#tumblr I hate you so much WHAT is with the giant e

[fishtank32]

Please expect a serious slow down of my posting, especially fanart or drawings. I'll be getting a second job soon so I'll be busy every weekend from now on + plus my school is starting next month.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

UGH! I’ve pulled a stupid! I posted on Facebook!

TBH, I normally ignore Facebook. I never post there, and find the place depresses me.

Of course, I still get e-mails from them, and recently had people I know from the “real” world want to friend me. So I did. But I hadn’t read any of their posts. Friending was just being polite, really.

Now, I still get tons of those “so and so has made a post” click to read e-mails, but I long ago ignored them too. They were teases just to get you to go on Facebook, only to read a comment a “friend” made on someone you don’t know’s post three weeks ago that consists of “Awwww”. Nothing to bother about.

So I dunno, why did I click through today? Stupidity.

Look, I know many, many people around me voted for Trump, including some I am real world friendly with. I expected that. But good grief, I did NOT expect to see post election some of them HATING in Harris voters still. In fact one woman said that women that voted for Harris, and wear blue bracelets to protest Trump, shouldn’t be allowed to ever vote again! They won AND they are carrying a grudge.

I’ve been depressed and stressed lately, maybe that made me more vulnerable to giving in to grumpiness.

I made a post. A rambling, venting, long winded, not thought through, off the top of my head, post.

Sure, I do that sort of thing every time I post on Tumblr, but what’s the worst that happens here? People I don’t know unfollow me and, and maybe I have to shut down asks for a little while.

Facebook? These are real world people I know, mostly from this same small town (at least originally), where everyone knows or is related to everyone else….

Basically, I have just taken a microphone attached to giant speakers and started shouting off the porch in town! LOL

Oh well. I’ve never been really considered part of the community. It’s not like you can lose friends you don’t have. So how much worse can things get…

Ummm….don’t answer that.

[acourtofthought]

Have you been shipping Elucien since the beginning (ACOWAR, since ACOMAF didn’t really have them interact except at the end)?

I didn't ship Elucien at first.

Not that I was against them. When they were made mates then we got Lucien's POV and later Elain invited him back to Velaris, I was fine with where the story was headed.

But then it looked like things took a turn in a different direction in ACOFAS and I was ok with that too. I was just going whatever way I thought the author was pointing me in me because I wasn't invested in anyone beyond Rhys and Feyre. Really, I've never been one to ship a couple outside the endgame couple (to this day, I will always be 100% fine that Ron and Hermione ended up together and have never imagined her with Draco or Harry) so it's not often that I want to see a couple get together unless it's the authors intended plan.

I also never thought that there could be things going on in the story beyond what the author was telling us so when SJM had a character say one thing, I assumed that's all there was to it. I never realized she placed messages within messages and had little hints scattered all over. I never realized that two characters could be talking about one character and what they're talking about would be important down the road, but for an entirely different character than the one they were originally talking about.

So I went into SF assuming that she decided against Elucien and was going the route of E/riel. As soon as I read the Bonus Chapter, I remember thinking, "that doesn't sound good". 😂 I couldn't understand it because it did feel like she decided on E/riel but all of a sudden Az was coming across as a loose canon who wasn't interested in Elain for the right reasons.

Still, I didn't feel that strongly about who Elain was going to be with until I joined the FB fandom and saw all the Elain slander. I saw the mentions of how she could never end up with Az because she wasn't good enough for him, how she was definitely evil because his shadows hid from her but not Gwyn, how Gwyn was brave for leaving the library after two years while Elain was a giant crybaby for mourning Graysen and the loss of her humanity for 2 months. How it was ridiculous that Nesta wanted to protect Elain but it was so sweet how Nesta felt protective of Gwyn. How Gwyn standing up to Nesta and demanding she treat her like a person was amazing but Elain standing up to Nesta made her a bitch. How Elain's gardening was pathetic but Gwyns bracelet making was adorable. I remember getting into some pretty intense arguments with Gwynriels and I set out to prove that Elain was good enough to end up with Az and the Bonus Chapter didn't mean E/riel was over.

Again, it's not that I even cared about E/riel so much as I hated seeing some tear apart Elain while raving over Gwyn even though their characters weren't that drastically different.

I started deep diving into the books and I joined Tumblr to keep a record of my thoughts. But what ended up happening is I started to realize how poorly matched Elain and Az are. It's not that Elain isn't good enough for Az; if anything both Gwyn and Elain are too good for Az right now. And both Elain and Lucien became my absolute favorites, even more than Feysand. Their personalities became more rich each time I read over their scenes and I completely understood how their mating bond took SJM by surprise. SJM was happily writing Lucien while Elain was a world away, them being together not a thought in her mind yet there were parallels even then. And I could see all the fun little hints that SJM planted once she did realize they'd be mates, things I never noticed the first time around. Lucien taking those first steps towards Elain before she was turned, Elain finally coming out of her comatose state within days of Lucien's arrival. Her never leaving her room until the day he ended up in the library. Her saying she needed sunshine before SJM dropped the Helion is Lucien's baby daddy bomb, the fact that while SJM has Feyre talk about E/riel being mates, the personalities of Rhys's parents (who had an ill suited bond) are identical to those of Elain and Az. And if someone pays any attention to SJMs books they realize that just because an Archeron pushes her mate away, there is still an extremely good chance they're ending up together regardless of how impossible it seems before their book.

Reading back over the series, I was also able to appreciate Gwyn in a way I hadn't before (I think we all understand how certain sides of the fandom can make us dislike certain characters. I have Gwynriel friends who aren't fans of Elain for this very reason). I could see how compatible she and Az seem to be and how their interactions make him so much more likeable than he's been as of late.

As it stands, Elucien is the first couple I've ever truly shipped without knowing if they'll end up together and it's awesome because I'm so excited for their story but it's also frustrating because I hate being kept in suspense and this has been a LONG wait 😂

[eirenical]

twenty questions for fic writers

Was tagged by @elenothar, @kholran, AND @fixaidea to do this meme, so I guess I should do this meme? XD

Where possible when linking fic, I've linked to my tumblr post and not the fic itself, so if you'd like to read the tags/further notes before jumping into the fic, you can. Also because all my fic are locked to users-only on AO3 these days because of AI nonsense. :P

Tagging: @laireshi, @enechelon, @difeisheng, @lizardrosen, @slangerogkatter, @kalypartemis, @dreamer-wisher-liar, @humanlighthouse, @shaish and as always, anyone who sees this and wants to do it. No obligations to participate, just an invitation to join in the fun. ^_^

How many works do you have on AO3?

171 works. And I have some from ff.net that I still haven't migrated over yet.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,415,465

...holy fuck, you guys. O_O

3. What fandoms do you write for?

*sobs in 'i've barely written anything this year'*

Actively (and I use the word loosely) I write for Mysterious Lotus Casebook, DMBJ, Granting You a Dreamlike Life, Guardian, and I'm dabbling around in South Wind Knows at the moment.

The rest of my responses behind a cut. ^_^

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Center Cannot Hold… But It Can Change (Rise of the Guardians (2012)) (3,649 words)

beyond the end of the story (镇魂 | Guardian (TV 2018)) (5,988 words) -- this story has a lovely podfic by @flamingwell, too, that I would heartily recommend.

Legacies Lost (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV)) (41,962 words)

When Is a Curse Not a Curse? When It Becomes a Gift. (盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV)) (16,289 words) -- this story also has an incredible podfic, this time by @thelaithlyworm.

All of the Above and Much More Besides (Les Misérables - All Media Types) (12,007 words)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I used to respond to every single comment. Then I had a bad exchange where I just did NOT get to respond to comments because my life kind of... exploded. And then I felt so guilty for not responding to those amazing comments, that it built a giant wall of awful for me in front of "responding to comments." So now I really, really do my best, but sometimes I just can't. And it bothers me kind of a lot. *sigh*

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think that honor goes to I Have Come To Sleep With You (warning: MCD) -- a fic that should have been a Barricade Day fic but somehow wasn't... which probably explains why it's the fic with the angstiest ending XD

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Four blocks from the barricade, Feuilly finally stopped his headlong flight, arrested by a shortness of breath from a wound left behind by a bullet that had had his own name written upon it… and by a query so softly voiced that he almost believed he had imagined it until he heard it again.

"You are bleeding." A short pause. "I believe you are wounded, my friend." Another pause. A wet laugh. "You and I are a matched set, I fear. Come. Sit with me, awhile. Rest. You are always racing about. A force not to be--" A harsh cough. "--stopped. It is why Enjolras admires you so."

I think most of my fic have happy endings? It's rare that I truly leave one sad. And I'm not sure how to judge which one is the happiest.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Thank goodness, no. Not usually. Though I have gotten a few insensitive comments or comments that made me uncomfortable before.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

^________^

Boy, do I. ;D

Of my 171 fic posted on AO3, 44 of them are rated M or E. And I'm not sure how to discuss what kind, but it's mostly M/M and a not insignificant number of them are tagged noncon and dead dove, so, that probably means something. ^_~

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have written both crossovers and fusions. But if we're going with the classic definition of crossover (as in a story where characters from both canons interact), then probably my "craziest" one would be this one:

Five Times That Berger Saw Him, which is a Hair - MacDermot/Rado/Ragni x Eloise at the Plaza (Movies) crossover that grew out of the fact that Gavin Creel played both Claude in the 2009 Broadway Revival of Hair and Bill in the Eloise movies.

Major Character Death, Homelessness, Mistaken Identity, Romance, Grief

The first time Berger saw him it was Spring, and he was certain that he was having a flashback.

Only because tonally the canons are VERY different.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To the best of my knowledge, no?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A few of my Hair fic were translated, and I think one or two others, but I'm blanking on which.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Twice, both of which are unfinished and one of which was not published. One was from way back in my Sailor Moon days in college and was written with one of my college roommates. It's still up on my website, if you go look. ;D The other is a Guardian fic that I was co-writing with @elenothar, but we've both kind of wandered out of Guardian fandom for now. I have hopes that someday we'll come back to it because I really like the idea, still, but only time will tell. ^_^

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I honestly don't think I could pick a favorite. O_o;;; Especially as almost every single ship I've loved has been one I've eventually grown tired of. My current favorite is definitely Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua, but I don't think I have an all-time favorite.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

...................TNTC. But I never say never on a WiP, so who knows? ^_^

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I'm good at getting character voices down in narratives? Like, that when I write a character it sounds like them? I hope that's true. ^_^

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action/fight scenes. OTZ I've been working at them, but they're still hard for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It was ALL THE RAGE in anime fandom when I came up through it like... 25 years ago. Fanon Japanese was EVERYWHERE. And then it became very cringe to do that. Now... I don't know. There are some words/concepts that REALLY don't translate without a full author's note. And there are modes of address that don't translate and thus I prefer to see in their original language. But full dialogue in another language without a translation available can be an accessibility issue? So if you're going to do it, I think a translation should be provided somewhere, like in hover notes or a glossary or a parenthetical or something? IDK. I still don't really have a clear opinion on it, tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first fandom I wrote for that I KNEW I was writing for was Sailor Moon. But I was making up stories for characters in shows I loved (and often acting them out, either alone or with friends) since I was VERY young. If that counts, then it was probably Smurfs? XD

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I was going to say I don't know, but I just realized I DO know.

It's Composite Events, hands down. ^_^

It's almost 60,000 words worth of DMBJ x Dollhouse fusion fic and to this day is one of the only fic that I had mostly outlined before I wrote it, even though I VASTLY underestimated how many words it would take to write. XD Please heed the tags on that one if you're going to go down that road, though. It's fairly dark and consent issues are a running thread throughout.

Once upon a time, Wu Xie fell in love with a man who wasn’t real. The man who wasn’t real loved Wu Xie in return, and in so doing, became just as real as he was. But being real comes with dangers of its own, and those dangers could destroy everything they both hold dear.

Special mentions go to:

Muet, Les Miserables, modern AU -- this is definitely another 'heed the tags' situation... for pretty much the same reasons. XD

In a world where the government controls even thoughts, free speech is a luxury few can afford. Les Amis de l'ABC believe it should not be a luxury so much as a right, and those in power will do whatever they must – will destroy whoever they must – to silence them for good. When Enjolras is the one to fall prey to their machinations, Les Amis are left reeling and without a leader. R couldn’t care less about that. He just wants his partner back.

Legacies Lost, The Untamed, canon divergence AU

Sixteen years ago, the Yiling Patriarch died, a victim to his own hubris and the Yin Tiger Seal. Hundreds of cultivators from many different sects died with him that day, their souls forever doomed to find no rest, even in death. On this, the 16th anniversary of the battle of Qiongqi Pass, Jin Ling is determined to make pilgrimage, to try to put the spirit of his long-lost father to rest. He finds much more than he bargained for, and what he finds… will change everything.

Lightning in a Bottle, Mysterious Lotus Casebook, pre-canon

You’re 15 years old and you hear his name for the first time. He defeated the demon of the Blood Realm, they say. A prodigy. The fastest sword in the jianghu. The promise of your generation fulfilled. A hero.You have no use for heroes.

When Is a Curse Not a Curse? When It Becomes a Gift.; The Lost Tomb Reboot, post-canon

...and I'm sure I'll think of a million others that I should have mentioned, too, as soon as I post this. OTZ

It started, for once, with Wu Xie being just a hair faster to react than anyone else.Wu Xie had seen Xiaoge across the room, eyes wide, breath catching, pulling his fingers from the delicate door mechanism they’d been exploring, gathering himself to run, to intercede, to take on the consequences of Wu Xie’s actions, like he always did…  Maybe it was the lingering effects of the golden water.  Maybe it was pure dumb luck.  Whatever it was, Wu Xie beat Xiaoge to it, blocking everyone else from the puff of some ancient dust trap which then hit him full in the face.Dimly, somewhere beyond his struggling lungs, Wu Xie could hear people calling his name, voices raised in desperation and fear.

Wu Xie has often wondered what goes on in the mind of their Menyouping.  Thanks to an accident in a tomb, he’s about to find out… and get a lot more than he bargained for.

[dangermousie]

Rereading Yuwu just makes me want to scream about Murong Lian!

The rest is behind read more since I don’t want to spoil for @aysekira (god I wish tumblr would have LJ’s spoiler feature.)

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One of the reasons I love Murong Lian and his narrative so much isn’t just the reveals (the moment where Gu Mang is taken for experimentation and Murong Lian is running frantically trying to stop it is one of my favorite moments in the whole book because I went “wait a minute isn’t he a spoiled aristocrat who hates Gu Mang…oh…oh…OH! And on this reread it is so obvious he’s orchestrated the whole mystery solving contest with Gu Mang as a prize just so he could get Gu Mang into Mo Xi’s house to ensure the lagger’s safety and well-being without getting the emperor’s attention) or even the fact that the narrative reminds us that one doesn’t have to be a nice person to be heroic (Murong Lian is vain and vengeful and ruthless as fuck, he’s also a big damn hero. Some of his methods are pretty brutal - he puts Gu Mang into a brothel to be abused in large part because hey it’s the one place even the emperor can’t touch and would allow Murong Lian to keep his cover - but he is equally brutal to himself - knowingly taking addictive deadly drug for years, knowingly slowly killing himself, to keep suspicion from the emperor away from himself and continue to work to bring him down.)

No, I think what really hits me in his story is the theme that we are shaped by our parents but we are not doomed to be what they want us to be. Nor are we defined by our childhood. Murong Lian was a monster child who grew up into a heroic (if fucked up) adult who overcame societal expectations for him but also his mother’s never ending poison being poured into his ears. His very ending - running a school for everyone of capability, happily living with his half-brother and said half-brother’s boyfriend, is a giant fuck you to his mother, and the best part is he doesn’t even mean it as that.  (The fact that three people who for different reasons do not have family end up as family for each other is A+++. Also, it’s the only one of hers where the ending isn’t just OTP by themselves which is interesting.)

I love the message that you can overcome darkness in your past or expectations and just do your own thing.

(Also, the emperor must have gotten recessive Murong genes because Murong Lian, Gu Mang and Mengze, the Murong offspring, are all fucking terrifyingly smart and playing 4d chess the whole time while the emperor is only doing 3.5d.)

[quickdeaths]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER. ( REPOST DO NOT REBLOG ! )

✿ NAME: Bryn

✿ PRONOUNS: she/her

✿ PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Discord! My # is available to mutuals always! Besides that, tumblr IM is fine but certainly not my long-term preference.

✿ NAME OF MUSE(S): So many @_@ go check em out quickdeaths.tumblr.com/muses

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?): So, I started out doing RP as a little baby child in 2006, initially moved over to tumblr in 2011, and then made the blog that ultimately bound me to this curséd site forever in 2015, and have been here ever since.

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED: Oh dear so many. Well, I started out on good old giant in the playground freeform RP. I stopped into Gaia for like a cup of coffee around a similar time. Somewhat adjacent to that, or slightly after, I did some stuff on LiveJournal, and then eventually migrated to tumblr in 2011. Since then, I have occasionally done stuff on Discord, and Google Docs. I might be forgetting one or two, but this should be adequate proof that I have been doing this too long haha.

✿ BEST EXPERIENCE: Too many! Meeting my bestie for life @dilffactory Ben and meeting my girlfriend have to both be at the top. Super long-running stuff with @dcviated and my friend Chey (who has mostly RP-retired) are also both up there too.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: I try not to have too many of these! That said, I am sensitive to people ONLY wanting my canon characters, and also people who seem to want to collect partners (ship or otherwise) for status rather than actually write with them. I'm a person, not a pokemon!

✿ FLUFF, ANGST OR SMUT: Ehehe... well... it's probably angst. I like fluffy stuff too, so a good mix (but perhaps slightly more on the angsty side given the choice) is best, especially if there's a plot through-line that flows through the whole thing. Smut is very much a sometimes food for me. I'm not super confident in writing it, and the one time I was more willing to write it openly I had a very Yikes experience. I'm never saying No to the idea in abstract, but there are a lot of things to go over before it gets to that point.

✿ PLOTS OR MEMES: Plots!!! I don't particularly like IC memes as a way to thread in the first place, although I understand that's how a lot of people here do things, so I put up with it. Plots, meanwhile, make my brain turn into an overworked easy bake oven with steam coming off it and everything, plot with me and I will be your best friend.

✿ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: It depends what one means by "long." Aside from dash commentary stuff and little meme things, I think almost everything I've written is minimum 2-3 paragraphs, and usually double that. I default to like 5ish, although I can absolutely do much more if I feel like my partner also likes that kind of thing and won't find it boring to read, overwhelming, or navel-gazey.

✿ BEST TIME TO WRITE: Evening, usually, just because there's not much else on my plate and everyone else is sleeping haha. I can write whenever though.

✿ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S): I have a lot so it's hard to say! I think whenever you make an OC, you're giving them SOMETHING of yours, and when adapting a canon, there's at least something you resonate with, whether it's something you see in yourself or not. Very tentatively, I might say I'm most like Rio and Kiyomi, but even then I'd say it's less like "we're similar people" and more like "there are a handful of things we have in common," if that makes sense.

Tagged by: Stolen from @moonsmultimusings

Tagging: normally I am big on tagging people so that people feel included but I gotta go play fire emblem so.

If you love fire emblem, consider yourself tagged. If you hate the firéd emblem? you're tagged. if you are indiffferent? t a g g e d. If you have never heard of Lucina from Fire Emblem Awakening (who doesn't know Lucina?), you KNOW you are tagged.

[cyber-therian]

A: around i like to say 13 ish years ago. i was probably 3-5 years old.

B: no, not really. i am reclusive regardless of my therianthropy and i have sensory issues so i avoid certain things; not related to being alterhuman though. the only troubles it causes is dysphoria.

C: technically yes, but Canadian cities are often full of trees and nature; at least the one i live in, which is literally inside of a giant forest biome. foxes live where i live—they live almost anywhere—so in theory i would be able to thrive without nature, however i prefer not to.

D: not really, i have a daily journal but nothing exclusive.

E: i think its good and safe for the most part. i prefer to stay within the tumblr community rather than tiktok/yt because it seems that there are people closer to my age and more educated here.

F: not on purpose, i accidentally showed my friend an animal jam pack i was in that dealt with therianthropy. i told my brother i was a therian as well.

G: yes! 2 masks and a tail. the masks were made by me and i commissioned the tail off of an etsy seller.

(no H?)

I: i am a silver fox therian and a medieval knight archetrope & ockin

J: i am quite sensitive and so i do usually take myself seriously, as it has helped me be more honest with myself. however i will sometimes joke about it.

K: id like to say possibly 7, however alterhumanity is so subjective that i cant possibly be as educated on it as i think i am.

L: im confused by this question; foxes arent my favourite animal if that is what you mean. i do however adore medieval aesthetics and knights.

(no M?)

N: traditionally foxes are wild animals, however there have been attempts at domestication.

O: yes, as of right now i identify as lion(ess), caribou, and dino-hearted

P: i hate this question, it doesn’t matter. the labels of “popular” and “rare” dont benefit us, they only bring insecurity and feelings of invalidation.

(no Q?)

R: i experience both species & gender dysphoria. as much as i want to enjoy my body it is fundamentally misaligned.

S: my knight type is a binary cis male, my fox type is a cis binary male salmacian, i am a transgender salmacian binary male

T: my biggest trait is parenting. i have extreme urges to carry, nurse, and protect fox kits. i also get high prey drive despite being vegetarian.

U: i have a lot of control in physically managing my urges, but mentally it is more difficult. they can be disturbing but i suffer from paranoid and intrusive thoughts as is, so it just adds more to that.

(no V?)

W:

(no X?)

Y: the tail that i own is made from yarn, i would always opt for it.

Z: im not educated enough on the topic to have a logical answer, however from my gut reaction i do not like them. i dont need to go to a zoo to see my type, at least the ones i currently know about.

Alterhuman alphabet!

(feel free to copy, paste, fill in and credit me!)

A - awakening

When did you realise you are an alterhuman? At what age, how long ago?

B - balance

Does your identity affect your social life (school, work, ect.)? Does it cause troubles or not?

C - city

Do you live in a city? If yes, is it hard for you to be away from nature? Does your therio/kintype even need nature?

D - diary

Do you have a diary about your alterhuman experiences? If not, do you want to start one?

E - experience in the community

What is your experience and thoughts about the alterhuman community?

F - friends

Have you told your friends about your identity?

G - gear

Do you have any gear? If yes, is it handmade or bought?

I - identity

What is (are) your therio/kintype(s)?

J - jokes

Do you like to make little jokes about your identity or is it rather serious for you?

K - knowldege

In scale of 1-10, how big do you think your knowldege about alterhumans is? Are you new to this topic?

L - liking, loving

Do you like your therio/kintype(s)? Do you love or dislike it/them?

N - nature

Does your therio/kintype live in the wild, or rather not? (E.g. it's a house pet, or it's a robot.)

O - otherhearted

Are you also otherhearted? If yes, what is your kithtype(s)?

P - popularity

Is your therio/kintype "popular" or is it rather rare?

R - real body

Do you feel good about your psychical body? Do you experience gender dysphoria?

S - sex

Dies therio/kintype have a different sex than you?

T - traits

What are your alterhuman traits? (E.g. a need to hunt, bark, ect.)

Urges

If you have a theriotype, are you good at controlling your animalistic urges? Do they bother you?

W - wondering

How do you think you would look like, if you could psychically shapeshift into your therio/kintype? (Describe or put an inage here!)

Y - yarn

If you wanted ti buy/make a tail, would it be real fur or fake/yarn fur?

Z - zoo

How do you feel about zoos (a place, not z00philes)? Are they good or bad in your opinion? Do you want to go there to meet your theriotype (if you are a therian).

___________

That's all! Bye!🍄

[enbylesbianism]

How ‘IRON WIDOW’ by Xiran Jay Zhao changed my reading experience

I’ll be straightforward: I’m in love with ‘Iron Widow’ since *checks notes* May, when I read it, and it’s now my life’s purpose to make everyone else as in love with it as I am. 

First of all, I’d like to say that I don’t usually consume media with sci-fi aspects, action, mecha suits, that kind of thing. I was a follower of Xiran and watched their videos analysing Asian (and Asian-inspired) media, such as Mulan, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, Netflix’s Over The Moon etc. I also happen to find Xiran’s voice very soothing, so there’s that. So, when they mentioned that they were writing a book, I was interested, especially putting that it was polyamory and a historical reimagining. When I got around to requesting the publishers (thank you so much, Penguin Teen Canada!) for an ARC and reading it... well, it was just game changing. 

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to read a book with a love triangle that doesn’t end up with all of them in love with each other again. Of course, as a polyamory person, I’d already considered that as an option and I’d already asked (more like begged, actually) for more media with this concept, but I hadn’t actually seen it until now (I am going to need Tracy Deonn to follow in Xiran’s footsteps and make BreeSelNick endgame, by the way). I had considered it an option before, but since I’d never seen it happen, I unconsciously made myself believe that such a thing wasn’t allowed. ‘Iron Widow’ was here to tell me that it doesn’t matter if it’s allowed, because you can take it. I exist, and seeing myself represented is something I can claim as mine.

Another thing this book delivered flawlessly was unhinged women. The internet keeps talking about people written by men or by women, but I’m here for something else: people written by Xiran Jay Zhao. Wu Zetian wields her rage fearlessly, she’s shady and ruthless. Her moral compass is messy. I’ve waited for a character like her my whole life, but hadn’t known it until she’d been given to me on a silver platter. No, it’s better than that: given to me on a document sent to my e-mail, then to my Kindle, like most delightful things are. 

Not only did Xiran give me Wu Zetian, though, but on my Kindle silver platter, there was also Gao Yizhi and Li Shimin, her outstanding love interests. While Li Shimin fits the tormented bad boy criteria (but better, because that’s just what Xiran does, makes good things better), Gao Yizhi would fit the rich good boy one (yes, eat-the-rich-romantically trope!). But while he is kind and nice, we’re led to believe that there is something dark in him, though maybe his morals aren’t as messy as Zetian’s. Their dynamic can probably be described as Bonnie, Clyde, and their househusband. Perfection, truly. 

The plot is also marvellous, including the oppression at the core of the system, how dirty the powerful people play to get what they want, as well as realistic plot twists. Something I liked, too, was the way Xiran Jay Zhao dealt with the action in the book: I’m usually not all for action-packed books, but the way Xiran did it pulled me in. It’s intense and involves a lot of emotion, something that usually lacks action scenes (one of the reasons why I don’t like them all that much). 

The way trauma is handled in ‘Iron Widow’ is spectacular, too. There are all sorts of these included, from family trauma to ones caused by alcoholism (I’d disclose more on that, but I’m not sure how spoilery that would be), and it doesn’t show only the “pretty” part of it: we get to see the anger that’s so often played in a way as to make the traumatised person feel guilty and the lashing out. 

Besides, ‘Iron Widow’ has everything: hate-to-love? Yup. Friends to lovers? Absolutely! Fake dating/arranged marriage? You bet! Overthrowing the government? 100% yes! That’s basically the plot of the book. Femme fatale trope where a character seduces, then kills a man? Again, that’s basically the (initial) plot. Forbidden/secret relationship? Lots of it. Morally gray characters? Basically all of them are. Fighting while injured and not 100% healthy yet? Mhm. Intense fights with giant, magic mecha suits inspired by mythology? I got you (Xiran does, actually)! Plot twists? YES! One party of the relationship finding a way to help/save their loved one from a dangerous situation that was almost impossible to do so? Yes!!!! 

If all my gushing wasn’t enough for you to pre-order this book or add it on your TBR, then... get help. But fear not! Becuase I’ll definitely post more about this book! (Maybe not here on Tumblr, but I have an account on Twitter 100% dedicated to it, so...) Because I’m obsessed with it! ‘Iron Widow’ releases in NINE DAYS, on September 21st, so make sure to check it out! Or else Wu Zetian won’t come for you! And believe me, you want her to.

[kusagrasskusa]

Michael Myers X Short! Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

I wrote this story on Wattpad (@Red_scarfed_person) and decided to post it here lol. If you saw this on Wattpad and don't believe me, you can go to my page on Wattpad and see that in my Messages, I talk about having a Tumblr account and left my Tumblr username there :)

And rereading my old story scared me. If you're here expecting a violent, fearful story, please don't read this. This is full of the sarcasm someone who lacks sleep can muster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah yes. Y/N's favorite part of the day. Trying to cook. Was that sarcasm? Partially.

Y/N loved cooking; it was so satisfying to see people enjoy her food. But the part she hated was trying to reach the goDDAMN bowls and ingredients from the cabinets. Why did the construction workers have to put them 17 light years high?

Of course, it wasn't the construction workers' fault. It's just that Y/N is the size of a fifth grader. 4'6" tall. What makes it harder to live being so short? Living with someone who's 6'7."

You see, a while ago, there was a certain incident...

A tall male in a white mask and blue jumpsuit, brown hair and blue eyes, found himself in the home of another. He silently panted in his mask, in pain even if he wouldn't show it. Rolling up his sleeves and pulling up the bottom of his shirt, Michael started checking for severe wounds.

"Damn, you're hot..." Some short woman mumbled, turning on the kitchen light. Michael perked up, pulling his shirt back down and reaching for his knife.

"Oh, damn, wrong time to speak up? Sorry," Y/N said, not even knowing if she was being sarcastic in that sentence or not. Mainly since author-san doesn't know if their being sarcastic or not. Anyway--

Michael started walking towards her with the knife, not running since we all know that Michael can walk and still win Olympic runs. Y/N just grabbed a candy bar in her cabinet, opening it and taking a bit.

Michael was confused as hell. As a result, he stopped walking and lowered the knife. "So, you're not gonna kill me? That sucks since my dept is unbelievably high." Michael blinked quickly in confusion, thinking, then it might not be too high with short you are.

Y/N sighed, then gasped. "Oh wait! You're that boogeyman guy who everyone is scared of!" Y/N said with a small smile. She wasn't sadistic or anything, but she was sorta excited to see him.

Michael just stood there, not even knowing how to react for the first time in his life. Y/N then sighed again, throwing away the wrapper to the candy bar and shrugging. "If you decide to kill me later, stab my neck. It's very sensitive. Oh and my room is down the hall, to the left. And my couch is comfortable if you wanna sleep there."

And with those last words, Y/N walked to her room, closing the door behind her and getting it bed. Leaving a confused serial killer.

The next morning, Y/N yawned as she walked out of her bedroom and to the kitchen. Her kitchen and living room was one large room, the kitchen set to the right near the front door, and the living room on the other side of the room.

Between them is a hallway that leads to a bedroom and bathroom. It was a two story house. The top two floors had an office room, another bathroom, and a storage room.

Anyway, Y/N rubbed sleep from her eyes as she walked over to the stove and grabbing a pan. She also pulled out milk, pepper, salt and eggs and set them ok the counter. But now she needed a bowl to even put those in.

Michael heard noise from the kitchen which resulted in him waking up. He slowly sat up on the couch, turning to face Y/N. He got up and walked towards her.

"Why is this so high up," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to reach a bowl from a cabinet. She couldn't even reach the handle on the cabinet. Growling in frustration, Y/N gave into defeat.

But then comes Michael opening the cabinet for her, making her help and turn around. "W-Who the hell are you!" Y/N shrieked, blushing a bit. I mean, here she is, a tiny gal blocked in the corner of the kitchen by a tall, mascular guy.

Memories came flooding back and Y/N remembered who he was. "Ooooh, so you're that boogeyman guy? I remember now...wait... I let a damn serial killer into my house!?" Y/N shrieked again as Michael set down the bowl, turning on the stove.

As Y/N went through her epiphany, Michael actually started to cook. It wasn't until he was done did Y/N snap out of it. He set out two plates and cups, putting the scrambled eggs on them and filling the cups with F/D.

"W-Wait...so you aren't going to kill me? You're really gonna..." Y/N mumbled as Michael grabbed a nearby receipt and pen. He wrote down something, making Y/N shush and lean over at what he's writing.

"My name is Michael. I'm not planning on hurting you anytime soon. What is your name?" it read. Y/N was confused as hell now. Why would he spare her? What is so special about her? I should just be grateful, Y/N thought.

"I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N..." Y/N said, looking up at Michael. She blushed a bit, making eye contact. Michael grabbed a plate and cup and handed it to her, then grabbed his own and sat down at the small diner table. Well, way to go from one thing to another, Y/N thought as she sat down next to him.

As much as it confused her, Y/N still wasn't sure how she was still alive. But she was grateful she was, anyway. She always the tall male attractive, but never had feelings for him until recently.

Even if he'd refuse to get things for her that were high up, give her looks that just screamed out about her being short, and wrote down short on sticky notes and put them everywhere, she fell for him. What a lovely crush.

"Why the hell are the damn cabinets 17 light years high," Y/N growled as she climbed on the counter. Just as she was about to grab a bowl, she yelped when large arms wrapped around her an pulled her down carefully.

"Michael! Hey, let go!" Y/N yelled, trying to be serious despite how much she wanted to smile and laugh. Michael shook his head, hugging her tighter.

Despite how badly be wanted to tease her about her height, he kept quiet of course. He didn't just want a hug, either, he wanted to pull her down so she'd have to struggle to get back on the counter again. As said before, what a lovely crush.

Michael eventually pulled away, taking a couple steps back. Y/N looked over at him with a sour-sweet look, blushing a bit. She crossed her arms, "so, was that all you wanted?" Yeah, is that all you wanted, baka? ≧n≦

Michael shook his head, pointing to the bathroom. Y/N raised a brow. "What?" She asked, thinking for a moment. "You need a towel or something?" Michael then nodded.

Y/N smiled a bit, nodding. She walked to her room, Michael following until they reached the door. Grabbing a towel, Y/N walked back over to him and handed it. "It might be a bit small for a giant such as yourself, but here."

Michael nodded, then walked towards the bathroom and went inside. Y/N smiled a bit, thinking to herself about what he'd look like once he got out. It made her cheeks heat up and her heart beat a bit faster.

And about 15 minutes later, Y/N was back in the living room, watching TV. "C'mon, Saitama, beat the hell outta them..." Y/N mumbled under her breath, watching an intense fighting scene.

Y/N perked when she heard the bathroom door open and looked over. Long story short about that was happening in her mind: bad idea.

"MMMM-" Y/N screamed muffledly, having covered her mouth with a pillow that moment. Her face was red, blushing hard from the sight. The towel covered just enough on Michael to where nothing was shown, but he was h o t. Even the scars on him weren't seen as disturbing or anything.

Michael cocked his head, holding his clothes in his hands. He ignored Y/N's reaction to seeing him, since he only cared about his jumpsuit being cleaned. Of course he would act like that--

Y/N, already knowing what Michael wanted, slowly stood up and walked over. She was figitting, clearly still flustered as she grabbed his clothes. "I-I'll just, uh, go wash these..." She mumbled as she walked passed him quickly, to the washing machine and dryer.

Michael blinked a couple times, thinking about the hell he's supposed to where for the time being. Just the towel?

About five minutes passed, Michael was still waiting next to the bathroom for Y/N to come back. He just wanted something to c h a n g e i n t o.

Alas, the moment finally came. Y/N walked back out after almost crying to herself in the laundry room. Typing this out now made me realize I'm making it sound like Y/N was-- well, if you know, you know. But no, that wasn't happening. Our child, Y/N, was just flustered, ok? Yes, our child. I care about you so much reader and I love your OC even though idfk what they look like. They're a beautiful specimen. :):):):):):) Anyway, back to the story.

"H-Hey," Y/N stuttered as she walked out, waving as Michael. Michael, who kept his mask on by the way, just rolled his eyes from inside the mask, handing her a piece of paper. It said that he needed a change of clothes, to which Y/N just chuckled about. "I-I mean...Do you reallllyyy? Can't you just stick with that? You don't look too bad in it, heh heh."

Michael have her a dull look from under his mask, making Y/N sigh. "Fine, whatever. But let's be honest, I'm not gonna have anything that fits you. You should just stick with that," she said, shrugging and pretending to calm about seeing him like that. She was clearly in a flirty mood, which she sometimes gets like when she wants to annoy Michael.

He likes to out sticky notes everywhere with the word short on it, pull her off counters so she has a harder time getting stuff from cabinets, and put his hand above her head as if he was saying, "You're not tall enough to do ____." So it's only normal she would flirt to get him back. But mayyybe acting like that isn't a good decision on her part.

Michael sighed silently, grabbing Y/N"s wrist softly. "Wha--" Y/N cut herself off when Michael pulled her close, leaning down to get his face close to her's. Then, for the very first time in years, Michael spoke.

"Whatever makes you happier~" Michael whispered in her ear; his voice was low and husky. Y/N turned red immediately, incapable of even coming up with a response. Hold on- a tall, mysterious guy with a good figure pulled me close and now can speak, in a hot goddamn voice at that, Y/N thought.

Michael caressed her cheek, pulling away. Y/N had her mouth slightly parted, her eyes widened. "Yo...You can..." Y/N stuttered, not even able to come up with a sentence. So instead, she just nodded slowly, slowly walking into her room and gesturing for him to follow. Michael smiled proudly under his mask, following her.

Yes, what he did was small but Y/N was the kind of person to be a bit extra about these things. Of course it affected her. Anyway, about five minutes later, Y/N couldn't find anything for him to wear other than a large hoodie and very oversized sweatpants she got from a Plot Convenience Sale, which was kinda tight for him. But at least she had a use for the sweatpants, since that was kinda just in her closet.

Y/N took a deep breath once Michael was done changing, coming out of her room. Of course, she left the room when he got changed so don't think dirty, precious readers. Y/N looked over, smiling a bit with heated cheeks at Michael. The small moment from earlier was still bothering her.

"Does it fit?" she asked, raising a brow. Michael nodded, putting his hands in the hoodie pockets. "That's good," Y/N mumbled, staring at the ground awkwardly. A couple moments of silence later, Michael smiled from under his mask, taking it off while Y/N was too busy being lost in a daydream to notice.

"Thank you," Michael whispered as her kissed her forehead, making Y/N flinch. Because Michael appears to be as fast as light, he was already putting his mask on by the time Y/N looked up. Her face was red again, but even worse than before.

"M-Michael, did you just--" Michael was already walking away, brushing her off. "Hey, listen to me!" Y/N yelled as she caught up to him. Like hell that was going to be a one time thing, Y/N thought. I'm going to see his face eventually, she promised herself.

[ithoughtghostsjustfloatedaway]

YO ‼️‼️‼️ you got any family hcs for the neibolt kids :] like post reddie Reunification 👀 simply bc they are adorable and I love them

aaa hello!! sorry it’s taken me a minute to get to this, this week’s been v busy. but!! i have some hcs! i’ve been thinking about these for the past lil bit, & there’s probably more but! for now i have this list of random hcs!

Family/Neibolt Girls HCs!

•Eddie & Richie would 100% be learning sign language as soon as they reunite. they want to do all they can to understand & communicate with N!Richie better.

•& Neddie would join them in learning too bc she saw how happy other people speaking ASL with her made Richie & she wants her to be happy

•i feel like N!Richie would want to go to school. like, she’s read/seen lots about it & she’s just so curious about what it is & all the things she could learn there (think Luca).

•Neddie could care less about school. she has 0 interest in going, but she would only go to protect her Richie.

•tho I don’t think Eddie thinks it’s a good idea to send the girls to school. bc of Eddie’s goo & Richie’s sewn mouth & maggots,,, she’s not not sure the school system would allow it/what they’d think of it

•so maybe her & Richie homeschool the girls! Neddie hates it, but N!Richie loves learning about anything the Adults will tell her about. and maybe they make lil trips to museums & other places so the girls can learn more.

•Neddie would have a Tumblr. that’s it.

•random one but I feel like N!Richie would hum to herself. Like, nothing in particular, she would just make small humming noises every once in a while bc that’s pretty much the only verbal thing she can do.

•she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it, it’s just a mindless thing she does

•the girls have a bunk bed, but more often than not Neddie either sleeps on the floor or creeps her way down to the bottom bunk to sleep with her Richie

•Neddie hates to admit that she loves giant stuffed animals, like the ones you’d find/win at a carnival. she just thinks they’re neat.

•on the contrary, N!Richie prefers small stuffed animals but she has a t o n

•at Halloween time, Eddie & Richie try to take the girls to an “haunted” abandoned house attraction (like at a theme park or something) & they both refuse to go inside bc it reminds them of 29 Neibolt

•Neddie will literally growl at anybody who looks at her Richie even the l i t t l e s t bit wrong

•Neddie has attempted to dye her hair herself multiple times

•(Eddie caught her every time & Neddie’s still salty about it)

•but one time she lets Richie helps her! neither of them know what they’re doing but Richie watched exactly half of a (5 minute long) YouTube video so she’s qualified

•they dip-dye it blue, so Neddie can decide if she likes it enough to add more next time

•Neddie thinks it’s so cool & now she wants to dye it every color

•(she thinks she’ll try pink next, not because she necessarily likes it, but bc it reminds her of her Richie)

•Neddie & (adult) Richie love to recreate memes/vines together

•N!Richie loves mini backpacks/purses bc look at all the things she can put in there!

•she has a little collection of things that fascinate her. it has items such as a rubix cube, crayons, safety pins, etc.

•the girls are actually very good & fun babysitters! specifically to Stan & Patty’s baby (they have a baby fight me). Richie tries to teach the baby some ASL bc they can’t talk & she wants the baby to be able to communicate (she doesn’t realize it’s just not old enough to speak yet), & she just likes to watch the baby do whatever bc it fascinates her what the baby likes. Neddie is more chaotic (obviously) & doesn’t mind if the baby spits up or screams (she thinks it’s funny), but she’s also surprisingly good at making the baby calm down when it starts crying. no one understands Neddie’s secret, Neddie doesn’t even really understand herself, but she’s just able to make the baby feel safe and loved. (& ya know, that probably makes Neddie cry herself bc she hasn’t felt that before & now she has a family & her & Richie are s a f e & she’s actually h a p p y)

•Eddie & Richie don’t get many nights out bc they don’t trust the girls home by themselves

•well, Eddie doesn’t. Richie thinks they’ll be fineeeee but Eddie’s not risking it

•so they only go out when the girls have been really good/they’ve all been on good terms, or when another Loser(s) visit/when they visit other Loser(s).

•Richie sometimes let’s the girls style her hair & pick out her outfits

•even tho they all fight a lot, Richie & Eddie are actually really good moms/mom figures! they care for the girls so much, & the girls love them sm too (tho Neddie refuses to admit it). they’re all just one big (mostly) happy family & they own my heart i love the Tozier-Kaspbraks

[millionsknives]

ever since you said “the intersection of fantasy and horror” I have not had a moment’s peace, i need your hottest takes/playlists/moodboards on the intersection of fantasy and horror

i wrote a whole essay and then tumblr ate it so here is attempt number two, probably angrier and more nonsensical than the original

first of all if your fantasy story isn’t even a little bit scary you’ve already lost me and what’s the point. secondly im not talking about grimdark fantasy because i hate that, nobody wants you here. the horror genre does not automatically mean tragedy, moral decline, crapsack worlds, etc. horror as a genre is home to some of the most hopeful and loving stories the world has seen (i. e. train to busan). what im really getting at is like… you know how the x-files blurs the border between sci-fi and horror? it’s like that but with fantasy instead of sci-fi. over the garden wall might qualify as an example. certain things that appeal to me about the fantasy genre (worldbuilding, the hero’s journey, narrative structures) are notably weak in the horror genre. not all horror stories would be better with exposition and world building because sometimes that’s The Point, but sometimes i wanna see more narrative cohesion and well-thought-out concepts in my horror movies. high fantasy also tends to be light on thriller/psychological aspects and i wanna see more of that integrated into the genre.

i also love to see fantasy concepts taken to their horrific extremes (like bloodbending and airbending suffocation in atla/lok) but there’s often so much that is left unexplored for the audience’s sake (like what if a waterbender pulled the blood outside someone’s body. like a raisin. anyway.) fma on the whole isn’t particularly horrific, but it does have good elements of horror like the nina tucker episode, envy’s body horror, the not-trisha corpse, etc. snk has some of that grimdark vibe that i hate but you can’t deny it’s horrific fantasy (or maybe fantastic horror) at its best (at least it was pre-basement) with horror classics like zombie apocalypse vibes, existential dread, and gore and body horror out the wazoo, combined with fantasy staples like a medieval(?) european(?) setting and ‘knights’ with swords and cloaks on horseback. and like. it shouldn’t work but it does

i would be remiss not to mention deltora quest, my first kidlit fantasy love and home to physical monstrous horrors like giant insectoid desert creatures that have multiple stomachs hanging like grapes off their bodies, and a ghastly carnivorous slug inhabiting a maze of half-flooded caves, to psychological and body horrors like your friend ripping off half your face trying to save you from a bird-headed cult mask that is fusing to your skin and a wicked character plot twist that puts the top 10 anime betrayals to miserable shame. nobody did it like ms. rodda (and her illustrator mr. mcbride) and i owe everything to them and these sick cover illustrations

i love magic and monsters but not in a clean sterile generic tolkien-ripoff fantasy sense where the monsters are just designed to look cool and nobody suffers psych damage for the horrors they’ve witnessed on their quests. i want the fantasy stories that i consume to freak me out. i was reading this stuff at age 7 and gobbling it up and obsessed w these book covers and i think it explains a lot abt the way that i am as an adult

as for horrific fantasy in my own work, here's a pinterest board for a project i started a couple years back (think spirited away meets ringu meets otgw) and here's the (very short) playlist for said project. spk actually has horror elements too, but i’ve kept the information about the inclusion of human sacrifice and demonic entities to a minimum because i don’t want to scare off readers and i want the horror to have a bigger impact when it does show up in the story.

fantasy can be very well thought-out but very bland. horror can be all shock value and no substance. i think if you combine the best elements of each into one, you can create a really monumental and fascinating place in storytelling, especially if you can craft a tale where the horror means something and is worth enduring for the sake of hope. horrific fantasy/fantastic horror is a concept that i have only recently realized that i enjoyed and i haven't put a ton of thought into it so this is probably not my best writing or even the best examples of what im getting at but uhhhhhhhhhhh thanks for coming to my ted talk

[jamesmaddiscnx]

Tyrone Mings one where he takes you to meet his teammates and they make fun of the height difference between the two of you and his soft Tyrone becomes around you and you start to tease him to thank you xxx

request prompt: tyrone takes you to meet his teammates who make fun of the height difference between you both and how soft he is around you.

word count: 395

warnings: none

category: fluffy

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Meeting the teammates was almost as terrifying as the parents. Almost. But not quite as terrifying.

You knew of Tyrone’s teammates but had yet to meet them. You had watched the team play numerous times on the TV and so you knew their names, what they looked like and you had heard plenty stories from Tyrone himself but still, you were scared that they would end up hating you.

Tyrone thought that it was silly how nervous you were but he also found it to be sweet and endearing. He loved how much the opinion of his friends and his team meant to you. It showed him just how much you cared about your relationship.

The team were having a celebratory meal since they had had yet another great season in the top flight of English football and plus ones were more than welcome which was great for you because you didn’t want to show up uninvited, even if Tyrone had said that it was okay.

Walking into the venue, you could feel your nerves rising from your stomach, automatically making you feel nauseous. You swallowed your nerves and proceeded to walk through the doorway with Tyrone, who, being well over six foot, towered over you.

The introductions to the team were warm and you became well acquainted with the captain, Jack Grealish and his sidekick, John McGinn in addition to some of Tyrone’s defensive partners, most notably Matty Cash, Ezri Konsa and the goalkeeper, Emi Martínez.

They all loved you, thinking that you really brought out the best in one of their star defenders. They loved your sense of humour and the way that you always found comfort in the soft giant beside you.

As the two of you stood up to leave, Jack and John burst out laughing. Tears surfaced in their eyes, their faces turned a bright red and the sounds of their laughs echoing throughout the room.

"The height difference!" They both uttered out in between breaths and as they said it, a few of the other players started to laugh too. Matty Cash stood up from his seat and stood beside you. He was another six footer and he realised just how small you actually were. Resting his arm on your head, you joined in with the team, not being able to control the giggles that escaped your mouth.

You had been so nervous and it was all for nothing.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

hey! this would have been published a lot sooner (if we ignore the fact that i went mia for a few months) but this literally disappeared from my laptop and was only available on the app? tumblr has been very strange for me recently but it's here now and that's all that matters! i had to include that little bit with matty because he has my heart. it's unhealthy how much i love him. lots of love, e x

tags: @harrywinksyx @kingkepa @glam-khal @alexajanecollins @kierantierncy

(if you want added to my tag list, just leave a comment below and as always, my requests are open!)

[littlestarofthewest]

Santa’s Little Helper

This was supposed to be a Christmas present for the lovely @verai-marcel​, but tumblr fucked me over and didn’t post it. I’m sorry, dear. Please accept a veeery belated Merry Christmas ❤️️ It was hard to write something for the person who already wrote everything, but I did my best :)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female reader | Words: 2674 | Rating: Explicit!!!

Summary: You hate working at the mall as an elf. At least until a new Santa comes around.

You have to dig deep into your closet for your costume. You remember exactly how you tossed it in there last year, fed up from hanging around the mall wearing a stupid get up and a fake smile.

Every year, you tell yourself that you'll do better and won't have to do this anymore, but your year has been shitty, and while you hate being an elf, it's a steady gig with good pay. 

After changing in the staff room at the mall, you head out to assist the others in setting up Santa's workshop. Without customers around, you can hold on to the rest of your dignity for now.

Santa's little helpers are a combination of a few new people and some regulars like you. They happily welcome you back, lifting your spirits a little. While decorating the giant slide, you overhear them talking about the new Santa. The old one went into retirement last year, making him the second one you saw come and go. It makes you curious how the new guy is going to be. 

He shows up about half an hour later in full costume. The black belt digs deep into his full belly, a fake white beard hanging over it. The big boots make a heavy sound as he walks, the bobble on his cap swaying back and forth. 

He exchanges a few words with the mall's manager before he walks over with purpose in his stride. It makes you confident that he's not a drunk or otherwise abuses substances that will hinder his performance. There's nothing worse than having to constantly supervise Santa, so he doesn't scare off the children.

He greets the other elves and helps with a few last-minute preparations. You're battling an oversized candy cane that's about to topple over and bury you when a huge hand grabs its top, holding it in place. New Santa is standing next to you, so close that you catch a glimpse at his piercing blue eyes. 

"Careful," he says, his voice a deep rumble.

"Thank you," you say, tying down the rope that holds the candy cane in place. "I feared that one of these monstrosities might finally get me."

"You've done this before, huh?"

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, but you do your best to act calm. "A couple of times. You?"

"Me, too. Just not at this scale," New Santa says, looking around. "Usually, I go from door to door in small towns."

"Why the change then?"

"I just moved here, closer to my brother. My sister in law has a baby on the way, and I'm planning on helping out. Chances are she'll kill my brother otherwise."

"Sounds like a lot of responsibility."

"I'm Santa," he says with a laugh, clapping his huge belly. "I think I can manage."

"Let's see how you handle the mall crowd first," you say in a teasing tone.

He sizes you up for a moment, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "You're going to help me?"

"It's my job," you laugh, "like, literally."

New Santa smiles, holding out his hand. "I'm Arthur, by the way."

You tell him your name while shaking his hand, warmth spreading up your arm and to your chest. There's something so very different about this Santa compared to the others. It's going to be interesting to work with him.

-----

Since you've started working with Arthur, a miracle has happened. For the first time, you're actually enjoying the job. Arthur's great with the kids and endlessly patient even with the most pretentious parents. He doesn't take their shit, but he always finds a way to defuse the situation. 

The breaks with Arthur are nice as well. He's quiet, but when you find the right topic, he's easy to talk to. Over time, you go from joking over teasing to right out hazing each other. If you're honest, it sometimes even feels a little bit like flirting. Still, you try not to read too much into it. The days of working with him are numbered, after all.

After one horrible shift where a kid is dead set on ripping off Arthur's beard, and another one vomits all over his shoes, you tell him to clear out. You and the other elves clean up, and when you finally enter the locker room, it's quiet. At first, you think you're on your own, but then you turn the corner, finding another co-worker half-hidden in his locker.

"What a night, huh?" you say, making him aware that you're here.

"You can say that again," he says, the voice sending the usual shiver down your spine. Arthur appears from inside the locker, smiling at you. "Thanks for cleaning up. I'll help out tomorrow."

You wish you could say anything, but you're too distracted by Arthur's appearance. It only occurs to you now that you've never seen him without the costume before. Without the fake beard, there's still a nice stubble shadowing his chin and cheeks. The huge Santa belly makes way for a nice little tummy that you wouldn't mind kissing, especially to get to whatever's hidden under the tight jeans Arthur's wearing.

"You alright?" Arthur asks, honest concern on his face, so you decide to tell the truth.

"I just realized I've never seen you without the costume. You're not really old and fat."

Arthur laughs, clapping his stomach. "I'm getting there, especially with the holidays coming up."

"Is your partner a good cook?" you ask, hating yourself a second later, but Arthur shrugs before pulling a shirt over his head.

"Nah, I'm single," he says, sitting down to put on his shoes. "Just got a bunch of friends who drown me in holiday treats."

"Not the worst way to go," you say, and Arthur laughs.

"You're right. I really can't complain." He picks up his bag but leans against his locker, obviously in no rush. "How about you? Any plans for the holidays?"

"The usual," you say with a shrug. "Eating, drinking, and staying in bed as much as possible."

"That sounds great," Arthur says, and the way he looks at you makes you feel like you're in a heap of trouble.

-------

"I can't get you all in the frame like this. Move closer together, people," the photographer says.

It's your last day on the job, and the manager insists on an annual picture of the Christmas Crew. You shuffle closer to your co-workers, but the photographer still isn't satisfied. He alternates between checking his camera and barking instructions.

"You there, stand behind the slide. You three on the side, get on the ground in front. And you, you can sit on Santa's lap."

With horror, you realize that the last order is directed at you. When you don't move, the photographer clicks his tongue with annoyance. "Go on, dear. I'm sure he doesn't mind. It's in his job description."

You throw a questioning look at Arthur, and when he gives you a little wave, the photographer claps his hands. "See? Now, the two of you, up here."

He keeps giving orders while you settle down on Arthur's lap, trying your hardest not to put any weight on him. That works for about a minute, but the photographer keeps giving orders, and you fear your legs might cramp up.

"I'm not going to break, you know?" Arthur whispers behind you, and you move around a bit to get in a better position.

It's not so much about not hurting Arthur but more about not embarrassing yourself. You had a crush on Arthur from the start, but ever since you've seen him out of costume, it's been way worse. You've been thinking about him a lot, and he even showed up in your dreams. Being close to Arthur is dangerous. It wouldn't be the first time you did something foolish because of a guy.

The photographer keeps rearranging people, giving you ample time to notice how good Arthur smells and how hot his body feels against your own. It makes you tingly all over to think about certain things you could do together. Without meaning to, you move around even more until you hear Arthur's breath hitch behind you.

You're about to ask if he's alright, but then you feel something pressing up against your ass, and a wave of heat rushes through your body. Arthur tries to shift his weight under you, but then the photographer finally seems satisfied.

"Alright, nobody move!" he instructs before diving behind his camera. "Big smiles!"

You do your best to force a smile on your face while you still feel Arthur pressing hard against you. The photographer lets all of you make faces or wave, every second of it seeming like hours. You wish you could say that it didn't affect you, but the thought of Arthur's dick merely a few layers of clothing away from your pussy gets you all worked up.

Thoughts of you together rush through your head, and you can't help but move a little, making Arthur groan behind you. You wish you could just turn around and make things interesting, but instead, you jump up the second the photographer releases you.

You still feel hot all over by the time you arrive at your locker, and you busy yourself with your phone, not wanting to change now with other people still around. 

This morning, you even thought about asking Arthur for his number, so you wouldn't lose track of him, but that's out of the question now. You just hope he's not one to harbor a grudge in case you both end up working here next year.

"Hey," a deep voice says next to you, and you jump in surprise.

Arthur's standing at the far end of the row of lockers, fidgeting with his hands. "We're the last ones here, but I can leave as well if that makes you uncomfortable."

You didn't notice that everybody left already, but you don't mind at all. This gives you a chance to apologize. "No, it's alright."

"I just wanted to apologize for what happened out there," Arthur says. "It's just that you're so goddamn sexy, especially in that stupid costume, and you were sitting right there-"

You can't believe what you're hearing, but Arthur stops himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm not trying to make excuses. I'm just very sorry for what happened, and I hope we can just forget about it."

"Don't worry about it, Arthur. I'm not uncomfortable, and you did nothing wrong," you say, trying to reassure him. "I would be happy to ride on your lap any time."

"Oh, okay. Good," Arthur says, a nervous smile dancing around his lips. "Have a good evening then."

He disappears behind the lockers, and you lean back against your own, swallowing a sigh. You can't believe you said something so stupid. Arthur's a sweetheart, and you totally blew it.

You open your locker to get out your clothes when Arthur rounds the corner. "You said 'ride,'" he says, "not 'sit' on my lap but 'ride.' Did you mean like-?"

He doesn't finish the sentence, but you can't help yourself. "Like sex, yes."

You both stare at each other, and you're about to apologize, but then Arthur moves. A second later, your hands are in his hair, and he cups your face in his hands as you kiss. You end up pressed against your locker, you and Arthur both ready to devour each other. Still, he manages to move a few inches away, both of you breathing heavily. 

"Is that okay?" Arthur asks in between breaths. "Do you want to-?"

"God yes," you say, cutting him off to pull him in for another kiss.

Your permission seems to hit a switch inside of Arthur. He picks you up, and you end up on the next durable surface, Arthur's hands roaming all over you. You reach down to lift his shirt over his head, and while he opens the buttons on your blouse, you run your hands over his chest and stomach.

As soon as you're out of your blouse, Arthur kisses along your neck, down to your breasts. Your fingers dig into the skin on his shoulders as he teases your nipples with his tongue, both of you not wasting any time. When Arthur runs his fingers up your thigh, you pull up your skirt and spread your legs. 

Arthur simply pushes your underwear aside to tease your pussy, and you're getting so wet that you can think about nothing else but getting off as hard and fast as possible. You open up Arthur's pants, his low curse when you pull out his dick, giving you way more satisfaction than it should.

Grabbing your legs, Arthur pulls you closer, and you can't help a little cry when he pushes into you. It's been a while since you've been with someone, and with the way this is going, you won't last long. 

You put your arms around Arthur's neck, and he lifts you up a little. It's not exactly riding him, but you roll your hips to welcome each of his thrusts, both of you moaning and panting.

It feels so good; you wish you could drag it out, but the way Arthur's holding you in place to have his way with you already got you going, and then Arthur does the worst thing he can do.

He's holding on to your hair, his lips right by your ear, whispering between eager breaths. "Dammit, you feel so good. I dreamed about this."

Arthur talking right into your ear feels like someone poured honey all over you, a nice glaze soon covering every inch of your body. You pull him closer, doing your best to get as much friction as possible.

"Jesus, sweetheart, you're killing me here," Arthur groans, sending you right over the edge.

Your muscles clench around him as you come, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. He doesn't move until you relax and your breathing evens out a little. Still, you feel how Arthur is, so you roll your hips, drawing more curses from him.

"Come on, Santa," you whisper in his ear, "let your little elf please you."

Arthur groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he buries himself inside you with short, hard thrusts. With eager moans, he picks up the pace, and although he seems like he might explode any second, he manages to kiss you in such a tender way that you feel like melting.

Finally, Arthur pushes deep into you, and this time he stays there until he comes, the tension slowly fading from his body. While he's focused on breathing, you scratch his back and stroke a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

Arthur looks up to you with a thankful expression, and you smile. "This morning, I thought about asking for your number."

"I guess we rushed way past that," Arthur says with a laugh, but then he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and hands you a small piece of paper. I usually start with coffee - not this."

You kiss him one more time before you part to get dressed. "I wouldn't mind coffee."

Arthur runs a hand through his hair. "I've got some great coffee at home."

"Do tell," you say, acting nonplussed as you get your things out of your locker.

"Remember what you said about not getting out of bed, just relaxing?" Arthur asks. "I have a nice bottle of wine I could never finish by myself."

The mere thought of spending more time with Arthur makes you all tingly, and you turn around to look at him. "Did you borrow that suit, or do you take it home with you?"

Arthur grins. "Really? Santa?"

"Probably not every Santa," you say, running your hands over his chest before kissing him again, "but I like this one."

-------

For the next two days, you and Arthur only leave his bed when you absolutely have to.

[gusu-emilu]

seven nights to turn (3/4)

chapter three: turn

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Jiang Cheng counts the passage of time by nights, not days. He’s spending the next seven in a cabin on the fringe of the Cloud Recesses. On the first night, he hears humming.

Rated E, Post-Canon, Mentioned Canonical Violence & Character Deaths, Grief/Trauma, Panic Attacks, but finally some bonding time

<< Ch. 1 | < Ch. 2

read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning’s eyes are still fixed on the spot on the floor where the brush had landed. “That’s a—that’s what the Lan use to clean their guqins,” he says.

“I know what it is.” Jiang Cheng staggers to his feet, his back aching from being shoved to the floor.

“Why do you have it?”

Jiang Cheng considers storming out the door and not looking back, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“For…” Wen Ning furrows his brow, like this is the most perplexing situation he’s ever encountered. “For Hanguang-Jun?”

If only Wen Ning had assumed the brush was for someone else, some random Lan disciple, or one of the juniors—hell, even Lan Qiren would do—because letting Wen Ning think that he bought a guqin brush for that stuck-up asshole Lan Wangji is not allowable.

���It’s for Lan Sizhui.” Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Wei Wuxian asked me to buy it.”

Wen Ning shakes his head. “No, A-Yuan just got a new brush recently. All Wei-gongzi needs to buy for him is cleaning oil.”

Jiang Cheng is beginning to feel like a caged animal.

Wen Ning takes an awkward step toward him. “Did you leave that bottle of oil outside A-Yuan’s door?”

“How do you know about that?”

He shrugs. “I saw it there.”

It’s a good thing that Wen Ning didn’t light a lamp in the room, because Jiang Cheng’s cheeks are starting to burn. Hopefully the blue moonlight doesn’t reveal any color in his face.

“Why didn’t you leave the brush there, too?”

Before Jiang Cheng knows what he’s doing, as if something outside himself is puppeteering his limbs and forcing him to speak, he walks up to Wen Ning and holds out the brush. “You give it to him.”

Wen Ning stares at it, his lips parted.

“Take it.”

He carefully lifts the brush from Jiang Cheng’s hand, making sure not to touch his skin, and continues to stare at it, studying its red handle. “These colors…A-Yuan can’t use this when other people are around.”

Jiang Cheng wants to bite his own lip open. He’s humiliated himself with yet another useless gift.

“Fine, then. It’s not like you appreciated the other things I gave you,” he says before he can stop himself.

Startled, Wen Ning tightens his grip around the brush. Then he murmurs, “Gave me?” His eyes widen. “The tea…talismans…”

Jiang Cheng’s gut plummets with panic.

“I’ve—I’ve—” Wen Ning stammers. “I’m sorry.”

“The hell are you apologizing for now?”

“You really were just trying to be kind, and in return I’ve…harmed you.”

“You didn’t harm me!” More heat rises in him at the suggestion that Wen Ning somehow hurt him—especially because in a way, it’s true. “And I wasn’t—I wasn’t ‘trying’ to be anything! It’s just, if you were going to hum outside my door every night, you should’ve at least done something to make it sound good!”

Wen Ning gives a sad, thoughtful look. The face of a corpse shouldn’t be this expressive. “I’ve disturbed your sleep.”

“I don’t sleep anyway!” He immediately clamps his mouth shut. He didn’t mean to say that.

Wen Ning seems to contemplate this for a moment. “I don’t either.” He walks away to find a place to set down the brush, his back turned to Jiang Cheng.

An excellent opportunity for Jiang Cheng to slip away.

He doesn’t.

He can’t push it down anymore. He can’t not admit it to himself.

There is something about Wen Ning that keeps Jiang Cheng rooted in place, waiting. A sense of Wen Ning’s potential to both heal and destroy him. A feeling that they share some of the same miseries. A hope to set one thing right out of the mistakes he made in the past.

The moment that Wen Ning protected Jin Ling from Baxia—his body bent over and strained, his teeth bared in a grimace, the skin of his palm slicing open under the blade as he held it back—Jiang Cheng’s entire perception of him flipped.

He can’t hate someone who is the reason Jin Ling is still alive.

Could Lan Sizhui be the key to changing how Wen Ning sees him?

A brush and a bottle of oil are nothing, pitiful gifts if they count as gifts at all, but Wen Ning seems like the type of person who would gaze in wonder if you gave him a pinecone and said it was because it looked pretty.

Could this sudden softening of Wen Ning’s demeanor be from Jiang Cheng’s show of care, however small, for Lan Sizhui?

How much more could he change how Wen Ning saw him if he actually did something worthwhile?

Dread rises in him at the thought. Somehow the idea of undeserved forgiveness from Wen Ning is more frightening than his wrath.

His thoughts break when Wen Ning returns to stand in front of him, his expression much softer than before. “Thank you. A-Yuan will like the brush.” He tugs at his sleeves. “I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I just—I thought you would have understood.”

“The brush was just a random color.”

“No, not that—I mean, that too—but I…I mean, the other things.”

“I don’t have time to listen to you speak in riddles,” Jiang Cheng says despite the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he has nowhere to be. “Say it clearly.”

“Well, first—"

“It doesn’t need a preamble.”

Wen Ning’s expression darkens. “First, I don’t like to be called a Wen-dog.”

Jiang Cheng feels a pang in his chest. “I…I didn’t mean that anyway.”

Wen Ning nods, but he doesn’t seem exactly happy. Perhaps Jiang Cheng had snapped at him too much.

“Your humming…” Jiang Cheng looks away. “I didn’t mean that either. It’s fine. It could be better. But it’s fine.”

“Really?” Wen Ning sounds genuinely surprised. Then, more quietly: “I really had thought you would’ve understood.”

“Understood what?”

“Now that you know.”

“You—" He stops himself, takes a moment to sap some of the impatience from his voice. “Just get to the point.”

Wen Ning frowns. His voice is a low murmur, rough with the same imperfections as his humming. “I’ve always wondered what it might be like to be more human again. When Wei-gongzi returned from his travels, I asked him to help fix a few things about me. The first thing he worked on was my voice, so I could hum and sing.”

Jiang Cheng shifts his feet, waiting for him to continue.

Wen Ning looks out the window. “I’m very grateful for it. Wei-gongzi was happy too. After that he came up with more plans, more ways to help me. I thought that it would make me feel better.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t. Already the next day, I didn’t want it anymore. It just made me think of...” He trails off, then collects himself. “I’ve been experimented on enough already.”

Jinlintai.

What had it been like, those sixteen years Wen Ning was locked in Jinlintai?

Something claws up inside Jiang Cheng, and he realizes that it’s…protectiveness. “What did they do to you?”

“I don’t really remember.”

“That’s…good.”

Jiang Cheng had been tortured at the hands of the Wen, and that had only been for a night. He still dreams about it sometimes, the sting of the discipline whip on his back, the horror of his parents’ bodies bloody and lifeless on the ground, the iron grip that seemed to rip his core right out of him. He can’t imagine remembering years of agony like that. To have that pain forever weighing on his mind.

“I didn’t want Wei-gongzi’s help anymore,” Wen Ning says. “But I didn’t know how to tell him.” Apparently that’s the end of the story, because he meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but be reminded of the golden core transfer.

He has been changed. Been experimented on.

The realization hits him, and his heart sinks. Wen Ning had expected him to know how it feels to be broken and fixed. To know the conflicting feelings of gratitude and inadequacy and guilt that resulted from it. This was why Jiang Cheng’s attempt to improve his humming offended him so much—because all his “help” did was tell Wen Ning that he was incomplete.

Of all people, Jiang Cheng should have known.

“I…” He swallows. “I understand.”

Relief appears on Wen Ning’s face. He looks down at his hands. Then, like he doesn’t want Jiang Cheng to hear it, he mumbles, “I’ve been avoiding him.”

That’s a shock.

To his surprise, Jiang Cheng finds himself getting angry on his brother’s behalf. “You shouldn’t do that,” he says. When Wen Ning glances up, confused, he clarifies, “Shouldn’t avoid him.”

“Neither should you.”

Jiang Cheng freezes.

He knows he can’t argue with that, but he tries anyway. “It would be easier for you,” he says, sharper than he means to.

Wen Ning looks him dead in the eyes. “Would it?”

That catches him off guard.

“One thing I do remember from Jinlintai is…” Wen Ning seems to wince as if old wounds are torn open again. “I remember M-Mo Xuanyu.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widen.

“He would talk to me. Sometimes he was even nice to me. But he also had to…had to…”

Now he fully understands.

What must it be like for Wen Ning to see his closest friend return in the body of someone who tortured him? How could he explain this to Wei Wuxian without making him feel guilty about something he couldn’t control?

Wen Ning looks lost in memory. Miserable.

Uncertain of what to say, Jiang Cheng rests his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder.

Wen Ning makes the tiniest gasp and glances down at Jiang Cheng’s hand. Something shifts in his expression—Jiang Cheng can’t tell what—but it’s like a single knot of a giant tangle has come untied.

Jiang Cheng slowly removes his hand. “You shouldn’t have been there in Jinlintai.”

“But I killed so many of their clansmen.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I killed Jin Zixuan.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was by my hand. The resentful energy was mine.”

“You were being controlled!”

Wen Ning draws his lower lip between his teeth. His voice is thick with emotion, like he is afraid of his own words. “I have so much resentment in me.” He looks away suddenly, wrings his hands. “I never wanted to kill Jin Zixuan. I never wanted to kill anybody. But…I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I didn’t like him that much.”

Of course Wen Ning wouldn’t like Jin Zixuan. He was in a position of power, the best candidate to protect the Dafan Wen. He was the favored son of that gilded swine of a man who led the cruelty against them, and he did not prevent it.

“You can’t control whether or not you like someone,” Jiang Cheng says. “I didn’t like him all that much either!”

“But I couldn’t stop myself,” Wen Ning says. “All it took was Wei-gongzi losing control, and I lost control too. And because the resentment was already in me…I killed him. It was me.” He shakes his head. “This is why we can never be even, Jiang Wanyin. You stepped aside when you could have helped, and I—I can’t forgive you for that. But my people were already doomed to die from the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. You didn’t even do anything to directly harm us.

“But I killed with my own hands. Jin Zixuan was never meant to die, and I had the chance to stop it. I didn’t.” He looks at the floor, his lip quivering. “If I hadn’t killed him…Wei-gongzi and Jiejie could’ve lived.”

Jiang Cheng grabs him by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“But—”

“I hate you for it. But I don’t blame you.”

“Then we truly can’t be even, because I still blame you.”

The words are like a punch in the stomach. But what else could he expect?

“Then blame me! Blame me all you want!”

“I don’t want to blame you.”

“Just…” Jiang Cheng lets go of him. “Make up your mind.”

Wen Ning is silent for a few moments. “I’m still worried about something like Qiongqi Path happening again. It almost did, when I was possessed by Baxia.”

“No. You saved Jin Ling.”

Wen Ning doesn’t reply.

Now would be the time for Jiang Cheng to leave, to finally let Wen Ning remain undisturbed. But he stands in place, suddenly calm.

“You said you don’t sleep.” Jiang Cheng tries to make it sound like a question.

“You don’t either?”

“…Not really.”

“I don’t need to sleep, though.”

“Can you?”

Wen Ning’s jaw tightens. “I don’t like to.”

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumb back and forth over the metal coils of Zidian. There are only a few things that could make someone choose not to sleep. “…Dreams?”

The only answer is a telling silence.

Nodding, Jiang Cheng turns toward the door and slides it open. Pauses.

He shuts the door. “If you…if you’re going to be up all night—”

“You can stay.” Wen Ning gestures toward the tea table. “If you want.”

Jiang Cheng chews his lip. He was going to ask Wen Ning to come to his cabin, but…that might be too much to ask for.

They sit.

The air feels slightly warmer, but dense and heavy. Wen Ning rocks back and forth in his seat, staring down at the table, until eventually he stops and there is no movement left in the room.

Anxious to break the stillness, Jiang Cheng pours a cup of tea, but he can’t bring himself to drink it. His eyes wander around the dim room, hunting for a distraction from the heaviness in the air. He nods toward the assortment of plants and cultivation objects on the windowsill. “What’s all that?”

Wen Ning turns toward the window. “Medicinal herbs.”

“Are you the doctor around here or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I’m…I’m trying to recreate some medicines that my sister used to make. A lot of the recipes are missing from her writings.” He looks down at his hands. “A lot of her work has been lost.”

A strange silence settles over them. Jiang Cheng feels a warm pulse from his golden core.

He clears his throat. “It’s uh…it’s a shame.”

Wen Ning thins his lips. Slouches forward.

“Have you made any of the medicines?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“Not quite.”

Jiang Cheng nods. “My…my sister used to write songs. She’d sing them.” He adds, more quietly, “Or hum them.”

Wen Ning’s gaze intensifies.

“She had pages and pages of music in Lotus Pier.” He turns the tea cup back and forth, wearing its bottom into the table. “All burned. She never rewrote them.”

“Do you remember them?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.” Suddenly uncomfortable, he props his elbows on the table and folds his hands in front of his face, studying Wen Ning and wondering how to continue talking. If he should continue talking. He isn’t good at…whatever this is.

But questions are easy enough. Questions are working.

He points toward the window. “What’s the rest of the stuff there? All the spiritual items between the plants.”

Wen Ning hesitates for a moment, then walks over to the windowsill. “They’re mostly things the juniors found on night hunts.” He picks up a dark red gemstone. “This is a garnet stone that helps dissipate negative energies. A-Yuan found it near Qinghe.” He exchanges the stone for a necklace of carved wooden beads. “A-Yuan bought this in a town we visited.” Next he picks up a thin bundle of talismans, and his face lights up. “Wei-gongzi has been teaching A-Yuan how to invent his own talismans, and he wrote these himself. If you light one, it makes sparks that take the shape of an animal and fly through the air.”

He explains more items on the shelf, and although there are one or two “Lan Jingyi”s or “Ouyang Zizhen”s or some name Jiang Cheng doesn’t recognize in the mix, the same refrain comes up over and over: A-Yuan gave me this, A-Yuan bought that, A-Yuan made this, A-Yuan found that.

Apparently once Wen Ning gets on the topic of “A-Yuan,” he doesn’t shut up. Jiang Cheng finds himself reminded of how proud he felt each time A-Ling won a sword fight, or passed an exam, or defeated a beast on a night hunt. The corners of his mouth creep upward.

“And this one—" Wen Ning cuts off and stares at Jiang Cheng like something is wrong with him.

Embarrassed, Jiang Cheng clears the smile from his face. “What?”

Wen Ning stares for a little longer, then glances away. “Um, nothing.”

He doesn’t discuss the few remaining items, instead wordlessly examining the plants. Jiang Cheng finds himself relieved by this choice, as his thoughts of A-Ling disappear, replaced by the memory of a toddler hugging his leg in the Burial Mounds, and suddenly he doesn’t want to hear more about Lan Sizhui.

Although some of A-Ling’s milestones happened out of Jiang Cheng’s sight, he learned of them no less than a day later. Even so, Jiang Cheng still has keepsakes from A-Ling in his bedroom.

But Wen Ning missed everything in Lan Sizhui’s life. Of course he would clutch onto these small trinkets and display them like decorations.

Jiang Cheng rubs his thumbs together. “He’s…he’s a good kid.”

Wen Ning fiddles with the leaves of a plant. “He is.”

For the sake of something to do, Jiang Cheng finishes the tea in his cup. Pours another.

Wen Ning rests his hand on one of the pots on the windowsill. “I just remembered that I need to prune this plant. Is it alright if I—”

“I don’t care.”

Wen Ning carries over the large potted plant, some kind of small bush, and sets it down on the floor next to the table. He brings over shears that are bit too small for his hands and starts cutting away tiny sections of the bush. Jiang Cheng sips tea and listens to the gentle snipping sounds, sometimes watching Wen Ning tend to the plant, sometimes watching the liquid swirl in his cup, sometimes staring at nothing at all. Exhaustion begins to seep into him.

After a while, a faint sound of music reaches Jiang Cheng’s ears.

Humming.

Tension releases from his muscles. The cup feels heavy in his hand.

He must nearly close his eyes, because the humming stops, and Wen Ning murmurs, “I thought you don’t sleep.”

“Mn.” Jiang Cheng blinks a few times and straightens himself up.

He expects Wen Ning to suggest he go back to his own cabin, but instead Wen Ning asks, “Does this…does this help you sleep?”

“No.” He sounds drowsier than he wants to.

Wen Ning resumes his trimming of the plant.

The last thing Jiang Cheng remembers after that is half-walking, half-staggering back to his cabin, a phantomlike pressure steadying him—or perhaps nothing was touching him at all—and then soft blankets surround him as he drifts asleep to the faint melody of humming in the distance.

* * *

He wakes with a jolt.

Groaning. Someone is in pain—

It’s still nighttime. He must not have slept for long. He shoves off the covers and hastens outside, following the gut-wrenching groans until he arrives at the creek where Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui had played music four nights ago.

Wen Ning is on the ground, hunched over at the bank of the creek with his hands in the water. His body is convulsing. Dark, cloudy tendrils snake upward from him.

Resentful energy.

Jiang Cheng runs forward and drops to the ground beside Wen Ning. He grabs him by the shoulders and pulls him away from the water.

“Wen Qionglin!”

Wen Ning almost looks at him, but then his eyes roll back, and he convulses even harder.

Jiang Cheng holds him firm. “Listen to me! Wen Ning!”

He whimpers. The resentful energy surrounding him thickens, reaches toward Jiang Cheng.

“Say something!”

Wen Ning opens and closes his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Jiang Cheng is not the man to help in this situation. When has he ever been able to calm someone down? Wei Wuxian would know what to do—

Should he get Wei Wuxian?

But what could happen if he leaves Wen Ning alone?

He uses strength from his spiritual energy to steady Wen Ning’s convulsions. “I need you to come back! Tell me—”

“Don’t do it…” Wen Ning moans toward some unseen figure, as if trapped in a nightmare.

What could shake Wen Ning back to consciousness? Force him into the present?

The one thing that has grounded Jiang Cheng through the darkest times has been work—the tedium of life, of running his sect, the constant chores and movement. Something to latch onto and distract himself.

The idea doesn’t seem promising, but it’s worth a try.

“Tell me everything you do during a day,” Jiang Cheng says.

“A…a day?” Wen Ning croaks out.

“Just list it for me. List everything you do in the Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Ning doesn’t respond, but the smoke of resentful energy begins to wither, folding in on itself as it floats downward.

“What did you do today?” Jiang Cheng squeezes his shoulders tighter. “What do you need to do tomorrow?”

Wen Ning rocks back and forth. “I—I usually…b-buy things…”

“Good…good...”

“Go on night hunts.” The resentful energy begins to thin.

It’s working. He can’t believe it’s actually working.

“Keep going,” Jiang Cheng searches his face for signs of his awareness returning. “You’re—you’re doing well. Keep listing.”

“I take inventory of m-medical supplies.” Wen Ning’s voice is hoarse, but it’s beginning to sound less pained. “Sometimes I clean them.”

Jiang Cheng loosens his hold on Wen Ning, who has stopped rocking back and forth. “Good…tell me more.”

“Read music books that Hanguang-Jun gave me. Take care of the rabbits on the back hill.” He smiles a bit. “Get chased out of the Main Hall by Lan Qiren.”

He meets Jiang Cheng’s eyes, and the last wisps of resentful energy dissipate.

They stare at each other until Jiang Cheng realizes his hands are still on Wen Ning’s shoulders. He pulls away and stands up. Takes a few steps back and clears his throat.

Wen Ning hangs his head. “Th-Thank you.”

Jiang Cheng nods. Swallows. “You…weren’t kidding when you said you can’t control yourself.”

“I’m not usually like this.” He turns to watch the flow of the creek like he wants to dissolve into it and drift away. “This hasn’t happened to me in a long time.”

“…Why’d it happen now?”

Wen Ning gives a small, rueful smile. “I fell asleep.”

“Your dreams are that bad?”

“I don’t exactly get dreams anymore.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his robe. “They’re more like recurring memories.”

Memories. Those can be much worse than nightmares.

Jiang Cheng feels a sudden urge to lift this burden from Wen Ning. To be a well for Wen Ning to fill with his pain until everything from the past hangs on Jiang Cheng’s heart, not his.

His attempts to give Wen Ning something have been useless.

If Jiang Cheng is stuck forever taking from Wen Ning, he can at least try to take away something that weighs him down.

“Memories of what?”

Wen Ning silently trails his fingers through the creek. There is no sound in the forest except the water’s gentle murmuring as it flows around Wen Ning’s hand.

Just before Jiang Cheng is about to ask again, Wen Ning mumbles, “They made me watch.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Jiang Cheng slowly lowers to sit on the ground a few feet away and waits for him to continue speaking.

Wen Ning starts pulling out blades of grass from the ground, his fingers still wet from the creek and dripping beads of water onto the cold grass like dew. “I had to w-watch when she…when she was...” He trails off.

Jiang Cheng’s chest constricts.

He can’t be talking about what Jiang Cheng thinks he is.

But what else could it be?

By the way Wen Ning’s eyes are filled with pain, Jiang Cheng’s guess cannot be wrong.

Wen Ning was forced to watch Wen Qing be burned at the stake.

The image scorches his mind. Rips at his throat and leaves his voice useless.

He had never been able to bring himself to think about what might have happened to her in Jinlintai. He had seen the Dafan Wen hanging by nooses in a row along the wall of Nightless City, seen Wen Qing’s ashes scattered in the wind, and but to have seen her agony before she fell lifeless—the claws of flames, white skin seared red, spine-chilling screams—

Jiang Cheng had held A-Jie in his arms as she died, but at least she hadn’t screamed. At least she hadn’t writhed in pain. She had just quietly turned cold and motionless…

A soft whimper in front of him, and Jiang Cheng realizes that Wen Ning has started speaking again. He makes noises that don’t sound much like words until finally he whispers, “She never looked at me.”

Jiang Cheng suddenly finds it hard to breathe.

“I…I g-guess she thought that if she didn’t look at me, it wouldn’t hurt me as much. But—” He grips his sleeves tight, stretching the fabric as his hands begin to shake. “But I wanted her to look at me. And now when I sleep, I keep—I keep dreaming about it, but even in the dreams she never…n-never…”

The forest fades away.

A-Jie is limp in Jiang Cheng’s arms.

Bloody. Trembling.

Pulling her hand out of Jiang Cheng’s grasp, reaching one last time for Wei Wuxian.

She never looked at Jiang Cheng while she died.

The nightmare of A-Jie’s death has returned to him over and over, lurking in the depths of his grief and slithering into his dreams on nights he was already close to breaking.

But no matter how many times the nightmare repeats, A-Jie still never looks at him.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes feel like they might be wet, but his body seems separate from himself, distant. He sits closer to Wen Ning without being sure of how he gets there, without fully feeling the sensations of shifting his weight or pressing his hands into the grass or letting his breath become unsteady.

He wonders how Wen Ning was able to fall asleep here. If he does not need to sleep, why would he try, knowing what he would dream about?

But Jiang Cheng does not ask.

As they sit there at the bank of the creek, watching the water trickle along and catch the moonlight, the memories fade as if washed away by the stream. Wen Ning’s presence beside him, steady and motionless and slumped over slightly, is almost…comforting. It’s nice to have someone to sit next to.

His mind wanders to the list of Wen Ning’s daily activities in the Cloud Recesses. Despite all the chores and organizing, his life here sounds peaceful. Relaxed.

But why does Wen Ning only perform the jobs of an errand boy?

Jiang Cheng has seen him on night hunts, seen him step forward from the shadows and instantly eliminate danger with his strength and cleverness. And now Jiang Cheng has also seen the small collection of herbs Wen Ning grows in his cabin and uses to recreate lost medicines.

Yet to the Cloud Recesses, he is just an errand boy.

Doesn’t he have...more to offer than that?

The conversation Jiang Cheng overheard between Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi makes more sense now. Wen Ning acts differently while on night hunts than while in the Cloud Recesses because on night hunts, he is useful. In the Cloud Recesses, what difference is there between him and any ordinary servant?

Especially if Lan Sizhui is always busy training, and Wei Wuxian…he has his own issues to work through with Wei Wuxian.

“Do you want to be here?” Jiang Cheng finds himself asking.

Wen Ning must have been lost in thoughts of his own, because he tenses, startled. “What do you mean?”

“The Cloud Recesses.” He gestures around vaguely. “Where else?”

Wen Ning is slow to answer. “Yes. A-Yuan is here.”

A small bit of jealousy nips at Jiang Cheng, knowing that Wen Ning can live in the same place as the last member of his family. Jiang Cheng does not think he would answer differently himself.

“If you could go somewhere else, where would you go?”

“Tanzhou,” Wen Ning says without hesitation.

Tanzhou. The city south of Yunmeng with all the gardens. A quick glance at the array of herbs on the windowsill is enough to make it obvious that Wen Ning likes plants, but that doesn’t seem like a reason compelling enough for him to be so sure of his destination, as if he has thought about this question daily.

“Why there?”

“I heard that Song-daozhang is staying there for a while. I…I’d like to talk to him.” To talk to someone like me, is what goes unsaid.

A sinking feeling grips Jiang Cheng.

Song Lan would understand Wen Ning much better than Jiang Cheng ever could.

There are probably many others who could understand Wen Ning better. Who could help him heal. Who could give him something.

As soon as Jiang Cheng recognizes the thought in himself, he tries to stamp it away, but it persists. He shoves it down enough to continue speaking. “You should go to Tanzhou before Song Lan leaves.”

“But—"

“Why wouldn’t you?” Jiang Cheng scowls at him. “Don’t tell me you like this white-robed hellhole.”

“But A-Yuan…”

Jiang Cheng sighs. “He’ll be fine without you. He has Wei Wuxian and the entire Lan Clan to look after him.”

His own words nearly make him laugh with spite at himself. Who is he to speak like this? He still stalks A-Ling on night hunts, still worries about him every day, still feels like every moment with A-Ling is not enough, because one day he could be gone.

But a trip away from the Cloud Recesses would be good for Wen Ning. If he has thought so much about meeting Song Lan…he should go.

“It isn’t that far of a journey,” Jiang Cheng says. “You could come back to the Cloud Recesses whenever you’re finished.

Wen Ning tilts his head and stares into the water. “Maybe…maybe I’ll go, then.”

“Stop in Lotus Pier on your way there.”

Wen Ning looks up in shock.

It takes a moment for Jiang Cheng to realize what he said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Heat rises to his face. He stands up, tries to put distance between himself and Wen Ning. He needs to cover for himself—needs an excuse—“Well, look at yourself! You can barely control your resentful energy! You think I’m going to let you pass through Yunmeng unsupervised?”

“I can—I can just travel south of Yunmeng—”

“I’m not letting you pass through the neighboring territories unsupervised either!”

“O-Okay.”

They freeze like that, Jiang Cheng blushing and clenching his fists like an idiot, and Wen Ning sitting on the ground and staring up at him with round eyes.

When Jiang Cheng finally gets his voice to work, it sounds unsure and creaky, like a rusted metal hinge. “Then you’ll come to Lotus Pier with me when I leave tomorrow morning.”

Wen Ning blinks. “Okay.”

“Alright.” Jiang Cheng takes a step back. “I’m—I’m going to my cabin now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“…Y-Yes.”

Jiang Cheng turns and walks up the path until he is out of Wen Ning’s sight, then races to his cabin. He doesn’t slow down until the door is shut behind him, and even then his heart is still pounding.

He mindlessly follows his nighttime routine in an attempt to calm his nerves. His muscles ache when he climbs into bed for another futile attempt at sleep. He has no idea what time it is. Sunrise could be in as soon as an hour, and then he will already be taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He is taking Wen Ning with him to Lotus Pier.

He flips onto his stomach and tries to sink into the mattress, hoping the pressure will stifle the bizarre tingling in his chest. Flips onto his back and rubs between his eyes.

What the hell did I just do?

* * *

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, you can be a supportive sibling like Jiang Yanli by visiting me on AO3!

Ch. 4 >

[pikapikabishes]

It's Okay Now(Kirishima x gn!Reader)

Disclaimer: all characters rightfully belong to their original creators, only thing that is mine is the plot. Also do not copy my writing. Thank you

Summary: Class 3A's Y/n was having a jolly day hanging out with the BakuSquad, including her amazing bf of over 6 months, Eijirou Kirishima, even with all the stress piling up, like a shaken soda bottle ready to burst, until said explosion finally happened. Triggered by the littlest, probably stupidest event

Warnings: anxiety (?), panic attacks, not eating for days, mentions death, suggestive themes, a bit of swearing

Mentions: mental breakdown, overworking oneself, starvation, hyperventilating, ugly crying, kiri being absolutely biggest sweetheart, daddy!Kiri breifly

A/n: this is my first fic on Tumblr so please be nice, and if you enjoyed it, like and comment

Everything hurt. My head, my eyes, my chest, my mind. I don't even know what happened. One minute I'm perfectly fine, having a good time with my friends, the next I'm in this situation.

Im sitting in the middle of my dorm on the floor, crying and sobbing over the smallest thing. I admit being stressed with everything going on in my life; with upcoming school exams , training every single day to improve my ultimate moves, and the biggest clicher... my dad's passing a couple months prior.

This whole time I've just been bottling it all up, trying my hardest to put up a brave front as to not worry my mom, who already has a lot on her plate, my friends and boyfriend, Kirishima. To be frank, I haven't even told my class or Kiri, keeping a bright smile as to not hint them in on my life crashing down around me. Some days are easy to keep up my smile, to let my mind focus on something else, and then there are harder days when everything reminds me of my dad.

I was real close to him, we did a lot of fun stuff together; going to amusement parks, going out to see movies we both were really excited to watch, going out to eat at our favorite restaurants.

It still doesnt feel real after all this time. It felt just like yesterday he was perfectly fine, we were celebrating my grandma's birthday, and literally the next day, I find him stiff and eerily still in his bed. And then everything crashing down on me as the paramedics regretfully tell me that my dad was no longer of this world, when I sob into the phone to my mom that my dad was gone, when I listened to my grandma's wails as my mom told her of her son's passing.

It all felt so surreal, like if I go over to see my grandma at her house, I'll see my dad sitting there in the living room, greeting me with his smile and warm hugs and kisses.

I sob harder as I remember all the times we watched Disney movies and me crying at some scenes as my dad happily comforts me. Buying me a toy from one of the movies I adored at the time. Him gifting me a puppy when he moved into a new neighborhood and I didnt have anyone to play with.

My head's pounding, a deep pressure in my brain, as I clutch tightly to the same doll he bought me all those years ago. My screams silent as I try to keep my classmates from finding me in such a pathetic state and worrying about me, my brain not processing that everyone was still at school. I fought to take control of my emotions again, wanting to be strong for my mom, grandma, and my friends. Unknowning of the pace of my breathing as I desperately tried to grasp my emotions.

My stress and anxiety climbing higher with each panicked breath. All those late nights I stayed up studying as much as I can for the midterm exams, catching up to me. I even forsaken eating as to study so I can at least get a passing grade. And the times I didnt spend studying was spent training to try and get my mind to focus on anything rather than fully face the reality that I no longer live in a world with my dad in it.

When was the last time I had a fulfilling meal? Three days?? And the time before that?? I dont even remember, the pounding in my head preventing me from thinking too much. All I can think about is what caused this stupid meltdown in the first place, my frustrations climbing higher with my stress and anxiety.

~~~

Today was one of those days where it was hard to keep up my smile for people. In an attempt to cheer myself up, I made myself the same lunch my dad and I used to make together for later, excited to eat as this was my first actual meal in days.

As I stroll down the hallways to meet up with Kiri and the rest of the BakuSquad, someone in a rush, bumps into me full force, causing me to fall and drop my lunch on the floor. I only had a moment to grieve as I see my precious lunch splattered all over the floor before the person that bumped into me uttered a measly, rushed "sorry" before hurrying on their way, stepping my lunch in the process.

I stayed there in my position on the floor, looking at my lunch with grief. I know it was stupid to start crying over something that can be replaced with something else that Lunch Rush made, but there the crocodile tears were. My heart and mind had wanted that lunch.

Without thinking I got up and ran out of school and towards the dormitories, deaf to the calls of my fellow 3A classmates and the incoming call on my phone.

~~~

I was brought back to the present by the sound of pounding coming from my dorm door. I was still fighting for control, not able to send a reply without my sobs mixing in with my voice.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through the door. Of course it would be Kiri to be checking up on me. "I tried calling you to see where you were, but you didn't answer. Tsuyu told me she saw you running off upset when I went to go looking for you."

For some reason I sobbed harder, barely able to keep quiet.

"Princess/Prince, please tell me what's wrong, I'm getting really worried."

He stayed quiet for a moment, anxiously waiting for my response. And of course my body betrays me when an ugly sob wracks through my very being, unable to quiet it down.

"Princess/Prince, are you crying?!" Kiri's voice carried his panic and worry. "I'm coming in!" He warned before slamming the door open.

I barely raised my head to meet his worried crimson eyes as his giant frame took up most of the doorway, frozen. His expression falls at the sight of the giant crocodile tears running down my face, distress written all over my expression.

Without saying anything, he rushed over to my side, his big, warm hand landing on my back, immediately rubbing gentle circles as to comfort me.

"Baby, what's wrong? Tell me," he asked, voice trying to soothe me. I shook my head, unable to say or utter a word and I dropped my head again, breathing erratic. "You're hyperventilating, baby. You need to try and calm down a bit."

More sobs was the only thing I responded with. Hearing some shuffling, a moment passed before a soft calming melody sounded through the storm in my mind, along with the sound of gentle falling rain. It was the same several hour music track that I would usually listen to when something was bothering me.

I've always loved the sound of falling rain and ocean waves.

Kiri dropped his phone to the floor, letting the music wrap us in its soothing melody. He brought his hand to my cheek to gently bring my face up and face him. His expression sad as he gets a better look at my distraught, of the crocodile tears streaming down my face, of the deep sadness in my eyes.

Letting his other hand to join my face, he gently wiped away my tears as I tried to control my breathing. "Baby, you have to calm down. It's okay now, I'm here," he said in a gentle voice, bringing me up onto his lap, and wrapping his strong arms around me.

I clutch onto his uniform jacket, burying my face into his chest as I sobbed away, ruining his uniform with my tears and snot.

He gently rocked the both of us, bringing one of his hands up to my head as he softly brushed his fingers through my hair. "Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay," he whispered in my ear.

I don't know how long we sat there, listening to falling rain, Kiri rocking us, whispering calming words into my ear before my breathing was back to normal and my sobs turning into sniffles. Even long after I've calmed down, Kiri still held onto me tightly, grounding me from the storm whirling in my mind.

Only when I lifted up my head from his chest to look up at him did he give me a soft smile, reaching up to brush away strands of hair from my face and eyes. Then, Kiri reached over to his phone, pausing the music before turning back to me.

"Feeling better?"

I slowly nodded my head, my voice hoarse as I finally managed to give a reply, "Yeah, a little bit."

"What happened back there?" Kiri asked, his brow furrowed in worry.

Tears were already welling up in my (e/c) eyes, my bottom trembling as I fought to hold back the tears. Kiri reached up one hand to hold my chin, his thumb softly brushing my bottom lip.

"Please baby, I hate seeing you so distraught," he told me, eyes full of concern as he continued to stroke my bottom lip, as if trying to coax the words to come out, to explain what was paining me so much so he can fix it.

"I-" I stuttered, sniffling back the tears. "I miss him."

"Miss who, baby?" Kiri asked, confused.

"M-my dad," I said, voice now shaky as the tears started falling again. "I m-miss him so much."

Kiri seemed to come to the conclusion that I might have only been extremely homesick. "Why dont you go visit him today then? It's Friday, so you can just stay with him for the weekend."

I violently shook my head. "I-I can't."

"Why not, baby?" He started stroking my back again to try and comfort me.

"H-he died! Two months ago!" I sobbed, pressing my face to his chest again.

"Oh fuck. Shit, I am soo sorry baby. Why didn't you tell me?" Kiri asked, hugging me tightly to him. "I would've been there for you."

"I-I didn't w-want to w-worry y-you," I cried.

Kirishima started rocking us both again, his grip on me tighter as if trying to hold me together. "Of course I'm going to be worried baby. I have been worried about you. I noticed you've been distancing yourself for a while now, but I didn't want to make you talk when you weren't ready. God, I'm so unmanly, not realizing that you were in so much pain all this time." He placed his hand on top of my head. "I am sooo sorry, baby."

I sniffled, shaking my head. "D-Don't be. I w-was the one who d-decided not to t-tell any of you g-guys. I-it's not your f-fault."

"But why didn't you tell us baby? You know we all would've been here for you."

I shrugged. "I-I just wanted to be s-strong for y-you guys. I d-didn't want to w-worry any of you."

"Oh, babe." He pulled back enough to look at me. "You are strong. But it's okay to lean on us, on mee. Just because you're crying, doesn't make you weak. You're mourning, and its okay to cry when you're mourning. It just shows how close you are with your dad and how much you're missing him."

"But... But it feels like my fault though," I cried.

"What do you mean?" His brows furrowed again in confusion.

"I... I was there that night. The night he passed." I wiped at the tears even though it was fruitless with how the tears continued to fall. "We were all happily celebrating my grandma's birthday. We were all laughing. And I went to sleep a bit late that night. I noticed how his was position in his bed when I got up to use the bathroom, but I didnt think any of it. My dad sits in that position sometimes, and I know that he goes to sleep way later than me. And when I woke up at 11 the next morning because of my grandma calling for me, I got up to see what she needed. You remember, that my grandma cant really move around that well anymore?" I asked him.

Kiri nodded his head, remembering that I helped my grandma when the two of us had dinner with my dad and grandma. "So when I got up and headed towards her room, I saw my dad in the same position. But figured he must've just fallen asleep... Then I went to use the bathroom after helping my grandma, and when I looked closer, I noticed how swollen his feet were. I... I knew my dad was always sick and his legs getting swollen all the time, but... I-I just didnt think I'd find him like that." I cried, covering my mouth as another sob wracked threw me. "Vomit... All over the blankets and his bierd... A blood clot hanging from his nose-"

"Shhh, its okay, baby" Kiri hushed me, rubbing my back, "If it's too much for you, you don't have to explain anymore."

After waiting for my breathing to stabilize again, I continued, "I... I just feel like if I had checked up on him before I went to bed... Maybe... Maybe the paramedics would've been able to save him..."

Kiri grabbed onto my shoulders to pull me away so as to look me dead in the eyes with a stern look. "Y/n, listen to me. It is not your fault," he said firmly. "Okay? It is not your fault. Sometimes these things happen."

"But-" I started, but he cut me off.

"No but's. Okay? I know I havent known him as long as you, but I could tell from the first time I met him that he was soo proud of you. And probably still is." His words made me cry harder, my bottom lip trembling again as I tried to pull myself together in front of this amazing man in front of me. "There's no need to beat yourself up over this," Kiri said, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I started bawling my eyes out again. Kiri started rocking us again, holding me tight as I let out all my sadness and anguish.

"Shhhh... It's okay... Everything's will be okay..." He mumbled in my ear. "Let it all out."

We stayed like that for the next hour as I let out all my suffering, the scent of his cologne, the comforting words, and the sound of the music track all lulling me to sleep, my mind and body too heavy to fight it off.

~~~

I woke up to a dark room, the sun long gone over the horizon. I blearily blinked my eyes open, feeling my tears dried over the skin of my cheeks. All of a sudden, a warm hand slides under my shirt, rubbing a thumb on my stomach. A face was then buried into the back of my neck, a soft pair of lips kissing at the skin.

"Morning beautiful/handsome," came Kiri's sleep filled voice

"Mmnn what time is it?" I mumbled.

Kiri pulled away for a moment, turning to reach behind him for presumably his phone on my nightstand. Squinting at the glare of the phone, Kiri gave me an answer, "7 o'clock at night, so its just about dinner time." Dropping his phone back onto the nightstand, he resumed his position of spooning me, completely dwarfing my body with his giant frame. "You haven't ate lunch right?"

I shook my head. "Or breakfast. Or dinner last night. Or any meals for the past few days."

"What?" Kiri shot up, glaring down at me. "And the time before that?"

I shrugged, my brain too drained to think of a solid answer. "Couple days."

"Y/n!"

"I know, I know. I shouldn't be skipping my meals everyday. I should eat at least once a day."

"Is that why you look thinner? Cause you've been skipping your meals??!"

I shrug at him. "I was busy studying for the midterms. Besides I never went 3 days without eating something."

"That's not the point!" Kiri rubbed his hand down his face before looking at me with worry. "You shouldn't be skipping any meals or overworking yourself like this." He reached over to brush a lock of hair away. "Babe, my heart hurts at the thought of you not taking care of yourself."

I place my hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. "I know... I'm sorry. I didnt mean to worry you like this. I just... couldn't come to terms with reality so I busied myself to make me forget the pain. On the bright side I came up with this new, awesome ultimate move I've been dying to show you," I said with some excitement, trying to cheer him up.

He scowled sternly at me for a moment before sighing, shaking his head, any trace of worry and frustration gone from his face as a small smile took over his lips. "Alright fine." But then the stern look came back as he firmly told me, "But I'm not letting you skip any meals anymore, even if I have to force you to eat. And you're not doing no studying or training this weekend."

"Wait, but-" I tried to counter, stopped when the stern look in his eyes intensified.

"No if's, and's or but's. Unless its yours up in the air as I fuck you so hard you wont be able to do anything this weekend but relax."

I blushed and swallowed loudly. "Good, now wait here while I go get you a plate. Bakugou's supposed to be cooking tonight." He leaned down to plant a kiss on my lips. Then another. Then another and another before pulling away only slightly to look into my eyes with that familiar dark look in his eyes, a smirk forming on his handsome face. "Maybe I should grab you two plates. You're going to need it for fuel for tonight."

My faced burned as I realized what he meant. He chuckled darkly before standing up and walking towards the door. "I'll be back in a few. And you better be stripped down to nothing by the time I get back." Turning back towards me with a seductive look. "Don't you worry about a thing, baby girl/boy. Daddy's going to take real good care of you this weekend." Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I gulped loudly, already feeling that familiar heat down below.

It was going to a long weekend.

[archonssun]

Fallout

REQUESTS FOR JUJUTSU KAISEN ARE OPEN!!!

WARNINGS: spoilers for chp 137 of the manga

notes: So, funny story: as I was getting ready to transfer this from the google doc to Tumblr, i accidently hit ctrl+v instead of ctrl+c and I lost everything 😃 then I accidentally hit the back button on the browser instead of undo and i legit had to dig around in order to get it back. Even then, a lot was lost.

So, I hope you enjoy this story cuz it shaved off approximately seven years off my life trying to get it here (i think my heart actually stopped at one point TT^TT)

As a kid, you had enjoyed Halloween. It had just meant more time you were able to spend with your friends. As you grew older, you participated less and less, your jujutsu training taking priority. You didn’t know you’d never be that kid again.

Now, at 17, you absolutely loathed the day. For the rest of your life, it would remind you of what -- no, who you almost lost.

Mechanical whirring filled the otherwise silent room. Inumaki Toge had been carefully deposited on one of the beds and they had hooked him up to various machines. It reminded you of the Kyoto Sister School Event when Toge had used his Cursed Speech even when he was well past his limits, but this time it was so much worse.

Your upper body was flopped onto the bed, head resting atop your arms and your (e/c) eyes trained on what remains of your lover’s left arm.

It hurt you to see Toge like this. He had always been the brighter-spirited one out of the two of you, always sharing jokes and witty one-liners to lighten any mood. Yet he was now silent, the incessant beeping coming from the machine at his bedside being the only indication he was even still alive. Your fingers moved towards the hand resting on his stomach, tears falling from your eyes as your fingers laced with his.

“I’m so sorry, Toge,” you sniffled, your grip on his hand tightening slightly as your other hand traced the snake and fangs seal on either side of his mouth. The pristine white bed sheets drank up your tears as they fell and the sheet covering Toge shifted with each breath he managed to pull in. “Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to happen to you? Why did it happen there?”

You wanted to hate Itadori, you really did. But you knew the only one responsible for what happened was Sukuna. It was his fault Toge was like this, it was his fault that so many lives had been lost in Shibuya.

Your breath caught in your throat and your head shot up when Toge’s voice reached your ears. You were sure you had imagined it, but as you fell into Toge’s gentle brown eyes you felt the tears fall even harder. You buried your face against his chest, your hand letting go of his hand as you hugged the boy tightly. You sobbed against him, his hand running through your hair.

“You’re alive! You’re awake!” You cried, a giant smile on your face when Toge hummed. His arm wrapped around your back to keep you close to him as he pressed kisses to your face, his lips catching the tears before they could fall onto the sheets.

An inquisitive hum vibrated in Toge’s throat suddenly, making you jump when his fingers shakily tracing the new scars on your face. You helped Toge sit up, propping him against the pillows at his back as he studied the marks. One had come from a blade-like appendage slashing across the bridge of your nose, and the other had been caused by the hook-like claws of a curse that had caught your bottom lip. As his fingers touched the scar at your lip, you brought your hand to his and pressed a kiss to his fingertips. You had such a sad smile on your face that he felt his own eyes begin to sting.

Toge slipped his hand from yours, his fingers gently cradling the back of your head as he rested his forehead against yours. He caught and held your attention with his gentle eyes, a loving look making them shine brightly. You understood what he meant, even with no words being spoken: I love you. I’m glad you’re alive.

You gave a firm nod, sniffling as you wiped at your eyes, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Toge.” You managed to press a kiss to his lips, a smile tugging at your lips when he hummed. “I love you.”

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