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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years ago

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The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 22

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

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Wen Ruohan woke up groggy and disoriented.

This did not come as a surprise, as it was not particularly unusual for him: a hundred years and more, infinitely powerful cultivation, and somehow he’d still never quite gotten the hang of mornings. Once he’d become accustomed to sharing his bed with Lan Qiren, who like the rest of his sect preferred to rise at inhumane hours, the other man had routinely been able to get up, go about his morning ablutions, go outside to train, and come back to bed before Wen Ruohan even twitched his fingers in the direction of his clothing.

Not that he usually needed to get up early, of course. That was one of the many benefits of power: the Nightless City might never sleep, but it only really got going when he did. Lan Qiren had remarked several times that he found it unusual that the quietest hours in the day were the early morning, as those were often the hours most generally preferred for chores, until eventually Wen Ruohan had taken pity on him and explained that his servants and disciples had judged it better to do their chores at an hour before they risked waking up their irritable sect leader.

(“Ah, yes,” Lan Qiren had said, nodding. “I had a similar experience when my nephews were toddlers.”

“…toddlers.”

“Yes, they got terribly cranky when anything disturbed their naps. I would always refrain from doing anything too loud during that time of the day.”

“I don’t think I appreciate your comparison.”

“Comparison? I was conveying that I understood – ”

“That was a comparison, and you know it.”

“...perhaps. Truly a strange and inexplicable parallel. Perhaps even an opportunity for you to learn some form of lesson…?”

“Not in the slightest. Clearly I’ll just have to put more effort into making sure you don’t see me as a child. Perhaps something more adult instead.…?”

“Again? Already? It’s not that I object, of course, but sometimes you genuinely make me wonder: do you have no other hobbies?”)

The memory made Wen Ruohan want to laugh.

He opened his eyes, and found, to his puzzlement, that he was not in his own bed, neither alone nor (preferably) with a warm and energetic Lan Qiren coming in straight after his exercise, but rather in his favorite sickroom.

Most people would not be able to say that they had a particular preference in sickrooms, but in this, as in many ways, his Qishan Wen sect was different. His sect had been founded by a surgeon (who’d also been an assassin and a warlord, as the situation required – those needles of Wen Mao’s had been put to any number of purposes, a practicality his descendants had whole-heartedly embraced), and as a result, they had always prided themselves on their medical skills. Naturally, the Nightless City’s sickrooms ought to reflect that pride, which they did in both quality and in sheer multitudinous quantity.

The rooms were always well-equipped, well-staffed, and well-tended to, as befit a sect with their inheritance. His Wen sect disciples had even taken to dividing them up by type of illness: one reserved for people suffering from physical harms such as broken bones or sword cuts, another specializing in treating diseases, a third for cultivation problems…

Wen Ruohan was currently in the one fondly and universally known as the “you fucked up” room.

It was a large room, having at some point in the past been meant to be a warehouse, but it had been filled with room dividers to create the illusion of smaller spaces. Each little nook was supplied with a standard-issue cot, a blanket enhanced with warming talismans and a pillow similarly made to be cooling, a slate at the end of the bed for doctors’ instructions, and little else. This room specialized neither in a particular type of injury nor a particular type of cure, and neither did it make any differentiation between injuries unique to cultivators or more commonplace sorts that anyone could suffer.

It had a singular focus, which was to say, it catered exclusively to people who’d caused their own malady through stupidity.

To be more specific, it was reserved for people who’d hurt themselves through excessive over-exertion, which was commonly regarded as an offshoot of idiocy. Strained muscles, overworked meridians, twisted ankles, emptied dantians…even those scholars who developed headaches from reading too much in poor light, it didn’t matter; they all ended up here. A doctor would look them over, snort in disdain (a requisite and much-enjoyed part of the treatment), and order them to stay, rest, and recuperate, which usually translated to being confined to rest for a given length of time, typically marked out in chalk on the slate that hung over their cot. The room was patrolled by junior disciples still learning the way of medicine, most of them at the stage where they had more enthusiasm than skill, and they were all licensed to meet any attempts to escape prematurely with paralyzing needles, jabbed in as hard as their black little hearts desired.

Wen Ruohan remembered the place fondly.

He’d once been a very frequent visitor, in fact, back when he’d been constantly experimenting – he couldn’t quite now remember when he’d stopped, or why, but it had always been enjoyable. After he’d become sect leader, the senior doctors had used his visits as a means of teasing their juniors. They would archly insist that there was no choice but to follow the iron-clad traditions of the room, without exception, even if the patient was their terrifying sect leader, and eventually one unlucky or suicidally brave junior would be tasked with placing and enforcing the chalk marker beside his bed. Not that Wen Ruohan ever listened, of course, since naturally very few of them really dared to try to jab him (and he just shrugged off the few that did). As fun as tormenting the junior generation was, he simply had too much to do…

Ugh, speaking of which, he was probably falling behind even now. Wen Ruohan squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. He didn’t even remember what he’d been experimenting with to cause him to end up here, but it didn’t really matter. He couldn’t linger. He was the sect leader, there was always something to do.

He mentally reached for the running list of tasks he invariably kept in the back of his head – and then frowned, coming up empty. He couldn’t think of what he had planned to do today. Had his secretaries failed to bring him his schedule the night before? Had he injured himself sufficiently badly that he’d simply forgotten it all, somehow?

What had he been doing last that had led him to come here, anyway…?

Wen Ruohan’s eyes abruptly flew open: Xixiang. The mountain. Lan Qiren!

He sat up in the bed at once, ignoring the sudden rush of vertigo with an effort of will. He remembered Cangse Sanren standing beside him, telling him that he’d blown out all his spiritual energy, but also that she was having people search for Lan Qiren, who had last been seen going to see his brother – had they been found? What state was he in?

Wen Ruohan was in his favorite sickroom, which meant he was in the Nightless City. Hadn’t he last been in Xixiang? How had he even gotten here?

How long had he been unconscious?!

The chalk marker in the room was unhelpfully blank, and the room itself was oddly empty, so there was no one to ask. Overusing one’s qi didn’t usually result in unconsciousness that lasted longer than a few days at most, but Wen Ruohan had always been extraordinary, so he didn’t dare make any assumptions. He got up out of bed – then staggered, unhelpfully, but righted himself with an effort and a hand on the wall – and made his way to the main door of the sickroom, pushing it open to break the binding of the sound-proofing spell so that he could try to find Lan Qiren by listening for the sound of his voice, however futile –

Oh.

There he was.

“How can that possibly be your first solution to the problem?!” Lan Qiren was saying…no, that wasn’t quite right. He was bellowing, in fact, and from somewhere not far away; Wen Ruohan thought he might have been able to hear it even without sharpening his hearing to try to find him. Lan Qiren’s voice rang loud and clear, immediately identifiable, as welcome as the sound of a rooster crowing in the dawn after a night-hunt gone wrong.

He sounded fine.

He might not be fine – as if being “fine” were possible, given that Lan Qiren had successively suffered the Fire Palace, the shock of realizing what his brother was doing, and then his brother himself – but he sounded fine, or at least uninjured, unharmed, alive…

Wen Ruohan arranged his clothing and ignored how sore he somehow still was in favor of following the sound of yelling.

“I cannot believe that any reasonable person would think that to be an appropriate proposal. It doesn’t even fix the actual underlying issue. It barely even postpones it! I cannot believe…no. No, no, no. Simply no. Denied.”

A fainter murmur, some unimportant person that Wen Ruohan didn’t care about saying something in response.

“This is me trying to keep an open mind!”

The noise turned out to be coming from the Wen sect’s receiving hall, where Wen Ruohan usually sat in the main seat and received petitioners, including his subordinates, or else visitors. It was used exclusively for sect business. It seemed to be full, which puzzled Wen Ruohan briefly: what sect business could there possibly be happening right now, with him not there…?

He let himself in through the back, managing to avoid notice only by virtue of the fact that everyone inside the room was looking at Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan was looking, too. Lan Qiren – one side of his face was badly bruised, with a black eye that definitely hadn’t been there before, and a bandage was tied high on one of his arms, binding both upper arm and shoulder. As injuries went, it wasn’t too bad, and the colors on his face suggested that he was already well along the path of healing, that extremely pure golden core of his already ameliorating the worst of it. It certainly didn’t seem to be slowing him down in any way.

On the contrary, Lan Qiren seemed to be in particularly fine form today, with an especially fierce scowl and face red enough that he looked on the verge of trying to breathe fire. Oddly enough, he was seated on the main seat, where Wen Ruohan usually sat, glaring down at the usual run of petitioners and high-ranking Wen sect subordinates as if he wanted to order them all away – wait.

Wait.

Was Lan Qiren attempting to deal with sect business? With Wen sect business? Was that what was going on now?

It was.

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden surge of tremendous fondness fill his chest, making him feel warm. He could see Cangse Sanren perched on the floor next to the main seat with a gigantic shit-eating grin on her face, looking for all the world like a vulture watching its next meal struggling to its death right in front of its eyes for its amusement, dinner and a show combined. That explained an awful lot: Wen Ruohan distinctly remembered having mentioned to her, in a fit of bitter pique, that in the event of his untimely death, Lan Qiren’s status entitled him to the right to rule the Wen sect as his widow.

Cangse Sanren was the sort of person to find the idea sufficiently funny that she’d encourage Lan Qiren to do it while Wen Ruohan was merely incapacitated, and Lan Qiren sufficiently duty-abiding that he’d assume he had no choice but to agree, even if he didn’t think himself fit for the role. And thus, presumably, they had ended up here.

Wen Ruohan couldn’t blame Cangse Sanren one bit, though. This was hilarious.

Poor Lan Qiren. Ten years of leading the virtuous (or, well, mostly virtuous) Lan sect had clearly not prepared him in the slightest for what he was dealing with in the Nightless City.

Not that he was doing badly.

In fact, he’d even apparently somehow managed to deal with Wen Ruohan’s wives, which in the normal run of things Wen Ruohan would have assumed to be his biggest problems. However, instead of jockeying for position or fighting Lan Qiren for the right to lead, they were contentedly in their usual positions for the rare times they attended to matters of sect management.

Practically, this meant that Lu Qipei was putting on a show of pretending to supervise but mostly just displaying herself to best effect to win the admiration or envy of the female disciples in the audience, wearing something that was no doubt going to be the peak of fashion in another month or two once everyone copied her look, while Shen Mingbi…well, Shen Mingbi was currently preoccupied smiling at a man wearing the insignia of a Fire Palace guard and a face that for whatever reason vaguely reminded Wen Ruohan of Lan Xichen, while he in turn ignored the ongoing proceedings in favor of smiling back.

Ugh. Not another one! How had Wen Ruohan managed to marry women with such poor taste?

At least Lan Qiren didn’t have that problem.

“Go back and think once more on the issue and how to solve it, then bring me a proposal that does not include threats, blackmail or gross negligence of your duty as a cultivator and, for that matter, as a human being,” Lan Qiren said crossly to one of Wen Ruohan’s lieutenants, who looked abashed. He was presumably the one who’d presented the idea that had so raised Lan Qiren’s ire. “In deference to the customs of your sect, I am not excluding the options of using bribery, petty theft, and crimes at around that level – ”

Wen Ruohan choked down another laugh.

This was amazing. He’d have to find a way to reward Cangse Sanren for having thought of it.

“ – but you have to at least start with something remotely palatable. To human beings. Yes, even human beings of the Qishan Wen sect. Am I understood?”

He was.

“Good. Dismissed. Who’s next?”

There was then a brief silence, during which Wen Ruohan’s very brave Wen sect disciples looked at each other with expressions suggesting that they’d rather volunteer for the Fire Palace than volunteer to become the target of Lan Qiren’s attention and Wen Ruohan himself continued to try his absolute best not to laugh audibly. This was far too funny to interrupt.

Eventually, someone cleared their throat and stepped forward – it was Wen Yingjiu, Wen Ruohan’s hapless nominal head disciple. Presumably he’d been pushed forward as a sacrificial lamb by his peers.

“A gift has arrived for Sect Leader Wen from Lanling Jin.”

Oddly enough, that made Lan Qiren snort in what sounded like audible disdain.

“I see,” he said, with what sounded almost like a sneer. “I take it that Sect Leader Jin has received my letter indicating my displeasure regarding his sect’s participation in framing our Wen sect and that he is now trying to go above my head. Is that it?”

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan felt a delightful little shiver of pleasure to hear Lan Qiren call it that. That was as it ought to be, of course – they were married, and Lan Qiren’s marriage vows meant that he rightfully ought to treat his new sect as if it were his own – and of course Lan Qiren was never improper in public, not even when Wen Ruohan occasionally wanted him to be.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that it meant that Lan Qiren had forgiven Wen Ruohan, or that he was willing to stay voluntarily, or really anything at all. It didn’t signify anything other than the fact that Lan Qiren had good manners and an overactive sense of duty and the sense to preserve face. And yet – and still –

Our Wen sect.

Wen Ruohan liked that.

“I cannot say, Senior Lan. But it is a princely gift: a rare saber from the northwest region,” Wen Yingjiu said, his tone appropriately respectful. Presumably he’d decided to err against calling Lan Qiren “Madam Wen”, which was probably the right move, even if the alternative would have been much funnier. Wen Yingjiu had always had a decent sense of self-preservation, one that outweighed even ambition. “The messenger who delivered it insisted that the Sect Leader would enjoy having it in his possession. The saber is said to be of surpassingly fine quality, beyond anything that can be made in our present cultivation world.”

“Is it really?” Wen Ruohan said, unable to keep from speaking up. He’d always enjoyed receiving high-quality gifts, even when they were obviously meant to be bribes – all good things ought to belong to him, after all, and he wasn’t too picky about how he got them. So what if it was a bribe? Even if he accepted it, nothing was stopping him from betraying the person who’d sent it later on. And since both he and the person trying to bribe him knew that, one could scarcely even call it unethical. “I’m not sure what the Nie sect would have to say about that. How does it compare to theirs?”

The sound of his voice was like dropping a rock into a still pond, the effects of it rippling outwards in waves: everyone turned at once to look at him once they heard it, rows of heads all moving one after the other. Even Lan Qiren, seated up at the main seat, twisted himself to look in Wen Ruohan’s direction, and as he did some strange emotion flickered over his face, only visible for a moment. Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite distinguish what it meant.

“I cannot say, Sect Leader,” Wen Yingjiu said, saluting him at once. He seemed relieved to see him, which said something either about his loyalty or, more likely, Lan Qiren’s ferocity. “The messenger from Lanling Jin sang its praises, and from my humble appraisal, I would agree that it seems to be exceedingly well-made.”

Wen Yingjiu was head disciple of the Wen sect and possessed perfect recall, which meant that he had a pretty good sense of judgment as to what made a good weapon. That meant the saber probably really was exceptional – one of those wonders that were sufficiently impressive that even the ridiculously wealthy Lanling Jin thought them worth keeping in their treasure room. It had probably pained Jin Guangshan immensely to part with it.

“How nice,” Wen Ruohan said, smirk curving his lips as he thought about Jin Guangshan squirming in discomfort but ultimately giving in to reality, knowing that he needed to appease Wen Ruohan’s anger. “Perhaps we should invite Lao Nie over to see which one is the better.”

He was only speaking lightly, thoughtlessly saying what he would have normally said as if nothing had changed, but he had reason to regret it the second it came out of his mouth: the room went completely silent, and Lan Qiren’s face abruptly froze over into complete neutrality.

Wen Ruohan wanted to smack himself. Was he some novice at politics, not to realize that he’d inadvertently implied that he might be willing to accept Jin Guangshan’s bribe and override the expression of disapproval that Lan Qiren had sent out in their sect’s name, in his name? Accepting the gift suggested that he would be willing to cast aside Lan Qiren’s hard work on his behalf, to put someone else’s word over his yet again – a subtle but effective way to put Lan Qiren back in his place, as Jin Guangshan had laughed to him during the discussion conference.

It was certainly not a good way to start making things up with Lan Qiren.

Wen Ruohan immediately wanted to take back his words, but he didn’t know how. Showing weakness in front of so many of his subordinates was impossible, especially when he genuinely felt weak – humor aside, his body felt immensely sore and somehow also too light, as if the usual heavy cloak of power he usually carried with him everywhere was gone. Anyway, it would be inappropriate to admit that he was wrong, because that would be admitting too much. He hadn’t actually said anything out of place or inaccurate, merely a little tone-deaf.

And yet, having Lan Qiren think that Wen Ruohan valued Jin Guangshan over him…

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Cangse Sanren said helpfully, if by helpfully one meant it in the sense of throwing fuel onto an already blazing fire. “I mean, really, Sect Leader Wen! You just fought a mountain. Is it really still necessary for you to argue with Sect Leader Nie about who’s got the bigger dick?”

The tension in the room shattered.

Lan Qiren slumped in the main seat with a groan, putting his hands over his face, while the petitioners all burst out in choked-off guffaws and sniggers, some notably less choked-off than others.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“Well,” he drawled. “Actually – ”

“No,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “Absolutely not. This conversation is not going there.”

Wen Ruohan shrugged, putting aside the uncalled-for burst of relief he was currently feeling. It was only natural that he would find a way to salvage the situation, even if it was with assistance.

“Very well, have it your way,” he said, purposefully casual, as if his comment earlier had merely been meant as a joke. “I suppose Cangse Sanren has a point. There’s no point in comparing anyone to me, now, is there? Yingjiu, under the circumstances I think you’d better send the saber back. We wouldn’t want Jin Guangshan to get the wrong idea.”

“Yes, Sect Leader! At once!”

Lan Qiren looked begrudgingly appeased, and the rest of the room looked profoundly impressed. There, that ought to do it: he’d erased the implication of his earlier statement, and publicly reaffirmed his support for Lan Qiren’s disapproval of Lanling Jin. Now that would make Jin Guangshan really squirm…as was only right. What had the man been thinking, joining forces with Qingheng-jun to scheme against Wen Ruohan and his sect like that?

If it had been Wen Ruohan up in that seat right now, he wouldn’t have limited himself to a mere letter of disapproval. At a minimum he would have demanded a whole cartful of treasures, or maybe even some land, a subordinate sect or two sacrificed to his ambitions…Jin Guangshan ought to count himself lucky!

“Should you be here?” Lan Qiren abruptly asked, frowning at Wen Ruohan. “I thought the doctor said that he intended for you to rest for a while longer? Someone said something about a chalk marker…?”

Wen Ruohan smirked at the idea that someone had had to explain the rules of the “you fucked up” room to Lan Qiren, hopefully in terms as colorful as the way he’d always heard it – though actually, now that he thought about it, he did rather feel as though he might want to go back to bed relatively soon. What was wrong with him? He’d never been this weak after exerting himself.

Though he supposed it had been rather a long time since he’d done himself in this badly…

“Enjoying your new work so much that you’ve decided to get rid of me?” he drawled.

Lan Qiren didn’t rise to the bait. “If that were my intention, I would tell you in advance.”

He probably would, the ridiculous man. Wen Ruohan could imagine it now: Lan Qiren all puffed up like a albino bird of paradise, solemnly stating that he regretted to inform him that he had decided he had no choice but to kill him and that he would appreciate it if Wen Ruohan would be so kind as to make himself ready for the attempt.

It was an oddly comforting thought.

“However, assuming you have just violated the doctors’ directives, I suggest you return to your sickbed, or at a minimum to your room, to continue resting,” Lan Qiren continued, looking annoyed. Or possibly concerned? It was hard to tell with him, sometimes – and for whatever reason, Wen Ruohan had the sudden feeling that Lan Qiren was being deliberately dismissive of him, almost performatively so. “Unless you want to take over managing sect business…?”

Wen Ruohan looked at his subordinates, who looked at him hopefully.

“No, I think I’m enjoying this too much,” he said thoughtfully, and smirked when their faces all fell.

“Well done, Sect Leader Wen!” Cangse Sanren cackled. “Milk that invalid status for all that it’s worth! At least one more day, please. You see, you just missed Qiren-gege threatening everyone to start the morning session at yin shi – ”

“At chen shi, not yin shi! A shichen after dawn, not before!”

“Was that it? I couldn’t tell from the way everyone looked like you’d threatened to murder their first-born sons. Remember, it’s only called the Nightless City because they’re all insomniacs!”

“Oh?” Wen Ruohan said, arching his eyebrows and allowing his tone to become a little dangerous, just for fun. “Is that what someone has told you…?”

The entire room full of petitioners took a step back away from him.

Lan Qiren’s eye twitched.

He turned to Cangse Sanren and said: “Take him away before I throw something at his head.”

And then, to Wen Ruohan: “Take her away before I strangle her.”

“Shall we?” Wen Ruohan asked, offering her his arm. She jumped up and trotted over to take it.

“We shall,” she said with a grin. “You promised me a tour.”

Wen Ruohan was fairly sure he had done no such thing. And, indeed, the moment they had left the main room behind by some distance, Cangse Sanren said, quite casually, “The tour can wait. I want to yell at you. Where’s a good place for that?”

Wen Ruohan opted to lead them both back to his bedroom, since it would be private and he was certain that Lan Qiren, unlike his wives, would think nothing of him taking a woman there to talk. Also because he was feeling increasingly dizzy, and he preferred to be weak somewhere he had protected with many, many layers of protective arrays. Technically the sickrooms were similarly protected, but he had no interest in returning there – someone would undoubtedly come to find him there now that he was awake, and he wasn’t in the mood to listen to complaints.

“How long was I out?” he asked as they walked.

“It’s been a few days,” she said promptly. “Not too long, really quite usual. We had the senior doctor that Qiren said looked least likely to gossip examine you – Wen Dairong, I think his name was – ”

That was fine. Wen Dairong usually preferred research to patients, but he’d kept his hand in with doing the rounds in the sickrooms enough that his skills hadn’t deteriorated, and he was notoriously close-mouthed. Best of all, he was one of Wen Ruohan’s more trustworthy cousins, having always very obviously set supporting his beloved research as the price of his loyalty, and no one could meet that price better than Wen Ruohan.

He wondered if Lan Qiren had been worried when he found out that Wen Ruohan was unconscious. He was fairly sure that Cangse Sanren wouldn’t tell him even if he had.

“Anyway, he confirmed that there’s nothing seriously the matter with you – well, nothing the matter with your health – other than qi exhaustion. Well, other than extremely severe qi exhaustion.” She glanced at him sidelong and waited until they were in his room, with its privacy arrays activated, before she bluntly added, “You completely emptied not only your active supply of spiritual energy but also your reserves, and you dipped pretty heavily into your life force, too. Nothing that will cause long-term damage, but I’m telling you, you were dry. No matter how ridiculously quickly you accumulate more through cultivating – I’ve seen the charts, by the way, so well done there – there’s simply no way you’re getting back to normal until at least a few months have passed, if not more. Welcome to the world of us mere mortals.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

Unfortunately, after he sat at his desk and took a moment to examine himself, he was forced to conclude that Wen Dairong was right. He didn’t just feel weak, he was weak – not quite down to the level of a common person, but certainly around the level of a common (if still very talented) cultivator. He had woken up too quickly and without guidance, and hadn’t realized the level of his weakness when he’d headed out. No wonder Lan Qiren had made such an effort to get him out of the receiving hall, with Cangse Sanren playing along to make it seem as though neither of them had any concerns for Wen Ruohan’s health or strength.

The information would get out eventually, of course. But their apparent dismissiveness would deceive people for just long enough – long enough to give Wen Ruohan a little more time to decide how to best control the narrative, to ensure that the rest of the cultivation world remembered that while he was weakened, he would only be weakened for a short while, and that in the interval he still had his army and nearly half of the cultivation world at his beck and call.

And also to remind them that when he returned to normal, he would be even more powerful – and extremely vengeful against anyone who dared to try anything in the interim.

“What happened with Qingheng-jun?” he asked Cangse Sanren, who had seemingly forgotten her plan to yell at him in favor of poking around the bedroom with an expression of profound interest. At the moment she was perusing one of Lan Qiren’s annotated copies of the Lan sect rules, which had been carelessly left on the bedside table after Wen Ruohan had grabbed it for a (purposefully rather ostentatious) consult during one of their more contentious bits of bed-play.

That had been a good day. Lan Qiren had been so incredibly annoyed to have lost the argument, and Wen Ruohan had enjoyed every moment of it – as well as every moment of Lan Qiren taking it back out on him later on.

“Qingheng-jun? He’s missing,” Cangse Sanren said, turning back to look at him. “Possibly after having some sort of nervous breakdown? It wasn’t entirely clear. Lan Qiren only saw him leave, and since then he hasn’t been seen anywhere, not even by his own sect, which is starting to be more than a little nervous about it…to make what is undoubtedly a long story short, I’d say our Qiren won that encounter hands down.”

“He hurt him. Lan Qiren’s face – ”

“There’s nothing we can do about that right now, so stop thinking about it. Between you and Qingheng-jun, which one of you just fought a mountain again…?”

Wen Ruohan rolled his eyes.

“The whole world saw you do that, you know. It’s going to have some interesting consequences.”

“Let it,” Wen Ruohan said dismissively. “How is Lan Qiren doing?”

Cangse Sanren gave him a look.

“Oh, yes, please, let’s talk about that,” she said acidly. “The Fire Palace? Really?”

“I concede that I erred,” Wen Ruohan said stiffly, not appreciating her insolence. How dare she think she had any right to scold him? “Also, this is a discussion I will be having with Lan Qiren, not you.”

She arched her eyebrows. “You don’t want advice on how to make up with him?”

On second thought, Wen Ruohan was a practical man from a practical sect; he knew how to be flexible when necessary. With someone as complicated and rigid as Lan Qiren…he could probably use all the help he could get.

He gestured for her to sit.

Cangse Sanren perched herself on his chair, once again resembling nothing more than an over-large bird, probably of a corvid or a vulture. She tapped her distinctive fingernails on his desk, drawing his attention.

“All right,” she said. “You’ve already gotten to the point of admitting that you fucked up, that’s better than I expected. It’s still not going to help you. You really fucked up.”

Wen Ruohan was aware.

“So what’s your plan? You have to apologize.”

Wen Ruohan grimaced.

“Apologize and be punished,” she clarified mercilessly. “The Lan are big on exacting justice.”

Wen Ruohan was aware. Unfortunately, he still wasn’t sure what type of punishment he could offer up that would actually mean anything to Lan Qiren.

“…Lan Xichen suggested I write an essay,” he finally said, all too aware of how pathetic the suggestion sounded. “Laying out what I did wrong and explaining that I wouldn’t do it again.”

“That’s not actually that bad of an idea. He’d probably find it charming,” Cangse Sanren said, to Wen Ruohan’s surprise, but then almost immediately afterwards she made a face. “Well, assuming you were actually willing to do it properly. What’s your proposal for the ‘never doing it again�� bit?”

That had also been the part that had tripped up Wen Ruohan. He was always going to be sect leader and Lan Qiren was always going to be just the sect leader’s spouse – even if one accounted for the unique husband and wife dynamic they’d chosen, there was always going to be an imbalance between them.

Wen Ruohan was always going to have more power.

“Become omnipotent and therefore no longer make mistakes?” he offered, only half-joking – he knew it was unrealistic, but the thought was so very appealing. He was already so powerful, surely if he only tried a little harder, he would finally get to the level where all his problems would be solved. Right?

Cangse Sanren groaned. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say. No essay. It’ll just make it worse.”

“I’m open to alternate suggestions.”

“Nice try. He’d know if it came from me rather than you, and I’m not the one you want him to forgive.”

That was extraordinarily unhelpful.

She hummed. “You are at least aware that at least one part of the problem is that you even have a torture palace to begin with, right?”

Wen Ruohan scowled at her.

“I’m just saying, it’s a lot harder to throw people into your torture palace if you don’t have a torture palace,” Cangse Sanren said with a smirk. “Also, have you ever considered knitting? Or embroidery?”

Wen Ruohan stared at her.

“You know, because you like stabbing things…?”

“Out,” Wen Ruohan said flatly. “Now.”

“Listen, if you would just get another hobby – ”

“Out.”

After Cangse Sanren left, Wen Ruohan opened a drawer in his desk and dug around until he found a very old set of acupuncture needles that he hadn’t used in any number of years, then got up and went to the garden to find a sunny spot to meditate. It had been quite a long time since he’d needed to cultivate the old-fashioned way, but he still remembered the tricks he’d used to do it faster than his peers. Though technically speaking, jabbing yourself with acupuncture needles to help you process spiritual energy faster wasn’t so much a trick as it was an incredibly unwise medical procedure. But that was only if you didn’t know what you were doing…

(He refused to consider if this counted as part of a hobby of “stabbing things.”)

He'd only been meditating for half a shichen when a noise pulled him out of it.

Several noises.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?”

“No one’s ever here during the middle of the day, it’s fine.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

“Is this really where Shufu lives now? It’s so big!”

Wen Ruohan opened his eyes and watched bemusedly as a small troop of children marched right into his quarters, with his own little Chao-er leading the way, looking pleased as punch with himself.

For a moment, Wen Ruohan felt rage swelling in his heart, the urge to lash out growing. How dare these children invade his quarters without permission? How insolent they were! He was busy. Didn’t they realize that he had to regain his strength, and quickly? If he didn’t, who would be left to defend his home and his sect –

Well, technically there was now Lan Qiren to do that.

Hmm.

There was something appealing about that.

He took another moment to observe the children, who hadn’t yet noticed him sitting in the corner of the garden. They were sticking mostly to the inside rooms, avidly exploring the various surfaces – the Lan boys were very proudly pointing out everything that visibly belonged to Lan Qiren, no matter how inane, while the other children oohed and aahed appreciatively, and Wen Chao was bouncing around and pointing out things that were characteristic of the Wen sect to equal appreciation.

Interestingly, Wen Chao seemed more comfortable with the younger boys, most particularly the Jiang heir, who he seemed especially eager to impress. It was an interesting choice, given the availability of the seemingly more charismatic Wei boy or the more mature Lan Xichen…or even Jiang Yanli, who was following the others with a surprisingly mischievous smile.

And speaking of smiling, Wen Chao was doing a surprising amount of it, almost to the point that Wen Ruohan briefly doubted that that was his son he was looking at. As far as he was aware, Wen Chao always looked either bitter or resentful, sulking like the spoiled princeling he was whenever Wen Ruohan wasn’t around and cringing and cowering whenever he was. He’d unfortunately inherited a solid portion of his mother’s stupidity, being both gullible and easily manipulated, and those traits in combination with Wen Ruohan’s prickly pride had led him to form grudges against virtually all of his peers in the Nightless City, many of whom had undoubtedly been given ulterior motives by their parents. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, to learn to detect that early on. But unfortunately the result had been to leave him alone, making him a lonely and unpleasant child, willing to lie to get his way but not quite cunning enough to pull it off.

None of that was presently in evidence. Wen Chao looked happy.

How strange. Wen Ruohan had mostly written off his second son, figuring that children mostly resembled their mothers in childhood and their fathers in adulthood, that Wen Chao would therefore improve and acquire more of Wen Ruohan’s own traits as he got older and that there was therefore no point in bothering with him until then. But looking at him now – well, either Wen Chao had very abruptly matured overnight, which seemed highly unlikely, or else the presence of a group of his peers that were not only willing to spend time with him but actively intended to incorporate him into their group for reasons other than their parents’ selfish schemes was doing wonders for his personality.

Wen Chao was practically shining with delight, and with pride. For once, the habitual arrogance of the Wen sect sat upon him naturally rather than hanging off of him like an ill-fitting coat.

Much more like Wen Ruohan than his mother. Good, good. About time!

(Really, if this was the result of Lan Qiren’s casual instruction to his nephews to befriend his son, who by that point he’d barely even met, Wen Ruohan couldn’t wait to see how much active instruction by the man would benefit his son further.)

No, it was better not to interrupt. He wouldn’t want to ruin Wen Chao’s big moment, after all.

“What are these swords doing on the wall?” Wei Ying asked. “They seem pretty nice.”

“They’re treasure swords!” Wen Chao chirped. “Each one of them has a name and a history, a reputation – they’re all famous, every one of them.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to have swords on your wall, though?” Jiang Cheng sounded doubtful. “What if they fall off? Or what if someone comes in and grabs them in the middle of a fight…?”

“My father would grab them first,” Wen Chao said. “And then he’d kill them.”

Good boy.

“It would be awesome,” he added proudly.

Wen Ruohan smirked.

“But why so many?” Wei Ying wanted to know. “Don’t most people only have the one spiritual sword that they cultivate with…? Does your father have a favorite, or – ”

“Children!” Lan Qiren’s voice cracked out like a whip, making them all jump and scatter like a flock of startled pheasants. “What are you doing in here?”

“We were looking around, Shufu,” Lan Xichen said respectfully.

“We weren’t bothering anyone, Teacher Lan,” Jiang Yanli said, and Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying nodded furiously in agreement with her. “We didn’t disturb anything in here, either.”

“We just wanted to see where Shufu lived,” Lan Wangji explained.

“I told them you lived with my father,” Wen Chao put in, very proud. “They didn’t believe me at first, but now they do.”

From where Wen Ruohan was sitting, and because he knew to look, he could tell that Lan Qiren’s ears had gone pink. It was perhaps a little strange for a married couple with separate courtyards available to choose to share one instead – verging on shameless, really, since what it usually meant was that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Hopefully none of the children had picked up on that. Lan Qiren might die of embarrassment.

Also, if he didn’t stop blushing, Wen Ruohan was going to start laughing.

“You still should not have entered these rooms without permission,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “These are Wen Ruohan’s private living quarters. What if he objected to your intrusion?”

“That’s why we came now,” Wei Ying explained. “So he wouldn’t be bothered! He can’t be bothered if he’s not here!”

The children all nodded in agreement.

Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at them with a frown. “What do you mean ‘he’s not here’? He’s right over there, in the garden.”

“He’s what?!” Wen Chao shrieked.

Wen Ruohan smiled with teeth when the children finally looked over at him.

The next ke or so was spent in childish pandemonium – and Wen Ruohan trying and failing not to laugh – until Lan Qiren got tired of it all and ordered them all (excluding Wen Ruohan) to leave.

“And each of you will copy lines for half a shichen this evening,” he added sternly. “Xichen, you will be in charge of selecting which lines, but I expect you to pick something appropriate regarding respecting one’s elders and the privacy of others. Understood?”

“Yes, Shufu! Understood, Shufu!”

“Jiang Yanli, as the eldest, I expect you to both supervise and lead by example.”

“Yes, Teacher Lan. Understood, Teacher Lan.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Wen Ruohan watched them go with amusement. “You speak to the children in the same tone you use for my lieutenants,” he remarked once the children were gone. “Or should that be the other way around…?”

Lan Qiren glanced at him only briefly, then turned away. “Get those needles out of your wrists. Words will not be able to encompass my displeasure if you manage to further hurt yourself in an effort to recover your power faster.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Wen Ruohan said, though he did remove the needles and get up to come back into the room. Why wasn’t Lan Qiren looking at him? Was this the result of the Fire Palace, now that Lan Qiren had had some time to think about it…? “Why are you here?”

Lan Qiren stiffened. “I live here. Am I unwelcome?”

Wen Ruohan hated the ungainly awkwardness that seemed to have suddenly sprung up between them. It had never existed before, not even right after they had first married – Lan Qiren had been earnest, then, and sincere, even though he’d also been recently traumatized. There hadn’t been any of this…prickliness.

This – wariness.

Wen Ruohan hated it, but he knew he had only himself to blame.

“Not at all,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately light, smooth. “I only meant that I would have expected you to continue to receive petitioners until later in the afternoon. They’re usually especially needy immediately after some major event.”

“I dismissed them early. I wanted to find you to discuss an important matter – we’ve received an invitation to go to the Lotus Pier.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. That was unexpected. “What reason does the Jiang sect have to invite us?”

“Not just us,” Lan Qiren explained. “The entire cultivation world. They are holding a celebration…ah, no, let me explain from the beginning. It is about what happened in Xixiang.”

“…they’re throwing a party over it?”

Lan Qiren had the world’s most tired and long-suffering expression. “The cultivation world has unanimously decided that they did not, in fact, nearly go to war, but rather that everyone had merely gathered together to tackle the ghosts of Xixiang.”

Wen Ruohan felt a sudden headache. “Are you joking?”

“I am not. Everyone worked quite collaboratively against the spirits that emerged from the mountain. It is being hailed as an example of the cultivation world overcoming obstacles to unite against evil.”

“That is the most transparent face-saving lie I have ever heard in my life,” Wen Ruohan marveled. “My very, very long life.”

That got a faint smile out of Lan Qiren.

It faded quickly, though.

“Transparent or not, everyone has an interest in maintaining it,” he said briskly, shifting back to impassively discussing politics. “No one had time to question the ghosts, so the secret of the mine remains intact, and the excuse of a night hunt in the area happens to match perfectly with the lie that drew your army there – a large-scale haunting, which they were invited to help eradicate. The aggressive moves by Gusu Lan and Lanling Jin can then be explained away as mere over-enthusiasm and the result of unfortunate misunderstandings, particularly as both sect leaders retreated or left relatively early in the proceedings – ”

Wen Ruohan was deeply unsurprised to hear that Jin Guangshan had gotten spooked by seeing a display of what real power was capable of and ran away, leaving his forces to face the music without him. He’d probably spent the time comforting himself with his current mistresses and putting together a plan regarding who he was going to blame for having gotten involved in the first place. Maybe he’d even re-use Wang Liu, who had undoubtedly outlived his usefulness. Certainly that pathetic display earlier suggested that Jin Guangshan was absolutely desperate to get back into Wen Ruohan’s good graces…

“I have even heard,” and now Lan Qiren’s face was set in deeply disapproving stone, “that some people appear to be trying to claim that the misunderstanding was originally caused by an illusion array, possibly a ghost wall of some unprecedented type – ”

Wen Ruohan snorted in disgust. That sounded like the Jin sect all right. “Face-saving all around, then.”

“Yes, exactly.” Lan Qiren sighed. “The Jiang sect, for its part, wants no one to pay attention to the fact that a war was nearly started with an independent sect so close to their border, particularly since it quite evidently happened without their knowledge. Moreover, they are also using this party as an opportunity to make up for the discussion conference that was canceled…”

Wen Ruohan snorted a second time, this time in amusement. That wasn’t going to happen.

Lan Qiren hummed in agreement. “Unfortunately, this situation presents us with two issues. The first is that we do not know where my brother has gone or what he might do. Putting aside his future actions in their own right, he is still capable of sharing the details of what happened in the mine, which would by itself be devastating – he is the last remaining witness to the actual events of the mine, excluding the Gusu Lan sect elders involved.”

“I assume from that statement that you’ve confirmed that the merchant house that committed most of the massacre was put to the sword in turn?”

Lan Qiren scowled. “None of your record keepers were able to find any trace of them after that time, so I would assume so. Likely in the name of ‘justice,’ as we are dealing with hypocrites.”

Lan Qiren was still furious at his sect elders, it seemed. Quite reasonable.

At least he was displaying some emotion. Wen Ruohan was growing increasingly displeased with the neutral expression Lan Qiren sometimes put on, finding it far more hateful than his unvarnished rage. Now that he had seen Lan Qiren use that deadened face in public meetings with his political enemies, he no longer wanted to see it when they were alone.

“What’s the second problem?” he asked.

Lan Qiren glanced at him again – another fleeting look, there and then gone. “You have been invited as the guest of honor, on account of your heroism in defending the common people of Xixiang. It would be impolitic to refuse.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to feel prickly. “Why should we refuse? Are you suggesting that I would be unable to attend? You think I am too weak, perhaps? Or merely untrustworthy…?”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Qiren snapped. “I had only thought that you might not wish to appear in public until you had had more of a chance to recover.”

Wen Ruohan sneered. “Yes, you’re just being considerate, of course. How could I doubt it? When you won’t even look at me – ”

Lan Qiren’s jaw tightened, and Wen Ruohan cut himself off. What was he doing? This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all.

He’d wanted…

“Cangse Sanren said that I shouldn’t write you an essay,” he blurted out.

That got a reaction, at least: Lan Qiren turned to stare at him. “An essay?”

“I asked your nephews how I could make you stop being angry at me after I – after a misstep,” Wen Ruohan explained. “Lan Xichen explained that if it was him, he would write an essay explaining what he had done wrong and expressing that he wouldn’t do it again, as well as proposing appropriate discipline to be imposed. But I could not think of what discipline would be appropriate, and Cangse Sanren said that offering to become omnipotent as a solution was likely to backfire, so – ”

He stopped again, but this time it was because Lan Qiren was laughing.

At first it was only a little, an incredulous little chuckle, but then it got stronger and stronger until Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with the force of his laughter.

“Is this,” he wheezed, “your idea of an apology?”

“It’s not exactly an area in which I have a great deal of experience,” Wen Ruohan said, watching Lan Qiren’s face, all crinkled-up with good humor, and wanting desperately to kiss him. “On account of the fact that I am so rarely wrong.”

That just made Lan Qiren laugh harder.

Eventually he needed to sit down, which he did on the bed – quite promising, really. Wen Ruohan went and sat next to him.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have I beaten out Lao Nie?”

“Beaten…? Oh, you mean in being the most obnoxious man in the world?” Lan Qiren wiped his eyes. “Do not tell me you have gotten competitive over that. It is hardly a title anyone would want.”

“Perhaps I simply wish to be first in your thoughts.”

“Me and the rest of the world,” Lan Qiren said dryly. “I am well aware of your narcissism.”

Wen Ruohan had meant his statement to be romantic, but he had to concede that Lan Qiren had a good point. Also, he’d forgotten that there was no point in romantic subtleties with Lan Qiren; the man was too blunt and literal for that.

He’d have to be equally blunt in turn.

“Your sect believes in punishment that ends and absolves the error,” he said, because he still couldn’t bring himself to force the words I was wrong and I regret what I’ve done through his lips. “Is there something that would be appropriate here? I am willing.”

Lan Qiren’s humor slowly faded away, and he sighed.

“I do not think that it would be appropriate for me to suggest a punishment in this circumstance,” he said. “The purpose of punishment is twofold: deterrence and remediation. Deterrence applies both to the community at large, to show them what is wrong and what is right, and to the individual, so that they never again do what they know to be wrong. Remediation is a matter of balancing the scales of justice, repairing the harm committed so that the victim is appeased and peace restored. While punishment can be imposed and often is – discipline is generic, even-handed, applicable to all, a way to teach and to remind those who err of the importance of the rules that underwrite the basis of our community – it is a little different when punishment is being used as a means of penance. In those cases, voluntary accedence is the most effective.”

Wen Ruohan frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you will need to determine for yourself what the appropriate punishment will be. As the victim, I can absolve you of the harm you caused, if I wish, but that is only half of what you must do: there is still the question of deterrence. Only you can determine what you must do now to show your sincerity – what sacrifice you will make that would serve as both payment for the past and a promise to the future.”

Wen Ruohan scowled.

“There are any number of punishments that you can choose from. There are punishments of pain, where you show your sincerity through suffering the pain that you caused others or to use the pain to burn in the lesson to be learned; there are punishments of time, where you devote yourself to writing lines or essays or some other form of contemplation that encourages you to truly think about what you have done wrong. There are even punishments which consist merely of loss – loss of advantage, loss of privileges, or even loss of freedom…though I will say that I would greatly disapprove if you chose seclusion as a punishment.”

“Absolutely not,” Wen Ruohan assured him. “As a general rule, I try not to lock myself alone with my paranoia. It only makes it worse.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes curved in another smile. A lingering one, this time.

“Explain to me what this means,” Wen Ruohan said. “You won’t impose a punishment until I select one that is appropriate? Does that mean we are at odds until then?”

“No, merely that your punishment is not fully complete until you yourself determine that you have completed it. For the half that involves seeking to remedy the harm…” He paused briefly, then shook his head. “There is no need. I am willing to accept your apology and forgive you.”

Wen Ruohan stared.

“You were tricked,” Lan Qiren pointed out. “Anyone can be tricked. I understood at once what must have happened.”

“You were tortured,” Wen Ruohan said. “On my order. You shouldn’t forgive me just like that!”

“And that is why punishment is required,” Lan Qiren said patiently. “You cannot force me to forgive you, but you also cannot force me not to. It is wholly up to me whether I wish to bear a grudge, and I do not. But only punishment will adequately serve to make you believe it.”

That was true in one respect: Wen Ruohan didn’t believe it.

Or, rather, he supposed he did believe it, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want Lan Qiren to forgive him because the Lan sect rules said Do not bear grudges. He wanted something else. Something better.

He wanted Lan Qiren to trust him again. He wanted Lan Qiren to love him.

And that meant, he supposed, that that was what the punishment was really for: to show Lan Qiren that Wen Ruohan meant what he said. That Wen Ruohan was serious, that hereally was sorry, that he really wouldn’t do it again.

Only then would Lan Qiren be able to really forgive him in his heart, rather than merely forgiving him in his head.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, and for the first time really meant it, rather than a half-hearted attempt to patch over the consequences of his actions. “Give me some time, and I’ll come up with a suitable punishment. One that even you won’t be able to say is inappropriate.”

“Do not underestimate yourself,” Lan Qiren said, sounding amused. “You excel above all others.”

Wen Ruohan should not have felt complimented by what was obviously an insult. He was, though. Just a bit.

“Though, on that note, I feel that we should discuss what you did with the mountain.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. “I suppose, like Cangse Sanren, you wish to scold me for overexerting my strength and making a spectacle of myself?”

“On the contrary. I wish to praise you. You did a very good thing, saving the common people, and you did it at great cost to yourself.” Lan Qiren shifted a little, and Wen Ruohan noted that his ears had gone red once more. “Perhaps it is arrogance on my part, but I flatter myself to think that I played some role in your decision to do what you did – ”

“It’s not arrogance when it’s true,” Wen Ruohan said. “You’re right. I did it for you. Or – not for you. Because you would have wanted me to.”

Lan Qiren looked at him, and there was that strange emotion on his face again, the strangest mix of pain and fondness.

“That pleases me more than I can say,” he said, and Wen Ruohan smirked proudly. “Well, let it not be said that the rules are not fair. Just as they demand punishment for wrongdoing, so too do they demand that rewards be given for exceptional behavior.”

Reward?

Wen Ruohan brightened. A reward sounded good.

“Of course, we must account for the fact that you have been injured and rendered vulnerable,” Lan Qiren mused. “I would not want to cause you to feel any sense of threat from me, and also we must avoid causing you greater harm…I have been giving the matter some serious thought, and I think I have found a method that would work well.”

This sounded very good.

“Of course, it would require you to consent to being tied up – ”

Forget very good. This was going to be great.

#mdzs #wen ruohan #lan qiren #cangse sanren #my fic #my fics #Megafic

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how2fit · 6 months ago

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I was never the type of person who liked exercise. High-intensity workouts like boot camps, kickboxing, and running — left me feeling exhausted and sore, and I never made it past two or three sessions before throwing in the towel. Then I tried Pilates. I’d seen some of my favorite ripped celebrities raving about it, and it sounded like a perfect fit: a gentler workout that still produced results. That was seven years ago, and I still practice Pilates several times a week. Want to find out if Pilates is the right workout for you? Here’s what you need to know. [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9YddrBLxoM[/embed] Is Pilates Good for Beginners? Yes! “A lot of people think that Pilates is just for girls or dancers, but it’s really for everybody,” says Beginner Pilates Trainer Lisa Hubbard. “Your back and shoulders will be less tight, and you’re going to feel more toned in your entire body.” Pilates was literally designed to suit all skill levels — the creator, Joseph Pilates, developed his methodology while he was interned during World War I to help his fellow inmates stay healthy and strengthen their minds and bodies. (In fact, the Cadillac — an elaborate piece of Pilates equipment still used today — was inspired by a makeshift resistance machine he fashioned out of a hospital bed, straps, and springs.) Pilates can improve posture, build overall strength, and help your weight loss efforts. And while Pilates has come a long way since its humble beginnings, one thing hasn’t changed: It’s still a great workout for beginners. How Often Should I Do Pilates? Is it okay to do Pilates every day? Yes! “That’s the beauty of Pilates,” says Andrea Rogers, creator of Xtend Barre and XB Pilates. “You can do it in some way every day, whether you’re on the mat or an apparatus like the Pilates reformer.” That’s not to say you have to do Pilates every day to see results. One study found that doing an hour-long Pilates workout twice a week was enough to improve core strength and posture. 4 Great Pilates Moves for Beginners So, you’ve decided to try Pilates. Awesome! These beginner-friendly moves can help you get started. 1. Pilates Hundred [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0IQXEFyC6s[/embed] “The purpose of this move is to warm up the body and increase circulation,” Rogers says. “The Hundred coordinates breath with movement and the engagement of the abdominals.” Lie on your back and center yourself on a mat. Draw both knees into your chest and hug with your hands. Lift your head up and look toward your abdominals. Extend your arms slightly above hip level. Float your legs to a tabletop position, with your thighs perpendicular to the floor, your knees bent at a 90-degree angle, and your shins parallel to the floor. (Or, if you prefer, you can do this move with your legs extended at a 45-degree angle.) Keeping your arms straight, vigorously pump your arms up and down. (This should be a small, fast movement — your hands should only move up and down a few inches.) Keep your neck and shoulders relaxed, and focus on using your abs. As you pump, inhale for three “pumps” and exhale for three “pumps.” Repeat until you’ve done 100 pumps. 2. Ab Roll-Up [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lNW0Vw1FCTA[/embed] “The roll up stretches the spine and works the core,” Rogers says. “The goal is to maintain a c-curve throughout and articulate the spine one vertebra at a time.” Start in a seated position with your legs bent and your feet flat on the floor. Lightly grab the back of your thighs and sit up tall. Round your spine, and lean back slightly. Slowly roll all the way down, one vertebra at a time, until you’re flat on the floor Pause for a moment, then engage your core and exhale as you slowly roll back up to a straight spine. Repeat. 3. One Leg Circle [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7d8SuTTE3o8[/embed] Looking to improve shoulder and hip stability? Add this move to your Pilates routine. “This is a deep stretch and an exercise that requires strong coordination skills,” Rogers says.

Lie flat on your back with your arms extended long by your sides. Extend your right leg straight towards the ceiling with your toes pointed. (If you feel too much of a stretch, soften the knee.) Keeping your hips stable, your leg straight, and your back flat on the floor, drop your right leg towards the left side of your body. Sweep your right leg down towards your left leg, then out to the right side, then back up to the starting position, as if you’re drawing a circle in the air with your toe. Then draw your right knee into the chest and give it a stretch. Complete eight reps and then reverse. 4. Scissor Kicks [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffCXvt2vS80[/embed] Lie on your back with your arms by your sides, your knees bent, and your feet flat on the floor. Bring your knees toward your chest, and then extend your legs straight up toward the ceiling as you peel your shoulders off the floor. Keeping your core engaged and your legs straight, slowly lower your left leg to the floor as you bring your right leg toward your body, pulsing twice. Repeat on the other side, bringing your left leg toward your body as you lower your right leg to the floor. Continue alternating until you’ve completed all reps. Start with 10 to 15 reps.

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revengeofthelobotomyladies · 9 months ago

Note

In England there's a theory test app, half the test is multiple choice on road safety/rules/signs etc and half on hazard perception

It's pretty easy to get a theory tests and you have up to 2 years after passing to get your license before you have to take it so most get it done straight away

The DVLA reckon it takes an average of 45 hours of practice with an instructor (at anywhere between £30-40 an hour) and 22 hours of private practice in your own car to pass with an average 48% pass rate (so technically you can be taught by a random but it's not reccomended lol)

It's near impossible to get a test for at least 7 months in the future (bc of covid and bots) so if you manage to get an official one it'll cost £62, otherwise you need to get a cancellation which can cost upwards of £120

Then your actual test is like 40+ minutes, 20 of independent driving (either using sat nav or road signs, they say on the day) and 20 minutes of instructed driving which involves pulling up on the left & setting off safely at least 6 times and then one of the 4 main manoeuvers (reverse into a bay/drive into a bay/parallel park or pull up on the right & reverse for 2 car lengths) but they can also ask you to do an emergency stop or a hill start on top of that

also 2 "show me, tell me" questions about general car things like how to check the tyre pressure, clean the front windscreen etc

Plus they have hundreds to test routes and it's randomised so you could end up with really good conditions and a great route or shitty conditions and a shitty route which balls you up

You're allowed 0 serious faults and up to 15 minor faults but you fail if you get more than 3 of the same fault, you can fail for all sorts like not driving in a bus lane when it's open etc (a lot is ridiculous stuff that normal drivers do)

Then insurance premiums are sky high when you pass and a lot won't insure you or want millions depending on the type of car

Plus you're very restricted in some senses lile you need separate tests for basically every type of vehicle now and if you learn automatic you have to do the test again if you wanna drive manual etc

so it's definitely not encouraging 😂

So I agree with the anon that says it's about time and money, thats definitely a major problem but they definitely do discourage you by making it so difficult to learn and pass, at least here they do idk about the rest of europe

(It's really interesting to see those videos where seasoned drivers try a modern driving test because they nearly always fail lol)

I would 100% fail there lmao

Here you can get your learners permit by studying on your own or in class. I got mine in high school at age 15 but I think you can attempt the test as early as age 14. You have to get 80% on the learners written test to obtain a learners license. Then you do the 6 (or more I don’t remember, I got my learners 15 years ago🫣) drives with the driver trainer. They give you a little card saying you’ve completed training and you present that when you go for the final road test. If you’re in high school you have to wait until you’re 16 to try, I can’t remember if there’s a wait time if you’re an adult. You’re supposed to be going on practice drives with a licensed driver in this time.

I had a horrible driver trainer who would scream at me and she really scared me out of driving and also no one had the time or energy to practice with me. So, I sat on my learners for 10 years before I went for my road test. It was kind of embarrassing because my training card was dated from like 2010 or something but it was still good I guess. You can practice as long as you need to. I pretty much just taught myself to drive. 😬

It only costs $55 dollars to go for the road test and there is a cancellation fee. If you fail you have to wait a little while before you can try again. It used to be even cheaper a few years ago at $22. Absolutely crazy.

Once you pass there are restrictions for about two years. If you have no incidents in the two years you’re good to go.

I think I’m a good driver compared to a lot of people here. Like it’s really bad here. But the province is like YOLO I guess… 😅😳

#ask #anon #this ams mine

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generalhumancloudalmond2 · 2 years ago

Text

Rumors

Platonic!Kunikida x Student!Fem!Reader

"Y/n! Stop yawning! Get involved in the lesson, now!"

Another yawn and your bored look. Well, at least you're looking at the board now.

"Well? How much will it be?"

"I don't know."

"I've had enough, Y/n. You're staying after school."

After that, Kunikida returned to the lesson, and you continued to yawn as if nothing had happened. When the bell rang, you, as expected, tried to sneak away, but the teacher quickly stopped it. Pointing to the desk opposite his, he told you to sit down, but you decided to show your character again and sat down in the place where you always sit, namely at the end of the class. Then he himself, with a tired sigh, comes up to you and sits down next to you.

Among all the students, you are one of the most difficult and problematic: you don't study, you trip up, you periodically arrange fights, you smoke. Many teachers have already dropped their hands, and as long as you didn't bring too many problems to other students, they just ignored you. However, there was one small "but", because of which the man wanted to believe that you would start study, namely: you had one hundred percent attendance. Yes, you attended all his classes, sometimes even stayed for extra ones, although you continued to do nothing.

"Y/n, the transition to high school is coming soon, and your grades are worse than ever. You need to pull yourself together and start learning. Now, I will do a quick test to figure out which topics you don't understand. And next week, I'll help you deal with them."

"No thanks, I'll pass."

You start to get up from your desk when he hits it loudly, forcing you to sit down at it again. Kunikida often spoke in raised tones, and it was easy enough to make him lose his temper, but he knocked on the table only when his righteous anger reached the point of no return.

"Y/n, what do you think you will become in the future?! With such grades, you threaten not to get into high school, not like the institute! I'm giving you a chance and I demand to take it! Because at this rate, you will quickly trample yourself into the mud, from which it will be impossible to get out!"

He stood over you and looked straight into your still bored eyes, he could understand from your look that you perfectly understand what he is talking about, just for some reason ignoring the fact of the problem.

"Okay, only if you back off."

Looks like he managed to break through your defenses. This is a success. The main thing is that you take the test seriously, and not as usual. Kunikida gives you three task sheets and continues to sit next to you to follow up. But it looks like you've decided to take the task seriously, since you have tried to solve one of the his mathematical examples for half an hour.

"If you don't know, it's okay, just skip it."

You don't say anything to him, you just keep looking for the answer to the task. To be honest, now he finally saw not your stubbornness, but your perseverance, which could not but please him.

"Y/n, are you doing well at home?"

"Passable."

"And classmates?"

"Yesterday I smacked one jerk from the parallel class."

Kunikida frowns, he doesn't like the way you talk about it easily, but you look exclusively at the sheet and don't notice his indignation at all.

"Why?"

"I just wanted to."

"Y/n, you can't do that, violence is bad, especially if there was no reason for this violence."

"Okay, I won't do it anymore."

It was too easy, but he didn't pursue the subject and decided to stop distracting you. At the end, when you had already handed in your work and were about to leave the classroom, something made him ask you about a rumor that had been walking around the school for some time.

"Y/n, I'm sorry if I'm meddling in my own business, but what is this ridiculous rumor going around the school? About the fact that you have some kind of relationship with the mafia?"

"My parents owed a huge amount of money to the mafia. It's true, if that's what you mean. The postponement expires tomorrow. You can pray for me if you want. Goodbye."

"Y/n, wait!"

You jumped out of the classroom. Deep down, you wanted help, even though you knew that in your case it was impossible, and it was too late to do anything...

On that day, Kunikida urgently tried to find any possible help for you, but no sane organizations and agencies wanted to go against the mafia. It wasn't until the next morning that he found an agency that was ready to get down to business, but you didn't come to school that day.

In the future, Kunikida will take an interest in your parents' case and he will find their bodies, but yours will not be among them.

#platonic bsd #platonic #kunikida doppo #platonic kunikida #child reader #bungou stray dogs #platonic bungou stray dogs #yandere platonic

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yoditorian · 3 years ago

Text

cross my heart

eddie/gn!reader

look it’s less than 12 hours until we get vol2 and i’ve convinced myself that this idiot isn’t going to make it - so i wrote a little baby fix it in case something horrible happens (this can absolutely be read in conjunction with crush, but works as a stand alone too)

main masterlist // series masterlist

word count: 2k // warnings: language, injuries, blood, overuse of italics, as a general rule for my work 18+ pls no babies

“You thought now was a good time to ask?”

“Well, we might die.”

“And that train of thought led you to asking me out for ice cream?”

Eddie’s fluttering his eyelashes at you as though you’re not standing in some parallel dimension, ready and waiting to keep a hundred hungry bat things preoccupied long enough for your friends to slip through the gate at the lake. Live bait. Because that’s always gone so well.

“Back me up here, Dust.” You turn to the boy in the vain hope of finding some semblance of reason, praying to anything and everything that he’ll spurt some words of wisdom that might leave room for you to dodge Eddie’s question entirely, but it’s no use.

Dustin reluctantly raises his head from the tangle of cables by the amps and shakes his head with a grimace,“

I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

You glance back at Eddie over your shoulder as Dustin’s plugging the last of the power cables into position, only to find him still looking at you. Eyebrows raised, hands out at his sides, that expectant little smile on his face. Damn it - now you’re fighting to keep your own face straight.

Another life, maybe.

Robin’s voice over the walkie saves you from making a fool of yourself even further, though you stumble a little in your haste to grab it from Dustin’s abandoned backpack.

“We’re in position, whenever you’re ready.”

“Roger that. Eyes on the skies, people” You drop the walkie back into the bag and reach out to wrap your hand around the neck of Eddie’s guitar, it’d be fun if you weren’t all about to risk your lives, “Showtime.”

You take the end of the final cable from Dustin’s outstretched hand, plugging the jack into the guitar, and carry it over to Eddie. Honestly, you’re surprised he let you even look directly at it, let alone pick the thing up. You could have sworn you heard him muttering something to it when he first brought it up.

“Hey,” He puts one hand gently over your own on the neck of the guitar, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I just - if there was ever a time to shoot my shot, I guess it’s now, right?”

And this time you can’t help but smile, because he’s not exactly wrong.

“Save the world and I’ll think about it, Munson.” You wink when he releases your hand, sliding the strap over his head and running his fingers over the strings as you scoop up the makeshift spear by his feet to take your position at the head of the trailer. Dustin stands at the opposite end, the both of you ready to swing at any bats that come too close for comfort.

It’s like they know. Dark spots silhouetted in the far distance against the glowing red storm, rising up one by one between flashes of lightning. Growing closer with every note Eddie plays. You risk a glance over your shoulder, just for a second, to watch him throw his head back as his fingers fly over the fretboard. And he was the one who said he was a runner, claimed he’s not the hero type. Bullshit. It takes effort to pull your eyes away, to refocus your attention on the approaching creatures. Adrenaline thrums in your veins, you’re ready.

And then they’re swarming. Swirling around you like a cloud, a hurricane. All gnashing teeth and whipping tails and beating wings, you’re lost to it. You lose sight of the boys, of the edge of the roof, of your own hand in front of your face. Any light that might have filtered through from the distant storm is blocked by the descending creatures. The sound of Eddie’s playing is drowned out by the screeching in your ears, so loud you’re sure it’s the last thing you’ll ever hear.

Their teeth tear at your clothes and skin as you lash out at them with the spear, the accompanying squeals of pain as the spiked tip sinks into flesh is frequent enough that for a moment you think you’re winning. You think you might actually make it out of this almost whole.

Until a tail wraps itself around your ankles, and you’re down. You feel the back of your head split open on the tile of the flat roof as the bat pulls your feet out from under you, drags you to the edge until there’s nothing to catch you. Suspended in the air for one long moment, and then you’re falling. Crashing to the ground in a heap of blood and bruises.

They pull up as one, hundreds, thousands of them, just as quickly as they arrived. Writhing and angry and baying for blood, hurtling back towards the gate at Lover’s Lake, leaving you disoriented. Ears ringing, you can only hope the others had enough time to make it through.

Someone, somewhere, calls your name. It’s weak, but it’s there, though peeling yourself off of the ground enough to look for the source has every inch of your body screaming. You just about manage to lock your elbows, wedge your shoulders in place enough to sit up as the gravel bites into the palms of your hands. But looking around, there’s no one there. You lost sight of the boys in the swarm and the fear that they were carried off sits low and cold in the pit of your stomach. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. It’s just you now.

No - someone is definitely shouting for you.

The bones of your neck creak as you lift your head enough to find the trailer, straining to see something when a head of curly hair appears on the roof.

Dustin.

He doesn’t look too worse for wear, barring a cut on his forehead. Thank fuck. He’s sliding the ladder off of the roof and back down over the side of the house the moment he sees you, clambering down faster than you’ve ever seen him move to tackle you into a hug. The cuts sting as he squeezes you, and you’re not sure if it’s blood or tears that are wetting his shoulder, but you don’t have the energy to care. You can buy him a new hoodie if he wants.

“Eddie?” You croak as Dustin finally loosens his grip.

“He’s not moving.”

And your blood runs cold.

People have died before. Every time another monster from the Upside Down rears its ugly head, people die. But you knew something felt different about this time. Nothing has ever reached through before, not without having a link already. The demogorgans’ main concern always seemed to be food, the Mind Flayer was after Will and Eleven, but Vecna? It’s different this time, there’s been a tiny voice in the back of your head since Chrissy died - you knew this one wasn’t going to go the way you wanted. You’ve never been so disappointed in being right.

Now it’s just you, Dustin, and the barely concealed fear in his eyes. Time to be the grown up.

“Alright, help me up.”

And he does, bless him. He hoists you up from the ground and takes most of your weight on his shoulders as you both shuffle around the trailer, towards where Eddie lays. Your eyes are squeezed shut against the throbbing pain in your head, content enough to let Dustin guide you, until you kick a rock that twangs discordantly. You crack them open to find Eddie’s guitar at your feet, utterly destroyed.

But there he is, only a few feet away, curled on his side with his back to you.

Dustin helps you limp over, lowers you to your knees behind Eddie’s head, and deposits himself on his other side.

Every inch of skin you can see is littered with bite marks, his clothes slashed by claws and tails and teeth. There’s a whole chunk taken out of his shoulder, steadily seeping his blood into the dirt beneath him. You’re kneeling in a puddle of it.

“Eddie?” You’re gentle as you shift him onto his back, laying his head on your knees. There’s a deep gash in his forehead, the hair at his temple caked in blood, and he’s cold and pale and - and you can’t let him die. You’re not losing him like this.

Though, you’re not sure when he became yours to lose.

“Well I must be dead if I’m seeing an angel.”

The fact he’s alive outweighs the horrendous pickup line, you have to give him that at least.

“Nobody’s dying today, Munson,” You’re firm, certain, as you ignore your screaming injuries to tug your jacket off and ball it up against the gaping chunk missing from his shoulder, “How are you supposed to kiss me after our ice cream date if you’re dead?”

“You’d let me kiss you? You’re full of surprises.”

“You gotta live first, okay?”

He swipes a thumb over the teeth marks in your cheek, smearing the drying blood over your jaw. Dazed, but mesmerised by the trail his touch leaves on your skin.

“Sure thing, beautiful. Cross my heart.”

And then his eyes slip shut and he’s gone, slumped in your lap, chest barely rising with laboured breaths.

“We have to get back through before the gates close!” Dustin’s doing the math in his head, you can see it. There’s no way the both of you can lift him through the mini gate in the trailer’s roof, and you won’t make it to the lake before it closes. Your only hope is that the others made it through, that they’re waiting in the trailer on the other side.

You take one long look at Eddie’s closed eyes, the very real chance that they’ll stay that way if you don’t get a move on and do something.

“Help me with him.”

It’s five long, long days before he opens them again.

Slowly, but they do. He looks worse under the stark hospital lights. Pale and clammy, bruised and bandaged and squinting against the strip lights overhead. You’re still there, in the chair that you planted by his bedside the moment they let you in. The chair you parked your ass in and flat out refused to leave until he woke up. The boys have been a steady stream in and out of the other chair, sitting by the window, any time they could get in. Robin’s been a regular, bringing you snacks and sitting in your place when you had to pee. It’s safe to say Eddie Munson has been well and truly adopted into this dysfunctional little family of yours.

You fluff the pillows, help him sit up, and pour him a glass of water.

His eyes widen as Callaghan passes the window into the hall, but you’re there with a gentle hand in his hair and that same soft smile you turned on his way back in the boathouse at the start of all this.

“Me and the others have already given our statements about the bear attack. So much for our Spring Break camping trip, right? You came out with the worst of it, so it’s okay if you can’t remember anything. They’ll understand.”

“Bear attack?” He sounds awful. Hoarse and scratchy, but alive. There’s not a lot more you could ask for.

“Mhm, big one.”

He takes a sip of the water, uncharacteristically quiet, and you can’t help but smile at him. The self proclaimed coward, who risked his life for a group of kids from his D and D group and their assortment of mismatched attachments. Who stared demon bats from a parallel dimension in the face and laughed. Who saved the life of every one of your friends. It takes you a minute to realise he’s watching you watch him. You’re so caught up in your own thoughts, you almost miss his next words.

“Marry me.”

Oh, this boy. This boy is trouble. This boy is beautiful, wide eyed, heartbreaking trouble.

“You promised me an ice cream date, remember?”

“Okay, but what are you doing after?”

You can’t help your laughter, can’t help the little tear that escapes the corner of your eye as it finally sinks in that he’s okay. He’s alive.

“Can’t say no to a guy in a hospital bed. I get pity points.” There it is. That smile. The very same one he gave you on the roof of his trailer, guitar in hand, ready to be the hero.

“We’ll see, hotshot.”

taglist (add yourself to my stranger things taglist here):

@bee-dameron @generalfoolish @levylovegood @chicorogers

#501 universe #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #liz does words

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

this is just a post listing all of the scenes in BnHA which underline Bakugou’s narrative importance and the way that it’s intrinsically connected to Deku and his storyline, because I really want to emphasize that the MORE THAN 300 CHAPTERS OF BUILD-UP just slightly outweigh the literal seven chapters in which he hasn’t played a major role just lately. recency bias is a thing guys, and we should all try to remember that.

not Kacchan establishing his goal and ultimate endgame less than one page after his introduction.

not Kacchan being saved by Deku less than an hour after burning his notebook and telling him to jump off a roof, establishing the contradictory nature of their relationship right from the get-go, and changing Deku’s destiny forever as All Might witnesses this moment and realizes that Deku is more heroic than he ever could have imagined. “you looked like you needed saving.” that’s a line that’s already had at least one callback, and with Deku now struggling in the current manga the time could be ripe for an even more powerful one.

not “win and save” being established as the two cornerstones of the hero philosophy all the way back in chapter 5, with Deku and Kacchan each embodying one of these dual aspects, and being narratively primed to walk opposite paths in their respective hero journeys, only to meet at the middle when they reach the end.

not Deku and Kacchan having an iconic battle less than ten chapters into the series, during which their rivalry is further established and the complicated history of their childhood friendship is expanded on.

not Kacchan’s first childhood flashback revealing that the pivotal, character-defining event of his childhood was baby Deku reaching out his hand and asking if he was okay.

not Deku instinctively reaching out to Kacchan yet again all of two chapters later, making a fateful decision which will have massive ramifications down the line and which will eventually alter the course of Kacchan’s character development.

not Kacchan’s teachers thoughtfully praising his “overwhelming tenacity” and All Might noting his potential for greatness early on the series.

not Deku choosing a hero name originally given to him by Kacchan, but repurposing and reclaiming it, and possibly paving the way for another parallel that’s just waiting to be capitalized on. Kacchan feel free to tell us more about your own hero name’s meaning whenever you get a chance.

not Deku becoming stronger by learning from Kacchan (win to save).

not Deku and Kacchan deliberately being paired together for their final exam and Kacchan having a fucking meltdown until Deku literally knocks some sense into him, at which point he immediately gets his head back on straight because the two of them are capable of getting through to each other in a way that nobody else can.

not All Might being all “THIS FIGHT SURE IS SOME GREAT FORESHADOWING FOR THE TWO OF THEM TEAMING UP TOGETHER IN THE FUTURE AS FORETOLD BY DESTINY.”

not Kacchan becoming stronger by taking a page out of Deku’s book (save to win).

not Deku being the last person Kacchan sees before the LoV take him away, and the two of them locking eyes until the last possible second before Kacchan disappears and Deku literally falls to his knees screaming in the most dramatic breakdown of the entire series.

not the two of them being singled out in a crowd of hundreds and framed side by side desperately cheering on All Might in his darkest hour in the battle which will change the entire course of the series.

not Aizawa literally saying that class 1-A revolves around Bakugou and Deku.

not Deku and Kacchan having the most iconic battle of the entire series and being all “goddammit I can’t figure out why my entire life revolves around you and it’s driving me crazy” and being fully honest with each other for the first time in their lives, and then having All Might come over and tell them “you two need each other, and you need to learn from each other, because each of you intuitively understands part of what it means to be a great hero, and by working together you will both one day be able to rise to the top.”

not Kacchan, and only Kacchan, being inducted into Club OFA a full two hundred chapters before anybody else.

not Kacchan and Deku obsessing over showing off for each other in the Joint Training arc while All Might looks on like a proud dad.

not Kacchan’s phenomenal progress in the JT arc being traced directly back to the lessons he learned from All Might and Deku.

not Deku being triggered into activating a wholeass new fucking quirk because someone said something mean about Kacchan.

not Horikoshi answering the question of “so what’s next for Kacchan’s character development?” with “he’s going to begin the slow burn process of realizing that he needs to make amends to Deku.”

not Kacchan being focused on Deku during Tomura’s attack on Jakku, and realizing what he’s about to do, and immediately moving in step beside him without the slightest hesitation because he’s determined to stay with him and protect him.

not All Might literally saying “THEY WILL GET A CHANCE TO TALK YOU GUYS SO JUST BE PATIENT.”

not Kacchan unconsciously emulating Deku when he’s focused on saving, and mimicking everything from his exact style of strategizing down to his speech patterns, in the exact same way that Deku starts unconsciously imitating Kacchan’s own mannerisms and speech when he’s focused on winning.

not Kacchan’s milestone “Rising” chapter being explicitly centered around this transcendent moment when he reacts without thinking in order to save Deku’s life.

not Deku activating a wholeass new fucking quirk AGAIN because someone insulted Kacchan AGAIN.

not Kacchan being all “Deku’s not the only one whose quirk goes through Awakenings when he sees that his childhood rivalfriend is in danger.”

not Kacchan having an entire character arc devoted solely to the importance of him choosing a hero name, which he has yet to reveal to Deku.

last but not least, not a whole entire montage of Horikoshi interview quotes with him talking about the thematic importance of “win to save, save to win” (it’s literally what heroism means to him), and talking about Bakugou’s future, and how he’s determined to write an even better ending than the one in Heroes Rising, and how the story will have a conclusion where all of the characters come together in the end.

so yeah. just in case it isn’t clear from all of this,

Bakugou and Deku’s destinies are intertwined in a way that runs deeper than any other connection in the series

the two of them have spurred on each other’s growth throughout the entirety of the manga

their character development has revolved around each other literally from the start

their journeys mirror and complement each other in a way that enriches the narrative

they each represent one half of All Might’s legacy

and their bond is at the center of the series’s emotional resonance

and Horikoshi is not just going to all of a sudden forget all of that and ignore it entirely in the series’s final act. I literally can’t understand why anyone would think that. it’s all right there you guys. 300 chapters’ worth of history and development. this is how it is, and this is how it has always been. like it or not, these two idiots are both in this together, and their respective endgames are inextricably tied to one another. win and save, you guys.

#bnha meta #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bakugou meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #fifty-one images in this post lol #tumblr you have such a good thing going on right now seriously #why would you want to change that #is it because people like me keep making gigantic posts with fifty images apiece #don't answer that

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szallejhscorner · 4 years ago

Note

This will probably be my last request for a while, cause I’m running out of ideas XD. Staying in that “they-remember-everything” AU from my first request, s/o’s first time visiting/finding Chishiya at the hospital. Basically just make it a happy and (probably pretty) emotional reunion ^^. Maybe also up to the point then he finally gets out of the hospital. If you want, you can also use the forelast chapter of 'HliF' as reference again, because it was so heartbreaking beautifully written 😭

So sorry you had to wait that long! But I finally managed to finish this, and I hope you like it as much as I do (:

Thank you for all the asks you have sent me. I enjoyed every single one of them x3

Reunited

It is weird – pretending that you’re fine even though you’re not. In fact, you’re everything but fine. The images still haunt you; all the blood, the death… the pain. What you experienced in the Borderlands is too much to talk about to anyone who hasn’t been there, but people don’t believe you anyway. You have heard the weirdest explanations for hundreds of people waking up after their heart stopped beating for a minute straight, with the same memories of the same cursed parallel world. They can’t accept the fact that whatever happened cannot be explained.

But you’ll manage to get over it somehow. All you need is to see a certain face, kiss those lips that you have kissed hundreds of times, make sure he’s alive and okay. The only problem with that: Chishiya Shuntarou isn’t stationed in your hospital. You don’t know where he is, and they won’t let you go until you have recovered enough to be exposed to the world outside of those hospital walls again.

So you make them believe what they want to see. The physical injuries aren’t the problem, since most of the wounds seem to be older already. Just another thing people can’t explain, no matter how hard they try. What’s hard for you are the scars cannot be treated with gouge and dressings.

You muffle the screams escaping your mouth whenever you wake up from another nightmare, you eat although you’re not hungry and force every fiber of your body to keep it together so you won’t throw up everything again. You force a smile, no matter how much it hurts your cheeks. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re FINE.

You will be fine, once you’re with him.

With every day passing by, you wonder if he has made it. If he was able to survive long enough to get proper treatment for the wounds that were about to kill him. If he remembers the Borderlands as well.

If he remembers you.

The day arrives, and you chase through the hospital floors like a shooting star. Sunlight hurts your eyes, the noise from the street is almost too much to bear, but you don’t care. Nothing is important right now except one thing.

There’s no need to take out the note safely placed in your pocket. A nurse told you that it had been found in your clothes, but you wouldn’t have needed it. You were given days to find out where his university was located, and the hospital linked to it will be the very first place you’ll start your search. And yet the walkways are too long, the underground drives too slow. People seem to purposely walk into your way to slow you down, and you want to scream and shout at every single one of them. But you don’t.

It feels like hours until you finally find yourself in front of a certain hospital, panting heavily and the pain in your wrists almost killing you. Not that it’d cause you to slow down in any way; you almost stumble over the desk and scare the hell out of the poor reception lady.

“Chishiya Shuntarou. I… is he here? Can you… can you tell me his room number?”

She makes you repeat his name three times until she finally understands enough to search for him in the system, but you don’t like the frown on her face.

“May I ask who you are? His girlfriend?” pale grey eyes look you up and down while you think about how to answer. What are you, now that the Borderlands are left behind?

But the fact that she’s asking in the first place means that you were right about him being in the hospital, and he has to be still alive. So you take a deep shaky breath and nod, which seems to be enough of an answer for the lady. She gives you a room number, tells you to move to the left corridor once you’ve reached the second floor, and something more but you don’t listen any longer because your feet have already started to run again.

Second floor. The elevator takes too long, and you sprint up the stairs instead – less people to cross your way at least. He is here. That means he is alive. He has survived. And now you can finally see him.

Crashing through the door into the second floor, you knock over a petite nurse with full force but manage to remain on your feet. The contents of her tray scatter on the ground, a glass breaks and people shout in surprise, but you don’t have the time to care. You shout an apology and continue to run, shove away shoulders too close to you while doing so.

Room 1504. Why is it so far away? Why did they place him at the other end of the hospital – don’t they know you’re in a hurry?

1544, 1542… 1532… 1522, 1520, 1518… 1506…

There!

You’re about to feint from exhaustion when you press your hands against the wall, panting and breathing heavily although each move of your lungs burns like fire. Ten breaths, that’s all you allow yourself before you lift your head.

1504. This is the room.

As you open the door, dozens of beeping noises greet you together with the smell of disinfectant. Two beds are inside, and you immediately spot the blonde hair you have longed to be with for so long now. Chishiya slightly moves his head to see who has entered, and the moment your eyes meet, you know that he remembers too.

Before your mind can even realize it, your feet have begun to run again and you throw yourself into the embrace of the man you love so much. He groans in pain at the sudden weight of your body, but his hands tighten around your back nonetheless. Even if you wanted to release him from your touch, he wouldn’t let you.

Tears start running uncontrollably, and your body is shaken with sobs, so heavy that it hurts. “You’re alive!” you whisper in between two hiccups and finally move to cup his face into your hands, covering his forehead with kisses. “Thank god you’re alive.”

Chishiya places his hands upon yours, causing you to lock eyes with him. His touch is still weaker than usual, but his hands are warm. They are nothing alike to the cold, weak hands that tried to caress your face back in the Borderlands.

“So are you.” His voice is hoarse, pressed, but it’s Chishiya. The tears blur your sight so heavy that you can’t see him clearly, but that’s fine because you know he’s here without having to see him. “Stop crying now, will you?”

You laugh at the familiar smirk on his face and press your lips against his, and the salty taste brings back memories of the last time you did this.

You bend over his face to plant a kiss onto his lips, and it’s laced with the salt of your tears and the metallic taste of Chishiya’s blood. “I love you. I love you more than anything.”

It feels like an eternity ago that you cried those tears of sorrow while you had to watch Chishiya slowly slip away from the land of the living with nothing you could do. Both of you are here now, and the drops cascading down your cheeks are tears of joy.

A tremble passes through his body, and you can hear how he shakily breathes in. “I… like it when… you say that…”

“I love you.” You have said it a dozen times back then, and you’re ready to say it a thousand times more. “I loved you in the Borderlands, and I will love you here. As long as you’re okay… I’ll be as well.”

Chishiya chuckles softly, and you wonder for a moment how much he remembers from the last hours where you feared for his life. “Alive, yeah. Okay… we’ll see about that.”

“Oh, geez, you really have to do that next to me?”

A sudden voice from the left makes you jolt in surprise, and you realize that you didn’t even care to look who else is sharing this room with Chishiya. But this voice, even though it is weakened and brittle…

In less than a second, you’re back on your feet and cling your hands around a neck that’s covered in bandages. All monitors around you sound the alarm, but you don’t care about the rapid beeping noises.

“You!” The hatred chases away all the remaining tears as you stare into a pair of sleepy and confused eyes. Niragi looks much worse than Chishiya, and yet he doesn’t even deserve to be still alive. The one who almost killed Chishiya, recovering right next to him…

Something pulls you back with a sudden force just in time before two nurses hastily enter the room to check the systems. You realize that Chishiya has reached for you to stop you from doing something stupid, and it shows in his pained expression.

“What’s wrong?” one of the nurses asks while resetting the monitors, and she doesn’t seem able to decide if she should worry more about the heavy coughing attack shaking Niragi or the face Chishiya makes.

You drop down on the side of the bed, unable to move or say anything. How can they share a room and be so calm about it? How can those nurses not see that Niragi is a murderer?

Chishiya pulls away the blanket and you utter a cry at the sight of the dark red spot spreading on the pale blue fabric of his hospital shirt, immediately feeling sorry to have caused him so much trouble shortly after your first reunion. But this wouldn’t have happened at all if Niragi didn’t…

“The wound started to bleed again”, Chishiya quietly explains to the nurse as if this had been the reason for sounding the alarm. He squeezes your hand tight, most likely to keep you from saying anything, but you wouldn’t have been able to anyway.

How stupid! If one of the nurses had caught you strangling one of the patients, you would have been thrown out of the hospital immediately. Surprisingly, Niragi doesn’t give you away, but he seems too occupied with his own coughs to do that anyway. Good for him.

You bite your lower lip while you watch the nurse patch up Chishiya’s wound. It has to be painful, but Chishiya doesn’t show much of it. His eyes are focused on yours, and you can see them twitch once in a while whenever there’s a new sting of pain. With your own eyes, you try to tell him that you’re sorry, and behind your back you can hear the other nurse giving something to Niragi that eases the cough.

It takes them too long to leave, but they do so eventually, and you exhale the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“I can’t believe he’s still alive”, you hiss with a nod towards Niragi, and said man drops his head back into the pillows with a tired sigh.

“No thanks to you, obviously.”

Chishiya pulls the blanket back up again and shifts a bit in his bed to lie more comfortably. “They found us close to each other and put us in the same room, since we both required intensive care.”

“Yeah, but he tried to kill you!” you shoot back, still confused about how they just don’t seem to care about the past.

Niragi laughs, a dry and cackled sound. “So did he. Never wondered where those burning marks came from?” The laugh turns into a cough, but it’s not so heavy this time.

“We’re even, I guess”, Chishiya smirks and you feel how his fingers start to play with your hair. Oh, how much you’ve missed that! “If only he’d stop that coughing. It’s hard to sleep with so much noise.”

“I’ve already tried to die more quietly.”

It sounds like a joke, but when you throw another look at Niragi, you wonder if it might be the truth. Is he actually dying? Most of him is hidden under the blanket, but his face is almost entirely covered in bandages. There are several tubes and infusion bags connected to him, and you spot a feeding tube as well.

Chishiya still has infusions too, but not nearly as many as Niragi. And he doesn’t seem to need artificial nutrition. “You failed, obviously”, he jokes back, but this isn’t funny to you.

“If you’re actually dying…” the hand in your hair moves down and softly pulls on your shoulder while you speak, “you should hurry up instead.”

Niragi laughs again, but it doesn’t last long before it turns into pained groans and coughs. You focus on Chishiya instead, letting him pull you into a hug while you try to find a halfway comfortable position next to him in the hospital bed.

When you close your eyes and snuggle up to him, it’s almost easy to pretend you’re in the caravan again. In the place that had become your home during the second stage, where you could feel safe despite the cruel world you had been trapped in.

“Don’t worry about him”, Chishiya hums after a while, when a light snoring has begun to sound on the other bed, “if everything’s good, they want to relocate me to a normal room tomorrow. My injuries don’t require intensive care any longer, it seems.”

It is true: when you visit the next morning, Chishiya has been moved to another room in the third floor, which makes the visit way more comfortable. Not only are you allowed to stay longer than only half an hour, which apparently has been a strict rule for intensive care, but there’s no Niragi nearby and no monitors, just a single infusion bag. You don’t know the other patients in the room, but they’re not of any interest and hidden behind white curtains anyway.

The first days you spend mostly with lying in the bed next to him, not talking too much since it seems to tire him. Sometimes he even falls asleep, and you feel like you’re the one protecting him in this most vulnerable state.

Since you tend to spend hours in the hospital now, you start to bring along something to drink and eat. Coffee for you and always something sweet for Chishiya, every day a different cake or pastry. And after two more weeks, you’re the one to support him when he’s allowed to take his first steps.

Chishiya obviously doesn’t like to be so openly called out as weak, with the infusion stand rolling on one side and you on the other while he tries to acclimate his legs to the weight again, but you’re the least person he seems to bother about. It is only a couple of steps at first, but the distance grows longer with every day. Another couple of days pass and Chishiya has become strong enough to walk to the balcony with you, where he drops down into the seat with a heavy sigh.

You pull up another chair and take a seat next to him, reaching for his hand and resting your head upon his shoulder. The view from the balcony isn’t exactly beautiful – it shows destroyed buildings and streets, remnants of the chaos left by the comet. You have become used to the sight of it, but for Chishiya it’s something new - judging by the frown on his face as he examines the city.

“A miracle we actually survived this, isn’t it?”

He hums in agreement, his thumb absently moving over the back of your hand. A very long time ago, you have done the same with his. “It will take years for Tokyo to recover, if not decades.”

“Well… the doctor said I should be able to get back to work soon. And since my old employment has been destroyed, I… I thought I could move closer to you.”

It has felt weird to return to your apartment without Chishiya. Sleeping alone in the hospital has been something else, but the following nights in your own bed, knowing that Chishiya was alive but not next to you… In those nights, when you wake up from just another nightmare, you miss the Borderlands the most, despite everything cruel. But at least Chishiya had been with you to calm you down.

“And you think you’d find a new work here?”

You shrug, a weird move considering your current position. “I don’t have a chance other than to search for something new, and this district is as good as everything else.” Holding tight to his hand, you move it up to your face and press a kiss onto the warm skin. “I’m not saying that we should move together immediately. Although I wouldn’t mind, you know that. But… it’d be easier to live closer to you.”

Without having to work, you can spare the extra hours that it takes to travel from your apartment to Chishiya’s hospital. But once you have returned to a normal daily routine, you won’t have as much time for that.

“Sure, why not?” Chishiya doesn’t go into detail with your idea of moving together, but he doesn’t say much more at all, so maybe he’s just tired again. You continue to sit there for almost half an hour without talking, and more than once you look up to check if he has fallen asleep. But his eyes are open, casually moving over the cranes and scaffoldings covering the city.

Time flies by, but you keep returning to the balcony once in a while just to sit there in silence. The infusion stand is the first thing to disappear, and after a while, Chishiya doesn’t need your support anymore. He still holds on to your hand, though.

While he becomes stronger with each day, the city changes as well. Fragile buildings are torn down, wreckage disappears and streets are being rebuilt. Despite the hard times Tokyo is facing, you find both a good job and a nice apartment not far away from the hospital. And while you can’t spend whole days with Chishiya anymore, you soon find a new routine that works perfectly fine.

Sometimes you tell him about work while he’s eating a strawberry cake, then you both chuckle over some memory from the Borderlands while muffin crumbles cover the floor to your feet.

Winter approaches when Chishiya is allowed to leave the hospital for a few hours the first time, and it leads you to a tea house with fresh waffles which are served with a full ton of vanilla cream and red berries. A couple more times you visit, no matter the thick layer of snow now covering the streets and buildings.

And then, only a few days before Christmas, Chishiya is allowed to finally leave the hospital.

His body has recovered well enough so it doesn’t require daily treatment anymore, and while he’s not allowed to go back to studying medicine for now, he can at least go home. After weeks and months he spent in the hospital, it is definitely about time for a change.

“Feel free to call me whenever there’s an appointment or anything”, you grin while walking along the street together. Chishiya’s hand rests in yours, and you carry the small bag with his belongings over the other shoulder. He has demanded to carry it, but you’re his stubborn for a reason and there are still wounds trying to fully mend, so you end up holding it despite his rolling eyes.

Your breath creates white clouds in front of your face, but the coat and the warmth of Chishiya’s touch keep you warm. He smirks down to you and gently nudges your shoulder without slowing his pace. “And I thought you’d be fed up with hospitals by now.”

“I don’t care as long as it’s about you”, you admit with a shrug. Sure, you really don’t want to smell the disinfectant or see those hospital gowns anymore, but a simple change of dressing isn’t that bad, because it means that Chishiya will be able to go home afterwards.

“Anyway… where’s your apartment? I thought it was located east from the hospital?”

The chuckle coming from Chishiya makes you look up, and he pulls on your hand when you stop walking. “Seems I forgot to tell you. I’ve given notice to quit it already three weeks ago.”

“But… where are you going to-“ you’re stopped mid-sentence by his smirk, slowly realizing what he’s up to. “I don’t even have a bed big enough for two…”

The expression in his eyes makes you laugh, and it’s hard to believe that this is actually his plan, but his next words prove it to you.

“We have managed the caravan. Can’t be worse than that, hmm?”

#chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #shuntaro chishiya #alice in borderland #aib #oneshot #chishiya x reader #reader x chishiya

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merry-thieves · 5 years ago

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Possible meanings of Chain of Iron snippets

Yes, this is going to be a long post.

I didn’t put all teasers here only those where I could actually come up with something.

Alastair looked amused. “Never before have I heard such a concise statement of the ludicrous philosophy with which you and your school friends go through the world.”

So, Alastair is definitely speaking to one of the Merry Thieves

probably James, since Al and Matthew aren’t on the best terms and conversations between Thomas and Al would go in another direction (either fighting or with way more feelings)

it seems like James and Alastair are on quite good terms here if Alastair isn’t snappish and shows his true (happy) emotions

Anna was fortress-surrounded by her friends: tall, handsome Thomas; Christopher, who shared his sister’s stern delicacy of feature, peacock Matthew, who always looked as if he’d just rolled out of an unmade bed piled with silks and velvet. And Eugenia Lightwood, who hadn’t bothered to take off her canary-yellow gloves or hat, as if she were ready to run out the door any moment.

They all eyed Ariadne suspiciously as she approached Anna. Anna didn’t seem to see her at all; she was leaning back with one booted foot braced on the wall behind her. She was all lean black and white lines, her close-fitting jacket following the outline of her slim curves, her head thrown back as she laughed. Her ruby pendant glimmered in the hollow of her throat.

Keep your head up, Ariadne, she told herself. You can do this.

“Hello, Anna,” Ariadne said.

First of all, Eugenia is in this group which is interesting regarding the main characters in Chain of Iron

Is Eugenia part of the main group? Has she an important role to play? (we are supposed to find out the reason why she is disgraced)

We have Ariadne’s pov here, so she might play a big role too in Choi, at least we will have more of her and Anna’s relationship

Also, she calls Matthew “peacock” which is so accurate and funny!

Alastair’s gaze flicked to Matthew. “Why,” he said, “are you not even wearing a hat?”

“And cover up this hair?” Matthew indicated his golden locks with a flourish. “Would you blot out the sun?”

Okay, Matthew and Alastair aren’t brawling which is a good sign

Also, where are they? There has to be a good reason if both of them are attending and standing next to each other

I’m guessing they’re outside since they’re supposed to wear hats

The brave princess Lucretia raced through the marble halls of the palace. "I must find Cordelia," she gasped. "I must save her."

"I believe the Prince holds her even now, captive in his throne room!" Sir Jerrod exclaimed. "But Princess Lucretia, even though you are the most beautiful and wise lady that I have ever met, surely you cannot fight your way through a hundred of his stoutest palace guard!" The knight’s green eyes flashed. His straight black hair was disarranged, and his white shirt was entirely undone.

"But I must!" Lucretia cried.

So, the main thing I want to point out here is that Lucie is crushing so hard on Jesse!

and does she picture him with an open shirt or am I reading too much into this?

James spoke at last, and there was real kindness in his voice. “You must give people time, Alastair,” he said. “We are none of us perfect, and no one expects perfection. But when you have hurt people you must allow them their anger. Otherwise it will only become another thing you have tried to take away.”

Alastair seemed to hesitate. “James,” he said. “Does he think —“

Soooo, James and Alastair are friendly now? (please, please, please)

And who does Alastair have to give time? Matthew or more likely Thomas?

Also, James is one eloquent babe

“I know that you’ve been doing something — something you’re keeping secret. I’m not angry,” Cordelia hastened to add. “I just wish you’d tell me what it is.”

Lucie tried to cover her surprise.

it was about time that those two speak about all their secrets! They want to become Parabatai for Raziel’s sake!

but I have the sneaking suspicion that Lucie is going to deflect the question or is going to make something up to avoid telling the truth

(please let me be wrong)

“Alastair! Cordelia!” A familiar voice bellowed up from downstairs.

Sona went white and laid a hand against the wall to steady herself. “Elias?”

I’m not sure about you guys but going white and bracing oneself against a wall doesn’t seem like someone is happy

So, I guess Sona isn’t really happy that Elias is back

is there another reason besides the drinking why she isn’t

and is Elias mad at his children? I mean he is bellowing

also why is Elias mad at all? All his charges were dropped and he is a free man once more

Cordelia shivered a little, though it was not cold in the room. “There is something weighing on you, Matthew,” she said gently. “A secret. Will you tell me what it is?”

She saw his hand go to his breast pocket, where he often kept his flask. Then he lowered it stiffly to his side and took a deep breath. “You do not know what you are asking.”

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I am asking for the truth. Your truth. You know mine, and I do not even know what makes you so unhappy.”

Cordelia told Matthew everything about her father and maybe about her feelings for James

if we’re lucky Matthew tells Cordelia about the poisoning and someone can finally help him (I think CC said that Matthew would tell Cordelia everything in Chain of Iron, hopefully that’s true)

also, Matthew doesn’t want to drink after Cordelia told him the story about her father

Matthew also found out why Alastair had been so mean in school and that Matthew can't really partially blame him for what happened with Charlotte

Jesse glanced out the window. They were passing through Piccadilly Circus, nearly deserted at such a late hour. The statue of Eros in the center was lightly dusted with snow; a lone tramp slept upon the steps below it. “Don’t have too much hope, Lucie. Sometimes hope is dangerous.”

“Have you said that to Grace?”

Jesse shook his head. “She won’t listen.”

is there a possibility that Lucie won’t try to raise Jesse from the dead and instead tries to stop Grace from doing so? (the parallels between this and qoaad are uncanny)

I don’t think that there is anything that will stop grace from trying to perform necromancy other than force

“I’ve been trying to hate you,” Thomas said quietly, “for what you did to Matthew. You richly deserve to be hated for what you have done.”

Alastair’s dark eyes glittered. “It wasn’t just his mother I slandered. It was your father, too. You know it. So you don’t have to—to act all high-minded about this. Stop pretending you are only upset on behalf of Matthew. Hate me on your own behalf, Thomas.”

he is calling him Thomas!!! Ahhhh! (so they’re probably alone)

Thomas doesn’t really hate Alastair at this point but also hasn’t fully forgiven him

at least he hasn’t thrown Alastair into the themes

maybe Thomas is trying to suppress the fact that Alastair also wronged Thomas’s own family and it’s easier for him to direct his attention to Matthew’s family?

His golden eyes were fixed on her, fierce as a hawk’s gaze. She said, "It doesn’t matter what I said. I wanted them to leave you alone —"

"I don’t believe you," he said. She could feel the slight tremors running through his body — tremors of stress, that meant he was holding himself very still. Holding himself back. "You don’t say things you don’t mean, Daisy —"

Okay now, what did she say? I’m guessing something quite flattering or that she loved him maybe?

also, who didn’t want to leave James alone? Some bigoted Enclave members?

is James trying to fight against the bracelet’s spell? Or is he breaking Cordelia’s heart yet again?

James closed his eyes. Against the back of his eyelids, he could see the city take shape—the minarets flung darkly against a blue sky, the silver river. Cordelia’s voice, low and familiar, rose above the clamor of his nightmare. He followed it out of the darkness, like Theseus following the length of thread out of the Minotaur’s labyrinth. And it was not the first time. Her voice had lifted him out of fever, once, had been his light in shadows. . . . A sharp pain spiked through his temples. He blinked his eyes open: he was firmly back in the present, his friends all looking at him worriedly. Cordelia had already moved away from him, leaving behind the lingering scent of jasmine. He could still feel where her fingers had rested against his shoulder.

JORDELIA! (Sorry; I just had to get that out)

What city is this? One in a demon dimension?

And does James have some kind of visions now? Interesting...

I love the connection between James and Cordelia

Apparently, the gracelet is trying to suppress James's feelings and memories of Cordelia...but please tell me he notices here that he is in love with her?

Also, Cordelia is trying to stay away from James :(

Hands caught his wrists; he was hauled up roughly, an arm around his back. he smelled brandy and cologne.

“Matthew,” he said, in a dry voice. “James needs water,” Christopher said. “Do we have any water?” “Never touch the stuff,” said Matthew, settling James onto the long sofa. He sat down next to him, staring so intently into James’s face that, despite everything, James had to stifle a laugh. “I’m fine, Matthew,” said James. “Also, I don’t know what you expect to discover by looking into my eyeball.”

Okay WHAT IS UP with James in the latest snippets?!? I NEED answers!

Is James follwing in his father's footsteps? Regarding drugs you know...

Also, Matthew has a tendency to stare into Jame's face (not that I blame him)

Christopher!

Okay, I'm devestated that James knows it's Matthew because he smells of alcohol. I'm NOT okay!

Also, what kind of stuff is this?

“You should have told us,” said Thomas. “We would have helped you move your things. I’m exceptionally good at carrying large objects.” “And think of all those hairbrushes you would have had to relocate,” Lucie said. “Haven’t you got six or seven?” Matthew glowered at her affectionately. “I try to be at least as stylish as our local ghosts.”

I think it's clear that Matthew just moved and didn't tell any of his friends of his plans...Why Matthew, why?

Also, Thomas and Lucie are just so wholesome how they try to brighten the situation with their comments

Sooooo, is Thomas also good at carrying people *cough*Alastair*cough*, just asking...?

How many Hairbrushes does one need? Seriously, what kind of purpose do seven hairbrushes serve?

Don't worry Matthew, only Magnus can beat your stylishness

That’s all for now! Should I add anything else in your opinion?

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peachyteabuck · 5 years ago

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ceo chronicles. pt iii ~ wanda maximoff

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each character is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue.

fic summary: something goes very, very wrong at one of wanda’s business dealings. you are left to help her pick up the pieces - no matter what that means.

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

words: 2398

trigger warnings: possessive wanda, anger-fucking, collars, spreader bars, riding crop, ball gags

notes/other: this was done for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s “old hollywood” writing challenge, my prompt was “Must I always wear a low cut dress to be important?” - Jean Harlow and has been bolded within the fic!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Wanda storms into the penthouse, her stiletto heels clacking against the dark, hardwood floors.

She’s angry, furious – and whether or not it’s aimed at you doesn’t matter, your heart picks up in your chest either way.

“That two-timing sun of a bitch!” she screams, throwing her purse on the ground. Her coat follows shortly.

You watch her, eyes wide in terror, as you stand in the kitchen. She bought the place for its open floor plan and, initially, you had liked it too.

Now, though, with nothing to hide behind, you regret not going with the more closed space in SoHo.

“That motherfucker undersold me,” she screams, standing in place as she yells to no one in particular. “He told me the piece was worth one point two fucking million, and it sells for less than a hundred fucking thousand!”

Oh fuck. If you weren’t scared out of your goddamn mind before you sure are now.

There are two things in this world no one should fuck with when it comes to Wanda’s possessions:

The first is you.

Once, a man accidentally brushed against you at a gallery opening and Wanda nearly bit him – throwing red wine on his white shirt and screaming at him to leave.

Once he was out of her sight, she dragged you to the nearest bathroom, leaving a deep hickey high enough on your neck that you couldn’t hide it before making you show it off to the guests for a few more hours.

The second, is her money.

It’s not that Wanda’s not charitable, far from it; she claims millions on her taxes every year.

It’s just that she’s in charge of those things. She decides who gets what and when, she controls when her Black card is used and why. When people promise to bring her a certain amount of profit, they better fucking deliver, or else…this happens.

This meaning her getting so mad she looks like she could cause wildfires. All those earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, everything – those aren’t tectonic plates, no, they’re something much more powerful.

Wanda’s anger can move mountains, make species go extinct.

And, most important by far, it can make you shake in fear.

“That fucker, I should have known when he asked that I wear some fucking,” you can hear the venom in her voice, spitting over everything as she grabs the Stoch – the nice stuff, from the lockbox deep in the cupboard. She throws the bags of junk food – the chips you like and the cookies she loves – across the kitchen before stabbing in the code with her perfectly manicured nails. She doesn’t speak until she’s had two sips straight from the container, face wincing slightly before she sets it back on the counter. “To wear some fucking slip to the meet up, as if he needed to see me in anything at all! Ugh!” she scoffs, taking another long swig. “Must I always wear a low-cut dress to be important?”

You don’t reply, staying silent and inert as what could be the scariest thing unfolds in front of you.

Out of nowhere, she stills, taking exactly three, ten-second-in and ten-second-out breaths. It’s after that that she steps over to the large navy-blue sectional, sitting on it with her feet flat on the floor.

“Get on your fucking knees,” Wanda hisses.

You drop to the floor without hesitation, petrified.

Wanda watches you intently for a moment, jaw clenching as she moves to sit on the couch, feet flat against the floor. She pats her right hand against her right knee twice, and you immediately understand what she wants.

You fall across her knees, one arm grabbing her ankle while the other folds behind your back for her to grab – each action desperate to be obedient, to try to throw a fire blanket over the ravenous, burning thing that’s overtaken her.

There’s very little warning before she’s pulled the sundress up and bunching it into your fist, giving you little warning before leaving a slap against your ass – barely covered by the flimsy cotton underwear.

She ignores you, when you cry out, ignores you when tears begin to stream from your eyes and when blood spills from your bottom lip when it gets caught between your teeth.

It isn’t until your ass feels like it’s been branded when she lets up, inadvertently giving you a moment to breathe as she clenches her fists in front of her.

“It’s not enough!” Wanda screams, pushing you onto the floor. You fall against the wood hard, making you cry out in pain as she stomps away. “It’s not enough! Why isn’t it enough!”

Through the ringing in your ears you can hear her in the bedroom, the distinct sound of a six-bolt padlock being clicked open ricocheting in your eardrums. The only thing locked with that sort of hardware is the chest Wanda keeps all your kink-related items in, separating into layers by the degree of play.

It starts light at the top; blindfolds and a few cute collars with equally cute pet names engraved onto small heart-shaped nameplates. One of them is even diamond-encrusted, PROPERTY OF WANDA spelled out in bold print across pink faux leather. You can picture them even as your brain becomes fuzzy, can see them vividly against a distinct white velvet Wanda picked out especially.

The second layer, and the third (due to the size of the collection) are dildos, vibrators, butt plugs of more sizes and varieties than you can count. You can hear her removing those two shelves hastily, tearing through the rest of the box until she gets to the last level, the one you fear the most:

They’re rarely used, only barely broken in. A spreader bar Natasha got Wanda as a gag gift about a year ago. A riding crop Wanda bought at a kink convention awhile ago on an intoxicated whim. A thick collar meant for posture made of pure, soft leather and a solid gold latch. And, lastly, a fine leather ball gag, deep and black and beautifully handmade.

All four of them stiff and mean, just like Wanda in times like these.

She calls you into the bedroom with a shout, smiling when she hears you rushing from your felled position in the living room.

You can see the last fleeting moment of it when you cross the threshold, see that her anger has an end and this is not some permanent fixture in your still-budding relationship.

“Down,” she says simply, and you drop, sitting back on your heels.

Your hands remain palms-down on your thighs with your spine straight as one of those expensive paintings that decorate so many of the walls in the place you and her call home.

It stays that way – your spine parallel to the walls – as the collar is dangled in front of your eyes before being secured around your neck.

“Too tight?” Wanda asks, emotionless.

You shake your head as she sticks two fingers, the pads pressed into the soft skin of your neck. “Good.”

The ritual is repeated for the ball gag, the toy wrapped around your head and subsequently checked for fit.

She then instructs you to get on the bed, perpendicular to her as you lay on your back. You can’t see it – but the rustling and distinct clacking sound of metal pieces moving together can tell you she’s grabbing the very toys you’re terrified of the most.

The plain white ceiling gives you something to stare at, to fixate on as you feel the soft leather cuffs tightening before being checked. It’s almost sweet – the little ritual – if it didn’t immediately lead to your imminent torture.

You can feel her stepping back, heated eyes raking up your body slowly, surely. She watches carefully as your cunt pulses under her heated gaze, watches each muscle twitch as you anxiously await her next move.

Wanda looks at you the same way you think starving lionesses look at zebras separated from the safety of their heard. Her eyes zero in on her pulsing cunt, watching for the perfect moment to-

SMACK!

The riding crop comes down quick against your center, a sharp pain causing a fiery heat to spread up your ribs and down to your toes.

“Does that hurt, baby?” Wanda coos, twirling the end of the crop between the fingers of her nondominant hand.

You nod, trying desperately to gasp for air as drool spills out of the sides of your mouth. “Mmm,” is all you can get from behind the plastic. “Hngf.”

Wanda just laughs down at you, smacking the end light enough not to hurt but hard enough to tease you.

“Aw, my pretty little thing,” a faux pout paints itself across her face. “Such a sensitive baby.”

You whine, overwhelmed and desperate and oh so desperate to press your thighs together for any kind of pressure where you need it most. But no, of course not. Wanda wants to see you struggle, looks down at you with a smirk playing across her lips as you twist and beg, hoping she’ll find it in herself to give you mercy.

Given how the hours previous had gone, though, you doubt she’ll give you any.

“I’m going to give you one of these,” Wanda snaps the crop against your left inner thigh and smirks when you yelp. “For each hundred thousand I lost today.”

You do the mental math – whole body tensing. Nineteen. You’re about to get whipped nineteen times with a toy you haven’t broken in…

Shivers run up your spine and each muscle in your body tenses – whether in fear or anticipation, you don’t know and don’t really care to find out.

The first one comes down against the same inner thigh as before, sure to leave angry hot welts that will need constant care in the next few days. The second goes against the opposite side – skin previously untouched now screaming.

The third and forth are against your hips, fifth and sixth hitting just above your knees.

You lose count after that, mind numb as your wetness pools onto the freshly cleaned comforter. Between your racing heartbeats and the blood in your ears you assumed Wanda had finished with you, but coming to for a breath of fresh air only makes to bring the final blow – this time against your cunt.

With the gag the only sounds that reverberate off the walls come from deep in your chest, screams remnant of a horror experienced from another room. Wanda smiles as she watches you squirm as sparks of pain jump across your center and thighs.

There a few moments of silence as your panting curbs to low breaths, giving you a moment for recovery as your vision clears and the ringing in your ears stops.

It’s only then that Wanda gets up, trailing her fingertips across your sweaty skin as she walks past you.

“C’mon kitten,” she murmurs, stepping out of sight and back towards the chest of toys. “Let me make you feel good…”

Your brow furrows in confusion, pulling weakly at the restraints until you hear a plug being insert into an outlet, and the distinct sound of a long, long cord being unraveled.

The sound of the vibrator makes you groan in anticipation – ecstatic and terrified of how Wanda will use it on you. If she thinks you’ve been good, maybe she’ll be nice – get you off with it pressed against your clit with three of her fingers buried deep inside of you.

Or, if she remains unsatisfied with your performance, she could keep you just on the edge or pushing you over it until your begging meets expectations or she gets bored enough to stop.

As the head is pressed to your clit you nearly scream with relief – the soft vibrations and even softer words hitting you like droplets during the first rainstorm after dry season. It washes over you, coating your skin in delicious relief as your buck your hips and cry out.

Each word, each scream, remains muffled by the sphere in your mouth, but Wanda coos down at you nonetheless.

“Such a pretty little girl you are,” she says, watching you with the same hawkish gaze as before. It feels more reserved, though, as if she was watching over you rather than attempting to pin you down. “Such a pretty little girl for me.”

She climbs over you, then, never letting the toy leave your body as she pulls your head into her lap. Wanda looks down at you as you fall apart, watches you with eagle eyes as you cum.

As the initial waves of pleasure subside, you sigh in relief.

That is, until the head of the toy is pressed to your center once more. The next orgasm, and the one after that, and the one after that and-

They’re nearly painful as they hit you like a spray of bullet, like you’re being tased. You’re crying and doing your best to wail as you writhe around, Wanda cradling your face the entire time.

Your brain is numb when Wanda decides you had enough, whole body limb in her arms when she switches the soaked toy off.

She unties you with quick fingers, allowing you to slump against her as she takes off the rest of the restraints that litter your body.

“Rest up,” she tells you plainly as you nuzzle into her side. “I’m still pissed.”

You smile into the bare skin of her ribs, leaving a small kiss on the warm skin. Despite her tone, you can tell there’s not much behind it – fury that had settled just beneath her skin long dissipated into something she can save for the next time that man dares show his face in her presence.

There’s a pause once you stop adjusting, a heavy beat of silence that neither of you feels a need to fill. It’s a long while before either of you says anything, and even then the words are quite soft-spoken despite the two of you being the only ones in the large house.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Wanda whispers into your hair.

You give a small nod, unable to move because of the soreness attacking each of your muscles. “Yeah,” you mumble, voice equally low. “Yeah. I love you, too. Do you know that?”

Wanda smiles. “Yeah, yeah. I do.”

#roosoldhollywood #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #lukis writes stuff #writing challenge entries

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corpsentry · 4 years ago

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WHEN THE WAR IS OVER AND I AM LYING AMONGST ANGELS, WAITING FOR YOU TO FIND ME: a spoiler-filled addendum

because i buttfucked the timeline harder than nintendo and That’s Mildly Concerning ao3 link

q: what the fuck is this a: this fic is the answer to the question, ‘how can i reconcile the events of breath of the wild and age of calamity into a coherent narrative?’.

q: what the fuck happened a: age of calamity was a dream zelda had while partying in ganon’s apartment for a hundred years.

q: [you point a nerf gun at my head and smash my knees in with a hammer concurrently] what the Fuck happened a: link has a line near the end of chapter one which goes something like ‘my mother used to say dreams are the memories of people from another world’. this is the core concept of the story. while age of calamity is a dream to botw zelda, who saw it unfold over the course of a hundred year nap, it’s also real. in my incredibly fucked up version of things, it happened- just not in the same universe as botw. when botw zelda settled in to drink cheap beer with ganon for a hundred years, her consciousness drifted across time and space to the age of calamity timeline, where she proceeded to live out someone else’s life for a few months. are the other characters in aoc aware of this? link is. at the end of chapter two, when he pleads with zelda to ‘rebuild the old world with [him]’, he falls out of character. he betrays the real purpose of this timeline and his place in it, which is to salvage what botw could not.

q: what the fuck is up with the space-time continuum thing a: inspired by the multiverse theory (note that i know nothing about multiverse theory apart from the fact that there are multiple verses), i decided it would be fun if i added a third dimension to the botw/aoc pair. the inhabitants of this third universe are aware of the existence of multiple worlds. they are also aware of the prophecy of calamity ganon’s return, but for the purpose of this essay it does not matter if calamity ganon will rise in their world. the primary concern of zelda in this third dimension is whether she can engineer a universe where link does not die. as she says in chapter two, there are a thousand possible outcomes, but only two fulfill her requirement: the outcomes that constitute botw and aoc. we can assume she went to enormous lengths to uncover these universes, as described by impa, who says with some disbelief ‘you destroyed the space-time continuum for a boy?’. zelda destroys the space-time continuum. she moves through timeline after timeline, tweaking dialogue and moving the hour-hand ever backwards, and at the end of it all, for all her suffering, what does she actually achieve?

q: okay so what the fuck is up with the scene where link kisses zelda and is like i had a dream where i died and then nothing happens a: first of all, you’ll find this scene near the end of chapter two if you’d like to take a second look at it. as for who exactly this zelda and this link are, it’s unclear. maybe after botw zelda woke up, the original aoc zelda and aoc link lived happily after the war. maybe the zelda in the third dimension missed a positive outcome in her thousand-bullet-pointed list. maybe this, too, is a dream someone had, while lying in a field of flowers somewhere. your call.

q: rabbit???????? a: the story about the rabbit is a framing device. first introduced at the end of chapter one when link tells zelda a story on the bridge at night, it eventually comes to parallel botw zelda’s experiences, but in reverse. the rabbit is happy in her reality. she has a dream where everyone she loves is gone, becomes immersed in it, and is eventually saved by the voice of some-god-or-another. zelda is not particularly happy in her reality (botw). she has a dream where everyone she loves survives, becomes immersed in it, and is pulled out of the dream by some-god-or-another. the important thing to note here is the second rule the rabbit lays out in the story, which is that you, as the dreamer, can’t tell anyone that you’re dreaming. self-awareness is a sin in these lands, but the greater and far worse sin is to attempt to share that self-awareness with someone else. this is why link is so adamant that zelda not finish speaking at the end of chapter two, when ganon is defeated and they are standing on the balcony. he wants her to stay. he’s in love with her. he doesn’t want her dream to end because in a way her dream is his dream too; they want the same things (peace, living champions and family, each other). unfortunately for him, zelda has to leave the aoc world behind, because even a hundred year nap has to end, and so she says what she has to say, she says it feels like she’s dreaming, and she wakes up.

q: please explain, in plain english, whatever the hell goes down in chapter 2. a: chapter one is a relatively straightforward retelling of the first four story chapters in hwaoc. chapter three returns the reader directly to the botw timeline, where link shoots a glowing arrow at ganon’s ass, killing him instantly. chapter two is the glorious fuck that lies in between. in short, it splices the events of aoc and botw together with overlays and meta commentary from the third universe mentioned above, where zelda is trying to engineer a happy ending, and the ambiguous fourth one where link is the one who sees the dream. i made use of several batshit devices here, but the most prominent one is, i hope, the encore. the [ENCORE] is initially used to signal that a scene will be set in the botw timeline. it makes its first appearance before botw zelda and botw link’s journey down from mount lanayru, which, as we know, does not take place in aoc. this is played straight up until the halfway mark or so, at which point i swap out ENCORE for encore and finally ****** (still says encore though). this distinction is lost altogether once impa begins dragging link’s body up to the great plateau. up until now, ENCORE and [these brackets] have been used to distinguish the botw timeline from the aoc one, which is not an encore and is not in [these brackets]. the next segment, concerning the battle on the great plateau, flips them. now impa and co’s funeral procession is ‘real’ and the charge zelda leads to the temple of time is ‘fake’. i wonder why.

q: ‘the lights are BLUE or YELLOW or PINK’. explain. a: what’s a play? a pretense. what does it take to pretend? actors. what is zelda doing? dreaming.

q: fourth wall breaks. explain. a: the interview segments are an homage to the seven thousand articles about age of calamity i read before playing age of calamity because this game was effectively my reason to live for the months of october and november. sooga talks about google maps because he’s dead (possibly dlc?) and dead people have the right to say fuck-all. every device in this story was implemented for a vaguely coherent reason. and then i fucked it up for fun.

q: what is the state of zelda and link’s relationship? a: in the botw timeline i imagine they’re involved with each other even before calamity strikes. in the aoc timeline i imagine they’re working their way towards something, but several important trigger events in botw don’t take place in the aoc timeline and the stakes overall feel significantly lower, so i’d hesitate to say their relationship develops to the same degree it does in the botw timeline. this is all personal conjecture, so you’re free to disagree.

q: why does the last line sound like a hannibal lecter line? a: [dab] god’s plan

q: why does zelda say there are a thousand possible outcomes, and only one where link lived in chapter 3? a: the first rule of time travel: don’t.

this is everything i can think of off the top of my head that might have confused people, but i did unfortunately write this thing so if there’s something else that made you go ‘the fuck?’ please don’t hesitate to drop me an ask or a line in the replies, i’d be happy to help. also, if it isn’t clear as day, i have a lot of fucking feelings about both of these games, so if you want to talk lore, theories, or just miscellaneous zelink fuckery, hit me up. i’ll go sleep now. take care everyone.

#fic blogging #my stuff

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exciting · 4 years ago

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As requested, books / series I read in 2020 in the order I read them, with a few brief thoughts. (This took me a hot second because there are a few and also I moved cities) Should I keep a consistent goodreads? Yes I should but I didn’t think of that at the time, so bone apple teeth & sorry if I offend you abt your faves x

P.S. I can’t figure out how to do a read more on mobile so long post ahead!

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas - This is one of the most vivid published fantasy books I have ever read... I read it twice in rapid succession. The fandom POPS off. I must say I have issues with certain aspects e.g. fae lore completely ignored à la Twilight, all love interests 500+ years old and technically a different species, etc (I’m not going to deconstruct the entire series here but just know that I could... Nesta deserves better)

Cruel Prince by Holly Black - This fucking slaps, HB clearly has done her research, the lore is near immaculate, and it explores the Fae in such a unique way, tying it to the modern world subtly and seamlessly. My only qualm was that the books felt quite short; truly wish there had been more content.

Throne of Glass by Sarah J Maas (6/7) - So basically I read this in one single, hyperfixated fit which meant I literally locked myself in my room for three days straight and read all six books back to back in a row from morning to the wee hours. Which is not to say it was spectacular; although it was a VERY rich world, sometimes it was too much... this felt like 6 stories in one. Ik she was young when she wrote this but it is my humble opinion that SJM needs a better editor & I personally think Rowan is a grade A asshole / straight up abusive (& personally think the ACOTAR Tamlin plot was born from that?). It’s good but not as good as ACOTAR. Skip-read the last book.

Grishaverse (Shadow and Bone) by Leigh Bardugo (3) - This is essential to read before SOC but was very much simply a YA fantasy book, although the world was cool and the way the love plot played out was, imo, a subtle middle finger to the fantasy trope. Felt very much aimed at younger readers though? Really liked the sandwhich structure of the Proluge and Epilogue, especially in #2

Six of Crows series by Leigh Bardugo (2) - INCREDIBLE continuation of Grishaverse, better than the original series by a mile. It has the range, the diversity, the representation (the male lead is a disabled asexual and still the most cunning of the entire cast of characters), the plot is phenomenal, and it manages such a well rounded plot in only two books which means nothing is stretched out or squeezed in more than need be. Deserves all the praise it gets.

King of Scars series by Leigh Bardugo (0.5/1) - Personally I don’t consider this book canon, and while it’s nice to see the rest of Nina’s journey & the world again & everyone else, I don't like it. I will, however, be reading book 2 when it comes out, so shame on me, I suppose.

Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo (1/1) - this was incredibly cool although it went off in a completely different direction than I thought it would based off the first few chapters? One of my favourite YA-author-debuts-New-Adult novels in 2020 though!

Crescent City by Sarah J Maas (1/1) - This was supposed to be SJM/s New Adult debut, although personally I would put her other series in New Adult, and I can’t say a remarkable amount was different with this except they said “fuck” and “ass” a lot. WHY is the romantic interest 500 years old AGAIN. I just... don’t... I just don’t think it was necessary... the world was cool though, and the last half of the book was riveting, but the beginning was quite slow and I thought the sword thing was predictable. I am interested to see where this goes though.

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab (3) - This world is so fucking cool... four Londons aka parallel universes & the one in ‘our’ world is set in industrial era London. Magic, girls dressing up as boys, thieves, pirates, royalty... it all just slaps. Schwab is an incredible writer & I was completely immersed.

Midnight Sun by SMeyer - I didn’t think anything could possibly detract even further from the Twilight story but I was sorely mistaken... seeing the stalking from Edward’s POV - and it was worse than depicted in Twilight, for the record - completely obliterated any sort of romance the first half of the original book may have portrayed. I still hold the opinion that the entire series would have been better if some kind of vampire lore had been abided by, if only to see all of the villains thwarted by someone dropping a bag of rice on the ground, forcing them to have to count them all.

An ember in the Ash by Sabaa Tahir (3/4) - This was just a very stereotypical ya fantasy series, emphasis on the YOUNG... it wasn’t anything to write home about but I remember quite enjoying it at the time.

The Power by Naomi Alderman - This book is FUCKING incredible and EXCEPTIONALLY thought provoking... essentially women alone develop a power of electric shock etc. and then take over the world from men, and it explores feminism and the balance between equality & tipping the scales in the other direction. Written by a friend of M.Atwood in a similar tone to handmaids tale, I would say? Content warning; there are some exceptionally graphic scenes in the latter half of the novel.

Hamlet by Wllm Shksp - I can’t believe it took me this long to finally read it but Ophelia is my favourite name in the entire world & we love to see a woman go batshit (although she didn’t deserve that).

Catherine House by Elisabeth Thomas - this was unsettling in the best sense of the word... it was a little slow & honestly more of a concept than a big reveal, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I finished it? A Secret History vibes but make it blurry like the memory of all those dystopian novels you read when you were young?

The Invisible Life of Addie La Rue by V.E. Schwab - This is without a doubt my book of the year, and probably the best book I read in 2020? I stayed up all night on a friend’s couch reading it, got a book hangover and reread the ending, and then thrust it upon my mother who doesn’t usually read but read this, and loved it just as much. HIGHLY recommend and you HAVE to read it, it’s beautiful and endearing and just plain wonderful.

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat (3/3) - I went into this knowing it was going to be terrible, because I had received a blow by blow telling me as much; although I must say that it did learn a remarkable amount of new words, the books did get better as the series went on, and it did have a rather charming ending? BIG content warning for almost everything.

Sapiens by Yuval Harari - mind-expanding & must recommend for everyone, there is everything in this and I daresay everyone should posses this kind of knowledge? I listened to it as an audiobook (which I recommend because it’s rather hearty) but will be buying this in hardcopy & rereading it with annotations.

Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller - Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful novels I have ever read, and certainly the most beautiful portrayal of the story of Achilles and the battle of Troy I have ever seen. Patroclus deserved the justice that was given to him in this book; indeed, all of the characters were written with justice and grace. Highly recommend.

Trials of Apollo by Rick Riordan (3/5) - Apollo is my favourite Greek God, and the sexiest greek god, and Rick Riordan’s writing slaps, as always. It did pain me to see Apollo, the sexy immortal, have to be forced back into a 16 year old’s body but everything else? Whimsical & wonderful, as expected.

These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong - a retelling of Romeo and Juliette, except it’s set in Shanghai in the 1920′s, and the protagonists already have a history. Very well done, characters are incredibly diverse in race, sexual orientation, gender, and ability / disability (and honestly, representation has never appeared so effortless and elegant). Also it includes a monster and possible magic. Incredibly underrated and highly recommend.

The Once and Future Witches by Alix. E Harrow - this was such a unique concept, and truly captivating, the story was charming, and felt like the kind of beautiful fairytale you would read as children but with more grit? ABSOLUTELY recommend this one

The Pisces by Melissa Broder - I hated this so much, not my vibe at all. Mermaid smut x therapy but make it cynical and judgemental (I know there was a moral in there but that’s not my point) also the dog dies.

Library of the Unwritten by A.J. Hackwith (1/2) - really interesting & unique concept (all unwritten novels / ideas reside in a special library that is part of Hell and then sometimes the books can come to life) however, my first thought upon reading this was “this reads as if it’s stemmed from one of those writing prompt tumblr posts” bc of the tone and whatever and as it turns out I was somewhat correct, it did stem from a short story (not bad just obvious). It did kind of settle down as it went on but I found reading it kind of a drag, and I don’t think I will read the second one.

Abandon by Meg Cabot - 1. Meg Cabot’s writing always fucking slaps 2. Hades and Persephone but make it modern & very 2000′s & somehow kind of unique 3. I literally loved this, sue me

Medusa Girls (Sweet Venom) by Tera Childs - Like Percy Jackson except they are descendants of Medusa so they are Gorgons and have fangs & venom (hence the title). Gave me very 2000′s vibes? Quite cool but tbh I found the books quite short (like two hours each, if that)? Do NOT read the GoodReads description of the book before you read it, you will spoil it for yourself.

Bring me their Hearts by Sara Wolf - In my opinion, this is one of the most underrated YA series I read in 2020. The heroine is endearing, self aware, witty, and loves to look pretty even while kicking ass which in my opinion is an incredibly underrated trait. Also, immortality without being hundreds of years old? VERY sexy. HIGHLY recommend.

A Deal with the Elf King by Elise Kova - High commendation to be given for the fact that it is a standalone and yet manages to fit in the plot of what would usually be a full fantasy trilogy without cutting corners or being a million miles long? Also sweet storyline & beautiful ending? If you liked ACOTAR you should read this as a “what would have / could have been had SJM had a different editor” (No shade I promise).

The Iron Fae by Julie Kagawa (4/4 + novellas) - Incredibly detailed faerie set around the modern world & our current use of technology & iron in it. Very neat adventure-style series, by the time I read the last novella I was well and truly done with the world (aka provided enough content to be fulfilling). Was definitely aimed at a younger audience though, NO smut / smut was brushed over.

The Modern Faerie Tales by Holly Black (3/3 SS) - This is technically the prequel to Cruel prince, set in the modern world, but with the fae world inside it as it traditional? All I have to say is that it is excellent & I highly recommend it.

Bridgerton series (The Duke and I) by Julia Quinn (9/9) - I read this after watching the Netflix show twice through and I am obsessed, although the books were not quite as elegant as the show, and some parts that made me cringe either by their portrayal (it is very firmly set in the 19th century and thus some things are not handled with tact or grace), the characters were exceptionally loveable and I am so excited to see where the show takes them! Lovely language & an abundance of words I had never seen before (always a plus).

#the number of these which I hate with a passion now #fuck my life #HATE SJM #MAD about grishaverse #ASHAMED of bridgerton and the feminism leeched from my soul after reading this

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