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monsterfloofs · 2 months

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Demon (No name yet?) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

You sold your soul. The thought never even crossed your mind until the day when travesty came to your loved ones. You knew there were rumors of people selling their most sacred self for many things, fame, fortune, beauty, yet you yourself traded for a different price.

To rework the damage of time, of events you could never be able to mend without help. You had tried to make peace with what transpired, but couldn't bear it. Thus you had decided your life was unliveable. What good was a soul if your heart was splintered into fragments. What good was a soul to a being that no longer wished to live without those who made life worth living? To rewrite the threads of fate bore a heavy price, and you could never see your other loved ones again. It was a cruel price, but one you gladly took.

Remembering the flash of bright pearlescent teeth, almost glowing in the dark. Turning with fear as a light bloomed into existence, the bright had burned your eyes. You pressed your fingers to your eyes as you ground tilted under your fit. As if the very ground had become a swarm of writhing snakes.

You had been prepared for the worst. You were ready to suffer ten-fold for your wish to abuse the hands of fate. Yet perhaps it was one last glimmer of luck, that your benefactor themselves ended up being an oddity. Dressing you up like a pompous porcelain doll and parading you around as if you were some kind of priceless luxury.

You examined your reflection in the mirror, tilting your head up to look at the dark lace like marks that encircled your neck. Fingertips smoothing over warm skin, digging your thumbnail against one of the elegant swirls and scratching at it. It was, no use of course, you had tried all sorts of ways to remove it. Your stare into your eyes instead, trying to read the expression on your own face.

Then a bell tinkled and you looked over your shoulder, before begrudgingly slouching out of the large baroque restroom in your private suite. The bell ment tea time and the first tea time of the month could only mean one thing. You dreaded the new clothes that would have to endure. They were usually poofy, with enough ruffles that you had entertained the idea of pulling them all off and using them as a rope to escape out the window. Seeing a prettily wrapped parcel on your bed you could only sigh.

It was cruel and unusual torment, yet considering how you had thought your new life was going to be. . . it was better in spades compared to that. You gingerly pull apart the bow, and open the box. Feeling your face sag as you lift up the garment. Well. . . it's. . . certainly.

Something.

Something as in, you felt like a pink profiterole as you waddled to the parlor. If the pants were any poofier perhaps you could use them to make a hot air balloon.

You sat with your hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window. Home, they had insisted you call this new world. Yet it felt like a gilded cage. No matter how pretty, how decorated the iron was, they were still bars. Your guard had been down, mind wandering as you stared out the window. You hadn't noticed the shadow looming over you until it was too late.

A clawed hand reaches over and gently pinches your cheek, which makes you scrunch up your nose and shake your head.

"Look at you!" They squealed, tail lashing back and forth. "Perfect, perfect, you are absolutely darling!"

They acted with an air of an overly affectionate aunt, and it was truly the most bizarre experience.

They clapped their hands. "I want to see all of it!"

With the air of a waterlogged cat trying to reclaim their dignity you stood slowly. Watching as they make a dramatic show of looking you up and down before spinning a perfect clawed finger.

"Do a little turn for me? Oh pretty please with a cherry on top?"

S i g h.

You turn on your heel slowly, lip jut in a pout, holding your arms out at your sides. You arms fall to your sides as your finish your and wait for further instructions. their hands clasped to their cheek and staring at you with something like tears in their eyes.

"You are just so scrumptious! OOH I could just eat you up!!"

You remember being terrified when they first said that, but now you blink mildly and politely sit back down.

They tap a fingernail against their sharp teeth, "I will have to plan. . . for next month maybe something in lilac yes. . ."

You take a deep breath, well, you told yourself you would ask, it's now or never.

"My liege. . ." You swallow thickly, "Perhaps I could. . . pick the design this time?"

You wait for the atmosphere to change waiting for the floor to drop out and you to fall into a fiery hell pit.

When you peek at them they look more like they want to cry.

"Really?"

You guiltily look at the tiered pastry tray "If it wouldn't be too much tro-" The last word gone as they fling their arms around you.

"Aaaaaa!!" They shrill, "Oh yes! Yes, yes, yes! Oh my lil cream puff, my lil cupcake you can have whatever you would like!"

Your eyes wide as you are rocked back and forth. It's getting hard to breathe. "M-my leige-" You wheeze, patting their back urgently.

"I was hoping and hoping you would ask I–" They drop you immediately, taking a step away with their hands held behind their back. "O-oh yes. Of course, touching, you don't like that whole invasion of personal space" They twitter nervously tugging at their collar with a finger. "Whoopsie, w-won't happen again!"

Enjoy what I write? I have a tip jar! I also take writing and art commissions on kofi! ヽ(*ᵔ▿ᵔ)ﾉ

#monster x reader #monster x human #demon x reader #demon x human #demon x gn human #demon x gn reader #They are smitten head over heels for da hooman >8)))c #What do you mean pact???#We are definately going to be dating 👀👀👀 just wait and see #while the main character is like I aM NOT DEAD YEt I caN danCE ANd I caN sInG #I have no idea this person is smitten I am afraid for me LIFE #forgive me on any writing mistakes #I am up late ahaha

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

#ME WRITING AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL AND SELF DESTRUCTING PIECE #yahoooooooo yipeee #soft tender harry lives in my heart rent free #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry styles one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry smut #fluff #hsh #dom harry

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 18, second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Hey OP where’s the funny header gif for this post? Sorry, it was murdered by an angst demon and the framing of these shots.

My Found Family Came to Find Me

Continuing our flashback from last time, we see Baby Wei Ying up a tree, refusing to come down because he's afraid there are dogs. Eventually he falls out of the tree, like a dumbass a child, and Yanli tries but fails to catch him.

Unlike his grownup counterpart, Baby Wei Ying doesn't pretend he's unhurt when he is hurt. I'd like to put the change at Yu Ziyuan's door, but actually he admits to being hurt during his Gusu summer - he mimics Lan Zhan's stoicism when they're getting beaten, but it doesn't come naturally to him, and he whines a lot afterwards.

By the time of the Animatronic Dog incident, however, he's laughing off obvious injuries that have secret trauma behind them. By the time he comes back, coreless, from the burial mounds, he won't confide in anyone about his hurts any more, except possibly Wen Qing.

Yanli carries Wei Ying, in a sequence that will be echoed much later in his life when Lan Zhan carries him (gifset here). While they head back, she tells him that Jiang Cheng has a bad temper and to ignore whatever mean things he says. This will also be echoed in the future, when Wei Wuxian says it to Lan Zhan after their argument with Jiang Cheng in the shrine.

Yanli also explains that Jiang Cheng loved his dogs and that he's been very sad since Jiang Fengmian sent them away, demonstrating once again that Jiang Fengmian is a terrible father. Yanli says that Jiang Cheng will be happy to have a friend with him, though. This kind of makes Wei Wuxian's role in Jiang Cheng's life "replacement dog."

Jiang Cheng, after getting over this particular snit, got worried about Wei Wuxian and woke up Yanli to find him, and then went wandering around in the dark like a dumbass a child, and is banged up and crying when the other two find him. Yanli encourages him to apologize to Wei Wuxian and he does, which will not happen again until the very end of the show.

They all smile and laugh together, as Wei Ying looks to Yanli to guide him through the insanity that his life has suddenly become.

(more behind the cut!)

They head back to Lotus Pier in a sweet montage of walking and smiling together, with Jiang Cheng carrying the world's most beautiful candle holder with the world's most wind-resistant candle in it, to light their way back. Back in the present day for a brief moment, Jiang Cheng pretends to sleep and listens to his sister insisting that the three of them should always stay together, while a single tear rolls down the side of his face.

Soup is Love, Chapter 1 of 1000

Then we head to the past again. In Jiang Cheng & Wei Ying's now-shared room, Wei Ying sits on the bed trying to figure out how to deal with his grumpy new roommate.

Wei Ying is unsure what to do when confronted with pajama game this strong. Tiny Jiang Cheng is already a fashion king.

Then he tells Jiang Cheng he's not going to narc him out to the clan leader, since it was his own fault that he hurt his leg. This is all Jiang Cheng needs to hear to decide Wei Ying is all right, and he says that he will help Wei Ying chase away dogs in the future. In fact, Wei Wuxian will protect Jiang Cheng from punishment basically forever, while Jiang Cheng will continue to threaten Wei Wuxian with dogs...forever.

They shake hands on their new understanding and then jump up and down laughing, Wei Ying's leg being all better now, apparently. When Yanli arrives (carrying a tray of...can you guess? I'll let you guess), they stop jumping. Wei Ying dives in to give Jiang Cheng a little tickle/embrace in an adorable moment that would have me saying "oh, my ovaries!" if I hadn't surgically sent my ovaries to hell a few years ago.

Yanli introduces Wei Ying to the emotional and gustatorial miracle that is her lotus and ribs soup. He hesitates a long time before tucking in because he's so unused to being fed.

Consent? I Don’t Even Know Her

The flashback wraps up with Yanli conked out on the table from the drugs in the incense burner, while Wei Wuxian, who is somehow unaffected despite sitting almost as close to the smoke as she was, checks on her. Jiang Cheng and his Uggs period-appropriate sock thingies get out of bed to come stand with Wei Wuxian, and have feelings about sending Yanli away after she JUST said she doesn't want to be parted from them.

Wei Wuxian: If she didn't want us to do this, she shouldn't have signed that blanket consent-to-medical-treatment form. Jiang Cheng: Wen Qing made me sign one of those plus a durable power of attorney, is that bad?

This episode is all about people overriding each others' agency and making massively important decisions without the consent of the people who will be affected. But in a feudal context, it's not a violation, no matter how it feels to the person being controlled. In feudal life, your body belongs to your lord -- your sect leader, in the world of CQL. Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng's choices are overridden by their clan leader's final command to Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian's core is arguably Jiang Fengmian's property--Wei Wuxian certainly sees it that way, just as his hand was Yu Ziyuan's to take if she wished.

The brothers tenderly tuck Yanli into bed in the rolly cart and hand her off to Song Lan. They talk about how important it is to get her to Lanling and that she's probably going to be mad, as they thank Song Lan for helping them.

Yanli listens while she sleeps and, in what is becoming a trademark Jiang move, lets a single tear roll down the side of her face. Jiang Cheng points out that Yanli never gets mad at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian is like, true dat.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Song Lan is always so emotional about every damn thing, I love him. Here he's like OH GOD NO DON'T FORMALLY THANK ME! STOP!!!

Then he starts to ask Wei Wuxian to pass a message to Song Xingchen for him, but then decides not to say anything, making it super obvious that they fought and aren't together.

Wei Wuxian reacts to this with confusion and distress, probably because he doesn't want to imagine ever having a breakup with his own soulmate. Which he soon will be having. But possibly he's just upset that his OTP broke up.

After Song Lan takes off, Jiang Cheng gives Wen Qing a rude & perfunctory thank-you bow, turning away before she can return it. Wei Wuxian tells her not to take it to heart - basically everyone who deals with Jiang Cheng gets a version of the "ignore what he says" speech. She says she understands and that in his place she would have behaved worse, which is so totally not true.

Then she asks Wei Wuxian if he's sure about the core transfer (not in so many words, because the script is being kind of being vague about it, without actually hiding what's happening). His reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then he and Jiang Cheng walk off, with Jiang Cheng giving us a rear view that had me googling Wang Zhuocheng's fashion shoots to determine if that wagon he's draggin’ is really as delightful as this belt makes it look. Alas, there is not a wealth of photographic evidence for this research, as compared to, for example, photos of Xiao Zhan's outstanding ass.

Wen Qing and Wen Ning see them off, with Wen Qing wishing they valued their lives more. Although, what she and Wen Ning are doing is massive treason, so their lives will be pretty much forfeit if they're caught, so...

The Sunshot Campaign of Like 60 Dudes

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng walk up the mountain for the whole beginning of the Sunshot campaign, which...okay. Maybe it's like Dunkirk or The Witcher where they intercut stuff that is happening in different timeframes, which is one of my least favorite new film style thingies.

You know, for a guy Wei Wuxian constantly calls "peacock," Jin Ziyuan really doesn't wear a lot of adornment; just some subtle metalwork on his belt with no dangly bits at all, and a single reasonably-sized hair crown. Compared to the extremely fancy Lan Wangji he's almost plain. We already know that Wei Wuxian is a massive hypocrite when it comes to his idea of a perfect boy, however.

So, this is the Lanling Jin army, which consists of literally 60 guys, including the ones on the stairs and Jin Zixuan and Douchebag Dad. How are they going to fight a war with this tiny group? Why do they have such a big plaza? Hasn't anybody on this production learned CGI cloning?

That’s better.

Nie Mingjue and his best bitch Baxia make quick work of the 4 Wen guys who were assigned to hold the Unclean Realm.

Hello, Daddy Da-Ge!

Squeeee, it's Lan Wangji! He's taking back Cloud Recesses! Ooooohhh we've missed you Lan Wangji.

Look guys he's here! Look how beautiful he is. He's looking at the gate of cloud recesses and thinking thoughts that Lan Xichen or Wei Wuxian could probably see in his bewitching eyes if they were here to see him, which they aren't. But at least he is here!

....and now he's gone again. *cries*

Hares On The Mountains

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian continue roaming prettily around this pretty mountainside. The locations in this show are such eye candy.

Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains Young laddies they run like hares on the mountains If I was a young lass I’d soon go a hunting

Jiang Cheng starts to have doubts about the whole Baoshan Sanren thing. Wei Wuxian's reply pretty much encapsulates the whole Wei Wuxian experience.

Then we have just the tenderest blindfolding scene, (more gifs here), which is fodder for your ChengXian dreams, if you have those.

Here's a good place for a sidebar about what is and isn't incest. Whee! In the CDrama context, relationships tend to be more clearly defined than in western media. The mechanism of confession & acceptance means that people either are or are not in a romantic relationship, with few grey areas. So a character can literally say "we grew up as brother and sister, but now we are dating" and when someone looks startled they just say "there's no blood relation" and everyone is like "cool cool" and that's the new definition of the relationship.

For a strong example of this, the extremely wonderful Go Ahead is about a contemporary family in which a girl and two boys, who are not blood relatives, are all raised together, and call each other brother and sister. When they become adults, they and everyone around them expect the girl (now a woman) to marry one of the two men who have been her brothers, while whichever one she doesn't choose will carry on as her sibling. It's treated as the most natural, logical thing in the world; the only question is whether she wants to make that transition, and with whom.

Looked at through this lens, Wei Wuxian's relationships with his adoptive siblings have just as much potential to turn into romances as his relationships with his friends do, and there's nothing creepy about it. As such you can expect my meta to always get into ChengXian moments without treating it as a wrong or forbidden love. Hopeless, of course, because Jiang Cheng is such a prick the power of WangXian is stronger, but that's a different matter.

What is wrong is wearing this fantastic hat & veil combination when the most fashionable person on the mountain is blindfolded and can't see it.

In the course of this blindfolded encounter with Wen Qing, Jiang Cheng gets to kneel before a powerful woman, be led along by a length of silk that's placed in his hand, and then knocked the fuck out and operated on. He'll wake up in a hotel room in a tub full of ice with "we took your kidney" written on the mirror in lipstick, and he'll love every minute of it.

Soundtrack: 1. Still Fighting it, by Ben Folds 2. Hares on the Mountain, by Steeleye Span

Writing Prompt: The NEXT time somebody blindfolds Jiang Cheng

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #chengxian #cql #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

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daydream-believin · 3 years

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Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

* * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #my writing

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thegrandkinghimself · 3 years

Text

--before the jump

Dying sunlight filters, dampened, in through the shōji as Hajime blinks awake, mind hazy with sleep. He notices shadows of dancing trees playing across the slat of the windows and across blank walls, the white covers of the futon he’s sleeping in, and the low table and bookshelf to his left. The computer on the desk is still on with its screen stuck on a page of text. Textbook, binder, mechanical pencil. Sticky notes. A Seijoh uniform is hanging on hooks in the wall, with crisp pleats in the khakis and a wrinkle-free blazer--meticulous as always. It’s spartan. And definitely not Hajime’s bedroom.

The door opens and Oikawa walks in, quietly humming to the tune of whatever song is playing in his headphones. He isn’t paying attention to Hajime, doesn’t notice that he’s awake, and just plops down in front of his computer. He unconsciously curls in on himself, knees up to his chest, as he resumes whatever he was writing in his notebook before he left. Hajime turns onto his side to watch. Pulls the covers up farther to cover his shoulder. If he tucks his nose down a little bit, Hajime can smell sage and a hint of camphor that saturate the sheets.

During the day, there is always the rhythm of footsteps and lightning fast movements that characterize Hajime’s life. Treadmills of habit. Even in the night, there is the breath drawn next to his side and muffled questions of tomorrow. But sometimes, it strikes him just how quiet it can be around Oikawa because, for all of his bluster, he can get so wrapped up in his head. Hajime won’t pretend he knows all that plagues this mystifying boy--this person who is more than even the most complex kanji can capture. But now Hajime understands, too, what it means to be so disquieted in a way that he rarely does.

These days, it’s hard not to feel like this--like even the wrong word could disturb the stillness that hangs over their heads as the clock ticks down to zero.

Hajime slips out from the covers and pads behind Oikawa, noting the Spanish that is displayed on the computer screen. He smiles a little, because that’s all Oikawa’s been obsessed with since their final match with Karasuno. The thought is bittersweet and his heart twinges.

He puts his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders, feels them tense before relaxing, and kneads them absentmindedly.

“I didn’t know you were awake, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, pulling his headphones from his ears and letting them pool on the desk.

“Just woke up,” Hajime replies. He pushes on Oikawa’s back until there’s enough room to sit behind him, legs splayed out and arms around Oikawa’s waist so he can peer over his shoulder at the computer. “’s quiet.”

“Mmm.” A pause. “Are you gonna stay for dinner later? I think okaa-chan is gonna make hōtō for dinner. She ran out to the grocers while you were sleeping.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

They fall silent and Oikawa returns to his studying. Hajime can empathize. His English isn’t bad, he knows he’ll do fine on his TOEFL exam, but there’s still a lot to learn. He’s forgotten a lot from classes and he’s never been anywhere near as good at speaking English as Oikawa, who’s been practicing since junior high, to begin with.

It still hasn’t really hit Hajime. The fact that he’ll be off to America in a matter of months. He isn’t sure if he’s scared or excited or what.

The thought of English being a practical skill had always seemed like a pipedream--something that only mattered for those lucky few who could break into the international stage to challenge the whole world. Even then, back when Oikawa had been all of 13, he had taken to his classes with as much vigor as he did volleyball. Hajime has never had that amount of foresight. Or been that wishful of a thinker. He has that much more work to do now but he isn’t complaining. He just spends that time with Oikawa. Use as much time as they have to spend together before there’s nothing left and they’re saying “goodbye” into empty spaces.

“You nervous?” He asks, because he has to.

Oikawa just sighs and puts his pencil down, laying back into Hajime. He fidgets with his long fingers, picking at his pants.

“Of course I am. It’s really scary--I’ll be all alone. It’s the first time we’ll be apart for so long. And I don’t even know if I’ll even amount to anything in the end. I think that’s the scariest part. What if I go all this way--spend all this time and money on something that could just end in failure?”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you Tooru?”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa turns his head to look at Hajime and smiles.

Thing is, Oikawa smiles a lot. And no matter how much Hajime complains, he likes them all--even the disingenuous ones--because it’s all Oikawa. But there are certain smiles that Hajime likes most because they’re just for him. Like this one, where Oikawa’s eyes are all scrunched at the corners and the smile lines around his mouth are prominent.

“But you know that I’ll be cheering you on, too, Iwa-chan. I’ll send you a hundred text messages every day, and drain all your data. You’d better video chat with me every night!”

Trust Oikawa to know exactly what he needs to hear.

It’s a tide of he’s beautiful and it’s blinding when you look at me like that and Hajime has to kiss him then. Oikawa tastes a little like the chicken they had for lunch, a lot of snacks they picked up from the konbini after school, but his lips are soft and he sighs so prettily and melts.

When they break apart, Hajime can’t help but return the smile. He takes in the last strains of the afternoon fractal on Oikawa’s face, the shōji mullions creating a pattern of lines, highlighting the burnished gold specks in his eyes and the arch of his cheekbones. Hajime knows that in these last months together, he will try to memorize every little detail of Oikawa’s face to carry him into the unknown. The little freckle along his hairline, the long length of his eyelashes, the exact curve to his Cupid’s bow. Hajime also knows that he will have this memory to keep tucked safe in the box of homehomehome between the folds of his heart and his breath.

When Hajime takes the moment to think, he’s struck by the uncertainty of it all. Just how much they don’t know, what it will be like beyond the provincial limits of their small Japan and even smaller Miyagi. But he knows profoundly as he pulls Oikawa--no, Tooru into his lap and feels the grounding weight of him, that he is not alone. Warmth surges in his chest, so sudden it feels like it is bursting from Hajime’s everything.

He moves in for another kiss and nothing has ever been more perfect than this moment.

#haikyuu!!#oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #iwaoi #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu spoilers

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omgsomeonesomewhereonearth · 5 years

Text

Chapter One - Acacia

SO I’ve recently been in love with ever Patton ship ever which should honestly be fairly obvious to anyone seeing my blog lol

And I’ve had the idea for a series where all of the sides just kind of fight over him for a while, so here’s the first chapter I guess? I started with Deceit because we as a fandom do not give Patceit the recognition it deserves.

Also some implied royality that I’ll be developing in later chapters.

💙💛💙💛

Acacia- A small, yellow flower with a fuzzy appearance, often signifying a concealed love

Deceit did not have a crush on Patton.

As a matter of fact, he didn’t even like him. He and Patton were complete opposites, he represented everything Patton was against, they hated each other. If it hadn’t been for Roman’s blatantly obvious and frankly pathetic crush on the moral side, Deceit would never have even bothered talking to him.

Deceit just liked winding Roman up, that was it. Seeing the princely side lose his temper was amusing, and he was always looking for new ways to mess with him. And who knew the perfect way would skip into the kitchen on a perfectly normal Sunday, all wrapped up in a grey cat hoodie and fluffy brown curls and completely oblivious to the way a certain prince was hanging off his every word.

As Deceit watched Roman’s grinning eagerly at Patton every time he made a joke, drinking in the moral side’s reaction as if he needed it to survive, a new plan was already forming in his mind.

Deceit straightened his gloves outside the kitchen door, preparing himself. He’d decided to wake up somewhat earlier than usual, hoping to meet Patton in the kitchen before Roman could wake up. Without the Prince’s presence, Patton’s attention would be solely his. He entered, making sure to let the door close quietly. He needed to be clever here, subtle, sly, cunning-

“Good morning kiddo, is that you Dee?”

What.

Patton turned around to grin at him, and if Deceit’s heart did skip slightly at receiving such a friendly smile from the moral side - it didn’t - it was only because from surprise at being discovered, it had nothing at all to do with how cute Patton looked in the morning, or the unfamiliar kindness in his eyes, it was nothing.

“H- how did you…?”

Patton giggled, and took off his glasses. “I’m a dad silly!”. He put the glasses on backwards and whirled back around. “I’ve got eyes in the back of my head!”

The laugh that left Deceit’s lips was completely fake, and seeing Patton light up in response to it brought him no joy whatsoever.

“You’re up a bit early today kiddo. is everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Deceit stepped just-a-bit-too-close to the man standing before him and ran a gentle hand down his arm until he held their hands were linked, brushing his thumb over the other’s knuckles. “I was only hoping to spend some time enjoying your delightful company first thing this morning, my dear.”

He’d expected Patton to be flustered. Perhaps he would stutter, or blush, or mumble, Deceit had even imagined the moral side dropping the bowl he was carrying. He had not expect Patton’s to grin wider, completely unperturbed…? Did he not realise what was happening here?

“Awww! That’s so cute!! And as a reward for being absolutely adorable, you can help me with breakfast! C’mon, it’s really fun, I’ll show you how!”

Deceit had come downstairs with the intention of seducing Patton. He hadn’t planned on a cooking lesson. Still, if this was what it took… Deceit sighed and peeled off his gloves, knowing from hearing Logan complain about it that cooking time with Patton was never clean.

Of course he was only doing this out of necessity. Watching Patton skip around the kitchen as he rattled off instructions on making pancakes- and frequently interrupted himself with random anecdotes- brought him no joy whatsoever.

“And then Roman said- Oh, hey Roman!”

Deceit certainly wasn’t started by Roman’s entrance, he’d been expecting it. After all, this was why he was doing this, wasn’t it? And seeing Roman’s confused frown upon realizing he’d been beaten to the kitchen meant he was succeeding. So why was the lying side feel strangely… disappointed at having his time with Patton interrupted?

“Strange to see you up so early, Jekyll and Lies.” Roman, who had hopped up on the counter, wasn’t really looking at him, his smile fixed instead on Patton, clearly determined not to be beaten.

Deceit rolled his eyes. “You know me Roman, always going for the element of surprise.” He strolled over to Patton’s other side. “Patton, would you say I’ve mixed this batter enough, I’m not entirely sure-”

The rest of the week passed similarly for Deceit, spending quality time with Patton while Roman glared indignantly at him over the moral side’s head, clearly displeased with the competition. Which is of course what Deceit wanted. He was only doing this to teach Roman a lesson, he never wished that the time spent with Patton would actually be his alone...

“Hey kiddo, I’m doing some scrap-booking today, you wanna help me?”

Deceit stared down at the man standing outside his door, clutching a cute decorated book full of pictures.

“Thomas has gotten up to so much lately, I don’t know if I can organize all these memories myself!”

“I- you’re asking me?”

“No pressure if you don’t want to, I just thought it might be fun for the two of us to do something together.”

“…Just the two of us?”

“Well, I suppose you could ask one of the others to help if you want, but I really just wanted some Quali-Dee time today!”

He did’t have to say yes. Spending time with Patton really didn’t benefit him in any way if Roman wasn’t there to see it and be annoyed.

“Do you get it? Like, quality time, but specifically with you!”

Oh, to hell with the plan.

Deceit smiled warmly at Patton as he accompanied him to his room.

“I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my evening.”

Exactly a week after the day Deceit had expertly crafted and promptly discarded his devious plan, the lying side found himself outside a bedroom door that was quickly becoming familiar to him, holding a cluster of flowers behind his back. They weren’t much, but something about the fluffy, yellow blossoms drew him to them.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

“Hey Dee! Did you need something?”

Deceit wondered vaguely if he’d ever get tired of seeing Patton smile up at him.

“Greetings Patton.” Deceit looked up at Patton with a sly smirk and a practiced bow that put him and the other side at eye level. “As a matter of fact, what I needed was to speak to you.”

…Was Patton blushing? Had Patton ever blushed before, in front of him? Did Patton reciprocate his feelings? How had Deceit never noticed?

“…ummm…Dee? What did you want to tell me?”

Oops

Looking down at Patton, it was suddenly a lot harder for Deceit to say all he’d come into say. One day he’d honestly tell the man in front of him how he felt, but for now…

“I believe there might be something behind you.”

“Huh?” As Patton’s whirled his head around, Deceit took the opportunity to slide a hand behind his ear, like he’d done in the courtroom all those months ago, long before everything between them had changed.

“Dee, what are you- oh!”

Patton gasped and blushed prettily as Deceit “conjured” the small bouquet from behind his ear.

“They’re beautiful Dee, are those for me?”

“For you? Of course not, I was thinking of giving these to someone else…perhaps Logan? or Virgil?”

He certainly wasn’t expecting Patton’s shoulders to drop the way they did… although, come to think of it, he’s not entirely sure what he was expecting.

“Oh… well, I’m sure whoever they’re for will like them very much Deceit-”

“Patton.” Deceit stops him with a pointed look until Patton gets it.

“OH! Ohh… Deceit, that’s so sweet!” Patton reached out to take the flowers, holding them with both hands as if he was afraid they’d break. “Thanks so much Dee, I love them.”

For a moment, neither side spoke, both staring down at their feet. Then, just as Deceit was about to take his leave, Patton surged forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

…

“…I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just… I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to, I promise-”

“…”

“…Dee?”

“…No, Patton, I… ahem…” Deceit shook himself back to reality. “I would absolutely hate it if you were to ever do that again.”

Patton giggled. “Well, that’s good to know.”

As Deceit left Patton’s room he was not at all startled to run into Roman, standing with his arms crossed like a petulant toddler.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you? Well you must feel very clever indeed.”

“Do you really think you can make me jealous by flirting with Patton? I’m literally the most romantic side, you’ll know I’ll win in the end.”

“Roman please, this has absolutely nothing to do with you… but, if you do want to make a competition out of it…” Deceit grinned wolfishly. “May the best side win.” He marched away with a twirl of his cape, leaving a flustered and confused Prince gaping behind him.

💙💛💙💛

#patceit #moceit #ts patton #ts deceit #patton sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #ts sides #ts art #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #my art #romantic moceit #long post #✒

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catearsandchaos · 7 years

Text

Look at me, actually posting two things close to each other. I've just finished this thing, it's the first piece of writing I have actually finished in months. It's nice. I like this feeling, of being mildly competent and completing things.

Things have happened since I last posted. I got some new lovelies following me from my hugs catch up. Thank you so much for that, all of you. It's really great when I get someone new over here. I don't exactly run a conventional blog, so I'm very glad when someone decides they like me enough to follow me. And it makes a change from the 3 spam blogs a week I need to block. Real people! You're lovely.

I also got the sweetest anon message. It's still making me smile just thinking about it. Whoever you are, thank you. I will admit to a burning curiosity to know who it was, so I can thank them properly and send them all the love they deserve, but I have no wish to pressure anyone to come forward if they do not wish to. I use the anon system a lot, I know how much easier it can be.

And I wrote a thing. Be proud of me. It's another word prompt from my wonderful friend across the seas, but this one may have gotten away from me a bit. It developed plot. It's kinda long, I think I broke the 3000 word mark, but I'm kinda proud of it. And on that note, if anyone finds a particularly good word they want to donate to me, I'm always happy to receive them. I love doing these prompts a lot. So this is 'Nefarious'.

Nefarious- (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.

Of all the words used to describe you, that one might certainly be your favourite one so far. You curl it around your tongue slowly, trying it out. It's a good fit, you decide. It seems just right, much like dear little Goldilocks and her bowl of porridge. Such a sweet darling she was as well, all blonde curls and rosy red cheeks wrapped up under a blue cloak. It was a shame she had met such a gruesome end, but really, you can't be held accountable for the actions of wild animals, no matter how docile and domesticated they may appear. The girl should have known better than to venture that close to a cave full of bears, although you, of course, mourn a life lost too early.

You step quietly out of the bath, dropping a robe over your shoulders and picking up the newspaper, glancing shortly at the headline which screams its accusations at you in bold print. The media and the press were always a bit of a wild card. Something you could never control, no matter how hard you tried. There were always going to be rogue publications, undercover message systems and it was far safer to allow them to continue to act where you could see them. Let them think that they have won their battle. Perhaps you should have kept a closer eye on them.

‘NEFARIOUS QUEEN’S PLOT UNCOVERED!’

It’s not entirely your plot. Your ministers put together most of it, you simply signed the relevant papers and smiled prettily at foreign ministers sent with varying degrees of threats and promises that they simple would not stand idly by if such events were to occur. The tricky network of spies spread across the kingdoms was known to all, but rarely mentioned. To remove one spy was to leave room for two to appear in its place and endanger your own in a far off court. An eye for an eye. A spy for a spy.

You chuckle lightly at your own rhyme and unfold the thick paper, scanning the article lazily. Really, they'd done their research well and must have an ally somewhere in your cabinet. Someone has broken their vows and that is treason of the highest order. It's a shame the old punishments are not still in place. You would have enjoyed hearing them scream, you think.

There is no doubt declarations of war are currently flying in from across the kingdoms. You wonder whose will arrive first. The King of Troya is your closest neighbour, but he will be reluctant to launch a campaign against you. His army is weak and economy wrecked after a frankly ridiculous squabble with Numor. After 37 years of fighting over such a tiny principality as Chibir they are in no place to stand against your might.

No, the first challenge will arrive from Queen Cynthia of Nedia, who considers herself the bastion of all that is right and good in the world. It is a funny little kingdom, run by farmers and peasants alike. You wouldn't be surprised if they showed up on the battlefield with pitchforks riding their donkeys. But far before any foreign army would arrive, the castle and the kingdom would be taken by the mob that was advancing from the capital.

The article had ended with a rather rousing call to arms for all those close enough to reach the castle by midnight. It was cute, really, but you aren't stupid enough to dismiss the power of anger. And angry they will be. You knew when you took the throne that the rule of a tyrant was dangerous, lonely and, ultimately, short-lived. That was the risk you took.

You pluck at the sleeves of your robe and decide you should get changed. You would rather not face the angered mob and the end of your reign naked if you can avoid it. The floor to your bedchamber is cold, the fireplace empty, only a scattering of ashes left. The castle staff had fled when whispers first arrived about the advancing forces. You will probably see some of them again, weapons held high and the fire of vengeance in their eyes.

The wardrobe is well stocked and you consider your choices, but soon enough you decide that if this is indeed the end, then you will of course face it in a manner befitting an Evil Queen. The dress is difficult to lace up without help, but the blood-red gown flows gently to the ground as you inspect yourself in the mirror. It doesn't fit perhaps quite as well as it once did, since it was tailored you’ve had one too many of Cook’s sweets, but you try to ignore the tightness around your stomach.

You twist your hair on top of your head, shaking a few droplets free. The sweltering summer sun will dry it in no time, and you would rather avoid the tangles. It's easy enough to pin it in place with a crown. The twisted circlet of silver and iron glints as you step up to the window to track the progress of the mass of browns and blues and reds marching across the city. You estimate you have about an hour before they reach the doors and will probably double in size as they reach the dense centre where the castle lies.

There's not much time to do anything, but you pick up a book from your bedside table. A few chapters remain unread and you have no wish to leave things unfinished. Time passes slowly and you find it difficult to keep your attention on the book in front of you but you eventually snap it shut with a sense of satisfaction. It was a terrible ending, of course, but it is finished and that brings a certain feeling of contentment.

It slots easily into the gap on the shelf and you wander the room straightening the bed sheets and picking up cushions from the floor. Only when the room is picture perfect do you glance outside the window. You feel almost flattered at the amount of people who have joined the march. Really, it's heartening to know you succeeded in making an enemy of so many people.

You smooth out the creases in your dress and make your way steadily to the main hall, heels echoing through the empty stone corridors. The candles around the door have been extinguished, perhaps with the hope of convincing those outside that the castle is empty, but the stairs remain mostly lit, a few lights extinguished by the wind. It's just as you step into a stretch of shadow that the sound of cries and roars becomes almost deafening and the doors of the castle crash open, a handful of men stumbling in.

They pull up short at the lack of reaction to their entrance, perhaps they were expecting an onslaught of royal guards, but they still squint suspiciously into the darkness. Most of them are young men and women, all too eager to lay down their lives for the cause of justice, although there are a few older faces among them, faces battle hardened and wielding steel.

A party of three is shoved forward, a young girl in crudely made leather armour and a large stick held tightly in her grip, a veritable knight in shining armour, a beacon of glowing silver in the shadows, and a cloaked and hooded figure leaning heavily on a cane. It's almost adorable, the motley group sent forward to face the evil queen.

You step out of the shadows into the flickering candlelight as the doors slam shut behind the party, cutting them off from the rest of the group. Your presence goes unnoticed until as they scramble desperately to open the door, until the girl gives out a short scream of fear on looking over her shoulder and tugs sharply on the robes of the figure next to her.

“So.” Their voice is calm and steady as they address you without turning away from the door. “You’ve finally decided to show your face.”

“At least I have the common courtesy to show my face while in the company of others, unlike some of us, Yennan.”

The posture is almost unmistakable. Yennan was one of your lesser advisors, an air of mystery always trailing him like a heavy fog. You feel slightly vindicated that the contempt he felt for you wasn’t imagined, but it isn’t quite enough to smother the heavy rage that threatens to build in your chest. But before you can step down to speak directly to Yennan, the young girl jumps in front of him, brandishing her stick in shaking hands.

“You… you shut up about Yennan! You d-don’t know anything about them! He can keep his face covered if he wants…”

She trails off as you give a cold laugh, before now most successfully used in persuading foreign embassies that it is in their best interests to sign the papers in front of them, but you suppose the it can learn to adapt.

“You silly girl. I know enough about Yennan. I know that he worked for me for 3 years, bowing and scrapping before my throne, desperate for a lick of favour. He was such a loyal dog. But it appears old dogs can learn new tricks, although I was not expecting leading a rebellion against your Queen to be among them.”

Yennan steps forward into the faint glow of light that reaches the bottom of the staircase, cane echoing around the hall with each slow and steady step. He pushes the girl behind him, where she is yanked back into the shadows by a firm grip on her arm. It is only once they reach the very foot of the staircase that they come to a halt.

“I spent 3 years working for my people and my kingdom. Not for you. Never for you.”

“Oh? I was under the impression that they were my people and this was my kingdom. I am the Queen after all, am I not?”

You wave your hand dismissively as he begins to talk again and watch in satisfaction as his mouth clicks shut. You still hold a little power while in this palace.

“What is it you want, Yennan? If you were after my death, then I would be bleeding out on these stones already.”

You ignore the darkly muttered murmur that sounds suspiciously like ‘we can arrange that easy enough’ from the girl and the chuckle from the soldier next to her and keep your attention fixed on Yennan, gazing at him expectantly.

“We want answers. We want to know why you would do this and what we can do to stop it.”

“You think you can stop it?” You laugh, delighted. “That is adorable. But if you insist of demanding answers then let us move to a more comfortable setting. And I would like to see the sun set one more time if this is to be my last night.”

As you sweep down the stairs Yennan shoots out a hand to grasp your wrist. You jerk away but his grip is strong and a struggle would ultimately be futile.

“I hardly believe you have developed a sudden appreciation for the sunset. Why do you want us outside?”

“Perhaps I have or perhaps I have not. I do have a heart you know, cold and shrivelled though it may be. But either way, the only way you are going to get answers out of me is letting go and moving with me to the gardens.”

The girl is the first to leap forward into the light, aiming her stick at your throat in a rather unthreatening manner.

“It’s a trap.” She snarls, spittle flying across the short gap between you and landing on your face. “You can’t trust a thing that comes out of her filth lying mouth.”

You hear the clanks of movement before you can see the soldier step into the light, hand resting on his partly unsheathed sword as he gazes steadily at you, a menacing look in his eye, before he turns to Yennan.

“For once, I find myself inclined to agree with Annikaa. It is most likely a trap, Yennan; you should proceed with the utmost caution.”

Silence reigns in the entrance hall, the tension almost stifling. You gaze steadily at Yennan, watching the cogs turning behind his eyes until he comes to the only conclusion possible. He sighs heavily and drags a hand across his face, shoulders slumped.

“We will follow you to the gardens. You will tell us what you have done and how we can stop it. And then we will decide what to do next. You do understand you will likely die? There is a mob outside vying for your blood, they will not let you leave unharmed.”

You remain silent and sweep past them, down a dark corridor, the others trailing behind you like lost ducklings. The stone echoes with the click of your shoes, the clank of armour and the clack of the cane. The girl is silent.

The sunset streaks red and purple across the sky when you emerge outside, the air still and quiet. If you strain, you can hear the murmur of the mob, but it is dampened by the stone between you. The garden was built for solitude, to block out the hustle and bustle of the city. The paved square itself that you lead the little party to is immaculate, not a blade of grass out of place, hedges neatly trimmed.

There is silence. You keep your gaze on Yennan, and his remains on you, as Annikaa and the soldier gaze around the square. Eventually you sigh and drop onto a carved marble bench, gesturing to the other seats with a lazy flick of a hand. No one sits.

“So what is it you want to know? There is little point telling you anything you already know.”

“We want to know what is going on. Something is happening down at the docks, people are disappearing. A newly stationed troop of 100 royal guards tends to attract people's attention, we have known for a while. We just don't know where they have gone. There's no trace of them.”

“I would like to think that my guards are capable of spiriting away a few peasants competently. Otherwise it would seem I have some reappointments to make.”

“Where are they?” Yennan presses. “It's more than a few peasants. Hundreds of innocent people have disappeared since the beginning of your reign and thousands more lives ruined because of it. Try for some goodness once in your life. Tell us where they are.”

“They've been taken away to the seventh circle of hell, where they will emerge again as demons ready to do my bidding.”

Silence meets your proclamation and in the blink of an eye there is a sword at your chest, gleaming red in the sunset. Annikaa holds it steady and gazes at you, eyes blazing bright and fierce.

“My parents are missing.” She snarls. “My grandparents, my aunts and uncles. My sister. She was 4 years old when your men took her. I'm the only one left and I swore that one day I'd take revenge. You have destroyed all of our lives and yet you still have the gall to spew lies, and you can't even be bothered to make them believable? How stupid do you think we are?”

“That depends on if you're clever enough to ask the right questions.”

“Enough questions. This ends here and now. I don't care how long it takes us to find those people. I will search every corner of this kingdom by myself if I must. But you will pay for your crimes once and for all, your Majesty.”

You gasp as the blade pierces your chest and you grasp the sword and pull it away, your hand coming away blood soaked. You chuckle weakly, pushing yourself up from the bench with what little energy you have left. You can feel your life draining from you as the blood pools and spills out of the open wound.

You lift a trembling hand to Annikaa, stood in front of you with a satisfied look on her face as Yennan and the soldier stand behind, frozen and horrified. You stroke her cheek, leaving a streak of red across her skin.

“You foolish girl.” You whisper. “You have no idea what you have just done.”

As she releases you in shock, you stumble forward, legs too weak to hold you up. Blood streaks across the paving stones, before soaking into the ground. You mumble feverishly, words tripping off your tongue in a hurried rush. And finally, you slump, ritual completed.

“What… what have you done?” Annikaa stumbles over her words, backing away from you, tripping over a bench and scrambling away as fast as she can.

“It's more a case of what you have done, my dear.” You gasp, feeling a familiar dark force fill your lungs, coursing through your veins. “You really should have believed me.”

With a gasping rattle you lunge for her, unnaturally fast, black shadows and smoke dancing around your form, now taller, stronger, not quite human and not quite monster. You watch with satisfaction as the shadows wrap around her, smoke creating a mockery of hands encircling her neck, squeezing the breath out of her lungs.

As she collapses, lifeless, you feel the power bubbling up inside you, sending you into a giddy reel. It only takes a flick of a hand for the two other men in the clearing to fall to the ground and you can hear faint screams of terror from the city and castle. You've imagined this day for years, so vividly that you can almost see it.

All across the city, black shapes are rising, twisting and howling under the dark sky. It's an enchanting image, black smoke and shadows swirling along the streets, leaving destruction wherever they go. Deadly, it would only take a few seconds for limbs and organs to fail, with no hope of recovery upon contact with a demon.

The force isn't as strong as you wished, you had hoped for a few more years to increase your strength, but it is more than enough to achieve your immediate purpose. There will be time, later, to add to their ranks. This is only the first stage of your plan. First the city, then the kingdom. Then you can move further afield. Perhaps you will start with Nedia. Or leave her until the end. Let her see how well her ‘good will’ works when her neighbouring kingdoms were burning around her.

As the sky darkens, you listen as the city falls quiet. No signs of life remain and as you fill your lungs to let out a great rattling cry, you can hear the echo, low but loud, across the city as they answer to your call. With ease you rise to the top of the castle, floating gently above the parapets.

There is only darkness, as far as you can survey, the only colour the streaks of red made by the sun as it vanishes from sight under your gaze. Night falls as you survey your kingdom, peaceful and quiet and empty. You stretch out your shadowy figure, rejoicing in the power that wells up inside you.

In the breeze, your dress flows in tatters and your crown seems to gleam with a light of its own, twisted iron twisting into your skull and around your face. You let out another cry and watch the shadows rise from the buildings, a flock of darkness swarming and dancing, mesmerising patterns in the moonlight.

Perhaps nefarious was the right word to describe you. But in the end it does not matter. They, they are dead. And now you rule the night.

#Morven's Writings #Nefarious #rambling galore

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