#politeness is dying sincerity is dying love is dying

[sidabro]

"its not possible to read your mind or the signals of distress that you put effort into hiding so how should i have known youre sad and want this or that" you couldntve, of course, and i didnt wish, thats exactly why i acted so beautifully a silence and neutrality, but its very funny that when youuuuu make your silences and answer coldly "im fine" even though by all visible and invisible signs you arent, you expect meeeee to be intuitive and get past the sacred rite of three denials (oh oh oh so forgotten, that people even call it fuckery to say "i didnt ask" "i cant possibly" and "but please, i dont deserve" when presented gifts or invited, BLET) to an inquiry so i can provide the help desired! Ouuu, how super, "you said youre okay and i didnt want to push your boundaries by asking you further" ouuuu but lest i dont push and nudge you resent! What beautiful conditions that are with all humans, the desire to be cared for so much about, that they know to ignore a fake moat around your castle, they know that its mission and gladness to tear the walls you built, to lockpick the chest of your soul! You build all this searching for who will want to break it despite its resistance, well, naturally, as per the terms and conditions of being th soul of the narcisit creation thats a human! Well fuck you to hell it goes both ways..

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hiiiii could you do a fic where reader is pregnant for the first time? I need more soft!young president coriolanus so so bad

Soft as Snow || Young President!Coriolanus snow x reader

A/n: thank you for this request anon!! I need more soft coryo too 🥹

Warnings: fem!reader, mention of death

Wc: 860

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the opulent sun room of the presidential mansion that you call your home, you sat in a plush chair with a bowl of fresh lychee perched carefully on your pregnant belly. The brightly lit room, adorned with decadent furnishings, seemed to reflect the weight of the world you carried not only as the First Lady but also as a soon-to-be-mother.

The door cracked open and Coriolanus entered with an air of authority that seemed to dissipate as he laid eyes on you, his precious wife. Coryo gestured the servants to leave the two of you alone as his steely gaze softened, and a small, genuine smile graced his lips as he approached.

"May I?" he gestured toward the empty space on the chair beside you. You nodded with an eager smile and he took a seat, his eyes fixed on your protruding belly which was covered by the softness of your silk dress. Gently, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "How are you feeling, my love?"

His voice, usually reserved and commanding to people outside of his inner circle, held a tenderness and softness that sent a comforting shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in his question.

"I'm well, Coryo. Our baby seems to be quite content by these lychees," You chuckle as your rub your stomach. Coryo smiles, lychees were a rare fruit to come by this time of year but he made sure that you were fed only the most juiciest, ripe, lychees.

"I'm glad," he hums. His hand finds its way to your belly, fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of your dress, ghosting over your skin underneath. "It's a remarkable thing, life," he mused, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—awe, anticipation, and a hint of vulnerability.

You watch him knowing where his mind was at. The thought of his mother dying during birth along with his baby sister. You knew that he was scared. Scared that maybe you would have the same fate as his late mother. But you assured Coryo, that times have changed and that you would be alright.

The weight of his responsibilities seemed to momentarily fade as he focused on you and the life growing inside you. Your fingers dipped into the fruit bowl, a lychee in between your fingers as you bring it to your lips, Coriolanus watching with fascination. The atmosphere hung in a delicate balance, as if time itself had slowed down to savour this tranquil interlude.

"Have you thought about names," he asked, breaking the silence. You chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the room, "I have actually. Vicky," you watch Snow's features contort into a mixture of emotions.

"Vicky. like my mothers-" "Yes, like your mother's name." You interrupt him as your thumb brushes over the back of his hand, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes. "I love it. Vicky Snow," He says with a smile on his face.

As you continued to share the bowl of fruit, the conversation drifted from politics to dreams, hopes and the shared future that awaited your family. Coriolanus, a man known for his strategic mind and politics, revealed a more vulnerable side, a side reserved for you, his wife carrying his child.

Time slipped away, and the room glowered in the soft hues of twilight. Coriolanus stood, his eyes lingering on you with an affectionate gaze. "I've got state matters to deal with, my dear. Just know, you and our child are always on my mind."

~

Days turned into weeks, and the swell of your belly grew more pronounced. The Capitol buzzed with excitement over the impending arrival of the newest member of the Snow legacy. Coriolanus, ever the stoic leader, became a pillar of support, attending to your needs with a grace that contradicted his ruthless reputation.

One evening, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Capitol, he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting protectively on your belly. The lights of the city below shimmered like a sea of stars, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused to witness the union of power and vulnerability.

As the days dwindled down to the eagerly anticipated arrival, Coriolanus stood by your side, a beacon of strength. The birthing room, stark and sterile, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol. Yet, in that space, you found an intimacy that transcended the political stage.

The first cry of your newborn filled the room, and Coriolanus held the tiny bundle in his arms with a reverence that bordered on awe. His usually composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by the unfiltered joy of fatherhood.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mother," He whispers, his eyes never leaving the small face nestled in his arms. "Thank you, thank you for gifting me a gift beyond measure," Coryo looks at you as you couldn't help but let a teardrop roll down your cheek as you gazed at the future you had brought into the word.

You couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that had blossomed in the heart of the Capitol's calculated power.

[gothamhappiness]

Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Meeting him (part I)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

You can find the reader's origin story here.

Warnings: no proof reading, eat the rich baby kind of vibes, reader is uncomfortable at first, not impressed!reader, language, deep down Bruce is the kind of guy who likes to be bullied by a pretty girl

When your boss picked you to go to Bruce Wayne’s charity gala, your first thought had been: “Oh I’m going to be such a little nuisance!”.

It was only when you started to wonder how to dress, that you realised that the event was actually being a nuisance for you. You took so much time trying to decide what to put on, what kind of makeup and hairstyle to do. You knew appearances were important, and you didn’t want to be at your disadvantage in such a place.

And yet, even if you had put on your best dress, your best shoes and your favourite jewels that your grandma gave you right before her death, you felt… cheap.

You were clearly out of place and you knew that people were looking at you from the corner of their eyes. You were getting uncomfortable. But you went to Falcone’s events when you were a child and you knew one thing: when you are among vultures, you can show no weakness. So you tried to keep you back straight and to look like you were doing great. There was no way you would give the joy to all those rich assholes to make you run away. It was only fueling your hate against them. 

You had thought you were going to eat and drink well at this gala, but all this money disgusted you too much to actually enjoy yourself. You saw too many people dying from hunger in the streets to be able to bear any of this. 

You were looking around, taking mental notes of everything before you felt a presence behind you. You turned around and were greeted by a tall and broad man, wearing the nicest suit you ever witnessed. He gently smiled at you but you saw it didn’t fully reach his eyes. It was just a polite act. You instantly recognised the dark hair and the blue eyes. You hadn’t thought Bruce Wayne was that big though. 

It didn’t mean you were impressed. 

Not one bit. 

The man seemed to observe you with interest - probably because you weren’t all over him at the instant you saw him - before extending his hand for you to shake.

“Good evening, you must be Mrs L/N.” he kept smiling

“Indeed, Mr. Wayne. I guess it wasn’t very difficult to spot me in this crowd” you said as you shook his hand politely. 

“What do you mean?” he asked

“Oh don’t pretend, I know I’m not dressed as nicely as your usual guests.” you replied.

You perceive a little glitter of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Bruce Wayne was probably not used to being talked to like that, especially from women. But you weren’t afraid or impressed by anyone. How could you when your past was full of dangerous people? Bruce Wayne seemed to think of a proper reply before deciding to be honest and he nodded his head.

“I’m grateful your newspaper agreed to send someone. I know you do not have a very good opinion of me, which I absolutely respect. I’ve read the paper you wrote about me last week, about the fact that my company took part in the destruction of the Amazonian forest and in child labour in poor countries. It was truly an impressive work of research and I’m thankful you saw it, wrote about it and published it. I had been too busy with different projects to realise any of this was happening. I would have appreciated it if you had let me know first hand though.” he told you to which you raised an eyebrow

“And? Did anything change?” you replied

“Indeed. I want to let you know that all of this stopped and that I’m doing everything I can do to repair the bad my company caused. It won’t happen again. I promise.” He said and you could tell he was sincere or at least trying to sound like he was.

“Good. At least you take responsibility. And if anything else happens again, I’ll be there to make sure you do know about it.” you hummed which cause the ghost of an amused smile to appear on Bruce’s face

“I don’t worry about it indeed.” he paused. “By the way, you write very well. I’m glad to be able to put a face on such… sharp and true words” he added, and you let him show how surprised you were

“People don’t usually like my sharp words” you shrugged but you were yourself getting quite curious about the man now.

“It did hurt quite a bit but… I wish that my spokesperson would write that well. Or that I would myself have such a way with words. At least it helped me to see the truth and… Well it was quite refreshing. People don’t usually talk about me that way, or just about my last nightstand.” he explained

“Oh yes, don’t worry, I really don’t care with whom you slept last night as long as you didn’t abuse or rape them” you smiled and Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened before he let out a very amused laughter.

“I didn’t think your words were also that sharp in person” he commented “Do you want us to go somewhere else a little less noisy so you could do the interview you had prepared?” he offered to which you agreed.

On one hand, you were surprised with how the evening went by.

Your first disgust for the man started to change into real curiosity. You were still unimpressed by him, but you could tell there was something more than just the rich philanthropist playboy act. Bruce Wayne had secrets. But unlike usual people, you didn’t seem to be able to find a way for him to spill them for you. Something was unsettling about him. You wanted to discover so badly what was going on; you were a curious cat.

On the other hand, Bruce Wayne quickly understood that not only were you good with words, you were also good at asking the right questions. More than once, he was about to let go of his “Brucie” persona because of how smart your interrogations about him or his enterprises were. At some point, you were even met by silence because the man had no idea how to answer your question about all the “toys” that Wayne Enterprises was producing and yet never let the army, the police or the government use. Actually, you were wondering who was buying those equipments and why it was so difficult to find who it was. Bruce asked you how you knew about this and you let him know you dug into his financial reports. 

His silence was a challenge for you. 

As the discussion kept going on, you realised you now wanted to know everything about the man, his real personality and all his secrets. The persona he was using in public was pure bullshit. You might have rolled your eyes at him once or twice.

Bruce tried his best to not react, but deep down he had no idea what to do. He had thought it was going to be an easy interview and that once he would have you sit down with him alone, he would have been able to manipulate you, so you could finally write something nice about him. He realised he had never been more wrong in his whole life. He also realised that the more he was feeding you his usual answers to journalists, the more you were pressing the subjects. He just couldn’t make you believe him and his sweet little lies. He couldn’t charm you either. Bruce could also tell that his attitude got the exact opposite reaction he wanted from you. He wanted you to relax around him, but as time passed, the more you were eyeing him as if you were certain that he was a lot darker and a lot more dangerous than he wanted everyone to believe.

Bruce hated to admit it but he found you incredibly attractive. 

Of course you were beautiful, but you were also so smart and observant. You were ruthless to him, in a polite manner which was even worse. You were merciless; you were asking the questions you had to ask, without care for his ego. He didn’t know if he should ask you out on a date or ask you to work for him. At some point, he managed to finally say something that made you laugh (it was a self derogatory comment) and he decided on the first option. 

A part of his mind knew he was playing with fire with you. Still, he asked you out. 

You thought about refusing at first, but then agreed. You needed to know what the great Bruce Wayne was hiding. For you, it wasn’t a “real” date, it was just part of your work.

At the end of the interview, you were more than happy to come back home, your head full of new theories about the man.

Alfred joined Bruce, surprised his master was still sitting down fifteen minutes after your departure.

“How did it go, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked

“Awfully” Bruce replied “Asked her out though, and she said yes” he added

“I’m not too certain if that’s a good thing or not, Master Bruce” Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow

“I don’t know either” Bruce hummed

Bruce Wayne fell asleep that night, wondering what the fuck happened tonight and wondering why he was so excited to see you again.

--

PART 2

--

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@esposadomd

[zorosbeau33]

Courting Gifts~ One Piece Omegaverse Headcanon Part 1!

Starring: Ace and Luffy! x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, sfw AU: Omegaverse, Omega Reader Wc: 1180 TW: Mentions of battle Masterlist~ Part 2~ Is ready! Thank you everyone for all your support! All characters involved in this fic are legal age or older in my au hope you enjoy!

This Goofy goofball knows exactly how to court. He gives me soft alpha/strong beta vibes. And he learned from Makino the ways to court long ago.

HOWEVER that being said, he also likes making you laugh. Courting gifts when it was just a crush were often goofy and maybe small inside jokes, or even mini pranks. 

Like a cupcake with sour flavored icing, still good but not at all what you were expecting. Boy did he giggle and laugh when your face puckered up with confusion.

Once he realizes these feelings are here to stay, or if you take initiative and heavily hint or gift him something. Then he gets sincere and downright smitten and soft

I hope you like the color orange, because he thinks you look so cute in the fuzzy luxury fur blanket with orange silk lining. Yes the fur has been dyed orange to match as well and you stick out like a sore thumb on this winter island but you're warm!

He is much more of a simple gift kinda guy, first sign is him not just sharing his food with you but getting a plate and filling it for you before looking after himself. 

He long ago memorized your favorite food 

He uses his devil fruit as a gift for you as well…yes in his mind warm hugs or warm handed deep tissue massages count as courting gifts. They're a promise from him to you he will take care of you forever if you allow him.

He has never understood collecting shiny rocks, seashells, and the like…until now. Something about courting makes every exceptional seashell and rock extra special now and if he thinks theyre pretty he will pocket them to give to you later.

“The way it shined reminded me of your eyes/smile”

He's much more of a physical show rather than buying gifts. So his presents may not be noticed immediately.

Giving you rides in his flame boat (he has to carry you so his flames dont set you on fire and boy does he love carrying you now)

Insisting on being the one to be paired up with you for anything and everything. From crew game night, to exploration parties, to mission assignments, even to his previously hated cleaning duties. 

Soft touches, on your waist, your hand. To help you get across a large gap (if he doesn't just pick you up). To reassure you if you’re expressing a moment of doubt/trouble. When he thinks your smile is especially bright and he just needs to touch your cheek to ensure you’re real.

 Or to push you behind him in times of danger or conflict, yes you can take care of yourself BUT he wants to be your support and fighter. He is first to cheer you on in a fight, but if he can prevent a needless dangerous encounter he will put himself in front so any animosity is directed at him not you.

When he realizes you might want clothes, or scented items he goes to Marco.

He understands the process, he gets how to scent something. However he wants his brother figure and the very honest bestie to help him judge which ones are best. He doesn’t want to over scent something and have it be oppressive. And he knows he’s rough on clothes so he’s making sure the things he’s giving you are good quality still so they’ll last as long as you want to keep them.

He also gives you a nickname, you’ve always had one but it was more of a teasing best friend kind of thing. Suddenly you have a much more dignified and polite nickname…its also a very classic 50’s romance sort of nickname like Doll, or Pumpkin, or Kitten…or Angel

Okay he’s alpha, if that wasn’t evident from his emperors haki and being captain etc 

Unlike his brother he is dumb…very dumb. Has never cared about courting a day before in his life. Used to say “EW” and stick out his tongue (even at 16)

He doesn’t even realize at first that the things he is doing is courting when he first starts. Probably because he doesn’t realize at first that he has feelings for you.

Robin did from day one, Zoro did maybe the first week, Sanji had suspicions too after a month or so, and the others later feel like they should have seen it coming since he constantly talked about how mouth-watering you smelled and loved to cling around you and just burrow in your neck to snuffle you. He learned not to nip when Nami yelled at him for it the first day he met you. Like I said the others feel they should have seen this sooner.

Giving you bits of his food, scenting you, constantly asking to hold your hand, and giving you every single cool thing he sees for you to “keep safe” but if you try to give them back he’d “no thanks you keep them!” then laugh and bounce off

Unlike what anyone would have expected Luffy figures out his emotions for you very quickly. It didn’t take Robins hints to him, he knew after you all finally got in a large altercation together against the world government or some pirates. He was always protective of his nakama, but before the enemy could land the devastating blow to your back in the battle. Luffy was screaming in rage. Bounding across the battlefield to you to protect HIS friend. His…ohhh…

He talked to Robin and Nami, they advised him on courting and how to make you his. He only grasped 30% but he’s trying

He would make the ship go broke in order to buy you every cool thing, or every soft nesting thing, or all the food you could eat. 

The king of bringing you random plucked wildflowers (several have been confiscated by Chopper as they were poisonous plants, Luffys eye for weird things haven gotten the best of him)

They're messy but he learns to make flower crowns for you both to wear. Talks about making them for your future kids

He didn’t used to own much clothing, but now he is expanding his wardrobe just so he can have more things that smell like him to wrap you up in.

You have exclusive hat permission, don’t abuse it but if you ever ask him, he does not mind putting it on your head for a while

He thinks you look so good in it too, makes him puff up his chest and yell to the world how awesome you are.

He has bought you one very nice present, one he had to work his butt off to get. Literally, Nami made him get a job on an island to pay for it and he was actually sincere while working there (sorry Baratie). 

It's a unisex gold bangle bracelet with a red ruby with your and his initials engraved in the gold along with the date you joined his crew (because yes he remembers the date perfectly)

[hiraethwa]

to be loved is to be known

zero; i was made for loving you // from a distance

<the collection — to be loved is to be known>

pairing. kageyama x reader

cw. angst to fluff, timeskip, setter!reader, one-sided pining, blasphemy, soon to be married and then divorced!reader, not very canon timeline compliant if you squint

wc. ~600

lucky is to have you. lucky is something i am not.

kageyama tobio thinks he must be born cursed. that or the gods just enjoy playing cruel pranks on him to see him flounder about and suffer as he flits around in the palm of their hands. 

because how else would one explain missing the person who he’s been waiting for by years, not just once, but twice? he swallows the feeling that is bubbling up in his throat as he watches you give him a thumbs up on the sidelines, eyes catching onto the glint of gold on your finger. 

yeah, he decides bitterly, they must be toying me for their own amusement. 

he remembers the first time he met you as clear as day, introduced by kuroo tetsuro—the gods-favored one who had been blessed not only to have the fortune of meeting you first, but also managing to claim your heart as his in the process. 

he had seen you in passing a handful of times, heard of your name on the same stage as him, your names endlessly intertwined together. as if you were two sides of the same coin despite never having properly interacted before. 

if he was being honest, he had been mildly irked at the constant comparison. the articles, doing their analysis of “genius setter kageyama tobio vs strategic setter oumae y/n”, goes on and on about your technical prowess (which is almost on par with him) and your strategic plays (purportedly better than his own), all concluding with a question—will you surpass him as japan’s best setter? 

not to mention, you are the people’s darling, all smiles and sunshine, even-tempered and ever so delightful to be around, unlike the storm that accompanies him whenever he is off court. 

though when kuroo-san personally requested for his help, he found his own curiosity piqued. considering that he is indebted to kuroo-san for all that he had done to help karasuno grow into their wings years ago, how could he reject his request?

besides, kageyama had his own questions for you. he found himself looking up replays of your games on youtube after going to one of your matches with hinata and his younger sister, mesmerized by your skills as a setter. despite the minor annoyance he had with the media, he quickly came to agree with their shallow assessment.

“oumae y/n, nice to meet you.” your words were polite, that dazzling smile that wins everyone over to your side making its first appearance. “i’ve been dying to meet you since i saw you play a couple of years ago. your precise sets are a work of art, and i’m sure you’ve been told this, your serves are godly.”

somehow you almost, almost remind him of oikawa tooru, if not for the sincerity behind your words, the stark contrast to oikawa-san’s habitual disingenuous tone. 

despite himself, a faint smile made its way onto his face—one of many, many more that you will pull out of him in time. 

“i’ve heard some things, but godly, that’s a first.” and you had fucking beamed at him like a bright sunny day, like a fan meeting their idol for the first time. he supposes that it was exactly that, if you had been following him for a while. 

you went on to pepper him with questions about his serve, showing him how you do it, and asking him to correct your form.

he wishes he could chalk it all up to falling in love at first sight. at least then he would have been able to blame it all on illogical emotions that do not have a basis for why he fell for someone who is taken. 

but the gods do not favor kageyama tobio, for they curse him so, bestowing the fate of koi no yokan upon him—what was supposed to be a magical feeling of knowing that you are meant to fall for them inevitably, with a cruel twist just for him. 

and he knows, fuck the gods, he knows more than senses the light flutter of his dormant heart awakening to you. 

taglist. @hatsukeii @daisy-room @soulfullystarry @kitsune-kita @bakery-anon (open! ask for taglist)

a/n. might have lost my mind writing lovesick tobio but it was worth it <3

awaiting updates? browse the library while waiting

if you liked this, please consider leaving a like, comment, rb or ask <3 (perhaps i enjoy hearing about how i break hearts a little too much)

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die. 

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm. 

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets. 

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?” 

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state. 

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.” 

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.” 

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter. 

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?” 

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-” 

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.” 

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.” 

[ghcstao3]

what about werewolf!ghost x vampire!soap 👀

hope you don’t mind me using the occasion to revive the rileys for an awkward family dinner

-

Being brought home to meet Ghost’s family is probably one of the more interesting moments of Soap’s (unbearably long) life.

And not only because he’s never properly dated someone as long as he has Ghost before—it’s also because said family isn’t human, and is more than aware of the fact that he drinks blood to keep himself alive.

So. Interesting is where he stands.

Soap is lured in with a false sense of security from two things—the first being Ghost’s insistence that his mother, brother, and sister-in-law are all nicer than him. The second being the warm smile Mrs. Riley offers him at the front door, entirely friendly and sincere, not like the brandishing of sharp canines that Ghost has flashed Soap with once or twice.

She’s pleasant to talk with, already siding with him when it comes to her son’s tendencies, and she even goes so far as to pour him a glass of pig’s blood she’d purchased just for the occasion. And being that it’s so nice, Soap doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he can only tolerate the stuff at best, especially now that he only ever takes from a specific source these days.

It’s through this lovely conversation with Ghost’s mum and the general sense of domesticity that has Soap believing that he shouldn’t encounter any problems when Beth and Tommy arrive.

But how wrong he was.

Beth at least tries to be polite, though Soap doesn’t miss the distasteful scrunch of her nose once she obviously catches scent of what Ghost so lovingly calls the wrongness of vampirism. Tommy, on the other hand, doesn’t so much as bother trying to hide his disdain.

(Thank God Soap finds out later that it’s mostly just the whole protective older brother act, but still. It hurts Soap’s feelings, just a bit.)

Dinner is absolutely stifling when all but Soap are eating what Ghost’s mum has made, all chatter dying off much too quickly in what little bouts Ghost, of all people, tries to initiate. Soap traces his finger around the rim of his barely-touched glass all while he tries to ignore Tommy’s pointed looks like Soap had done something to personally offend him.

Maybe he had.

“You’re sure about this, Simon?” Tommy eventually, finally asks after nothing but pressing silence. Though the question is asked to Soap’s left, he still feels golden eyes near identical to Ghost’s bearing down on him.

Ghost drops his fork onto his plate, his frustration palpable, emanating in waves. “Do you have to be such a prick, Tom?”

“Boys,” Mrs. Riley scolds from her end of the table. “We have a guest.”

“Yeah, and that guest’s a vampire, Mum,” Tommy spits, throwing out his hand in gesture to Soap. “He eats people.”

“Tom,” Beth hisses.

“Common misconception,” Soap mumbles. He feels all attention shift to him, as if they all remembered he was present—right, super-hearing. He clears his throat, raising his voice, “Only the… bad ones do that.”

“Besides,” Ghost is adding, and Soap is a little fearful of where he plans to take this, “he only feeds off me.”

A tense silence blankets the table. Soap wants to sink into the floor.

“…What?”

“It was my idea,” Ghost attempts to amend, but it’s already much too late. This is already a disaster, beyond disaster, and maybe Soap should’ve stuck to his guns about not meeting a family of werewolves as a vampire.

“Doesn’t matter, Simon!” Tommy exclaims his disbelief.

Ghost rolls his eyes. Soap had not at all imagined this to be where the night would lead. It’s what he desperately wished wouldn’t happen. Because he loves Ghost, and Ghost loves his family—so Soap had felt he needed to be in their good graces.

There goes that idea.

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t trust him, Tommy,” Ghost says slowly, challenging. “Is how I feel about him not good enough?”

This finally seems to stun Tommy into some form of submission. Soap doesn't miss Beth reaching out to flick Tommy's ear.

"S'pose it is," Tommy grumbles.

"Good." Ghost sits back in his chair, and resumes eating with a smug self-satisfaction poised in his broad shoulders.

There's a kick under the table delivered to Tommy, though Soap can't tell by who. He only knows its recipient by the muttered sorry, John, that follows.

Soap supposes he can be content with that for now. He gives Tommy a close-lipped smile, fearing that any show of fangs might provoke him.

All things considered, things could be worse. Even his military training wouldn't give him a considerable upper-hand against a natural-born werewolf.

He'll have to talk to Ghost about it later. Maybe when the werewolf is shifted, and Soap can dig cold fingers through thick fur. Then again another time, when Ghost can respond with more than huffs and whines and low growls.

They'll figure it out—they've already done it once before with just each other.

But they definitely have to smooth things over sooner rather than later, or else it's going to be real awkward when Soap finally gets the courage to pull out the ring that's been weighing his pocket down for little over a month, now.

It's fine. Everything will be fine. Soap can manage interesting.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

I don't think I've ever seen this particular meet up around, and if you've written something like this please kindly point me to it, but...

I'm dying to know. How would Legacy react to the other Harbingers?

We kinda know Ajax's opinion on them from voice lines, but I really wanna know what Moth TM thinks

And, if you wanna go the sagau route too, how would he feel being in a Harbinger only team? (Aka Childe, Scara/Wanderer and Arlecchino, in the present moment, but let's pretend we have a fourth one of them already)

hoohoohoo i got you, this is going to be a long one so bear with me mothlings!!

Director: Pierro is suspicious to Foul Legacy, he smells like the Abyss, yet not. the stars in his eyes match the ones in Legacy's glittering wings, but their light is from Teyvat, not the otherworldly glow from beneath this land. Legacy doesn't like it, the feel of being so close to home but with something obviously wrong that he simply can't put his claw on

First: Capitano is a pillar of strength, someone both Childe and Foul Legacy admire wholeheartedly- but Legacy also sees his nobility, the way he treats even his lowest level agents with respect. he aspires to be like that one day, someone people can look up to and expect kindness in return, so even Foul Legacy will give the First Harbinger a small, polite bow

Second: Legacy detests Dottore with all of his heart. not only does Childe have younger siblings, but Dottore has also attempted to rope him into experiments on his Abyssal half. Foul Legacy hates being treated like a thing, like just a feral animal, and that's not even mentioning what he fears the Doctor could do to you. Childe has to hold him back from growling viciously whenever he passes Dottore in the hall

Third: Columbina is strange, but Legacy is also strange! she's unsettling, yes, but she never tries to harm him or Childe- unless the latter riles her up enough to fight. sometimes when Foul Legacy is particularly homesick for you, nations away from Snezhnaya, he'll listen to her eerie singing as she sits nearby, not paying him any mind at all

Fourth: Legacy regards Arlecchino with both fear and respect. she's cordial enough, keeping her operations quiet and training her children to be the next set of Fatui soldiers, much like how Ajax became Tartaglia. the Knave terrifies Foul Legacy with her calm ruthlessness, but as long as she doesn't raise a finger towards you, he won't do anything

Fifth: Pulcinella is a curious case, treating Childe like a grandson and regarding his Abyssal half with kindness as well. it's a welcome change, and yet... Legacy can't help but feel like he isn't completely sincere. there's the barest undertone of a lie when he tells Childe about the other Harbingers, and Legacy watches the information with a care, suspicious eye

Sixth: ERROR. DATA NOT FOUND.

Seventh: Childe doesn't get the chance to interact with Sandrone that often, so neither does Foul Legacy. but he's very curious about what she does, always tinkering away in her lab- it's less foreboding than Dottore's set of rooms, at least. once she begrudgingly allowed him to watch her work, and needless to say her robots consider Foul Legacy their friend now

Eighth: Signora wasn't Childe or Legacy's favorite coworker when she was alive- they're not happy that she's dead, but it is somewhat of a relief to not have Childe bite his tongue with a vengeance whenever some snide comment slipped from her mouth. still, Legacy almost wishes he knew a bit more, having seen her stare longingly out the window at the silent snow all too often- he knows that longing. it's the type he feels when he misses you

Ninth: Legacy doesn't know much about Pantalone, apart from his love of wealth. he's an elegant man, to be sure, someone who can simultaneously keep his composure while also being entirely condescending. but Childe has a habit of buying you trinkets and gifts during his travels, so he's still grateful for the funds the Regrator provides

Tenth: ???

Foul Legacy wouldn't mind being in a team with other Harbingers- he knows they can't hurt him, at least not directly, and it seems to make the Creator so happy. he basks in your warm words, your loving attention, purring happily whenever he hears your sweet voice praise him- but only when his teammates aren't watching. he just knows that the Wanderer, mysterious as he is, will mock him for it, and Arlecchino always seems to know what's going on even when she's not present. his fourth teammate always seems to switch; he likes it best when it's Sandrone or Capitano. Legacy knows how the rest of them feel, though, how the Wanderer lowers his hat or how Arlecchino's lips quirk when they hear your compliments- the Creator has the adoration of them all

[lexluvswriting]

ꔫ L'autunno.

ꔫ Ch: 5 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, no specific time in storyline except it's after Amarantha.

-> (TW): um… you guys now like each other ig. KIDDING! romance, pining, Eris opens up a bit, and so do you!! and you both kinda chill and it’s really fluffy.

W/C: 4.4k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: um… hey… me again. i promise i'll sincerely apologising for neglecting you all, but pls accept this fat, juicy peace offering <3 i love a male who has to yearn! as i always say: “to earn the puss, you must yearn the puss” (i only thought of this now, at 12:02 a.m.)

Your eyes widened, a laugh of disbelief leaving your lips as you shook your head, stepping back from him- to prevent from shaking him or kissing him again, you weren’t entirely sure.

“No. No! Absolutely not- Have you not listened to a word I’ve said?”

“Of course I have, and I meant everything I said- and did.” He tried to meet your gaze as you stubbornly looked away, trying to gather your bearings from what the hells had just occurred. He let out a breath, stepping forward with his palms exposed in what looked to be a placating gesture.

“You, my dear, are a radical.”

Your brow raised,

“A revolutionary,” He tried again.

“I don’t think that’s what it-”

His hand grabbed your face easily, as if it fit like a missing piece in his hand, and squished your cheeks to stifle your flat reply,

“Just… Listen to me. Brains like yours cannot be wasted in some- some shoddy little apartment complex. People like you- People with your sense of courage,” He amended after a not-so-silent silent look from you, “Are exactly what I need for when I become High Lord.”

“Huh?” Your eyes bugged out of your head as you finally pulled his hand away from your mouth, too distracted by his sudden shift of thought to even think of walloping him. Since when did you sign up to some lordling’s political campaign?

“You’d be absolutely perfect to meet the High Lord. Granted, your bedside manners need a bit of work, but you could really stir him up-” Eris kept pushing the topic, and your mind raced. 

“Eris! We- I… Alright, listen!” You held a hand up in case he wanted to interject, “Look, your strange, spontaneous agenda means nothing right now, not when you just- You just-” You gestured between you and him, and he rolled his eyes, as if you were the crazy one.

“Here we go.” He sighed, leaning against a nearby tree, watching you with a look that made you want to throttle him.

“Oh, ‘here I go’- You kissed me, Eris!”

“Darling, there are people dying-”

“With no warning?! No context?! Nothing!” And it was a damn good kiss too- weirdly enough.

“Yes, darling, I did. I don’t regret it currently, but I’m starting to think I should.” His tone was dry and amused, yet that same fire stayed in his eyes- like infant embers, waiting for more firewood. You faltered for a reply, before grabbing his arm and pulling him back to you as if he was some sort of doll.

“Hey!” Were you overreacting?! Were you just going insane? Yes, that must be it. Being with this absolute idiot must be making you lose your sanity- and you certainly told him as much. He simply snickered at your tangent, shaking his head.

“You almost had me beat, darling. I figured I’d find a way to settle the score.” The heir shrugged, making you growl softly as his trademark smugness surfaced again.

“No, Eris! It was strange! It was strange, and spontaneous and- You can’t just do that!” You argued, making the Vanserra male shake his head as he grabbed your face again with two hands to cup, looking into your eyes with a look that you swore held fondness amongst the blatant amusement.

“See what I mean? You work yourself up. You’re hardly a swan- more a headless chicken.” He mused, making you pause, looking up at him as you tried to decide whether to kiss him again or smack him- hard.

“Stop avoiding the subject-” You opted to grab his wrist, removing his grip on you, but keeping him close in case you changed your mind on not smacking him.

“First of all: I am meeting your father at the Equinox ball solely because you invited me to perform. End of discussion.” You affirmed, and Eris sighed in mock defeat, waving a hand dismissively.

“Next: are we going to talk about how you completely blacked out on me?”

At the mention of his flashback, he tensed slightly, jaw setting before shaking his head, wanting to pull away.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“None of my concern?” Your grip tightened around his hands stubbornly, “You looked unwell. Visibly. I couldn’t just ignore that-” You scolded like a worried parent almost, glaring up at him as you did so. He looked at you after you brought it up, his eyes narrowing slyly. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“And why, little swan, did you feel the need to be so kind? I thought you were supposed to have a severe ‘distaste’ for me.” He pushed it back on you, making you groan. Why did he have to be so wily and infuriating?

“Because I- I… Well, I’m not a bloody monster.” You replied hotly, cheeks warming as you glared at him, taking a moment to recompose before you fixed him with a stern scowl, squeezing his hands to prompt his attention.

“Look- I agreed to accompany you, and do whatever is required for the Equinox, yes. But we aren’t lovers, or casual bedtime partners for you to just use-”

“I have enough of those already, my dear, but thank you for the offer.” He flashed a canine in a smug grin, proud of his stupid humour, before your snarl made it fall back into a still smug smirk instead. You stepped into his personal space, grabbing him by the collar of his fancy shirt and pulling him to your eye level,

“I’m being serious! I am not some sort of toy you can reach for whenever you feel vulnerable, Eris.” 

You snapped, irritated at how badly that kiss had flustered you, rocking you off balance emotionally. His eyebrow raised at your assertion of the boundary, and he blinked slowly as if considering your blatant irritation, before his eyes trickled down to where your lips waited. Something must have flipped within when he kissed you, because you caught yourself wondering for a moment if he’d bridge the gap again.

Cauldron above, that kiss had practically ruined you.

That, or maybe, it was because you barely allowed yourself to get close to anyone beyond casual unions in the night, rendering you sorely touch-starved.

But you could not lie to yourself and deny that, in the moment, the way he held you- as if you were porcelain- the way his eyes softened- before kissing you so gently as if you were something sacred- hadn’t made you feel things you hadn’t felt in possibly ever.

“Get distracted, darling?” He caught the way you fell silent and hummed, before looking at the way you clutched the lapels of his jacket, reminding you that you were still holding onto him.

“You know, for someone so adamant on disliking me, you’re quite content to keep your hands on me.” 

“Yes, because you were- you are- acting like a damned child! I’m trying to talk to you about something important and you keep interrupting, or finding ways to distract me.”

Eris sighed, tilting his head to either side as he stretched his neck lazily, before smirking down at you.

“What a charming little wife you’d make. Nag in the morning, nag at night... How endearing. I pity the male who falls victim to you.” He hummed, prompting a soft huff as you rolled your eyes again.

“Oh, go off and fuck yourself-”

“Only when you’re watching, swan.” He winked, before adjusting his jacket and shirt once you stepped back to create a safer distance again, and sighed as you did not indulge him in more fiery banter.

“Fine, fine. I’ll address your concerns, since I do enjoy helping my citizens.” He drawled, catching your hand before it whacked him and tutting. He looked at you, as if he was trying to figure out how to handle you, before deciding to twirl you around and dip you, soliciting a squeak as your body aimlessly bent to his will.

“Number one: I kissed you because I wanted to. Granted, perhaps I should have asked, but I’d rather not have you bite my head off,”

You could feel blood rush around your body as your cheeks heated, and you became painfully aware of the way he held your wrist gently, and his other hand which had planted itself comfortably against the small of your back,

 “Number two: I… went ‘distant’, as you say, because I had a bitter memory of my father beating my mother the way he usually does, and I’ve realised it kills me a bit more each day I do not interfere. I mean, having the constant attention from everyone in the Court always being on you… having such high expectations placed? It’s utterly exhausting.” He huffed, as if he was talking about the weather, or the price of pumpkins at the markets. On the other hand, your eyes widened, your jaw dropped- bewildered by his casual delivery, but he shushed softly,

“Uh-uh, focus, darling,” He shook his auburn head, as if he didn’t want you to speak, “And number three: I am insisting on you meeting my father, because I-”

“Wait-”

“Because,” He tried again, “I do believe that, upon hearing of your unexpectedly high intelligence and combining that with your thorough contempt for him, it could mean that he will either get so offended at your criticisms and combust from the rage, or have a heart attack late in the night from stewing on your brazen audacity alone, which speeds up the process for me and makes my life easier.”

Your mind was convoluted with certain words of his that paralysed you with absolute shock- your eyes widening as you looked up at him with alarm, with shock- with concern.

“Hold on- I’m sorry-”

“Forgiven,”

“Did you just say the High Lord hits his wife?” A chill went through you as you asked it, already having your answer as he went rigid, eyes darkening for a split second, before he righted you on your own two feet with a scoff, adjusting his sleeves.

“Really? That was the part you paid attention to?”

“Eris?!” His only response to you was a sigh before he escorted you up the hill again.

--- ⋆⁺���✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

You two returned to where your picnic had been, where there had been tea waiting, and talking.

A lot of talking.

Eris Vanserra, pompous prick and heir to the Autumn Court, had come clean with a lot of information you thought you’d never become privy to. Yet what bewildered you more was how horrible you felt about it. All of it, including your treatment of him. Your expression had never changed from the slightly stunned one, from the moment he started talking to the moment he finished explaining, and he snickered half-heartedly at your gaping face.

“Careful, darling. If you look at me like that, it might lead me to believe you care.” His smile was wry, yet his eyes watched you with a careful understanding, like he was worried you might keel over, or combust. Good. He should worry. It was certainly a lot to take in, listening to him explain how brutal it had all been living with such a monster, how it had structured his relationship with his many other brothers, how he watched his own mother lose her light. You made the mistake of picturing a young, chubbier-faced version of Eris, which made your insides squirm.

“Sorry-” You corrected your expression, forcing yourself out of your stupor as you looked anywhere else, not wanting to outright patronise him with pity or offend him with your mortification, “I’m just… processing.”

“Understandable. It is quite the tale.”

“Yes… it is.” You both fell into a contemplative silence, back at the top of the hill overlooking a myriad of fiery leaves that rolled throughout the forest. Finally, in a softer tone, you broke it first.

“I’m sorry.” 

“For?”

You snorted in disbelief at his tone, which made his russet eyes flick to your face. It was a good question, you’d give him that. Certainly one you weren’t sure how to answer. But you figured he had earned himself a sliver of redemption, so you allowed your walls to shrink ever-so-slightly.

“Living through all of… that.”

He waved a hand, brushing you off with a huff, but you shook your head,

“No, no. I’m serious.” You pressed, glancing at him before looking out at the sky,

“Having that for a childhood… It’s... That’s a different kind of horrible. I mean, I told you about me-” You gestured to yourself, not noticing how attentively his eyes followed your hand, before focusing on your face.

“I can’t ever really imagine having parents, let alone parents who never truly… liked each other.” You tread carefully as you referred to his parents' situation, which he seemed to appreciate as he nodded for you to continue mentioning your own life.

“I mean, I guess my upbringing was a little less… turbulent than that, in a sense.” He nodded in amusement, before waving for you to continue, so you did.

“My earliest memories are… probably ‘little me’, being brought up in an orphanage where I was coined ‘the odd one’,” You elaborated, scoffing in bitter amusement at the deep memory, barely catching that his gaze softened slightly. You shook your head, not wanting to let his sympathy soften you- as if the last few hours hadn’t already.

“I mean, they weren’t wrong. Still aren’t.” You shrugged, yet he continued listening, sitting up slightly, “But I learnt to embrace what were supposed to be my ‘differences’. Figured it wasn’t fair that everyone else felt content in their appearance while I couldn’t love my own.”

He nodded at your words, and you looked back at him occasionally, feeling… appreciative at how he seemed to process every word while you told your own story, bare and raw and brutally honest, all for him to have. It felt a little intimidating, feeling how his gaze never left you for a moment, even as you looked away from him at times, but you grew accustomed very quickly. He was listening… listening to you.

“I suppose, what I’m attempting to say is that… as different as we are… I can understand some of it. The burden of carrying such memories… the-”

“The loneliness,” He murmured, and you raised an eyebrow, stopped mid-thought.

“The loneliness… of going through something you’re absolutely certain nobody else is going through.” He finished the thought for you, looking uncharacteristically docile when you glanced at him to make sure he wasn’t mocking you, before slowly nodding in agreement. Something in your stomach ached at the way he looked so small, sitting all quiet and contemplative. It almost unnerved you, really, having a conversation with him that didn’t include the haughty bravado he would usually put on, when he acted like the heir of the Autumn Court.

That’s how you’d define the change, you decided. And at the moment, you certainly preferred ‘Eris, a mother’s son’ to ‘Eris Vanserra, pompous prick and heir.’ 

“Yes… That.” Your mind was practically screaming, your heart racing in your chest. This… this newfound levelling ground- this… connection- it was too deep, too intimate- far too intimate for your liking. You weren’t sure why this made you more uncomfortable than when he was angry at you in the carriage, but your heart was absolutely restless in your chest. You cleared your throat, looking down at the cobblestone of the amphitheatre floor and tracing idle shapes with your fingertip as you decided to lighten the mood.

“I mean, that, and having to pretend like it doesn’t haunt you… putting on a brave face for all the people who scrutinise you from their shoddy little apartment complexes… I couldn’t possibly imagine.”

A ghost of a smile curled on your lips as you repeated his previous words, and he chuckled softly at it, which pulled a knowing smile from you.

“Ah, yes… Woe is me, having issues with my father in our luxurious Vanserra mansion with our  many acres of land… What will I do with myself?”

He asked so miserably, playing perfectly into the role you set up for him, and for the second time that day, you rewarded him with your unrestrained laughter. At that sound, his face watched you with interest before you groaned softly. His eyebrow quirked up as he watched expectantly, seeing you shaking your head in a sardonic fashion before clicking your tongue, 

“Damn it all…” Your palm hit the floor of the amphitheatre you’d be dancing on in a few days time as you spoke with faux disappointment,

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“What?”

“A civil conversation with you! It’s making you seem relatable, almost- as if you have the potential to be likeable… or something stupid like that.”

He snorted as you finished- snorted, like you were actually funny- before shaking his head as he rewarded you with a clear laugh of his own. You ended up chuckling too, watching as his smile grew- admiring it- while he thought over your words, before you realised your eyes were on each other again.

“[Y/N]... I’d like to start over.” He declared, making you tilt your head curiously.

“Perhaps there is something wonderful- dare I suggest, a friendship- to come from this.” He extended his hand, one you found yourself taking with a broad, wry smile of your own.

“Friendship, huh?” You raised your brow, watching him amusedly, like you were pretending to think about it. What kind of friends kissed each other, or despised each other the way you two did?

“If that’s the case, then I should apologise for the horrible presumptions I have for you, and the raspberry I ruined your shoes with, the day we first officially spoke.” You reflected on the bitterly comical encounter, both of you grinning at the image it planted, and your chest seemed to tug as you saw his smile.

“Ah, yes. Well, I forgive you. Please- forgive me for the horrible notions I have allowed the newsletters to fill your head with. I’d like to show you that I’m not just a callous, conniving bastard.”

“You missed heartless, womanising and cunning too.”

“I’d argue my cunning makes me lovable. And it’s not really womanising if females offer themselves willingly to me.” That damned smile made your chest tug again- your heart was doing pirouettes of its own- and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine. I suppose I can try to be civil.”

“Cordial?” He suggested,

“Cordial.” You amended, and he nodded, satisfied with the correction.

“Perhaps we’ll also share a few kisses of our own on the night of the Ball- proper ones, I can assure you.”

“Don’t push your luck, lordling.” He laughed at that too, his voice smooth, warming; like a strong whiskey. It kept something of an endearing smile on your own face as you sighed contentedly.

“Now… about meeting your father for matters of a ‘political nature’…”

“Yes?” You sighed at his eager tone,

“Eris, I appreciate your confidence in me, but I… I can’t.” Your face fell as you shook your head, making him scoot closer to you. Immediately his mouth opened, ready to refute your claims, but you held up a hand that had him biting his tongue obediently- albeit impatiently- as you shook your head again.

“From what you’ve told me… your father is the lowest of lows. Mud in a puddle is more honourable than he is. What could I possibly bring to him? What could I possibly say- How could I possibly say it in a way that’s important enough- powerful enough- for him to even listen?”

You posed questions that made him hesitate- and rightly so- before he shook his head. He even grabbed your hand in his own, to reign in your focus and emphasise the seriousness he wielded as he looked at you. Also because he couldn’t help himself.

“For me to say these points, he would ignore it. To him, all I am is a puppet. Heir in his eyes is a means to an end. If I were to suddenly show a change of heart and advocate these things in the comfort of our manor, he would wave me off; he'd say I’m as flowery as my mother, and dismiss it. But you- For someone who is, as you point out to me,  not of this Court… if you say something, it puts him in a predicament, [Y/N].”

His points did make sense, but you thought about your little apartment, the royalties you were barely living off, and your loving neighbours. It wasn’t like you had nothing to lose.

“Eris, if I offend him, he can erase me like that,” You snapped your finger, “I have a life here- as… conditional as it is. As far as I know, I was born here, dumped on a doorstep here, therefore I live here. I know nothing about the Summer Court- I have no friends, no family, nothing. Where could I go, should he want my head on a stick? My passions are dance, and music. Sure, I know how to read and write and put words together but I’m not a prolific politician. Who would take me in?”

Eris stilled at this, handsome face falling as his brows pinched together thoughtfully, before he waved a hand, not understanding the implications in depth,

“My brother has friends, as he calls them. Friends who could happily help you-”

“Eris! I’m not leaving my fucking home because your father can’t handle being told how shit of a Lord he is!” You scolded, pulling your hand away, but his face lit up, a fanged smile flashing as he clapped. You felt a pull in your chest as he smiled so brightly, 

“There it is. That fire! That’s what Beron needs to see. That is what he needs to be exposed to.” He urged while you groaned softly, holding your head in your hands.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“We’re friends now, darling. My father will not touch you- not if he still wants his heir.”

You looked up at him, the expression on your face radiating ‘Bullshit’, yet you felt that strange pull yet again.

“So what? I get special treatment while your- while Beron’s men drag innocent people out of their homes in the dead of night still? No. That would make me no better than those who do nothing to help.” You shook your head stubbornly, sitting back as a servant came up to the Vanserra heir, murmuring something to him that made him sigh, before looking at you again.

“I wish you’d understand how brilliant your mind is, sweet swan.”

Your chest warmed at that, your heartstrings tying the endearment down, though your eyes drifted, unable to stay on him while your brain rattled at the cocktail of desperation and admiration his voice had spoken with.

“I know I’m brilliant, Eris,” 

Didn’t hurt to hear from him, though.

“Just… let me get the Equinox over and done with, before you try to get me killed off.” You negotiated, hating how convincing he could be, and how you felt yourself beginning to bend as the idea lingered longer in your mind.

“That wasn’t a ‘no’, darling. Oh, don’t give me that look- I’ll relent.” He stood up, taking the hands you stuck out for him to pull you along, and you nodded in thanks- enjoying the way he managed to make you feel like a ragdoll when you had relaxed completely. You both began to walk back to the carriage that had awaited you, not even realising how much time you two had spent together until the sun began to set, and your mind buzzed at a content frequency while you walked side by side, you hugging yourself from the mild autumn chill that developed in the sun’s absence.

“Excited to dance with me?” He nudged slyly, his cheeky smile pulling a chuckle from you. You almost hated how easy it was to laugh with him now that you had come to understand him. Strange, how easily perceptions changed with a simple conversation. Of course, he still had his moments like now, making you push his face away gently as you both walked, only for his hand to catch your outstretched wrist and pull you back, his other arm encircling your waist as he looked down at you, your bodies pressed flush together.

“That wasn’t an answer, partner.” He mused, the mere name making your breathing stop. You were helpless as you looked up into his eyes again, lips parting only for nothing helpful to slip out. Your own eyes shuttered before you turned your head away, as if to reduce the intimacy like you two hadn’t kissed already, and you huffed softly,

“What, am I excited for you to waltz me around like some little lady?”

“I’ve been told my footwork is magical. So magical, that it even strips ladies of their garments.” He hummed, full of confidence; confidence that made your stomach flutter. Truthfully, in the comfort of your private mind, you allowed yourself to admit that you felt aroused at the idea of being in a situation with him where he could strip you of your undergarments. But you saved face- refusing to let him have too much confidence- shaking your head with an amused glimmer in your eyes, voice full of mirth,

“There’s no possible way that line has actually worked on someone before.” You uttered, before giggling lightly, and his eyes narrowed playfully. For a moment, you thought he’d kiss you again, and pull you into that carriage as if to prove you wrong, but he twirled you around instead, letting you go as if to let you dance independently, and you laughed as you spun freely. After a moment, you slowed to a stop, the skirts of your dress fanning out before falling back against you while you watched him, tilting your head slightly.

“You plan on twirling me around like that all night?”

The way he looked at you in that moment felt like a manifestation of the tension that had slowly begun to accumulate, all of it gathering up in his eyes as his gaze followed you,

“If you smile, and sound like that after each spin, then yes.”

The words caught you off guard. You knew Eris Vanserra was a heartthrob- a complete and utter flirt, who could charm the pants off a statue if he wanted- but this look was new. This look was different. Deeper than he let on. There was no sly smirk, no cocky attitude, no cheeky banter to lessen the tension that settled, and your heart… your stomach, your core seemed to squeeze as he beheld you. Your gaze softened, your smile falling slowly as you swallowed, eyelids fluttering before you nodded, advancing towards the carriage again, though your gaze never left him.

“Right.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: friends... i am so sorry for being inactive for so long! it was an unexpected hiatus, i didn't do as well as i thought i would in my exams, i was severely burnt out and struggling with my adhd meds as well as a plethora of mental/other issues but i pinky swear i am back and ready to pump out fics!! i had a bit of writer's block with L'autunno but we are back in business, baby!! i have had loads of ideas that i wanna write n share with you all (across whatever fandoms i feel creative inspo for) but pls send requests bc they do actually motivate me to stay consistent! as always, pls let me know what you think, be it a dm, a reblog or a comment!! love always, Lex <3<3<3

[khattikeri]

the thing about wei wuxian’s victims is that calling them wei wuxian’s victims in the first place is nebulous.

that isn't to say those who died or were bereaved after nightless city or the first siege of the burial mounds weren't hurt by wei wuxian’s retaliation. but calling them "wei wuxian’s victims" while ignoring that cultivation society scapegoated and hunted him down, and that wei wuxian never attacked without being threatened first, is a massive oversimplification.

sure we have minor characters like the cultivator who lost his leg or the cultivator who lost his parents, and sure mxtx writes them as part of a mob of more unreasonable people who were largely not even present for these events, but the thing is... there are major named characters who were present, or who had loved ones there, and their grief and pain are given full attention by the story. they're called jiang cheng and jin ling.

my sister/my mother died at nightless city because of you! except no, jiang yanli actually died because an entirely different nameless cultivator stabbed her, and she intentionally pushed wei wuxian out of the way to protect him out of sincere love. it wasn't the first time. she already demonstrated this when she stood up for him and called him her blood brother in front of her fiance and his family at an event they were hosting, when she had zero backing support and could've easily been dumped and had her marriageability ruined for speaking out of turn.

who's to say that jiang yanli's death wasn't the only instance of cultivators dying at nightless city from friendly fire during all the chaos? we don't know. the one thing we do know for certain is that once it was all over, the survivors attributed the (dubiously counted) thousands of casualties to wei wuxian alone.

saying that wei wuxian was the sole cause is overly convenient for cultivation society. in particular the major sects politically did not want to help the wen remnants and were content to mistreat them in forced labor camps. they thought that wei wuxian was too dangerous with his unique ghost path of cultivation and use of resentful energy, so they gathered everyone up and tried TWO different times to assassinate him. the first time just killing wei wuxian alone. the next time, taking all the remaining wens out with him.

there's a lot left unsaid about these major battles and sieges which leads to a lot of our discourse as fans to begin with-- we have such limited information about all these major events of the past! and unfortunately for us, that's the point!

that's the thesis of the book! the details of the pain and grief you go through don't actually matter! regardless of it, you have to eventually move on. you have to actively choose good, to do what you think is right for the sake of doing the right thing, and not just to act based on your idea of fulfilling debts or deserving to be repaid a certain way!

what everyone claims as indisputable facts about wei wuxian are actually skewed not only by rumors, but by politics. mxtx doesn't depict these various randos to give them a brief beat of sympathy. nor does she do it just to make wei wuxian look better.

they are there because they are also angry and bitter, stewing in the past looking for someone to keep blaming (wei wuxian; the cultivation world decided thirteen years ago it would be wei wuxian) and demanding recompense from him. jiang cheng does the same for the entire damn book.

jin ling breaks the cycle; in spite of the rocky start he eventually chooses to trust wei wuxian and argue on his behalf even in front of his elders. even though he's the heir to a major sect. even though he has been taught his entire life to despise and be angry at wei wuxian for orphaning him.

mdzs is a complex story. it also happens to be a black and white story without gray morality. there are many what-ifs, actions that went poorly or circumstances that would've shifted the course of events if only things had gone well for everyone, but nobody acts in a legitimately morally grey way.

throughout the novels there is a clear delineation between good and bad, righteous and wrong; wei wuxian is clearly the former in both cases not because mxtx wanted to more easily depict her protagonist as a good guy, but because she consistently bases these dichotomies upon the fulcrum of hypocrisy.

supporting the use of resentful energy via ghost cultivation to kill your political enemies in wartime and then immediately turning on the person doing so for you once the war is over, blaming all evils on him and trying to get him killed because he's trying to help the few survivors of the opposing side (both because it's the right thing to do and to pay back a life debt he secretly owes that only two or three people know about, oops)-- that is hypocrisy.

if wei wuxian does it and we like it, it's expected of him and he deserves no praise, though he handles it all with charm and stride befitting the son of the illustrious cangse-sanren.

if wei wuxian does it and we don't like it, he's a murderous evildoer, the ungrateful and dangerous son of a servant (whose name we conveniently never say even though we all know who wei changze was).

mdzs is a book about the hypocrisy of the upper class. mdzs is a book about grief. mdzs is a book about society and rumors and politics and the pitfalls of chasing after what you are "owed". mdzs is a book about love and sticking to your own path and principles. wei wuxian is its protagonist, and by the novel's own values, he is indisputably good.

[hellaarknight]

Something called love

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Genre: angst Warnings: swearing

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A king has to be flawless.

That's something Callisto Regulus has heard all his life. Don't show your vulnerability, don't show your emotions, don't show you're hurt, don't show you care. These words are engraved in Callisto's mind, in his behaviors, in his heart, whether he likes it or not. It's not like he ever had a choice in the matter. But then why does he hate it so much right now when he's seeing you spit blood?

A king has to be flawless.

That's why he agreed with the arranged marriage with you, a marriage plotted by the empress to keep him in check. Or at least that's what he thought at first.

"Fuck this" he thought as he run to pick up your bloodied body from the ground. His body just moved on his own, his voice screamed for a physician, but he was stuck on your beautiful eyes which were losing their light.

___________________________________________________________________

"I don't want this marriage as much as you. Unfortunately for you, Your Highness, I'm just a paw for my family, one they'll discard given the chance. I entered this marriage with the sole purpose of getting out of that mansion that I called home. Believe it or not, the thought of dying by your hands on a whim of your attitude is merciful in comparison with the living I had there. So, if you feel merciful today, swing that sword harder and actually cut my throat, don't just give me false hope".

Callisto was certainly taken aback by your words. He just wanted to scare you, his new so called fiancee, to run back home crying as he did not have the wish nor patience to play the game the empress had in mind. So, taking advantage of his infamous reputation, he put his sword at your throat, asking for a reason why he shouldn't just kill you on a whim. If you intended to peak his interest, you did.

" So you're telling me, that you're treating the next emperor as a way out of a bad family situation? Am I a joke to you?" He was amused, a smirk gracing his handsome face. Even though now he was sure you would not be a thorn in his side, at least for now, he wanted to make sure that you knew your place, and be afraid of him. He does have a reputation as a tyrant, after all.

" If I have to be sincere, Your Highness, then yes, I have used you... No, even better, I am using you as a way out of that place. The ducy is not particularly fond of their illegitimate daughter, you see. Even a prisoner of the Empire has a better life than I did. You may do whatever you want with this information and if your wish is to punish me with the death penalty, I'd gladly take it."

___________________________________________________________________

Callisto was definitely fond of your first encounter after you entered the palace as his fiancee. While staying by your unconscious side day after day, he reminiscent more of those moments he kept very close to his heart. Your fiery attitude, your sharp mind and your quick witted responses to his provocation made him fall in love with you, without even realizing it. He, who had a duty to carry, a revenge to fight for, deemed that it was impossible to fall in love. He was sure his marriage will be a political one to straighten his power once he becomes emperor and still he found himself waiting for your encounters, waiting to see your smile and now hoping for you to wake up.

A king has to be flawless.

Everyone around him wanted to see his desperation now that his esteemed fiancee was on the verge of death. But he did not show any. Not around others, of course. But when he remains alone with you, holding your frail hand, kissing your pale temples, he pleads with the gods to have you back.

___________________________________________________________________

"You should really stop hiding in the library"

Callisto found your secret hideout in the castle library, somewhere in the back, all cozy with some blankets and pillows. You intrigued him, you stood your ground in front of him, even in front of the empress. He discovered that you loved reading, so he granted you access to the imperial library. He found out a lot about his fiancee these past months.

" You should stop following me around, Your Highness. Don't you have something better to do, like fighting the nobles and beating the monsters?"

"What now? I'm not allowed to spend time with my own fiancee?"

"Careful now. If someone hears you might think that you actually have feelings for me"

Calisto scoffed, avoiding your gaze and immediately changing the subject, while sitting near you in your cozy space. A very illegal cozy space, the librarian throwing a fit over it, but he made sure that you'd be allowed to keep it. After all, he was keeping you in check so you wouldn't conspire with the empress, or that's the lie he keeps telling around.

" What are you reading today?"

" Honestly, something about the monster from the Empire and magic. "

" Oh no, did you get bored of the lovey dovey stories you read until now?"

You playfully smacked his arm, something you've done once in frustration and since you did not lose your head, you continued doing it. Callisto was rather amused by it, so he allowed it, after all it was one of the few physical interactions you two had.

" No, no I did not. I just need a break from all that, you know, get back on earth with my head. Don't wanna fool myself into believing that something called love exists."

Foolish girl, were the words that never left Calisto's lips that day. Instead, he felt so at peace that he fell asleep with his head on your shoulder. And you never spoke about it after his awakening, but it definitely became your little secret that kept happening every now and then.

___________________________________________________________________

This was the third time Calisto felt fear when it came to you. The first time was when the monster attacked at the hunting competition. The second time was when your family came to visit. He remembered that when you heard the news that they came unannounced you paled, your complexion being almost the same shade that you had now while on the verge of death. It was more than six months into your engagement when they made their presence at the palace, if he remembers correctly.

"Do you remember that time when you were so scared of hearing the news that you gripped yourself to my side and did not want to let go?"

Calisto smiled to himself while pressing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. How the tables have turned, now he's the one glued to your side, not wanting to let go.

"Do you remember the promise I made you that day? That I'll help you be free from your family with or without our engagement? This was not the freedom I was talking about..."

His voice cracked.

He remembered when he first saw the scars on your back. An accident, really, he was at the wrong place and wrong time... Or should it be the right place at the right time? He never could have guessed that you were carrying such a burdensome secret. Then it all made sense, why you weren't afraid to lose your head at his hand, the way you called him being merciful for taking away your life.

" I'm sorry, Your Highness... You should not have seen that. Unfortunately, my body is not the most pleasurable one to look at..." A sad smile. " I'm full of old scars. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not the beauty they promised you."

Your voice still rang in his head as he recalled his foolish action at the time.

" Don't cover up!" He made you turn your back to him. He hated that you were putting yourself down for something you did not have any control over. He also had scars from battle, would you find them ugly when you eventually would get to see them? He placed a kiss on your back then quietly whispered making you shiver.

" You're nothing less than perfect in my eyes and your scars only tell the story of how powerful you really are. Don't ever try to hide yourself from me"

Callisto was going crazy, having all these flashbacks of the moments he secretly cherished. He placed another kiss on your hand, then whispered in your ear.

" Please come back to me, and I promise to kiss every scar that there is on your body and I'll promise that something called love does actually exist"

[9amartt]

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركاته

I wanted to ask and I hope you can answer if it doesn’t take from your time of course جزاك الله خير

What would you say is the right thing to do regarding friends whose aqeedah differs from you. Example, having a friend who is a Hazimi. You have advised them but they have brought what they believe is sufficient proof. But they are not vile in the sense that they have bad manners towards the one who opposes them and even befriend those who don’t share that view point. Or someone who believes that some form the Muslimeen are khawarij. They say things like : “well I believe they are khawarij but that’s okay if you don’t. We can have different political views or stances in the deen”. I have friends like this and because they are not bad mannered or publicly slander others, I’ve never gave it a thought to disassociate. But recently, I’ve been afraid of being a hypocrite. Do I really want to stand with them in front of Allah? Can I truly befriend the one who believes the sincere from amongst us are wrong ? And then also another fear of mine is being extreme and dropping all those who are have shown nothing but good from them and towards me. Even if you don’t have advice, have you had any experience and could you make dua Allah guides me to doing what’s right إن شاء الله

و عليكم السلام ورحمة الله وبركاته

I will say everything from a subjective pov, or more like according to my own logic and experiences (ive had hazimj and madkhali friends too):

1- A Hazimi no matter how he may act with you deep down he believes you are misguided (or even a kaffir). It is the same as befriending a Christian who knows you are a disbeliever in his religion yet befriends you for fun, basically using you because he would never love you as much as a fellow Christian.

2- Those who accuse the muslims you associate with to be Khawarij, those stay away from them and distance yourself, if you really love those ‘khawarij’ you will abandon everyone who slanders them. By khawarij I assume they mean Mujahidin, so if you like to befriend someone who is sitting down and not benefitting the ummah at all, and not just that, but slanders those who DO help the ummah, then that’s up to you. But anyone with a sane mind and heart wouldn’t. We dissociate from those who slander our allies, so what if they slander the allies of ALLAH!!?

It is not politics, its religion, these people are the allies of Allah as we expect them to be, slandering them is punishable by Allah. Also. Sitting in a gathering in which they are slandered and not saying anything makes you sinful too.

my advice is to distance yourself, even the closest people to you if they slander the mujahideen avoid them.

3- Regarding the hypocrisy part, in sha Allah you are not a hypocrite, but if you keep associating with those people you think are your friends you will soon certainly become one (like them). So stay away from these people. For they will be the first ones to demotivate you from taking steps that benefit you in your akhirah. I am sure you feel like your heart is dying every time you sit with them. These people will slowly darken your heart until you become indifferent like them, and abandon your goals and aspirations, which should be high for you as a muwahhid/a.

4: Don’t be extreme or abandon everyone at once, take it all step to step (and wallahi I am talking from experience in regards to this), leave your bad friends one after the other in subtle ways , we can say “let the spark die” which is basically being everyday less and less engaging with them until they get tired and leave you. And then don’t feel bad, because you are doing this for yourself, after this, start slowly incorporating good friends, replacing your old ones. If you struggle to make friends irl try on social media. Also very important: once the spark with your old friends dies, remove them from your social media. Don’t let them see your moves or find a topic to converse about with you.

You may be alone for a while, so was I for a year or so after I abandoned all my bad friends, but i would make dua to Allah to bless me with righteous friends always. And Allah did! Wallahi now I have friends i would have never imagined to get and they have helped me to improve in so many aspects and helped me arrive to places i would never imagine arriving to. Alhamdulillah.

To summarise. Everyone who doesn’t respect the allies of Allah does not deserve your respect. Don’t sit with the people of Bidah. Everyone who believes you are misguided has no business being your friend, if they don’t have walaa and baraa to their own beliefs then you have them….

And… why would you befriend evil people when there’s thousands of good ones? You can easily pick and chose what best suits your personality (idk if you are a brother or a sister but either way there’s way too many brothers and sisters Alhamdulillah and the dawah keeps spreading and the numbers keep increasing Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah), so hop on social media if you feel lonely, start slowly making friends there, and let things flow without overthinking or forgetting Dua (dua dua dua verrrry important!!!) Don’t force friendships.

I hope this helps!!!

[circumlocutive]

I genuinely love watching the insane political extremist fights that happen on Tumblr. A dying platform with few viewers, just duking it out for the love of the game. Views I never thought I'd see someone sincerely endorse. I hope everyone bites each others dicks off

[fbfh]

curiosity is a wonderful thing - ch 4

wc: 3.8k

genre: political thriller (ish), slow burn, best friends to lovers

pairing: audrey x ben, eventual ben x reader

warnings: political shiz, audrey sucks even more than the last chapter, reader has time blindness and implied social anxiety, classism (from audrey at the isle kids), tense social situations

summary: you manage to make it to the Isle kids welcome reception without being irrevercably late, but what's worse than you're time management skills is Audrey's attitude.

song recs: running out of time - paramore

a/n: fangz 2 cici for beta reading. I'm going to sleep for 24 hours straight. bro I am so tired. love you guys <333 (plus optional fit)

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280 @hopefullhearts @thatawkwardlittlefangirl  @sunshineangel-reads @strawberry-cake1 @dustyinkpages @kiara7777

"Shit, shit, shit!" 

You jolt up off the mushroom you've been sitting comfortably on, chugging the rest of your tea and shoving the cup back in your bag. 

“Goodbye,” you say quickly to the inchworms, “and break a leg for your choral concert!” 

You call back to them quickly before running into the trees and looking for a grassy clearing big enough to make a rabbit hole. You find exactly the spot you’re looking for, and quickly summon a rabbit hole to bring you back to Auradon. You watch the earth crumble and sink in front of you as the rabbit hole forms at your feet. As soon as it’s big enough, you jump in feet first, and the ground quickly closes around you. You fall for a few moments, plummeting much faster than before, spinning through the dark earthy air. After a few moments of tumbling through the darkness, there’s a rumbling as the earth opens up above you. You grab onto the ledge, and hoist yourself up, crawling onto your dorm room floor. You let yourself get your bearings for a moment, before remembering why you’re in such a rush.

“Shit, shit, shit…” You mutter again, brushing the dirt off your clothes as you hurry out of your dorm room. You scurry down several flights of stairs, twisting and turning through corridors to get to the reception for the Isle kids. You dust yourself off and straighten up all the little parts of your outfit, including the ribbon you always wear on your head in some way or another. It’s soft and worn, a gift from your mother dyed with Wonderland blackberries. It always carries the familiar scents of sweet summertime tea and fruit, and the reassuring embrace of your mother’s hugs. Lost in the thought, you find yourself tripping over your shoes and stumbling the last few steps to the great hall. You let out a loud noise of surprise before you manage to catch yourself.

“Oh- goodness!” You exclaim. You look around, hoping no one heard you, and you’re relieved to see that there’s no one else inside the great hall. Everyone is already outside for the reception, and the cheerful melodies of the school band must have covered up any noise you made. Wait, the band is already playing. 

“I must be later than I thought…” you mutter. You scurry down the cobblestone path, spotting Ben with Fairy Godmother and Audrey just past the statue of Ben’s father. You move quickly, managing to take your place among them, hoping to seamlessly blend in as if you’d been here the whole time. 

“Late again, Ms. Liddell?” Fairy Godmother asks quietly. Ben looks down in surprise, just noticing your arrival. You flash him a brief look of encouragement, one that says see? I told you I’d be here on time. More or less. Ben smiles, warm and sincere as he feels a renewed sense of reassurement and confidence that always seems to arrive along with you. After that moment of eye contact, you reply softly to Fairy Godmother. 

“No excuse, ma’am - I’m simply on Wonderland time.”

Which is, to say, no time at all, what with Wonderland being a timeless domain and such. The main difference between Wonderland and Neverland is that in Neverland, time stands still, but in Wonderland, it doesn’t exist at all. You’ve always had a hard time remembering that time is so important overland, hence the pocket watch. The feeling of Ben’s hand on your neck snaps you out of the thought, and you look over at him as he plucks a sparkling pink leaf off your collar, letting it fall to the ground as the limo pulls up.

“Thanks-” You barely have time to whisper before the car doors open, and two rowdy looking boys tumble out, fighting over a large piece of fabric. The band stops playing, shocked at the unusual display of behavior. Fairy Godmother approaches as the other two climb out of the car. The purple haired one - Mal, if you’re correct - nudges the boys and mutters something to them, causing them to straighten up. You wait next to Ben, with Audrey on his other side, as Fairy Godmother greets them and begins her introduction of herself, and Auradon Prep. Your eyes fall to the manicured hedges surrounding the brick path leading into the school. You let yourself watch the leaves rustle fluidly in the ambient breeze, thinking about the foliage in Wonderland. Given a choice, you prefer Wonderland plant life - it all feels much more dynamic and interesting. You think you could watch those little pink leaves shimmer and glisten all day long, if you had the time, of course. Although, you must admit to yourself how fond you've grown of these hedges too. They're uniform, but still individualistic when you look close enough. They’re quite stately. A real treat. 

"It is so good to finally meet you all."

You snap back to attention as Ben begins to speak, and introduces himself. Excitement starts to stir inside you as you and Ben both realize in that moment that it's finally happening. All your hard work is about to pay off. The only one who doesn't seem to realize the importance of this moment is Audrey. Ben barely has time to introduce himself before she cuts him off to interject. 

"Prince," she emphasizes, "Benjamin."

She squeezes his arm and looks up at him. 

"Soon to be king!"

You fight the urge to share a knowing look with Ben, all too well aware of how frequently Audrey seems to derail serious discussions and meetings for things that are barely relevant at best. Though his expression doesn't show it, Ben doesn't even need to look at your face to know the exact expression present on it. 

In front of you, the blue haired girl - the Evil Queen's daughter - steps forward and extends her hand to Ben with an excited look on her face. 

"You had me at prince," she says, clearly infatuated with Ben’s title. Her voice is breathy and flirtatious as she speaks, but something tells you that the stakes are higher for her than she's letting on. "My mom’s a queen, which makes me a princess…"

Before the sigh can leave her lips, Audrey interjects again. You watch her face subtly warp into one of the fakest smiles you've ever seen as she speaks with a performative, forced friendliness. 

"The Evil Queen has no royal status here." Her tone is somehow even more fake than her smile. "And neither do you!"

It's silent for a moment as Evie tries not to make her rejection known. Status seems to be important to her, and coming from a place like the Isle where one has so little, it seems cruel to you for Audrey to strip that away so carelessly. After another moment of painful, sad silence, Ben chuckles politely in an attempt to smooth things over. 

“...This is Audrey-”

“Princess Audrey.” She emphasizes. You wonder if she’s deliberately trying to make Ben’s job harder, or if she’s just that callous. Audrey grabs Ben’s hand in spite of the awkward distance between them - not far, but too far to hold hands comfortably. 

“His girlfriend.” She finishes, “Right Bennyboo?”

You don’t say anything, you don’t make a single noise at any of her comments. Somehow your silence is louder to Ben than anything else you could have said. You’ve never been a fan of Audrey’s nickname for him, something Ben has a slight suspicion about. You think his name suits him perfectly well. All of the cutesy modifiers seem to be because she likes saying them rather than for expressing her affection for him. A nickname, you think, should be like a kiss to the cheek. Soft and natural, pleasant every time it happens. But Bennyboo? It has never hit your ear right from the day she came up with it, and you find yourself cringing a little whenever its said in your vicinity. 

Ben leans over awkwardly, allowing Audrey to hold his hand for a moment. He knows it will make a worse scene if she doesn’t get her way, so he finds himself more prone to compromising with her in cases like this - which happens often. After that brief moment, he finds a graceful exit in removing his hand to bring you forward and introduce you. He rests the hand closest to you on your lower back, gesturing to you as you wave to them politely. You can take a little while to warm up to people, you’ve been that way since you were kids, for as long as Ben can remember. He rubs his thumb over the fabric of your shirt encouragingly. It’s familiar, a reminder that he’s there for you. 

The Isle kids’ eyes linger on you as Ben tells them your name, but Audrey’s eyes linger on Ben’s hand still placed comfortably on your back. After you finish greeting them, Fairy Godmother steps forward again.

“Alright!” She says, chipper attitude disguising the worry and stress beginning to fringe in around the edges of her mind. She gestures to you, Ben, and Audrey. 

“These three are going to show you around, and I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” She states in her usual soft, sweet tone before launching into one of her classic monologues, “The doors of wisdom are never closed!” 

The Isle kids look surprised at the way she speaks, gesturing dramatically. You and Ben share a look, knowing exactly what she’s about to say. 

“But, the library hours are from eight to eleven,” she adds, “and as you may have heard, I have a little thing about curfews.”

Ben catches a glimpse of you lip synching along with her, silently following along with a little thing about curfews at the same time as she says it. It catches him off guard, and he has to stop himself from laughing, which of course, leads to you suppressing a smile too. Audrey clutches her purse irritably as Ben tries to disguise his laugh as a cough. She takes note of the way you keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ground, the way you try to bite back a laugh and a smile of your own. You know if you look over at Ben then you’ll both devolve into inconsolable laughter, the kind only the closest of friends can bring about in each other. 

Fairy Godmother leaves, and Ben is able to collect himself, stepping forward toward the Isle kids to begin his speech. An uncharacteristically nervous flutter appears within him, making his stomach flip. He wishes he had had time to run it by you again, just one more time. But he got to run it by Audrey - sort of. Regardless, Audrey said it was good. She gave it her seal of approval, and as his girlfriend, Ben needs to trust her judgment, and trust that she has his best interest at heart. He lets out a little breath, preparing himself. 

This is it.

This is his chance to break the generational cycle that’s been created, to end the years of being stuck in an echochamber of war and unrest, to heal the trauma that the nation has collectively suffered - especially the innocent people stuck on the Isle. This is his very first chance to bridge the gap,to really connect with the Isle kids and let them know that they’re welcome with open arms, and they’re accepted unconditionally. It sounds improbable to say that seven teenagers can make history, but that’s truly what this is - history in the making. History that will benefit everyone in the nation years down the line. They’re building the future in this very moment. 

“It is so, so…” Ben begins, stepping forward, “so good to finally meet you-”

He’s cut off with a grunt as one of them punches him in the chest. Your eyes flare in concern for a moment, but Ben’s smile denotes it as a sign of camaraderie. Nonetheless, it catches you both by surprise. Ben recovers quickly and seamlessly, just like a politician, a future king, should. It’s one of his talents, and is something you’ve always admired about him. You walk next to him, and greet the first person in line - you’re almost sure he’s Jafar’s son - as Ben shakes the other girl’s hand. Your shoulder brushes against Ben’s, and he falters for a moment. He stares at Maleficent’s purple haired daughter blankly for a moment, all too aware of how close your arm is to his. He snaps out of it a moment later, and continues his speech.

“This is a momentous occasion,” he begins. You realize he’s going to do the full original speech, that he didn’t revise or edit it for this less formal occasion. He moves to shake hands with the next person. 

“And one that I hope will go down in history…” He trails off, feeling something sticky rub off on his hand. He looks down at the dark smudge, and brings his hand up to his nose, sniffing hesitantly. It smells sweet, and he’s a little relieved. 

“Is that chocolate?” He asks. 

His enhanced sense of smell inherited from his father confirms that it is, in fact, chocolate. Milk chocolate, with traces of peanut butter. Ben glances over at you for a brief moment as you flash him a knowing smile. Candy and sweets in the limo had been your idea, a welcoming gift to lift their spirits and ease their travels. Based on all the plastic wrappers and brightly colored sugar crystals here and there, it seems to have been a successful welcoming gesture. As you reach Cruella De Vil’s son, you pull a lacy handkerchief out of your tea pot bag, and hand it to him so he can wipe the rest of the chocolate off his hands and face. He thanks you quietly as Ben continues his speech.

“As the day our two peoples began to heal.” He states, as confident and well rehearsed as ever. Before he can continue, he gets cut off by Maleficent’s daughter.

“Or the day that you showed four peoples where the bathrooms are.” She says in an exaggerated, sarcastic tone of voice, eliciting a laugh from her peers. Just as you feared, this whole thing is way too formal for the occasion. Maleficent’s daughter seems to be the ringleader out of the four of them. 

Ben falters for a moment, realizing that he should have taken your advice and edited his speech before now. But when would he have found time to? He thinks back to his interaction with Audrey and realizes that she was more motivated to tell Ben all her gossip than she was to actually look over his speech with a critical eye. He remembers what you told him earlier, your concerns about it being too formal for the occasion. Once again, your judgment was spot on. You’ve never been one to say I told you so, but in this moment, he would let you if you wanted to. He's able to recover quickly.

"A little bit over the top?" He asks with a chuckle. She seems impressed that he wasn't outwardly hurt by her comments.

"A little more than a little bit." She retorts.

“Well, so much for my first impression.” Ben jokes back, eliciting something close to a chuckle out of her. You let out a small breath, relieved that he diffused the situation, and can now get their welcome and orientation back on track after breaking the ice like that. Being able to seem like a leader without coming across as intimidating or authoritarian is already a hard balance to strike, and it’s even more difficult when you need to seem personable and friendly without being unprofessional. Add in the unknowns of blazing a trail into all new territory like this, and what Ben is doing is truly impressive. Although you’re incredibly proud and impressed, you’re not at all surprised at Ben for being able to pull this off. If anyone could, you know it would be him. Moments like these really exemplify his passion for politics, for using his power the way it was intended - to improve the lives of everyone in Auradon. He's always been like this, you both have since you were knee high to a march hare. It's one of the reasons you have such a close bond. You've never minded too much that your peers are more inclined to the social aspect of your titles than the political end of things, you think it’s best not to venture into something as taxing as politics and government when you don't love it. On the hard days, that love, that drive to help is what gets you through. As if proving your point, Audrey’s overly chipper voice disrupts the atmosphere again. 

"Hey," she gestures to the purple haired girl, "you're Maleficent’s daughter, aren't you?"

You can sense Ben and yourself tense up, freezing imperceptibly. Nothing good can possibly come from this, and you both brace yourselves for the inevitable.

"Yeah, you know what?" She continues, "I totally do not blame you for your mother trying to kill my parents and stuff." 

Her tone is perfectly chipper, but paired with her underhanded words, the meaning behind them is crystal clear. Your stomach sinks, and you’re sure Ben must be stifling his panic better than you are, but the expression on Mal’s face says exactly what you and Ben - and presumably, the rest of the Isle kids - are thinking. You know Ben is going to have a lot to say to Audrey about this later. If she brushes off her petty at best behavior like she usually does, you’re not sure you’ll be able to restrain yourself from sharing some choice words of your own. The only thing stopping you is Ben. You know calling Audrey out would do more harm than good, and the best thing you can do for Ben is support him and help with any damage control he does later. 

Audrey has a habit of excusing behavior like this, especially if it’s hers, but she fails to see the fundamental difference between bitching about the other girls on the cheer squad and what she just did - there’s life beyond high school, but politics can have real, lasting consequences and effect innocent people’s lives for generations. This isn’t some junior counsel mock trial, you’re in the real world of royal government now. Every day that Ben’s coronation gets closer is another day you’re getting deeper and deeper into real politics with real people. 

“Oh, my mom’s Aurora.” She continues. You really, really wish she would stop talking. “Sleeping-”

“Beauty!” Mal quickly finishes for her. There’s a barely concealed, dangerous look on her face, and her eyes glow green like poison, flashing menacingly. “Yeah, I’ve heard the name…”

You can tangibly feel the years of resentment and hatred for her passed down to Mal from her mother, now directed right at Audrey. 

“You know,” Mal continues, “and I totally do not blame your grandparents… for inviting everyone in the whole world,” she takes a step closer to Audrey giving her a look that could kill, paired with a venomously fake smile that… could also kill. “To their stupid christening!”

You look between them, growing nervous. Audrey either doesn’t notice the venom in Mal’s words or simply doesn’t care, because she replies with a smile that’s approximately as real as her hair extensions. 

“Water under the bridge.” She says, deliberately scrunching her nose, trying to replicate the way that you do naturally - the little nose scrunch you’d never noticed until Ben pointed it out a few months ago, telling you how cute it is. 

“Totes!” Mal agrees sarcastically. They both let out an insincere laugh in unison. The tension between them jumps out astronomically with just those few words, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t getting a little overwhelming. Ben glances over at you, knowing you’ve never been good with tense atmospheres like this. His eyes immediately flick down to your hands, taking note of the way you fidget with the strap of your bag. He also notices the way you subconsciously shift your weight, unable to feel comfortable with so much animosity burning between Mal and Audrey. 

He needs to get the Isle kids away from Audrey before she says anything to make this already less than ideal situation worse, but more importantly, he needs to get things moving along for your sake. Without realizing it, his top priority is immediately you and your comfort. Once he gets them all settled into their dorms, he can pull you aside and check on you, make sure you’re okay. He has to get the Isle kids settled into their dorms, go over their arrival with Fairy Godmother and a few council members, then he has a late dinner with his parents… he’ll have to find time to finish the mountain of paperwork that’s in progress, too. 

Even though it’s a lot to get done, he finds himself looking forward to it - even the paperwork. Especially the paperwork. He’s always found it relaxing, mostly because he knows you’ll be in the room with him while he does, journaling and organizing your photographs. You’re always happy to keep him company and ensure he has a warm cup of tea in his hands. 

He would never tell anyone that he likes doing paperwork - except for you, of course. He knows that if he told Audrey or her friends or the guys on the tourney team, they’d never let him hear the end of it. It turns out that being in line for the throne doesn’t mean you’re immune to being called a dork. But you’re always happy to keep him company. He has a feeling you find spending time quietly working on your journal while he goes through different forms and reports just as relaxing as he does.

You let out a little breath and he looks back over at you, at the polite smile plastered on your face and unsettled look in your eyes. It snaps him back to the present, and he looks between Audrey and the Isle kids.

“Okay!” He says, clapping his hands casually, but just loud enough to get their attention. “How bout a tour?”

He looks over at you, silently signaling that he has your back. You nod, matching his energy, and smiling at him. 

“Yeah.” You say softly. 

“Yeah?” He repeats, looking at the Isle kids, who seem to agree. Anything to avoid another Mal and Audrey conflict sounds great right now. Ben glances at you again, and he can tell you’re already feeling better. Or at least a little better than you were a few moments ago. You share one more look for a split second, sharing a silent reassurance, an understanding, and you can tell you’re thinking the same thing. This is going to be… interesting. 

[dootznbootz]

I absolutely love your head canons about Water Wife™️, but I’m curious about what head canons you have for Odysseus (aka. #1 Water Wife™️ simp) 🤔

I have so manyyyyyyyy!!! :D

For both, of course, and I'm not even done with Penelope never will be There's some I probably have mentioned before but bleh :D I'll put it out anyways.

Odysseus is a "pretty boy" and he's able to balance "masculine" and "feminine" beauty perfectly and he knows it and uses it. (When you're aspec, you tend to "study" what makes people "pretty". To understand it as, "What's the big deal?". That's what he does) I knew someone in theatre who when playing different characters for acting, the more "sweet and goofy" one (Seymour, Little Shop of Horrors) and the "rugged, handsome" one (Prince from Into the Woods) and he looked like different people and realized it was because he was able to really shift his jaw around and also just really expressive and Odysseus USES this. ALL the time. Paris is a more feminine pretty boy while Menelaus is a more masculine pretty boy but Odysseus is a perfect in-between. (Paris and Menelaus are definitely prettier than him in a way but yeah >:D Homer doesn't stfu about Odysseus and he had multiple people wanting him. When he didn't want anyone but Penelope)

What "mars" his beauty is that Odysseus bites at his lips a lot. Usually chapped and ripped up.

I kind of plan for it to be kind of unknown whether Sisyphus or Laertes is his dad. He REALLY takes after his mom in so many ways. He's a lil jealous of Ctimene as while both take after Mom, she has Dad's nose and eye color. It's something that means a lot to him that his dad loves him regardless. And it REALLY bothers him when people try and bring up Sisyphus being his dad. It makes him sincerely happy seeing Tyndarius loving all his kids even though there's a CLEAR difference on who's whose. (Omfg imagine if he could talk to his mom about Calypso and Circe as what she went through with Sisyphus 😭Maybe Penelope trying to get advice from Laertes!!!)

He actually couldn't really grow a beard until after the war for whatever reason :D he was just kind of pretty smooth-shaven (not shaven but just no beard til later). Penelope teases him about it and when she does he rubs his face against hers.

He tries to say his favorite poems/epics/myths are the ones of Heracles but it's actually Psyche's myth. Not giving up because you're so devoted? That you want to see your person/people again?? RINGING ANY BELLS. (Also Baucis and Philemon, because Xenia is very important to him and to grow old with his love to then get turned into olive trees together?? That's his LIFE GOAL.)

I really love the thought of him and Eumeaus being super close. Like he actually wasn't that close to Polites and Eurylochus until mid-teens but Eumeaus was raised beside him and Ctimene.

Demisexual/demiromantic/aspec: Like he didn't really get it until Penelope, at least not fully. And then he's just hit by a truck. They were in the garden when they first met (no details yet! But she just knocks him on his ass) and there were beehives and beekeepers around and he turns so red and is so gobsmacked that Penelope freaked out thinking he was stung by a bee and was dying. (being Naiad she's dealt with this before) I wouldn't say "love at first sight" as he didn't really think anything until she called him out.

Mentioned before, but the Boar scar caused fertility issues. He's...very ripped up. He blames his asexuality/demisexuality on it and it's a surprise that he can run so well (Hermes' descendant and Athena saved him...just not "all of him".) Penelope had some fertility issues too (she has a lot of siblings so she's really sad about it) but he always took the blame and always made a point of "I won't take a concubine. I don't want one and I'm the reason why we can't have children. It wouldn't change anything." Though his leg does get stiffer in joints and the skin is tight when he's older. Water Wife™ helps with that. :D

Since it took a while before they had Telemachus, he had... a lot of toys made in preparation even though it took awhile. Crib too but wasn't used for a while. Telemachus luckily has many keepsakes and gifts from his dad :') and yes he carried them everywhere. (There was a branch off their "nest" that Telemachus messed around on too much when he was around 8 and it broke :'). When Odysseus comes back, Telemachus is ashamed and says sorry and Odysseus is just happy he wasn't hurt. (OUCHIE)

He actually had the Trojan horse idea for YEARS (like year 5) but everyone thought it was "dishonorable" and he was SO MAD. (also yeah, he remembered all the toys he made his son and that's how he got the idea) It is a "TOLD YOU SO!" moment when they win.

One thing I love about him is that he really is "all or nothing" in many ways. or a "0 to 100 very quickly". He does NOT let even minor insults slide. He goes all out and over the top for the people he loves and the people he hates. like, he DOES care. He loves as much as he hates. Like he's an asshole but there's always a reason (honestly I think he does have his rules. and they ARE consistent I think. probably will write an essay on it soon)

Honestly, I know a lot of people think "oh familiar stranger" when they get back and yeah, they look so different but they still think the same in many ways. Homer ends with them still being like-minded. I think Penelope and Odysseus had the feeling of "feels like there was almost no years of separation" as they can be in-sync and "are like they were before". They're older, wiser, but he still does the funny voice that makes her laugh. She's still ticklish on her neck. So much is the same. It'll be fun to learn what's different.

Except the PTSD.

And Odysseus is basically just trying to force himself to be "normal". He's bottling things up but not pushing away. Some war stuff he's shared as there were games and some fun stories (also not as recent) But he doesn't share Circe or Calypso with Penelope at first. And he definitely doesn't want Telemachus to know. But he's not pushing away. If anything he wants them even closer than ever. And doesn't really like them being away from him.

He usually has to be the one to make "first contact" or "first touch" (don't go up behind him...ever) but he is very physically affectionate so...kind of works.

Though it saddens Penelope, as this is all Telemachus knew, he's not too affected. As to him, Odysseus is already so loving and wonderful to him and so he just sees his moments of war flashbacks and fear and his violent outbursts against others are just... Dad. He knows it's strange but no one's perfect. He's fine most of the time otherwise. He kisses his and his mother's cheeks and is trying to learn pottery from him. But Penelope knows this is not normal. Plus he's sharing some things with her that he would rather keep hidden from Telemachus forever.

Before she could always just hold him and basically do whatever and he melts. She now needs to go slow and always give some sort of warning. He usually meets her halfway, so that helps. Something he did before but...There is so much lost and that needs time.

Slowly reaching her hand out to his face? He grabs it and leans into it. She didn't need to go slow before. She opens her arms? He flops into it. Before, she could've grabbed his hand and basically pulled him into her.

He always has to be in control now and he's mad at himself for it.

"That's your son. Why did your son's joyful shouts make you think of the screams of the young men in war. Your son is fine. There's no war here. You made sure of that. That's your wife. Your wife that you've longed for 20 fucking years and you still wake up weeping and think you're with the goddesses again. Hold her. Let her hold you. Stop crying. Let her hold you. That's what you want."

He's like a cat who digs their claws into you to keep you to them. He's angry at himself for getting scared/upset and...in a way HAS to let it be known that even though he's a mess, he NEEDS them. Always has.

He can't be the little spoon anymore. He can't have her sleep/rest on top of him anymore. He can lay on her and be the big spoon but as he was basically a "doll" for Calypso and manipulated and tricked by Circe, there are certain things he can't have done to him. If he gets in his funks, he sometimes has to have it where he holds her and she's completely still before he gives her the go-ahead to hold/touch him in return. Sometimes he has to quiz her questions only she would know. And then he just cries. He won't talk about it for a while. :')

As he and Laertes shared some of the same "adventures" with the same beings, they bond over that :D Also, with his older cousin Jason? "I don't like him. >:( He always would fuck up my hair by messing with it."

In their Early marriage, they tried each other's "hobbies". Aka Odysseus tried weaving and Penelope tried woodcarving. Two of their most prized possessions is a fucking ugly wooden duck and a little blanket that is uneven and has some holes in it. When he doesn't see his blanket next to her duck when he returns, he's worried and a bit sad but then Penelope reveals that she sleeps with it :') the dye is faded and some parts are clearly rewoven so it won't fall apart.

[astrowaffles]

aiming for your heart

general audiences | tomo-chan is a girl! au | for @fengqingaction

“I have something to tell you,” Feng Xin blurted out, coming to a stop.

Mu Qing stopped walking and turned around. “Is it important? I kind of have to get home-“

“I like you,” Feng Xin interrupted.

Mu Qing stared at her.

“No, I-I mean, I love you,” Feng Xin corrected, fiddling with her fingers.

Mu Qing stared harder, narrowing his eyes a little like he was trying to figure out what she was saying. Feng Xin allowed him to scrutinise her, hoping he could see her sincerity or something and praying he didn’t ask a stupid question like ‘why?’.

“Hmm,” said Mu Qing, which sounded an awful lot like the lead-up to a rejection. Feng Xin braced herself as Mu Qing opened his mouth-

“I love you too, bro. Where’d this come from? Are you dying?”

Oh.  He hadn’t understood at all. He hadn’t even considered that this might be a romantic confession, that Feng Xin might have romantic feelings for him, and now he was walking away and chattering about how he wished Feng Xin was dying so he got an excuse to dress up for the funeral, and Feng Xin never really got a chance to explain herself.

She sighed. Well, Mu Qing wasn’t going anywhere, was he? There was always another chance. “Hey! Wait for me!!” she called, rushing to catch up.

Yeah. She could just try again tomorrow.

“THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING!” Feng Xin yelled, slamming her head down onto her desk. “He’s such an idiot!”

“There, there,” Xie Lian soothed, stroking her hair. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“It’s hopeless!” Feng Xin complained, turning her head to the side so she wasn’t face planted into the wood of the table. “I don’t think he even knows I’m a girl!”

“He does,” Xie Lian said, though she didn’t sound very confident about it. “He can’t be that oblivious. Don’t worry, everything will work out.”

“When?!” Feng Xin wailed despairingly. “I’ve been trying for weeks!”

“Maybe he just needs a little push,” Xie Lian suggested. She stopped stroking Feng Xin’s hair in order to pull her phone out from her bag. “Should we google it?”

“No, it’s all stupid advice, I’ve tried.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian stowed her phone away and tried to think. “What’s something super girly that you could do to make him notice?”

“I dunno. I wear a skirt and I have long hair, what else does he need?”

“Don’t be stereotypical,” Xie Lian admonished. “Besides, your hair isn’t that long.”

Well, that was true. Feng Xin had an uneven and shaggy bob, which barely seemed like hair at all when compared with Xie Lian’s shiny, long, straight hair. Neither were her eyelashes anything to write home about compared with the luscious, jet-black ones Xie Lian’s girlfriend Hua Cheng had.

Feng Xin needed new friends. Ugly friends, if possible.

“Well, any suggestions?” she asked. Xie Lian pulled a face that was clearly meant to mean ‘yes, but I’m not sure if you can do it’.

“Just spit it out,” Feng Xin commanded.

“Well- have you tried being, um, a bit .. gentler?”

“What?! I’m very gentle! Just yesterday I rescued a frog from being run over!”

“That was after you’d punched Mu Qing for getting in the way,” Xie Lian reminded her. “Anyway, I didn’t mean literally. I meant- have you tried talking in a prettier way? You know, more feminine, more polite, something like that?”

Feng Xin considered it. “You mean, talk like you?”

“Ah-“ Xie Lian flushed. “No, not quite. But, maybe a little like me…”

“I suppose you’re in a relationship and I’m not, so it works,” Feng Xin reasoned.

“Possibly,” Xie Lian hedged. “We didn’t really have this problem, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s worth a try!” Feng Xin sat up just in time for the bell to ring. “I’ll try it as soon as I can!”

“Why are you talking like that?” Mu Qing asked.

“Talking in what way, my fine sir?” Feng Xin replied, trying to choose a sandwich.

“Like an idiot.”

Normally, Feng Xin would’ve punched him by this point, but in the name of being gentler she simply gritted her teeth and tried again.

“I am not speaking this way out of idiocy, my lord, but simply a desire to be more elegant,” she sniffed, grabbing the lunch she’d chosen.

“It’s not working,” Mu Qing told her. He was stood slightly over her, trying to choose food of his own; Feng Xin blushed a little and tried not to move so they wouldn’t bump legs. “Stop talking like a weirdo.”

At that, Feng Xin could almost feel a vein popping in her forehead. “I ask that you refrain from such-“

Mu Qing moved away, allowing Feng Xin to move too; this newfound freedom caused her to swing around too fast and almost fall into Mu Qing.

“My apologies,” she said, a little breathless.

“You sound stupid,” Mu Qing said, completely ruining the mood.

“You’re so annoying!” Feng Xin exclaimed, shoving him away.

“Hey! What did I do?!”

“You were a total moron!!”

Mu Qing looked genuinely offended at that, and reached out to shove Feng Xin back. “I didn’t do anything! All I did was say the honest truth-“

“You’re so insensitive!” Feng Xin whacked him over the head with the side of her hand.

“You’re a brute!” Mu Qing jabbed her in the side.

That annoyed Feng Xin; she drew back her fist to land him one right in the eye.

“Who’s next, please?” the cashier called.

Feng Xin scowled at Mu Qing’s pleased smirk, and moved to buy her food.

Feng Xin carried the despondency from her failed throughout the rest of the day, complaining to Xie Lian through her entire lunch break (after abandoning Mu Qing in the hallway, of course) and moping through the last lessons of the day. Even the weather seemed to agree with her, as clouds gathered in ominous black groups in the once-blue sky.

The last lesson of the day, English, ended with a rumble of thunder. A quick glance out the window proved Feng Xin’s ears correct: it was raining, hard. Thank god she’d brought her umbrella – but Xie Lian probably hadn’t.

“Maybe Hua Cheng will bring her one,” Feng Xin said hopefully, even though she knew the girls didn’t live in the same direction. Not that Hua Cheng would mind walking two ways; she loved to spend extra time with her girlfriend.

With that comforting thought, Feng Xin took her time walking to the lockers, allowing the rest of her class to rush past her and out the door as if leaving faster would make the rain any lighter. By the time she reached her locker and had changed her shoes, only a few students still lingered by the doorway; probably the ones who’d forgotten their umbrellas and were hoping the rain would ease up, Feng Xin thought.

A closer inspection revealed two of them to be Xie Lian and Mu Qing, deep in discussion about something. Feng Xin didn’t know they were that close: they’d all played together as kids, of course, but they’d never really done anything as a duo as far as she knew.

Mu Qing looked annoyed, or at least flustered. Xie Lian looked knowing and perhaps a little smug, as if she had finally managed to prove an idea she’d had for a long time.

“Hey guys!” Feng Xin chirped. “What’s going on?”

“He forgot his umbrella,” Xie Lian said before Mu Qing could say anything.

“Aren’t you here because you’ve forgotten yours, too?” Feng Xin asked her. “Do you want to share mine?”

“What are you doing?” Xie Lian whispered. “This is your chance to share an umbrella with him!”

“That’s gonna make us look like a couple!!” Feng Xin fretted.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“Stop whispering,” Mu Qing demanded. “I’m fine walking home by myself, so you go with dianxia, Feng Xin.”

The childhood nickname made Xie Lian smile a little, but she insisted, “I’ve got one coming for me. You two go on ahead.”

Feng Xin attempted to use her puppy eyes, but Xie Lian’s immunity once again came in useful as she shook her head with a slightly devious grin. “Go on, Xin’er. Look, here’s San Lang now!”

It was true. Hua Cheng was making her way down the rows of lockers, accompanied by the telltale jingling of her jewellery.

Feng Xin winced. She didn’t particularly enjoy Hua Cheng’s company and preferred to leave the two lovebirds alone, but she equally didn’t want to be left alone with her own crush.

“Go on,” Xie Lian repeated, giving her friend a little push. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Well, if you’re sure….” Feng Xin edged over to Mu Qing. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” said Mu Qing, not looking at all ready. “Let’s go already.”

“Alright, alright, don’t be so impatient.” Feng Xin opened the umbrella and stepped out into the rain. “We’re going.”

Xie Lian waved them away just as Hua Cheng arrived at the door, immediately throwing an arm over her shoulder to drag her into a side hug. Xie Lian laughed and allowed herself to be fussed over.

“Disgusting,” Mu Qing commented.

“Huh?! Don’t tell me you’re homophobic!”

“What? No!”

“Then what’s disgusting about it?”

“The PDA,” Mu Qing said, with a slight shudder. “They’re all over each other.”

“I think it’s nice,” Feng Xin defended, leaving out the it would be nicer if it was us instead.

“I guess if you like that kind of thing,” Mu Qing shrugged.

“Okay emo,” Feng Xin teased, and cleared her throat to begin her Mu Qing impression. “’I’m so sad and my soul is so dark. I relate to wilted roses and I love ‘My Chemical Romance’. My favourite song is-‘”

“Shut up,” Mu Qing snapped, but his eyes were laughing. “Hey- aren’t you gonna get under here?”

“What are you on about?”

Mu Qing rolled his eyes. “Your shoulder’s getting wet.”

Feng Xin looked across, and sure enough, her shoulder was outside of the umbrella’s range, and soaked through. She looked at the gap between her and Mu Qing; it was sizeable, but not big enough that she was willing to close any of it. It was already so uncomfortable walking alongside him like this, when normally they’d have the entire pavement to spread out over. She could smell his cologne.

It smelt good.

“Come here,” Mu Qing said, taking hold of her elbow and pulling her in. Feng Xin squeaked as she was hauled in towards her crush. "It’s your umbrella, you know. You should be under it.”

“But you’re the guest,” Feng Xin argued, trying not to think about their shoulders, which were touching.

“What kind of guy would I be if I let a girl get soaked through while I sheltered under her umbrella?” Mu Qing returned.

“So you do know,” Feng Xin noted.

“Huh? Know what?”

“That I’m a girl.”

“Duh??”

Well, this was potentially worse than just not knowing at all. If Mu Qing didn’t know, then when he found out, Feng Xin would have another chance at confessing, she mused. Mu Qing jostled next to her as they walked in step; she tried not to notice as the amount of shoulder touching slowly increased. But if he’d known all along, ever since they were younger, maybe even since they’d met-

“On second thoughts, you can have the umbrella!” she wailed, overcome by the casual contact. She shoved the handle at Mu Qing and immediately set off running.

“Wha- hey! Come back!” Mu Qing called.

Feng Xin heard him set off after her. They’d trained karate together ever since they were little, and once upon a time, Feng Xin could be sure of beating him in every match. Now they were grown up and Mu Qing’s testosterone had kicked in, there was practically no way she could win in a test of physical strength.

Well, she still won the karate matches. Just not the fistfights.

Either way, Mu Qing ran faster than her if everything else was equal, and she really didn’t want him to catch up, even if he was still carrying the open umbrella and slipping a little on the wet pavement. She put on a burst of speed that drew a frustrated squawk from Mu Qing behind her.

“WHY ARE YOU SPRINTING?!” he screamed, umbrella flapping as he ran.

“JUST WALK NORMALLY!” she screamed back, not slowing. She couldn’t go back there, not back to the warm haven of Mu Qing’s scent and casual, almost unnoticed physical contact, walking side by side like they were- like they were dating or something.

“NO!” Mu Qing hollered, speeding up. Feng Xin started to panic; he was gaining on her.

Her legs were beginning to tire, tensed from trying to keep her grip on the slippery concrete and stressed from trying to keep ahead of someone she knew would catch up eventually. She skidded to a halt as best she could, hoping he wouldn’t notice and would just speed past.

To her dismay, he noticed, sliding to a stop next to her.

“What…was…that..about?” he forced out through wheezing gasps, hands on his knees.

“Nothing,” she shrugged.

Mu Qing held out the umbrella and she obediently took it from him, sheltering them both while still trying to maintain as much distance between them as she could.

“If it was nothing….don’t do it,” Mu Qing managed, finally straightening up.

Feng Xin blushed a little at his ruffled hair and uniform. It was rare to see him like this outside of the dojo. “Sorry,” she said, and half-meant it. “Let’s walk the rest of the way.”

Mu Qing opened his mouth, probably about to say something like ‘finally’ with his signature eye roll, when he stopped. A weird sound came from the back of his throat, like he was trying to speak but couldn’t.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little red-“

Without warning, he took off at a sprint.

“HEY!” Feng Xin yelled, about to run after him. As she turned to set off, she caught herself in the reflection of someone’s window. Soaked through, hair bedraggled, skirt sticking pathetically to her thighs, and- oh. Shirt gone practically transparent with water.

In her mind’s eye, the moment replayed: tips of Mu Qing’s ears violently red and his cheeks following suit, eyes trained intensely on her eyebrows, hands clamped tightly together.

“Hm,” she pondered, evil grin forming unwittingly on her face. “If I can get a reaction like that out of him….”

…maybe she had a chance.

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