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DW SPAMMIN' TIEM!
Okay, long post is long so I'll put behind a cut. I'm also giving anon status here, but luckily no one really cares so it's all good.
FIC TIEM
Ma Chao/Zhao Yun (a Jiang Wei is fine, too) - both too scared to admit how they feel to the other in case they don't feel the same. Woe and then kissing, plz. Bonus points if bad dreams/sharing blankets/bandaging wounds/etc is involved.
I CRAVE FANFICTION CHEESE.
The battle had been hard. And yet again it had been the same spear watching his back as it always had been ever since he’d taken up his post. And he’d always felt compelled, within the boundaries of achieving his orders of course, to watch the same back with his spear.
He’d spent a long time dismissing it, that he’d do the same for any other man he stood with. To a degree, he was right. He would. His fellow generals, officers, and even the lowly ground soldiers were his brothers, he would die for any one of them. But there was a difference with this one. Subtle, but it was there.
This one he’d live for.
Tired, he slumped down onto the makeshift bed, not really noticing the coarseness of the blankets as he closed his eyes. Compared to the battlefield, anything at all, just the ability to stand still felt like a luxury. His eyes still closed, he heard the rustle of fabric as the other occupant of this small tent followed suit and rested on his blankets.
Heedless of the grime and bloodstains, too exhausted to care, he slept.
Metal clashed, the sounds of men shouting, the mud underfoot slippery with the blood of the fallen. Everything was a blur, just out of focus; the sounds of the battle so loud and yet so distant. Only one figure stood clear. Metal glinted in the muted sunlight and the figure fell.
He awoke suddenly, breathing hard. It slowed a little as he came round, a familiar voice asked if he needed anything.
“It was just a dream. I apologise for waking you.”
With that, he turned onto his side away from the voice. Satisfied he could hear the other’s steady breathing and chiding himself for acting like a child he fell into a deep and more restful sleep.
The small camp was eerily quiet yet busy. Fog hung in the air and clung with an uncomfortable chill and everyone worked with a silent determination. The small makeshift camp would be their home on the move for the next few weeks. Not even the intellectual prowess of Zhuge Liang had foreseen this attack; it had been swift and brutal, not allowing them time to gather more supplies or more comfortable provisions.
After a small, unsatisfying yet greatly appreciated meal and the closest he could achieve to a wash, he rubbed a sore shoulder and set to work preparing for the next attack they knew would be coming. In an atmosphere heavily weighed with uneasy expectation he noticed little beyond the chore that had his immediate attention. He gave little thought to his nightmare, he’d had it many times now over the years it had become like an old friend.
Originally he’d placed no significance to it beyond the discomfort he felt that a grown man shouldn’t be suffering from the insecurities of an infant. As the years had gone by, he’d learnt that nightmares came to even the most battle hardened of men and his discomfort shifted form. He recognised a pattern, the same dream involving the same person, and that during his waking hours he found himself fighting harder to watch the back of one man above all others.
Over time he noticed it was the same man who always seemed to be there for him. Frequently when the body of a would be attacker fell to his heels, it was the same spear that felled them. Then the nightmares had increased in frequency. The battles they had to fight had also grown, but he knew that the root of it didn’t lay with the battles any more. Only the possible consequences of them.
Occasionally his companion would throw him a questioning glance in his direction, which he would duly ignore. The subject wasn’t broached, they were as close as brothers and respect for privacy especially when they were practically living on top of each other was important for both of them.
He spent time talking to the men; morale was important in a place like this. They had driven off the attackers, but knew they would be back before reinforcements and supplies could arrive and this time the enemy would be better prepared. Soldiers kept looking round furtively like they were expecting enemy troops to suddenly descend on them like a monster from the fog. He also knew that despite well placed scouts, this was possible. The men didn’t need to know this.
The heavens were smiling that day and the fog had lifted so there had been no chance of any unseen attack.
---------------------------
Another battle, another victory and with it, a mixed sense of relief and dread. Relief that they had both lived and dread because for every battle survived meant being closer to the one you wouldn’t. He didn’t fear death; not his own. Anything left unsaid by his death would be just that, and would make no difference. But living with the knowledge that he never said anything while he could, that he didn’t want to face. Not that it changed anything, he still kept his thoughts to himself.
This time the dream was different. It was the same, but this time there was a crushing feeling in his chest as he watched the man die…
Unwilling to open his eyes, he lay in the dark hoping it had gone unnoticed. He listened, feeling that somehow the tent had become smaller but dismissed it as childish paranoia, he didn’t feel unsafe.
The feel of rough lips firmly pressing onto his jolted him out of any calmness he had finally regained. His eyes few open. “Zilong! What are you doing?!”
He couldn’t quite make it out but he could ‘feel’ Zhao Yun’s smile.
“Taking your mind off of your nightmare, Mengqi. Though it took me a long time to finally figure out how”
Ma Chao smiled slightly, it was the closest Zilong would ever come to admitting he’d been unsure of Ma Chao’s feelings. “And you thought this was the best way to go about that?”
There was a slightly gruff laugh. “Not all your dreams involve my death.”
LOL, told you it was baaaaaaaaaaad
CHEEEEEEEEEEESE, POSSIBLY WENDSLEYDALE, COULD BE EDAM CRACK CHEESE
IDEK. COMMENT BOX FICS ARE YOUR FWIEND. AT LEAST I DIDN'T DO IT ALL IN CAPS THIS TIEM?
Zhao Yun was hurt. Ma Chao scolded him like a child as he sat there bandaging the wound on Zilong's shapely calf for getting himself into trouble yet again trying to save a small child that had run onto the battle field.
"You should be more careful."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Ma Chao looked intently at the bandage he was fixing in place in an attempt to hide the blush that threatened to redden his ears, then he realised his ears were hidden under a large helmet so it was okay. He blushed fiercely safe in the knowledge Zhao Yun wouldn't notice. He muttered under his breath.
Zilong took this as a sign that Ma Chao was cross with him and tried to justify his actions. "I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt a small child ran onto the battlefield and I couldn't get there in time and it was crushed by an elephant. Then the elephant turned into Xiahou Dun who scraped up the squashed child - which had turned into trodden on Dumplings - and glared at me terribly." He sighed. "It turned out the child turned dumpling was the link connecting the entire of China and was your third cousin nine times removed."
"So that's why you ran to save that small child?"
"Yes."
Ma Chao in that moment realised that he loved Zhao Yun, but knew he could never speak of his burning desire, for Zhao Yun was more interested in saving small children and babies than mere affairs of the heart. This made Ma Chao woeful. The awkward blushing at the sight of Zhao Yun's leg also gave it away.
Zhao Yun looked down at Ma Chao sitting by his feet, still neatly tending to the bandage for it was a very long bandage. "You seem preoccupied."
"Oh, no. I'm not thinking at all." He kept his face neutral for he didn't wish to give away how he felt, not yet.
Ma Chao spent the next few weeks wandering about, fighting people from Wei in epic battles and saving peasants but everyone around him noticed he did it with less passion than usual.
"What's the matter, lad?" Huang Zhong asked him after a good day's saving peasants and they finally found time to get a drink.
"Oh, nothing." Ma Chao said despondently.
Huang Zhong thought maybe all the good weather they were having was causing Ma Chao's mood. "You know what we need. We need a good flood around here to liven things up."
A small candle lit in Ma Chao's head, now he knew how he could distract Zhao Yun from rescuing small children and Liu Bei for a little while.
Taking an extra bucket to the well, he drew himself a bucket of water and walked to Zhao Yun's tent. Luckily Zhao Yun was out and had left it unlocked. Letting himself in, he poured the water all over Zhao Yun's bed then took him and his bucket out of the tent, walked a little way down the path and threw the bucket in the bushes to hide the evidence.
He waited.
Zhao Yun came home later that evening as the sun was setting in the sky, the red-orangy colour reminding him of Lu Meng's bathrobe which he'd seen hanging up to dry once. He got into bed and slept soundly.
PT 2MA CHAO TAKES MANHATTAN
Ma Chao waited. Nothing happened for he didn't realise until the following day that the bed had dried in the heat and because Zilong had left the ceiling fan on.
He tried again with two buckets of water after rescuing the bucket from the bush and getting scratched by thorns.
This time the bed was slightly damp which Zhao Yun put down to high humidity and promptly changed the sheets.
Ma Chao cried. He was lonely and Wei Yan had fixed Zhao Yun's bandage the last time it needed changing because Ma Chao had been needed to save peasants at the time.
Eventually, Ma Chao found another bucket, to see if four buckets of water would do the trick. He also removed the tent pegs.
Later that evening he heard a knock on his tent door. Heart thumping, he opened it. His heart sank as he saw Wei Yan at the door.
"Blanket. Needed."
Ma Chao handed Wei Yan a spare blanket. He'd got the wrong tent.
Now he was becoming desperate. Zhao Yun had saved at least ten children and Ma Chao was no closer to being kissed than he was before this whole epic crap started. He needed to do something. Drastic.
Wrapping his thinnest blanket around his shoulders, he walked in the inky blue of the evening to Zhao Yun's tent. He knocked quietly.
A bleary eyed Zhao Yun opened the door. "Mengqi?"
"I'm cold." Ma Chao said simply.
"Oh." Zhao Yun looked thoughtful. "I have a blanket."
Ma chao looked at him. "That's nice for you?"
A smile ran across Zilong's face. "No, I mean I have one we can share." He looked shy.
Ma Chao followed Zhao Yun into his tent, trying hard not to crow in triumph at getting inside the tent without breaking and entering. He sat next to Zhao Yun and snuggled under the blanket with him.
"I was surprised you came here." Zilong said. "I would have thought after all those buckets of water on his bed, you were after Wei Yan."
"Wei...Yan..." Ma Chao said slowly. Had he been getting the wrong tent all the time? Then what had made Zhao Yun's bed damp, had it been humidity after all?
"That's why I never said anything. I thought we could...well, you know. I like saving peasants, you like saving peasant...it seemed logical...but then you started trying to court Wei Yan, or so I thought, and..." Zilong blushed fiercely and trailed off.
"But I like you!" Ma Chao blurted out and instantly blushed.
After a small blushing competition on who could blush the most, Ma Chao tentatively leant forward and planted a small kiss on Zhao Yuns lips, which grew and bloomed into a full snog.
They smiled awkwardly at each other and looked forward to a happy life together saving peasants and small children.
"Wei Yan will be disappointed you know." Zhao Yun giggled.
The End.
FIC TIEM
Ma Chao/Zhao Yun (a Jiang Wei is fine, too) - both too scared to admit how they feel to the other in case they don't feel the same. Woe and then kissing, plz. Bonus points if bad dreams/sharing blankets/bandaging wounds/etc is involved.
I CRAVE FANFICTION CHEESE.
The battle had been hard. And yet again it had been the same spear watching his back as it always had been ever since he’d taken up his post. And he’d always felt compelled, within the boundaries of achieving his orders of course, to watch the same back with his spear.
He’d spent a long time dismissing it, that he’d do the same for any other man he stood with. To a degree, he was right. He would. His fellow generals, officers, and even the lowly ground soldiers were his brothers, he would die for any one of them. But there was a difference with this one. Subtle, but it was there.
This one he’d live for.
Tired, he slumped down onto the makeshift bed, not really noticing the coarseness of the blankets as he closed his eyes. Compared to the battlefield, anything at all, just the ability to stand still felt like a luxury. His eyes still closed, he heard the rustle of fabric as the other occupant of this small tent followed suit and rested on his blankets.
Heedless of the grime and bloodstains, too exhausted to care, he slept.
Metal clashed, the sounds of men shouting, the mud underfoot slippery with the blood of the fallen. Everything was a blur, just out of focus; the sounds of the battle so loud and yet so distant. Only one figure stood clear. Metal glinted in the muted sunlight and the figure fell.
He awoke suddenly, breathing hard. It slowed a little as he came round, a familiar voice asked if he needed anything.
“It was just a dream. I apologise for waking you.”
With that, he turned onto his side away from the voice. Satisfied he could hear the other’s steady breathing and chiding himself for acting like a child he fell into a deep and more restful sleep.
The small camp was eerily quiet yet busy. Fog hung in the air and clung with an uncomfortable chill and everyone worked with a silent determination. The small makeshift camp would be their home on the move for the next few weeks. Not even the intellectual prowess of Zhuge Liang had foreseen this attack; it had been swift and brutal, not allowing them time to gather more supplies or more comfortable provisions.
After a small, unsatisfying yet greatly appreciated meal and the closest he could achieve to a wash, he rubbed a sore shoulder and set to work preparing for the next attack they knew would be coming. In an atmosphere heavily weighed with uneasy expectation he noticed little beyond the chore that had his immediate attention. He gave little thought to his nightmare, he’d had it many times now over the years it had become like an old friend.
Originally he’d placed no significance to it beyond the discomfort he felt that a grown man shouldn’t be suffering from the insecurities of an infant. As the years had gone by, he’d learnt that nightmares came to even the most battle hardened of men and his discomfort shifted form. He recognised a pattern, the same dream involving the same person, and that during his waking hours he found himself fighting harder to watch the back of one man above all others.
Over time he noticed it was the same man who always seemed to be there for him. Frequently when the body of a would be attacker fell to his heels, it was the same spear that felled them. Then the nightmares had increased in frequency. The battles they had to fight had also grown, but he knew that the root of it didn’t lay with the battles any more. Only the possible consequences of them.
Occasionally his companion would throw him a questioning glance in his direction, which he would duly ignore. The subject wasn’t broached, they were as close as brothers and respect for privacy especially when they were practically living on top of each other was important for both of them.
He spent time talking to the men; morale was important in a place like this. They had driven off the attackers, but knew they would be back before reinforcements and supplies could arrive and this time the enemy would be better prepared. Soldiers kept looking round furtively like they were expecting enemy troops to suddenly descend on them like a monster from the fog. He also knew that despite well placed scouts, this was possible. The men didn’t need to know this.
The heavens were smiling that day and the fog had lifted so there had been no chance of any unseen attack.
---------------------------
Another battle, another victory and with it, a mixed sense of relief and dread. Relief that they had both lived and dread because for every battle survived meant being closer to the one you wouldn’t. He didn’t fear death; not his own. Anything left unsaid by his death would be just that, and would make no difference. But living with the knowledge that he never said anything while he could, that he didn’t want to face. Not that it changed anything, he still kept his thoughts to himself.
This time the dream was different. It was the same, but this time there was a crushing feeling in his chest as he watched the man die…
Unwilling to open his eyes, he lay in the dark hoping it had gone unnoticed. He listened, feeling that somehow the tent had become smaller but dismissed it as childish paranoia, he didn’t feel unsafe.
The feel of rough lips firmly pressing onto his jolted him out of any calmness he had finally regained. His eyes few open. “Zilong! What are you doing?!”
He couldn’t quite make it out but he could ‘feel’ Zhao Yun’s smile.
“Taking your mind off of your nightmare, Mengqi. Though it took me a long time to finally figure out how”
Ma Chao smiled slightly, it was the closest Zilong would ever come to admitting he’d been unsure of Ma Chao’s feelings. “And you thought this was the best way to go about that?”
There was a slightly gruff laugh. “Not all your dreams involve my death.”
LOL, told you it was baaaaaaaaaaad
CHEEEEEEEEEEESE, POSSIBLY WENDSLEYDALE, COULD BE EDAM CRACK CHEESE
IDEK. COMMENT BOX FICS ARE YOUR FWIEND. AT LEAST I DIDN'T DO IT ALL IN CAPS THIS TIEM?
Zhao Yun was hurt. Ma Chao scolded him like a child as he sat there bandaging the wound on Zilong's shapely calf for getting himself into trouble yet again trying to save a small child that had run onto the battle field.
"You should be more careful."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Ma Chao looked intently at the bandage he was fixing in place in an attempt to hide the blush that threatened to redden his ears, then he realised his ears were hidden under a large helmet so it was okay. He blushed fiercely safe in the knowledge Zhao Yun wouldn't notice. He muttered under his breath.
Zilong took this as a sign that Ma Chao was cross with him and tried to justify his actions. "I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt a small child ran onto the battlefield and I couldn't get there in time and it was crushed by an elephant. Then the elephant turned into Xiahou Dun who scraped up the squashed child - which had turned into trodden on Dumplings - and glared at me terribly." He sighed. "It turned out the child turned dumpling was the link connecting the entire of China and was your third cousin nine times removed."
"So that's why you ran to save that small child?"
"Yes."
Ma Chao in that moment realised that he loved Zhao Yun, but knew he could never speak of his burning desire, for Zhao Yun was more interested in saving small children and babies than mere affairs of the heart. This made Ma Chao woeful. The awkward blushing at the sight of Zhao Yun's leg also gave it away.
Zhao Yun looked down at Ma Chao sitting by his feet, still neatly tending to the bandage for it was a very long bandage. "You seem preoccupied."
"Oh, no. I'm not thinking at all." He kept his face neutral for he didn't wish to give away how he felt, not yet.
Ma Chao spent the next few weeks wandering about, fighting people from Wei in epic battles and saving peasants but everyone around him noticed he did it with less passion than usual.
"What's the matter, lad?" Huang Zhong asked him after a good day's saving peasants and they finally found time to get a drink.
"Oh, nothing." Ma Chao said despondently.
Huang Zhong thought maybe all the good weather they were having was causing Ma Chao's mood. "You know what we need. We need a good flood around here to liven things up."
A small candle lit in Ma Chao's head, now he knew how he could distract Zhao Yun from rescuing small children and Liu Bei for a little while.
Taking an extra bucket to the well, he drew himself a bucket of water and walked to Zhao Yun's tent. Luckily Zhao Yun was out and had left it unlocked. Letting himself in, he poured the water all over Zhao Yun's bed then took him and his bucket out of the tent, walked a little way down the path and threw the bucket in the bushes to hide the evidence.
He waited.
Zhao Yun came home later that evening as the sun was setting in the sky, the red-orangy colour reminding him of Lu Meng's bathrobe which he'd seen hanging up to dry once. He got into bed and slept soundly.
PT 2
Ma Chao waited. Nothing happened for he didn't realise until the following day that the bed had dried in the heat and because Zilong had left the ceiling fan on.
He tried again with two buckets of water after rescuing the bucket from the bush and getting scratched by thorns.
This time the bed was slightly damp which Zhao Yun put down to high humidity and promptly changed the sheets.
Ma Chao cried. He was lonely and Wei Yan had fixed Zhao Yun's bandage the last time it needed changing because Ma Chao had been needed to save peasants at the time.
Eventually, Ma Chao found another bucket, to see if four buckets of water would do the trick. He also removed the tent pegs.
Later that evening he heard a knock on his tent door. Heart thumping, he opened it. His heart sank as he saw Wei Yan at the door.
"Blanket. Needed."
Ma Chao handed Wei Yan a spare blanket. He'd got the wrong tent.
Now he was becoming desperate. Zhao Yun had saved at least ten children and Ma Chao was no closer to being kissed than he was before this whole epic crap started. He needed to do something. Drastic.
Wrapping his thinnest blanket around his shoulders, he walked in the inky blue of the evening to Zhao Yun's tent. He knocked quietly.
A bleary eyed Zhao Yun opened the door. "Mengqi?"
"I'm cold." Ma Chao said simply.
"Oh." Zhao Yun looked thoughtful. "I have a blanket."
Ma chao looked at him. "That's nice for you?"
A smile ran across Zilong's face. "No, I mean I have one we can share." He looked shy.
Ma Chao followed Zhao Yun into his tent, trying hard not to crow in triumph at getting inside the tent without breaking and entering. He sat next to Zhao Yun and snuggled under the blanket with him.
"I was surprised you came here." Zilong said. "I would have thought after all those buckets of water on his bed, you were after Wei Yan."
"Wei...Yan..." Ma Chao said slowly. Had he been getting the wrong tent all the time? Then what had made Zhao Yun's bed damp, had it been humidity after all?
"That's why I never said anything. I thought we could...well, you know. I like saving peasants, you like saving peasant...it seemed logical...but then you started trying to court Wei Yan, or so I thought, and..." Zilong blushed fiercely and trailed off.
"But I like you!" Ma Chao blurted out and instantly blushed.
After a small blushing competition on who could blush the most, Ma Chao tentatively leant forward and planted a small kiss on Zhao Yuns lips, which grew and bloomed into a full snog.
They smiled awkwardly at each other and looked forward to a happy life together saving peasants and small children.
"Wei Yan will be disappointed you know." Zhao Yun giggled.
The End.
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lol, it's not baaaaaaad.
And the second one just... lol. A thousand times LOL. *adds to memories for lolz*
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I have so much fun writing crack fics.
But after I've finished drawing Gan Ning and Ling Tong (I'm drawing again yay! It's not great but it's better than nothing), I need to draw Batman running along pushing Robin in a wheelie bin.
IDEK.
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Batman.
Wheelie bin...
Robin?
YOUR MIND. IT IS BIZARRE.
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I KNOW. I'VE LEARNT TO ACCEPT IT.
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