#tb fics

[arriettyspin]

I just finished chapter 8 of we moved into a real house

Tf

Count your days Tobias Kiramman

Also, here's some fanart of the latest chapter from twitter!

[spacizia]

when you need to unravel a mystery but the only other 2 adults are too busy dealing with their domestic drama

[a-slut-for-leon-kennedy]

Give me more Vampire!Arthur fics. We literally hunt down clues to a vampire and then TAKE DOWN THE VAMPIRE. Like!! That’s prime biting time baby!!!

And like I get making him a werewolf in fics cause he’s rough and rugged but that’s John’s thing!! John gets mauled by wolves!!! Let him be the werewolf and Arthur the vampire!!!

Not all vampires have to be super sophisticated and fancy!! Make Arthur a rugged cowboy vampire!! GIVE ME VAMPY ARTHUR FICS

[velveteenoutlaw]

it’s always been just you and me

[arriettyspin]

I'm going to write those Timebomb from-the-perspective-of-the-firelights one-shots so if anyone has any firelight OCs you don't mind being included please lmk through asks

[777bae]

OUT OF REACH EMIL LILLEBERG

Summary :: Emil always forgets you’re not as tall as him, constantly putting things on the top shelf just out of reach. After a few failed attempts to grab a box of pasta, you call for help—only for him to tease you as he effortlessly grabs it down. Despite the frustration, you can’t help but appreciate his charm… even if he’s a walking kitchen disaster.

Warnings :: reader is quite a bit shorter than him (Emil is like 6’2)

Word count :: 2.0k

The kitchen feels unusually cramped tonight, the space shrinking with every stretch of your arm. The air is thick with the mix of frustration and determination that’s building up inside you. Every inch you gain feels like an impossibility—like the pasta box is playing some cruel game, just barely within reach but always slipping further back when you think you’re close. You tiptoe higher, your breath catching as you stretch even more, fingertips brushing the edge, but not quite making contact.

The box of pasta taunts you with its proximity, daring you to reach it, daring you to be taller, to be more clever, to be anything but the person you are right now—straining, balancing on the balls of your feet, your entire body bending and twisting to meet its challenge. Your fingertips graze the corner of the box, but the moment you think you’ve got it, the damn thing slides away like it’s mocking your efforts.

You step back, exhaling a huff of frustration. Your arm aches from the stretch, muscles burning, yet you can’t help but feel compelled to keep trying. You’ve been at this for what feels like an eternity, and all you want is that stupid box, just a simple task, but it’s like the shelf is an enemy in some poorly scripted battle you’re never going to win.

You’ve already tried everything. The edge of the counter, the tiptoeing, even the desperate stretches with your spine curved in ways it shouldn’t be. You’ve jumped a few times too, almost knocking over the spice rack in the process. But nothing works. The top shelf remains just out of your reach, and it’s becoming an endless loop of failure. You feel a surge of irritation wash over you, the kind that turns even small tasks into mountains you can’t climb.

Just then, you hear Emil’s voice from the living room—soft, almost muffled by the low hum of the TV. It’s a lazy kind of sound, his usual drawl that lets you know he’s not really doing anything, just existing. He’s probably sprawled out on the couch, wrapped in the warmth of his own quiet, effortlessly relaxed state, while you’re here, fighting an invisible war against a shelf.

You glance back toward the living room, almost as if you’re expecting him to materialize at any moment, like he might suddenly walk in, notice your struggle, and offer some sort of unsolicited advice or assistance. But no—he’s probably lost in the game, or checking his phone, or just… completely unaware of your ongoing battle.

You can almost picture it—his easy posture, the way he probably doesn’t even realize how long you’ve been at this. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to fight with something that’s supposed to be easy, to have something just out of reach, no matter how hard you try. His world is probably so effortlessly simple, and here you are—on your tiptoes, straining with a dumb box of pasta like it’s the most important thing in the world.

The frustration builds again, and you let out a long, exasperated sigh, as if the air itself is feeling the weight of your irritation. You can’t just give up—not after everything.

You stretch again, pushing your body higher, giving a little hop in a last-ditch effort to finally grasp the elusive box of pasta. It’s no use. The box taunts you, stubbornly staying just beyond your reach. Your fingertips graze the bottom corner again, but it slides away, like it’s playing its own game with you. Frustration builds in your chest, and your breath comes in short, sharp bursts as your muscles scream in protest. This was supposed to be easy.

You stand there for a moment, frozen in a mix of disbelief and irritation, your arm still outstretched, hovering in the air. The feeling of helplessness gnaws at you—how can something so simple be so maddening? The corner of the shelf, so close yet so far. Your gaze flickers to the rest of the kitchen, but the air feels too heavy, and you just need to let it out.

With a dramatic sigh, you drop your arm, the sense of defeat hanging over you. You turn to face the empty space behind you, shaking your head. This is absurd. He had to put it there, didn’t he? The box of pasta. The one thing you can’t reach.

You throw your hands up in exasperation. “Emil!” you call, the words coming out louder than you intended, a mixture of frustration and resignation in your voice. The name cuts through the silence of the kitchen, a sharp cry for help. You wait, your pulse still racing as you let the annoyance settle in.

You hear the familiar sound of Emil shifting on the couch—his casual movement, a shift of weight on the cushions—before his voice drifts toward you, muffled and unconcerned. “Yeah?”

A second later, your irritation creeps up again, this time spilling out in an exaggerated tone, the kind of thing you didn’t mean but can’t hold back now. “Can you come in here for a second?” you call out again, the words dripping with the kind of annoyance you usually try to suppress, but tonight, it’s all spilling over. You don’t even try to hold it in; you’re done. You need help, but you’re going to let him know how ridiculous it all feels.

The sound of him standing reaches you next, the soft shuffle of footsteps that tell you he’s not rushing. A few moments pass before he appears in the doorway, moving with the same laid-back ease that’s practically his trademark. His hands are casually shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants, his posture relaxed as he leans against the doorframe, eyeing you with a faint glint of amusement already tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes flick up to the top shelf—your target—and then back to you, still standing there on your tiptoes, arms stretched up, straining for the box of pasta that’s just out of your grasp.

He raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You still trying to get that?” he asks, the teasing lilt in his voice impossible to ignore. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he knows exactly what’s going on. And maybe he does—maybe he’s been watching you struggle from the living room, quietly enjoying the show.

You roll your eyes dramatically, letting out a long exhale as you throw your hands up in mock surrender. “Yes, and I swear, if that pasta box is laughing at me right now, I’m going to lose it,” you say, your voice a mixture of exasperation and playful exaggeration. The frustration still pulses under your words, but you know you can’t take it too seriously—after all, it’s just pasta. Right?

Emil chuckles at your theatrics, his chest vibrating with amusement. He uncrosses his arms and steps forward, a slow, deliberate movement that only adds to the easy confidence he exudes. His arms fold back into his chest as he leans against the counter, watching you with a half-amused, half-sympathetic expression. “You know,” he starts, his voice light but with a teasing edge, “if you just asked, I’d grab it for you.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes as you give him an exaggerated, dramatic pout, trying to mirror his smugness. “I’m trying to maintain some dignity here,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You take a small step back, waving your arms theatrically as you turn your attention back to the shelf. “But you—” you pause, making sure to emphasize the point—“keep putting things on the top shelf like you’re trying to make me lose my mind.”

He doesn’t even flinch. If anything, his smirk only deepens, that knowing look in his eyes never leaving. Without another word, he steps forward and reaches up to grab the box from the shelf. He does it so effortlessly that it seems almost cruel. The motion is fluid, practiced, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and he’s only half-paying attention.

He pulls the box down in a single, smooth motion, not breaking a sweat. His eyes flick back to you, a playful grin stretching across his face. “It’s not my fault you’re not as vertically gifted as me,” he teases, his tone light, but there’s that underlying sense of mischief you know too well. His words are almost too perfect, a reminder of how, in this moment, you’re not the one winning.

You huff, frustration still bubbling in your chest, and snatch the pasta box from Emil’s outstretched hand. Your fingers brush his briefly, and you can’t ignore the warmth of his touch, even if it’s just for a moment. You give him a playful shove, the kind you’ve given him a hundred times before when he’s pushed your buttons just enough. “Can you stop putting things on the top shelf like you’re some sort of kitchen god?” you ask, your voice half-mocking, half-exasperated. “I swear, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose!”

Emil’s laughter is instant, his deep chuckle rumbling in the air between you two. He leans back against the doorframe, arms still casually crossed over his chest. His eyes gleam with amusement, a mischievous twinkle you know all too well. “You’re welcome for my assistance,” he says, his tone light and teasing. “But seriously, you’d be better off just asking next time.”

You hold the pasta box up, waving it in front of him like a prize you’ve just won—an exaggerated, triumphant gesture that only makes your frustration more ridiculous. “Oh, I’ll ask next time,” you reply, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “But only if you promise to never, ever put the cereal up there again.” You give the box a little shake for emphasis, almost like you’re bargaining. “I’ll start hiding your snacks if you do.”

Emil’s grin widens, and he tilts his head slightly, as if considering your offer, but you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. “If you do that, I’ll just move all the snacks to the highest shelf of the pantry,” he says, feigning seriousness, though you know he’s enjoying this playful back-and-forth. “You’re not winning this battle.”

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms in a mock display of defiance. You give him a playful side-eye, your lips curling upward despite your best efforts to appear stern. “You just wait,” you say, a quiet promise hanging in your words. “I’ll find a way to get back at you for this.”

Emil just shakes his head, his smile broadening even more. The laughter still lingers in his voice as he pushes off from the doorframe, but he’s clearly not done with the teasing. “You’re lucky I’m around to help,” he says with a playful sigh, the words drawing out a little more than necessary as if he’s giving you some rare gift of his presence. “Where would you be without me?”

You roll your eyes in exaggerated disbelief but can’t help the smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. There’s something about him—something about the way he teases, so effortlessly, without even trying—that softens your irritation every time. “Probably managing just fine, actually,” you mutter, trying to keep up the act, but the grin that you can’t suppress says otherwise. “But it’s good to know you’ll always be there when I need you to—what was it? Rescue me from the shelf?”

“Exactly,” he says with a wink, his voice dripping with mock-heroism, and you can almost hear the dramatic music playing behind his words. He turns to head back toward the living room, the casualness of his steps belying the smugness in his grin. “It’s a full-time job, you know. I’m basically a hero around here.”

You can’t help but laugh at his antics, the sound escaping you before you can even think to hide it. You watch him saunter back into the other room, shoulders relaxed, a confident air about him. You stand there for a moment, the faintest smile still tugging at your lips as you shake your head, knowing full well that maybe, just maybe, you secretly appreciate having him around—even if his brand of “help” involves ridiculously high shelves and pasta-box placement strategies.

“Hero,” you mutter under your breath, still smiling as you shake your head, half in disbelief, half in fondness. “Yeah, sure.” But you both know the truth—you’d never trade him for anything else.

[arriettyspin]

@littlebitofhaze13 ‼️

“Jinx laughed at something Ekko said, tilting her head back, and Ekko was just looking at her…”

Does anyone else read wmriah or is it just me. Bc this last chapter was fucking crazy.

[starry-nights12]

Since Heaven has heterochromia her right eye is pink while the other is brown. She inherited shimmer from Jinx and gained super speed.

It activates when she's excited or her adrenaline is high- she likes causing trouble, so getting chased is a thrill for her.

She knows both of her eyes are pretty. She thinks it's really cool how her pink eye glows like Jinx. Sometimes she likes close the door in the bathroom to look at it in the mirror.

One day, in the Firelights Base:Jinx and Heaven are playing tag when their shimmer kicked in.

There was blur of pink and blue as they chase each other. Heaving is screaming excitedly and they're both laughing.

Ekko watching them play and has him feeling a mixture of emotions: Love,happiness, and an odd sense of fasicnation.

When Heaven is playing with kids,she's really fast compared to them. With Jinx,even with the shimmer, her legs are still little and can't catch up to her yet.

The irony isn't lost on how he hated shimmer and what it did to people. He created the Firelights in order to try and stop the flow of the drug: Only for it to resurrect his wife and be passed on to their daughter.

He doesn't hate their eyes nor disgusted by them. He doesn't lay awake at night tossing and turning at night agonizing about it.

It's just sometimes he thinks that if he was able to save Jinx then her and Heaven's eyes would have been blue instead.

[a-still-small-vox]

My kingdom for people drawing Newt with long hair like in the book

[arriettyspin]

Timebomb fics published between season 1 and 2 hit DIFFERENTLY I swear.

While there are some incredible fics published post-season 2, too many of them fall into the same pit traps the show did (Jinx's mental illness being downplayed, Ekko having no personality or relationships outside of Jinx, the Firelights being ignored etc).

Whereas post-season 1 fics are more likely to nail their dynamic.

Just listening to Ma Meilleure Ennemie while reading doomed timebomb fics from season 1 where they let their walls down for a moment to show their love, knowing they’ll return to being enemies. Highly recommend.

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game (1)

au where bruce is attracted to his robins and batgirls. he tries not to think about it or act on it, but it's getting more difficult with every new member of his team he acquires. does anyone know? do the robins and batgirls notice his weird behavior? what do they do about it? do they ever find out the truth? who would think it's terrible and who would find it strangely hot/comforting/nice? does bruce ever act on his feelings?

for the ask game!

oh my GOD do i have thoughts for AUs like this, i love this shit so dearly, dirtybadwrong Bruce who's trying to keep a lid on it my beloved.

i think the fun of this AU is if characters would notice Bruce lusting for themselves vs would they notice Bruce lusting for a different Robin/Batgirl. like does Dick pick up on it when it's just him and Bruce? no, because it's just. him and Bruce. he and Bruce are weird and complicated and hold endless bounds of nuance. that's just How Bruce Is, and Dick is the "test run", in a sense. he knows Bruce is new to this whole sidekick/family thing and is giving Bruce grace for being rough around the edges. but when Bruce starts looking at Jason or Tim or Cass that way, that's when Dick starts to notice. it's never enough of a suspicion he feels justified to bring it up, but the thought lingers. he's hyperaware and grows less and less comfortable with leaving them alone with Bruce. it's a weird game of chicken, Dick and Bruce staring each other down when Bruce's touch lingers too long. each waiting for the other to say something first. if Bruce ever broke and actually acted on his feelings, Dick would be eaten alive by the guilt of knowing something was up, but never saying something until it was too late.

obviously, Cass would know. there's no world where Cass *doesn't* know, the nature of who and what she is would immediately clock it. but the issue is, Cass doesn't have a good framework of what family looks like. she doesn't really understand familial vs romantic love bc she has no firsthand experience of what a parent's love should even look like. so she never calls it out. she just watches. i'm a fan of Cass believing this is normal and believing she too can express and act on attraction that's vaguely incestuous. maybe it's with Babs, maybe it's with Dick or Tim or Bruce himself. but she recognizes this as Normal and Accepted within the Batfamily, so it severely fucks up her understanding of familial love and i just. man it's my favorite thing about Cass in Batcest honestly, is how you can play with her lack of experience with love, boundaries, and sexuality.

Tim is the fun one for me. because my favorite flavor of BruTim is when Tim knows, as he agrees to be Robin, that there's a non-zero chance that Bruce is going to be Weird and agrees anyway because he's decided it's an acceptable risk. so Tim knows from the get-go because he's expecting it. if Bruce acts on his attraction, i think it's either with Tim or Cass first, because they're the most likely to confront him about it in a way that isn't entirely negative. Tim has accepted it's a possibility and Cass just seeks being loved and touched so. it leads to the first time someone's ever confronted Bruce about it. and the thing is, Bruce really doesn't like confrontation about his flaws. the first time Tim tries to imply he's okay with it, Bruce would lash out at the idea, tell Tim how inappropriate that is and benches Tim for a week. it'd probably take a united front from Cass and Tim to get Bruce to even *admit* to the attraction. still Bruce wouldn't allow it to happen and he brushes them off until finally, the dam breaks. it's fun if there's a cause like sex pollen, but i think it's *more* fun if it's just. a random fucking Tuesday and finally Bruce is at his limit. he has no real reason, there's nothing particularly different about that day's routine. he just sees Tim or Cass striping armor and sighs and gives in.

i don't think Steph, Jason, or Babs would notice until anything substantial happened. not because they're not wicked smart, but just because none of them were looking for it. Jason put Bruce on a pedestal when he was alive, and when he came back from the dead he wasn't close enough to be noticing Bruce's interpersonal dynamics outside of his narrow scope. Steph has no real framework for what healthy fatherhood looks like, so if Bruce's touches linger, if he stares too long, she just shrugs and assumes it's how it is. and Babs was just never quite close enough to Bruce to notice. if and when she notices, is when actual sexual things start to happen between Cass and Bruce. because Cass would see no reason to hide it. Babs would be pissed, but it'd be tricky to navigate. Cass would be an adult, even if she's only 18/19, so technically, she's old enough to be consenting. if nothing else, Bruce is a careful man. even when he breaks and gives in to his desires, he covers his tracks well. he makes sure he has enthusiastic consent and there's no legal recourse that could be taken. age of consent and all that. there's not much Babs can *do* other than try to tell Cass (and/or Tim) that this isn't normal or okay. not that it gets her anywhere, but god would she try.

by the time Duke comes along (if we venture out of the pre-Flashpoint era) i think it's a sort of. open secret, in the Batfamily. talked about in nothing but hushed whispers and knowing glances. at some point, they've all had sex with Bruce, caving all for different reasons. some more than others. Tim sees it as a duty, Cass sees it as a way of seeking comfort, Steph sees it as getting Bruce's approval for once, etc. it's never forced on them, but eventually, they all come to Bruce sooner or later. and that's the fun irony of it, i think. they try to convince the others not to, but would go to Bruce on their own well. because complicated reasons they can't put into words. sometimes, Bruce is just a messy man who doesn't realize how prized his Attention to for the rest of the Batfamily. that weird duality of not liking him, but also wanting desperately for him to like you. all of them have dealt with it, at some point. so for Duke, it takes a while for him to understand this... whole dynamic. it's Cass who tries to explain it to him, and he's a little horrified, a lot confused. especially when Bruce starts staring at him a little too long as well. i think he'd only want to watch first but well. they all cave eventually.

also fun bonus if we venture into the Dark Knight Returns universe for my bestest girl Carrie Kelley: there's such a like, "i'm fucking around and i'm finding out" vibe to Carrie. like Tim, she's very proactive in just. deciding she's going to be Robin and she's ready for whatever that entails. (IMO canon Carrie is closer to fanon Tim than canon Tim is but *that* deserves its own post-) like she takes one look at the old man that is Batman and goes yup. he's never fucking getting rid of me now. if Bruce started having weird feelings about her, i think she'd have *fun* with it. she's decided she's in it for the long haul and for whatever being Robin means so. she's almost teasing about it, seeing how hard she can push before Bruce snaps. since it's an older, gruffer Bruce, i think he'd express open annoyance at it first, almost a sort of banter about how Carrie behave. but of course he caves and Carrie leans into it, because there's a fun in having all of Bruce's attention to herself. in the main timeline, Bruce is pretty split with so many Robins and Batgirls, but during their era, it's *just* her and him and she's very proud she's got him all to herself.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 38 - Pace

Story so far

(From 34 for the story of this particular meeting)

Previous chapter 37 - Warmup

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They took the long route - the path across the fields and the slow climb skirting the cliff edge. Scott let Estera set an easy pace, meaning they could chat about this and that as topics came to mind. Estera pointed out the latticework of metal supports, disguised as similar native plant life, that had been installed as a community project to slow the rate at which the hillside was crumbling into the sea. Bez took great delight in bringing him drool-soaked samples of local plant life to admire.

Scott, in turn, pointed out one of the new high capacity low emission passenger planes flying so far above it appeared to Estera to be little more than a tiny cross in the sky. Apparently it was all about the angle of the wings - he’d been midway through a more detailed explanation when he suddenly put on a burst of speed to race a seagull which had overtaken him while riding the warm air currents rising from the sun-blasted cliff face. Bez, sensing a real challenge at last had dashed after him barking with joy.

She’d been well aware that a steady hilly-10k pace for her was likely to be barely more than a stroll for him, but still couldn’t help a quiet exclamation at the demonstration of just how much ground those long legs could cover in a few seconds when he really went for it.

The seagull still won though, with Bez a close second. Scott looped back round with an expression that dared her to make a point of it and Estera merely smiled and asked if he knew gulls could exceed 30mph. He did not, but proceeded to tell her a great deal about falcons, and the peregrine in particular as that was the fastest. She made a mental note to find out whether the local raptor breeding programme was accepting visitors.

Together they circled the field at the top and threw themselves back down the hill to double back and take the woodland trail. This was her secret weapon, the part where being lighter with a lower centre of gravity and shorter legs would be an advantage - the slope exceeding 30 degrees in places and the irregular steps exactly the wrong distance apart to take two at a time, or get any kind of real rhythm going.

Of course the point was not to run it - the route carved through the trees was aimed at those who wished to wander slowly through the fragrant sea of native bluebells without trampling the protected plants. But Estera found that they could be appreciated perfectly well at a slightly more vigorous pace. She called Bez over and he obediently lolloped up the slope just ahead, resisting the temptation to scamper about in the undergrowth.

The incline made it trickier to talk but they managed a brief slightly breathless debate about whether the flowers were in fact blue or purple. It transpired Scott’s definition of blue was rather more restrictive. Nevertheless he seemed impressed by the view.

They reached the top of the slope and emerged blinking into a more open area. Here the path flattened and broadened out into a meandering grass-lined trail under a much thinner canopy. They paused to catch their breath and turned to allow themselves to be a little impressed at the height they had climbed in such a short time. The waterfall of blue, unmoved by such achievements, continued to flow down the hill beneath their feet as it had done for centuries before.

“Well I confess you handled the hill better than I expected for someone who usually runs on a tropical island.”

Scott chuckled.

“What?”

“It’s a volcano.”

“Your island?”

“Yep. The house is built into the side and the lava tubes and caverns were converted into, uh…” he looked around furtively “… spaces… for the other things we keep there. So all of the running tracks are pretty steep in places.”

“Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean?”

“You actually have a volcano lair! Like proper supervillains. Do you fling your enemies into pits of molten rock?”

Scott responded with a wild stare and a deeply disturbing evil laugh, in such contrast to his usual light chuckle, and so very out of character that Estera couldn’t stop her jaw dropping in shock as she stopped in her tracks.

There was a beat of silence then he winked and both of them began gigging for real. Which, as Bez crept out from the bushes, confusion written all over his muddy face, quickly escalated into full-blown hysteria.

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Estera staggered to a grassy patch at the side of the path and sagged to the ground, leaning back on her hands and gasping for breath as tears ran down her face. Scott smiled fondly / grinned as he dropped down beside her, hiccuping slightly as he tried to gain control of his own breathing.

He might well be becoming just a little addicted to the rush that making her laugh provided.

“So how long have you been practising that one?”

“What are you suggesting? That evil glee doesn’t come naturally to me?”

She raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes in response.

“Fine. John and I blitzed all the Matrix movies in our teens. He was so taken by all the layers of meaning in that scene whereas I just wanted to nail Agent Smith’s maniacal laugh… took me months of eyeballing my reflection in the mirror to get the expression right but was worth it for the reaction I’d get from the girls at school.”

“Oh really?” Both eyebrows were raised this time and he suddenly found himself blushing.

“I was an awkward, clueless, hormone-ridden teenager… I had to use whatever underhand tactics I could to impress.”

“I find that very difficult to believe, Mr leaves-a-trail-of-starry-eyed-drooling-zombies-in-his-wake”

“I do not!” Scott shifted seamlessly from mild embarrassment to slightly grumpy. Why did people think this? The way his brothers talked sometimes made him sound like some deranged hypnotist who ran around breaking hearts without a second thought.

“Oh come on, did you not see that woman run straight into a tree moments after you smiled at her?”

Scott couldn’t even remember smiling at anyone. He looked back the way they had come, suddenly worried “Was she hurt? We should have stopped!”

“She was fine. She bounced off and kept running.”

“Oh, good.” Scott pondered for a minute and absently plucked at the grass, suddenly unsure of himself.

“I don’t do it deliberately you know… distract people? I just try to be polite and friendly. It’s how I was raised.”

“Sure sure… you have zero control over the power of the dimples…”

“That’s just my face! It’s the only one I have!”

“Oh indeed, the dashing good looks must be a terrible burden.”

He was about to launch into a defensive rant when he caught her eye and realised, belatedly, she was winding him up… he swallowed the rant. Then with superhuman strength held back the incredibly witty retort that came to mind about how lucky it was she was obviously immune to his powers… because he wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t make it sound like he was bothered by that. Which he wasn’t. It was a relief actually.

Instead, he tutted dismissively and threw the handful of grass at her. While she spluttered and scraped greenery from her tongue he shifted the conversation back to more comfortable ground.

“ANYWAY nowadays I just use the laugh to surprise the Tinies when they think they can sneak up on me. Have derailed a few pranks that way. Occasionally I just do it down the comm to freak Johnny out.”

“Maybe I should try it at school…”

“I didn’t have you down as the “terrify the tiny kids into obedience” kind of a teacher.”

“Oh not with the children! I meant in the staff room. The social politics are… quite something.”

“Oh! I’d have thought teachers would always be mature, pleasant people.”

“Wow, no. No no no. There are some absolute vipers. The malicious gossip, the looks, the not-so-subtle exclusion… well. The rest of us try not to give them any mind. I just hope they don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour in their classrooms.”

“Hmm. And if they are all wondering if you’re about to snap and feed them to your rabid alligators that might improve things?”

“Might be worth a try…”

“It might.” He nodded wisely, then smirked. “Maybe I should consider using it at board meetings…”

“You mean you haven’t before now?”

“Funnily enough, no. I’ve been going for the benevolent but all-seeing figurehead vibe rather than dangerously insane megalomaniac.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

Scott lay back and peered up at where the cloudless sky was visible through the leaves overhead. Green and blue swirled together for a moment as a bird landed in the canopy and the branches swayed violently.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “The Board think benevolence is weakness and fight me at every turn. The all-seeing bit is exhausting and if I’m honest with myself probably impossible. It all moves so fast… and you know I like fast but… this is different. As soon as I catch up more happens and I’m just waiting for something I miss to turn out to be incredibly important.”

Estera made a sympathetic noise and there was quiet for a moment but for the sound of the sea birds and mildly disconcerting sound of the dog gnawing on a lump of wood a few metres away. He suspected she was watching him but refused to open his eyes until he’d got the rush of sickening overwhelm under control.

Then she poked him in the side of the head.

“Don’t you have rather well-paid people to do the all-seeing bit for you?”

He grimaced “Eh, they might miss something.”

“Like what?”

He opened an eye to see her sat cross-legged with her head tilted to one side, her expression somewhere between curious but patient and… encouraging? Kind of maternal… he suddenly realised. Huh, you can take the teacher out of kindergarten but…

“Well I get these “executive briefings”” he paused to add the air quotes and then as if a stopper had suddenly been removed he continued in an unmeasured tumble of words: “And they are fine… good? Well, fine. But short? And it’s hard to trust that everything is there, you know? What if they are just telling me what they think I want to hear? Y’know? Or some small thing they don’t think is important turns out to be vital. It’s just… I get copied in on all these emails y’know? So I figure that means people expect me to know what was in them. But I can’t remember all that so I have to make notes and then, well then I have to double check my notes haven’t missed something and…” he petered off with an embarrassed half smile and a small wave of a hand. “You get the idea.”

“Have you got any reason not to trust your staff?”

“No! They are excellent! Couldn’t ask for better!”

“So…”

“I know… I know. I’m making it harder than it should be.”

“You? Surely not…” another gentle prod to the head. He poked his tongue out in response. Then propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her seriously.

“The thing is… what worries me is… I can’t waiver for a second.” He looked around, suddenly paranoid again. “If someone overheard this conversation, if the market got a hint… if some stock broker guessed I wasn’t 100% confident… the share price would go through the floor and everything would fall apart! We couldn’t run IR for long without the income from the business. And so many employees and their families depend… not to mention everyone who needs the tech we’re making. That’s why I have to know it all, if a question comes in a press conference and I don’t have the answer…”

“Then you smile charmingly and you fudge it, Scott, like every other CEO on the planet.”

“I… wish I could.”

“You really can. Listen…” she reached over and placed her hand on top of his, and he slightly relaxed his vice grip on the grass beneath him and looked up at her warily. “It’s not actually all about the dimples, Blue…”

“I am not flirting with the Board” he interrupted. Suddenly feeling grouchy and exposed, he averted his eyes back to the treetops and tried to pull his hand away. She laced her fingers between his and held on firmly.

“Let me finish, Scott.”

“Sorry” he mumbled hurriedly. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact he was ridiculously susceptible to the Teacher Voice and felt slightly guilty that he had provoked her to use it. And he did value her opinion even if he was already convinced he would disagree with it should it be complementary. He inclined his head, inviting her to continue.

“The reason you are good with people is because you give a damn about them. It shines out of your every interaction - I see it on tv when you answer questions from journalists, when you talk to a barista, when poor Gary was having a meltdown… it’s not a common enough trait and it gives you such influence. If people feel valued they want to please you. I don’t know what it’s like in your meetings but if the Board went up against you in the court of public opinion they wouldn’t stand a chance and if they are business people of any sense they will all know that.” Perhaps the desperation to believe this was showing on his face as she squeezed his hand again. He swallowed and made a non-commital grunt

“The reason your business is doing so well is a lot to do with you, but that doesn’t mean you have to be in control of every tiny aspect of it. You’re going to crash and burn if you keep trying to do it all, Scott. You can’t keep up this pace forever. Even if you can you shouldn’t, it’s terrible for you.”

“What if they find out I’m faking it?”

“Everyone is, Scott. You’re no more a fraud than anyone else.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ ✨✨

[virginreprise]

if you slap joel miller and arthur morgan together, looks and personality, you will have created my dream man.

[enihk-writes]

[at the end of a burnt wick]

pairing: tang bo x afab!she/her!reader

NOT exactly an x reader because i didn't want tang bo and reader's relationship to be romantic, tried to make them platonic / co-workers like ah-duo and the emperor from the apothecary diaries + implied tangchung because all roads lead to old men yaoi

summary: anthology of a married pair

content warning: archaic wedding practices mentioned (i.e. having to consummate a marriage against the will of both parties) // stillbirth and child loss (disconnect with traditional expectations of parenthood)

word count: 6.66k

author's note: my roman empire lately is about how i used to audition to nijisanji and only niji at least 3-4 times (didn't even pass the first stage lol) before i got really fixated with rotbb.... maybe one day i will try my hand at vtubing and streaming again... for now it's fanfiction time ragggghhh!!!!! fictional men 4ever!!!!

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

═══════════════

FIRST MEETING

the first time the young tang bo met her, was when he was a little over fifteen.

she was also just as young as he — a wee lass that had yet to lose the childlike roundness of her cheeks, round eyes that seemed to sparkle in wonderment at all the grandeur around her. tang bo didn't understand what was so special about the surroundings, he'd grown up here all his life and had already seen most of anything money could buy. this girl was weird.

he didn't find out until much later that this was the first time she had ever left the four walls of her room, much less her own home.

he thinks that it was no wonder she had looked so amazed with everything she saw back then. he can't imagine a life where he had to live constrained to one place, going through the same routine everyday would have bored him to death.

he wasn't looking forward to future conversations with that girl — he was certain she would be utterly dull and boring.

═══════════════

ENGAGEMENT

tang bo was furious that the elders had went and signed off the engagement contract without even asking for his approval. he had been meeting with countless hopefuls for a few years by now, and he'd been able to fend them all off by acting in ways that had all these well-bred ladies huffing and puffing in indignation. crying to their fathers that they would rather die than marry a man like he.

so who was it that agreed to this!

tang bo mutters under his breath, teeth gritted, fists clenched. he had to see with his own two eyes the woman who was stupid or desperate enough to let herself be wed to the likes of him.

elder!

the young man throws open the doors to the main hall, not caring one bit about the guests sitting inside. the elders and the patriarch in question frowned at his behaviour, biting their tongues from chastising him in front of strangers.

his gaze lands on a familiar face, a little older and a lot less naive, but familiar nonetheless. he didn't know that a person's demeanour could change so drastically in a few years.

tang bo's hands fall to his sides, he shuffles towards the end of the table, plopping down on the empty spot across his soon-to-be betrothed. he eyes her figure, chewing on the inside of his mouth, trying to come up with something to insult her with.

tang bo—

the patriarch didn't even get the chance to finish his sentence when the young man scoffs at the girl's face, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a sneer.

really? her?

tang bo glances over at the heads of his family, finger pointing rudely in the girl's face. they all sigh, knowing what was about to come from the impudent boy. they could only hope this girl wouldn't take his jabs to heart.

hey you.

he juts his chin at her.

all my other candidates looked prettier than you. hey, did you even bother to put in any effort when coming to meet me?

she ignored him, sipping on her tea serenely. the girl's guardians shift in their seats nervously. ah, this young master has yet to face their mistress' infamous anger.

tang bo clicks his tongue.

oi, did you even — hey!

he didn't expect her to splash the remainder of her drink onto him. the warm liquid splatters across his face and drips down his now damp hair, even the front of his robes were now soiled from the tea.

he looks over to the elders of his family in surprise, hoping that they'd stand up for him but none met his eye. he felt betrayed when he catches some of them trying to hide the twitch of their mouths suppressing their laughs.

they all thought that it was about time someone put this boy in his place, talented and intelligent as he may be.

needless to say, the rest of the meeting went on smoothly. and it ended with the confirmation of the two's engagement. much to tang bo's despair and the girl's indifference.

═══════════════

FIRST 'DATE'

he really tried his best to drag his feet that day. the elders had arranged for an evening dinner in the newly established inn downtown with his bride-to-be and tang bo really did not want to go. he was kicking up a fuss with his clothes, this one was too dull, that one is too bright, it's too rough, it's too short... and so on. but when he finally ran out of excuses and the attendants tiredly managed to dress him appropriately — the sun was beginning to set.

tang bo perks up. perhaps he didn't have to go out with her after all!

he steps out of his room, surprised to see that there was no one in the courtyard. he shouldn't have felt a jolt of worry then, but he did, and he wondered if something was wrong.

where is she?

he asks to no one in particular, heading to her room three doors down from his, footfalls heavy on the lacquered wooden planks of the corridor. he hears panicked voices muffled behind the doors and throws the doors to her room open.

she sat in the middle of the room in nothing but her undergarments, surrounded by the tang estate's maids and piles of unworn clothes. she had her back facing him, and all he could see were the maids hurriedly hiding away the containers of makeup all shying away from his scrutinising gaze.

out.

the maids didn't have to be told twice. they all scurried out of her room like mice, tails between their legs and faces pursed in anxiety at being caught in the middle of something they probably shouldn't be doing. tang bo sighed heavily. to think the woman he was to marry was getting bullied, by mere maids too? he felt ashamed on her behalf. he didn't like people who were fine with others taking advantage and stepping all over them. he hated that they didn't have a backbone to stand up for themselves.

kicking off his shoes, he entered her room — nose scrunched up instinctively at the suffocating dust in the air. he looked around to see all the windows shut tightly, there were no gaps for even a sliver of light to shine inside.

how has this girl been living so far, for her to be fine with this treatment?

tang bo coughed, stumbling over to open the windows, lightheaded from the lack of breathable air. he waves his hands to chase the dust outside, coughing even harder when the little particles get all up in his face.

he hears her giggle. much to his growing annoyance, what was so funny anyway.

he sits in front of her, letting the pile of unworn clothes cushion him from the hard floor. under the orange glow of the setting sun, he sees her for the first time today, all dolled up in the most garish makeup that would have certainly humiliated her, and had he not barged in she would have had to go around in public like that.

you look uglier today.

she chuckled and hummed in response, she looks around in search of something. grabbing a rag from under the clothes, she proceeded to wipe off her painted face, only to have tang bo take it out of her hands with a soft, let me.

he holds her chin between his fingers, rubbing off the white powder that contrasted starkly against her skin, making her look sickly. he rubs off the crudely drawn-out eyebrows and the thick rouge that sat on her lips. he can't help but notice the way her lashes fluttered as she tried to keep her eyes closed. maybe his fiancee was a little cute.

with her face now bare, the girl lets out the breath she had been holding. but tang bo wasn't done yet.

where are you facing. turn back here.

he ordered pointedly, and she couldn't help but to go back into her prior position. lips and eyes squeezed shut, much like a puppy getting told off for misbehaving.

picking up a brush out of the many lying haphazardly over the vanity, tang bo dipped it's tip into the little porcelain jar left ajar. it was lipstick in a shade deep red, the type that would have looked lovely especially on her.

he holds the girl's now bare face in one hand, the brush in the other, outlining the shape of her lips with the new rouge. the feathery touch of the brush tip was ticklish, moreso with how tang bo had been holding it in an uncharacteristically gentle way as though he were a potter painting intricate patterns on a cup before he sent it off to the burning fires in a kiln.

he pinched the brush, smudging the tint against his fingers and drawing faint circles at the outer corner of her eyes.

tang bo leans back to admire his handiwork. he couldn't help but feel proud of the results. not only was he good at martial arts and medicine, he had an amazing eye for aesthetics too? where would anyone find a better husband then he?

the girl opens her eyes cautiously, her gaze meeting his. he looked pleased, boastful even.

hmph. you look more presentable now.

he hands her a mirror, and as she looks at her reflection against the shiny bronze surface, she had to agree. her fiance had done a good job with her face. maybe he wasn't all that awful.

thank you, young master tang.

the girl smiled, her eyes crinkling upwards in a smile. tang bo scoffs and looks out the window, hiding his embarrassment at her sincere words. thinking back now, this was the first he'd heard her speak, wasn't it? maybe he should pay more attention once in a while.

heh. of course you should be thanking me.

the sky and grown dark. lucky him, he didn't have to go out to that dinner with her after all.

═══════════════

THE FIRST REAL DATE

tang bo felt a little irked that she had been walking behind him even when he had slowed down to match her pace. it's almost like she had been deliberately hanging back.

you.

he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards him. she stumbled over her feet and falls over with a startled squeak.

you're my fiancee. so stand proud and walk beside me.

he declares with a hand on his hip, the grip on her wrist with his other not once loosening. he walks again, just as slow as he had been earlier, feeling a little happy that the girl no longer lagged behind.

he'd started to warm up to her, no longer seeing her as the stranger living in his house, one day to become his wife. she was more akin to a little sister he'd have to babysit.

no, actually she was more like an apprehensive kitten left on his doorstep that he'd grown to like taking care of.

buying her sweets and spoiling her with accessories she might not even have a chance to wear just because he thought she'd look cute in them has been one of his favourite hobbies these days.

why was he so anxious about getting engaged before? ever since she became his fiancee, he didn't have to go out and meet with any more annoying noble ladies clamouring over each other trying to win over his affection. the best part was that she kept to herself, and minded her own business unless it was time to visit the elders and the patriarch for afternoon tea — which he didn't mind since having her as his own personal walking event reminder has really saved him from getting scolded even more by the old farts.

ah! look! they're selling meat skewers over there! come on, let's go get some! i'm sure you'd like those too.

tang bo giggles and drags the girl over to another street vendor. ah, lucky him. he's hit the jackpot with the whole engagement game — a tolerable and cute wife-to-be, could a boy ask for anything more? guanyin-ma really was looking over him after all.

═══════════════

FORTUNE TELLER

after two seasons of living under the same roof, the heads of the tang clan decide that it was time for the two to meet with the fortune teller. set up an auspicious date through the tung shing, and be wed on the right phase of the moon and the best placement of the stars in the sky.

the young master is lucky to have found someone this compatible. it is hard for children born in his year to find a suitable partner. they say snakes rarely get along with the other zodiacs.

says the old eccentric woman who proclaimed herself to be the best fortune teller in sichuan and the one who had been checking the birthdates of all the potential brides that had been introduced to tang bo thus far. the boy felt the urge to get up and fight that hack, respecting his elders be damned, so she was the one sending him all those insufferable girls his way.

he feels a hand grab at his arm. fingers digging into his flesh enough to keep him seated. he looks over at the girl sitting next to him, expression unchanging, her body angled to lean a little closer to his.

his hand reached over discreetly to peel her fingers off him, bringing her hand down to hold his under the table, fingers intertwined. she seemed to relax a little, tense shoulders falling ever gently, her jaw growing slightly more slack.

to the untrained eye, the girl's expressions were the same. but to him, he's watched her long enough, even if it wasn't every day, to spot the subtle changes whenever she expressed herself. tang bo pats himself on the back for being such an attentive fiance.

his attention shifted from the conversation between the fortune teller and the elders to the girl's hand. they were soft and smooth, as expected of a lady of noble birth. his on the other hand were calloused from training, the tips of his fingers were starting to turn darker from the constant exposure to poisons. shit, he might have to start wearing gloves.

the girl hadn't been paying attention to the conversation going on either, spacing out until the elders called on the two. stifling their startled gasp, the two youngins stared at their elders, a confused expression painted on their faces, not one bit guilty for ignoring everything that was being said.

ah, it's good they are getting along well.

the fortune teller chuckled with a knowing glint in her eye trying to suggest something, but both tang bo and the girl didn't seem to catch her drift, the old woman's point flying over their heads.

the elders soon turn back to their discussion, talking about the best days that would suit the two.

look here, since they are both born as snakes, their auspicious numbers are two, eight and nine. i'd suggest we hold the wedding...

tang bo nudges at the girl.

hey.

she looks up at him. he leaned down next to her ear, wanting to ask her about her birthday, too embarrassed to ask about it outright in front of the elders. he didn't want to seem like an incompetent fiance to his future bride.

she hides a growing grin. it was nice of him to start paying attention to her. little steps, little steps. she wriggles her hand out of his grasp and writes down the date with her finger on the surface of his palm.

good thing their hands were under the table, or people would know about the cause of the redness dusting the back of his ears.

the meeting dragged on until late in the evening. it ended with the agreement that they were to be wed on the eighth day of the eighth month on the eighth year of the emperor's reign.

truly the most auspicious day for a union.

═══════════════

A BRIDE-TO-BE'S DRESSING ROOM

the long-awaited day came by later than expected. the previous emperor passed before he even got close to the eighth year of his reign. not wanting to change the numbers of the date, the elders decided to push the event back until the current emperor had reached his eighth year.

by then, the two had grown into a man and a woman, a lot older than the common age to be wed. but it was no matter. who would dare speak up against the tang clan's young master and his wife-to-be?

the day, hell, even the night before had been hectic. tang bo slipped past his attendants to take a peak at what was going on in her room. traditions be damned, who cares about the groom not seeing his bride until they were at the altar? that was so outdated!

what are you doing here?

she had been left alone to rest from the non-stop preparations since before dawn. tang bo walks in, careful not to make too much noise as he slides the door shut behind him.

why? can't i visit my wife?

i am not your wife.

yet~

his teasing voice moved behind her. he picked up the brush to comb out the knots that were all tangled up — the maids had put on extensions to lengthen her hair. she hadn't been able to grow them to the expected length, much to the annoyance of the maids. they hadn't been nice when attaching the accessories, she could still feel the burning sensation on her scalp.

there was no need to kick up a fuss at this point. especially in front of tang bo. this guy would have kicked out all the attendants who had been treating her poorly, but that felt like too easy of a punishment. she wanted to deal with them herself when the time comes, sorry for that, young master tang.

the leather gloves he wore were cold, and the feeling of his fingertips scratching against her scalp was soothing, enough to draw out a quiet purr from the woman. much to her shocked embarassment.

oh?

she leans away from him.

...please ignore that.

but how could he?

my wife... how can you be so cute~!

i need you to shut up right now.

═══════════════

WORLD'S MOST BORING CEREMONY

if it was any consolation, the two had agreed that this whole affair was a pain in their ass.

wife, do you know when this will end?

what makes you think i have the answer to that?

tang bo thinks his bride was lucky to have that red veil over her face. if she wanted to shut her eyes and sleep, none of the guests nor elders would be any wiser. poor old him. they should have made a veil for the goom too, which smartass decided otherwise anyway? if he ever met that person, tang bo promised he would pummel the other to the ground.

wife.

she hums in acknowledgement, bowing her head at a guest who had come up to the front to pay their blessings to the pair.

wife.

tang bo called out again, his tone getting a little impatient. wincing when he felt her pinch the skin between his thumb and index finger. he tried to smile at the strangers passing them by, feeling drained and completely spent from the day's activities. it didn't help that the noisy chatter of everyone around them was making him feel worse.

wife, you should tell the elders that you're tired and want to rest for the night... i'm sure they'd listen to you.

why me? you go!

huh? me? nuh-uh, you go!

the back and forth lasted for a bit until they both agreed to ask the elders together. after all, having a partner-in-crime to take the fall together with you was way better than facing backlash alone.

perhaps the atmosphere of a wedding had put the elders in a carefree mood, perhaps it was the result of a dozen empty wine bottles. they think it might be both, but no matter, they received permission to get out of there.

the best news either had ever heard today.

scurring away quickly, the newlyweds giggle amongst each other like kids up to no good even as they were well into their twenties. the guests and elders cooed in amusement, talking about how nice it must be to be young and in love.

though that second part was so far from the truth, when the two talk about it again in their later years, it had grown into a funny story they liked to reminisce about over a midnight drink.

═══════════════

THE FIRST NIGHT

tang bo glanced over at his wife, carrying the same grimace as she did. it was hard not to cringe at the overtly crude decorations in their now shared room.

right. that was how it was in these parts. they were now husband and wife so the elders are probably expecting the results of the two carrying out their marital duties within the next year.

i don't want to do that...

me neither...

now sitting across each other on the floor, they discuss how to trick the maids who would certainly check the bedding the next morning. if nothing happened tonight then they would be under more scrutiny. but who's to say that there won't be any surveillance after? ugh! this was all so annoying!

tang bo watched as the woman before him let out a big sigh, dropping her head into her hands. he felt sorry for his wife, it must be hard living as the new daughter-in-law of his family.

should we get this done and over with?

he suggested finally, after exhausting all their options. his wife makes a face at that, but she can't argue.

awkwardly he hands over a vial, an all-purpose antidote of sorts, in case she gets accidentally poisoned while coming into contact with him. the head had passed it to him sometime during the ceremony earlier, tang bo had been hoping he didn't have to use it, at least he held himself back from throwing the whole vial at the wall when it was given.

he didn't say it at first, but he could hear the eyes and ears surrounding them grow careless every few moments, revealing their presence by accident with an unintentional movement or sound. how uncouth of them to be watching the two newlyweds like this. it seemed she'd also noticed their presence, with how she'd glance out the windows whenever a small rustle was heard.

i'm so sorry.

he murmured an apology as he kissed her cheek — he didn't have to look to know she had a faint look of disdain, directed to no one in particular yet still stung through his heart.

it's not your fault.

so she says. but it might as well be. to him at least.

the consummation wasn't a pleasant process. neither could look at the other in the eye. the knowledge that people were standing outside the room to listen in on the completion of their marriage made this whole ordeal so much worse.

wife...i...

tang bo feels his hips stutter, his face burns in shame as his hoarse voice tries to speak.

her hands reach out to brush his hair out of his face, fingertips lightly smooth out the crease of his furrowed brows. she'd resigned herself long ago, knowing this whole process was inevitable from the time she reached adolescence. to think her own husband did not...

she felt a slight twinge of pity. the young master tang was a lot more sheltered than she had thought.

when it was all over, they scrambled to get away from the other, each sitting at the furthest end of the bed — letting what had conspired sink in. how many more times would this have to happen in the future?

she was the first to collect herself. getting up, she shuffles over to tang bo, her hand reaching out for his.

my husband, we should go and clean up.

he nodded, taking her hand in his wordlessly as she led him to the tub hidden behind the partition. after dipping the dry towels in the now warm water to wipe their bodies clean, slipping into clean nightgowns and peeling off the soiled bedspreads to throw them aside, they finally crawl under the covers, yawning tiredly.

sleep came over easily, surprisingly enough.

═══════════════

DIAGNOSIS

the questions that hung around in the air at this time of the year were all about babies, children, the next generation. everyone wanted to know which of the wedded members would be expecting soon.

most eyes were turned on tang bo and his wife.

unfortunately.

their marriage had happened over five years ago, almost ten, and all this time their other relatives who had gotten married later than they were popping out one offspring after another — yet none were to be seen for the young lord and his lady. the elders often lamented on the silence of their side of the estate.

rumour has it that their relationship was on the rocks, with how neither shared a room nor did they spend a night together like all the tang spouses — save for the occasional times they'd go to visit the other's quarters every two to three months. to scratch an itch as one might say. after all, they were still young and quite healthy, so such urges were still common occurrences. might as well do it with someone familiar rather than do that with a stranger.

the relationship between tang bo and his wife was actually far more amicable than anyone could have guessed. it was hard to describe the solace they'd found in each other's unspoken commanderie within the household. they'd been living together long enough to know virtually everything about each other, yet there was always a line drawn between them to keep the distance.

today, she wasn't here for any of their usual arrangements. tang bo had came back to find his wife nursing a cup of tea in one hand, resting it on top of a propped-up leg. she had set out a game of weiqi on the table, next to a steaming teapot and array of snacks.

looks like someone's got news.

his teasing voice called out to the woman, settling down on the seat across her. he hums in thought, contemplating his move as she places down her white bead on the board.

your uncle came over to see why we weren't having kids yesterday. he's given me the results this morning, right after you left.

the woman holds out the folded paper, a little crumpled from being kept between the layers of her robes. tang bo takes it, opening it to read what his so-called uncle had diagnosed his wife with. talk about elder butting into a youngster's business for no good reason.

this...

he says that i'm barren.

she looks down with a small smile,and it looked a little bitter. of course, how could she not be? after all that had happened those few years back?

to say that she's unable to carry a child after all she had gone through back then was such a cruel prank from the heavens. he knows his wife wanted to be a mother more than anything, to give that little baby all her love in the world or along those sentiments — as did he. so if that's not going to happen... then, what now?

they were silent as they moved their beads across the game board. contemplating their next moves and what to say to the other.

there's crab stick snacks here, you should try some.

as always, she breaks the silence first. grabbing a few sticks of the salty treat to nibble on before handing the container over to her husband. tang bo reached for the food mindlessly, thinking about how nice it'd be to have these with some sweet wine.

ah, but his wife wasn't much of a drinker so that's a bummer.

═══════════════

ONLY CHILD

he should have heard the cries of the baby.

it was quiet inside, and out where he was waiting too. the nurses and maids walked out of the room with buckets of soiled, bloody rags with their heads down and mouths drawn into a thin line — something was wrong, something had gone terribly wrong.

tang bo felt his feet move, walking towards the bedroom where the doors were still shut tightly. he weaved past the attendants trying to hold him back, all telling their young master to go back and wait.

wait? why did he have to wait when he didn't know what was happening to his wife right then? she needed him. and she needed him right now.

the midwife slides the door open just as he was about to open it himself. they both take a step back in surprise.

young master... the lady is alive and well. she is waiting inside.

the older woman bowed and scurried away from the scene to join the others in the courtyard outside.

his wife lay on her back on top of fresh bedsheets and a clean nightgown. she had a sickly pallor, lips were chapped dry with red marks of blood from where the skin ripped open. hair that was riddled with sweat stuck onto the sides of her face, the untied tresses splayed over the top of the bed. her eyes were unfocused and blank, staring straight up at the wall, mind elsewhere. her cheeks were still stained with the remnants of her tears, the evidence of what transpired within these four walls.

wife...

tang bo called out cautiously. she didn't respond, barely even moved an inch to acknowledge his presence.

next to her on the bed was a small swaddle, the stillness of what was supposed to be alive unnerved him. the child's dull skin, probably in some shade of grey, eyes that were never to open, oh.

he sits by her bedside, back facing her. he too, did not know what to say to her at that moment. he was the last person that could have possibly comforted her. well, it was his child too but they were both not lovers so this was an offspring born out of necessity rather than a genuine want. and at this point in his life, tang bo wasn't actually too thrilled about the prospect of fatherhood. not that he would resent that kid, it's just he might not have loved them like he should.

his wife, she's mentioned her anticipation of motherhood but once in a while, he'd catch glimpses of the unreadable expression she had when no one was looking — all while she rubs her growing belly. it made him think that perhaps she wasn't always telling the truth.

once there was a patient who had came to the tang estate to treat the growing tumors in his intestines and since he was a rather important guest, most of the members of the main family, the two of them included, had dropped by to greet him and wish him well for recovery. tang bo could never forget the intensity of her absent gaze at the patient's stomach, her balled fist tightening over her shawl ever so slightly.

perhaps it's good that she's dead.

tang bo feels his eyebrows rise up in shock.

you're not too keen on fathering a child either, are you?

he shakes his head.

well, that makes the two of us. the heavens must be looking out for her, keeping her away from parents like us who can't give her the love she needs.

his wife sighed deeply. her tired face falling to the side to look at him, a lopsided smile making its way onto her lips as if to ease the heavy tension of her words away. she might be right. perhaps, it was better this way. tang bo closes her eyes with his palm, patting her to sleep the way one would with a feverish child.

their daughter would later be the two's first and only child.

═══════════════

SWORDSMAN

the woman wondered how one-sided her husband's relationship with his friend was. the man was a rather expressionless fellow — his sentences were short, curt and straight to the point. her husband didn't seem to mind, with now he was almost always all over that man. ah well, she's just happy tang bo has an actual friend.

rather than worry that he was drunk off his rocker out on the streets past midnight doing who-knows-what in who-knows-where, at least now he's causing trouble with someone she could easily track. apperently, the man was a troublemaker in his own home too.

the first time she met the older sect brother of her husband's friend, they shared a look of silent understanding. ah, so you too have an oversized child to deal with.

watching tang bo come home staggering on his feet together with the man, leaning on the other for support used to riddle her with worry but now she just ushers them both into a spare room prepped with the necessary herbs to concoct a hangover remedy and hope for the best. her husband was a capable man, he would never let himself falter and die in a ditch.

in hindsight, she might have been too confident in his abilities.

the swordsman was the best thing to have happened to her husband. and it was not an exaggeration by any means. not when he looked at his happiest for the first time since she'd known him. even if they were both past their fifties and sixties.

how nice. she thinks to herself whenever she spots them together. to find your other half, your kindred spirit in this word before you died... it must be nice.

she can't find it in her to be bitter. really.

═══════════════

FIRST CHIPPING

if he were to look at what society deemed as a bastard husband, then that requisite would have had his face plastered as a prime example. the type of husband that any aspiring groom should not ever become.

though for those who were in the know, mainly his wife and himself, there was more to their marriage than what everyone saw. it didn't take long for either of them to recognise that this union had been a discreet way for them to hide away from what kids like them were supposed to act like in this rigid society.

they've stuck by each other as the only people who would have understood each other the best. so now that tang bo was finally finding the happiness he should have sought after all this time, he was always feeling the guilt of leaving her behind on her own in that house that had always been too big for just the two of them.

she has yet to utter a word of displeasure to him. that's how she was — the quiet one who kept to herself, letting things happen until the worst had passed over. it was one of the little things he detested about his wife.

he can't bring himself to really hate her. there was a time when he had opened up his heart and confided in her about some things he's been scared to come to terms with. the type of realisation one has from a very early age and has buried deep within themselves to fit into society and the expectations people had of him.

his wife had held onto his hand wordlessly, squeezing it ever so often to assure his nerves. he's never been this vulnerable before. he never thought things like this could be so frightening.

she had something to say too. but not right now. this was his moment, she's not so tactless to take it away. she can't stop thinking that if they'd been more honest earlier, then perhaps they wouldn't have hurt the other unknowingly all these years.

the walls they'd built between them were starting to come down a little — who would have thought they'd find out something new after decades of marriage.

═══════════════

COMING TO TERMS

she couldn't really understand why her husband was loudly crying into her shoulder. her good robes were getting wet from his tears and snot. how did this almost seventy-year-old man have no shred of shame — in front of the attendants no less?

she had given him her blessings earlier today, and he was now free to pursue the swordsman so why was he not going off to sweep his beloved off his feet and ride off into the sunset or whatever those romance novels say?

wife, you know you aren't obligated to be bound to me any more right? if you wish, you are also free to love someone else...

tang bo managed to say between sobs.

...thank you for your consideration.

she hesitated. what did he mean by her being free to love someone else? she can't think of a time when she'd ever felt that kind of emotion, at least not the one that every person around her was chasing after, even back when she was in her youth.

there was always a disconnect whenever the other wives she'd corresponded with ranted and raved about their husband's infidelities or little annoyances. they were always on the verge of hysteria, driven to that point out of love for their husbands they said. and she'd think about how foolish it was.

thank goodness her relationship with tang bo had not been built on a foundation that flimsy. rather, it was one based on mutual respect. which was far better—

ah but. he must have felt trapped in this marriage. not everyone in the world was like her. not everyone had been born with the inability to be like everyone else and it was unfair how they all just instinctively know what romance and lovers-love is. so to have held him back in this loveless situation for this long was a cruel thing.

the good wife, the understanding wife, the kindhearted wife. it's all that she's been the majority of her life. she doesn't know what else there was to her now that she's let-go of these titles. she's free to do what she wants. but what does a caged bird set free know?

she had packed lightly, the clothes on her back were lighter and less showy, the stark opposite of what she used to wear as the daughter-in-law of the tang family. there was not much hesitation as she donned the weimao — it's white veil falling past her knees. she looked at the darkened courtyard of their estate.

she's received enough goodwill in this lifetime. she prayed at the ancestral shrine one last time, asking them to look after everyone now that she's going off.

═══════════════

MORNING AFTER

tang bo awoke to the frantic bustle of the maids outside his room. turns out his wife had gone missing overnight without anyone noticing. he walked out of his room, wandering around the family estate until he reached the main halls where it was quieter. no one was allowed in here outside of events except for the elders and the main family.

he picks up the tattered note that had fluttered to his feet — eyes widening as he takes in the words written on it.

tch, that woman could still pull some tricks at her old age huh. he didn't think she'd still know how to surprise him. the paper was burned away on a candle flame. he wonders if he'd see his wandering wife on his travels with his taoist-hyung. would they all share a drink at the teahouse when they do? oh he hoped so. there's not much things to look forward to at this age, so at least give him some stories and a meal.

ah. he should let his taoist-hyung know about this too. before it slipped out of that old head of his.

[arriettyspin]

AU!Ekko x Jinx you say?

Jinx/Powder

God has decided that I am his best warrior and he gives me the worst battles. So many people shipping Ekko and auPowder, as if they were separate people, is making me really believe it. The fics of Ekko staying in the au and stealing the life of the innocent auEkko and his entire family being perfectly fine with it. Or Powder leaving her universe to replace Jinx and Vi being perfectly fine with it. As if Jinx's fear of being replaced had never been a fundamental part of her character. It's hard to read fics now because I feel bad on behalf of my girl Jinx, I'm slowly falling into madness. Jinx and Powder are the same person, but so many people saying the opposite are making me believe it. I demand an AuEkko and Jinx fic to feel vindicated.

Chapter 2x7 was to give Ekko hope, he was always in love with Jinx, the things he admired about her, even when they were enemies. It was Ekko realizing that neither he nor she were the people they were once, Powder never died, she grew up, a product of her environment (Silco, Zaun)

[arriettyspin]

Hey Fizz

Ik you’ve been vocal about timebomb fics and characterization gripes especially after S2

Idk if I even want to look at post S2 fics, I’ve just been sticking to authors I’m already familiar with. I was wondering if you had any recs from S1 (2021- early 2024) that you think nail their dynamic?

Hiya! I hope my criticism didn't come off as too whiny - there are so many amazing tb fics published recently, it's just that you have to hunt a bit more to find ones that get the dynamic right.

But for pre-s2 fics, My Boy Saviour is a staple in the fandom. Anything written by YourLocalPoultry is also great though their two best fics are unfinished *sobs* (I seem to remember they expressed interest in continuing them though!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35418925/chapters/88285813

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53676901/chapters/135878467

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50612917/chapters/127854244