#and it makes me so unwell how GENTLE she is in certain moments

[mira-blue]

i miss her (lady maria of the astral clocktower)

#she is made up of everything i love in a character #blood-covered? check. tragic? double check. a little unhinged? check again. epic theme? you bet #LIKE #she DID commit those horrible deeds in the fishing hamlet #there is so so much blood on her hands #but she also threw away her beloved weapon and cared about the patients and gave away the balcony key to adeline just for #the smallest chance that the flowers in the garden would bring her comfort #and it makes me so unwell how GENTLE she is in certain moments #like when she lets go of the hunter's hand #or when she uses a visceral attack #like. cmon. LIKE. #she is a fierce‚ blood-stained‚ brutal sinner whose tragedy is that she is also a gentle‚ caring‚ guilty human being #(who might possibly be in love with a saint) #do u get it. do u #bloodborne #lady maria of the astral clocktower #lady maria #mirambles

[oceanlipgloss]

27.1.2024

—nsfw + chapter 5 spoilers (+ a dash of dark humour)

*Spongebob narrator voice* ah, Bikini Bottom Leviathan's H-scene. One I've been looking forward to, excitedly so. And since this chapter had a fair slice of tragedy, it was sealed with an H-scene as a treat. That's not going to heal the angsty feelings, but into it I shall dive. Look, it rhymes lots of aquatic vocabulary

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intro: the scene's intro screen shows that Leviathan still has his shirt on. And you know what? WHAT A TURN-ON, THAT'S WHAT

update I: Hades Studios present 'The Sick Chicken' no but I like him SO MUCH. His attitude is a breath of fresh air pun intended but the reasons that played a role in forming it are so sad

update II: MWAHAHAHA GO HARDER ON HER

update III: *clapping like a madwoman* BRAVO, BRAVO! That's really hot of him, you know. Everything about this is sending me to heaven except for the fact that someone like me obviously can't so much as set a toe on the grounds of Paradise because it doesn't exist but I mean, COME. ON. The way he let his hand move from her neck to her chin? 'Glowering at you as though he would burn the mark off with his gaze alone'? HOLY FUCKKKK <3

update IV: GOD NO THIS IS TOO HOT GOD WOOHOOOOOO

update V: man oh man he's so MMMM

update VI: RAAAAAA

update VII: he speaks to me on a spiritual level trying not to inject angst into this by bringing up what caused him to feel this way So, Leviathan. You, me, parking lot, 'who hates people more' contest, 5PM. I'm not hanging anyone tho maybe actually, scratch that. We're hanging horrible people together like we're Harley Quinn and the Joker, baby

update VIII: pfff 'how fair of you' His reaction, though? So confident. So fucking sexy. Yours truly is already a dead girl, but at the moment she's dying, dying, dying beyond death And wdym 'he smirked, but even then he was so beautiful yada yada' like dude, he's more beautiful BECAUSE he's smirking, BECAUSE of his arrogant spite

update IX: I'm really glad she considered his feelings and didn't immediately agree to have sex with him. Truth be told, this came as quite the pleasant surprise, because while she does have moments in which she's considerate, I don't view this particular MC as someone who's truly capable of being sensitive to others that much. Sure, she didn't directly agree to sleep with Belial when he offered because she thought he was still unwell, but here I honestly still expected her to just jump right in and not think twice about Leviathan's feelings, so I was very happy when she said this instead; she didn't focus on the fact that he dislikes her, but rather on not risking hurting him should he not want to do this with her. He's definitely attracted to you though, MC. He's just not on good terms with the concept of expressing his feelings relatable as fuck I know how this may have sounded harsh or mean of me—and it's not meant to be offend anyone—but the truth is that this MC wasn't created with 'gentle and sweet' in mind; the way her brain is hardwired to tirelessly daydream about sexual things has lead her to be insensitive at times (with painfully questionable intelligence to top it off, sorry) as seen in certain instances.

update X: kinda cute. Juuuust a little bit. ...that straightforwardness is edible

update XI: he's brutally honest and his gestures are subtle, and that makes them so sensual. In other words, THIS TICKLES MY FANCY

update XII: he says something like this with an expression like that. YEEEES he looks so sweetly smug too godddd Also: lol @ 'you MAY turn me on' = [access permitted]

update XIII: my point exactly

update XIV: his attitude is so good. SO good. He's domineering and deliberately giving her a hard time lol sufferrrr, MC on a sadder note, he also won't talk about himself because it's really hard for him to give his trust after what happened to him...

update XV: I can stand behind that. I LIKE it. Vibe with it, agree with it. I REALLY DOOO

update XVI: he...really just asked her to hit and choke him, didn't he? [MASOCHISTIC TARGET LOCATED] sometimes physical pain feels nice, Leviathan, I getchu, but being hit and strangled isn't a brand of pain I would, um, choose for myself. Whatever makes u hard happy tho, ig. Rock on, king

update XVII: the jealousyyyyy <3

update XVIII: 'Leviathan thought he was going crazy' You know who's also going to go crazy reading this? ME. My God, this many screenshots and the railing hasn't started yet

update XIX: to be honest, I'm not fond of choking, slapping, spanking, and the like, so I'm most likely not going to like what's coming next much lol but let's move on, shall we now?

update XX: damn, he's provoking her so hard to make her beat the fuck out of him, and lo and behold, he's getting what he wants. She might as well just tear his soul out at this rate or send him to his maker but where the hell is God? jk jk this chapter made it clear that Leviathan can take a shit ton of hits trauma and stay alive good god it's the blackness of my soul my dark humour speaking forgive me omfg it's not me I swear I s—I SAID WHAT I SAID This part is kinda funny so far, what with how MC has gone batshit insane on him. That being said, it's really nice how she cares about Minhyeok so much that it's the foundation of her rage and the reason Satan's wrath burns in her, urging her to harm Leviathan in a frenzy after he said ruthless things about Minhyeok. Meanwhile, Leviathan is so busy trying to get turned on that he's neither jealous nor envious of that lmao

update XXI: this is going to sound weird coming from me when I'm somewhat of a sadist who likes dark themes, loves horror and gore, and enjoys seeing torture in certain scenarios do I sound like the freak I am yet? and when I just made such a fucked up joke with good intentions too, but...MC hurting Leviathan over and over like this summons a feeling of discomfort and remorse in my heart even if I completely put away my dislike for consensual violence in sexual acts. Leviathan's past and the possible psychological implications behind his fondness of undergoing physical harm make this part somewhat painful to read, because perhaps his arousal from being hurt has something to do with what he went through as a child (i.e. it may be a coping mechanism of a sort). When I think of it that way, coupled with the horrific aspects of his childhood—the pain being inflicted on him messes with my emotions. Then again, this could just be his personal preference and not have deeper meanings. Either way, the game holds true to its themes and maintains excellent dark perspectives, and as I always say, I'll never dislike that. In fact, PB better keep these founding concepts intact.

update XXII: oh god DON'T STOMP HIS PP NOT THE PP STAY AWAY FROM PP HE NEEDS IT YOU NEED IT

update XXIII: no but EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MOSTLY THE DRIPPING HORNS (AS ALWAYS) AND HIM UNBUCKLING HIS OWN PANTS (AS SHE WATCHES TOO LORD MY KINK'S DEVOURING THIS) AND THE PRE AND— GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Why is his horns' liquid not white like the others, though?

update XXIV: THAT EXPRESSION THE CONTRAST WITH HIS NORMAL SELF MC, GIRLLLLLL BITE THAT TONGUE

update XXV: "HOW DARE YOU FEEL PLEASED?!"—MC to Leviathan of Hades, 2024 She's going to choke him to death rip him apart piece after piece, limb by limb, shred upon shred Ronové would back her up nicely oh god it's the dark humour again excuse me But it's so damn sexy how he's the one controlling her, yet she's the one wrecking him

update XXVI: YOOOO I'M GONNA DIE THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO—

update XXVII: PP goes 'fwop'

update XXVIII: he is SUCH a mess YESSSS u should get even messier, Leviathan, you MUST

update XXIX: he insists on making eye contact no matter what. FUCK YES. And the teasing? FUCK YEAHHHHH

update XXX: I LOVE I SAID I LOVE—

update XXXI: so, so hot YAAAAAA

update XXXII: her wrapping her arms around his neck and then both of them just being so dazed out of their minds that the no-more-strangling move is not bothersome anymore...*sigh* pls feed me moreeeeee

update XXXIII: bro 'frantically licked' sent me. MC, slurping on Leviathan's horn like her life depends on it: boy am I thirsty The horns are a blessing, they're everything. And he's so messed up by the lick lick what she's doing that he can't even form a sentence (likely an insult to hide how fucked out of his mind that made him feel)

update XXXIV: THIS JUST FED ME MORE FR FR MY STOMACH HURTSSS HE'S DESPERATE and dang, I didn't know even hearts could reach climax. You learn something new everyday lol nah, I get what they mean So fucking hot how they kept kissing until they couldn't breathe my kind of thing a VERY pleasing display of Leviathan's kink, yes

update XXXV: squelch...squelch...squish squish, slurp slurp, anyone? Guess this writing style wasn't reserved for Tartaros's boys after all :( Bimet and I are fake-crying in the distance

update XXXVI: does he mean the tormenting or the fucking? Because if he's referring to sex, I offer Minhyeok my condolences. MC's never going to fuck you senseless or at all, hon. Sorry, but u should've known better, BFF boy :( I know no mercy

update XXXVII: Leviathan feeling happy because of her reply and him replying with "good. It should stay like that"? So possessiveeee <3 no more images fit Kinda melting over how his envy didn't flare up and anger him like it did in the beginning 'cause the brutality sex softened him for the moment

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

+notes: I was violently wishing for a Leviathan's-clothes-are-still-on-during-sex CG, so when the CG came up and there was no MC on top of him, I was disappointed for a short minute short because then I looked at his face and his godly position spread legs and how he's on the ground like that...mmm lol

It's a change of pace, new. For WHB, at least—since it isn't like previous CGs—but it's heart-throbbing in its own way; seeing cold, pretty Leviathan on the floor like that, meek with his red cheeks...slurp a delicacy.

Ahem, anyways. The CG took me down memory lane somewhat, back to my first otome-playing-days from about 10+ years ago. Whenever the 'Happy Ending' CG was of the male lead alone, I always disliked that because I WANTED TO SEE *THE COUPLE* DOING THINGS, DAMMIT (even though the wildest things players saw characters do in CGs back in those days were mostly kisses lol until they got more daring, that is).

So yeah, while I did feel sort of disappointed when I first saw this CG, while I do prefer CGs like those of previous H-scenes, and while I still wish I could've seen Leviathan and MC in action, at the same time this CG is *chef's kiss* for obvious reasons and also due to how I feel like it suits Leviathan very well in a way. He's built walls about his heart and boundaries around himself, so it's as though the game won't let players see him like they did the men before him (in the main story), if that makes sense. I'm also hoping his shirt stayed on during sex

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

edit: I just inspected opened the CG in the album for a, um, better view and...MC is grabbing Leviathan's PP? Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah that's so YESSSS RAAAAAA

#what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb #whb leviathan #what in hell is bad diaries

[ask-healthy-light]

As Frost gently wrapped her wings around Luna's back, she whispered that she was merely startled by the sudden gust of cold wind that Frost exhaled onto her, but apart from this, there was nothing to worry about, as it lasted for but a moment; but as a warm smile grew upon her face, Luna told Frost with a chuckle that she did not mind, as it resulted in them being in one another's gentle embrace.

It took a little while before Frost truly understood how significant her and Luna's embrace was, as earlier that day, she had struggled to even look upon the Princess without turning into a ruby-red, embarrassed, and ecstatic version of herself; and she quietly sighed in relief as she embraced Luna more deeply, for while she no longer felt embarrassed, her ecstasy and bright blush still remained.

But while Luna's brief shudder was indeed caused by Frost's icy breath, when she embraced the great Dragoness, and she embraced her in return, a strange, familiar, and terribly painful feeling washed over her, and caused her heart to ache, and she shuddered again; but even though she had told Frost she did not have to be concerned, to Luna's immense relief, Frost swiftly realised she felt unwell.

In an instant, Frost feared she had hurt Luna by embracing her too tightly, but after she let go of the Princess, and moved to sit face-to-face with her to make sure she was all right, Frost realised that her eyes had started to well up; and as she gently took her hooves, Frost sweetly pleaded with Luna, asking her to tell her how she was feeling, just like she had promised her a mere moment ago.

The only thing Luna managed to do was repeatedly tell herself that she was safe, and unhurt, and in the company of others who deeply care for her, and there was no need for her mind to make her worry so severely over something she could not even remember; and the only thing she knew for certain was different was the fact that Frost was a Dragon, unlike every single other embrace she had received.

At that moment, Frost got an idea, and she slowly breathed onto Luna's hooves, hoping that the cold could snap her out of her focus, and help her think of anything besides what had caused her so much distress in such a short time; and though it happened just after she returned Luna's embrace, after she and Luna had shared in so much positivity, Frost only briefly worried whether she was at fault.

Still, Frost could tell that Luna could not keep her mind off this too familiar and painful feeling within her, which both warmed and hurt her heart in equal measure, even though it only reminded her of faint and obscured memories; and as Luna's face became stained with tears, Frost tried to find a Doctor who could help her, to no avail, before she called out to the others down the hall for help.

But to her dismay, her calls for help went unheard, and the hallway felt almost abandoned without a single Doctor in sight, so Frost took a deep breath to calm herself down, and turned away from Luna to exhale; and after she carefully placed her claws on her shoulders, and held her as softly as one would hold a newborn Foal, she gently pulled Luna close, and gave her a sweet kiss on her forehead.

When she heard Luna quietly gasp in surprise, Frost immediately pulled away from her, and sincerely apologised for her actions as she harshly closed her eyes again, briefly explaining that she had no idea what came over her; and Luna blinked a few times before she looked at Frost, who let go of her shoulders to shield her face with her claws, unfairly expecting Luna to react in a terrible manner.

As Luna took Frost's claws with her hooves, she flinched, before she sweetly asked Frost if she was all right, and asked her to look at her, speaking with a lump in her throat; and after she unfurled her wings, Luna promised Frost she was safe as she wiped clean her face, and that there was nothing to fear here, since what happened in the past was not now, no matter what her mind was telling her.

To her relief, Frost opened her eyes again, and as she looked at Luna, the Princess said:

"You helped me escape from my memories… Please believe me when I swear to help you do the same."

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

#story related #my little pony #writing #oc #healthy light #blizzard frost #princess luna

[starleska]

('Tis me, Jeremiah anon, stepping over the piles of Mad Mod content while trying not to knock anything over) Hello again! I'm glad to see you're having fun. I just dropped in because I wanted to share another song. I like to use it for my own Wally/OC content (that currently only exists in my head but you know, maybe someday), but I really enjoy it and want other people to as well.

The song is "Overjoyed" by Matchbox 20, and it's just... such a dreamy, gentle sort of love song. Matchbox 20 and Rob Thomas have been an inspiration for my own work for a long time (the OC in question has "Her Diamonds" and "Unwell" as unofficial playlist songs, and "If You're Gone" is just a lifelong favorite of mine), but Overjoyed in particular... I can't explain why, but that's the song I like to imagine soundtracks the actual moment my OC allows herself to fall in love, or accept that she already has. Just this moment of emotional intimacy where she just lets herself be happy about how she's feeling... I think everybody deserves a moment like that.

Anyway, that's all from me! I'm gonna leave you to your good time while I go back to my own collection of fictional faves. Have a good day!

😂😂😂😂😂 oh, sweet Jeremiah anon, bless your heart for clambering over the mounds of Mad Moddities which have accumulated on this blog!!! i'm sure quite a few folks just noped out past a certain point...thank you for sticking with me in this ridiculous fixation 🙈💖 i don't know how long this is going to last, but i hope it's for a long time!! i'm sure after a bit i'll settle back into more multifandom shenanigans...but for now, i'm holding Mad Mod's hand and want to savour the feeling 🥴💖 ooooh what a lovely suggestion!! i haven't heard Overjoyed in quite some time, but you're so right...it's such a whimsical, pleasant song, and the lyrics fit beautifully for Wally and any character shipped with him 🙈💖 there's a lot of care in there, you know? and i'm so happy that you too just sit and daydream about your fictional faves with your OCs (or yourself!!!) with a little backing soundtrack...makes me feel less alone 😖💖 everyone does deserve a moment like that - i hope you have many more to come :3c d'aww, thank you very much darling!! don't be a stranger, now - just because i'm in British bastard hell doesn't mean i don't like to chat!! i hope you have an amazing rest of your day, and lots of lovely thoughts about your faves 🥰💖

#starleskasks #f/os

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would they react if she had to come to work sick to calm one of them down? I'm sure the prison would prefer her to do it than them since they'd die. I'm sure red or sans would make her go home to get better! I can see red panicking seeing her get dizzy and nearly passing out from the fever

Sans: Once he realises just how sick she is, he tries to convince her to go home... he doesn’t even feel unwell and he’s happy to go back in with the other prisoners. But she explains (through her coughing) that she doesn’t really have a choice. She has to be there, according to management, and if she’s not treating him she needs to get back to work.

“... well. in that case... i’m having a serious medical emergency right now, doc. super serious and deadly. imma need you to stay with me for like... at least a few hours. to monitor and make sure i’m okay, yknow? in fact, why don’tcha stay juuuust there on the care bed, under the blanket, and i’ll getcha some water.”

She makes some mild noises of protest. Had she been in a better state of mind, she NEVER would’ve fallen asleep with a convicted murderer in the room with her... but she’s exhausted and delirious and it feels amazing to be off her feet. 

She sleeps for about six hours. Sans keeps a socket out the whole time. 

Red: She was probably called in after he got in a fight. He can immediately see she’s not feeling well but he doesn’t realise how bad it is until he makes a halfhearted flirt, and she doesn’t even try to tell him off for it. Something must’ve gone HORRIBLY wrong!

She actually totally passes out while cleaning blood off his face. He catches her, luckily, quickly scooping her up into his arms... it’s hard to enjoy his first chance to properly hold her when she’s got a raging fever, with bright red cheeks, fluttering breaths and a sweat-dotted brow. Once she rouses herself back to life again he makes her put her foot down and go home... it’s hard to say no to her request to end her shift early when Red is hanging over her shoulder, giving death glares to everyone who even looks like they’re thinking of saying no.

He feels extremely guilty for getting in a fight/getting her called in while she’s so clearly in need of rest. If you ignore all the pestering he does about how she’s doing and if she’s back yet, the days when she’s on sick leave are his best behaved in a long time.

Skull: She passes out in Skull’s room, too. It’s usually a high-stress space for her and it’s all too much for her already exhausted brain... an enclosed area with a monster that frightens and confuses her, she basically just sways and topples over.

... And then it’s like someone threw a tank’s worth of gasoline on campfire. His instincts, for a lack of a better word, explode- the love of his life just dropped to the floor in front of him like a puppet with its strings cut and the panic he felt in that moment can’t be understated, let alone measured. The effects of his sedatives are burned away in milliseconds. He tears out of the restraints (the metal buckles of the straps warping and twisting) and gathers her tiny body into his arms, backing into a far corner and curling around her, fussing her hair and face with his giant claws and mumbling her name like he’s trying to wake her up.

He won’t let go, even once she wakes up. He keeps her close to his chest, where he can hear her breathing, and be certain she’s alright. Nobody can get close... when staff approach/attempt rescue he becomes so irate that they’re worried the gentleness he has with her will slip. And it only needs to slip for a few seconds for him to instantly snap her like a twig.

So... while the staff wait for the industrial sedative to arrive, Mc is stuck in enforced rest with her big, purring guard.

#llamagines #prison au #obviously skull would never hurt her #he'd make sure she was out of the way before he tore their throats out with his teeth #hes a gentleman like tht

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

@sicktember​ Prompt # 8: Contagious

Title: Unexpected Developments 

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Prompt inspired by @chezsnez ​. The prompt: “What if in P&P when Jane gets sick at Netherfield, the other guests catch her cold and Lizzie ends up having to take care of Darcy. Kinda like enemies to lovers but with enemies to caretaker.” Thank you as always for the wonderful ideas, my friend!

Jane Bennett’s cold has spread to all the guests at Netherfield, hitting some worse than others. How will Lizzie respond when she finds proud, arrogant Mr. Darcy sneezing miserably and running a fever?

Elizabeth stepped out into the hall, closing the door on Jane's sickroom behind her. Jane was lying down to rest, so Lizzie was left to her own devices for the next hour or two. With no obligation to visit with the rest of the guests today, she had decided to wander a bit to stretch her legs and familiarize herself with more of Netherfield. As she walked, she let her mind wander as idly as her feet.

"We're certain to never be asked back here again," Lizzie sighed to herself after a bit. While Lizzie herself didn't much care, Jane and her mother would be devastated.

The cold Jane had caught on her ill-fated horseback ride to Netherfield had proved to be very contagious. Charles and Caroline Bingley had succumbed to it quickly. At luncheon the day after Elizabeth arrived to care for her sister, the siblings were seen to have dark circles under their eyes, with nostrils tinged a raw-looking pink. Caroline was forced to press a handkerchief to her dripping nose more than once through the course of the meal, while Charles kept painfully coughing into his. Caroline retired immediately after the meal, complaining of a headache and did not return. Charles sent his apologies down just before supper, saying he too had taken ill and would be staying in his room. Walking past Caroline's door later while checking on Jane, Lizzie heard her sneezing so miserably that  Eliza felt a touch of sympathy for the unpleasant woman.

Mr. Darcy had been the one to carry the news of Bingley's illness to the rest of the party, but Elizabeth had hardly seen him since. She gathered he was either passing the time in his own room or else keeping Charles company. It seemed his immune system was hearty, for he hadn't seemed ill when she had last spoken to him. 

Several days had now elapsed since the onset of Jane's illness, and the eldest Bennett sister was doing much better, and in fact really had no need of a caregiver anymore, though she had said more than once that she was glad Elizabeth was there for the company. With any luck, the sisters would be able to go home in a few days, as long as the others had recovered as well. Elizabeth found this thought encouraging as she continued to explore. 

Eventually she came to a hallway at the far side of the house that she was sure would be a dead end and likely empty, but she preferred to look at it anyway, for perhaps it would have a nice view out the window. The hallway was in fact a dead end, but was far from empty.

Coming around the corner, she stopped short, for at the end of the hallway and facing the window was Mr. Darcy. With some amusement she realized he was about to sneeze, for he was hunched over with his handkerchief pressed to his face and his breath hitching desperately.

"Heh-ZZZIIIH'shieww! HIIHHK'choo!" He did his best to muffle the sound into his handkerchief, but was mostly unsuccessful. The sneezes were wet and miserable-sounding, and while Elizabeth couldn't see his face, she could imagine his equally miserable expression, for he sneezed like someone with a thick, burgeoning head cold.

She had a choice to make. She could very easily walk away and pretend she had seen nothing, leaving him and his cold to their own devices. After all, the fact that he had hidden away in this corner indicated that he didn't want to be discovered, and while he had been overall civil to her since she had come to stay here, his haughty pride and past treatment of her were not quickly forgotten. Or, she could offer him aid.

"Hih'GEHH'shuuh!" This 3rd sneeze, whether part of the trio or on its own (it was hard to be sure) was the most desperate and miserable sounding of them all. His shoulders slumped wearily as he tended to his nose in the aftermath, and she thought she heard him say something like "ick" as he did so as well.

"Bless you, sir," said Elizabeth boldly, coming fully into the hallway. He leapt around as if he'd been shot, his face reddening. She could see him frantically trying to think of a way to explain himself.

"My apologies," he muttered at last, gruffly. "That was most undignified."

"You have no need to apologize, for you didn't know I was here. It is I who should apologize for startling you. However, I wanted to ask after your health, for you sound most unwell."

"I am fine," he muttered, clearly uncomfortable. Looking closer at him, Lizzie saw the flush over his face might not be due entirely to embarrassment, but perhaps also to fever, for his eyes had the same unhealthy cast she had seen in Jane's eyes only a few days before. He was also swaying slightly where he stood, and had a dampness of sweat along his hairline.

"Might I offer to accompany you to your room, sir? You look as if you needed to lie down for a spell."

"That is… unnecessary. I can…." He cut himself off with a rough cough. She could tell he was desperately trying to think of an excuse as to why she shouldn't be the one assisting him. However, they both knew that Charles was sick (quite sick, if the murmurs she'd heard from the staff were to be believed), and that all the servants were overworked as it was with taking care of their master and his sister. 

"I'm sure you're quite busy with your sister. You need not concern yourself with me," he finally rasped. 

"On the contrary, she is resting peacefully, while you are positively trembling and look to be on the verge of collapse from fever. Take my arm and we shall see you to your quarters."

Mr. Darcy hesitated another moment, still casting around for some excuse. Knowing what needed to be done, Elizabeth moved to his side and gently linked her arm around his. She felt her heart flutter as their hands made brief contact. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that this was the first time they had touched. She had certainly imagined it occurring under different circumstances. Shaking away such thoughts, she started to walk, leading the much taller man toward his quarters. Mr. Darcy was enough of a gentleman to follow without further protest. 

As they walked, both of Mr. Darcy's arms were occupied, for the hand that wasn't linked with Elizabeth's was busy pressing his handkerchief to his face. Every few steps his shoulders would twitch, either from a stifled cough or a thick sniffle. She could sense he was desperately trying not to sneeze again. Between that and the fact that his large form was positively radiating heat, Elizabeth found herself quite distracted by him, and watched him intently out of the corner of her eye. The walk was a quiet one, for Elizabeth didn’t want to burden him with conversation when he was clearly otherwise engaged, not to mention ill.

They made it to his room without interruption, sneezing or otherwise. She allowed him to open the door, then she ushered them both in, with more than a little awkwardness on all sides. Mr. Darcy went immediately to sit on his bed, sinking down as if compelled by gravity, leaning his head into his hands as he continued to tremble.

"A headache troubles you as well, then?" she asked after observing his motionless form for a moment.

He nodded pathetically, not looking up. Out of nowhere, and startling them both, his breath hitched violently before a pair of sneezes erupted out of him. Thankfully they were directed at the floor. He pressed his damp handkerchief to his nose hastily, glancing at her and looking embarrassed.

"Forgive me," he muttered thickly, which was followed up with a cough.

"You need not waste your breath asking forgiveness every time you sneeze when you have a cold, for you have precious little breath to spare as it is. However, I must ask, why did you not alert someone of your illness? You are quite unwell, Mr. Darcy. Anyone can see it plainly."

"I did not want to be a bother, as everyone else was also ill. I thought it best to tend to myself."

"Whether or not you alerted someone, you shouldn't have gotten out of bed today. You've certainly made yourself worse by doing so."

He only groaned softly.

Elizabeth sighed to herself. "Please, if I may, let me help you feel more comfortable. You need to rest."

Hesitantly she approached him as he looked up to finally meet her eyes. With a gentle touch she guided him to sit up straighter, then deftly removed his cravat. She sensed more than heard his sigh of relief once it was off, and found herself letting her hand rest on his hot cheek under the pretense of checking his fever. He seemed to enjoy the touch immensely. Her eyes lingered on his face as he sat with his eyes closed, and many thoughts and feelings competed for space in her mind. She did her best to suppress them all.

 After a moment though, she broke the spell, and continued to help him remove his jacket, waistcoat, boots and stockings. He assisted as best he could with these attentions, but said nothing, merely following her every move with his guarded, intense gaze. Once the garments were set aside and he was looking much more loose and comfortable, if also embarrassed to be seen in such an undressed state, she pressed a glass of water into his hands and watched as he drank it down.

She took the glass from him, and setting it down, took up a cold, wet rag. She placed it against the back of his neck and was rewarded with a relieved sigh. From there she bathed the rest of his neck and the bit of chest that was visible, ensuring her gaze stayed far from his, but unable to help a bit of a blush creeping over her cheeks at such acts of intimacy with such a person. With continued gentleness, she pressed him back against the pillows. The movement of course made him cough pitifully. Soaking the cloth once more, she laid it on his forehead and left it there as she straightened the pillows around him.

That done, they simply surveyed each other for a moment. Mr. Darcy looked ill and altogether unimposing, lying in bed as he was, with tired circles under his eyes, a hacking cough, and a dripping nose.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked hesitantly.

"Some," he grunted. "Now that I'm lying down."

"Excellent. Are you hungry at all? I think perhaps you should eat something."

His intense stare and large, warm presence were making her nervous all over again and causing her to seek escape from the small room.

"I suppose I could eat," he murmured.

"Yes, good. Then let me go fetch you some soup. I'll be back soon." She bustled out of the room immediately, a blush rising to her face, of uncertain cause. She did her best to quiet her racing thoughts as she sped toward the kitchen.

Mr. Darcy, for his part, was totally smitten with her. He was now convinced her fine eyes were the centerpiece of her completely wonderful countenance and figure. He watched the space where the corner of her skirt had disappeared intently, waiting for her return and recalling again and again the feel of her cool hand on his face.

(Part 1 of 2)

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 8

[otomememento]

Information Interrupted

What was blood? In the most basic terms it was one of the many substances that kept a person alive. And for that reason, it became a word of many meanings, some positive and some negative, but all carrying the weight of life and death lingering in the sound. All humans depended on it. But to Esme, it was equal parts a blessing and a curse. For even as it kept it alive, it was also killing her. Medical aid had kept her going for the last several years, but here, in Paris of the late 1800’s, the medical field was far less advanced. Though she had gone to Paris to escape the never ceasing doctors appointments, it had led her down a different path. And now that she wanted to linger a little longer, the means by which she was lingering were out of reach.

One morning she woke up, her head pounding in her ears. Her body felt tired, sluggish, sore. She hadn’t felt it this bad in some time; the regular appointments with the doctors made sure of that. But she had gone off the treatment, and now it was coming back in force. Still, she didn’t want her hosts, or fellow house mates to worry, so she forced herself to get up.

If Sebastian noticed how ill she was, he said nothing, and was fairly mild when it came to correcting her mistakes. He had almost gotten her to a point where she was doing her chores to his satisfaction, though he realized she would never quite match him. But he could hardly hold it against her when she was obviously trying her best. Still, there was concern in his eyes as he watched her, though he kept it schooled when she was looking directly at him. He would have to speak to Le Comte about their guest. Perhaps she had caught something when she was in town…

The opportunity didn’t present itself right away, and time took care of the rest.

Esme often ran little errands for people in the house, fetching and carrying items or messages. In the shadow of their greatness, she felt that she could at least make sure they had what they needed to continue their various works, whether it was ink for writing, a book from the library, a preferred sweet or snack. It didn’t matter to her, really, as long as it was something she could manage. And it even made her happy to do so. Some of the residents were more grateful, on the surface, than others. She never expected much gratitude from Mozart or Theo, as it wasn’t really in their personality to do so. Vincent was probably one of her favorites to see, simply because he was just so kind and cheerful to everyone; she never had to worry about a harsh word from him. Even his blond hair was welcome, not simply because it was a bright color, but because it was so close to her own shade of hair that it gave the illusion of a connection.

On that day she had been bringing in some paintbrushes that he had requested. While Sebastian often did the shopping, Esme was often the one to disperse the goods among the residents. Her steps were slower on this occasion, more unsteady. Vincent, who was busy at work, thanked her kindly, but didn’t turn to look at her when she entered the room. However, he stopped the moment he heard the thud, turning to see that she had collapsed on the floor. Worried, he called out to her, but she didn’t respond, and when he knelt beside her, she looked so very pale. So Vincent did what was most natural to him: he called for Theo.

While he was often acerbic with Esme, Theo meant the girl no harm, nor did he wish her any ill will. When he joined his brother and saw how unwell Esme looked, his concern was real, and he chastised himself for not noticing she was so weak. He had a fine eye for art, and for people, but it had been too easy to dismiss her. He should have known better. But, then it occurred to him that no one had really done, or said, anything to indicate she wasn’t well. Not even the resident doctor, who certainly had spent enough time staring at her, but not as a medical subject. And, of course, that was the next person he contacted: if anyone knew what to make of the situation, it would be Arthur.

It took a few moments for Theo to impress upon Arthur the seriousness of the matter, but once he reached through the flippant façade, Arthur didn’t waste any further time being clever and hurried with Theo back to Vincent’s room, where the painter was still keeping a watchful, but worried, eye on the fallen girl. Vincent, who hadn’t known of Arthur’s medical position, was surprised at first, but when he saw how methodical Arthur was, he didn’t question it, but quietly stood back so he wouldn’t be in the way, and watched, ready to fetch anyone else if it was required. After a cursory examination, Arthur stood up, expression grim.

“We’re going to move her to her room. I’ll carry her. Theo, go ahead of me to open doors and make sure no one gets in the way; we can answer questions later. Vincent, go fetch Le Comte.” There was nothing of the playboy in his mannerisms now, and while Theo could be belligerent towards the arbitrary authority of the upper class, this was the authority of experience speaking, and he didn’t balk at Arthur’s commands. He simply opened the door, determined to follow the orders. Arthur was firm, but gentle, as he scooped up Esme, carrying her with a good balance of speed and caution. Vincent’s room only had a narrow couch, and it simply wasn’t the best place to keep her.

Theo dealt tersely with anyone they met in the halls, and seeing no trace of Arthur’s usual levity, it was easy for them to believe that the situation was serious. Hushed voices trailed behind them as the residents dispersed, not wanting to get in the way. While they all had their issues, and not all of them were fond of Esme, none of them had a sense that they were so much more important than her when her health was at stake. Le Comte joined them when they were almost at Esme’s room, Sebastian hovering in concern behind him. As the other human in the mansion, this was particularly worrisome to the generally stoic butler.

Arthur lay Esme down carefully in her bed, working to loosen any tight clothing, already checking her vitals again in various places. Near the door, Theo and Vincent explained everything so far, from the moment Vincent heard Esme fall. Le Comte, although eager to hear from Arthur, let the man finish his work, knowing that rushing him would not do anyone any good. He could be patient; living for so long had given him that gift at least.

Part way through the examination, Esme stirred and slowly opened her eyes, her unfocused gaze gradually gaining clarity and settling on Arthur’s face. Although she looked very startled to see him there, of all people, she didn’t exactly look alarmed. In fact, she mostly looked tired and a little foggy-headed.

“What happened?”

“You passed out. I carried you here from Vincent’s room.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. “Thank you.” Esme tried to pull herself to a sitting position, but Arthur put out a hand to stop her. She didn’t resist this, and slumped back against her pillows. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t make a mess or anything, did I? I remember…I was delivering paintbrushes.”

“Don’t worry about the brushes. Even if they were damaged, I don’t think Vincent is the type to make a fuss,” Arthur reassured her.

“I suppose that’s right,” Esme agreed, though she didn’t sound too certain. Not that she didn’t believe the words, but her mind was just not working the way she wanted it too. Something was nagging at her, but she couldn’t put a finger on it.

“I will have to ask you some questions about your health. But Le Comte is worried, and he’s waiting for me to talk to him. Do you want everyone to leave while I ask these questions? He might be the master of the household, but your privacy is important.” It seemed almost funny to hear Arthur talk so seriously about privacy when he had shown such little regard for personal space when they first met. Finally Esme’s thoughts clicked into focus.

“Oh! Are you a doctor?” she asked him. She knew he was a writer, of mystery novels no less, but she also knew that a lot of authors had other jobs as well. Most people didn’t have the fortune to just be a writer all along.

“Yes.” It was a single word, blandly spoken, betraying nothing. It wasn’t much like Arthur’s usual, glib responses. Esme blinked a few times as she tried to absorb this other side to Arthur. She wanted to ask him about it, but her head was starting to really pound again. Wincing she closed her eyes. “Where does it hurt? What kind of pain is it?” The questions, while concerned, were also very direct.

“My head, mostly. Makes it hard to think.” Esme didn’t shake her head, knowing that it would just rattle her more, but she looked around, her eyes moving slowly as though even such a thing was hard to do. “Ask your questions.” It wasn’t a command, as the words might suggest, but Esme didn’t have the energy to waste the words required to be as round about as usual. Arthur waved everyone else away.

“Do you know what is wrong already?” asked Arthur when the room was cleared. Esme started slightly. It seemed strange that it was the first question he asked, but then she vaguely remembered that he was so very clever. Of course he would pick out something like that, though she didn’t know how. She just couldn’t piece it together herself in the state she was in.

“Yes, it’s…my blood,” she managed to say before passing out again.

Blood. The word itself sent a thrill through Arthur, fight it though he may. Whatever she meant by it, it certainly wasn’t an invitation to the predator inside him. No, he would have to work to rouse her again to get the answers out of her, since she seemed to know what was going on. Meddling around with her health could have negative consequences that could be mitigated by information. Already he was on his feet, issuing orders to bring him a variety of things he would need. Even the master of the household listed to such orders. For now.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfic

[literatxre-clxb]

✱

manhandling starters ✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way

I’m sorry this response was so long, but I absolutely love this prompt, and I couldn’t help but get a bit carried away with it! Hopefully my writing for Monika is alright, too - I couldn't think of how to do this prompt justice without it. -- The clubroom's closet was… something of an anomaly, truth be told. When they'd first been allowed to use the room, it was so dusty, it was hard to imagine they'd ever feel safe storing things in there - after all, the only reason the teacher let them use it in the first place was because the faculty hadn't needed extra storage space for anything important in years.

With time, effort, and a lot of motivation from Sayori, the closet went from "skeleton hider," to "normal storage space." Despite that, though, it was still a small, enclosed space with no internal light source… Anything that can be described as such is certain to have many stories and secrets locked within.

...And as of 15 to 30 minutes ago, it began providing Yuri with the biggest headache she’d experienced in years. She'd misplaced a book - a single book, somewhere in this cursed, cluttered closet, and now intended to find it. With no light aside from the dim stream coming in from the doorway, her task became significantly more torturous. So what if she just up and disappeared for a large portion of the club meeting - this book was important!

A gentle knock on the door pulled Yuri away from her search.

“Come in…!” She called absentmindedly over her shoulder. With a quiet squeak, the door opened, and Monika stepped through.

"Hey there, Yuri. Is everything okay in here? You up and vanished on us." Monika seemed concerned.

Oh, lord, they did notice. On one hand, it was nice that they were concerned for her. After all, one of her common fears was that she could up and vanish and nobody would be any the wiser… On the other hand, though, now she had to inconvenience Monika with one of her own minor personal problems.

"Yes, everything’s alright… I'm sorry to have worried you, but I'm fine. I lost one of my books in here, is all, and I just can't find it no matter how hard I look." She quietly explained, forcing herself to look at Monika while she spoke instead of back at the shelves. "If you want, you can start club activities without me today. I know the meeting is already running a bit longer than usual.”

"Hm… well, how about I help you look for it? They do say two heads are better than one, after all!" Monika smiled sweetly and contagiously - Yuri couldn't help but join her.

"That would certainly expedite this process… thank you, Monika." Yuri turned away, heading deeper into the closet to look over more miscellaneous shelves. Monika followed close behind, looking over the shelves that Yuri assumedly hadn't rummaged through yet.

As Yuri's search continued, she found herself making little headway - until she felt a pair of hands wrap around her hips, eliciting a small, involuntary gasp through clenched teeth. She was gently nudged to the side, before Monika crouched down to grab something from a shelf that Yuri had been standing in front of. She stood up again a moment later, holding a small book in her hand.

"Is this the one?" Monika asked with a slight smile.

"Y-Yes, that's the one… I suppose I just needed to work my way down through the shelves." Yuri's face was bright red, undoubtedly - hopefully her heavy breathing wasn't giving her away, on top of that. "Thank you very much, Monika."

"Are you positive you're feeling alright, Yuri? You seem flushed. I can always get you an ice pack if you're feeling unwell."

"No, that's not necessary… I only need a moment to gather myself, is all. I'll be out in… just a moment." If Yuri was to tell the truth, her emotions were running wild right now - the thoughts in her head continued to betray her, in many ways.

Another voice quickly joined theirs - Natsuki's.

"Geez, how much longer are you two gonna stay in there? Sayori's gonna learn to pickpocket from my purse at this rate." The pink haired girl cooked an eyebrow indignantly. "Yuri, why are you breathing all weird? You two better not be doing something gross."

"N-no!" Yuri stated, much louder than she intended. "We wouldn't do something like that, I mean… There are absolutely no grounds for that statement."

"Whatever. Just don't do anything weird in the clubroom." Natsuki headed back out of the closet, leaving the door open behind her.

Yuri's time at the club… certainly never ceased to be interesting. Leaving the closet, she kept replaying in her head the feeling of Monika's hands on her, the feeling of Monika's fingertips brushing against hers as she handed back the book.

Yuri's heart… surely couldn't take much more of this.

#[...and i feed myself again - yuri] #moniyuri #[moniyuri]

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {5}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: Oh snap.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

It had been a week since Cassian had managed to get Nesta back to her room unseen. She had woken with a pounding headache with her dusty shoes removed and placed neatly beside her bed. She had still been in her gown, but she was tucked in snugly.

However, she did notice that she had been missing her bracelet and assumed she had lost it somewhere in her drunken endeavors. She tried not to feel too disappointed, considering who had gifted it to her, but it was her own fault.

Nonetheless, the stableboy had taken care of her, even though Nesta only remembered glimpses of their night out at the tavern. 

Yet, she had purposely been avoiding him at all costs. Not that she went to the stables often.

When carriages were drawn, she waited indoors until it was pulled up front, ready to be loaded. She did not take Marigold for any rides, unless she was one hundred percent certain Edward was in the stables, not Cassian. 

Perhaps it was petty, but she could not face him, not after what she had remembered.

She knew she had drunk far too much, had confessed far too much. She was even certain that, at one point, she had called him handsome. 

She had called the stableboy handsome. 

And he had taken care of her. 

Nesta pushed the thoughts from her mind as she chose an unread book from the master library and trailed through the house.

“Miss Nesta! I have been looking everywhere for you.”

She froze, looking over her shoulder to find Alis trailing after her down the long hallway. “Yes?”

“You have received a letter, my Lady. Also, your father will be leaving this evening, after supper, for his journey north. He wishes you all to have a lovely dinner together in the main dining hall, promptly at six.”

“Thank you,” Nesta said, taking the letter from their maid. 

Alis curtsied. “Good day, Miss.”

“Good day, Alis.”

The moment Alis had disappeared around the corner, Nesta broke the seal and unfolded the letter. It was in that old familiar handwriting, the same handwriting she had seen all too often.

My dearest Nesta,

I hope you do not think too poorly of me. You will always have a piece of my heart, more so than my betrothed could ever have. Could we meet soon? I surely hope so.

T

Nesta was fuming.

He still wanted to meet? After he had led her to believe he would propose, then introduced her to his new fiance? Ha! Absolutely not. Tomas was an even greater fool than she thought to have written her such a thing. 

“You look angrier than usual.”

Nesta’s head jerked up to find her youngest sister leaning against the railing at the end of the hall, overlooking the main entrance. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Of course not,” Feyre said, simply. “You were too busy reading whatever that is in your hand.”

Nesta quickly crumpled up the paper in her hand. “It’s garbage.” 

“Hmmm,” Feyre said, then brushed it aside. “Excited for our big dinner with papa before he heads up north?”

Isaiah Archeron’s trip to the northern territory was his longest business trip of the year. This year, it was crucial, as they were running low on funds. He typically stayed just under a month, leaving the girls alone with Alis. 

Now that they were old enough to raise themselves.

Or something like that.

“I suppose,” Nesta said, Feyre making her way toward her. “I am certain we will be eating a pork roast since it’s papa’s favorite.”

Nesta was not a fan of pork roast.

The two went into the library and sat next to the windows where they could see Elain hovering over her garden. 

“Has she been acting strange lately to you?” Feyre asked.

Nesta took a moment to sort her words. Yes, she had, but Nesta wasn’t going to mention it. “I am not certain she is fond of Lord Lucien.”

“I don’t know why,” Feyre began. “He is handsome and kind. Out of all of us, Elain had always been the most excited to marry. At least, that is how it seemed. And, I thought father had chosen the perfect match for her with Lucien.”

Nesta agreed. “She hasn’t said a word about him. I would have thought she would be bouncing off the walls, already making wedding preparations.”

Feyre chuckled, looking out the window at her sister. “Perhaps she’s just nervous. Once Lucien asks for her hand, her entire life will change.”

Nesta mumbled her agreement, but couldn’t take her eyes away from where Elain sat on her knees, plating her newest seeds to some plant Nesta had never heard of. 

She wore a dress, although it was hiked up to her knees. It was the only time she was unladylike - when Elain was in her garden. Yet, she still made it all look graceful. 

“All I know is out of the three of us, Elain deserves to be happy.”

Nesta looked at her youngest sister and met her eyes, their mother’s eyes, the eyes identical to her own.

And she couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~

Elain loved her garden.

It wasn’t the sunniest of days, but Elain still thought it a great day to plant her chocolate cosmos. She had been waiting for her seeds to be delivered, and once Alis had announced that they’d arrived, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Besides, she loved the peace and quiet being outside in her garden brought. It was just her, and sometimes Alis. Her sisters didn’t find the same appreciation in gardening that she did, which was fine. It was Elain’s thing.

She stood, once her planning was done, and dusted off her hands. She admired the plants that were already sprouting stems above the top layer of dirt and took a deep breath. A few flowers had even begun to bloom, and she found herself awfully proud. 

Her garden allowed her to display her talents. She brought life from seeds, created something from nothing.

Once her hands were clean enough, she pulled the note she kept tucked into her dress pocket. After unfolding it, she looked at the simple signature and couldn’t stop her grin.

El,

I watched you in your garden today. You look cute with dirt smudged against your cheek. In my dreams, we live in the countryside and you have your dream garden. You grow flowers, and vegetables, and I always tell you how amazing you are at it.

Which you are. Incredible.

But you are incredible at everything. Surely you know that.

I miss you.

I love you.

I can’t wait to sneak a kiss goodnight.

A

The note had been pushed beneath her bedroom door in the middle of the night. She awoke at dawn to find it sitting against the wooden floorboards, and found her soul lightening at its words. As expected, they had not seen much of each other since their night together. Their wonderful, amazing night together. Elain had fallen asleep thinking about it every night since. His hands against her skin, the way his breath felt against her neck as he pushed himself inside of her. Every now and then, she caught his eye and blushed, wildly, only earning a small grin in return. 

They had to be careful.

But it was so damn hard. 

She loved him.

And he loved her.

So why couldn’t they be together?

Then there was Lord Lucien.

He had written to her twice within the last week and she had felt obligated to send a reply, although her heart was not in it. She felt guilty, horribly guilty. He was so kind, so deserving of a woman who found him charming and worthy.

It wasn’t that Elain did not find him charming nor worthy, it was just that someone else had already captured her heart. Then again, she knew that she could not marry Azriel. She knew that she was meant to marry Lucien, was supposed to marry Lucien, would be a great match for Lucien. And, more so, Lucien would be a great match for anyone. He was kind, gentle, handsome, wealthy. 

He was everything she was supposed to want.

Everything she was told that she should have wanted.

But everything she wanted was in a man that she would never be able to have.

And at that thought, she slowly folded up the note and put it back in her dress pocket. 

~~~~~

Nesta was right.

Supper’s main course had been pork roast.

The four of them ate in silence, unsure of how to fill it. It was always that way when they chose to eat as a family, which was few and far between since their mother had passed. Yet, Isaac thought it necessary, especially before he left for a period of time.

Three butlers stood against the walls, silent after serving their course, waiting in case one of them needed anything. Two of them, Feyre recognized. The young, dark haired one. Azriel, she believed, was his name. And Anthony, who had been around since Feyre was a little girl.

Then there was a third, who Feyre thought she had seen in the stables. After stirring her mashed potatoes and gravy for the tenth time, she looked to the young man and asked, “Aren’t you the stableboy?”

“Feyre,” Isaac chastised.

The man simply smiled politely and nodded his head. “Yes, Lady Feyre. Oliver was feeling unwell this afternoon, so I offered to take his spot during mealtime, just until he was feeling better.”

“That was kind of you,” Elain smiled.

Feyre and Isaac agreed, although Nesta said nothing, staring at her pork roast.

“Have you heard more from Lord Rhysand?”

It took Feyre a moment to realize that Elain had been speaking to her. She cleared her throat, “Yes. He wrote just yesterday, in fact.”

“Ah,” Isaac smiled, setting down his fork. “And what did he write?”

“That he hopes to visit soon,” Feyre said, “in which I replied that he shouldn’t.”

Isaac stared as Nesta snorted. “Feyre, that is rude. You should write him again, inviting him to call.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, completely forgetting about her food. “He is selfish and wants me as a wife because I am beautiful.”

“Conceited, much?” Nesta mumbled.

Feyre ignored her, continuing to stare at her father. “He has not even asked you for my hand so I owe him nothing.”

“He is a Lord,” Isaac shot back.

“He is insufferable,” Feyre snapped, taking a large bite of potatoes. “And he can kiss my-”

“Feyre,” Isaac scolded. 

“Hand,” Feyre finished, staring at her father. “He can kiss my...hand.”

Nesta snorted, but remained quiet. 

“Well, I talked to Lord Rhysand and thought he was quite lovely,” Elain chimed.

“And what of Lord Lucien?” Feyre beamed. “Have you heard from him?”

Elain’s cheeks turned pink as she hesitated. “Yes. He has written twice since the ball.”

“And?” Nesta asked, as Feyre stuffed her mouth with more mashed potatoes.

“And,” Elain began, glancing toward the butler against the wall before continuing, “he is excited to visit us here again soon.”

“Any mention of a proposal?” Feyre asked, mouth full.

“Feyre, do not talk with food in your mouth,” Isaac scolded. “You know better.”

Elain cleared her throat. “No. Not yet.”

“Shocking,” Nesta said, picking at her food without really eating it. “I would have thought he’d be outside on one knee waiting for you to accept after he charmed you at the ball.”

Elain’s cheeks reddened further, but she said nothing. 

Isaac cleared his throat, having already cleared his plate. “As you girls know, I will be leaving tonight. I should not be gone any longer than four weeks. Although, if I am, it means that business is booming and I cannot leave. In that case, I will write. Edward will be joining me.”

Nesta’s eyes shot to the stableboy, then back to Isaiah. “Well, we wish you luck and look forward to your return, papa.”

Feyre and Elain chimed in their agreements before resuming their meal.

“At what time do you leave?” Nesta asked.

“When we are finished here,” Isaac proclaimed. “Alis will watch over you, of course. However, you are all women now and can look after yourselves, no doubt. I expect you to write often, especially if anything goes amiss.”

Feyre grinned, finishing off her plate. “I assure you, we will be fine.” 

Indeed, they were used to being stuck at the manor. They had not left much during the last few years, since their mother’s passing. 

Isaac smiled and took a look at his three daughters. “I know. I have raised you well.”

Feyre smiled, although she had to admit that her heart wasn’t in it. Everything had been off since their mother died. As she looked at her sisters, she could feel it. They were both hiding something, although she had no idea what. Nor did she care to find out, since she was hiding a secret of her own. She couldn’t wait until her father left so that she could go into town and play cards with the locals. 

Once they were done, they all rose from the table and saw Isaac outside, where Edward was waiting with a packed carriage.

Isaac kissed each of his daughters goodbye before he closed himself inside and was off, nothing more than a shadow being erased by the growing distance. 

~~~~~

“You have a girl, don’t you?”

Azriel froze where he sat atop his bed. “What?”

Cassian nodded to the pen and paper in his lap. “You’re writing to someone often. I assume it’s a woman.”

“Ah,” Azriel chuckled, glancing down at the ‘E’ written on his otherwise blank sheet of paper. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“A fling?” Cassian asked, kicking off his muddy boots and plopping down on his cot. “Or someone you intend to marry?”

Azriel took a moment to think about it before responding to his roommate. “She is the love of my life.”

“Congrats, mate,” Cassian said, wholeheartedly. He had grown to like Azriel within the recent weeks, since they had become roommates in the servant wing. Azriel was quiet, but he was kind and held no judgement. Cassian tried his best to be the same toward him. 

“What about you?” Azriel asked. “Is there a girl for you?”

Cassian chuckled and shook his head. “No. Just my mother and sister back home. I write to them often, although i haven’t heard from them yet this week.”

“Oh?” Asked Azriel. “How old is your sister? Where do they live?”

“An hour’s ride south,” Cassian began. “I grew up in a small village there. My sister just turned seventeen. She has her eye on one of the local farmer’s sons. Although, if you ask me, he’s not worthy of her one bit.”

Azriel chuckled. “No? Why not?”

“I knew the guy, growing up,” Cassian explained. “I know too much about him, if you know what I mean. He’s been with too many women. Loves himself too much.”

“And your sister?”

“Kind,” Cassian explained. “But can take care of herself. Stubborn, just like my mother. Has very strong opinions, which many think women shouldn’t have, but I beg to differ. I grew up in a home full of strong-willed women, and wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

“What about your dad?” Azriel asked, writing on his sheet of paper as he spoke. 

Cassian took a moment to answer, realizing he and his roommate had never had a truly deep conversation before. “He left when my sister was young. He was a prick, horrible to my mother. I was eight when he left, but I was glad.”

Azriel nodded, but didn’t reply.

Cassian watched as Azriel wrote his letter to his lover. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Azriel laughed, short and quiet.

“Your family?”

Azriel took such a long time to reply that Cassian almost thought he hadn’t heard.

“I was abandoned as a child, adopted by an older couple. Diana and Renald. Diana was kind, but she was terrified of Renald. As was I.” Azriel talked slow, as if finding it difficult to remember. “He was an ass. He instantly knew I was different, knew of where I had…” Azriel paused, as if having trouble finding the words. “Come from. He treated me the worst. Partly because of my background, I assumed, and partly because I was the only other male. He...abused me. Often. And I ran away the moment I could, promising Diana that I would earn enough to get her free of Renald someday. That I am still working on. But I shall get there, soon. Diana writes to me often.”

Cassian cursed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Azriel shrugged, not taking his eyes off the letter he was writing. “That’s life.”

Cassian supposed so. Although if that was life, he was certain that life was not fair. He thought to Lady Nesta, when he had escorted her the week before. She had given herself to a man who thought nothing of her, then left her completely alone in their holier than thou circle. Cassian firmly believed that life was not fair, and only they had the power to change such a thing.

“Do you enjoy working here?” Cassian asked.

Azriel took a moment to think. “I would not trade this experience for the world.”

Cassian nodded, remembering his night a week before with the Lady Nesta.

“The Archeron sisters are an interesting trio, aren’t they?”

Cassian swore Azriel tensed, but then his roommate nodded.

“Yes,” Azriel said, quietly, folding his sheet of paper into a neat square. “They are.”

~~~~~

Feyre tugged on her trousers and waistcoat before tucking her long hair into a newsboy hat. The boots in the bottom of the chest at the foot of her bed slipped on easily.

After one last look in the mirror, Feyre stuck her head out of her door to make sure the halls were clear. Once she decided it was safe, she hurried down the hall and down the main stairway. Once she had reached the floor, she tiptoed into the sitting room, toward a side window, where she could slip out and easily reach the ground, knowing to keep it cracked so that she could get back in later.

But she didn’t open it. Just as she was about to, she froze.

Just outside was Elain, hurrying away with a tall, dark haired man, hand in hand.

She was smiling. 

It wasn’t until the man turned to look down at Elain that Feyre recognized him.

Before Feyre could fully process what she was seeing, she was running back up the staircase, straight to her eldest sister’s room.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books​ @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth​ @queenofillea1​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @levivlio​ @hellolenas​ @burritowithfeels​ @that-other-pineapple​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @raghad-50725 @musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld​ @negativenesta​

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #elriel #nessian #feysand #r&r #tara writes

[minmotl]

Chapter 43: Sui Zhou Takes Care of a Sick Tang Fan

Context: A partial continuation of Chapter 42. Tang Fan is still trying to recover from his cold, and his new acquaintance Wang Zhi turns up at the house to visit him. Sui Zhou leaves them both alone in the room to talk, and Wang Zhi ends up in a compromising position with Tang Fan, much to Sui Zhou’s displeasure. His cousin turns up again and this time, he rejects her firmly.

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Wang Zhi approaches him without him realizing it and with one hand, he lifts Tang Fan’s jaw up, looking from left to right.

“Speaking of which, you are rather good-looking in certain aspects. If you can’t be an official anymore in the future, just head to the streets and sell your books and I suppose with many women, old and young, visiting your stall, your business will surely be good!”

Tang-daren can no longer resists and rolls his eyes in a way that is anything but elegant, “If that day comes, I will definitely head to the doors of the Western Depot and sell my books there!”

Just as he finishes saying his piece, they hear the doors creak open.

Sui Zhou is holding onto medicine when he walks in and coincidentally sees Wang Zhi positioned slightly over Tang Fan, one of his hands pinching at Tang Fan’s jaw. This forces Tang Fan to have to raise his head a little, but he is still in a sitting position in bed wrapped in blankets — two rosy circles are visible on Tang Fan’s pale complexion because of his cough, his hair a mess and his clothes not properly worn. Both men are in close proximity to each other as well and just looking at this sight, it is easy for people’s thoughts to take a strange turn.

What’s more important is that Ming dynasty officials are not as unmanly as most people think. Among them there is no lack of manly and aggressive types with large builds, and if not for their lack of facial hair, no one would even notice.

Although Eunuch Wang doesn’t look aggressive and is more on the side of dark and gentle, but one would not use the terms gentle, weak and skinny to describe his body. To think of it, for someone who has learnt martial arts since young just like Sui Zhou, how skinny and weak can he be?

In comparison, because Tang Fan is a civil official and coupled with him being unwell, who is strong and weak is immediately clear at a single glance.

No matter who comes over and takes a look, all they will see is Eunuch Wang being overtaken by lust as he teases Tang-daren.

Under Sui Zhou’s icy, wordless glance, Wang Zhi naturally releases Tang Fan and then lightly pats at his cheek. In an overly intimate tone, he says, “I’ll come and visit you another day, rest well.”

“…”

Why does Tang Fan feel that there’s something really amiss by Wang Zhi’s tone, which could be very easily misperceived by others?

Facing Sui Zhou’s cold and powerful aura, Wang Zhi continues as if he’s not seeing any of it, “Sui-baihu is so virtuous, serving medicine and taking care of him. If this goes on, I believe Tang-daren won’t have to marry a wife in the future?”

Without waiting for Tang Fan to react, Wang Zhi laughs loudly and leaves the room in large strides.

Saying this, Wang Zhi exercised no tact and was extreme loud and arrogant. If it was anyone else today who ended up being flirted with as if he was a woman, comparing a grown man to a wife, he would have quickly developed a grudge for Wang Zhi. Thankfully Tang Fan hasn’t taken any of his comments to heart and Sui Zhou cannot be bothered to confront Wang Zhi about this, and so they allow the Western Depot’s Admiral to leave as he pleases.

The one who’s down on his luck is Tang-daren.

The moment Wang Zhi leaves, he’s lectured at. Sui Zhou says with a cold look, “Wang Zhi is temperamental and morally ambivalent. It’s not worth it to be in a close relationship with him.”

Although Tang Fan agrees with his appraisal of Wang Zhi, he still says, “He is an extremely favoured eunuch to the Emperor at present and this will not change any time soon. Stern, considerate and firm officials like Huai En are lesser in numbers and the type that the Emperor likes is still those like Liang Fang, Wang Zhi and Shang Ming, those who can welcome and cater to his views. So even if it’s not Wang Zhi, it will also be Li Zhi, Zhang Zhi… As long as we are able to subtly guide him onto the right path and drive him to act in the interests of the country and its people, this is considered a good thing.”

Seeing that Tang Fan’s thoughts are clear on this, Sui Zhou does not add on. He shifts the medicine in front of Tang Fan.

Forcing a smile, he says, “You see, can we negotiate a deal on this? I’m almost recovered, can we just skip this round?”

That’s what he says, but in reality, he’s still sniffling.

Sui Zhou is straightforward and simply returns, “Are you going to drink this yourself, or do you want me to feed you?”

Without another word of protests, Tang Fan takes the bowl from him and swallows the medicine while pinching at his nose. His brows and eyes are scrunched up tightly together and even when Sui Zhou passes him an osmanthus sweet, he blearily waves his hand, not interested at all.

Gluttons may love to eat, but this does not include medicine.

Sui Zhou’s three-sectioned house is actually not small at all, but aside from himself, Tang Fan and Ah Dong, there are no frequent visitors. The help that cleans the house are temporary workers and they typically have their own lodgings within the city. After they’re done with cleaning they head home without imposing any further on their employer, so much so that Sui Zhou does not even have a steward to watch the house or their doors. The master of the house has to personally open the doors, but this way, they have more freedom. For people like Sui Zhou and Tang Fan who do not like restrictions or burdens, they do naturally prefer not to see outsiders move around every day in the house under their eyes.

After Sui Zhou leaves, he does not come in again. Tang Fan finds this a little strange, but then he sees Ah Dong sneak in suspiciously.

Tang Fan laughs, “Would I ban you from my room? Why are you acting like this?”

Ah Dong giggles, “Sui-dage’s cousin from the Zhou family is here at our doors again.”

Tang-daren is a fully grown man and is both easy-going and direct. He does not have any grudges with Young Lady Zhou and of course, will not simply be irritated at her visit. He was a little bad-tempered that day, but that was because he had just experienced the East Palace case. Having seen so many people’s demise, people who should not have died, and then coming home to see Ah Dong and Sui Zhou chattering so happily with Sui Zhou’s cousin (it actually wasn’t all that happy, this is purely Tang-daren subjective point of view), and so he couldn’t help but feel the loneliness of a person without any friends or family inside.

That was a long time ago and Tang Fan cannot really be jealous and throw a tantrum just like a little child, even going as far as to stop his good friend from becoming close with the young lady. Listening to Ah Dong’s words, Tang Fan chuckles lazily, “Ah Dong ah, are you jealous that someone is getting close to your Sui-dage? But you’re still young, it’s not that Da-ge doesn’t want to help you, but if you like Sui Zhou, then after a few years have passed and you’ve grown, I can suggest this to your Sui-dage and see if he’s willing to take you in as a concubine. You’re only as big as beansprout right now, even if you complain to me, there’s nothing I can do!”

While Ah Dong is usually quite bubbly and cheery, but she is after all a servant who was born in a big house and family so it’s impossible for her not to have any knowledge about internal family affairs. Hearing Tang Fan’s reply, she launches herself at him and sulks, “Da-ge, what are you saying? I’m not jealous of Zhou jiejie, I’m worried about you!”

“What do I have to be worried about?” Tang Fan asks, bewildered.

“Think about it, if Sui-dage truly gets married to Zhou jiejie, what will you do?”

Tang Fan is usually a smart and intelligent person, but listening to this right now he’s entirely confused, “What do you mean what I will do? The things you’re saying are getting more and more incoherent!”

Rolling her eyes, she continues, “Da-ge, how did you become stupid after getting sick! If Sui-dage and Zhou jiejie get married, then she’ll definitely have to  move in correct? When that time comes, it wouldn’t be good for us to still live here, so won’t we have to move out? That’s why I’m concerned! Da-ge, it’s not you can earn a lot of money and of course I hope that we can stay here for as long as possible, and then you can save some money too!”

Don’t be fooled by Ah Dong’s young age, because she really has a knack for accounts and is making a lot of sense right now.

Tang Fan’s voice lowers, “In your eyes, your da-ge is so useless? If we move out, we have to be subject to the winds and storms?”

Ah Dong sadly answers, “Are you not? Da-ge your salary is so low and you love to eat. You eat so much everyday and can eat someone poor, so what will do in the future? The silvers for rice and noodles that you gave me, I’ve been counting our finances meticulously. Now we can still grow some fruits and vegetables in our backyard, and then buying some meat from outside, we can still save some money every month and put it away for when you marry someone. if we move out, we will surely be unable to save and then what will we do?”

Listening to this, Tang Fan wants to roll his eyes out of anger, but he is a little touched too. At the end of the day, this is the reason why she’s so concerned over whether Sui Zhou and his cousin will get married?

Tang Fan caresses at her head and firmly states, “Put your heart back in your stomach, we will not end up on the streets. Besides, even if I end up on the streets, you’ll disown your da-ge?”

Ah Dong shakes her head fervently.

“Then isn’t that settled? As long as I eat, you eat. Besides, don’t belittle the old Tang family. When my parents were still alive, the Tang family was still considered to be of elite ranks. Although we’ve fallen from the ranks a little since then, we still have a lot of good things and assets stored away as our last resort. And if that doesn’t work out, my sister lives in Xiang He Prefecture, and when the time comes we can run to her.”

He’s only saying this to reassure Ah Dong. Once his sister married someone else, she is technically part of her husband’s family and Tang Fan is an official in Jing city, so it’s not very likely that he will go to his sister’s to stay.

However, the young girl is all smiles at the news.

“Alright then, Da-ge, I won’t complain about you eating too much again. It’s still much better if you eat more. After this bout of illness, the meat on your face is almost gone, and people who don’t know might even think that you fled here as a refugee!”

Tang Fan pinches at her face, “If you continue to spout nonsense, then we don’t even have to wait for you Sui-dage to marry, I’ll be the first one to chase you out!”

As the both of them play and banter, they hear a cold voice sound from the door, “Who’s getting married?”

The both of them turn around, only to see that Sui Zhou has come to the door and conveniently heard the last part of what Tang Fan said. Behind him stands the young lady Zhou and her servant.

Sui Zhou says, “My cousin heard that you were ill and thought about talking back to you that day. She asked me to bring her here to see you and apologize as well.”

In recent years, even though there are some lines delineated clearly between men and women, it’s not as if the customs rigid to the point of no flexibility. Take Tang Fan as an example - he is Sui Zhou’s good friend and has already shown his face to Sui Zhou’s family, and Sui Zhou is also physically present in this case, so seeing young lady Zhou is not a problem. In comparison, if they were in the south, the customs and etiquette there are much stricter, while the North is a little more lenient.

Lady Zhou also doesn’t seem as prickly as that day and in front of her cousin she is the very picture of shy and demure. Anyone can see the feelings she has for her cousin, but only the cousin in question still has a stoic face on, and who knows how much he actually knows?

Tang Fan smiles, “You’re too courteous, Zhou-guniang. We didn’t know each other’s identities and that’s why we had a misunderstanding, and now that it has been resolved, everything is naturally alright. However, as I still have a cold and the air here is unclean, so I have to ask Zhou-guniang not to remain for long.”

Zhou Xiu Yue nods and then exchange a few more pleasantries with him. She is clearly not used to the medicinal smell within the house and does not even move to sit inside. Standing at the door, she says hello to Ah Dong, and then moves to leave.

As the master of the house, Sui Zhou naturally has to walk their guest out.

As they approach the main door, Zhou Xiu Yue speaks delicately, “Biao-ge, it seems that winter is soon to be upon us. Shall we find a day with good weather, and you accompany me to Yun Ju Temple to pray, how about that?”

Sui Zhou may be cold and emotionless in personality, but he is strong and heroic, exceedingly competent, humble and outstanding, and has a promising future ahead of him. The Sui family naturally sees plenty of matchmakers coming to their doors, but Sui Zhou’s parents have never been able to control their younger son’s decisions. More than that, the Sui family and Zhou family made a verbal agreement on a possible betrothal, and thus, they’ve managed to ignore the issue of his marriage temporarily.

Now, the Zhou family’s uncle has brought his family back to the city on one hand to take care of his aging mother, and on the other hand, to decide on his daughter’s marriage.

In actual fact, Zhou Xiu Yue’s father has another match in mind and the potential suitor’s father also works at Han Lin Yuan and he himself is currently studying at Guo Zi Jian. This is a born and bred academic-focused family and is wholly different from Sui Zhou, who is an Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Since the Zhou family managed to have Empress Dowager Zhou, its members began to dream of walking the civil official route, forming connections across several other influential families and move to greater heights. It is only natural that his uncle will choose this.

Of course, personally, it’s not as if Sui Zhou has to marry his cousin and no one else.

The relationship between them was formed when they were younger but stopped there. After so many years, there is no dramatic plot where he will marry no one else but her no matter what obstacles they face. The only thing is, it seem that Zhou Xiu Yue still has some unexplainable feelings for Sui Zhou and this is the reason for her repeated visits as she tried to find out what he thinks about her.

It cannot be helped that they do not think the same.

It is not easy for the woman to take the initiative and invite him, but Sui Zhou shakes his head, “I’ll pass. Tang Fan has been ill for a while and Ah Dong cannot cope, so I have to be at home to take care of things.”

Zhou Xiu Yue bites at her bottom lip, “Then I can send a servant from home to come here and take care of him?”

He refuses, his tone bland, “Forget it, you don’t have to go to the trouble. You should just go with uncle, and I hear that uncle is intent on confirming a match for you. I believe the man’s character is good. While the both of us are cousins but some lines have to be drawn still between men and women, so it is best if you visit less, lest people gossip.”

Zhou Xiu Yue’s face sours at that and she glares at Sui Zhou, before spitting, “You are truly despicable!”

She then turns and angrily walks out. The Zhou family’s servant was following behind them both and after seeing that they were speaking in hushed tones, she put some distance between herself and the cousins. All she sees right now is her mistress getting angry for no apparent reason with her sleeves rolled up, and she frantically chases after her.

Sui Zhou watches as they leave without a change in his expression, and then returns to Tang Fan’s house.

The medicine he just took has taken effect and Tang Fan is already asleep.

Ah Dong says softly, “Da-ge just fell asleep not long ago, Sui da-ge, what would you like to have for dinner? I’ll go prepare.”

Sui Zhou nods, “Anything is fine. You can just heat up the leftover porridge from earlier.”

They’ve both been busy taking care of the patient these couple of days and Tang Fan cannot have too fancy dishes, and so Ah Dong cannot be bothered to go to too much trouble either. She makes a noise of assent and heads out.

Once she leaves, all that’s left is Tang Fan and Sui Zhou in the house. One is awake and on his feet, the other is asleep in bed. It is easy to fall sick, but incredibly difficult to fully recover.

It is very quiet in the house, interrupted only by Tang Fan’s deep and long inhales and exhales.

Sui Zhou helps him to adjust the covers, then stands quietly there for a long while. Only when Ah Dong knocks on the door and calls for him to have dinner does he leave.

===

Notes:

*提督 ti du

Formally, the equivalent of this would be a admiral, but I believe in this novel it can be interchangeable with “head” or “chief” as well. A ti du is one of the highest ranks an official can have and along with the chief army commander, the admiral can possess military power.

*风吹雨打 feng chui yu da

Literally translated means wind blowing and drops of rain hitting at you - in this case, Tang Fan uses this phrase to mean being homeless, without shelter (and thus they are subject to the mights of the weather) and possibly being out on the streets.

*把心放回肚子里 ba xing fang hui du zi li

Literally translated means to put your heart back into your stomach, of which meaning is to keep your concerns and worries.

*病来如山倒, 病去如抽丝 bing lai ru shan dao, bing qu ru chou si

An idiom to describe the ease of falling sick and pains of recovery - Falling sick is akin to a mountain collapsing, but recovering from illness is as difficult and challenging as getting silk from a silkworm.

#the sleuth of ming dynasty #tsomd #tsomd novel #成化十四年 #fanzhou #fanzhou highlights #tang fan #sui zhou #HAHAHAHA once again tang fan is trying to marry sui zhou off #and sui zhou is like #ARE U KIDDING ME?! #sorry for the hiatus!! #i'm on this again hehe

[izzy-b-hands]

One Last Party

One of my last fics for Tim Weekend (I have one more for this day that I’m hoping to have finished and posted before Sunday is over!) This event has been an absolute delight, both in participating in it and reading/seeing everything that’s been made for it, and I hope we might see this event happen again in the future! I know I’d be eager to participate again!

For this fic, I went with the Queen party prompt, as I wanted a chance to get some Freddie and Tim interactions written. This was one of the first fics I wrote for Tim Weekend, and it’s dear to my heart. I hope folks will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The only major TW for this is that there is the implication of Freddie’s illness in this; it isn’t addressed directly or anything, and Tim doesn’t know of course, but he’s aware that Freddie seems a bit out of it compared to prior years. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

He doesn’t want to bother him. That above all is foremost in his mind. Freddie is an old friend, yes, but they’ve long-since fallen out of touch with each other. 

And he looks tired. 

There’s been nothing formally said as to how well or unwell any member of Queen might be, but the papers are intrusive and eager to suggest theories based on the smallest, stupidest detail. It doesn’t help that, in Tim’s experience, musicians are often horrid gossips (and he can admit that he has to include himself in that, at least sometimes.) 

He doesn’t want to make any assumptions of course, but regardless, there’s the worry that he’d only irritate Freddie if he should be feeling less-than or otherwise exhausted from the party. 

Tim has spent the party milling at the edges of crowds, talking to folks if the mood takes him. He can keep to that, happily.

Or he tries to, until a rotation around the main room of the club lands him at Freddie’s table, in a seat right beside him. 

He says nothing, sitting awkwardly to the side in the chair. Even here, the goal is to let Freddie be; let him enjoy the night. 

But Freddie turns, and his face lights up. 

“There you are! Brian and Roger said you might try and make it, but we haven’t seen you all night so we presumed the worst,” Freddie leans in so they can hear each other over the dull roar of the party-goers. 

“Dead?” 

Freddie laughs. “That you couldn’t make it. But dead would do that as well, I suppose.” 

“I’ve been here,” Tim shrugs, and tries to hide his discomfort. Why is he here? Even the people among the crowds that he knows seemed shocked he showed up. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Freddie says. “And I’m glad you made it to one of us, at least! I haven’t seen the others in a bit, but-” 

Freddie peers into the crowd in front of them, as if he might somehow see through them. But if Roger, Brian, or John are anywhere close, they aren’t within sight. 

He shakes his head. “Well. They’re off doing who knows what, who knows where. But you and I can still catch up.” 

“There’s not much for me to catch you up on,” Tim tries to laugh, to keep it lighter than how he feels. 

Freddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “If you mean in regards to your attitude, then no, there isn’t. Still self-deprecating to a fault. But if you can honestly tell me that nothing else has changed; that you’re still stuck in that dingy student flat, then we’ll leave right now and I’ll move you into someplace nicer myself!” 

There’s a glimmer of their conversations in their college days in that, and Tim lets some of the stress out of his shoulders. Freddie never did suffer fools; he’s still talking to him, so he must truly want to hear him. 

“I’ve upgraded,” Tim chuckles. “A dingy house, but it suits me and the family.” 

“Wife and kids?” 

Tim nods. “And a day job, all that. It’s horribly boring, I’m afraid. You?” 

“I doubt that,” Freddie replies, artfully dodging over Tim’s question about family. He catches a waiter walking by with a gentle touch to the elbow. “It’s rather too loud in here; is there anywhere else my friend and I-” 

Before Freddie can finish his sentence, the waiter is gesturing them up and down a set of hallways, babbling about an empty VIP space. 

The room is cozy, it could fit maybe ten people if that, Tim figures. It looks VIP as well; velvet couches and low tables and a few chairs sat far too close together. But it is much quieter, and that’s a blessing. 

“Gets overwhelming,” Freddie remarks as they sit on one of the couches, watching the waiter leave. “Doesn’t it?” 

“To me, maybe,” Tim says. “I’m not a pro at things like this like you and the other lads are.” 

Freddie snorts. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know how to handle it. Besides, being a pro at these means nothing. Less than nothing. Can you hold a drink and ramble on to some executive you’d rather not be talking to? If you can do that, you can handle a night like this.” 

“Fair enough,” Tim nods. “Still, you’ve all got more experience even with that than I-” 

“All I know right now,” Freddie interrupts softly. “Is that I’m hearing a friend talk poorly of himself for no good reason. And that’s not the conversation we should be having. How have you been? What have you kept busy with?” 

Tim hesitates to reply, but Freddie nods to urge him on. “I’m married. I already said that, but...yeah. She’s lovely, if anything, I should say I’m luckily married!” 

“We’ve all ended up with people too good for us, haven’t we?” Freddie smiles. 

“Sounds about right,” Tim lets himself sit back, and breathe. “Especially with...everything. It’s been lovely overall though; I really shouldn’t complain.” 

“Do,” Freddie instructs. “You have my permission, if it helps. We can bitch and whine to each other about things, like we used to. Just not about professors and classes anymore, is all.” 

“I might have some complaints left in me about some of them,” Tim smiles, and it’s a delight to hear Freddie laugh. He’d made this harder than it was. “No, no...ah, but like I said. Got the dear wife at home, some kids. I’ve done a lot since we last talked for any length of time, odd jobs-” 

“And music?” Freddie looks eager to hear about that. 

“Um. For fun, yeah,” Tim mumbles. “I considered myself ‘retired’, if you will, back in 1978. It’s been all TV and films and models and special effects since then.” 

Freddie frowns, but nods. “Well, I’m sure whatever you’re doing ‘for fun’ is still fantastic. And I’d love to know what you’ve worked on otherwise, maybe I’ve seen it…” 

He lets himself get into a flow with it, but then talking about work is easy. Freddie might not understand all the shop talk, but he listens intently, and grins whenever a project comes up that he knows of. 

But the topic only has so long a life, and it drops sooner rather than later. For a few moments, silence drifts over them. 

“What about you?” Tim tries again, gently. “I admit, I’ve not kept up close on everything Queen has done, so anything you say is likely new to me! And what about, you know, family and all that…” 

Freddie doesn’t look upset. But he’s studying Tim with a very certain look. Careful and serious, his eyes fixed on Tim’s. 

“To go over everything we’ve done,” he laughs softly. “That’s a lot, I suppose. I’m proud of it all, let’s say that. Even though we’ve bickered over so much of it, my god, if you could have heard us.” 

“I’d have rolled my eyes and tried to break it up?” 

“Probably,” Freddie replies with a faltering smile. “I...look. Anything more we talk about…” 

He sighs. “Privacy is important, yes?” 

Tim nods. “If you’re meaning that you don’t want anything about your life sold to any papers, you don’t need to worry about that. I wouldn’t use them as rags to clean up a mess, much less read them or give them any information about anyone.” 

Freddie perks up at that. “That’s a relief. It isn’t that I don’t trust you, or anyone-” 

“But you do have to be careful, and that means you can’t really trust anyone,” Tim interrupts without meaning to, the words flowing before he can stop them. “Or at least, you can only trust them so far.” 

Freddie nods. “You get it. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Tim says. “I wouldn’t want anyone knowing my business if I didn’t intend for them to hear it.” 

“Exactly,” Freddie says. “That said…” 

The smile is back, bright. “His name is Jim. I’m lucky beyond words to have him; I can’t begin to tell you. Not that it’s all sunshine, I mean, what relationship is, but compared to what I’ve had before…” 

“Night and day?” 

Freddie nods. “Ah. No kids, of course, unless you count the cats-” 

“I absolutely do,” Tim laughs. “We’ve had our share of pets over the years; I’m certain the wife and kids would get them out of the house during a fire before they’d drag me out!” 

“Stop that,” Freddie giggles and shoves at his arm. “They’d get you out; the real question is if you’d be like Brian and John and Roger and be running back in to save equipment and instruments.” 

Tim considers it for a moment. “I have to admit it, I might. Some of what I’ve got in the home workshop is expensive, you know. Not as irreplaceable as Brian’s guitar or anything-” 

Freddie interrupts him with a laugh. “Nothing is as irreplaceable as that. It truly is, but all the same-” 

“Brian,” they say it in one playfully disparaging voice, cracking up at the coincidence. 

“You know,” Tim sighs. “I was trying to avoid you, if I’m honest. Not out of not wanting to talk to you! But I was so afraid I’d be bothering you or wearing you out or something; that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” 

Freddie nods. “It was, but I get it. I’m not exactly charging for the spotlight myself on nights like this. People come up to me, and I’m fine to speak with most of them. Happy, even! But I’m better here, sitting back and doing something like this instead.” 

He tuts, and shakes his head. “Maybe I’m just getting old, hm?” 

“Aren’t we all,” Tim replies. “This has been lovely though. I don’t know how much longer I can stay, but if you’d like…” 

He hesitates. Maybe this is a step too far. One night of catching up, even with Freddie telling him things so personal, cannot make up for years of not having talked at all. “I’d love to meet up with you again, outside of a party, if you’re comfortable with it. We could have you and Jim over for lunch, maybe.” 

Freddie’s smile is soft, but his eyes are bright, and he seems the most genuinely happy Tim has seen him all night. At least, it reminds him of the Freddie met in college. 

“I don’t know what our schedule is like going forward,” Freddie replies. “Myself and the band, and myself and Jim, of course. But I’d like that. Let me get you my number…” 

They exchange numbers scribbled on cocktail napkins, and Tim has to bite back a laugh. Friends going back as far as college, exchanging numbers like two people in a bar not quite brave enough to just take each other home instead. 

But he thinks as Freddie helps him find the exit (“It’s a maze back here, I swear; we can’t have you getting lost!”) that he’s not been so happy at a party like that before. He had a good time; only when he was with Freddie, but still, he had a truly good time. 

The cocktail napkin is warm in his hand as he takes it out of his pocket and pins it onto the little notice board at home. Among the calendars and appointment reminder cards and everything else for the rest of the family, is something for him. 

A friend, and as he readies for bed, Tim finds himself already excited for their half-planned lunch. 

#text post #LeeH writes #staffellweekend2021 #queen band fic

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Everyone goes to Carp Tower, only for more questions to be raised.

It became a game of sorts for Wei Wuxian to make what he appeared to believe was an outrageous demand and see if Lan Wangji would give in. Most of the time, he did. There was no harm in letting Wei Wuxian swallowing as much spice as he pleased, as long as nobody else took from his bowl (Nie Huaisang did sometimes, on a dare, and always regretted it). Lan Wangji simply had to request that the kitchens make the appropriate purchases, and paid for it from his own funds since it would have been inappropriate to use sect money for personal matters.

He was more cautious about letting Wei Wuxian drink, since his body was young and unused to it, but since Mo Xuanyu had not been a heavy drinker, Wei Wuxian easily reached his limit anyway. If he tried to push too far, Lan Wangji mercilessly took whatever alcohol they had around at that moment and poured it all in front of the Jingshi. 

Other things were easier. He was only too happy to let Wei Wuxian have paper and ink, or to give him access to the library whenever he wished. It was a little sad, really, that Wei Wuxian seemed to treat these very basic things as if they were unbearable whims, though after the restrictions of Yiling, it made some sense. Still, Lan Wangji had fought his own sect and been brought near his breaking point by the discipline whips for the man he loved. A little paper was nothing. 

Usually Wei Wuxian kept that game for moments when they were alone. Once or twice he slipped in front of A-Yuan who did not even notice, since he was used to asking for what he needed and getting it. It also happened once in front of Nie Huaisang who, for reasons unknown, found it impossibly funny. He grinned all the rest of that evening, while Wei Wuxian refused to meet anyone's eyes and went to bed shockingly early. 

Aside from that odd evening, Lan Wangji's happiness was near perfect. Or it would have been, of not for the presence of Xue Yang hidden away in a remote corner of the Cloud Recesses, and the worry that Jin Guangyao might find his crimes had not gone unnoticed. Over a month after returning to the Cloud Recesses, they still had not figured out how they might try to steal back Nie Mingjue’s head. 

That problem became all the more urgent when a letter arrived from Carp Tower, bearing invitations to Qin Su's birthday. 

Lan Xichen, as soon as he opened that letter, requested that the other three join him in the Hanshi to discuss the situation. They all sat around a table as they had done many times in the past month, this time with a darker mood surrounding them at the perspective of what they might not be able to avoid any longer. The invitation, after all, was not for Lan Xichen alone. Jin Guangyao had heard that Nie Huaisang was currently in the Cloud Recesses, and asked for his presence as well. More surprisingly, Lan Wangji and A-Yuan too had received their own invitations, with a reminder that Jin Rulan and Jin Rusong would be delighted to finally meet the little boy who, in a manner, was almost a cousin to them. Qin Su was a gentle woman, but also a stubborn one who did not easily give up once she had decided on something.

This demand for A-Yuan's presence made the matter more complicated. Without it, this upcoming birthday might have been the perfect chance to enter Carp Tower and attempt to retrieve the last proof of Jin Guangyao's crime. But even without needing to say it aloud, all four men agreed that they did not like to risk A-Yuan's safety.

And yet, there was an air of deep thoughts on Nie Huaisang's face as he read the invitation again and again, and it promised nothing good.

“What if…” Nie Huaisang started, only to interrupt himself to look up at Lan Xichen who, after some hesitation, sighed and nodded. Nie Huaisang too sighed, as if the encouragement displeased him, and resumed. “What if we took the invitation? All of us, Wei Wuxian passing for a servant and… and A-Yuan too.”

Lan Wangji tensed, but said nothing.

“It would give us a good excuse to go there a few days before the other guests arrive,” Nie Huaisang explained quickly, sensing that his idea was unpleasant to everyone. “Xichen will be there to help Jin Guangyao, it’s nothing out of the ordinary at this point. I’ll help Qin Su watch over the children as they play together. And so will you, Wangji, at least officially. In truth, the first chance we get of having both Qin Su and Jin Guangyao properly distracted, you and Wei Wuxian can make your way into the Fragrant Palace and see if you can figure out the secret of that mirror.”

“It is risky,” Lan Wangji noted. 

“Not so much, not with your reputation and Wei Wuxian's capacity to improvise a story. We do have other proof anyway, if it really comes to that, but we can’t lose more time, sooner or later Jin Guangyao will hear about Xue Yang, or Xue Yang himself will try to escape, and…”

“It is risky to bring A-Yuan into Carp Tower,” Lan Wangji corrected.

To his credit Nie Huaisang immediately nodded, glancing again toward Lan Xichen who placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s why I’d stay with Qin Su and the children, why Xichen would be trailing Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “I don’t want anything to happen to A-Yuan either. And if… if you refuse, I’ll understand. If you refuse, you’ll have to stay here with A-Yuan, we’ll find an excuse, say he’s unwell. It’d be too odd for you to take the invitation yet refuse to bring A-Yuan, Jin Guangyao would see it as an insult and pay too close attention to us. But I think Wei Wuxian should come either way, he’s good at figuring out how things work, if anyone can find a way to Jin Guangyao’s secret room, it’s him. You have to choose, Wangji.”

It was a cruel choice to force upon him, although at least Nie Huaisang had the kindness not to say it out loud: Lan Wangji could either keep his son away from Jin Guangyao, or he could be at Wei Wuxian’s side when he entered the house of his enemies.

“Nie xiong, are you any better at fighting than you were as a boy?” Wei Wuxian asked bluntly. “Because unless you have improved a lot in the last few years, you saying you’ll protect A-Yuan isn’t as reassuring as you think.”

Nie Huaisang pouted, which was an answer in itself.

“Nobody would dare touch A-Yuan without a direct order from Jin Guangyao, knowing he is kin to me,” Lan Xichen pointed out with great calm, “and I will not leave him for a moment. I will kill him the instant he threatens my nephew, be certain of this.”

This much Lan Wangji believed easily, just as he was certain that Nie Huaisang would throw himself between A-Yuan and danger without hesitation, even if it should cost him his life. All four of them adored that little boy, all four would do anything to keep him safe. 

Lan Wangji still felt like a monster when he gave in and agreed to take A-Yuan to Lanling. 

-

However the adults felt about going to Carp Tower, A-Yuan was delighted to be included in this trip. He was impossibly excited to start packing, and asked many questions about Jin Rusong and Jin Rulan. He was a little disappointed to hear that they were younger than him, but still seemed happy at the perspective of making new friends and visiting a new place.

The only thing that came to dampen his enthusiasm was when the adults had to explain that he would have to pretend not to be close to ‘Mo Xuanyu’ while they would be there.

“Mo gongzi will come with us, but we’re going to say he is working for me,” Nie Huaisang explained. “There are people in Carp Tower who do not like him, but we really, really don’t want to leave him alone here, so we are going to say he works for me and call him by a different name.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Yes, but it’s just for this once. It’s important, it’s very important. It has to be a secret, A-Yuan. You think you can keep the secret with us?”

“Like when I dreamed of…” he glanced toward Lan Wangji, and his voice lowered to a murmur. “The dreams of fire and the other gege?”

While Nie Huaisang nodded solemnly, Lan Wangji felt the air knocked out of him at the idea that his son and his friend had been keeping secrets from him. He could easily guess what sort of dreams would have involved fire and an unknown man, and he’d always known that A-Yuan suffered from intense nightmares for the first few years of his stay in the Cloud Recesses. But it was odd and unpleasant to think that his son might have trusted Nie Huaisang with this rather than him.

At least, when A-Yuan promised to keep this secret, Lan Wangji knew that his son could be trusted. After all, he had never once suspected that the child had any memory left of his time in Yiling.

-

It was rather awkward to arrive in Carp Tower and be greeted so warmly by Jin Guangyao and his wife, knowing they had come here for the express purpose of causing his downfall. The man seemed genuinely happy to see them, and expressed sincere concern when Nie Huaisang explained that he had come with a doctor he had hired after some health concerns in recent months.

“You do seem much better than you had been lately,” Jin Guangyao agreed, inviting them to follow him as he personally guided them to their rooms, his wife following at his side. “I thought it was only the pressure of ruling still affecting you, was there something else?”

“There was an issue with his Qi circulation,” Wei Wuxian said in a forcefully gruff voice. “He was getting close to a deviation. We’re getting that under control.”

Jin Guangyao glanced at him with a blank, polite smile. It was obvious that he was curious about this short man whose face was half hidden by bandages, but Nie Huaisang had come up with a story that his personal healer had been disfigured by an illness when he was too young to cultivate, and chose to hide. Most cultivators were uncomfortable with scars, since they were rare for them, and so it was not too outlandish that a person would rather keep them away from sight.

“Well, I’m glad to hear this,” Jin Guangyao said. “Although I wish you had told me, Huaisang. We have many healers attached to our sect, I could have found you someone from the start.”

“But I already trouble San-Ge so much!” Nie Huaisang mumbled, his voice trembling slightly. “I always trouble everyone, if I keep asking for help, one day it’ll be too much and you’ll be tired of helping and you’ll all drop me.”

Jin Guangyao frowned. “Huaisang, that”s…”

“We won’t!” A-Yuan exclaimed, grabbing Nie Huaisang’s leg and hugging it tight. “We all love you, Nie-Ge! If you’re unwell, please tell us.”

The adults around him fell into silence at this outburst. Nie Huaisang looked particularly awkward, as if unsure whether to continue his act or comfort A-Yuan by telling him he did not actually fear being abandoned. 

Standing next to her husband, Qin Su was the first to recover, smiling warmly at the child.

“Sect Leader Nie, what a delightful little boy you have,” she said. “You and Hanguang-Jun have done a great job raising such a filial son, you can be proud. I hope my son and nephew grow to be this good as well. I cannot wait for them to meet you, I’m sure the three of you will be great friends.”

“I’m very happy to meet them too,” A-Yuan politely replied, still firmly hugging his step-father’s leg. “I hope we all get along. When am I going to play with them?”

Qin Su exchanged a look with her husband, the two of them having a silent conversation before she smiled again.

“I think you and your family might want to rest a little and change after the trip,” she told A-Yuan. “Then we can all have lunch together. You will meet A-Xiao and A-Ling at that moment, and then you can play together after eating. Would that please you?”

A-Yuan nodded enthusiastically, and with some probing, finally let go of Nie Huaisang. After that it was a short trip to the rooms where they would be staying. Once there, Lan Xichen quickly changed into clean robes, washed his face from the dust of travelling, and headed out again immediately to see how he could help Jin Guangyao with organising his wife’s birthday party. He did not seem particularly happy with the perspective of being alone in his sworn brother’s company, but by his own admission, it would have been odd if he didn’t behave in this exact way. Before he left, Nie Huaisang took his hand and squeezed it in a comforting gesture, the only one they could allow themselves in front of others.

Once Lan Xichen was gone, the three remaining adults also got changed into more suitable clothes and helped A-Yuan do the same. It was then only a matter of sitting around and resting a little until the call for lunch came. Rest, however, was maybe asking too much. A-Yuan was too excited about the idea of meeting potential new friends, and the grown-ups were too nervous about their plan, so none of them really relaxed. It was a relief when at last, a servant came to tell them that lunch was ready to be served.

Whatever other misgivings he had about the situation, Lan Wangji had to admit that the encounter between the three children went well. A-Yuan, as could be expected of him, was the perfect image of politeness as he bowed before the other two, and his radiant smile appeared to daze them.

“I am Lan Yuan,” he announced. “And my courtesy name is Lan Sizhui. It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

Jin Rusong, who was still young and clearly a little shy, could only stare in apparent awe, half hiding behind his cousin. It could have quickly become a little awkward, but Jin Rulan was thankfully a bolder child and had no problem taking over the introductions for their side.

“I’m Jin Ling,” he stated. “And this is Jin Xiao, courtesy name Jin Rusong. We’re very happy to meet you.”

“What’s your courtesy name?” A-Yuan asked.

“I don’t like it,” Jin Rulan exclaimed, “so nobody can use it.”

“A-Ling, we’ve talked about this,” Jin Guangyao intervened with an awkward chuckle. “You have to tell people your courtesy name. It is not proper to force everyone to call you by your personal name.”

Jin Rulan crossed his arms on his chest. “Uncle Jiang says it’s ok. He says my courtesy name is stupid and I don’t have to use it.”

Jin Guangyao looked positively horrified by that statement, but not surprised, so Lan Wangji guessed it was not the first time they were having this argument. Of course, with Jin Rulan often being sent to spend time in the Lotus Piers, it was unavoidable that the child’s personality would be tainted by his other uncle.

“Well, I don’t mind calling you Jin Ling,” A-Yuan said. “It’s pretty. Are we going to sit all together?” He turned to his father. “Am I allowed to speak during meals here?”

“Quietly,” Lan Wangji agreed, knowing it would be hard to enforce that rule away from home and in the presence of other children who had no reason to be silent.

The meal went well, as far Lan Wangji was concerned. He was not asked to speak much, unlike Lan Xichen who found himself in deep conversation with Jin Guangyao, and Nie Huaisang who happily chatted with Qin Su about a number of inconsequential subjects. Lan Wangji, for his part, found himself exchanging many glances with Wei Wuxian who appeared deeply amused by the situation and clearly struggled not to make any comments. It said a lot about his dedication to helping that he remained silent, actually. That, or he feared that Lan Wangji would simply silence him if he said anything.

After lunch, Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen quickly excused themselves again and disappeared together. Qin Su offered that the rest of them go in the gardens so the children could play freely, and the idea was of course accepted. They all settled in a pretty corner of the vast gardens, not far from the main buildings so that servants and attendants could still easily find their mistress and ask for her input on this and that detail for the upcoming party. Nie Huaisang sat near her and happily gave his opinion here and there, as long as it was not on anything more important than floral arrangements or who could be trusted to sit near sect leader Yao and not murder him out of annoyance. Meanwhile the three children, after some initial hesitation over what games to play, were running around together quite happily.

After a while of simply being there, silent and steadfast, Lan Wangji rose from the bench on which Wei Wuxian and him were seated, and announced that he was going to retire for some meditation. Qin Su looked a little sorry, possibly because she took it as a slight against her skills as a hostess, but she did not try to stop him. It was quite well known that Lan Wangji was not a very sociable person, and hopefully she understood he had already made an effort by staying this long.

“I’ll come with you,” Wei Wuxian announced, still disguising his voice. “I have to prepare some remedies for sect leader Nie.” He bowed before Qin Su. “Madam Jin, I leave my patient in your hands.”

“And I’ll make sure he behaves,” she amiably replied. “Won’t you, sect leader Nie?”

“I’ll do my best,” Nie Huaisang laughed.

Acting satisfied with that promise, Wei Wuxian also stood up and followed Lan Wangji away from the gardens.

It would have been easy to get lost in a place like Carp Tower. Thankfully, before coming, Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang had drawn for them a rough map of the place, which Wei Wuxian had easily memorised. They started by heading out in direction of their room to avoid raising suspicion, but at the first opportunity they took a turn toward Jin Guangyao’s private residence. 

Of course as soon as it was safe to do so, Wei Wuxian started chatting. Considering how long he had managed to stay quiet, Lan Wangji could not begrudge him this. Still, he wished a different subject might have been picked. 

“Really, Sizhui?" Wei Wuxian teased. “What sort of a name is that? Did you let Nie-xiong pick that name, for it to be so dramatic?”

“I chose it,” Lan Wangji confessed, a little embarrassed. In truth, Nie Huaisang too had teased him for naming his son “to recollect and long for”, and even Lan Xichen had raised an eyebrow at it. His only defence was that he had been asked to find a courtesy name soon after the engagement had been announced, when he had only just been given A-Yuan back, so that he could be put on the official registry, and… he had not been in a very good emotional state at the time, both aching over Wei Wuxian’s death and fearing a marriage forced upon him.

Without surprise, Wei Wuxian laughed at the admission.

“Lan Zhan, you’re really too much sometimes. Poor child, did you want him so badly to someday remember where he came from?”

Lan Wangji only hummed in answer.

If Wei Wuxian wanted to believe that, he was not going to say otherwise. If the name Sizhui had been embarrassing when he had thought Wei Wuxian lost to him for ever, then it was simply shameful now that the man was back with them. Lan Wangji had tried to live without regrets since losing the man he loved, but this dramatic name might be one of the few he had.

It was a relief when they arrived near the Fragrant Palace and had to be quiet again.

The entrance was guarded of course, but it wasn’t hard to simply enter through the gardens. Clearly, the sect leaders of Lanling Jin felt confident that nobody would reach them this far inside their sect. Once inside, they had to avoid being seen by the occasional servant, but thankfully most of the staff was busy with preparations for the party. In the end, it was easy enough to find Jin Guangyao’s bedroom.

It was easy, as well, to find the copper mirror. Xue Yang had told them it was huge and ostentatious. He hadn’t lied: the mirror was a little taller than Lan Wangji, and large enough that both of them could easily stand in front of it with room to spare. Even if it had just been a mirror it would have been worth a fortune, exactly the sort of luxurious display one might have expected from the sect leaders of Lanling Jin.

Wei Wuxian got to work. Before all else, he checked for any sort of safety measures protecting the mirror, but found none. However that secret passage worked, Jin Guangyao appeared to have full trust in it being unbreachable. A trust that wasn’t unjustified because no matter what Wei Wuxian tried, he simply could not get the passage to open.

“There’s something though,” he grumbled after another failed attempt. “I can feel it. I need to think, what could be so infallible?”

Given enough time, Lan Wangji was convinced Wei Wuxian would figure it out. But time was not an endless resource, and it was getting late. They would soon need to make their exit and regroup with the others. Hopefully they would get other chances in the coming days, but it was disheartening that a solution hadn’t been found yet.

“It’s reacting to something,” Wei Wuxian muttered, kneeling in front of the mirror and pressing his hands against the surface to better feel whatever magic powered it. They would need to clean it before they left, Lan Wangji realised. “Maybe I’m not powerful enough? This body is so weak… Lan Zhan, come closer please, I want to try something.”

Lan Wangji dutiful obeyed, and following the other man’s instructions, pressed his hands against the mirror’s surface.

“Do you feel it?” Wei Wuxian asked. “It’s like a buzzing in my hands.”

“I feel nothing.”

“Really? That’s odd. I wonder…”

“What’s going on here?” asked a voice behind them.

Both men startled and turned to look at Qin Su who gaped at the sight of two strangers in her private apartments. She seemed too shocked to cry out for someone to help, but that wouldn’t last and Lan Wangji steeled himself to use the Lan silencing spell on her. From this there would be no going back. But in truth, just from having been found there, they could not back down. They needed to go inside that passage that very day, or risk giving Jin Guangyao a chance to get rid of evidence.

“Madam Jin, we have a perfectly legitimate reason to be here!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed. “Please don’t create trouble, we aren’t here to harm you!”

“Your voice is… just who are you?” she retorted. “Does sect leader Nie know about this?”

The second question was directed more at Lan Wangji who hesitated on how to answer. Lying would be wrong. Saying the truth could only be used a last resort. Stuck between two unpleasant options, he elected to simply ignore the question.

“We are currently investigating serious accusations that have been made against Lanling Jin,” he explained. “Although it is distasteful to act in shadows, the accusations are such that we could not bring them to light without proof. We believe such proof can be found in the room behind the mirror.”

Qin Su startled. “You know about that room? Who told you?”

“Considering the circumstances, Madam Jin will understand we can’t give that name,” Wei Wuxian replied. “Isn’t the fact we know there’s such a room enough to show that we aren’t here at random? And since we know about it, perhaps Madam Jin might let us know how to open it?”

“Only my husband can.”

“It is important,” Lan Wangji insisted. “We would not be here if there was another choice.”

Qin Su smiled weakly at him.

“Hanguang-Jun, you misunderstand me,” she sighed. “When I say only my husband can open this passage, I mean it. This mirror is built in such a way that it will only react to a direct descendant of its creator, who was a previous Jin sect leader.”

"Well, that's inconvenient," Wei Wuxian grumbled. "Is there really no other way…" 

"My husband once told me that even Xue Chengmei could not trick the mirror when Jin Guangshan offered him the chance to try," Qin Su explained, her smiling growing a little more confident. "Seeing as breaking and remaking artefacts was his speciality, I feel it is safe to say the mirror's magic is quite secure."

Calling this inconvenient did not even begin to cover it. Lan Wangji had no illusions about Jin Guangyao’s willingness to allow them inside. To have come so close only to fail… 

"Madam Jin, aside from this, do you know how to get the passage open?" Wei Wuxian abruptly asked. 

"I have seen my husband do it." 

"Perfect. Then show us, please."

"I've told you…" 

"Yes, yes, but… Madam Jin, you are aware that your father-in-law had many children out of wedlock, aren’t you? I happen to be one of them. And if your husband can open it, then clearly the mirror doesn't care about legitimacy, only about blood."

Qin Su paled at the reminder, her lips pinched in distaste as she tried to look through the bandages hiding Wei Wuxian's face. Lan Wangji had heard it said that, mild and even tempered as she was, Qin Su did not tolerate anyone trying to speak in her presence about her husband’s origins. She had fought her own parents about it, and it was the one issue on which she was willing to get angry.

"I suppose that's true,” she conceded, “but still…" 

"We do not ask lightly," Lan Wangji intervened. "If the situation were not so dire, we would not be here. If we are wrong, we will accept the consequences, but certain things must be verified." 

Qin Su did not look particularly impressed with that statement. Although Lan Wangji's reputation had somewhat recovered from his actions in Nightless City, it would take a while longer for people to forget he had chosen to side with Wei Wuxian that day. That he would associate himself with one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards, none of whom had ever been judged worthy of remaining in Carp Tower, could not help.

"Very well," Qin Su sighed. "For your brother's sake, because I know Zewu-Jun would not allow injustice to be carried out. But I will come inside with you. I hope you understand." 

Lan Wangji nodded, while Wei Wuxian bowed. It was already more than they would have expected. Lan Wangji wondered if perhaps the young woman was curious about this secret passage inside her home. Even this easy going woman would have had to wonder about something so mysterious.

“Move back,” she ordered, before she placed her hands on a specific spot on the mirror's frame. “Here, there is this notch here where you must press while sending an impulse of energy.” 

Committed to the task, she demonstrated the movement and the impulse while Wei Wuxian watched like a hawk, obviously fascinated by the process. When everything was over and they were freed from this investigation, Lan Wangji was sure the other man would try to recreate this technique.

“And that’s it,” Qin Su concluded. “Of course, as I’ve said, only a descendant of that Jin sect leader may do it. For anyone else, it won’t work. I suppose you’re about to see if you truly are of Jin Guangshan’s blood. Otherwise…”

To show what would happen if Mo Xuanyu’s blood wasn’t enough, Qin Su brought her hand to the mirror’s surface, ready to lean against it.

She nearly lost her balance as her hand went right through and cried out in shock, only barely managing to grip the mirror’s edge before she could fall through the passage.

#xisang #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #nie huaisang #mdzs #jau writes #burn it down au

[whattodowithkpop]

Winner Takes All [Chapter Four] (Jun and Donghun)

Title: Winner Takes All

Pairing: Jun (A.C.E) x Reader x Donghun (A.C.E)

Genre: Fluff; Slight Angst

Word Count: 8.7K Words [All Chapters]

Writer: Kpopmadness & Whattodowithkpop

******

The princess takes a deep breath as she focuses on her target in front of her, her mind swimming from the events of a few days ago. She still couldn’t decide if kissing Jun was the smartest thing she had done, or the dumbest. And she knew her family wanted her to marry. And who better to marry than Jun?

With her and Donghun’s tournament only a few days away, she knew she had to buckle down and practice. Not that much was needed to begin with. But trying to be one with her bow and arrow helped quiet her raging thoughts.

“You know, the last time i saw a women with a bow and arrow,” a familiar deep voice said from beside her, “She was crazy and was out to kill me.”

The princess rolled her eyes and turned to meet Donghun’s eyes, a cocky smile plastered on his face that made her heart flutter. Which only added to her confusion.

“Haven’t seen you in a few days.” The princess says, letting the arm that held the bow fall briefly.

Donghun shrugged, “After a joust your muscles are sore and tight. It can make you feel slightly unwell.”

The princess nodded but thought he didn’t particularly look sick.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She said cooly. Then decided to add, “Just out of curiosity, has anyone ever taught you bedside manner?” She shot at him playfully before turning her attention back to the target, which consisted of a hay-bail with red paint on it.

She had just drawn back the bow string when Donghun answered nonchalantly, “Manners i’ve never really mastered.”

There was a pause, making the princess assume he was done talking as she pulled a little tighter on the string.

“But manners in the bedroom i have mastered.” Donghun whispered in her ear.

The princess let out a small screech as her arrow went flying and completely missed her target and landed on the ground several feet away. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her.

She turned on her heel to face him, mad he had messed up her aim. Her face flushed red when she realized how close he was to her. His face was only inches from hers, his breath could be felt fanning down her neck.

“Did i scare you, princess?” He asked, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

The princess meant to pull away, but something kept her grounded in place. His dark eyes seemed to hold a hypnotizing affect to them. She found herself resting a hand on his broad chest as he placed both his hands on her hips.

“Tell me something princess,” Donghun says quietly as he brings his head down closer to her. His nose starting to trace down her neck gently causing her to grip his shirt tightly and a shiver to go down her spine.

“Do I intimidate you?” He whispers, his mouth grazing her skin as he talked.

“Intimate isn’t exactly the right word.” The princess answered breathlessly. A part of her mind screaming at her to pull away but the other half begging her to stay.

“Then what is the right word?” Donghun asks, his eyes meeting hers as his hands wrap around her a little tighter.

“Intrigue is a start.” She answered, meet his eyes evenly but feeling her face warm.

Donghun’s lips quirk up into a smirk before stepping away from her. The distance made the princess realize she had been holding her breath.

“I think our little game will prove to be very interesting.” Donghun states as he turns and walks away, leaving her heart pounding in her chest and her head light.

~~~

The day of the tournament arrived. With people crowding the bleachers to watch the game between knight and princess.

The princess searched the bleachers for Jun but felt her heart sink upon not seeing him anywhere.

Not seeing Jun worried her, she had  hoped to talk to him before the match. But she was forced to push those thoughts from her mind and focused on the tournament.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The announcer called loudly to the crowd, getting their attention. "The royal family would like to welcome you and thank you for coming to this sudden archery match."

The crowd let out a cheer, making the princess smile slightly. She caught Donghun staring at her from the corner of her eye. Making her stand up straighter. Her dark dress was accompanied by a black leather corset that was tied securely around the outside of her dress. Causing it to highlight the curve through her waist and hips. Suddenly her choice of fashion felt like a mistake with Donghun being there.

"Our princess was challenged by the winner of our recent jousting contest." The announcer continued, "Shall we see the noble knight put back in his place?"

The crowd let out a loud cheer in response, making it Donghun's turn to smile.

"Your people love you." Donghun said, coming to stand beside her.

The princess gave him a smile, "Be gentle on me then. I would hate to have them riot and send you to jail for beating me."

Donghun gave her a wink before bending down and kissing her hand, "No promises, princess." Then he walked off a few feet from her to take up her bow and arrows.

The white flag dropped, meaning the tournament had begun. The princess was the first to go. She steadied her breath as she drew the bow back and took her aim. The noise of the crowd and Donghun's teasing eyes dropping away from her focus until she saw only the target. When she let go of the string it grazed her cheek gently before the arrow was sent souring through the air and hitting a perfect bullseye.

The crowd cheered and Donghun  clapped his hands as he called, "Not bad, princess."

She put her bow down and watched his turn. His shoulders were strong and his hand steady as he pulled the bow string back until it couldn't go back any further. His blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun again, his dark, sharp eyes focusing on the target in front of him.

When he let go he also hit a perfect bullseye the princess couldn't help but smile. She had shot arrows with others before but none were quite as good of shots as he was.

"Not bad." She called back to him, still smiling.

Donghun smiled at her widely before stating, "One round down, ten more to go."

The rounds went on and on for some time. Each the princess and Donghun had three arrows to shoot if they missed their target with the first arrow. Then they were required to walk across and get their shot arrows and bring them back to their original position.  At one point when they went to get their arrows the princess was walking slightly ahead of Donghun when she felt a few of his fingers brush against her lower back, making her back arch slightly.

The last round arrived, this time the target was placed even further away, making it harder. This was the round the princess had been treading, she was a good shot up until the target go too far away. Then it was much harder for her.

She shot her three arrows but only one landed near the center. Meaning she was the winner unless Donghun got a perfect bullseye. Donghun drew his bow string back and shot off the first two arrows, both missing the target. The princess held her breath as he drew the last arrow. The crowd went silent as well, holding their breath.

Then the arrow flies through the air, time seems to slow as the princess watches it land and hit the target. A perfect bullseye.

The crowd is silent for a moment before cheers erupt and the princess feels herself shaking her head but smiling. Donghun sets his bow and arrow to one side before walking over to her,

"Remember our deal?" He asks, a smirk on his lips.

"Yes. Looks like I have a dinner date tonight." She says, her voice staying cool.

Donghun smiles down at her, his eyes boring into hers as he says evenly, "You're mine for the night."

~~~~~~

The night is cool as the princess walks  up the steps of the house that had been turned into a place for occasions such as these.  Her hair had been pulled back neatly accompanied with star like glitter decorated through her light colored hair. Her red dress sparkled in the candle light as she stepped into the royal house. She still searched for Jun in the crowd even though before she had gotten ready her father had told her he wouldn't be able to make it.

She didn't have time to dwell on it long, because she felt a hand take her arm as a voice said beside her, "You outdid yourself for me, princess."

The princess turned to see Donghun in a red tunic that matched her dress. A assortment of star like glitter had been applied in a trail up her neck and littered through his pulled back medium length hair.

The princess had to shake her head a little to clear her wondering thoughts before answering, "I made a deal with you. I may as well look good keeping my deal."

Donghun smirked sinfully at her, showing white teeth behind his full lips. Making the princess's heart flutter in her chest slightly. Jun forgotten.

Donghun held out his arm to her, which she took just as the bell rang calling the guests in for dinner. Donghun pulled her chair out for her and then sat down beside her. Their table was a few feet away from the rest of the guests and they were the only ones at the table. Since they were the honorary guests. Which for some reason made her feel nervous and she was glad when the food starting to be served to occupy her mind.

As dessert was served the princess sat back in her chair slightly and watched as the rest of the guests continued eating and chatting happily.

"You know," Donghun whispers in her ear, making her jump. "You really are a good shot. I was very impressed."

The princess turns to meet his eyes, his face only inches from her. "You impressed me also." She continues honestly, "I've seen few people with only a few years of practice be as good a shot as you. But i shouldn't be so surprised. You do joust after all."

Donghun nods his head before scooting his chair a little closer to her as he says, "Jousting has a certain amount of aim to it. So when i took up archery it just felt natural to me."

The princess nodded her head in response. She couldn't stop herself from blurting out, "And your prize with jousting is probably much better than your prize has been for winning an archery contest."

Donghun quirked an eyebrow as he ran a few fingers down her arm and asked deeply, "Why would you assume that?"

The princess sucked in a breath when his hand continued down her arm until it hit her thigh. His fingers tracing patterned on her dress. His touch surprisingly sparking a feeling in her chest. A feeling that she wanted him to keep touching her. She ran a finger across the back of his hand, her touch making him tense slightly.

"I am only yours for the evening. What's the benefit in that?" She asked.

Donghun smirked at her as he rubbed his had down her leg. "Oh Princess, you think so little of me."

The princess met his eyes as she asked breathlessly, "How so?"  Her heart pounding in her chest.

Donghun had slowly been wadding her dress up until he came to the end of the dress and his fingers touched her bare skin. The princess let out a small gasp but kept her eyes locked with his.

"Trophies are only material things. They can be lost or stolen. But since i met you and saw you drive a dagger between  a fellow knights fingers, i knew you would be the greatest prize. One that i have come  to value more than any golden trophy."

The princess let out a breath when his hand squeezed her thigh lightly making her breath hitch.

"Donghun..." She said between breaths, her tone meaning to be a warning but coming out a whimper.

"Princess..." Donghun whispered deeply, his breath fanning across her neck.

The princess smirked and took the hand that he had on her thigh and let a few fingers trace up his sleeve, her nails lightly digging into his arm and down to his palm, making him suck in a breath as his eyes went glassy.

"You're awfully good with your words, sir knight." She whispered, using his formal title.

Donghun opened his mouth to reply when music started playing, making all the guests stand up and circle around the large dance floor.

Donghun pulled his hand away from her and stood up, extending his hand again as he asks, "Dance with me?"

The princess smiled, her face still felt hot from seconds ago but she stood on shaky legs and took his hand as he lead her to the dance floor. The music started to play an upbeat tune as everyone fell into place. Donghun placed a hand around her waist and held her close against his body as they spun around the dance floor. Time forgotten in that moment as it began to feel like just the two of them on the dance floor.

Donghun led her through two dances before he stopped, the music fading. His face was red and his eyes sparkled as he put a hand under her chin and leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. His lips warm and soft against her cheek. His action making  a few gasps come from on lookers. But as he pulled away slowly his dark eyes meet hers, what people thought didn’t seem to matter.

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

MAIN MASTERLIST

#ace #ace jun #ace junhee #ace donghun #ace x reader #axe jun x reader #ace junhee x reader #ace donghun X reader #ace imagines #ace fanfictions #ace fluff #ace angst #ace kpop #a.c.e #a.c.e jun #a.c.e junhee #a.c.e donghun #a.c.e x reader #a.c.e jun x reader #a.c.e junhee x reader #a.c.e donghun x reader #a.c.e imagines #a.c.e fanfictions #a.c.e fluff #a.c.e angst #a.c.e kpop #kpop #kpop fanficiton #fanficiton #whattodowithkpop writings

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

[Vyntober- Day 2]  The Dreams

@vyntober​ ~ Began again the Dreams, those which proceeded their survival; their seeming victory.  This series; it was a repetitive thing, that each time, the Dreamer could feel herself grow more and more lucid within, yet prove just as powerless as the first time to achieve anything that may alter the conclusion. 

It started from the Sea, and from those waters rose creatures. These creatures strove to fly without wings, and no matter how hard they tried, no matter how many of their own they had to claw through and climb over, never would the sky welcome them… Not until their brazen need rent the sky in twain, and those of the Sea reached down in all their glorious light to reclaim their game pieces-  to reset the board, to begin again.

The Cycle.~

Again those words sounded through her mind as she felt her body begin to burn, the dry, wheezing screams of millions raising into a deafening chorus as, without words or cause, she felt blame for their agony; this chaos, this destruction, this feast- it was -her- doing.  

Rationality knew no home in this nightmare as heat and sound grew to an unbearable tenor, her eyes afire as all that she was and would ever be was consumed, the skies above a jarring, violent blood red that twitched and writhed with an inane life all its own. 

A maw opened, a rippling void- it was hunger insatiable… and yet, as it closed around her, still she screamed louder than it did, till her lungs gave out and with them, all became colder than ice. She was gone…  All of them were gone…To the Sea that would again birth them, as it ever had, as it always would, to repeat this awful process.

“Lithirill...”  

A voice.  Familiar.  Out of the void and always when she needed him most. She strove to focus through the dark, reaching with fingers she no longer had. Every time this conclusion came, it felt like it pressed harder, holding her here longer- as if perhaps the intent was to wait here forever. Her part played… Sleep… Until again you dance on our strings…~

Without eyes, she could swear she saw someone… Some-thing- move, darker still than the void around her, disturbing the growing peace. She thought to chase it- 

“-Lithirill-!” 

The name, and the voice that barked it, pulled her from the abyss with all the effect of the drowning coming up for air.  She barely registered his grip around her arms, unable to know that he hadn’t been pulling her up, but holding her down, the covers of her bed bundled at her feet and some items from her nightstand now scattered about the floor a show of how she’d thrashed.

Hues of peridot snapped open as she took in gulps of air, her head dizzied and her chest pounding with a burning ache like she’d been holding her breath all too long.  

She heard a quiet sigh of relief through teeth as the grip around her arms loosened, the figure lowering to his knees in the dark.  The only part of him that was clearly discernible in the dim moonlight filtering through the windows was his eyes; luminous golden orbs whose own light only highlighted the barest hints of his cheekbones and nose, errant black strands dangling free to occasionally break up the image.  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  he murmured, his tone and cadence gentle, but betraying his usual stoic coyness; he sounded worried.  Did he know of what she was seeing then?  

Sitting up properly, arms still warmed by his touch reached out to claim her sheets and drag them up around her bare chest as she settled her breathing. Slender fingers raised to rub at her eyes, a displeased short groan escaping as she felt them slip on what had most certainly been tears. How embarrassing. 

“Arkt...Good morning…” Lithirill managed, her wrist flicking in a half-wave as her free hand flopped down over her covered, crossed legs. “However did you get inside at this hour?”  

Not that she could actually tell what time it was, but judging by the dimness of the light outside, it certainly wasn’t day. It was a subconscious comfort then, that she hadn’t woken to this oppressive dark by her lonesome.  

‘If I would’ve woken at all…’  the thought snaked into her mind unbidden and she flinched at the irrationality of it.  

Arkt watched every movement, able to see far better than she could as his clothing rustled with his movement to stand. Saying nothing, he would stride to a shelf and pass his palm over a crystalline shape, the spark of energy leaping as expected into the crystal and producing a bright enough glow to see clearly by.  

As the room filled with blue-white light, Lithirill felt her heart lurch, reminded all too much of the color her skin had become as it burned in the dream, hearing a thrumming noise inside her ears; slow and droning and constant. 

A sharp snap yanked her back to reality, her wandering eyes looking again to Arkt, who loomed over her from her bedside, his fingers hovering in the air as they briefly curled into a loose fist, before the arm relaxed to his side. 

His eyes were intense now, boring right through her attempt to shimmy away from his initial question, trapping her in a gaze that had ever tightened her throat in what few times she’d seen it. 

“You are obviously unwell. You -know- where I reside, I could have helped.”  

Was that a tremble in his voice? Was he actually angry at her? 

There was so much she couldn’t tell behind that bloody mask of his, and the nuances of emotion in a universally calm voice were ever so difficult to pick up, even when she wasn’t sleep deprived by newly chronic nightmares. 

Mustering a half-hearted look of indignation in hopes it would give her the strength to explain herself, she cradled her chin in her free hand as she glanced up at him with apologetic eyes. 

“-You- told me that you would need time, Arkt. To adjust to peace? To come to terms with…-Everything-?” she mused, trying to resist the need to clear the cobwebs from her throat, unsuccessfully as she coughed sharply and heaved a sigh, “It’s barely been a fortnight, I hardly felt myself welcome as of yet to intrude on your new life. Whatever happened to sending me an invitation?”  

The ancient seraph was not having it. He didn’t doubt for a moment that her concerns were genuine, but his very presence was proof enough she might’ve considered reaching out to him regardless-  whatever she had been seeing in her dreams was loud enough about it to be sensed, with strength enough to call him here on pure instinct. 

He had felt some notion of foreboding for a few days concurrently, but when he was hearing her screams in his own rest, as if something meant to weaponize it against him, it was beyond time to check in. It was all as new to him as it was to her, considering certain details of his past he hadn’t volunteered- but he still strove for the composure she was accustomed to as he responded.

Once again ignoring the dismissive tone in her last words, he simply rested back on his heels. 

“A statement I would’ve made differently had I known you would avoid seeking aid when you needed it, Lithirill. These are not any ordinary nightmares you’re having if I could feel them too… and something tells me from the sleeplessness of your posted guards and the amount of lights still on in the dark of the eve that you are not the only one suffering them...in some fashion or another.” 

She took what pleasantries she could from his words, the simple sound of his voice most of all, shutting her eyes as he spoke. When he had finished talking, she shifted in her bed, tilting her head at him, sending raven half-curls tumbling over her shoulder as she squinted at him. 

“So much known about my new castle and its denizens…and -feeling- my -dreams-?” she mused, eyeing him up and down,  “Are you spying on me, Arkt? How very risque.” 

A brief furrow and raise of his brow suggested she not make this a laughing matter, choosing next to look anywhere but the coiled, nude minx in her bed eyeing him most lasciviously. The lengths this woman went for avoidance’s sake… He suspected she’d try even his nerves eventually. Observing the room, she boasted a rather spacious castle floor entirely to herself, yet she’d not furnished her bedroom with any manner of chair. Unsurprising…  What he knew of her, she probably felt the bed was where to put guests. His eye twitched at the wandering of his mind at that notion as he shook his head like some great annoyed beast, earning a chuckle from his undressed company. 

“Look, you’re here now. I’m not going to rebuke you, and your concern is incredibly touching. If you don’t mind, you can wander out into the hall there and find a seat. I’ll dress myself properly, prepare some tea, and we can talk. Alright?”  Lithirill had leaned back, pulling her sheets completely around her shoulders as to not continue making a lure of herself to a man who was -not- going to respond. The only hint of her sly jabs to remain was in her thin, raised brow. 

Shifting his posture, she could see the lower edges of his mask sway as he exhaled a hard sigh through his nose and nodded. 

“As you wish.”  he answered, turning from her bedside and making his exit. 

Lithirill felt no shame in leaning well to her left as she watched the long-of-limb seraph stride away, a secretive half-grin on her face as she bit the inside of her cheek, eyes fluttering to her ceiling before clicking her tongue and shaking her head. A moment of indulgence taken, now to more important matters. 

Dreams with the power to summon a concerned shadow…The beginning of a new story, she suspected, and all too early considering the rest she felt she had earned…but such was “Godhood”, she supposed.~

#Vyntober #Vynblr #Enderal #Nehrim #Fic #Tel'lmaltath #Lithirill Andethil #Arkt

[harry-leroy]

Can I bend the rules for the AU fic list? If so, how about George and Dwight with 1 (sick/injured) and/or 3 (amnesia) Thank you! : D

Yes you totally can!! I’m so sorry that this took a million years to get around to - as you probably all know, I’m terrible about answering asks in a timely manner. But this was a lot of fun to write! It’s somewhere post S5 - not exactly sure where though hehehe. Leaving under a cut for some angsty things - but everything’s all good by the end:) So stay tuned for some good old fashioned hurt/comfort ❤️

When George awoke, his vision sparkled and thinned, tunneling as he stared upwards into ornate, gilded designs. He was exhausted, far too tired now to fall back asleep. Before he could say anything, he felt a cold cloth on his forehead. There was also a gentle tug at his wrist, but he could not be bothered to look around at anything other than the ceiling.

Dwight sighed in relief. George’s pulse was quite normal again. It had been a difficult few nights at Cardew battling a fever this high, and seemingly with no cause. The good doctor had assured Cary Warleggan that there was no need for fear as George battled his fever; he did not fear death would result in the fight. However, Dwight was concerned as to what led to the man’s suffering and delirium. He had begun to consider George as a friend, and a dearer one than he might have expected at that. It pained him to see any man suffer, but all the more because it was George Warleggan.

George began to hear sounds, the semblances of voices. He felt his breath catch and a chill break down his spine.

“George?” He saw a face that looked like Dwight’s right above him. He felt a hand on his forehead now. “George? Can you hear me?”

* * *

It was another several hours before George opened his eyes again. This time he felt considerably more rested, though still having to take a few minutes to register his surroundings as real and consequential rather than figments of his imagination. The voices returned, but this time he could attach people to them. Real people.

“Was he doing anything strenuous before his fever began?” Dwight asked, his voice quiet from where George was. “Did he seem alright? No mention of-“

“No,” Cary cut him off. “No mention of her. He’s rid of her now,”

Dwight took a moment and caught his place against Cary’s quick counter.

“Still,” he said. “A great amount of bank work? A problem with the mine?”

“Nothing more than usual,” Cary said. “What are you suggesting? That this was caused by something... in the head?”

“I’m not sure,” Dwight said, glancing at George. It was then the good doctor realized that George was awake, and looking quite curiously at them. “Oh, Sir George,”

As Dwight rushed to his patient’s side, George made a weak attempt to prop himself up on his elbows.

“Where am I?” He asked. “What’s happened?”

“You should lie back down, nephew,” Cary said, lingering behind Dwight at a much slower pace. “You’ve been unwell,”

“Unwell?” George looked at Dwight. “What does he mean?”

“There is nothing to worry about, rest assured,” Dwight said. “Just a fever. You seem to be on the mend,”

George made a small noise, something like an acknowledgement, and lied back down on the pillow.

“Um,” George began. “How long?...”

“A few days,” Dwight said. “You collapsed on the floor after supper on Thursday evening. I was sent for immediately,”

“And today is?” George asked.

“Monday,” Dwight said, placing another gentle hand on his patient’s forehead. “Your fever seems to have broken. I should like you to rest a day or two more before resuming your activities as normal, but you should make a full recovery,”

“Do you have a day in mind?” Cary asked.

“We shall see how he feels tomorrow,” Dwight said. “But I should like him to stay in bed today, in case something were to happen,”

The doctor then turned back to George, gently taking his wrist again to check his pulse. He did not seem overly concerned until his brows knitted, as if he had remembered something.

“Sir George,” Dwight began. “Do you recall how you were feeling on Thursday? Do you recall any of the day at all?”

George blinked, trying to access his memory, but frustratingly, to no avail. He merely shook his head.

“What is the last thing you remember?” Dwight asked, still keeping calm with his voice, which was a great comfort to both George and Cary.

It took George a moment to think before it came to him, almost as hazy as the images he had seen in his heated delirium.

“Valentine,” he said. “Saying goodnight,”

“So nothing of Thursday at all?” Dwight asked.

George did not say anything. He could not begin to think of what Thursday was even meant to look like. He very suddenly wanted to see his children, but he could not bring himself to speak and ask for them.

“Did he meet with anyone on Thursday?” Dwight asked Cary. “Any engagements? Did he seem off?”

“He looked alright to me,” Cary said. “His collapse was quite a surprise to say the least,”

Before Dwight could respond, George spoke.

“Where are my children?” he asked. He seemed unsure of himself, unsure of his surroundings. He seemed to be looking in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh, um,” Cary began, quite certain that George must have been out of his wits again. “Do you really want them now?-“

“I’m sure they are not far away,” Dwight assured his patient. “Would you like to see them?”

Cary gave Dwight a look, one of a slight indignation for letting his own command slip, but Dwight merely smiled politely, then turned back to his patient.

“Oh, could I?” George asked. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen them,”

“Of course,” said Dwight as Cary gave a small huff, beginning to retreat away. Dwight watched him go, nearly amused (now that George was feeling much better and sure to recover fully) that Cary was still so hesitant to let Dwight have free reign over his treatment of George. However, he could not say that he blamed the man after what George had been through in the past. If that had happened to any relation of his, he would have never trusted another doctor again.

Once the doctor and his patient were alone, Dwight felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned around and knelt down. George took an excited breath in, his eyes lighting up with a kind of clarity.

“It was my children, you see,” he said. “I was so worried. About Valentine. He’s to go off to school in a week’s time. It’s the first time he’s been away for that long since... well...,”

“Go on,” Dwight urged, his voice still calm.

“You see,” George took a gentle hold of Dwight’s forearm, as if that would help him have strength to remember what was on his mind. “I never understood it. With Geoffrey Charles. Sending him to Harrow. But that’s because he isn’t... mine. I should have... listened. To her,”

“I understand,” Dwight said.

“It was almost as if,” he began, showing a slight hesitation before beginning again, “as if she was saying that she was right. I wondered if she... was angry. Resentful,”

“She could never be resentful,” Dwight said. “She loved you. And were she here today, she would feel that same pain you feel in losing Valentine. But he will come home again. He will have made friends, and learned much, but he will always be yours,”

“And hers,” George said, almost as though it were an afterthought.

“Yes,” Dwight said. “You must be strong for him. I’m sure he is just as nervous,”

George nodded.

“You’re right,” he said. “I will be. I must be,”

“Only after you’ve had a few more days to recover,” Dwight smiled. “Even though you are on the mend, I am still worried that your mental state was enough to bring you to this,”

“Was it that awful? My fever?” George asked, slightly worried that he had inconvenienced Dwight, no matter how silly that notion was.

“It is nothing you need to worry about,” Dwight said. “I am glad you told me what was on your mind,”

There was presently giggling that came from the closed door to the room. It opened to the sight of an exasperated Cary leaning over a tall boy and trying to hold the door. The boy ran in with as much excitement as Dwight had seen when George recovered from his last great illness, followed by Bessie carrying a little girl that was almost too big now to be carried. He smiled.

“Papa!”

#thank you so much for this! #i hope you enjoy ❤️ #basically i love george and dwight with my whole heart #this probably isnt even canon compliant but i dont care hehehe #otp: i was there #brotp: i was there #dwight enys #george warleggan #cary warleggan #poldark #poldark fic #my fic #poldark au #poldark s5 #ticketybooser #hope you’re doing well hun!

[jjba-arni-reblog]

Tranquillity

Next prompt for Diego’s week that me and @giogio-gucci-gangstar are doing together. 

This was my favorite one as I felt very inspired by it and had a great time writing it.

Warnings: Spoilers for Steel Ball Run, angst.

Loudness.

Loudness was the only thing occupying Diego’s mind. The sound of the leaving train, flesh, birds that now suddenly became interested in the young man, staying somewhat close to Dio but with a vile intention behind it.

He couldn't think clearly, trying to regain the remaining consciousness in the situation like this. Dio wasn’t even certain where he was at the moment. The only thing he knew was that it was over for him.

Diego found himself being unable to move, instead lying down as he watched the blue sky above him, noting that it became harder to breathe. Surrounding loudness was still present in his tired mind as he gave up on trying to move.

He glanced down, finally finding the reason for his struggling. Diego was on the verge of death, watching the two halves of his body laying next to each other on the bloody train tracks. 

So this is how it’s gonna end? The man thought to himself, sighing through the pain he was feeling. Diego felt himself slowly becoming numb, not even being able to move his fingers as the hot sun shined on him as if taunting the young jockey. 

Through the pain Diego felt a growing sense of victory. He had done it. He had killed Valentine. Even if he was the one to fall, he had defeated the president and freed the world from his cruel intentions. He only regretted that he wouldn’t be there to help put the world back together. Diego would have to entrust that to Hot Pants to collect the remaining corpse parts. 

Partnering up wasn’t in Diego’s style, lesser so was trusting someone, yet looking back at it, the man found himself noting that such partnership was beneficial. Hot Pants was a smart and cunning jockey, much like Dio himself. Maybe that’s why such a bond worked. Maybe that’s why Diego sometimes found himself casually talking to Hot Pants without the need to bring up the goal they had in mind. Maybe it was his first sincere interaction he had. Just maybe, this time, he did open to someone. Diego felt himself silently thanking Hot Pants for giving him such an opportunity. Even if it wasn’t for long. And yet they were so close to success together. He could only hope that Hot Pants would celebrate him along with their victory. 

Diego felt himself coughing blood, his breathing slowing down with each passing minute. He felt the surrounding noises to be annoying, too loud for him. He craved quietness. 

The jockey stopped feeling, he couldn’t feel the blood running down from his open mouth. He couldn't feel the warmth of the sun. Slowly, the sounds around him started to become quiet, the screams of the birds somewhere. Diego couldn’t distinguish from there they were coming from. 

The sudden slice crashed over him, and it became overbearing as his sight had started to worsen. Dio tried looking down at his hands, only seeing a blurred image of what had once belonged to him. He found himself panicking, trying to see the stripes on the blue sweater. He couldn’t. Diego felt short of breath, trying to gather the remaining oxygen as the dread ran through his body.

He felt unwell, scared and defeated. He had succeeded but success was not his, it had been given to someone else while he was left cold and alone here to die. 

Dio searched for the warmth, suddenly realizing how cold it felt despite it being daytime. Sunlight suddenly stopped touching him as the jockey couldn't move,  frantically closing his eyes and trying to stay awake. Diego was losing his composure quickly as he couldn’t even his breathing, instead panting and shaking lightly. Small amounts of tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, threatening to run down his face.

Dio felt his own voice interrupting him, screaming inside his head as the panic consumed him. He didn’t want to die. Not like this, not this way. And not here. Not when all of his dreams were so close to fruition. 

Diego Brando had a whole life ahead of him. He had just won, he needed, he deserved, to show the world his success. Raise up in ranks, find a stable position in life. This isn’t how he wanted to end his life, lying on the railway tracks and waiting for his demise. Yet the truth was undeniable. His life was to end in the matter of minutes if not seconds and Dio needed to accept that.

He gathered the remaining oxygen that he could find, breathing in the last fresh air. As Diego did so, he felt a warm presence next to him. The jockey was still scared to open his eyes, afraid to see the leaving him world for the last time.

Diego felt a hand on his cheek, brushing away the tears from his face gently. The hand then moved to run itself through his locks, seemingly hoping to help the man to calm down. The soft touches felt familiar to Dio, reminding him of when he was a small child. He felt his body becoming lighter, noting that his anxious thoughts had started to slowly disappear, leaving the man exhausted.

The warm presence was still beside Diego as the loud sounds left his mind. However, he could hear something still. Something or someone was calling him. It was a gentle voice, a calming sound that interrupted the suffocating silence that had surrounded him. It was hard to understand who was calling for him, yet he could undoubtedly say that it felt familiar. He wanted the voice to call for him again.

Diego

And it called again, trying to make him open his eyes. Diego felt a warm hand playing with his locks.

Diego, please open your eyes

There it was again, the voice. Dio heard it clearer now, slowly started to recognize who was talking. He felt the urge to cry as his body started to shake lightly. The presence near him noticed that, as the other hand now took Diego’s one, drawing small comforting patterns on the back of his hand.

Diego now eagerly wanted to open his eyes, small sobs starting to escape him. He felt the hand squeeze his own, silently urging Dio to accept the truth.

The jockey’s eyes flew upon as he finally saw the figure before him, quickly launching himself at the revealed person.

Mother

Diego felt her arms hugging him back as the jockey cried into his mother’s neck, quietly apologizing for not being there to save her, for not becoming everything she wanted him to be. Such claims were shut down as his mom was quick to reassure him.

I am proud of you

Dio’s hold tightened as another loud sob escaped his twitching lips. 

I missed you, mom. There was not a day where I did not think about you

And so did I, Dio

Diego felt himself relax, for the first time in weeks if not months. He felt at ease. The remaining fears left his exhausted body, making Dio feel lighter, almost as if his body was vanishing from this world that brought so much pain and struggles to his and his mother’s lives.

As he felt his mother’s lips touch his forehead in a comforting matter, Diego smiled. No loudness was present in his heart and mind. He felt relieved. 

Diego found himself in a state of total tranquility

Together with the person he loved most.

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