nd). Please remember these asks CANNOT BE ANONYMOUS.

What is AU bingo?: People who are interested in joining us for the summer challenge will sign up to receive a randomly generated bingo board of alternate universe prompts. To win the challenge, make bingo! We will be doing a round up post of all the works posted in the tag each week, followed by a big round up post at the end of the challenge

Run Dates: Jun 19th - Jul 30th Sign-Ups: Apr 18th - Apr 24th Boards Assigned: May 1st Tag: #obiyukibingo22 Medias: Fic, art, edits or playlists

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[sabraeal]

The Opposite of Shame

[Read on AO3]

It should be easy.

That’s what Zen had said they paddled the last few yards into the canals, a stream of water curled onto his palm, shaping itself into a pearl, too precious to even touch. At least, easier than what you were doing, he’d laughed, letting it splash back down into the water, splattering into Mitsuhide’s lap. After squeezing water out of vines, a whole city of it should be nothing.

And yet sweat beads at her brow when she tries to coax a trickle from its slow currents, dripping from her fingers like a recalcitrant cat. Her boots brace against the ice, and she hauls, the way laborers would, pulling and straining and still-- it flops back down to the surface, swallowed up by ripples like it never left at all.

Shirayuki sprawls right back onto her rear with a huff. That’s what she gets, bending with only half her head. Maybe if she was still ho-- where she came from, she might have managed it. There was something about knowing every vine curled around her window and every plant in the streets of Ba Sing Se that made the motions come easier to her, that made bending nearly mindless. But here...

Ba Sing Se may have been raised from stone, but there were trees there, gardens. Little window boxes where grannies raised their kitchen herbs and children tended their mother’s flowers. In Agna Qel’a, it’s all...ice. Ice and snow and water a shade warmer than freezing; a paradise for a waterbender like her, one who had always hidden her skills lest some neighbor suspect she was the Avatar. Water was next in the cycle, after all, and to see a child with green eyes bend something besides stone would bring her before of the Fire Lord faster than the Earth prince could snap. Even the ancestors would be hard pressed to say what would happen to her when he found out she was simply mixed-blood, a waterbender wearing an earthbender’s face.

And yet this is not the safe haven she imagined, the home she had yet to find. Instead it’s barren, as cold and uninviting as Master Haruka. A woman need draw no more than a dram, he’d said, voice cracking like a whip in the temple. Any more risks being unseemly.

Unseemly. She gets her feet beneath her, letting her attention slide alongside a likely stream. Haruka’s voice echoes in the confines of her skull, What does a healer need that couldn’t fit in a skein?

Healer, he said; woman, he meant. How Kiki could come from a place like this, her bending honed to a blade’s edge, and yet its Master Bender could still say to her face-- impossible.

Her teeth grit, cheeks flushed. Zen might have warned her at least. He’d made this place seem like a refuge, like heaven, like home, and now not only does she have to worry after Haruka, but even Raj--

She can’t think about that. That’s the whole purpose of this: to not think about it. Another thing that’s supposed to be easy. After all, Shirayuki forgets things all the time. Meetings, meals, sleep-- it all fades away under the sinuous stretch of leaf and vine, her fingers reaching and stems rising to meet the motion, as easy as putting on a glove.

But that’s not what it’s like here. Not when it’s so cold that algae barely blooms. Hard to lose herself when every surface reflects her face.

“Lookin’ pretty serious there.”

Shirayuki concentration shatters, easy as a plate on a pub floor. The stream of water she’s pulled-- larger than she’s ever managed before, even if it still wiggles and drips against her control-- drops, tumbling back into the canal with a plop, big enough to soak her boots.

No, both their boots.

“Ah, uh...” She doesn’t know his name; a realization that pulls her up screeching a moment too late. They’ve only met twice, after all-- once when he tried to scare her off, and again when he caught her at Laxdo. Each time he’s appeared like fog off the water, disappearing just the same way, intangible and unannounced. “Sorry.”

Satisfaction glints like a knife’s edge in that man’s eyes, as if he suspected he might get this reaction. Or worse, meant to do it.

Well, that’s what he gets, anyway, coming up on her all unaware like this, a strange man in a strange city. He’s lucky she doesn’t have her plants, otherwise he wouldn’t have much room to be giving her smirks and sly eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss.” His shoulders twitch, a distant cousin to a shrug, as he shakes off his feet. “I was asking for it sneaking up on a lady all alone like that.”

It mollifies her to hear him admit it. Just a little. “Here, let me at least--”

Her hand flicks out, ready to wick the water off him-- it’d be rude not to-- but he shuffles away with a laugh, his own warding her off.

“I said don’t worry about it.” His smile is wide, if not a little lop-sided. “You barely got me. It’ll dry off on its own.”

She frowns down, eyeing the waterline on his boots, wet splotches climbing all the way to his knees. He can say what he likes, but it’s freezing at the poles, and even dry he’ll still be cold. She should really--

Her teeth clamp down, keeping her protest locked behind them. There’s no reason for her to worry about a man that only shows up to cause her trouble. “What are you doing here?”

His grin sharpens to a point, through strangely, she’s sure it isn’t aimed at her. “My my, young miss. You may not wear a necklace like these water folk, but that question has teeth.”

She lifts her chin, stubbornly meeting his eyes. “Should it not?”

For a moment, he’s still. Not the way a person is, all hitched movements and stifled breaths, but the way eel hound does before they strike-- motionless. More like a statue than a living being.

And then his mouth splits in a grin, tongue clucking against his teeth. “And after I caught you in my arms, too. Folks just aren’t as grateful as they used to be.”

Shirayuki stares, confused. “Used to--?”

His hand waves, dismissive. “Don’t worry about it, Miss. I’ll admit it’s a fair one. I heard the Earth King was in town, and I thought I’d make myself scarce.” He shrugs, so casual. “Hard to say how often men like him take a glance at wanted posters, and I like being on this side of a metal cage, thank you very much.”

“Earth prince.” The correction flies from her before she can think twice. And by the time she does, it’s far, far too late to say anything but, “Raj is the Earth Prince.”

“Ah.” His eyes light, and oh, it isn’t in surprise. No, that’s a guess proven right. “So you do know him.”

“I...”

She turns away, tongue tangled. There’s no reason to tell him more; he’s nothing to her, just a shadow that she can’t shake. One of the many men that serve the Northern Water Tribe; Zen might have hired him on-- odd, that he hasn’t mentioned it yet, if he has-- but that doesn’t mean he’ll be following him around the way Kiki and Mitsuhide do. There’s a half dozen men that serve him directly, and she never sees--

“Do you hear that?” His hand clamps around her wrist, tugging her attention to where he stands with his head cocked, listening to the wind. “C’mon. It’s coming from over there.”

“H-hear--” the words jumble out of her as he drags her along the canals, traipsing through the streets and dodging around gates-- “hear what?”

He stops, so suddenly she nearly trips over him.

“Why, Miss.” His eyes wink as bright as lanterns. “I heard your name.”

Her jaw drops. “But how--?”

“Your Highness.” She’d known that voice anywhere: Master Bender Haruka. The man who told her only days ago that woman should only bend to heal, not to fight. “I hear you’ve taken on a new retainer.”

She tears her gaze from the man beside her, fixing it on the pillars and-- and--

The royal garden. He’s taken her unerringly the the single place in this city that has plants. And also the single place in this city that has Raj.

When she turns back to him, he has the grace to look chagrined. “If I were you,” he says, voice as thin as a breeze, “I wouldn’t poke my head too far up. Hate to get caught, you know.”

Shirayuki frowns, disapproval surely written in her eyes, but--

But she crouches down anyway, shoulder slotting against his. This close, it’s hard to ignore how warm he is, heat radiating even through the thick material of his parka. She scooches closer, letting it wash over her, just a bit.

“Oh, Miss,” he purrs, grin taking on a wicked slant. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

[claudeng80]

Up In Flames 0.5 (Firefighter AU)

Comes before https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339926/chapters/62157340

There are far more comfortable places Shirayuki could spend her afternoon than a folding chair in the equipment hangar. Her office has air conditioning, for one thing. There are decently comfortable chairs. But most importantly, her office is entirely free of arguing Wisterias.

“The whole thing is ridiculous,” Zen grumps. His voice is quiet, because everyone knows the steel ceiling echoes like nobody’s business, but his brother doesn’t bother to moderate his voice.

“You’re just jealous that they aren’t interested in administrators.” Izana grins, and Shirayuki can’t help but think whoever made that decision must have not seen the Wisterias in person.

“That’s not-” Zen breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, audibly deciding to take the high road. “It’s for a good cause, at least.” At the other side of the room a bird shrieks, which sets off one of the dogs.

“That sounds like our cue to go,” Izana answers, unflappable as always. “Please make sure nothing gets out of hand.” He turns, and Zen sighs and follows him.

That leaves Shirayuki alone with a volunteer from the Humane Society, a menagerie of the most photogenic animals available for adoption that they could round up, one very pushy photographer, and at least one shirtless firefighter. “For a good cause,” she reminds herself and walks over to see what she can do to help.

Hisame Rougis, at least, is having a good time. “No, Lulu, I need that,” he coos, gently readjusting the python to free up his hand. Lulu bunches up for a moment, then loops around his bicep affectionately.

“You sure you aren’t looking for a pet, sir?” The Humane Society volunteer has stars in her eyes. Whether it’s at Hisame’s chest, which is, admittedly, nice, or at the thought of getting Lulu a new home, Shirayuki can’t tell.

“What would you say to that, Kiki?” Hisame cranes back over his shoulder, the photographer’s camera clicks like firecrackers, and Shirayuki realizes she’s not the only spectator here.

“No,” Kiki answers and unfolds from her chair. She’s not in her flight suit today, but she still draws eyes in sweats. Her T-shirt is loose, tied off at the waist. “No snakes.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Hisame purrs.

“You wish, Rougis,” Kiki tosses back. It sounds like a denial, and yet she’s smiling. There’s something going on with the two of them. Shirayuki had thought, since she arrived, that Kiki and Mitsuhide either were dating or were on the way to something, but for the last few weeks-

They’re not talking, and suddenly Kiki’s got the time of day for Hisame. He’s friendly enough, but there’s something just a bit off about him. He’ll go over great in the charity calendar, though, if the photographer catches his smolder through his slightly-too-long hair. “This way,” the photographer reminds him, and Kiki passes beyond his directed gaze.

She stops by Shirayuki. “Did you see yesterday’s photos?” Her outstretched phone shows Mitsuhide grinning, a friendly husky dog’s tongue wrapping around his cheek. “It took them almost an hour to get the picture they were happy with.”

“How did you get a copy? I thought we weren’t going to see anything until the calendar?”

Kiki’s enigmatic smile is all the answer she gives. “You sure you don’t need some help keeping order in here? I’m sure the equipment audit can wait.”

In the distance, Hisame looks just as sad to say goodbye to Lulu as she is reluctant to let go of him. “I doubt Izana would agree.”

Kiki laughs, short but genuine. “You keep a close watch, then, and tell me all about it later.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be much to tell her, really. Everything’s much quieter with the Wisterias and Hisame gone; eventually the dogs back in the storage room stop barking, the photographer is engrossed in her laptop, and the volunteer plops into the folding chair with a relieved sigh. “Oh man, this is going to be the hottest calendar ever. I can’t wait to see it.”

Shirayuki would have to live under a rock to not have heard that people find firemen sexy, but these are all people she knows, people whose tonsils she’s inspected. Or worse. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah! This calendar’s going to sell so well, you’d better get your order in quick.”

She hadn’t really planned on it. It seems kind of unprofessional to have pictures of half-naked men hanging up in her office, even if it weren’t extra weird due to said men being her patients. And something about hanging it up at home feels even worse.

“Send in mister October,” calls the photographer, saving her from having to answer, but the volunteer is still trying to disentangle herself from the folding chair when Obi strolls in on his own. The smile on his face may be charming, but his shoulders are tense. The photographer takes a thorough survey, from head to toe. “Inky and Sue, I think,” she tosses off to the volunteer, who nods and heads back into the storage room.

“They’re not dogs, right?” Obi clutches at his T-shirt. He jumps out of planes and walks into fires for a living. He killed a rattlesnake that got into the building, once. But the sigh of relief he breathes when the volunteer returns carrying two tiny kittens is audible all the way across the room. He reaches out his gloved hands, and the photographer clicks her tongue. His hands freeze outstretched. “Oh.”

His eyes flick to Shirayuki - she may be across the room, but she can’t miss it. Still watching her, he reaches the back of his neck and pulls off his T-shirt. Cloth slides over muscles, then over scars, and it’s all too obvious when the photographer sees it. She stops, she stares, and Obi’s hand comes up to grasp at his shoulder.

It's only because she's watching so slowly that Shirayuki sees blood smear under his finger. "You're hurt!"

That, at least, interrupts the photographer's stare. Obi stares too, for a moment before he too notices the blood. "Just a scratch," he says.

"Let me clean it up for you," she insists, and drags him out into the hallway.

"It's really nothing." He doesn't wave her hands away, at least, as she pulls an alcohol wipe from her pocket and tears it open. "They want wilderness firefighters, they have to expect some of us are going to show off more than just a tan. Nobody trusts a firefighter without a few marks on him." It falls from his lips too easily, like it's something he's been telling himself, and his shoulders curl inward. Skin pulls and folds at the white scar across his chest.

“Maybe the photographer will work with you to find a pose you’re comfortable with.” He stares at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. She doesn’t want to say it outright, but she’s no Izana to get her ideas across with less than half the words it should take. “Something that doesn’t show anything you don’t want to show?”

She can’t look at his face anymore, so she busies herself with the scratch. It really was a minor as he said, and it’s very clean now. His hand comes up to capture hers, gently lifting it off his shoulder. “You mean the chick magnet here, I take it.” His other hand taps the scar.

It’s hard to figure how he means that, whether it’s serious or yet another self-deprecating joke. There’s nothing to do but insist. “I meant anything-”

“It’s all right. This is from a long time ago.” She hasn’t seen this gentle smile on him before. His fingers cradle her wrist like it’s a bird, or something he’ll protect until it’s ready to take flight once more- hopefully he can’t feel her pulse speeding as the moment stretches. “If you’d been there, there probably wouldn’t even have been a scar.”

The equipment hangar door screeches and the volunteer leans out, looking frazzled. She’s still clutching the kittens, which are yowling angrily. “Are you almost ready?”

“Showtime,” says Obi. Gently, he frees Shirayuki’s hand, then rocks to a stand like he’s ready to run. “I’m ready for my close-up,” he calls out to the photographer as he swans back into the room.

Shirayuki watches him go, cupping her hand to her chest.

***

There’s a suspiciously large envelope rolled up in Shirayuki’s office mail. She has a pretty good suspicion of what it must be, but when she slits open the flap she still forces herself to read the letter first. “Thank you for your tax-deductible contribution to the Humane Society . . .” it begins, and something flips in the vicinity of her stomach. It’s here.

The calendar is glossy and printed on good paper- she tries to smooth it flat, where it had been rolled up in her mailbox, but it springs back to a curve. Time and gravity will fix that, once she hangs it up.

If she hangs it up.

Mitsuhide got the January spot, laughing as a very large dog stretches to kiss him. Hisame, in June, looks mysterious and alluring with Lulu staring directly at the camera. Shikito, in August, bends down to fill a water bowl for a beagle puppy.

She hesitates over September. Not that she minds Shuka wielding a hammer assembling some kind of enclosure as two adorable little brown rabbits watch, but she isn’t quite sure she’s ready to turn the page.

“The sexiest yet,” the Humane Society volunteer had whispered in her ear, all but vibrating as they watched Obi pose for the photographer.

But if she turns the page, she’s going to have to have something to say when he asks what she thinks. She’ll have to have an opinion. She’s going to have to tell him he’s sexy.

She’s being silly. Reckless, she flips the page, and there’s Obi’s profile- the photo is from his back, every muscle lit in full definition as he holds a bicep curl pose. On his left arm two tiny black kittens perch, one trying to climb his forearm and the other screaming in his face, and his lip curls in a way she knows he was just about to laugh. It’s so him, and the cats are so cute, and at the same time she can’t stop staring at the details. The line where the tan on his neck ends. The way the light casts shadows from his shoulder blades and every knob of his spine. The hint of another scar just at the edge of the photo, one she hasn’t noticed in person before-

“Oh, they’re here?” Kiki strides into the office without knocking, and Shirayuki slams shut the calendar. Kiki sets Shirayuki’s coffee on the desk, sips her own, thankfully does not say a word about Shirayuki’s crimson blush, and leans over to get a look at the Dalmatian on the cover.

“It just arrived in the mail today. Did you order one?” She picks up her coffee, suppressing the urge to hide it under the desk.

“Please.” Kiki flips open the cover, directly to January. “I bought ten.”

[obiyuki-beebs]

ivy on the walls

obiyuki bingo 2022, @snowwhite-andtheknight words: 683 Gothic Literature

This is really just a draft of part of the first chapter, but for the sake of participating at least a little bit I thought I would put out what I have. It might not seem terribly gothic yet but I hope that future installments will be as unsettling to read as they are in my head. 

---

“Obi!” Shirayuki nearly shouted, bursting into his bedroom shortly after dinner, “Can we go on a trip?”

“A trip?” Obi repeated from his desk, eyeing her over the glasses he wore for reading. The oil lamp beside him flickered as the door crashed shut behind her. 

“Yes,” she said excitedly, sitting down hurriedly on his bed with her hands bunched into fists over her skirts. “There are reports of a break in the local biome. Changes in barometric pressure, a frankly astounding increase in humidity, it’s truly-“

He nodded sagely, his familiarity with her studies evident in how he fully understood the ecological jargon that came to her so easily. Such it is when you spend so many years together, he thought ruefully.

“Miss,” he said, finally getting a word in edgewise when she paused to breathe, “when do we leave?”

Shirayuki smiled, glee leaking through her teeth.

“I hoped you would agree. Let’s leave at week's end. Based on the reports I’ve read, it’s 40 leagues northeast,” she said, flipping open a neatly bound stack of papers. She scanned through a few pages before bracing it open in tight hands. Obi frowned at the page.

“Hmm,” he gently tugged the report out of her hands, “I’ve heard of this place. Just how many people have gone missing in this purported singular biome?”

Her smile faltered.

“Thirty-seven,” she said, voice sober, “But don’t you think that makes it even more important for it to be investigated? And who better? I can document my observations and bring them to Makiri and the research board. They can put up a protective border. We won't know what to do if we don't investigate.”

“Have you taken this to Makiri? Shidan?” Her pout answered his question immediately. “If they’re against it-”

“Tosh,” Shirayuki said, “Shidan hardly has room to talk. Do you remember the Olin maris incident?”

“How could I forget,” Obi replied drily. He remembered; the snow in her hair; her weight on his back; ice and running water. He thought of the children with strange markings on their arms and her smile when they all – everyone – recovered from the mysterious illness. 

Obi looked up at her and the determined hope that set her lip just so.

“We’ll go -”

“Oh, Obi -”

“- But just for observation. Any hint of odd goings-about, and we leave. One day on-site, and we will certainly not be camping there. I’d prefer not to explain to our prince that you went missing in an uncharted hole in the woods.”

He caught the flash of irritation that passed over her face and chose to catalogue it for later. After a moment, she smiled with soft eyes.

“I’ll be with you, though.”

“And that allows you to be reckless?”

“Perhaps not. What if I promise not to jump out of a window this time?”

“I might be satisfied,” Obi said, smiling back at her. Shirayuki stood to leave, contented that he had agreed to her plan. “Speaking of reckless, Miss..”

“Yes?” she asked, turning back to him. 

He had caught up to her, standing an arm's length away, reaching delicately around her to open the door. 

“I might recommend that you don’t enter men's bedrooms late at night. They might begin to entertain ideas about your intentions.”

Shirayuki blushed furiously. If he leaned just a bit closer, he might have felt the heat of it.

“I-I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered, peering up at him under her lashes, “Goodnight, Obi.” She gave him a small, flustered smile before darting away.

“Goodnight, Miss.” Obi watched her go, eyebrows raised. 

Puzzled by her reaction but choosing not to think too hard on it lest he make a big to-do, he returned to his desk to contemplate the file she had left with him. Still open to the map, he studied it carefully to decide the best route for them to take.

“Is this..” he whispered. The route struck him as familiar, and faint memories of records on previous military movements surfaced in his thoughts. He stared at the map, unease coiling deep in his chest.

---

thanks for reading <3

[batgirlsay]

Herbalist Burnout

Teacher AU Playlist for Obiyuki AU Bingo 2022 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

While searching for a final playlist to make, I decided to condense my ever growing “Academic Burnout” playlist that got me through these past few semesters of teaching into an AU playlist.  

The story is similar to the grad school playlist, except Shirayuki is also teaching labs as a TA when she is in grad school at Lilias. Obi is encouraging her along the way, with the two Incubus songs from his point of view (there’s even a poison apple reference!).

Surface Pressure- Jessica Darrow (from Encanto Soundtrack) How Not To Drown- Chvrches and Robert Smith Head Above Water- GLASWING (Aaron Marsh of Copeland) Pictures of Success- Rilo Kiley State of the Art- Incubus Earth to Bella, Pt. 2- Incubus Up All Night- David Bazan The Shell- Lucy Dacus

Summary lyrics are cited after the bonus burnout Shirayuki!

Surface Pressure- Jessica Darrow (from Encanto Soundtrack)

I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is I move mountains, I move churches And I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is

I don't ask how hard the work is Got a rough, indestructible surface Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but

Under the surface I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus Under the surface Was Hercules ever like, "Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus?" Under the surface I'm pretty surе I'm worthless if I can't be of servicе

Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow Who am I if I can't carry it all? If I falter

But wait, if I could shake the crushing weight of expectations Would that free some room up for joy Or relaxation, or simple pleasure? Instead, we measure this growing pressure Keeps growing, keep going

How Not To Drown- Chvrches and Robert Smith

I'm writin' a book on how to stay conscious when you drown And if the words float up to the surface, I'll keep 'em down

I'm writing a chapter on what to do after they dig you up On what to do after you grew to hate what you used to love

Head Above Water- GLASWING (Aaron Marsh of Copeland)

Can I keep my head above water You keep my head above water

It’s everything that I hope for Everything that I fear

And when I’ve finally gone under Turn my head to the sun Feel the water rush through me Think of how far I’ve fallen I think of how far we’ve come From our days on the shorе line With one foot in the cold To whеn we’d drift to the low tide With the waves as they roll

Pictures of Success- Rilo Kiley

I'm a modern girl but I fold in half so easily When I put myself in the picture of success I could learn world trade or try to map the ocean

'Cause I'm not scared But I'd like some extra spare time

And I say I've got my best shoes on I'm ready to go

State of the Art- Incubus

You were the first in flight, now a modern relic Merely a payphone on a one AM sidewalk We're all cast aside and we're antiquated Right as we start to finally figure out what we are

Now do you see that smile at the foot of the ladder Ain't it familiar? That was you only yesterday But this justice feels more like a poison apple And inevitably everyone'll bite into it

Look at you so bright, state of the art You're new, you're young, your blissful ignorance Is everything they like, but the years have teeth And sometimes they bite

Earth to Bella, Pt. 2- Incubus

Earth to Bella This is a quiet emergency There's so much more to get than wronged

You're treading water successfully But are you really Don't you want to see the deep It's not so hard Just forgive yourself and feel the water open in

Up All Night- David Bazan

School's out forever It's time to blow off some steam I wanna lay on the desert floor And have a vivid dream

Summertime ain't just for teachers Summertime trying to sleep to noon Summertime up all night howling at the moon

I don't know what we're here for But the air on this summer night Makes my head feel alright

The Shell- Lucy Dacus

It's a myth and now I see it clearly You don't have to be sad to make something worth hearing Now I'm common and content, one more burden off my back

You don't wanna be a creator Doesn't mean you've got nothing to say Put down the pen, don't let it force your hand

If I had the offer to do it again Make me invincible, invisible, or brain dead If the body and the life were two things that we could divide I'd deliver up my shell to be filled with somebody else

You don't wanna be a leader Doesn't mean you don't know the way Hold your own hand, walk on without a plan

[kpslp]

Wistaria & Son’s Seasoning, Inc.

“Wistaria and Son’s Seasoning. This is Obi speaking, how may I help you?” he rattles off mechanically, spinning the ballpoint pen between his fingertips while he listens to the customer's fiery complaint with faux interest.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

[puffdragongirl]

A-Tisket, A-Tasket, Nettles in a Basket

*slides in with 8 minutes to spare*

Please accept this offering inspired by a childhood favorite of mine - The Wild Swans.

Once upon a time, in kingdom more peaceful than not, there lived a woman. She had not always lived in this kingdom, but it didn’t take long after her arrival for most to know her. For although the woman’s hair was drab and her skin was marred, both perpetually darkened as if covered in a thick layer of dust, something about her had immediately captured their youngest Prince’s interest.

The romantics among the Court claimed the Prince was enamored with her eyes. She might not be fair of face, but her eyes were a capturing shade of green and glimmered with determination.

The guards suggested he admired her demeanor. She was, undeniably quiet – and as a matter of fact, not a soul had ever heard her speak a single word – but despite that she was far from timid.

The King privately thought his younger brother was taken by her heart, or rather by the fact that the Prince didn’t hold it. For although it was clear that the woman could reach out and claim him, although he has offered her his powers and resources, she does not take them. Each time, she has turned him down, igniting an even deeper curiosity for who denies a prince.

Instead, she spends each day the same way – knitting at the forest lake.

No one could blame her for spending her days at the forest lake. Located in a glen a short walk from town, it is a beautiful sight. The dense trees surrounding the lake are reflected in the crystal clear water. Waves lap at a pebbled shore which gives way to a grassy knoll dotted with wildflowers. The woman sits on a blanket at the intersection of gravel and grass, looking out over the water while she works. A pile of greenish stalks rests in a basket at her side, slowly diminishing as they are worked into the cloth slowly building in her hands.

Within the lake, two swans skim along the water. One is young, wearing the grey and white mottled plumage of a juvenile. It moves slowly, back and forth across the middle of the lake, head occasionally bobbing as if barely staving off sleep. The other is fully grown, with striking black plumage save for a slash of white across its breast. As opposed to the young one, this swan is alert. It swims a regimented path around the exterior of the pond, pausing at regular intervals to inspect both the cygnet and the woman. The few locals brave enough to venture towards the quiet forest glen will attest this behavior to be akin to guarding, as the black swan seems more than willing to flare its large wings and snap its red-orange beak at any passersby that draw too close to its self-assigned charges.

On this day, like many, the Prince comes to visit the woman as she works. The black swan bristles, wings rising in threat, but settles upon recognizing the familiar form. Upon reaching her side, the Prince kneels upon the blanket. Gently, gingerly, he reaches for her hands, which – like always – are battered, skin torn and fingers blistered from the stinging nettles that are her chosen thread.

“Please,” the Prince pleads, “Cease your work, and come with me.” A familiar refrain follows as he offers her again a room in the palace, a visit to his healers who could surely repair her hands and restore her seemingly-frozen voice, and, if nothing else, fine threads much more suited to her work than stinging nettles. “Please, my lady, won’t you accept my hand; my help; my heart?”

The woman – like always – has the same answer. She shakes her head, a gentle, if exasperated smile curving her lips at the Prince’s persistent pursuit. She pulls her hands from his, gestures towards the cloth, then the lake, and then gently pats the nettles in her basket. The message is clear – this is her work, and she will complete it.

Denied once more, the Prince retreats, although not before returning her smile with a respectful, if not quite understanding, one of his own. He presses a small pot of healing ointment into her hand, and calls out instructions to “Use it, this time!” before continuing on his way. The woman shakes her head again and then turns to wave as he departs.

Point made, the glen settles again, quiet broken only by the gentle burble of water and the occasional sound of wings sweeping against water. The pile in the basket shrinks as the cloth grows, and soon the woman notes she will need to gather another batch of nettles. But before she can rise to do so, the gentle slap of webbed feet captures her attention.

The two swans approach, beaks filled, and each lays a pile of nettles in the basket. The cygnet returns quickly to the water, studiously avoiding looking directly at her, but the black swan lingers just near her blanket for a bit. Its molten gold eyes burn into hers, then glance at her battered hands. She raises a brow at it – none of them can speak now but it’s been a long time since they’ve relied on words to communicate – then reaches for the freshly deposited nettles to resume her knitting again. Her choice had been made long ago, and it would take more than stinging nettles to keep them apart.

After all, they do say swans mate for life.

[kirayaykimura]

this is gonna be one of those things

con artist au

It was the way of the world that there were always people getting screwed and others doing the screwing. Obi just happened to be both. 

He’d run out of money a few hours before and needed a quick influx of cash. He felt a little bad about it, but not enough to not bump into the cute girl distractedly frowning down at her phone while she walked down the street. Not paying attention and wearing a very nice watch were two things he was hard-pressed to pass up. Needs must and all that. 

“I am so sorry,” he said, reaching a hand out to steady her after he’d knocked her off-balance with a well-timed shoulder check that was just a bit harder than he was going for, judging by the chunk of red hair that slid loose from her haphazard ponytail on impact. In his defense, it had been a while since he’d had to do a quick job like this. He usually preferred to charm people into giving him money willingly, but that took time he didn’t have at the moment. 

The hand not steadying her slipped into the purse sitting at her hip and palmed her wallet. It was small and square and practically made to fit concealed in his hand. It was fate that he rob this woman, really. 

“Oh,” she said. Wide eyes looked up from her phone to blink at Obi. “No, I’m sure it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“No worries,” Obi said, slipping her wallet into his back pocket and out of her view. 

Now that he had what he needed, all he needed to do was make a quick getaway. He took a step back, ready to bid her farewell, but she stopped him with an outstretched hand and a polite, “Excuse me.” 

Damn. He hated when they stopped him. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have a very good reason for stealing my wallet, but I do need it. Would you please hand it back?”  

“Uh,” was all Obi managed. He hadn’t been caught in years, and even then he’d mostly been whacked over the head with everything from open palms to purses to newspapers. This was new. 

“I’ll just-” she reached out and slipped her wallet out of his back pocket, the motion so smooth he almost didn’t feel it. Wouldn’t have felt it, honestly, if he hadn’t known it was coming. 

“Who are you?” Obi asked. She had to be someone. Those were not the nimble fingers of the distracted rich girl he’d thought he’d been targeting. 

“Someone who’s going to be late for her bus,” she said, starting to back away from him. “I really am sorry, and good luck!” She paused only a few steps away, opened her wallet, and took out a few coins. She marched back up to him and held the coins out to him. Unthinking, he took the money. 

“That’s all I have that isn’t going to bus fare,” she said, backing away once more. “It’s not much, but it should get you started.” 

And then she was gone, leaving behind nothing but 73 cents and a baffled sense of awe.

[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Send Us Your Favorite AUs!

Tell us the AUs you’ve been longing to see: Hogwarts AU? Regency AU? Space Opera AU? They can be general (Historical AU! Space AU!) or specific (FMA AU! Percy Jackson AU!) but we need a WHOLE BUNCH, so send us as many as you like!

Submit Your Requests Here!

[sabraeal]

Not Mutually Exclusive

[Read on AO3]

Written for @puffdragongirl‘s birthday! Robin has been wanting to read some conference Lyrias crew for years now, and despite my best efforts, I still only managed to get them to the hotel. But at least now I have this conference arc planned out 🤣

The seat belt sign flicks on overhead, its warning plain. Still, Shirayuki can’t possibly sit still for much longer; her phone tempts her, buried in the satchel the flight attendant so cheerfully helped stow beneath the seat in front of her. It would be nothing to reach down, to flip open the bag and hope it’s the only thing that slips out.

Another smiling attendant passes by, and she can’t help it, the temptation’s too great. Shirayuki descends the moment that crisp uniform shows its back, stifling a cry as both her chapstick and her coin purse make a bid for freedom. She stops them with the tip of her toe;. It’s a surgical procedure to nudge them back under the flap while she coaxes her phone out from underneath it, but Opa always said she had steady hands, even if she could never quite decide what to do with them.

The home screen blossoms under her fingers, and with a swipe, the email is right there in stark black and white.

Most importantly, it reads, each word making her pulse spike, please remember that the funding for your trip is coming through a grant from Bergstrom Holdings. It would be best to refrain from mentioning your connections with Wisteria Holdings Ltd., even personal ones.

Her case creaks under her grip. Izana may have a reputation for being inscrutable, but it’s impossible to miss the implication here: act like you have never met my brother, let alone done whatever left those marks on his neck last spring. He’d sent the emails days ago, early enough for it to also mean: and don’t show up with any new ones of your own while you’re at it.

Because that’s what a normal person would assume, wouldn’t they? It’s been almost six months since he’s had Zen flying into Miami on the regular, managing some project of Kihal’s while overseeing the company’s day-to-day operations. Just a few weeks at a time, every hour tightly scheduled, right down to meals and sleep.

But a couple would find some way around it. That’s what Izana expects; he’d tried the same thing when she’d been at Clarines too, heaping club upon club, duty onto duty. And still they’d found a way to sneak in narrow hours, to sacrifice a few moments of sleep so he could slip his hand into hers and look at the stars.

And yet, though the miles between them have shrunk to an hour in Miami traffic, nothing’s changed. She still spends her days split between wet lab and wetlands, writing up grant proposals and collating data into tables. He still takes work lunches and tables discussions, the boots-- or at least, designer shoes-- on the ground for his brother’s interests, making sure that Izana Wisteria’s will is done to the letter, or as close as his conscience allows. They may both look up at the stars, but it’s not side-by-side, fingers tangled to fill their empty spaces.

No, now it’s just texts, maybe a quick phone call if they can squeeze it in between meetings and emails and classes. The sort of catch up she has with Kiki and Mitsuhide, albeit with more days of phone tag. Despite all those years of stressful almosts, he’s gone from being her almost something back into being friends. Just that and nothing more.

It should be disappointing. No, it should be maddening that she put all that effort into becoming the Right Sort of Girl only for it all to fizzle at the finish line. But instead, instead--

Instead, she’s relieved. If they’re not something, then it’s okay to-- to want something else. To maybe glance over at the other end of the couch and wish she could will a look her way. That maybe one day, those cushioned between them might disappear, and he--

“You know--” her seat back inclines, accommodating the way Obi leans over it, grin Cheshire-wide-- “the Big Boss has got a way with words, Doc, I’ll admit it, but they’re going to turn on that No Electronics sign any minute now.”

Shirayuki startles at the sound of his voice, guilt and his grin setting her blood to simmering just beneath her skin. “I know, I know.”

Her cheeks are hot as she fumbles with the screen, stumbling through menus before Obi plucks it out of her hands and sets it on to Airplane Mode with two taps. His smirk is far too satisfied by the time he slips it back in her hands. “There you go, Doc. Now I gotta go make sure none of the other grandmas need help with their Jitterbugs or whatever.”

Her mouth pulls thin. “Are you supposed to be up? I’m pretty sure the seat belt sign is already on.”

“I like to think of that as more of a suggestion than a rule,” he says, dropping back down into his seat. “Really more like a guideline, I think.”

“It’s not.” Ryuu doesn’t look up from where he’s scrolling through the in-flight channels. “They can fine you up to ten thousand dollars for violating a federal aviation regulation--”

“Alright,” Obi sighs wearily, the sound punctuated by a metallic click. “I get it, Little Guy.”

The plane-wide intercom fizzes, and with only a breath of a pause, a woman’s voice warmly greets them. “Welcome to Flight 597 with service from Miami International Airport to New Orleans International Airport. If we could have your attention for just one moment--”

“Hey,” Yuzuri hisses, poking a pointed finger into Kazaha’s side. “Did you hear that? Scroll faster.”

It would be gracious to describe his expression as long suffering. “I’ll have you know I’m going at the perfect pace.” Her finger stretches out toward him again, aiming for an even softer span of belly, but Kazaha catches her, slapping her hands away with all the strength of a breeze. “Some of us are actually trying to read the pdf, not use it as a Denny’s menu.”

There’s a noise Yuzuri makes, something that lives between a scoff and screech, and when she looses it in the cabin, soulless plastic casing amplifying the sound, it’s...a lot. They are a lot. “Shows what you know, you bougie freeloader. A Denny’s menu would never have so many words.”

“Ah.” It’s strange how Kazaha sounds in pressurized space; his typical unearned confidence sloughs off his words, leaving them tinny and small. “I wouldn’t know.”

When it comes to minding her business, Shirayuki operates on an expert level-- it comes with the territory of waking up to a house full of strangers every morning-- but the two of them are testing her skills. Yuzuri and Kazaha are like parallel lines, traveling in the same direction at the same speed but on utterly different levels, never meant to cross. And yet here they are, cozened up to each other, sharing the same screen.

It’s odd enough to even draw Izuru’s attention, her neck craning around her seat until she can half-look Kazaha in the eye. “You know, you don’t have to read all the talks right now. They are gonna shove copies at us the second we get through the doors.”

“And this is one of the biggest conferences in the field,” Suzu adds, a little too eager. “The thing’s going to be as big as a phone book.”

“I can’t possibly wait that long,” Kazaha snaps waspishly. “I have to visualize my schedule before we get there, otherwise I won’t know how to properly allocate my mental reserve.”

Yuzuri pulls back from his shoulder, nonplussed. “Do you like, even hear yourself? Or does all that just come out with no peer review?”

“Ah, a rebuke that might sting if it wasn’t coming from someone whose brain-to-mouth filter was perforated at birth.”

“At least my parents didn’t skimp on getting the stick surgically removed from my--”

“You know, Yuzuri,” Shirayuki starts, desperation pitching her volume loud enough to draw their stares. “It’s so impressive you’re planning this early. I didn’t even know you, er--” cared about the talks was far too blunt a take-- “had any speakers you wanted to listen to.”

“She doesn’t,” Kazaha informs her officiously. “Yuzuri is not concerned with the content of the talks, but the more, hm, superficial aspects of them.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Like...the quality of the slides...?”

Obi clucks behind her. “Doc.”

“Wha--?”

“Like the hotness of the speakers,” Suzu supplies, so casual. “Yuzuri’s using the schedule as a hook up directory.”

“The pdf is the only one with pictures!” she squawks, barely red at all. “Sue me!”

Izuru snorts. “Someone might, if you pick the wrong fuckbuddy.”

“H-hook up...?” Shirayuki can feel her mouth moving, but there’s no words on her tongue, her entire head empty save for, “But isn’t this an academic conference?”

She swings her gaze to Izuru, longing for some sort of assurance, but instead the woman just reaches across the aisle, patting her lightly on the knee. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“B-but, we have to work with these people--”

Kazaha chuckles, pressing a hand to his chest. “So innocent, so young. Shirayuki--” he leans over Yuzuri, a smug smirk tugging at his mouth-- “we don’t work with them, we email them. And once or twice a year, we all get in the same room, and a good portion of those highly educated, sometimes even tenured intellects decide to think with what’s in their pants for three to five business days.”

“Oh, please.” Yuzuri shakes her head, the golden stream of her ponytail slapping him across the mouth. It’s a mistake-- it’s not like she could plan that-- but Yuzuri doesn’t look particularly sorry either. “Just tell everyone you’re sour because you can’t get a single breathing human to let you in their pants, why don’t you?”

“I--”

“Kazaha’s right though, man,” Suzu’s disembodied voice informs her somewhere behind her seat. “Everyone hooks up at conferences. Nowhere’s safe! Last year they held it at Lyrias, and let me tell you, there are several bathrooms I will never look at the same way again. Those partitions are not sound proof.”

Yuzuri heaves a wistful sigh. “Maybe I’ll get to have one of those this year.”

“It’s overrated.”

Shirayuki cranes her head around her seat, blinking owlishly at Obi.

“What?” He tugs at his shoulder, shrugging beneath his own grip. “I speak from personal experience.”

“Really?” Yuzuri squawks, too excited. “Did you have to--?”

“Ryuu.” Shidan shifts in his seat, fixing them all with a meaningful look, the sort parents gave wayward aunts and uncles. “Maybe you should put on those headphones.”

“Hm?” He blinks up, eyes impossibly large, making him look years younger than sixteen. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Good.”

“I was trying to figure out what a phone book was,” Ryuu admits, forehead wrinkling with curiosity. “Was there an actual, literal book? How would you update it though? They couldn’t just send them out regularly--”

“Excuse me.” Shidan raises his hand, flagging down the flight attendant. “When does drink service start?”

No matter how many times they do the math-- or how many times Suzu enthusiastically points out the flier for a party bus-- there’s no taxi that can fit them all at once. It’s only sensible to split four and four, flag down two vans and pack them to the brim. But still--

“You’re sure you don’t want to ride with us, Ryuu?” There’s hardly any room, but even though he’s been growing like a weed these past few years, he’s still narrow as one. If a dandelion can grow in a sidewalk, they can slip him between Obi and Suzu. “If we squish a little, you could always--”

“I’m fine.” He rolls his eyes to where Yuzuri clambers in, squawking as she stumbles past the two middle seats to the back. “I think riding with Shidan would be safer.”

“Hm, what do you mean?” Shirayuki asks, and she means it, she really does--

Right up until they are barrelling down the highway, the van’s frame shuddering between her feet, and Yuzuri blurts out, “But it’s like wall sex isn’t it? If you fuck in the bathroom.”

Ah. Hm. Maybe she should have gone in Shidan’s car too. They’re probably playing a rousing game of Name That Flora right now.

“Nah.” Obi shrugs, his shoulders broad enough to limn the seat back. “You can’t get good leverage, and when there’s a flat surface, it’s that fake marble shit. No one wants to put their bare ass on that.”

Suzu peeks around the passenger seat. “For like, bacteria reasons?”

“No.” She can’t see Obi’s face, not sitting behind him, but she knows the tilt of his head, the way his muscles bunch around his cheek on one side. “It’s cold as fuck.”

“Well, you’d just do it in the stall, wouldn’t you?” Yuzuri wraps her fingers around the chair back, like if she shakes him, a positive answer might rattle out of him. “Like I said, wall sex. Only easier, since you can brace your feet on the other side.”

Suzu’s forehead furrows. “That sounds hard.”

“Most people have upper body strength, Suzu.”

“No, no.” Obi shakes his head. “Suzu’s got a point. That’s like fifty percent more effort than I want to put into a casual hookup. Plus there’s a non-zero chance that the last asshole to use the pot didn’t flush.”

Yuzuri stares at him. “You can just flush it!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t!” he yelps, squirming away from her probing fingers. “It’s just a real mood killer. One time, I got in there and some guy had --” his eyes glide to where Shirayuki sits, and he makes a strangled noise-- “anyway, there’s no point when there’s beds. Or couches, if you don’t want them in your space or whatever.”

With a roll of her eyes, Yuzuri declares, “What a romantic.”

“You asked,” Obi grunts, hand massaging at his shoulder. “Anyway, if your curiosity is sated, maybe we can--”

“I just don’t understand.” The words fly from her mouth before Shirayuki can stopper them up, turning every eye to her. “Isn’t everyone here to work?”

“Well, sure.” Shirayuki is a connoisseur of patronizing tones, and she can hear this one loud and clear, well-meaning though it is. Yuzuri isn’t precisely talking down to her, but it’s definitely a tolerant tone, the one parents use with particularly smart children. The kind that says, this would be obvious to an adult, but since you aren’t...

“Think of it like this.” Their shoulders bump as Yuzuri leans close, a coy tilt to her smile “All these people are used to being the smartest person in the room, and suddenly they’re with all these other smart people-- maybe people even smarter than them--”

“HA,” Suzu snorts. “Find me a PhD that’ll admit to that.”

Obi grins. “You’d be hard pressed to find a grad student.”

“--my point is, you’re in a hotel filled with people who won’t find it intimidating that you can mark a turtle migratory pattern on a map just by looking at its skull. And it’s once a year, not where you live.” Yuzuri shrugs, as if the math is simple, as if everyone decides these things based on nice faces and opportunity. “It’s not precisely anonymous, but it’s as close as people who live on a grant cycle are likely to get.”

Shirayuki stares. “But it’s a work trip.”

Yuzuri shrugs. “What happens at conference stays at conference.”

The line at check-in winds through the lobby, the tail end of it spilling out toward the bar-- though not close enough according to Shidan’s longing looks. Shirayuki likes to call herself a social drinker-- though with the increased workload at the lab, her opportunities for being social have shrunk to ‘occasional’ at best-- but even she is feeling the siren call of the cocktail. Anything to keep her occupied; her only other option is to join Kazaha and Yuzuri’s game of ‘spot the speaker,’ and, well, she doesn’t have nearly as much interest as either of them. Not when she’s supposed to be looking for another face entirely.

“Hey.” She drags her attention back, right to Obi’s grin. “I think Doc has check-in covered for both of us, so do you guys want something from the bar?”

Kazaha splutters as Yuzuri twists around, her hair flying into his mouth. “Ooh, would you? When they were in Miami there were themed cocktails. I still can’t believe I let Turtles on the Beach get away.”

His eyebrows jump, intrigued. “Can’t make any promises about what they’ll have but I’ll see what I can do. What about you, Doc?” He leans in, placing a hand on her back, and it’s-- it’s shocking to realize how far that warmth spreads, thumb brushing her shoulder blade while his littlest finger rests along the waistband of her skirt. “See anything you want?”

It’s an innocent question, one he’s asked her a hundred times since he dropped into her life unannounced, always the one positioning himself between her and the till, like her greatest threat is buying her own hot chocolate. But today--

Today, a coil of heat unfurls in her gut, slithering south. She wants nothing more than to stop it, than to smother that heat right under her heel and let it smoulder to ash, but she can’t stop it, not even a little. Not now that Yuzuri’s been talking about-- about wall sex, about how nice it is to be held up by big, strong hands like she weighs nothing at all.

And just a few weeks ago that would have been nothing to her, just an entertaining idea for her to trip over the logistics of. But now-- now--

Now she knows how easy it would be to lift her legs, to let her weight become someone else’s problem. How it would be nothing at all for Obi’s heat to press her against the wall and keep her there, his head dropping to her shoulder as his breath skims out over her neck--

“Doc?”

She startles, blinking him back into focus. “Ah, I don’t...have a preference. Anything you think would be good. You know what I like.”

Mischief widens his smile, and oh, that-- that really shouldn’t do as much for her as it does. “Got it. Be back in a sec.”

She doubts it, considering how so many patrons seem to have the same idea. But she can’t complain, not when she clearly needs a minute. Maybe even four or five to give herself a good shake.

“Oh, hey, Shidan!” Suzu swings around to him, the conference guide nearly overflowing from his hands. “You didn’t tell me Garack Gazalt would be at this conference.”

Shidan blinks, staring down at the page. “Ah, yes. She did mention she’d be here later in the week. How did she put it--?”

“‘I have a few irons on the fire that need tending before I can come play,’” Ryuu offers.

Izuru snorts. “And then she referred to the guest of honor as something...impolite to say the least.”

“Ah yes.” One broad hand rubs at his forehead. “That.”

“I suppose that is going to stay at conference this year too?” Kazaha sniffs. “Or will we all get to watch you moon over--?”

“We’ve been over this, there’s is no mooning, we are professional colleagues--”

The line moves-- a whole group must have been checked in at once, considering the sudden void between theirs and the one in front of them-- but Shidan doesn’t. He’s far too caught up with sputtering through his explanation, the slightest hint of pink dusting his ears as he skirts around their undergraduate degrees, and though it’s rude to just leave the space there--

Well, Shirayuki doesn’t want to get involved. She has enough romantic problems without tangling herself up in the complicated, long-distance platonic life partnership of her PI. Or, well, whatever is going on there. She worked with Garack long enough to know that asking questions only leads to more work down the road.

She attempts to skirt around one side of them, hoping that maybe the two of them would pick up the hint, but--

But Yuzuri swoops in, seizing her wrist and dragging her until they nearly trip over the next group’s baggage.

“So,” she hums, too pleased with herself. “What about you?”

Shirayuki blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What are your plans?” Her mouth hooks into a devious smile. “I mean, besides that stuff You Know Who needs you to look into, and like, actually going to these talks for fun or whatever.”

It can be like this, talking to Yuzuri sometimes: like she’s just missed half a conversation. “What else is there?”

“Shirayuki.” Her fingers squeeze around her wrist, warm. “You and that Zen guy are like, done-done right?”

“Ah...” Her feet shuffle beneath her, restless. “I don’t know if it’s really...I mean, nothing’s been said, I just...assumed...maybe...”

Yuzuri scoffs. “Come on, he said goodbye with a handshake. If that doesn’t say over I don’t know what does.”

It would be useless to explain that she’d been the one to hold out her hand, and Zen was ever conscious of the angles cameras could hide, but--

But, well, maybe Yuzuri does have a point. “I...I guess.”

“Right, well, I know.” Her mouth hooks into a triumphant smirk. “And now you’re somewhere where no one is going to expect anything from you. You might as well take advantage right?”

There’s no words that can express how little the idea interests her, not to Yuzuri. “I don’t think...I’ll be doing that.”

“You sure?” Her eyebrow quirks up, followed by her mouth, and oh no, she’s walked into a plan. “Because if you wanted to, I’m sure Obi would oblige.”

[claudeng80]

A Thread of Literature  (Ming Dynasty AU)

Shirayuki stabs the needle through the silk of her torn skirt, picturing Apothecary Bai’s face. As happy as he is to take her silver and teach her the compounding of medicines, the moment she turns her back he has plenty to say to anyone who will listen-

Today he told a complete stranger he had a tame pirate doing his bidding, and she had to stop and breathe to keep from proving his prejudices with rash action. She is no wako pirate, despite her foreign name. If her father may have been at one time, that is still no business of hers or Bai’s. It certainly has no bearing on her skills.

Skills which are more wide-ranging than his own, she might add. Apothecary Bai may know his pharmacopeia and have sat for the imperial civil service examination in his youth, but he has never been present at a birth. Nor does he know more than seven types of pulse or has he ever been the one to cut the peach branches for an exorcism.

Even the wako deserve medicine. Izana agreed with that, and Zen, back before-

Before she thought she’d give up her plans for him, when he’d call her his good fortune, his lucky red apple. Long, long before his sweet words dried to dust and she became merely a dish left on the table.

A strand of her hair slips free, tickling her face, and she tucks it back up. She has to shift the pin to secure it, gilded stick and enamel bead ever so familiar under her fingers. Obi may not have thought anything of it when he gave it to her, but she’s never had a gift so useful.

“If you are done murdering your clothing, I’d like to continue.” Yuzuri waves the book at her as the haze of red in her vision fades to the lamp-lit walls of their rented rooms. The kitchen-god frowns at her from his spot above the stove, and Yuzuri sprawls comfortably on the bed.

“I wasn’t-” She looks down at her hands and doesn’t bother finishing the argument. Perhaps she can pass it off as an attempt at embroidery. She takes one more stitch, more gently this time, and it doesn’t improve matters.

Longer aoqun are in style now. Perhaps she can afford a new robe, which will cover up her terrible mending and the grass-stains as well. Pleased with the solution, she nods to Yuzuri. A story will make this all go much more pleasantly.

***

“I am not engaged,” Xue Ying said. “No go-between has knocked at my door, and he has sent me no wedding-gifts.”

Jiaxiang was astounded. All these years his master had desired Xue Ying, encouraging her studies and waiting for her to return his interest. She ran to bedsides with the suspicious midwives, argued over gardens with the medicine-makers, but Jiaxiang had assumed at least she was coming home to gifts from her wealthy admirer. He could have sent luxurious foods. He could have sent her silk. All the time he waited, he could have kept himself in Xue Ying’s thoughts.

But perhaps time had dulled his hunger for her sweetness, or his family’s diatribes on the virtues and responsibilities of a first wife had at last taken root. Perhaps he had thought Jiaxiang’s attention gift enough, barbed though it was.

But Jiaxiang, too, had been waiting all this time. Hope bloomed in his body that if she denied his master’s pursuit so vehemently, there was a chance she might listen to words of love from another mouth. He had more than enough words to offer her.

Like the weaver’s shuttles your hands fly

Knowing the restoratives with the touch of your fingers

Like the medicines you brew

The touch of your hands is like life to me

Your lips are like jewels and your skin smooth as steamed bread

but of ever more value is the depth of your thought

You would be a treasure in any home

A wealth greater than taels of silver

What would a man do to catch your interest?

What can he offer that books and letters do not?

I can bring only my body to offer

If desires of the flesh can tempt you

***

“That’s what you need,” says Yuzuri. Shirayuki nods agreement over her sewing, she really could use another clean pair of trousers. The neighbors would frown on her in the courtyard, trying to do her washing in just her short robes. It takes her about three more stitches before she realizes that’s probably not what Yuzuri meant at all.

“What is?” Her eyes ache, focusing on her friend so much further away than her work.

Thankfully, Yuzuri is used to it. “A man like that,” she explains. “Someone who respects your scholarship, wants to show you a good time, and writes poetry.”

“It’s a novel,” Shirayuki insists. The needle catches in the blue silk, and she has to pull back a stitch. “It’s not real. And why would I care about poetry, anyway?”

***

Jiaxiang’s heart pounded as his hand brushed her shoe, but Xue Ying did not pull away. Blooms as pink as peonies dressed her cheeks as she watched him, and he ran a finger along the length of her foot.

Her feet were unbound, but it made no change to his desire for her. A drink from her shoe would be more than a sip, but he had a strong stomach. “They are not a lady’s feet,” she said, and Jiaxiang could hear in her voice a long history of slights. “I am far from a lady.”

“Nor am I a gentleman,” he growled. If anything that only intensified the interest in her face, and he was emboldened to caress the silk of her trousers. Her calves were rounded and strong, and she shifted impatiently under his touch.

“It is warm in here,” she said, and she reached for a fan, but the article that came to her hand was a long-ago gift from the wealthy man. She tossed it away and reached for Jiaxiang, and he gathered her in his arms.

***

“Ooh, we’re getting to the good part,” crows Yuzuri.

“Just in time,” says Obi, looming suddenly in the doorway. He, as always, enters as silently as  mist and with as little permission, but he knows himself welcome in their rooms. He tosses his well-worn hat on the table by the door and sprawls in a chair. It rocks under his weight, as it always does, but he balances it.

Shirayuki pulls her ao closed a little tighter; her zhuyao is unlaced and it’s all well and good to sit around half-dressed with Yuzuri in this heat, but Obi doesn’t need to see that. Yuzuri, as usual, makes no move to cover up, her arms and shoulders exposed.

***

“Jiaxiang, I have waited long enough for you.” He laid her on the bed and she drew him down beside her. The bed-curtains swung closed behind them.

His fingers were as sure on the wrappings of her robe as hers were eager on his sash. Like a flower opening to the sun for the first time, she exposed herself to him, and he kissed her eagerly on the lips and everywhere she desired.

The one who wished for a home has found his place

pillowed on his lover’s bosom

His house needs no doors

For he will never leave her in danger

No bed or chairs

His arms will always be open for her

When they both were sated, they lay side by side in the bed, damp with sweat and drowsy. Xue Ying was content to sleep, but Jiaxiang moved stiffly and anxiously until she asked what was troubling him.

***

“Lice,” says Obi. “He’s had bugs all along and now he must confess.”

“You know she could treat that,” Shirayuki adds. “There would be nothing to be ashamed of.”

Yuzuri draws a breath, as if to read right over them, then shuts the book instead. “You two are terrible. How am I supposed to read this to you when you’re roleplaying the characters right here in front of me?” She thinks for a moment, then waves a hand carelessly. “Maybe not you, Obi, you would have to take off a lot of clothes to be Jiaxiang, but Shirayuki sounds just like Xue Ying. That’s exactly what she would do.”

She drops the book with a slap of paper, and Shirayuki makes a noise of protest before she can catch herself. She did not mean to get distracted, to be so invested in the story, but she will not be at ease until she knows Jiaxiang’s response.

Yuzuri slides the book under her blanket. “Maybe that’s your problem, you’re always business first. Zen came to you with a wrenched shoulder and you wrapped it with a plaster when you could have offered to kiss it better.”

“Kissing wouldn’t have helped it heal-”

“Just like Xue Ying offering Jiaxiang a tonic the first time they met.”

“That made perfect sense, he was described as someone who gave very little thought to his health, and she would have wanted to help-”

“That’s not the point!” A neighbor thumps on the adjoining wall, sending dust sifting to the floor, and Yuzuri continues more quietly. “You deserve to be cherished. You deserve poetry.”

“I’ve had poetry,” Shirayuki grumbles. Raj compared her hair to the color of ripe peppers, as proud of himself as though he’d invented the comparison.

“Clearly not the right poetry,” Yuzuri retorts. “Or the right man.”

Somehow this has all gotten off track. “This book is all the poetry I need. Just one more page?” She looks down once more at the mending in her hands, but the light is truly gone now. She can wear it tomorrow; the remaining hole is small enough that nobody will notice.

Yuzuri climbs out of the blankets and down from the bed-platform. “Not until I’m not thinking about lice anymore. I’m not about to ruin the good part thinking about Jiaxiang and Xue Ying itching.”

At the door she pauses, meeting Shirayuki’s eye for a moment. “A little anticipation is good for you,” she adds. “A man would be even better. One who writes you poetry.” She punctuates the last word with the creak of the door, leaving Shirayuki alone in the quiet house.

Or not alone, although Obi has been silent far longer than is his usual. He just watches as she crawls across the bed-platform and pulls out the book.

***

From the pile of his robes Jiaxiang withdrew a gold pin, as delicate as a phoenix feather with a single enamel bead and a golden tassel. It was a perfect match to the one he gave Xue Ying years ago, insisting it was nothing.  Even then she had suspected he was exaggerating.

“I am no wealthy man to dress you in gold and surround you with servants,” he said. “But I have loved you since we first met. If I send the go-between, would you have me?”

***

“See, the tonic worked for her,” Shirayuki grumbles to herself, and Obi chuckles.

“What’s got Yuzuri so worked up about poetry?”

Shirayuki rolls onto her side; the platform is cool beneath her cheek. “The other day I said something about Xue Ying reminding me of her. She’s been on a mission ever since to convince me it’s the other way around.”

“You do have to admit she has a point.” His voice has a smile in it.

“I don’t have to admit anything.” There’s no mistaking the pout in her voice. Good thing she’s not trying to impress anyone. She’s going to be a yung-i, making a difference in the health of people who can’t afford a licensed physician. She couldn’t expect a husband to accept that, anyway. That’s been made clear enough. “She’s been trying to figure out who we know who could have written it.”

“That sounds like her.” He stands and stretches, and the room seems smaller when he takes up so much space. “You’re not curious at all?”

“I’m enjoying the book, but I don’t see what difference it would make.”

Obi hums, then strikes a pose. 

“For long years the forge’s child has lodged in my skin

The blade is gone but its furrow remains

Such small chances divides those who live and those who die

This wound crosses the old and ignites the memory

But the coolness of your hands douses the flames

If you had been there on the day it would have left no scar”

That seems somehow familiar- Shirayuki pages back in the book, and there it is, Jiaxiang’s response to Xue Ying’s bandaging his shoulder. “That was a good scene, when he told her she gave him a reason to live and she didn’t even realize- You memorized it?”

She leans back as Obi comes to stand by the edge of the bed-platform. The brush of his shoulder stirs the curtain, and just for a moment she can see him closing the curtains behind him, leaning down to join her on the bed-

She sits up quickly, startled at her own imagination, and the pin in her hair shifts. “Oh-”

She reaches up to secure the pin, only to find Obi had the same idea. Her hand brushes his, he pulls back as though her touch singed him, and the look on his face is so chagrined that she can’t just let him pull away.

She grabs his wrist.

This, at least, is something she knows. She may not have a reason, but she turns his hand gently over, three fingers just barely pressing against the pulse point. His heart beats wide and smooth and fast, healthy and perhaps a little surprised. She could press deeper, listen closer to what his body can tell her, but she is in no state to listen over the rioting of her own heart.

“My lady does not sway like the willow in the wind

but stands her ground against the strongest of storms

I step only where her feet have trod

yet the tips of her fingers are always beyond my reach

She holds out her pen to stay the sword

The smells of mint and medicine tangle in her hair

As rare and strong as hot spices

But life would be flavorless without her near”

His eyes never leave hers as he slips from her grasp. He collects his hat, moving with that fluid grace that always suggests the arch and stretch of a tiger at his leisure, and opens the door. “Until tomorrow,” he says. The drop in her stomach is nothing, the heat in her body only the product of suggestion, but her imagination is aflame. Even after the door closes, she stares after him.

She falls on the book like she’s starving, flipping through pages looking for the poem. It’s not one they have read, although it’s perfectly in Jiaxiang’s style. It has to mean something, but for it to so perfectly fit her, to encompass both the way she felt with his hand in hers and exactly what she’s heard all her life-

All too often men have made her feel like a subject of hunger: an apple, a pepper, nothing more than a meal to be enjoyed, consumed, and set aside. But the way he speaks of her is a different kind of desire.

He spoke of her as worth burning his mouth. Hers waters just thinking about him. Perhaps, if they were to do so together, that wouldn’t be so bad.

[batgirlsay]

Cold Like Winter

Vampire AU Playlist for Obiyuki AU Bingo 2022 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I used this AU as an excuse to make another Obi fall/winter themed playlist…

Started rearranging some fall/Halloween themed playlists and ended up with a story where vampire Obi falls for Shirayuki and has a lot of doubts about them being together. Eventually, after sharing his feelings, Shirayuki becomes the “final girl” and thinks about becoming a vampire too. The Anthony Green and Matt Pond songs fit perfectly for this theme!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green Your Ghost- The Decemberists Ghosting- Mother Mother The Haunting- Anberlin Halloween- Matt Pond PA Last Light- Matt Pond PA Final Girl- Chvrches

Summary lyrics are cited after the bonus vampire obi!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green

Anyone who walks down my path after it snows Will cover up their footprints

Anyone who walks through my door is already done for And if you walk a mile in my shoes, you'd never choose You'd never come back here

As far as I can tell, you never got it right And everyone I know is all but turned away Scattered in the dark

You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green

Faces of doubt Haunted by the memories of everything minus the bad stuff

Sorrow and all Don't tell me if you care, come alive with it, let it show And don't wistfully believe I would die for it

Your Ghost- The Decemberists

Along the old seawall Inside the banquet hall Below the cellar stair Maybe you'll find me there Your ghost

And at your final end When you are free again No longer long to be You will belong to me

Ghosting- Mother Mother

I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms When you're tossing, when you turn in your sleep It's because I'm ghosting your dreams

And this is why I have decided To pull these old white sheets from my head I'll leave them folded neat and tidy So that you'll know I'm out of hiding

I remember, I remember the days When I'd make you oh-so afraid

I will be kind and I'll be sweet If you stop staring straight through me

And this is why I have decided To leave your house and home unhaunted You don't need poltergeist for sidekicks You don't need treats and you don't need tricks

The Haunting- Anberlin

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house The wind makes this place creak, the lights they are flickering The moon she is lurking, the clock it stopped working At a quarter past three

There's something dancing here in the shadows And I wish it were us

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight

Can't get your memory, off of my mind Just want your heartbeat, on top of mine

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house Your spirit I can't see, but I still believe I can feel your breath on me

Halloween- Matt Pond PA

Went to where the people were on a Saturday night Seems like it always seems Where I go, I want to leave

I surprised myself as my mouth started speaking There is nothing left of my nerves As I lean over to ask her Pardon the intrusion Could we leave before it gets bad?

Last Light- Matt Pond PA

Night comes in and takes our light As we turn once again in the sun We don't have to drift out of sight But shadows will fall and run

Green turns gold and the gold turns green As we turn one more time past the sun Light like no one else has seen As the shadows will shift to none Yeah, they'll run, they will run, they will run As the day's last light soon is done

You thought it was your time To give into the endless night No, you were not right

Sky hangs heavy in the lowest light As the day slips down past the sun Black and blue in the forest green Shadows are gone, they have run

I can feel your hand let go of mine Drift you to where there isn't any light And I can never sleep enough, that's right Something makes me nervous 'bout the night

Final Girl- Chvrches

Keeping secrets until everything became a bit too loud

And it feels like the weight is too much to carry I should quit, maybe go get married Only time will tell

Don't want to find your daughter in a body bag So I need to get out now while most of me is still intact

In the final cut In the final scene There's a final girl Does she look like me?

[kpslp]

Under the Light of the Moon

The flames grow closer.

Warmth radiates beneath her bare feet causing her heart to spasm. Saying that she isn’t afraid of dying would be a lie, especially when it comes to the excruciating fate of being burned alive.

Wood digs into her spine with the slightest of movements. The rope cinched around her wrists makes it impossible to clear the hair obstructing her view of the crowd. Villagers jeer and pelt her with stone. Tears flow from her eyes and flood her cheeks.

There is no escape.

@snowwhite-andtheknight

[puffdragongirl]

There is No Such Thing as Ghosts (Hamefura AU)

Shirayuki should have known that no good would come from Professor Garrack’s invitation to visit the Magic Ministry.

The day begins much like any other at the Clarines Magic Academy. She heads for the garden early, hoping for a leisurely day in the garden tending to her “flowers” and stocking her always-dwindling supply of medical herbs. It is time to harvest some meadowsweet and the mint needs to be conquered before the next rainy day helps it succeed in its attempted takeover of the entire western part of the plot. She also needs to keep an eye on the calendula and echinacea – buds are bursting everywhere, and it was important to collect them for drying at their peak freshness. A second pair of hands is always useful during this part of the season, so it’s a good thing Obi has, as usual, accompanied her on her daily check of the garden.

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[snowwhite-andtheknight]

Obiyuki AU Bingo: Week 6 Round Up!

Fanfic

Not That Far At All, Chapter 3 by @ccprovolomies A Thread of Literature by @claudeng80 run to them full speed ahead by @kirayaykimura this is going to be one of those things by @kirayaykimura another op’nin, another show by @kirayaykimura climb on by @kirayaykimura ivy on the walls  by @obiyuki-beebs There is No Such Thing as Ghosts by @puffdragongirl A-Tisket, A-Tasket, Nettles in a Basketby @puffdragongirl The Opposite of Shame by @sabraeal