#Yes I promise I will get back to Magic and Miracles and Beyond

[thecandywrites]

Kinktober Day 29- Body Worship

Now you know, I had to go full Raelena on this one. Because the ongoing theme of Magic and Miracles is how Ravus practically worships the ground Selena walks on and is unshamedly and unabashidly completely and utterly devoted to her.

But in this one, I wanted it to be mostly from Selena's perspective about how she adores the man that Ravus has become. Especially since when she first met him, he was a dick, a fuck boy if you will. And then he realized that the boy he was- was not good enough for the woman that she was and so he grew up and grew out of his dickish ways and became the best version of himself which is all Selena wanted and had seen long before others ever could.

Just one more. Day 30 because I already did Day 31 and that one had been on time! The only one that I did on time too lol.

Countless thanks to @starsandskies for her kinktober prompts for 2022. You have no idea how this has saved my life. Literally.

Kinktober Day 29- Body Worship

Selena woke up and smiled happily when Ravus was still asleep. 

Ravus was a morning person. But last night he had outdone himself, so she simply laid there, admiring how handsome her husband was. 

Suddenly it hit her. 

Ravus was now officially her husband. 

It had felt like a tiny eternity to get to this moment. 

First, he had been an acquaintance, then a friend. Then more than a friend. Then boyfriend, then fiance. And now, husband. He was her husband and would be till death did they part. 

Their wedding had been perfect. Planned to a T. Every little detail accounted for and it was her dream wedding and then so much more. Thanks to Chelsea, the most amazing wedding planner ever. No stress, no anxiety, no problems, no worries. Just ease, happiness and delight. 

Dany had been the perfect flower girl. The twins had been so good and tottled down that aisle and practically ran into Ravus’ arms before his mother and hers had gotten them from him so that she could come down the aisle herself. 

And even though Selena had every friend and cousin she knew of and beyond as a bridesmaid. Even Ravus’ own cousins from Sweden and France and her own cousins from Greece came to this wedding and were in this wedding. Hell Ravus didn’t even know the names of all of her other cousins that had to be his groomsman. Usually such a thing tended to spiral weddings out of control. But not hers. The more the merrier actually.

But despite their extraordinary large wedding party and thanks to Sylva getting extra dresses in every size possible just in case any of the girls didn’t fit into their dresses that they originally ordered, as well as suits. Which ended up being a lifesaver for Ada because her pregnant belly had seemed to be ready to pop and Selena worried London was going to be born during the wedding. 

But all was well. Her scars from her accident only 9 months before were barely noticeable and no longer hurt her as she had healed at an almost miraculous rate. Thankfully Selena’s cast came off just in time for her own wedding so she didn’t need to go down the aisle, still in an arm cast. 

She still danced the night away with Ravus, and she couldn’t think of a single thing she didn’t like or wished was different about it and was perfectly happy with all of it. But most of all, she was happiest, with Ravus. 

She glanced down at her wedding ring and smiled as a sense of deja-vu. The fact that Ravus’ father Victor had designed and commissioned this ring before he died of cancer, she felt proud yet humbled to wear such a precious thing. Not for what the ring was worth as far as rose gold and diamonds. But the sheer sentimental value of it. And the fact that Ravus still had the copyrighted designs meant that others could be commissioned so that it would be a Nox Fleuret family design that any and all children could choose to have if they so wished since Victor had designed three for Luna and three for Ravus. And Selena had picked one of Luna’s designs that she felt in her soul and in her bones was her destined ring. She had dreamed of it before she ever got to see it and putting it on felt like magic and destiny and it had filled her with excitement and happiness. 

Tomorrow though, she would be going on the honeymoon to end all honeymoons all across Europe, or at least, that's what Ravus kept on insisting it would be since he had everything already all planned out.

But that was tomorrow. 

Today, was her first morning as Mrs. Nox Fleuret and beside her was her favorite person in the world. Her very loving husband, Ravus Victor Nox Fleuret, who she loved with every fiber of her being and couldn’t imagine her life without him. 

She had been terrified when she was in her car accident that her life was about to end and all the dreams she had of a future with Ravus were going to end up being only dreams. 

But thankfully she survived and she was now more determined than ever to never have anything ever threaten her and Ravus’ lives and relationship. They were just too precious to her. And she knew Ravus felt the same way. And as much as she initially chafed at the way Ravus tried to baby her, she also knew that he was just as scared as she had been of losing her the way she was scared of losing him. 

But she understood why he was doing it. But they both overcame their fears and instead of letting that fear paralyze them. They confronted it and armed themselves with knowledge and prepared themselves just in case anything like it ever happened again. They both took defensive driving courses. Then stunt driver courses. Then first aid courses. Then helicopter lessons. And buying the safest cars with extra protective measures installed. Just in case.

All while she pursued her career that she never thought or imagined she would have. And that was as an interior designer for Fosters Interior Designs Incorporated while she earned her degree to design homes from the inside out. 

And while she had her own house fully designed and planned out and construction had already began, and all of her friend’s houses were also designed planned and now also beginning construction. And in those processes, seemed to have nailed down a system of figuring out people’s tastes. And while it wasn’t perfect. It was better than just blindly pulling stuff out of her ass, that she felt like she had done in the beginning. But the more clients she acquired, the better her skills at reading them and discerning what they really wanted became sharper and better honed. She had always loved combing through Better Homes and Gardens magazines. But now, she felt like she was living them. And thankfully word about her talent soon spread so that she had quite the waiting list of clients for when she would come back from her honeymoon too.

But all of that seemed a world away. Because right now, her world consisted of just herself and Ravus in this rediculously comfortable bed in their hotel suite. 

She cuddled into his side and hugged him tightly before she felt his hold instinctively tighten around her as his breath sucked in deeply as he seemed to wake up to the feel of her kissing his cheek then his mouth as he happily and instinctively turned his head to kiss her more. 

“Good morning Darling.” Ravus cooed dreamily as his eyes slowly opened as his smile bloomed on his face. 

“Good morning My Love.” Selena cooed back as he rolled onto his side so he could envelope her in his arms and hug her tightly before dipping his head down to kiss her some more before she hiked her leg up over his hip as his hand happily stroked up her thigh to grab her amazing ass.

Then she used her strength to get on top of him and began to worship his body with her own as she wanted to leave no inch of skin that her mouth could reach untouched and unloved as she grinded her center over his morning wood to keep it hard before he grabbed her by the hips and pushed her to be fully seated on him as they both sighed at being rejoined before she sat up to really gain more power and traction as he was happy to hold her up by her breasts that he continued to softly knead while she held his forearms and lulled her head back, happy to reveal every hickey and love bite on her neck and chest and beyond. 

The moment her face started to contort in concentration though, Ravus’ hand immediately went to hold her right side where she had broken her ribs. 

“Are you ok Darling?” Ravus asked as he pulled himself out of the lustful haze to search her face and body for any other signs of pain. 

“Yes, I told you, I healed. I’m ok. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Selena insisted as she gently guided his hand from her side back to her breast. 

“I was just focusing on the pleasure and getting on the highway to orgasm. That’s all.” She insisted as she raked her nails up and down his arms to hold his arms there to support her upper body as she leaned into his hold as her hips were happy to instinctually follow the now, familiar path to ecstasy. 

“Ok, but if…” Ravus began to say before she leaned forward to put her finger over his lips to keep him from finishing that sentence. 

“I will stop if it hurts. But it hasn’t hurt in months. It never hurt last night. I doubt it’s going to hurt today or tomorrow or anytime soon.” She insisted. 

“But for now, let me enjoy my first ride on my husband as Mrs. Nox Fleuret.” She added with a meaningful smile. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He hummed a laugh and was happy to support her as she took the reins and set the pace and just stared up in awed wonder that such a magnificent woman was his wife as he eyed the wedding band that went with her wedding ring with pride.

The only thing that had been missing yesterday was his father’s physical presence. But mentally, emotionally and spiritually, he had felt him there and all throughout the wedding yesterday Ravus swore he saw flashes of his father there, sitting with his mother, dancing with her. And then to have Regis, his step dad, read out his own father’s wedding toast he had written out before he died, there wasn’t a dry eye in the reception hall before Sylva revealed a tape that Victor had previously recorded, both for Luna’s wedding and for his own to be played. 

Granted, it had been recorded when his dad was obviously sick and dying but to see and hear him on the screen was almost as good as if he had been there in person. And Victor’s predictions about what kind of woman he wanted his son to marry, almost eerily matched Selena to a T. In an almost uncanny way too.

But in a way that only made Ravus happy that his father had been right all along. Even eight years in the past at the time of the recording. It had been the only “surprise” in the wedding that he gave his mother credit for keeping under wraps until the big reveal.

Just like she had done for Luna’s wedding only six months prior. Even his father’s predictions about Nyx were eerily and uncanny in their accuracy. But it only helped both Luna and Nyx and himself and Selena feel that they were making the right decisions about their marriage mates, and that Victor had already given his stamp of approval in a way. 

And now that Ravus was staring up at his own Mrs. Nox Fleuret, he couldn’t be happier or prouder about his choice. Especially to see her find and enjoy her due pleasure from him. 

He moved his hands from her breasts to her hips to help her find her finish easier and faster and to see her and hear her gasp, keen and moan as she did so was still the most beautiful and amazing sight to his eyes as he soon followed behind her before she opened her eyes and smiled brightly as she basked in the afterglow as she lowed herself to lay over him and catch her breath and recover from her exertion. 

Selena, was actually, quite proud of herself for that feat and even happier when she felt Ravus orgasm too. She was happy to lay her head on his chest, her ear over his heart that she knew beat only for her while she knew that hers beat only for him. For always and forever.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Ruki Maniac [Epilogue]

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

ー The scene starts in an unknown manor

Ruki: ...Haah.

Yui: Everything alright?

Ruki: I’m fine...However, it can’t be denied that this place holds many bad memories for me. I can’t help but feel somewhat down.

Yui: You had...a good reason for coming here regardless, right?

Ruki: ...Yes.

This is hardly the time to ponder over bad memories from the past. I will go investigate, so you stay here. 

I’ve made arrangements so we can stay here in comfort for a while. Will you be alright without me?

Yui: ( I guess he doesn’t want me to tag along... )

...Yeah, sure. I’ll wait here, okay? 

Ruki: Sorry for leaving you behind. I’ll get going now.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: ...Ruki-kun!

Ruki: What’s wrong?

Yui: I’ll be waiting so...Come back soon, okay?

Ruki: ...

ー He approaches her

Ruki: Don’t look so anxious. ...It’ll be okay. I promise I’ll be back.

Yui: Yeah...I’ll be waiting.

Ruki: I’ll try to come home as soon as I can. ...Nn. 

*Smooch*

ー He leaves

Yui: ( ...My worries got the best of me and I stopped him from leaving. )

( I’m sure that this place brings back lots of complicated emotions for Ruki-kun...So I’m worried. )

ー The scene shifts to the city

Ruki: ( ...I should have expected as much, but things have changed overtime. )

( Yet, the memories of this place which have been engraved in my mind have not disappeared at all. )

( That being said, there was only so much information I could gain in the Demon World. )

( That is why it was necessary to come here. To this place...which lies the closest to the history of Trismégiste. )

( As uncomfortable as it makes me feel, I must go. ...I suppose the library would be my best bet if I want to search through documents. )

ー The scene shifts to the Romanian library

Ruki: ( There are quite a few books on the topic seeing as this is the country of its origin. I suppose I made the right choice by coming here. )

( ...I am sure there are things I would rather not know inside these books as well. )

( I have to make up my mind. For Eden and my brothers as well. ...I must not turn a blind eye to the truth. )

Monologue

In what followed, I began to collect a wide selection of books,

before starting to read through them one by one. 

And by working my way through that enormous mountain of books,

there were a few things I learnt about.

For starters, there most definitely lived a man named Trimégiste,

in this country at some point.

This individual in question possessed mysterious powers,

as it was rumored he wandered from town to town,

to heal the sick and diseased.

This rumor eventually caught the attention,

of the President who had a daughter who suffered from a severe illness. 

When Trismégiste managed to magically heal his daughter as well,

the President did not hesitate for a single second,

and put his full faith into Trismégiste. 

That is how the two of them became friends. 

However, it should go without saying,

that not everyone was so thrilled about this turn of events. 

The noblemen and politicians, for example.

Ever since he managed to get on the President’s good side,

he would soon enough become the target,

of several people trying to bring him down or even assassinate him,

but none of those attempts were successful.

No matter how dire the situation may seem,

he would once again rise from the ashes like a Phoenix time after time.

A certain someone would describe his ability to always narrowly escape death,

 far beyond the point of it being sheer luck, as follows:

ーー ‘That man is the Devil.’ 

Meanwhile the President saw his survival as a miracle,

and only became more and more captivated by Trismégiste. 

Whatever it was he wished for,

the President would make sure it happened.

This marked the beginning of the downfall of the whole nation.

As a result of being won over by Trismégiste’s sweet words,

the President decided to completely cut ties,

with all the people who had supported him thus far. 

He even began to use the Nation’s public funds,

imposing high taxes on the masses. 

To keep the population and taxation yields high,

the abortion law was abolished,

but those living in poverty did not have the extra money to raise a child.

As a result, many were abandoned by their parents at birth,

as young children who grew up on the streets or inside the sewers,

began to terrorize the city.

This crisis went on for many years,

but eventually a time would come where the population revolted.

This would go down in history as ‘the Revolution’. (1)

The President was executed at the end of this Revolution,

as the population finally regained its freedom.

Trismégiste was said to have been supporting his dictatorship from behind the scenes,

and was therefore executed alongside him,

by being publically hung on the town’s square...or that was the plan, at least.

However, they say that his corpse,

mysteriously vanished in thin air.

And nobody knows what happened to him afterwards. 

ーー Any book covering the story of Trismégiste,

ends with his execution and disappearance. 

But there is one writing,

which mentions that perhaps a loyal follower of Trismégiste,

might have carried his corpse away after his death.

However, this is but a mere speculation,

and nobody knows what actually happened.

Ruki: ( ...I suppose the information I gained at the Sakamaki Castle was correct after all. )

( The President’s dictatorship. Many abandoned children, the Revolution...These are all things I remember from my personal past as well. )

( Since I was born into a rich family, I did not experience all of these struggles first-hand, but it can’t be denied that such a tragedy took place in this country. )

( I was too arrogant to realize that I would get involved in all of it. However, I had no idea... )

( That behind the scenes...there was someone pulling all of the strings, Trismégiste. )

ー Ruki recalls his Father’s words again

Ruki’s Father: He whispered a couple of sweet words into the president’s ear and had me removed by the president himself! How am I supposed to stay positive under these circumstances!? 

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( I suppose it was also his fault that my Father, who was a merchant as well as a member of the council, was removed from his position. )

( Because of this man, Fatherーー )

( ...On that fateful day, he took his own life. )

( It was not just my Father I lost. My Mother no longer harbored any feelings for my Father after the situation had changed him and decided to leave the house together with her new lover. )

( That is how I was brought out into the world, all alone...having lost my family, my money as well as my home. )

( ーー If Trismégiste has actually been Karlheinz-sama all along. )

( It would mean that I...have been loyally serving the very same man...who is responsible for ruining my biological Father...? )

...That is simply too ridiculous for words...

ー Another flashback to his childhood ensues

Ruki’s Mother: ーー Ruki! Ruki, are you there?

Ruki: Yes, Mother. Did you call me?

Ruki’s Mother: Aah, so that’s where you’ve been. Say, do you know what day it is today?

Ruki: Of course! It’s Father’s birthday, correct?

Ruki’s Mother: Fufu, exactly. I believe he will be home early today, so let’s all celebrate together, shall we?

Ruki: Yes. ..I wonder if he’ll be happy with my present?

Ruki’s Mother: Of course he’ll be? It’s a gift from his beloved son after all. He might just burst out into tears. 

Ruki: Fufu, I hope so.

Ruki’s Father: I’m home! I just got back.

Ruki: Ah! Welcome back, Father!

ー Ruki runs up to his Father

Ruki’s Mother: Hey, Ruki! You shouldn’t run inside the house! ...Fufu, good grief. 

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( ...Sure, I may have resented them for abandoning me at some point. )

( But up until that day I lost everything, they had always been fine parents which I could be proud of. )

( If only Father had not resorted to alcohol to solve his issues and taken his anger out on my Mother... )

( Even if we would have lost our money, I am sure that my family wouldn’t have broken apart. I don’t think either of them would have abandoned me either... )

( If it wasn’t for Trismégiste, we would have remained happy. ...Howeverーー )

ー The scene shifts to a flashback at Eden

Karlheinz: ーー Ruki. There is something I want you to know.

Ruki: Yes, Karlheinz-sama. What is it?

Karlheinz: Listen carefully. Truth is more than what meets the eye.

Ruki: ...? What do you mean?

Karlheinz: In this world, sometimes the most important things are the ones we cannot see.

You are the only one who can decide whether the things you’ve seen are right or not.

That is why you must never rush a judgement. Although I am sure that a clever boy such as yourself will be able to do that.

Ruki: I understand. If that’s what you want.

ー The flashback ends

Ruki: ( ...Right now, Karlheinz-sama’s teachings are all that I have left. )

( I respected him. That is why I didn’t want to admit it. ーー I didn’t want to have my feelings betrayed again. )

( ...However, actually, from the very beginningーー )

...!

ー Ruki rushes outside to throw up

Ruki: Uu...! ...Haah, haah...!

( Stop it...Don’t assume the worst...! )

( Nothing is certain yet. I shouldn’t...think these things...when I don’t have conclusive proof yet... )

( I must not suspect that man...! )

Hah...Haah...

???: ...Need some help?

Ruki: ...Don’t touch me!!

???: My apologies...You seemed to be feeling unwell. Perhaps I should have minded my own business?

Ruki: No...I’m sorry as well. Don’t take it personally...

ー Ruki walks away

??? A: ...

??? B: Fufu, seems like he took a huge hit.

Kino: He didn’t even recognize you, nor realized that I was closeby.

So? Did you figure out what he looked into just now?

Yuuri: Yes, of course.

Kino: I expected no less from you. Then, could you update me on the way? I’d like to keep the investigation going for now.

That being said...He really radiates those typically human vibes. 

I don’t know what exactly he was researching but did you see how pale his face looked? I can’t believe that guy’s actually a Vampire. 

ー The scene shifts back to the unknown manor

*Tick・tock・tick・tock*

Yui: ( ...Ruki-kun’s sure taking a while. It’s already late. )

( Did something happen perhaps...? Perhaps I should go look for him? But I probably shouldn’t wander around on my oーー )

ー Somebody enters the house

Yui: ( ...! Seems like he’s back. )

ー Ruki enters the room

Yui: Welcome back. Thank god...I was worried. 

Ruki: ...

Yui: Ruki-kun...?

( It’s almost like...He can’t hear me. Also, his complexion is sheer white... )

What’s wrong? Everything alright...?

Ruki: ...Yeah...You waited for me to eat, huh? 

...My bad. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep anything down right now.

Yui: Did something happen...?

Ruki: ...I haven’t gotten everything sorted out inside my head yet. Please give me some time alone...

ー Ruki leaves the room

Yui: ( What on earth happened...? )

ー The scene shifts to the outside

Kino: So he entered his room. I don’t think we should expect much else from him for today.

That being said...What was that man’s name again?

Yuuri: Trismégiste, Kino.

KIno: Yeah, that one. Trismégiste. From what I’ve heard, that guy was most likely a Demon of some sorts but...

Still, the rumors are rather intriguing, don’t you think? Do you think it’s true that at the time the Revolution took place, he went around the city and collected people’s corpses?

Yuuri: Who knows, it’s called a rumor for a reason.

However, it is true that some stories still state that Trismégiste left the city with the corpses of those who lost their lives during the Revolution. 

Kino: For what reason? Was he a corpse collector, perhaps?

Yuuri: Perhaps he moved them to a proper graveyard?

Kino: Then there’s Ruki as well...There’s some things that caught my interest. I suppose I should do some digging myself.

Yuuri: In that case, how about asking the Ghouls for help?

Many of them are natives to this country. There might even be those who are directly related to this case.

Kino: I see. I suppose I’ll do that then. ...I might be able to get some intel from one of them.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) I’m no history expert, but I do believe that the games made their own version of the Romanian Revolution which took place in 1989. 

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

do you see the light (at the end of the tunnel)

Summary: Guerin was incredibly lucky not to have short circuited his own heart in his attempt at restarting Alex’s – something Kyle had admonished him for repeatedly since then.

-

Follow up to I can hear the sound of your barely beating heart

Word Count: 2,612

[Also on AO3]

Guerin was incredibly lucky not to have short circuited his own heart in his attempt at restarting Alex’s – something Kyle had admonished him for repeatedly since then.

He had succeeded in passing out in a rather dramatic fashion at Liz’s feet, scaring the life out of Isobel and leaving Kyle with yet another patient to deal with. But, he supposed, it was much better than the alternative. And after feeling rough for a day – regardless of the gallon of acetone he had chugged – he had soon been back to his normal self.

Not that Kyle was complaining (for once). He couldn’t imagine what Alex would do to him if he found out that his boyfriend had sacrificed his life in order to raise him from the dead. 

Kyle was definitely taking partial credit for that by the way. Guerin may have used his magical glowy hand, but the tests they had run since then revealed that his and Liz’s serum had fused to Alex’s cells, the handprint had just given it the jump start it needed.

It was still crazy to think about. The feat they had achieved with only a few science nerds and some alien DNA. He and Liz had literally pulled off the impossible, bringing a human being— bringing their best friend back to life. 

They wouldn’t have pulled any of it off without his uncle’s powerful, pro-alien organisation, of course. The tech at Deep Sky had been invaluable not to mention the private space they had been afforded. All employees were very serious about their oath to secrecy regarding what they worked on and witnessed within that building, but it was still nice to know they didn’t have to worry about any ex-boyfriends sneaking around trying to scoop out their scientific discoveries. 

He understood why his uncle had been wary when he and Alex had first started to bring everyone into the fold. Eduardo had employed them not their friends. And that was only after extensive background checks. (Yes, even on his own nephew). 

This time, he’d welcomed them with open arms if it meant finding a cure for Alex.

Not that it should ever have been needed.

Alex should never have ended up in that situation. 

He had been so close to leaving the Air Force. So close to getting out. And he’d told Kyle as much over a beer at the Wild Pony some weeks before his death. He had only stayed in order to investigate the last vestiges of Project Shepard that he suspected was still active but he’d promised Kyle – he’d promised himself – that his next mission would be his last. 

Oh, how right he was.

When he’d bumped into Kyle on the morning of his last assignment, he’d mentioned his certainty that his father still had a hold on a small corner of the military and that the mission he was being sent on could very well prove the connection he’d been looking for.

He’d made Kyle promise not to tell Michael – that his boyfriend would just worry endlessly until he returned. Not that Kyle would have blamed him. 

When the call came in about Alex’s death, he knew his friend’s suspicions had been true. And he wished beyond anything that he had stopped him from going. 

Getting the news had been like a hundred punches to the stomach, winding him instantly. In fact, it felt like he had been holding his breath ever since Isobel had called. His lungs closing in on themselves, refusing to take in any air until his friend could do the same, as if it was the least they could do.

But there was time to unpack his guilt later. For now, he was more than happy to focus on the miracle of a fact that Alex Manes was alive. 

There was just the minor issue of him not having woken up yet.

Entering the Deep Sky infirmary, he was unsurprised to see that the familiar scene before him was unchanged since his last check in. Alex was reclined on the bed, eyes closed in a seemingly endless sleep, the few screens surrounding him beeping steadily. 

The EKG leads snaking under the collar of his loose-fitting t-shirt were just a precaution, a way for Kyle to monitor his condition easily and put his mind at ease for when he wasn’t in the room. For all intents and purposes, Alex seemed to be okay, his recent brush with death having left no ill effects on his body.

Glued to his side, Guerin didn’t look to have moved an inch in the hour that Kyle was out of the room. He’d been waiting patiently, diligently, (relentlessly) since Alex had taken his first breath a few days ago and lack of sleep was definitely going to catch up with him at some point. Kyle had tried to make him take a break, but if there was one thing Michael Guerin wasn’t going to do, it was listen to a Valenti. 

He was looking better though, in a way. Still tired, but less dishevelled. Less of a wreck. The past month had been hard on all of them but none more than Michael. For a rough, tough cowboy, always eager to put up a front, he hadn’t been far off from completely breaking apart. And even Kyle had to admit, that had been difficult to witness.

But the hardest part was over now, Alex was alive and that was their only focus.

Guerin didn’t react as Kyle entered the room, one hand propping up his chin whilst the other rested gently atop Alex’s, his thumb lazily tracing the grooves of his boyfriend’s knuckles. His gaze only wandered away from Alex’s lax features once Kyle was close enough to survey the monitors, but he had a feeling Guerin was paying more attention to the up and down of the waveform than he was to the doctor reading them.

It was a common sight at the hospital – relatives not wanting to stray too far from their loved ones for fear of the worst. Sometimes they would stare at the screens for hours without really knowing what the flashing numbers meant, just on the lookout for the first warning sign that something was wrong. Anything to feel useful.

It was a horrible responsibility for someone to put on themselves, but he was kind of glad Alex had someone in his life that would do the same for him.

He’d seen the connection between the two of them for some time, even back in high school when he’d secretly kept track on Alex in between his macho need to torment him. He had to thank teenage Kyle for having a modicum of sense back then and not sabotaging Alex’s life entirely.

Since they’d reconciled, he’d seen how cheerful Alex had been. The way he got all sappy when he talked about Guerin, blush creeping up his cheeks as if Kyle wasn’t aware of how absolutely head over heels he was.

And honestly, it made Kyle so damn happy. 

He glanced up from Alex’s chart, pen hovering above the paper mid-update, and over to Guerin with a look that obviously had the man spiralling into instant panic. 

“What’s wrong?” Guerin asked, eyes widening as his brow pulled down low. Kyle chose not to comment on the way he gripped Alex’s hand a little tighter.

“What’s wrong is that you’re still sitting here. I thought I told you to go home and rest.”

“Yeah, and I told you that I’m not going anywhere, Valenti.” His attempt at being disdainful failed, his usual level of snark muted drastically by the clear exhaustion hanging over him.

Kyle held back the exasperated sigh as he continued jotting down notes. He knew better than to argue against Guerin when he was like this. His first attempts at getting him to leave had ended with raised voices and more accidentally exploded light bulbs and he couldn’t imagine Eduardo would be best pleased with more of his property being destroyed. 

He could feel Guerin’s eyes on him, watching him carefully as he wrote, so obvious in his concern.

“Is something wrong?” Guerin asked him gingerly as he placed the clipboard on the table, and he forced himself to hold back another sigh for a completely different reason.

“No.” He replied, the gentle tone saved for soothing fearful relatives coming through. “Everything still looks okay. There doesn’t seem to be any lasting effects, his vitals are still normal… We just need to give him time.”

Guerin nodded, roughly wiping at a stray tear that escaped so quickly it had rolled off his chin before he could stop it. Kyle hadn’t thought it possible for him to look even more deflated but the way his gaze shifted back to Alex showed his disappointment at the answer.

They could pretend that it was good news all they wanted, taking solace in that fact that Alex wasn’t suddenly getting worse, but the longer it took for him to wake up, the harder it was to see any positives.  

“Does he know that we’re here? Can he— like, is he hearing us, without being able to—?”

And if that wasn’t the age-old coma question. 

“Honestly Guerin, I don’t know.”

Michael nodded again absentmindedly, biting his lip so hard Kyle was surprised he didn’t draw blood. There was little else he could do for now and as Guerin laced his fingers with Alex’s, bringing his hand up to kiss softly at his knuckles, he took that as his cue to leave.

Before he could fully close the door behind him, he heard Guerin whisper gently to a blissfully unaware Alex. 

“You take as long as you need. We’ll all be here when you’re ready.”

 —

 Kyle didn’t stray far.

As had often been the case during the past few days.

He had taken emergency leave at the hospital shortly after beginning their search for a cure. Every minute spent not in the lab had felt like a waste of precious time and he had found it increasingly more difficult to concentrate on the patients in front of him when his mind kept wandering to the one waiting for him in stasis.

He had yet to return to work, despite successfully pulling off the small medical miracle of conquering death and resurrecting his childhood best friend. They were in untested waters here with no real clue of the consequences to their actions and he wasn’t going to leave until he knew for certain that Alex would be okay. 

Bringing him back didn’t come with any guarantees, despite what he had been reassuring Guerin. But then, sometimes loved ones needed that little bit of hope to hold onto.

He kept himself busy in the lab – Deep Sky having an abundance of fascinating work to dive into – until it was time to check in on Alex again. 

The door opened quietly as he turned the handle, the soft click of the hinges doing little to disturb the occupants of the room, and the softly spoken words floating out from inside left him reluctant to enter. As he lingered in the doorway, he could hear Guerin talking to Alex again, gentle encouragements for him to open his eyes or squeeze his hand again. 

He could see Alex from where he stood and it was only as he noticed the tiny furrow of his brow that had been absent for so long, that he registered Guerin’s words.

Again.

Kyle felt his heart in his throat as he realised what he was watching. The scrunch of his nose, the ever so slightly pursed lips. Was Alex really, finally waking up?

He stepped further into the room, eager to be ready in case his patient needed him but found himself pausing before he got too close. His heart was racing now in anticipation but a small part of him – the part that had witnessed this exact situation so many times at the hospital over the years – begged him not to get his hopes up. 

That begged him to tell Guerin not to get his hopes up.

It had been so long since they had brought a deceased Alex back to Roswell, a small part of him had never really believed that their end goal would be achieved. That this had been the best they were ever going to get. But it seemed the universe had actually answered their prayers.

Alex’s eyes opened slowly, his unfocused gaze lazily searching the ceiling above him before drifting to the right to land on Guerin. For a moment, there was no sign of recognition, just two dark eyes staring at a stranger in front of him and then— Alex smiled. A frail, pitiful excuse for a smile, the corners of his lips turning up just a fraction. But honestly, it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Guerin was too caught up in the moment to notice Kyle’s intrusion. He was standing now, one hand still wrapped around Alex’s as he squeezed it tight, beaming grin on his face as he let the tears freely stain his skin. His other ran soothingly through Alex’s hair, and he bent forward to press wet and teary kisses against his temple, whispering grateful reassurances too low for Kyle to make out.

Alex could barely keep his eyes open as he tried to accept the sudden outpouring of love, but his smile couldn’t help but grow. His hand lifted from the bed but, lacking the strength to get far enough to reach Guerin, it came to rest weakly on his chest and Kyle wondered if maybe the physical touches weren’t the only thing he was feeling.

He watched as Alex slowly ran his thumb back and forth over the spot at the centre of his ribs — the spot where an alien handprint had been etched into his skin a few days prior – and wondered if maybe he could feel Guerin’s very soul crying out in relief. If the celestial bond that Guerin had been desperate to feel had finally snapped into place.  

He had been trying to ignite it since he resurrected Alex, questioning Liz and Max on how it worked for them— how he could use it to bring Alex back to them. But each time he tried, there had been nothing. A dark emptiness where a rush of emotions should be. He’d beaten himself up about that, convinced he had done something wrong. Convinced that he had failed Alex.

But Kyle had never believed that. 

It had been hard to see Alex so lifeless for so damn long, flashes of a future without him spurring them on and pushing them to the limit. But watching him now, him and Guerin, Kyle’s heart was almost bursting with relief.

On the darker days when it had been too much for Guerin, when the outcome they’d longed for had been but an impossible notion and he had struggled to see even the dimmest light at the end of the tunnel, Kyle had tried his best to keep the hope alive. For Guerin. For Alex. For all of them. 

But watching them now, foreheads touching and fingers intertwined, he didn’t need to cling onto that hope anymore.

The doctor in him was desperate to check on his patient but he forced himself to hold back. This precious moment was the least they deserved and it would do neither of them any good for him to break it.

So he let them hold each other for a minute longer. And as he watched on with a full heart and teary eyes, he finally let himself take a breath.

[cleolinda]

I have been trying to write (as promised) something about my idea of Liminal Christmas

I’m loopy on muscle relaxers for my back and it’s not working. The writing does not logic

Like there’s a draft but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So my ideas are:

-- You know what “the liminal” is, right? It’s not just the Backrooms and the “liminal internet aesthetic”?

-- It can refer to thresholds (Latin: līmen) of both time (the sun rising or setting; midnight on New Year’s Eve; birthdays, graduations, even death itself) and space (doorways, crossroads, intersections, international borders; the wardrobe to Narnia, the rabbit hole to Wonderland--you see a lot of these in fantasy media).

-- And not just specific threshold points but more general times (adolescence/coming of age; long journeys; periods of social instability) and spaces (hallways, lobbies, waiting rooms, airports, bus stations, parking lots, streets, abandoned buildings, ruins). Travel itself, a state of being between one place and another, is liminal. Anything temporary has a liminal quality. A parking lot is liminal in a way that a garage is not, you get me? The liminal is a place you're not staying permanently, and the time you're Not Staying in it.

-- The "internet aesthetic" version also highlights the emptiness of things that may or may not have already been liminal (office hallways, closed buildings, abandoned malls), where an additional aspect is the the explicit unease, the uncanny quality, that the emptiness creates. Emptiness is not requisite, however, and an airport is liminal whether it's full of people or not.

-- So we have both specific points of crossing and broader states of between-ness. 

-- Christmas is extremely liminal

-- The winter solstice (generally December 21 or 22, Northern Hemisphere) is by definition liminal: it is the longest/darkest night of the year, the threshold between The Days Shorten and The Days Lengthen (Midsummer is the same, in reverse).

-- There is a lot of Germanic Yule/Wild Hunt and Roman Saturnalia in the liminality of Christmas Eve that I can't wade into right now

-- (I had a whole thing about Twelfth Night antics and the Lord of Misrule being liminal that I couldn't quite work into the flow of the post)

-- I cannot speak for other winter holidays, cultural celebrations, or hemispheres

-- In fact that’s where my post draft breaks down because I have a tendency to bite off more topic than I can chew, this is all So Much and I am So Flexeril’d

-- But basically I realized last year that I really don’t like Christmas Day much as an adult. Santa does not visit me anymore; I am a Santa. I value Christmas Day as a family holiday, but I don’t look forward to it the way I did as a kid. There is nothing I am waiting on, there is no lying awake in giddy hope all night while listening to Christmas music on the radio.

-- (That particular Christmas, I think I woke up to a My Little Pony Paradise Estate circa 1986)

-- It’s Christmas Eve that I love

-- It’s the liminal, i.e., the spooky part

-- The part where everything stands still, anything is possible, the night that expands in every dark direction beyond the actual time it occupies. Any miracle, any terror, chill and sparkling between-ness.

-- Santa himself: extremely liminal. We watch NORAD track the sleigh around the world. The night is as long as it needs to be, the gift sack is as big as billions of presents require. Santa arrives through the impossible between-ness of the chimney. And he can be at a thousand malls simultaneously and, so we're told as kids, bring anything you wish for (if you're on the Nice List), whether you ask for it aloud or not. HE KNOWS 

-- Is this concept honestly kind of creepy? YES

-- And you see the limitless spooky magic of Christmas Eve over and over in media (anything where Santa renders some miracle gift on a night without the limits of time or physical distance; the Grinch becoming the Antisanta; Clara’s nutcracker coming to life at midnight; George Bailey being shown [by an angel who will cross the threshold of earning his wings] across time what could have been so he will understand his Wonderful Life)

-- (SCROOGE)

-- A Christmas Carol is like THE most liminal Christmas work; it involves three ghosts (beings between life and death) taking a man through various stages of his life in the space of one expansive night, ultimately to a threshold of total personality change (or else).

-- You will probably have a ton more examples; I'll let someone else take on The Nightmare Before Christmas and, uh, all other cultural winter traditions.

-- Like I said, my drafting broke down around the time that I realized that the proper cultural scope of this post was more suited to a graduate thesis.

-- (I am really very secular about Christmas, but it would be remiss not to point out that the story of the Nativity for which “Christmas” is named is also extremely liminal, with the traveling and the looking for a place to stay and settling on one that isn’t actually meant for humans, only a temporary shelter, and the night and the Three Magi journeying towards a star.)

-- As a kid, though, I was most struck by The Nutcracker and the story of the Christmas spider.

-- In the storybook I had, the spider wasn’t trying to whip up some precious metals for a family in poverty. It just really wanted to help decorate a Christmas tree, and all it had to offer were its webs, but the Christmas Eve Miracle was that they turned to silver tinsel.

-- Man, tinsel is so bad for pets and almost as persistent as glitter, but I sure do love some tinsel.

-- Decorating the tree IS Christmas to me, and we used to use both tinsel and real candy canes, which we don't anymore. In fact, this year, I wasn't able to help with the tree at all because of my back injury, which is how you know I was bad off. It was the source of all magic to me. I used to peer into our Christmas tree in the dark living room, looking deep between the colored lights and fresh pine, and imagine being a tiny elf jumping from branch to branch, talking to the various ornaments, wooden animals and hanging dolls and Wish Bear and Mountain Climbing Santa.

-- (One time when I was seven, the tree fell over on me [I DIDN’T TOUCH IT!!] but I lived)

-- My point is: that pleasantly spooky sense that anything could happen, any magic could be wrought, anything I hoped for might be under the tree on Christmas morning. But also, kind of scary and full of spiders. That feeling was what hooked me.

-- One year I was lying awake (in the dark, through hours that felt like years to a five-year-old) and I swore I could hear hooves on the roof.

-- Anything can happen on Christmas Eve

When I was a kid, I used to love to stare deep into the Christmas tree. I imagined an elf or maybe a very small me, idk, living in the branches, climbing up through them as if it were not a treehouse, but a house made of tree.

I have always preferred a “spooky” Christmas vibe: the dark and quiet liminal hours of Christmas Eve, or maybe just after you were supposed to be in bed in the nights leading up into. (I was really into The Nutcracker, which might explain some of this.) Just the dark and the Christmas lights and the decorated tree, and all the things that might come into being in that shadowy window of possibility.

Anyway, this is an ominous Wish Bear.

[astermacguffin]

What if the Mark of Cain manifests differently when it's imprisoning God and not the Darkness? If the Darkness makes the Mark bearer go insane with unbridled want for destruction, then what does sealing God make you do?

An obsessive desire for creation? Creation to the point of corruption? (Think of the Shimmer from the film Annihilation. Continuous reproduction to the point of begetting alien, cancer-like entities. A refracted, distorted notion of creation.)

Okay, so canon divergence from The Trap. They successfully seal away Chuck, then Castiel bears the Mark. (Jack won't be back until later episodes, so he's not here yet.)

At first, they think he's fine. Cas says he's not feeling any bloodlust just yet. (He does feel a certain itch under his skin. Not a desire to murder, but a desire to do...something. He doesn't tell this to anyone.)

His grace is getting stronger, almost archangel-like (if not more). It's incredibly helpful for hunts, and Cas is happy to feel his wings healthy again after a long time. Sam is happy for him, but Dean is suspicious of things (especially since he's a previous Mark bearer).

After a while, Cas starts feeling...burdened, almost bloated by grace. (After all, he does have access to an infinite supply of it.) He needs to have an outlet for it.

Cas tells them so and Sam suggests healing people. Dean gives the green light on the condition that he remains invisible and he doesn't go Godstiel on them again.

It's a great outlet, and for the first few weeks they start feeling normal again. But unfortunately, healing stops being enough to relieve Cas of his excess grace anymore. The mass healings start to pile up all across the globe and it catches everyone's attention. Some think it's a blessed miracle, some think it's a sign of the end times. They make him slow down on the healings after that.

Without an outlet, however, Cas starts feeling antsy and pained. They brainstorm on possible alternatives. Cas suggests going to Heaven and saving it from collapse by healing his brethren's wings and creating more angels out of consenting souls in Heaven.

He explains Heaven's endangered and dwindling numbers. Sam agrees that it would hit two birds in one stone: relieve Cas from excess grace and prevent the extinction of angels. Dean doesn't like the idea of more winged dicks so he shoots down the idea. Eileen says that since Cas is the one in pain, he should be the one to decide.

Ultimately, Cas defers to Dean's judgment (as always). Sam protests, arguing that he can't just shoulder that pain. Cas replies: "I've suffered worse, Sam."

Cas doesn't complain about the pain for about a week, so for a while, everyone believes him when he said he can shoulder the pain. One day, Dean finds him outside the bunker, groaning in pain as he bleeds himself out, his grace pouring into the ground and sprouting plants. Dean sees this and is finally convinced to allow Cas to make more angels.

What follows then is a series of escalating events:

While Sam and Eileen are practicing their witchcraft for spell they need in a hunt, Cas suggests to enhance Sam's physical and magical abilities using his grace. "It will make the process faster and safer," he reasons. He agrees, but Dean eyes this suspiciously.

During one of their hunts, they encounter a young and freshly-turned vampire. The boy begs them not to kill him, and Cas gives him a proposal. "Promise not to feed on humans ever again and I shall cure you of your hungers and your pains. Pledge your allegiance to me and you shall never be afraid of yourself ever again." The boy agrees, and before Dean could even protest, Cas slices his palm and feeds the vampire his grace.

They argue about the grace-feeding in the Impala. Dean notices Sam's pointed lack of complaints and figures it out. "You're in on this, aren't you? How long has Cas been doing this? He's going Michael behind our backs and you're letting him?"

Sam argues that it's different because Cas isn't making super monsters; he's making them less "monstrous" (whatever that means). Sam's obsession with his own "purity" is key to understanding him here.

One time, Dean catches Cas in his "garden" ("forest" seems more apt with how lush the greens already are) creating butterflies and bees out of thin air using his grace alone.

Reports of the miraculously healed people suddenly gaining new abilities like increased strength, heightened senses, and prophecy start popping up. Some are experiencing phantom limbs, talking about their sprouting "wings."

Sam is becoming addicted to Cas' grace to the point that he willingly lets himself be hurt in hunts just so Cas can cure him. Dean confronts him about this, but Sam just argues that he's "never felt this pure before." Eileenn shares the same concern as Dean.

Hunts are becoming less frequent the more monsters are being "cleansed" by Cas. The world is becoming disconcertingly quiet.

Cas' "garden" is starting to emit this strange aura. The plants and creatures growing inside it are starting to look more...alien.

One of the original angels goes to Dean and tells him of Heaven's affairs. The Host is stable again, but the angels he created are...not exactly angels. They're graced up and they sustain Heaven, but their true forms are "horrifying and incomprehensible, even to an angel." The angel adds that more than 60% of Earth's creatures have already been touched by Cas' grace.

The final nail in the coffin is when Dean catches Cas in the garden fiddling with his angel blade. It's emitting a strange glow, vibrating a subtle hum and looking as if it's liquid, flowing and distorting here and there.

Dean asks him what he's holding. "Oh, this?" Cas responds. "This is the Last Blade. Last, not in terms of time but in concept, for no other blade shall ever compare to it. The spark of creation. Fiat lux."

Dean's heart sinks. Of course. The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega. "Cas...the Mark, I think i-it's scrambling your brain, man."

"I know," he replies, eyes wet and apologetic. It's a small moment of lucidity amidst weeks and months of...whatever that was.

"Okay, okay, so you're still you, that's... that's good. Okay." Dean doesn't know how to approach this. Give him a fight and he'll know what to do, but this? Watching his best friend, the love of his life, be distorted into something incomprehensible? Yeah, this is totally beyond him.

"You know, I used to hate Chuck," Cas says. "How could the Father of All Creation be this angry, petulant child? But," he continues, "knowing what I know now, it's either regressing into a petty child or being reduced to insanity."

"Cas...what are you talking about, man?"

"No mind should bear this burden, Dean. No matter how infinite they are," he says, voice trembling in exhaustion.

(more below the cut)

He continues. "The awareness of everything is the awareness of nothing at all. Imagine perceiving every possible piece of information about the world all at once. Seeing light in all its forms all at once: ultraviolet, infrared, etc. Sensing all the neutrinos zip by, sensing gravitational waves, sensing the slighest bit of seismic activity."

Dean doesn't know how to respond, so he lets him go on.

"Knowledge can only ever be a slice of the Totality of Truth. Truth is absolute chaos, and Knowledge is the partial ordering of this chaos. One can sanely approach Truth only through organized paritions of Totality. Why do you think Chuck is so obsessed with stories? Stories are linear and finite; they're sensible snippets of the endless sea of possible worlds."

"So, what? Are you trying to—"

"I'm not trying to justify Chuck's actions, Dean," he interrupts. "I just want to contextualize them. Chuck's simplistic and repetitive narratives are what they are: manifestations of a chaotic Totality, gone insane trying to understand itself. Looking for simple things to hold on to."

Cas takes a deep breath. He speaks with a shaky voice. "I'm barely holding myself together, Dean. I can feel the universe beneath my skin."

He doesn't know what possesses him to ask, but he does it anyway. "What are you holding on to?"

Cas smiles at that. "You."

They stare at each other for a while, frozen where they stand. Cas, with unrestrained affection in his face. Dean, struck by shock and indecision. It's Cas who first breaks the silence.

"I think we both know what needs to be done, while I'm still lucid enough." Cas slices his palm and lets his blood drip down the soil. He then thrusts the Last Blade into the ground, lifting it when the soil glows.

Dean stared in awe as the ground erupts and a familiar shape rises from the hollow. "Is that.."

"The Ma'Lak box, yes. I also enhanced it with the Blade to be able to house things as powerful as me."

"Cas, wait, maybe we can think of another way to—"

"Dean," he says, calmly. "You know there's no other way. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was."

In any other scenario, Dean would've kept arguing, but even he knows that they're running out of time. Sam's grace addiction is getting worse and all the creatures touched by Cas' grace are slowly mutating into eldritch horrors. Dean offers a shaky nod. "Okay."

Tension visibly releases from Cas' body. "Thank you, Dean." He opens the box and enters it with ease. "When you lock this, bury me with the garden's graced soil. Once I'm under, my influence over the world should dampen."

Dean gives a wordless nod. For a while, they just stared at each other, Cas lying down and Dean trying to memorize every inch of his face while he can.

Cas presses his hand into Dean's left shoulder where his mark used to dwell. "My untainted grace," he whisper gently. "Some of it is still inside you. That's probably why you're not as affected by me."

Dean wants to say, I'll always be affected by you, but he holds himself back.

He takes his hand back, a bloody handprint now on Dean's jacket. "I love you, Dean," he says, breathless.

"Cas..."

"I probably would've built up to that if we had more time but," he makes a surprised laugh, "I am, as you would say, already 'losing my marbles', so."

The air quotes would've been funny and endearing in any other scenario, but it just makes Dean's vision blur up with tears.

"Thank you for everything, Dean. I know we've done nothing but repeatedly hurt each other these past few years, but I don't want to spend a deathless eternity with that as my memory of you. I forgive you, even for the things you haven't forgiven yourself for yet. And I'm sorry for everything, especially for ending things like this."

He should probably wipe away his tears to clear his vision, but Dean can do nothing but stare at Cas in awe, in fear, in grief, in reverence. They're both fully crying now.

"Goodbye, Dean."

"Wait, Cas."

Cas looks at him, waiting.

"Can you...can you say it again?"

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' means. They both know.

With one last mournful smile, Cas says: "I love you, Dean."

And with that, Dean finally gathers all the strength he needs to shut the lid and lock the box. He stares at it for a while, unblinking. He forgot to ask, Can you hear my prayers down there? But it's too late now to ask.

The box automatically lowers itself into the hole it arose from. Now all that's left to do is to cover it again with soil.

Dean doesn't bother with a shovel. He gently buries the box with his hands deep in the soil, some of it getting trapped under his nails. He continues the mindless task, whispering a tireless series of I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I hope you're okay I'm sorry, over and over between his quiet sobs. Cas is quiet inside the box. No screaming or crying. Dean doesn't know if that's better or worse.

When the final clump of soil is pressed into the mound, he suddenly feels it: a visceral shift that echoes throughout the world. The alien glimmer of the garden dims, and the world corrects its axis. Dean screams his agony into the air.

That's how Sam finds him: sprawled over a mound of soil, crying his heart out. Dean doesn't need to say anything: he knows what happened. He pulls his brother off the ground and brings him inside the bunker.

For the first two weeks, Dean cycles through drinking and passing out in various places in the bunker. If he's not wearing the jacket, he's holding it with close to him. Sam gives him a considerable space to grieve while he monitors the world grace problem with Eileen. The grace mutations have significantly dropped since then and everyone's going back to normal.

Unfortunately, that means monsters are getting hungry again. Sam doesn't want to leave his brother alone after going nonverbal with grief and dysfunctional due to alcohol. Eileen assures him that she can handle hunts on their own and that the hunter network that they're building will lessen the workload.

Sam's attempts to sober Dean up finally work, mostly due to the latter having very little strength to protest. Dean remains sober an entire day for the first time in weeks, and all he can think about is: I haven't prayed to Cas in a while. The longing might have reached him, but never a coherent prayer.

The first time he goes out of the bunker in a while, he heads straight to Cas' garden. Sam's glad that he's finally going out because "the sun is good for you" or something, but he's really only here for Cas. He kneels in front of the burial mound (where a patch of an unknown species of flowers is already growing).

The first prayer he says to him in a while is: I love you, Cas. I should've said it while you were still here. Not saying it out loud and just strongly thinking about the words somehow bolsters him to get the words through.

He's crying again, and he knows he's losing coherency. In his mind, he's explaining about his hangups and his regrets and his continuous denial of his own joy, but one constant remains: he's beaming all his love and affection into this prayer.

He's halfway through explaining all the traits that he finds endearing in Cas when suddenly, he feels it like a snap. If the glimmer dimmed when he buried Cas, now it's as if it was never there in the first place. With an unsettling amount of certainty, Dean just knows that Cas is gone. For real, this time.

"C-cas...?" It's the first thing he's said in a while and it sounds rough in his long unused voice.

"CAS! CAS!!! " He's now screaming, ripping away the flowerbed with his bare hands and scratching the soil away. Tears are obstructing his vision, but he has no time to wipe them away. He needs to make sure that is really gone. His hands are bleeding and he doesn't give a damn.

Eventually, Sam comes running towards him. "Dean! Dean, stop!"

He tries to hold his brother back, but Dean just keeps on clawing away soil. "Sammy, Sammy he's gone, he's not there anymore, Sammy I have to see, please, let me see Cas again, I need—" he breaks into sobs again, and like a puppet with its strings cut off, he slumps into Sam.

"Dean, it's okay, it's okay..." he says softly to his shaking brother.

Eventually, when Dean calms down, he looks at the carnage he's done and starts sobbing again. The flowers, his last evidence of Cas being here, are all destroyed. Now Cas truly is gone.

. . .

When Cas first heard Dean's confession prayer, he was overcome with joy. When he realized what that means, however, his stomach suddenly sinks.

He hears before he sees the Empty arrive, slithering like black goo.

"Wow, were you excited enough for eternal slumber that you wanted a preview?" The Shadow teases in Meg's voice.

At first, he was dreading the Empty, but now that he thinks of it, it's actually the perfect prison for him: a vast, endless nothingness for him to fill with his creations.

And if Jack wasn't in Heaven, that only means that he's in the Empty, and he can't wait to see his son again. Even when blinded by the madness of the universe, he can never forget the joy of being a father.

"Yes," he replies, "I'm actually glad you're here now."

. . .

Somewhere around the globe, Billie drops Jack back.

"Don't worry, kid. You'l reunite with your father very soon."

(to be continued)

[onmykneesforhotdilfs]

jealous

guess who is back, that’s right, ME. anyway, this was not a request or anything but i needed to do this in order to get back on track. there are bunch of requests sitting in my box over there but i am working on them, i promise. if not in august, then you will get them all in september. k? now that this is out of the way, i hope you enjoy and as always, if you guys wanna talk about my fics or anything really, feel free to message me, i’m always available.

“Are you absolutely sure you want to go?

Bloom sighed and winced as Stella pulled a strand of her fiery hair too hard, sharp pain from the tug settling in her temple lobe making her regret her decision to have her blonde friend help her get ready for, yet another, Eraklyon ball.

“Well it seemed like a good idea to me at the beginning��� but judging by the number of times I have been asked that question, I am starting to think it is not such a good idea after all.” Bloom responded sarcastically.

“Look Bloom,” Stella began as she took another strand of Bloom’s hair and curled it around the curling iron, “I get it. You guys broke up on friendly terms, but no one is going to blame you if you choose not to go.” Bloom frowned and she was about to open her mouth to protest, but Stella paid her no mind as she continued to curl her hair. “It’s his engagement party at the end of the day and the one that could turn rather messy considering who the bride-to-be is.”

“I know this might seem slightly unorthodox Stell, but I honestly have no hard feelings towards Sky.” Bloom shrugged one of her shoulders. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

Stella snorted and tried to cover the sound (not befitting of a royal) with a cough but Bloom saw right through it as she leveled her best friend with a flat look. “Sorry Bloom. But you’ve got to admit that the situation is slightly absurd.”

Bloom sighed, her shoulders slouching forward in a clear sign of defeat. “Well, yes, I admit that the situation might seem weird-“

“Weird?” Stella laughed. “Sweetie, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but the situation ceased to be weird when you decided to spare the bastard.” Bloom saw Stella raise one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows in the mirror but an amused smile full of mirth was present on her lips. “This right now, this is insanity at it’s finest.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “Okay now you’re exaggerating. Besides, the two of you are getting along quite well. With the way the two of you strive to get on my nerves, I’ll even say, you get along better than him and I do.”

“Okay, that’s just hurtful.” Stella pouted, her bottom lip sticking out and Bloom laughed at the puppy dog look her friend was giving her.

“I’m just kidding Stell.”

“I don’t know Bloom. I now might have to tell your boyfriend you find him annoying.” Bloom never quite considered Stella as a snitch, but the devils dancing in blonde’s eyes reminded her that she needed to thread carefully unless she wanted to be eaten alive by the devil himself and his accomplice.

“Now, don’t be twisting my words. I never said I find you or him annoying…” She stopped for a second to debate whether or not she should say the next sentence. “No matter how true that statement might be.” She mumbled at the end.

Stella burst out laughing and hugged Bloom from behind. “That’s ok Bloom, you annoy us too.” At the red head’s confused look, Stella continued. “Between your constant rushing into danger without thinking and doing the exact opposite of what you’re told, it’s a miracle neither of us has a set of gray hair from worrying too much.”

Bloom felt the heat rushing to her cheeks and she lowered her head to conceal the blush that was climbing up her neck. “I’m not that bad.”

“No, you’re not.” Bloom’s eyes met Stella’s in the mirror. “You’re even worse.”

“Thanks a lot.” Bloom mumbled but she had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh as Stella’s sharp elbow stabbed her in the back making her bend forward slightly.

“Speaking of the devil, how is Valtor?” Stella asked as she started tucking delicate curls into a bun with an elaborate pattern. “I mean, you did leave him with your parents, your real parents, after all. Aren’t you worried that there will be nothing left of him when you come back?”

Bloom grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He knows he should stay away from the throne room when I’m not there… He had to learn that the hard way though.”

“That hard way wouldn’t happen to be an angry king of Domino with a magic sword?” Stella asked through her giggles as the mental picture of an aristocratic wizard being chased across the hall by Bloom’s father popped up in her head.

“Who blabbed?” Bloom asked with genuine interest painted across her features.

Stella shrugged. “One of the maids that has a cousin working in Solaria’s palace happened to be at the right place and at the right time.” She pinned the final curl to the right place and stepped back to admire her work. “And I happened to be at the right place and at the right time to hear it being passed directly from one person to another.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky?” Bloom mumbled as she stood up from her chair and stretched her stiff muscles.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I never had the misfortune of being chased by your dad with a sword after all.”

Stella laughed as Bloom pushed her slightly, slight grimace present on her face. “Thank you for your help.” She leaned in to give Stella a hug. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss the show for anything.” Stella smiled and wiggled her eyebrows.

Bloom laughed. “You know, it is not nice to rejoice in someone else's misfortune. Dragon knows I would rather jump off the bridge than marry Diaspro.”

Stella waved her arm dismissively. “Each to it’s own. He should’ve sucked it up and come clean right away instead of preventing you from moving on and just prolonging the misery. A bit of suffering might be good for his soul.” She stopped for a second. “Though I’ll admit, marrying Diaspro might be too cruel of a punishment, even for him.”

“Well I am certainly not going to pull a Diaspro card tonight. I just hope he will live to see himself get married. After that, he is beyond my care.”

“Honey, he was beyond your care the moment you ended things, don’t pay too much attention to him.” Stella wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “Valtor might get jealous if you do.”

Bloom shook her head. “He’s not necessarily the jealous type Stell.” When Stella raised an eyebrow and her face morphed into an expression of disbelief, Bloom frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you completely blind or something?” When Bloom’s face continued to show nothing but plain confusion, Stella continued. “Are you seriously telling me that you do not see the glares he is sending to other people who look at you for two seconds too long?” Bloom shook her head negative but a stunned expression tensed her facial muscles and if Stella focused, she could probably see the cogs turning in Bloom’s brain.

“I’ve… honestly never noticed.”

Stella smirked. “I’m not sure why I’m even surprised. The two of you separately could conquer the world, but apparently when you’re together your brain cells eat each other or something because you are stupid for anything and everything besides for each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Bloom, honey, if there was a picture for ‘crazy in love’ in the dictionary, it would be a picture of the two of you.”

Bloom rolled her eyes. “I’ll have you know that we actually talk quite a lot.”

“I’m sure you do… when you’re not too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes from across the room.”

Bloom exhaled and pinched a bridge of her nose. “Okay I think that’s enough of that. Don’t injure that fashionable brain of yours by thinking too hard about me and Valtor. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave Stella another quick hug, ignoring the ‘Hey!’ she got and opened a portal to Domino. She threw a quick ‘I love you’ to Stella before stepping into the portal.

Shining rays of sun almost blinded her and she had to squint her eyes as she stepped into the throne room, making the people in it stop what they were doing to greet the princess. Bloom dismissed them all with a wave of her hand and a friendly smile as she climbed the steps to greet her parents.

“You look gorgeous honey.” Her mother said as she kept Bloom at an arm’s length to examine the hairstyle. Marion brought her hand to Bloom’s face and twirled a lock of fiery strand that framed her face.

“It’s all Stella mom. But thank you.” Bloom laughed cheerfully and tucked the lock behind her ear. “Have you seen Valtor by any chance?” She ignored a dangerous growl that sounded next to her, courtesy of her father, and continued. “We should get going soon.”

Just as Marion opened her mouth to answer, the door to the room opened and Valtor, wearing classic black pants and white shirt, strode in. Oritel jumped from his chair and Bloom saw, in her peripheral vision, how Marion gripped his forearm when Valtor came closer and started to climb the steps. He acknowledged no one as his eyes locked onto hers and Bloom got a flashback of Stella gushing about him having eyes only for her. Bloom felt the heat rushing to her head but paid it no mind as Valtor’s hands finally wrapped around her waist and he leaned down to kiss her forehead in greeting. She collapsed onto him, feeling almost boneless, her knees barely supporting her. The dragon fire connection burned pleasantly in her veins, carrying even more heat into her cheeks but Bloom was too busy basking in the euphoria that their connection provided to care. His thumb was drawing lazy patterns on her waist and Bloom had to resist the urge to giggle quite childishly. Instead she distanced herself from his embrace slightly, only now realizing they were not in private, and looked up at his face that had the beginning of a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Someone (Oritel) cleared their throat and Bloom broke eye contact with Valtor as unkind lights flashed in his eyes, his hand tightening around her waist, a clear sign of sheer annoyance on his part.

“So…” Bloom began rather awkwardly, clearing her throat as Valtor and Oritel continued to shoot each other unkind looks from across her head. “I trust the day has passed without any incidents involving swords and other sharp objects.”

“That only happened once.” Both of them spoke at the same time, a similar grimace painted at both Oritel’s and Valtor’s face.

“And once was enough, thank you very much.” Bloom said as she looked between the two men, trying to suppress her laughter.

“He started it.” Both men mumbled at once and turned an evil eye to each other.

“Very mature.” Sarcasm was dripping from every word Bloom spoke, her teeth nibbling at the bottom lip as she felt that exploding argument was about to commence and she really had no time for such shenanigans.

“If I remember correctly, your majesty,” Valtor began, sugar coating his voice but his face frozen in a sour expression, “you were the one that chased me with a sword, not the other way around.”

Bloom mumbled an ‘Oh no.’ and pinched Valtor’s side warningly. She squeezed her eyes together as dull pain began thumping against the walls of her skull. Her eyes met the worried but slightly amused eyes of her mother, and the queen shook her head clearly referring to the childish argument between the two grown men.

“Next time I’m simply going to break one of the hardwood chairs against your back then.” Oritel continued with a sheer, his frame slowly molding into one ready for an attack. The men leaned towards each other dangerously, and Bloom was afraid that sooner or later lightning will shoot from their eyes.

“There won’t be a next time. Your luck is that I chose not to defend myself, because otherwise, the outcome of that meeting would’ve been very different.”

“We can test that theory right now!”

“Bring it!”

The two were about to rush at each other, Oritel’s hand reaching for his sword and Valtor’s hand already lit with a spell, but an explosive spell rushed between their faces and forced the two to close their eyes and turn in the opposite direction. When the searing white finally retreated from their retinas and they were able to see clearly again, they turned to the women standing on the side, Marion’s hand raised as remains of the spell still sparked at her fingertips.

“Gentlemen. Please, behave.” The queen’s tone bore no traces of jest and Valtor and Oritel straightened their clothes in an effort to compose themselves, both coming to a conclusion that the continuation of a quarrel could result in serious bodily injury provided by none other than Marion.

Oritel cleared his throat and looked across Valtor’s shoulder towards the open hall. The servants were frozen in surprise, some were even huddled together as numerous whispers passed through the room. He looked towards his wife who was shaking her head in disbelief as if to say ‘Look at what you’ve done now.’ He once again cleared his throat and turned towards the people in the room. “Go back to your duties, there is nothing to see here.” The servants scattered across the room, fearing the wrath of their king, but amused chuckles still broke through some mouth.

“If you’re quite done,” the queen began, “maybe it would be for the best to go separate ways for today.”

“But Marion he-“ what was undoubtedly about to be another epic rant about whose fault it is was put on hold by a simple hand gesture. Marion crossed her lips in an universal ‘Zip it.’ motion and king’s mouth snapped shut. Seeing such scene, Valtor opened his mouth to say something but a sharp elbow to his ribs made him rethink his decision. He cleared his throat and grabbed the owner of the said elbow, a girl who was red in the face and almost had steam coming from her ears, and pulled her towards himself. Bloom struggled against his hold for a second but relaxed fairly quickly when Valtor sneaked his arm across her waist.

“I agree with mom.” She looked at Valtor and the hard look she gave him indicated that there was no room for refusal. “We should go get ready.”

As soon as the door to their room closed, Bloom snatched the shirt she was wearing over her head (weary of her hairstyle) and flopped face first onto the mattress. The dull ache in her head was turning into a full fledged migraine and she had to resist the urge to rip out all the bobby pins Stella placed into her hair. A sigh sounded somewhere next to her and a bed dipped slightly to the side due to the added weight. Bloom reached across the surface of the cool bed sheets blindly until her fingers wrapped around a gloved hand. She tugged on the hand slightly, a chuckle sounding in the room, as Valtor leaned above her to place another kiss at her forehead.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“If another person asks me that today, I am going to scream.” Was her muffled response as she rubbed her face into the pillow she found laying around on the bed. “I’ve sat in the chair for hours, Stella practically tortured me with how much she pulled and tugged on my hair. There is no way, and I cannot stress this enough, no way in hell that I will miss Sky’s engagement ball just because I’d rather stay in bed.”

“If you say so.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “But in that case, we should probably start getting ready.”

Bloom groaned and pressed her face harder into a pillow. “Five more minutes.”

Valtor huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh but moved towards the middle of the bed, one of his arms planting in between the bed and Bloom’s head replacing her pillow, while the other arm rested at the curve of her hip, his fingers drawing patterns at the soft skin. Bloom shuffled quietly on the bed as well, her head settling at the space where his neck met his collarbone, while one of her legs settled across his stomach. The hand that was mapping out the skin of her hip trailed teasingly upwards and Bloom twitched when his fingers ghosted over her ribs.

“That tickles.” She whispered against the skin of his neck, her lips brushing over the sensitive nerves with every letter.

“All the more reason for me to keep doing it.” Bloom pouted and lifted herself up on her forearms, her weight supported by her arms placed at his chest. Valtor huffed jokingly when she shifted her weight and he was rewarded for it with a slight punch to his shoulder. She ignored the fake ‘Ouch.’ from his side and moved to straddle his legs. He moved to meet her halfway when she leaned down for a kiss, the movements slow and gentle but no less passionate.

“Maybe we should just stay in.” He murmured when she broke the kiss only to descend down with short pecks to his neck. His hands took hold of her hips, fingers squeezing the tender flesh harder than necessary in a fit of passion.

“Mmmmm no. No. No, we don’t have time for that.” She groaned when his hands reached for the clasp of her bra.

“We can make it quick.” He huffed, annoyed and frustrated, when Bloom reached around to grab his hands and stop his movements. He fell back onto the bed as she moved up towards his face, his hands still held captive by her small fingers.

“No, we can’t.” She giggled and kissed his cheek quickly before swinging her legs off his lap and walking to her closet to pick up her dress.

“You always have to spoil my fun, don’t you?” He groaned and sat sup in bed, his fingers threading through his hair.

“Don’t sulk, we’ll have time to play later.” She didn’t even look at him as she continued rummaging through her stuff, but a teasing note and a promise was very much present in her voice. She let out a victorious ‘Aha!’ when she found the dress. “Besides, as my partner, I want you there.” The dress was tossed carelessly across the chair as she moved to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed. “Are you telling me you’d let me go all alone?” Her voice took on a slightly higher pitch and her lower lip wobbled slightly with every word. “You’d let someone else dance with me, put his hands on me?” She was playing a dangerous game and that was evident by the low growl that escaped from deep within his throat and by the darkening of his eyes.

She squeaked, slightly startled by the sudden movement, as his hands took a firm hold of her thighs and pulled her to him, his mouth attaching to her left hip, his sharp teeth leaving a bruised bite in the area as she wiggled in his hold, the pain from the bite sharp but not unpleasant. He soothed the tender spot by placing gentle, barely there kisses, no more than a brush of lips against the flesh. She hummed and ran her fingers through his hair, making him look up at her mischievous eyes. “You’re jealous.” It was not a question, but a statement and he groaned as he buried his face in her stomach, his arms circling her hips, hands resting on her behind. Bloom chuckled and tapped his shoulder twice before she pushed slightly on them, a clear sign he should let go, and grabbed her dress before she retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She emerged ten minutes later, silky turquoise dress sitting on her frame perfectly, loose curls placed behind her ear. Valtor, in the process of buttoning up his vest, stopped what he was doing and smiled at her. She mimicked his movements and stood right in front of him as her hands smoothed out wrinkles on his sleeves before straightening the collar of his shirt. No words were spoken as his large palms took hold of her delicate ones and brought them to his lips. The intimate moment was broken with the loud blaring of a cellphone and Bloom moved to answer it, Valtor’s hands letting go of her.

“Hello Stella.”

“Hey, where are you guys? We just landed. Are you going to be here soon?” Before Bloom even had the chance to answer either of the two questions, Stella continued. “Please say you will, because Bloom, I cannot promise I will not do anything if I see Diaspro.”

Bloom laughed, her hands rummaging through her makeup bag in search for lipstick. “We’ll be there shortly Stell, don’t worry.”

“You’re teleporting, right?”

“Mhm.” Bloom hummed absentmindedly as she continued looking for the lipstick.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon then. I love you.”

“I love you too Stell. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Stella laughed. “No promises. Ciao.”

Bloom threw her phone to the bed as she finally dug out a lipstick from a black hole that is her makeup bag. She leaned over the desk to apply it and she was about to turn around to ask Valtor if he could carry it in his pocket but gasped in surprise when two hands came up from behind and something cold was placed on her neck. Bloom bit her lip when she noticed that the cold object was a beautiful sapphire necklace, the color of the precious stone matching her eyes almost perfectly. Valtor’s hands moved from her neck, following the line of her spine, before settling on her hips. His lips ghosted over her hairline, down the line of her jaw before they settled in the junction of her neck and he placed a proper kiss there.

“You look stunning.” He whispered in her ear, his lips barely touching the shell of her ear, but the hot breath washing over her face made the goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“Thank you.” She spoke, her voice shaky, her fingers twirling the necklace resting at her sternum.

Colder breeze passed over her the very next second as he moved away from her to look at the mirror, spell words already on his lips and his appearance morphed back into perfection, not a hair out of place and no wrinkle on his clothes. He cleared his throat and turned to Bloom, who was still quite red in the face, and offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

Bloom took his hand as his other one was already busy creating a portal, she moved closer to him, one of her hands searching for a pocket in his blazer. She smiled when she found it and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “We shall, good sir.”

Valtor smirked as his free hand landed on Bloom’s left hip, his thumb tracing the bruise he left there, before the two stepped into a portal and disappeared with a flash.

[crimsonrae]

Alluring Studies

Summary: AU Practicing high level spells at Brakebills was nothing new to anyone, and neither was the trouble it led to - but for one first year student, she would have to answer for indiscretions with her favorite professor. Magic Professor!Henry. Magicians crossover sort of.

Henry Cavill XOFC

Warning: Nudity, Student-teacher relations, and mentions of fellatio.

Rating: Mature

A/N: I just finished watching the last season of The Magicians and I’m both happy and heartbroken. I had a small what if thought about Henry being a Brakebills Professor... hope you all enjoy. Non-beta’d and really just trash, but I’m posting anyway. I may delete it later or add another part. I’m debating.

Alluring Studies

It was so intoxicating.

The heady thrum in her veins felt like home and hot tea and ice cream – everything good. It felt right. Magic felt right. She couldn’t believe how long she had lived without it, had been blind to its presence. Discovering Brakebills...

Well, Brakebills discovering her had been a gift that she wouldn't trade for the world. Who wouldn’t choose magic? Who wouldn’t choose this school?  

Or its teachers, a small voice whispered distantly and a vague image of her phosphoromancy professor danced behind her eyes.  

Professor Cavill was a dreamboat and a slave master. Strict with each of his pupils in a way that a father was strict with his kids. It frustrated most of the students to be treated like children by a man that was barely a decade their senior... but she relished in his attention. She had come to live for his quiet praise with each spell she mastered and lived in fear of his hearty admonishments when missteps occurred.  

She wondered if he was as strict – as demanding in bed. A hot string of want tinged between her swelling petals, invoking her magic. She suppressed a moan as that comforting thrill spilled into her fingers, warming her soft prints as she began to cast on the library rooftop. The Physical Kid’s Cottage was too loud and rambunctious for her to concentrate enough on these spells... and partaking in the wild mesh of alcohol and incantations was too tempting for her. She was sure that something would go horribly wrong.

A small cloud coalesced before her. It's fine vapors twisting and writhing as it grew and flashed with new colors.

Plum.

Crimson.

Verdant.

Sapphire.

So pretty. So brilliant.

Thunder rumbled from the forming nebulous startling her faintly as her fingers flinched. 

That had been a mistake. 

The cloud grew exponentially, falling from her control as wind whipped around her body in a horrifying spiral. Her colorful fun, now twisting into something larger, darker, and more dangerous.

Her heart spiked as she tried to regain control. Her hands moving double-time as the first shape of a funnel spiraled below.

Fuck.

She had made a fucking tornado.

Air sapped from her lungs, in the face of her error. The rainbow whirl now bloomed further up into the sky as it’s pull became even stronger.

She made to scream, but by some miracle it stopped. The writhing smoke stilling with the wind before shrinking down into nothing but a wafting mist. She blinked, unsure what had happened to stop her dangerous blunder.

“That spell is beyond your skill. It was stupid to attempt it unsupervised.” A crisp British lilt rebuked from behind her.

She closed her eyes at the sound, feeling mildly horrified to be caught by a professor... by this professor of all people. Heat rose to her cheeks as peaked over her shoulder to see reapproving cobalts staring sternly at her as he finished his casting.

Long, strong fingers danced gracefully in the air as he wove his spell. Disappointment laid heavily between them and yet all she could think about was how she wanted those fingers to dance in her. The man was a walking sex-bomb and she longed to detonate him. The anticipation of his recriminations only made her want it more.

“You’re lucky I was walking past when I did.” Professor Cavill chastised as he waved off the last of the vapors, “Weather manipulation is difficult to begin with, adding in phosphoromancy without adequate training is simply suicide. You could have been torn apart.”

“It felt right.” She defended weakly as she turned to face him fully. It had felt right, her fingers had moved with a mind of their own, merely following the whispers of the circumstance.

Professor Cavill hummed as he eyed her with an arched brow, “Until it didn’t.”

A humiliated flush burned her blood as she snapped her gaze away, unable to disagree. It had felt right and true and beautiful until she had lost the thread. That steady thrum had turned wild...she hadn’t been prepared for that...had been scared by it.

Taking pity on her, Professor Cavill sighed and murmured quietly, “You got rather far for a first year before it went tits up. Control will come with time.”

“I had it.” She replied woefully as her gaze slid woefully back to his stunning face, “It felt so right, so good...almost -”

If it were possible his brow arched higher as an amused glint sparking his orbs at her sudden hesitance. He supplied for her, “Almost orgasmic?”

Her embarrassed flames flared, and she tried vainly to ignore the warm twitch from her core as she silently agreed. Still, she smiled wirily, “Something like that.”

“Then I suggest you simply get laid next time or rub one out.” Professor Cavill intoned dryly, “Doesn’t usually result in death.”

She stifled a gasp at his coarseness, not used to hearing the usually mild manner professor be so blunt. Her stare narrowed almost challengingly, “Was that your remedy? I’m sure your hand grew quite cramped – surprised you can do spells then.”

Far from being insulted, Professor Cavill grinned at her, “Not as cramped as some people's mouths.”

She gaped slightly, her eyes falling unbidden to his crotch. Her mouth watered with desire as the thought of tasting him suddenly seared her mind. Only his faint chuckle brought her back to her senses as his fingers pressed beneath her chin, firmly shutting her mouth before tilting her head up, “Don’t beg like a dog, my dear. Simply ask.”

Her thighs clenched under the faint command in his rich baritone. For a moment she forgot that he was a teacher, and she was a student. They were both adults and she’d be a fool to pass up a ride on this beautiful beast, to fully study her master. His thumb pressed upon the slump flesh of her lower lip, teasing the flesh down as he eyed her darkly. Promise lingered in his sapphire gems, calling to the dark desires in her heart.

A shuddering breath stole from her lungs as her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist, “Please.”

Henry smiled slowly, “Please what?”

“Fuck me.” She whispered, “Please fuck me.”

“Someone’s angling for an ‘A’.” He murmured teasingly as he flicked his gaze down her curves in sinful consideration.

He devoured her body with a single glance, and she was hit by that heady thrum again. Magic soaked the air like an opiate, enhancing her arousal as she soaked her panties.  

If she had been wearing any.  

A cold breeze caressed her skin and she glanced down to find her clothes now gone. Her gasp had him chuckling again – she hadn’t even seen him cast.

His hand trailed a fiery path down her throat to her taut breast. He hummed thoughtfully as he pinched and twisted at her pebbled nipple, enjoying the way her silky skin licked his palm. It had been some time since he had slacken his lust. 

She moaned like a wanton whore, leaning into his touch as she reached for the buttons of his shirt.

Yet, Henry denied her and twisted her tit harshly, making her cry out before he forced her to her knees. She stared up at him tearfully from the exquisite pain as he cooed, “I do not reward foolish behavior and you were foolish tonight. Suck me off and if you’re good, then I might let you feel good.”

Her nectar flowed like a river at his words, even as her stomach clenched with a bewildering mix of arousal, shame, and horror. And yet, she found her nose nuzzling the growing bulge in his trousers as she whispered, “Yes, Professor.”

She missed Henry’s dark smile at her instant submission... He had found his new toy for the semester. Now that was what he called magic.  

[sondrawr]

Where Monsters Dwell

“What kind of place is this?” “The kind of place where fairy tales live and monsters dwell.” —Smoke Bitten

Adam Hauptman is intimately acquainted with fear. It was born in a jungle in Vietnam and never quite left him. Even in his happiest moments—of which there were many, especially recently—it lurks in the fringes. Lying in wait.

When he sees Mercy broken on the burnt grass, seemingly dead, he feels that fear claw up his chest and strangle him. He blacks out for god knows how long, his worst fear playing like a feedback loop in his mind. It isn’t until Samuel, still wolf, bites him in the arm that he finally comes to.

That’s how Adam finds himself, naked and half covered in blood, cradling Mercy’s body. His pack huddles around him, worry creasing their faces. He feels the stink of his fear billowing out of him like smoke, choking everyone around him.

“She’s alive, damn it!” Gary finally manages to gasp. He is panting, voice raspy. How long had he been trying to tell him?

Adam reaches down into himself and feels for that thread-thin bond that connects him to his heart’s mate. It’s there, flickering. He grasps it in both hands, wrapping it around his wrist, anchoring himself to sanity. To her.

Mercy survives that night, like she has done so often before. But one day her luck will run out; his fear whispers the words he knows too well. She’s not like Coyote—damn the man—who resurrects like the sun every morning.

Adam hates beyond telling that her unconquerable spirit is wrapped in such an insubstantial thing as human skin and bones.

:::

Adam first met Mercy Thompson in Montana when she was about thirteen years old. He was up on business, Alpha of a New Mexico pack and newly engaged to a blonde, 22-year-old coed named Christy.

Mercy at the time, before the deaths of her foster parents robbed her of childhood, was still all scraped knees and awkward arms of adolescence. Jutting chin and slumped shoulders—defiant and bored.

There was a ghost of a bruise on her face from the accident where she wrapped Bran’s brand new sports car around a tree. He had heard of that incident within hours of it happening, as he suspected most wolves did, even across the ocean. Mercy’s antics were already famous.

She sat on a chair outside Bran’s office, the scuffed toe of her sneaker knocking into a leggy console table nearby. Looking at him sidelong, she had the air of someone waiting their turn at the principal’s office.

When the door finally opened to let him in, he asked, “What did she do this time?” He stepped around Bran to enter the office.

Bran’s mouth pressed flat in an irritated line, while Charles smirked in the corner. He was the one who answered: “Something about chocolate Easter bunnies.”

“She poisoned a group of boys at school,” Bran snapped, closing the door a little too roughly behind Adam.

“Really?” That seemed a bit extreme for the young girl, whose reputation for pranks were mostly harmless, if effective.

“She injected several chocolate Easter bunnies with ipecac,” Charles explained. “And then warned the boys not to steal them, or ‘they would pay.’ They, of course, did not listen. Apparently the boys had been in the habit of stealing the younger kids’ candy for a while.”

Adam laughed despite himself.

“She wants for discipline,” Bran said with a frown.

“Mercy has plenty of discipline,” Charles answered. “It’s the focus of it, that’s the problem. Her interests are too narrow and she has an overdeveloped sense of justice.”

“And her foster father can’t do anything?” asked Adam.

Charles smirked. “If Mercy were a wolf, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outranked him. Any good she does is out of love for Bryan and his mate, not because of fear or intimidation.”

That was, Adam realized, the principle by which Mercy lived her life. It was the driving force of all she did for her family and friends—the pack she forged for herself, not with magic ties but by fierce loyalty and reckless love.

:::

It has been months since she recovered from her devastating injuries. Injuries that Samuel said at first would be the end of her. Her survival is nothing short of a miracle and, Adam suspects, a bit of Coyote’s magic.

Now night holds new terrors for him. He lays in bed at night just listening to the steady beating of his mate’s fragile, mortal heart. Dreading the day when it would inevitably stop.

:::

Mercy was twenty-three when he next saw her in the middle of a Washington desert. Alone in the world but still causing trouble. The first order of business for his newly arrived pack was eliminating the rogue wolves who were harassing her. Saved without so much as a thank you.

Was it coincidence or conspiracy that brought her to the Tri-Cities when Bran had ordered Adam to move his pack north from New Mexico? Coincidence on her part probably, but definitely not Bran’s, whose machinations were wide reaching and infamous.

That Adam bought the property behind her trailer was pure, ornery spite on his part.

She had marched up to him on the first day of construction and stuck a finger in his chest. “Tell Bran that I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, eyes flashing. “I’ve done fine for eight years without his help—I’m done with wolves.”

“Good to know,” he answered, because he knew that response would drive her crazy, and turned back toward the construction of his pack house. He imagined her making faces at the back of his head and smiled.

:::

He kisses a line down her body, pausing at the shiny-pink of each new scar. Scars she earned in defense of his pack—in defense of him.

And he knows his love is killing her.

Oh god, would her life be better without him? Yes, the fear—the monster—inside him says. Yessss. We will kill herrrrr.

Panic like bile rises in his throat, and he gulps it down. Beneath him Mercy tenses, sensing his change of mood. He murmurs quietly, nuzzling her, lulling her back into softness underneath him. His lovely Mercy. His mate, for who he would willingly lay down his soul, let alone his body.

Whom he would kill for. Without question.

This. This will be his goodbye, then.

He presses a kiss to her inner knee, to her neck, and then presses into her, drawing a sigh from her lips. With his own he continues his careful ministrations, whispering a benediction against every mark on her skin that dares to be there because of him.

:::

His touch is a disease. His touch is a curse.

He can’t bear lying next to her and not touching her, so he doesn’t. He stays late in his office. He sleeps in the spare guest room. It’s killing him, but every day she’s alive, and it’s worth it.

It’s killing him that she wanders the house with those empty eyes, a line of concern between her brows, the hurt and confusion that clearly marks her face.

But at least she is alive. And soon, it will be over.

:::

Adam’s favorite memory of Mercy—the one he thinks of before he puts the gun to his head—is of her in the wedding dress too fancy for the church reception that his pack and daughter put together. She’s dancing with Jesse, at the heart of the people he loved most in the world, swaying to a country song blasting from the church’s ancient speaker system. And she turns to him and smiles.

He can see it as clear as if it were right in front of him. There was so much love in her face then. How different are those faces, the one from his memory and the one Mercy wears at this moment, when she finally sees him for the monster he is.

But she is not disgusted and horrified, as he feared she would be. She is furious. She throws a barrage of words against him, her unfettered anger like a battering ram.

In the years Adam had known and loved Mercy, he has become intimately acquainted with her many moods. Sneaky, playful, worried, content. They were as familiar to him as the feel of Mercy’s calloused hands in his.

Her white hot rage was something entirely new. And through clenched teeth she seethes a truth so utterly profound, that in that moment it shatters the madness that grips him. He lowers the gun in his hand.

Three simple words they had spoken to each other again and again. Whispered in passion and in play. Promised—sworn.

“You are mine.”

:::

He believes her. And for now, so does the monster.

You are mine.

You are mine.

You are mine.

He follows her home, to bed. And though he can’t make love to her like he wants, he worships her body with oil and hands and mouth.

It isn’t until she is completely sated and asleep when the monster rips through his body again. A monster that he now realizes is the ugly marriage of his own fear and self loathing, and Elizaveta’s death curse.

But instead of hurting his mate like Adam fears, the monster scrabbles out from beneath the covers and huddles in the corner of the room. It sits there watching his mate, the covers rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing.

Within a few minutes, the even breaths stutter and stop. “Adam?” she calls, voice rough with sleep.

It’s the monster that growls in response, and Adam waits. It didn’t work, he thinks. The monster is still here. Will you finally leave me like you’re supposed to?

And still he remembers her promises: You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says sounding annoyed. “Get back to bed. I’m cold.”

Oh, my Mercy.

After a moment, the monster cautiously approaches the bed, and it creaks under the sudden weight. It wraps itself around her, tucking her head under its chin. She draws up the covers over them both, and they settle to sleep.

For the first time in a long time Adam prays. Let this be enough. This love. Let me be enough to keep her safe.

If God is kind and he is lucky, maybe it will be.

Maybe the monster will love her, too.

[queerderpyturtle]

some old rambles about discord and starswirl that I dug up

I been thinkin. Bout Discord and Starswirl. And how they probably knew each other. And what their relationship could've been. And what that means for the rest of their arcs in the show.

From what we know (and what I remember) Discord came into power after Starswirl and the pillars were sent to Limbo, but Celestia and Luna started ruling Equestria sometime between those two events, because they were too young to remember or care about the other pillars, but they banished Discord.

We don't know a lot about Discord's past, but I imagine that when he first came to Equestria (at which point I assume he was fairly young by draconequus standards), he wasn't exactly given a warm welcome. Ponies were probably absolutely terrified of this horse-headed, bat-winged, lion-pawed, snake-tailed freak of nature, and there's a good chance they would've driven him out of town full force. His first taste of ponykind was rejection.

So, later, he tries again. He makes himself a pony disguise-- a handsome unicorn stallion named Atlas-- and sets off to learn more about Equestria. And it works! He's able to make friends, live amongst ponies, and study Equestria magic. He actually gets pretty good at doing through his unicorn horn, so much so that he manages to get into a prestigious magic school for gifted unicorns. "Atlas" is of course still a troublemaker, though. He pulls pranks, annoys his teachers, breaks the rules, and just generally has no respect for authority. And why should he? The entire society that Equestria is built on is corrupt beyond all belief, stuck in its ways, and downright hostile towards any creature outside of it. They didn't deserve his damn respect. Equestria itself was fairly new as well, and the ponies themselves were still getting used to each other. It was all one giant powderkeg, and Atlas was honestly excited to see what would happen when it went off. So he stuck around, if only to cause more chaos in this personal playpen country of his. If he wasn't the best student in all of his classes, his teachers probably would've strangled him after a day.

And then one day, he found himself in a class with the famous Odin Starswirl, a magically gifted unicorn with a penchant for proving others wrong and keeping a clear head while doing it. He was proper, eloquent, studious, respectable-- a perfect pony for Atlas to torment. Except it turns out that Odin is ridiculously, insufferably hard to annoy. When Atlas knocked over his books, or spilled water on his cloak, or made fun of his sloppy hornwriting, Odin simply responded with a sigh and a quick cantrip to fix whatever the stallion had ruined with his antics. This did not please Atlas at all. He spent more time hanging around Odin than he did hanging out with his more troublesome buddies, just to try and get a rise out of him. But he never could. If anything, they were becoming... friends. Atlas's biting remarks turned into light-hearted jabs and playful scoldings.

"Odin, for heaven's sake, if you don't take a break from studying to shave for once in your damn life, I'm going to have to start calling you Starswirl the Bearded!"

His destruction of property turned into casual acts of kindness.

"Yes, I brought your saddlebag. I knew you'd forget it, you scatterbrain. We're lucky you even remember to eat."

His contempt for Odin's huffy nature turned into giving the unicorn an easy out for boring social events hosted by his equally uppity parents.

"C'mon, Stars, let's get out of here. I know a place nearby that sells elderberry tea."

"You know I can't leave. This is an important party."

"Important to whom, exactly, my dear?"

"To my parents!"

"Your parents. Well, last time I checked, they weren't you."

"...Fine. Thirty minutes, and then you're bringing me back."

Before long, Odin was regularly sneaking off to join Atlas and his friends on their escapades. He found himself strangely drawn to the unicorn, in spite of-- or maybe because of his rebellious and carefree nature. He was so different from the ponies Odin was used to, so sure of himself, so headstrong. Odin would be a fool to say he wasn't slowly getting attached to the scoundrel.

Atlas noticed this, of course. He was honestly surprised! Who knew a straight-edged young scholar like Odin would be so willing to stray from the path of monotony? And that was all Atlas wanted. To cause a little chaos in Odin's life. It wasn't as if there were moments in which he looked at the unicorn and considered giving up his whole scheme to enjoy a happy life alongside his... friend? Companion? Fellow associate? Lord, what even where they? Atlas had never really had a friend that was interested in any part of him other than the chaotic part, and Discord hadn't had any friends at all. He took a leap of faith one day to ask Odin if they were, in fact, friends, and Odin responded with an aloof "Yes, I do believe so." And that was that, wasn't it? He had a friend. A real friend.

Over the next few years, Odin and Atlas became inseparable. It was a thing to see, the two of them trotting down the streets of Canterlot together. They couldn't have been more different, from the way they walked to the way they spoke, but they were as close as ponies could get. Odin gave Atlas a safe place to practice magic, study Equestrian history, and discuss the library's old scrolls and texts from ancient unicorns. Atlas gave Odin an out from his mundane life as a trophy child of the wealthy Starswirl family. When Odin started tutoring two unicorn fillies with promising skills in arcane magics, Atlas was the first of Odin's friends he introduced them to (the fillies lovingly started referring to the stallions as their honorary uncles). When Atlas accidentally used too much sticking potion in a prank and stuck one of his teachers to the side of the school for three days, Odin helped him sneak into the Starswirl mansion to hide, scolding him between laughs the whole way. They each saw more in each other than the average pony could ever see; Odin was more than a prodigy, and Atlas was more than an annoyance.

And if there were, perhaps, by some miracle, some hint of... romance beneath their friendship that neither side would admit to, well. That was their own business. If they enjoyed cuddling up on the couch to read from the same book, nopony needed to know. If they relished each "accidental" brush of hooves or tails when they walked together, nopony would be any the wiser. If Odin longed for the day when Atlas would use those strong forearms of his to pin the stallion against the nearest wall and just kiss him already, and felt more alive than he'd ever felt in his life when Atlas finally did...

Then maybe that was just fine. And for a while, it was. But there was always that itch at the back of Atlas's mind, that knowledge that their relationship was fleeting, because it was all, in truth, based on a lie. If Odin found out who Atlas really was, what Atlas really was, it would all crumble to pieces like a biscuit that had been left out in the sun. Atlas... no, Discord hated that the thought of losing Odin-- a simple pony whose life was a speck of dust in his immortal existence, who would be a pile of ashes in the ground before Discord had even had his second molt-- made him so unreasonably upset. He'd known going into this that becoming invested in the lives of the ponies in Equestria was foolish. He'd never meant for it to get this far. He'd come here to futz with the government a bit, maybe start a few riots or terrorize a few queens. He never wanted to find Odin. So why wasn't he willing to let him go?

Shit, he really was in too deep.

And yet, Atlas and Odin found themselves ever-so-slowly, but ever-so-surely falling in love.

But nothing gold can stay.

Odin had always known Atlas was a bit of an anarchist. It was one of the things he admired about the stallion-- his ability to let go of the norms that Equestria had built for itself and be his own pony. The problem was that Atlas seemed to have a problem with how Equestria treated creatures who weren't ponies. Griffons, yaks, kirin, and the like. Equestria had never been a big trading country, or a big socializing-with-other-nations country. They kept to themselves. Of course, this meant that xenophobia was rampant, and that the fear of the outside world was instilled into the hearts of almost every pony there. But why should Atlas care so much?

Odin asked him as much when the two stallions were studying together in Odin's room, and Atlas became noticeably more tense. He gave Odin a simple "I just think it's wrong," hoping to avoid the subject, but Odin pressed him for more details. Sure, Equestria was problematic, but all in all, it was a good country. Was there really anything so bad about wanting to keep it the way it was? Atlas tried to keep himself from snapping, tried to keep himself from saying something he'd regret, but hearing these things from a pony he loved hurt him deeply.

"It's not about tradition or preservation, Odin. It's about the fact that Equstria has never been willing to change. Before the unifications of the species, it was conflict between the pony species. After, it was conflict between the classes. Now, it's conflict between countries. Just because the problems are external doesn't mean they aren't there," Atlas told him.

"But it isn't exactly a pressing matter. It hardly effects us at all. I guess I just don't understand," Odin replied.

"Of course you don't."

It was said so quietly that Odin couldn't quite tell if he'd been meant to hear it, yet with such venom that he couldn't ignore it. He chanced a confused look and a "What?"

Atlas stood. "Of course you don't," he repeated. "You're the perfect example of a high-class, magically advanced, want-for-nothing unicorn pony. You're perfectly content to live in your little bubble of mediocrity, never trying to do anything to change the world around you. You think there's nothing you can do to help others, so you don't even try. You think they'll sort themselves out. You're complacent, Odin. You've always been."

"Complacent! And just what is wrong with that? I'm doing my best in my own life and I have no responsibility to try and fix the lives of others! Is it so wrong to focus on myself?"

"Of course not! But you can't just pretend that you're the only one with problems! I see it every day, Odin. You act like you're on top of the world, like you're above feeling sorry for others. You don't even care about them. About me!"

Odin looked hurt. "Atlas, I-- of course I care about you! You mean everything to me!"

"And just how much would it take to change that? Telling you my real name isn't Atlas? Telling you I'm not from Equestria? Telling you I look like this?!"

In a flash, Atlas removed all the disguise spells he had on himself, leaving him-- Discord-- in his true form. A long, sleek body covered in brown fur. The misshapen head of a goat, framed by a shaggy black mane and two short horns. Wings, legs, and a tail that had all been taken from different animals, stuck together like a gruesome collage. Odin's eyes trailed up the creature's body slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what he was seeing. He began to back up.

Discord could feel each step he took like knives driving into his heart. Odin was afraid.

The draconequus scoffed. "You're all the same."

"A-Atlas, I..."

"Discord. My name is Discord. I am a draconequus from the tribe of the western Badlands, sent to Equestria to study its magic. When I first came here, I was avoided like the plague. Ponies wanted nothing to do with me. They saw what they were told to see in me-- a monster. A hideous, murderous, blood-thirsty monster. They threw me out because I was different."

Odin was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. "I think I n-need some time to... to process all of this. Alone."

Discord couldn't have stopped the pain he felt from showing on his face if he'd somehow managed to summon all the magic on the planet. He gritted his teeth, blinked back tears, and disappeared in a shower of sparks.

It was the last conversation he would have with Odin for a millennium.

That night, Odin lay in bed, his mind racing, working overtime to try and figure out what in Tartarus had just happened. Firstly, he and Atlas had just had their first real lovers' spat. Except that those typically didn't lead to one of the ponies involved revealing that he was a creature from a faraway land, but whatever. Secondly, "Atlas" was a draconequus named Discord. That would take some getting used to, of course, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Thirdly, Atlas-- who was actually Discord-- had stormed out in a huff without saying goodbye. Well, that's just how things were sometimes. Nothing to lose sleep over.

When he awoke the next morning, the first though this mind supplied him with was, "Oh sweet merciful heavens I've ruined everything." He rushed to school early, hoping to find his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? Shit, I love him and I just cast him out like an old dish towel), but the stallion was nowhere in sight. Odin asked around, tried everything to get into contact with Atlas/Discord, but nothing came up. He had disappeared off the face of the planet.

Instead of dealing with all the emotional turmoil that came with that situation, Odin threw himself into his studies. His magic grew stronger and stronger, fueled by rage and pain and sadness. He pushed Celestia and Luna to become powerful sorcerers like himself, pouring every hour that he didn't spend practicing magic himself into teaching them. He tried to forget about Discord entirely, and move on. He didn't need some handsome bad-boy keeping him sane to be successful. He only needed himself. That was all he would ever need. Odin was gone. There was only the great and honorable Starswirl the Bearded.

When the sirens invaded Equestria, he agreed to help defeat them. When Stygian came to him looking for friendship that Starswirl hadn't even offered to the other "pillars," he turned him away coldly. When he realized the only way to defeat the Pony of Shadows was by sending the seven of them into limbo, he refused, at least at first. But the citizens of Equestria persisted. He was the great Starswirl, he had a duty to protect them and keep Equestria safe. He tried to tell them that the consequences of the spell were too drastic, but they would not listen. Starswirl had no choice but to go through with it.

Discord, meanwhile, had been staying on the outskirts of Equestria, brooding and cursing Odin's name. When he found out that Odin had vanished, however, and the circumstances of his disappearance... well, he wasn't happy. Despite everything, he still loved the idiot, and he had never wanted something so terrible to happen to him. Odin would have never agreed to something like that without being pushed by the Equestrian citizens. What right did they have to decide who lived and who died? Why did they get to sacrifice their most beloved sorcerer for their own safety when there were other options? Was this the price they paid for harmony?

That wouldn't do. That simply wouldn't do at all. If these pitiful excuses for equines thought the pony of shadows was a threat to their delicate balance, he would show them true chaos. He dethroned the country's leader, took over, and made the ponies of Equestria suffer like he did.

And then Celestia and Luna came along. When had they gotten so big? So powerful? How had they grown wings? Were they seriously going to try and take him down? Lulu and Celly, the sweet little fillies who had once made him flower crowns and taught him songs and invited him to tea parties. They were going to try and make him surrender. How adorable. He wasn't going to fight them, of course-- he still held a great affection for them, no matter how long he'd been gone. He would let them do their little song and dance, and them send them on their way.

Of course it was hard for the sisters, too. They had looked up to Discord back in the day, he and Starswirl both. Now they were using the magic that Starswirl had taught them to defeat someone he had once loved. Someone he probably still loved. But freedom is never free, and the sisters were resigned to their fate. They harnessed the power of the elements of harmony, turned Discord to stone, and hoped silently that someday, somehow, he would return to them, and he and Starswirl would find each other again.

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND Chapter 14

Ya'll, when I say, that the writer's block for this story practically parked it's 18 wheeler sized ass in front of me, like a boulder on a mountain road AND THERE WAS NO WAY AROUND IT, to the point that I didn't know if I ever would get to write it again and I had to take a break for...way too fucking long. Also- for the record, all of this still happens in my head in 2018, you know, when I started writing this story, because BY GOD, all these characters should have had their weddings and a small piece of happily ever after BEFORE COVID comes to fuck everyone over. But Hazel's dress, that's still 2022 Pnina Tornay, it's a fantasy story, I'm fudging the timeline, a little. Also Hazel's engagement ring? Chocolate diamond. She's a foodie. It made sense.

Also, Yes, I do realize that I am face casting Alex Pettyfer twice. The first was as modern Ravus Nox Flueret, and then...as Dash Parr in my modern Incredibles AU Why So Jaded. Look, I just adore the guy ok? He's...incredibly good looking and talented, and HOT. They don't happen in the same alternate universe, it's fine, it's fine.

Anyway, so back to the road block, sorry, detour, anyway, so then, tragedy struck in my personal life, ok several tragedies kind of piled up all at once it felt like and shook me to my core, and suddenly those earthquakes, knocked that boulder off the road and opened up the creative roadway to this story again, then I wrote something truly horrific for this particular story. AND IT'S AWESOME, like it's brutal, will reach inside and grab your heart, put it into a blender before handing it back to you as you cry and say thank you, kind of awesome, so angsty.

But, I couldn't just...post it and not keep wrapping up other character's story lines because this was still "everyone needs to find their happily ever after" foundations laid. So. What that did, was give me a "if you want this- angsty thing to happen, how do you get the story from here to there, now that you don't have this fucking boulder in the way." and my brain finally went "I got it! TREDD IS AN ASSHOLE" and boom, problem solved. See I had- most of the components to this particular chapter, already written and mentally mapped out and planned out but the "go juice" to write it was empty.

But Tredd, lovable, asshole Tredd, gave me what I needed. I don't even know if I should tag who I used to tag...however long ago I used to post chapters to this story or if they have all changed their usernames and stuff or if any of them are still interested. But you know what? I'm gonna post it anyway. So enjoy.

Also, @the-immortal-marshal, thanks for sticking with me and hanging in there, THE PAIN IS COMMING NEXT CHAP. ENJOY the last moment of "peace and happiness where everything is perfect and nothing hurts" while it lasts.

Magic and Miracles and BEYOND

Chapter 14

“Hello Behbehs!” Selena cooed when she came home from school to her dogs and Duchess who eagerly greeted her before she got all the packages from the little stylish boxes she built out of pallets to create a little place for packages to be stored on her front porch before she and Ravus could get home and get them in their apartment.

“Ah thank goodness.” Selena breathed in relief when a couple of them were those pre prepared meal kits. Because with both her and Ravus being in school and both of them working too, they rarely had a chance to go grocery shopping anymore and the meal kits were a healthy alternative to fast food and surprisingly less expensive than take out and right now they were still in their “try everything once to find our favorites” stage. But Selena barely had them all unpacked and put away by the time her phone chimed.

‘Hope you had a good day today Darling’ Ravus texted when his phone chimed that she had made it home.

‘It’s been fine, busy, how about yours?’ Selena texted back.

‘Not great, I’ll be happy to call it a day soon.’ Ravus texted back as Selena frowned at her phone before she got an idea and raced up the stairs to get dressed in more business formal attire that was clearly flirtatious that covered up some ridiculously sexy lingerie and some really good ‘fuck me’ heels and put on some makeup and put her hair up in a quick bun then quickly left their apartment to go to Miracles Hospital where she parked next to Ravus’ car and purposefully strutted into the offices, using the badge keycard Sylva had made for her to get in before she made a B-Line for Ravus’ temperoary office while his was under construction before she checked in with Kathryn to make sure he was alone in his office before she opened his office door and struck a pose in his door frame with a smoldering look and a mischevious smirk on her lips that had Ravus’ jaw dropping to the floor at the vision she was.

“Hey. What are you doing here? Is there a problem with…?” Ravus began to ask as she closed the door, locked it then sauntered up to him and straddled his lap before she kissed him passionately as he eagerly held her and pulled her to himself as he kissed her back with equal passion that had Ravus thanking God that he put such an amazing, wonderful and sexy as hell woman in his life that could give him the one thing he wanted that he knew money could never buy- her love, priceless and perfect as it was. And with her love came devotion, loyalty, honesty, faithfulness and right now- desire and it was his life’s goal to make himself as desirable to her as he could possibly be because being the object of her affection was all he could ever want and he wanted her to feel as lucky that she had him for a partner- that he felt about her.

“How’s your day now?” Selena purred when they broke for air.

“Ah-amazing, I can’t, can’t complain.” Ravus answered truthfully, his mind desperate in it’s grasping for coherent thought as he was completely blown away and delighted by her little surprise visit as his hands traveled down her body, appreciating every nuance and curve she had.

“Good, now do you want to fuck me here or in the sleep studies wing, in the car or at home?” Selena asked and watched as he swallowed thickly as his own eyes grew a dark stormy gray with lust.

“Is there an ‘all of them’ option?” Ravus returned which made Selena smile brighter as he quickly hiked up her skirt the rest of the way to reveal that she had not been wearing underwear but was wearing thigh highs attached to a matching green silk garter belt ,which were his favorite kind of stockings as his cock tried to break through his pants trying to get into her as he gasped and ‘oohed’ in surprise and delight as she made quick work of his pants and underwear before she managed to seat herself onto him as he let his chair lean back and rest on a filing cabinet so they wouldn’t crash backwards and also so that Selena could ride him as hard as she wanted to without hurting anything as she opened up his silk dress shirt so that his chest and neck were bared to her before he yanked down her shirt and undid her bra so that her breasts, which had been pushed up to show her amazing cleavage before- were now bared to him in turn as he suckled as his hands went to her hips to guide her over him and when his other hand reached down to stroke her clit with practiced ease as he whispered some absolutely filthy things to her in French which he had discovered could get Selena all riled up and to hear and see and feel that was like a drug to him.

Selena could feel her orgasm approaching as her body and mind were in absolute bliss and to hear Ravus whisper, moan and growl in her ear in between kissing and licking and playfully biting every inch of skin he could reach as he drove up into her as hard as he could and rub her clit just right. Not too hard, not too fast, but as if he was delicately conjuring her soul through her pussy was the greatest pleasure she had ever known and she didn’t care what he was saying to her in French, but the way he said it, the way it rolled off of his very gifted tongue and the way he could enrapture her mind, body and soul so easily, as easy as he breathed and leave her so desperate for him, desperate for more. Just one more touch, one more kiss, one more thrust, one more profession of love, of promise, of adoration, everything. How she was his everything and how he was going to love her and cherish her for as long as he lived and she had the utmost faith in every word. And she knew that she was going to love him for the rest of hers. She didn’t care if he lost his fortune or the hospital or anything. She would keep him and he would keep her. And that would be all that mattered.

In rapid succession Selena came, her shuddering cry of bliss was the most perfect sound in Ravus’ ears as he smiled victoriously that he was able to give her the greatest pleasure possible before Ravus’ own face scrunched up as he came himself, a grunting, hissing moan. His cock throbbing but since his injections, there were no loads, other than an extra load of precum before they both collapsed in the chair as they held each other as Selena let her head rest on his shoulder as they recovered.

Selena traced random designs on his skin around his chest hair that was starting to fill in nicely along with more muscle mass that had started to build just in the last few months since he graduated highschool and gotten back from the most epic summer vacation. It was as if he was a late bloomer. All the bulky muscle he had always wanted was finally filling in the way he wanted it to and he was having to buy new suits and shirts because his old ones no longer fit him the way he wanted them to, but thankfully that glorious cock of his stayed the same, much to Selena’s utter and complete delight.

The only thing that hadn’t grown was thankfully his feet so that meant the man didn’t need to buy new shoes. Which was his own guilty pleasure and obsession, especially dress shoes. While they had gone cross country all summer, he and Luche would hit up all the thrift stores and speciality shops looking for old shoes to restore and when they had been in L.A. They had hit the mother load. All these places that had all the shoes from the old stars of hollywood, whether they became famous or infamous or never even made it on the map. But their very expensive and very good quality shoes were left behind. One shop in particular was run by a couple of older gentlemen that were so happy to see some younger guys were into this kind of thing that they gave them the deals of a lifetime and even Tredd and of course Ignis came along and between Ravus and Ignis, Luche and Tredd got quite the crash course education on shoes, in particular old dress shoes as the four of them practically bought the store out and had to ship out most of them back home because they wouldn't fit with their former travel plans. Ravus and Ignis were the way about shoes the same way some women were about fashion and purses.

Of course that wasn't the only "obsession" Ravus and Ignis had shared with Luche and Tredd, Ravus' mother and of course his grandparents were avid fountain pen collectors and when Sylva's parents had passed, they went over her parent's very, very extensive fountain pen collection that was in the thousands of pens large, Ravus insisted that about two dozen of them go directly to Selena so she could "impress" her more "financially affluent" clients she was starting to get as Sylva happily let those precious few go to Selena, then the rest were picked through by Sylva, Lunafreya who was also an avid fountain pen enthusiast as well as Ravus and Ignis who then coached Luche and Tredd of all people who showed an interest in what he called "rich people shit", just like jewels, yahts, jets, shoes and the like, which amused Sylva who humored him enough to go through what made a good fountain pen and what made different pens valuable and what the more "famous" or well known "name brands" were and what inks were best for which pens and corralating inks to the pens themselves as Luna did the same thing with Selena so that Ravus could coach Luche through the same thing too as the rest were divided evenly and "put away" so that they could become an "inheritance" for the next generation.

Meanwhile Ravus wasn’t the only one who had gone through some changes over the course of the summer and now fall, Selena too seemed to fill in quite nicely, she had gained some weight over the summer, her hips had filled out and her derriere had plumped out and her breasts had grown, filled in and rounded out and while she had gone up a few dress sizes, Ravus couldn’t be happier about the developments. Like she had transformed from lithe teen to full blown woman and he was all too happy to replace every piece of clothing in her wardrobe so that she was comfortable and could embrace her current body.

And with Selena landing what in her opinion was the dream job at Fosters as a junior designer and was currently designing all her friend’s houses as Oak Creek Estates under the supervision of a woman named Samantha Leeds, who had taken Selena under her wing and was showing her the ropes and helping get all the classes at the local college. Selena had had the hardest time understanding CAD but when she finally figured it out. She quickly excelled.

“So what’s going on?” Selena asked after they seemed to recover but were in no need to change their positions or state of partial undress.

“Something stupid in office politics.” Ravus huffed.

“Ok…” Selena urged.

“Some of the board members are getting greedy, in particular Mr. Greed, they look at how much Project Recovery is making them and they’re seeing dollar signs at the other pharma we produce.” Ravus revealed.

“But I thought your mom had a pretty good stance that when it came to life saving drugs like insulin and other medications like it- that you put a cap on all those so they’re affordable to everyone.” Selena frowned.

“She did, but the other board members see Luche and I coming onto the board and think they can get to us and pit us against mother or pit us against each other- thinking their greed is going to be contagious or something or that we’re too young to know what we’re talking about and too inexperienced to have valid opinions.” Ravus grumped before he kissed her forehead sweetly, grateful he could bare his heart and soul like this to her so freely.

“Well that’s not going to work right?” Selena said as she raised her head to fix him with a look.

"No, it's just frustrating to deal with until they retire, although I can’t imagine dealing with Roman or Ainsley is going to get any better, all I hear is ‘chip off the old block’ when Rob talks about them." Ravus shook his head.

"Is there any way we can get Mr. Greed to retire early? Get some peace before Roman and Ainsley come on board or is it not just Mr. Greed that’s giving you all the headaches?" Selena hoped.

"I wish it was just him. But it’s not. It just...comes with the territory. Besides if there was a way to make Mr. Greed and the others to retire early, I'm pretty sure my mother would have done it already. They've been thorns in her sides most of her life and they’re proving to be thorns in ours as well." Ravus mused as Selena frowned deeper.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not your problem to fix, but thank you for listening.” Ravus thanked her gratefully as he held her comfortably in his arms. “And thank you for this, this was the best surprise.” He smiled appreciatively as he nuzzled her face with his.

“You’re welcome.” Selena smiled happily.

“Hey you wanna go out to dinner?” Ravus asked hopefully. “We could see if Lu and Ada wanted to join us?” He asked.

“Sure,” Selena nodded as she and Ravus worked on getting straightened up as Selena pulled her dress down a bit more so it was a bit more modest and pinned the top up to a much more modest height and by the time they got squared away and unlocked the door they saw Ada coming out of Luche’s office dressed similarly to Selena and Luche himself had the same love drunk smile Ravus was wearing.

“Hey,” Selena greeted as both Selena and Ada blushed before they looked pointedly at each other’s shoes then back up to each other before they both tried to stifle their giggles because they both knew exactly why the other was wearing those heels as they beamed knowingly at each other.

“Dinner?” Ravus asked as he self consciously smoothed his hair as Luche did the same as Luche gave Ada a questioning look and smiled when she eagerly nodded her head.

“Oh yeah.” Luche agreed before they all hopped into Ravus’ new Land Rover and drove to the restaurant that piqued their interest and hunger.

“So how’s the wedding planning going?” Ravus asked Luche while they looked at the menus.

“Good, still deciding on invitations, although we've narrowed it down to three different choices.” Luche answered.

“We did agree to use the same venue Sylva used when she got married.” Ada revealed.

“Yeah, that’s the same venue we decided on too.” Selena smiled happily.

“Do you have any ideas what dress you’d want?” Selena asked.

“Actually yeah.” Ada nodded as she scooted closer to Selena in the booth to show her the dresses she had found on Pintrist.

“Oooh, I like that one.” Selena agreed.

“It’s just going to be a challenge to find one that doesn’t drown me out. Because I’m so short and petite, but I don’t want to walk down the aisle in like 7 inch heels just to not trip over the dress.” Ada confessed as Ravus nearly lost it Luche’s grin as he had that ‘I wouldn’t mind’ kind of expression.

“Are you excited to go back to Kleinfelds?” Selena asked.

“Very much so, I’m already packed.” Ada confessed.

That weekend, the whole crew went back to Klinefelds for Ada to do her dress shopping. As Sylva made sure that Ada’s parents and Luche’s parents were in the middle couch while the boys made sure to keep Luche preoccupied while all the girls happily rallied around Ada as they all had their own ideas of what Ada should wear while Morgan got Sylva’s picks and other dresses into the room.

“Ok, this is Crowe’s pick.” Morgan said as she brought Ada out in the first dress.

“Aww,” they all awwed.

“You’re drowning in it though Love.” Ada’s mother noted as others kind of grimaced and nodded in agreement.

“So what do you love about this dress?”

“I love the bling, I love the tiered layers, it’s just a little too poofy.” Ada offered Morgan.

“Ok, so let’s try again, we’ll be right back.” Morgan offered the crew.

“Ok, so this is a mermaid, fit and flare,” Morgan announced as she brought Ada back out.

“It looks amazing, I just can’t really move because it’s so restrictive.” Ada realized as the rest of her family put in their 2 cents about it before she was back and tried even more, trying on her mom’s picks, Linda’s picks then finally getting to Sylva’s picks but Sylva made sure that Morgan didn’t tell Ada that they were her pick’s and instead urged Morgan to introduce them as her picks before sneaking one into Morgan’s hands that was brand new that had not been there when they had been there last.

Ada softly gasped when she saw it, it was perfect, it had the tiered layers but it also had lace and glitter and just a little bit of everything. It was perfect and when she put it on, she couldn’t help but cry. It was a soft, blushed ivory. It complemented her red hair and her skin tone gorgeously. She felt like a proper bride in this and she could see in her mind- so clearly- how Luche would probably cry tears of happiness if he saw her in this. This was it, this was the one.

“There’s that smile.” Morgan grinned victoriously as she looked at Ada in the mirror after she cinched the corset back closed and got it looking like Ada was born into this dress.

“This is it, even if all of them hate it, this is it.” Ada insisted.

“Well then let’s show them.” Morgan insisted.

Everyone could tell that Ada’s smile practically came from her toes, she was practically glowing with happiness as Sylva got choked up which caused Linda and Ada’s mom Amelia to start crying as all the girls started gasping and cooing before Morgan happily snagged an appropriate veil and put it on her and that’s when they were all practically sobbing.

“It’s perfect Love, absolutely perfect. It has those tiers that you love and the lace is so romantic.” Amelia cried as she squeezed her husband- Richard’s hand who was also getting choked up as they passed a box of tissues down the line.

“You look stunning Ada, really, just perfectly beautiful.” Linda praised as she had already made her peace with Ada being a daughter in law.

“And it still has enough sparkle and glitter to it, that even in low light, you’ll glitter like the jewel you are.” Sylva added.

“So, are you saying yes to the dress?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, I’m saying yes to this dress.” Ada confirmed happily before Amelia got up off the couch and hugged her daughter tightly before her dad hugged her tightly too along with her brother who had also been flown in for the event with his fiance.

A week later, Hazel and Sylva returned to Klinefelds as Sylva had flown out Hazel’s sister Mei and her mother Huan and her dad Tommy along with Titus' mother Helen and Titus’ sister Jenny in for the appointment. Helen and the rest of her family had been all too happy to welcome Hazel into the fold. Once Titus was thirty and then almost 40, Helen gave up on the idea that Titus would ever get married and settle down, especially when the rest of her children were giving her grandchildren at this point but it seemed she was too hasty when Titus finally met Hazel and seemed to get with the program and settle down “properly”.

Meanwhile Huan and Tommy were also over the moon that Hazel was finally settling down and even though Billy wasn’t wild about the age difference at first, the more he and Titus got to know each other, the better they got along, Tommy was happy that Titus made Hazel happy in addition to Titus’ character and stability and profession and Huan was so happy to learn that Titus was a good man, who had a house and was planning on building another with Hazel and when Titus and Hazel adopted Brutus who was Kona, Kahlua and Sasha’s sibling, while Tredd and Stella adopted Brutus’ brother King. To Huan- a grand-dog was close enough to a grandchild, for now. While she was always proud of Hazel for earning her own way though the world and earning enough to take care of them in their retirement, she had been on Hazel since she was in her twenties to have someone take care of her. And it seems Titus had finally come along and to do just that.

“So what are you looking for?” Meredith asked Hazel after everyone had been introduced.

“I’m looking for a very simple, not too many embellishments, comfortable, light weight wedding dress. Titus and I are getting married at the beach next May, right after school lets out, because he is highschool football coach. It’s going to be a very small, intimate wedding with just family and really close friends.” Hazel answered.

“Aww, that’s awesome, is there a price point we’re comfortable with?”

“Ten thousand.” Hazel answered.

“Ooh, more than enough to work with, well let’s go.” Meredith urged as she brought Hazel back into a dressing room to get changed before she went hunting for the perfect dress.

“Simple, light, comfortable.” Meredith echoed over and over again as she combed through the back room, her almost encyclopedic knowledge of the backroom to her aid as she went through all the dresses before she found several that would fit those criteria.

Charlotte came into the bridal shop, a giddy grin on her face as she came and “snuck up” on her family as Sylva turned her head and smiled at the newcomer.

“Surprise!” Charlotte announced to her family.

“Charlie?!” Tommy smiled happily as he got up and gathered up his daughter into his large arms. She may have been a wanted criminal and fugitive, but he was always happy to see her and to him, she would always be his "little Charlie".

“I thought you were overseas?” Tommy asked.

“And miss this? Nah, it’s Hazel’s first big day before the big big day, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Charlotte happily murmured into her dad’s chest before Tommy put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and introduced her to Titus’ family who were completely oblivious as to Charlotte’s true identity as Charlotte sat next to Sylva.

“It’s nice to see you again. Different kind of exciting this time,” Sylva offered with a mischievous grin that Charlotte mirrored.

“I take it you didn’t get any kind of trouble from the last time we were in each other’s company.” Charlotte offered.

“Nope, not a peep, thank you.” Sylva reassured her.

“You’re welcome, this was wonderful, thanks for letting me know, when you get to know their wedding arrangements, forward them to this number, I doubt the groom would be comfortable with Gil and I coming but I want to send them a proper wedding gift that won't be on any kind of gift registry, at least domestically.” Charlotte nodded as she handed Sylva a slip of paper written in Mandarin as Sylva read it quickly, nodded and put it into her billfold just as Hazel came out in her first dress and stopped when she saw Charlotte.

“Charlie?” Hazel gasped in excitement as she saw her sister.

“Hey you, don’t you look beautiful.” Charlie greeted as she set her large, heavy purse on the seat and came over and embraced her sister.

“I didn’t think I would see you again.” Hazel admitted as she hugged her sister tight.

“Sylva invited me, hope you don’t mind.” Charlotte explained.

“Nope, not at all.” Hazel readily assured her sister.

“Is Gil here too?” Hazel asked.

“He’s doing business, as usual, plus I don’t think Dad would be cool and I know your fiance wouldn't be cool if Gil and I showed up to the wedding itself, so this is the best I can do and this is exposed enough without making things difficult or uncomfortable or "unsafe".” Charlotte excused.

“I get it, I'm still really happy to see you and that you're here. It means a lot, especially to Mom and Dad, and of course me as well.” Hazel nodded as Charlotte nodded in unison.

“So is this your dress?” Charlotte asked, changing the subject.

“This is just the first one, you came just in time.” Hazel answered.

“Well then let’s get to it.” Charlotte insisted as she returned to her seat.

“So this is dress number one. What do we think?” Meredith asked.

“It’s nice, I’m not in love with it, but it’s nice.” Hazel answered honestly.

“It makes you look like you’re wearing a tent.” Huan criticized as Helen and Jenny nearly choked on their spit and looked at Huan in alarm as Charlotte akept her snickering quiet enough to pass it off as a cough as Mei just rolled her eyes and complained to her mom in Mandarin that she was being too harsh.

“You don’t look like you’re wearing a tent, but the cut isn’t quite right. You need a more flattering shape to the fabric.” Charlotte offered.

“Agreed.” Sylva nodded.

“Well, that’s what first dresses are all about, finding what elements can work and what elements won’t.” Meredith explained before they tried on a few different picks as Charlotte looked around as did Sylva at the other dresses on display at the other dresses in the store.

“That one,” Charlotte and Sylva said at the same time once they both locked eyes on it and pointed to it.

“Well go get it then, bring it to her, it will mean more to her if you do.” Sylva encouraged before Charlotte got up and strutted across the floor to get the dress in question before she asked to see which room her sister was in before she came to the appropriate dressing room, a security guard shadowing her.

“Try this one.” Charlotte suggested as she handed the dress over to her sister as Hazel gasped softly when she saw it before Charlotte saw her way out and went back to the group and waived the security guard back a little farther so his presence was not felt by everyone else.

“And?” Sylva prodded.

“She had the gasp and the smile.” Charlotte answered as she checked her phone.

“Please let this be the one, I’m running out of time.” Charlotte whispered as she looked at the time on her phone and read the messages her henchmen were sending her as they stood guard a short distance away as her driver himself was scanning the police channels as Gil’s other men were monitoring the area.

Hazel came out a short time later, wearing a smile that shamed the sun, moon and stars as everyone else gasped and oohed and awed.

“Now that’s the dress, you look exquisite Hazel.” Huan finally complimented as Charlotte and Sylva gave each other a meaningful smile as Hazel nearly burst into tears as Jenny and Helen were already crying too.

“It’s perfect, but still incomplete.” Hazel began as she stood up and pulled a special box from her bag and took out a set of jade jewelry and put it on Hazel as Huan and Mei cooed and practically giggled as they put it on her as Charlotte gave Hazel a special sachet as well before Charlotte’s phone chimed.

“Do you have to go?” Hazel asked as Charlotte’s eyes watered as she tried to put on a brave, happy smile but nodded yes.

“Thank you for coming and for all of this. Thank you for being my sister. I love you so much.” Hazel thanked her as the two hugged before Charlotte got to hug every member of her family as Sylva got to get a quick picture of them all together, both with Charlotte’s phone as well as other members of her family so that each one would have a picture of this moment to treasure forever before the Henchmen came over and cleared their throats to get Charlotte’s attention as Charlotte hugged her parents, specifically her dad one last time.

“I have to go, I love you.” Charlotte bid her family before she used her handkerchief to dry her eyes and left with the henchmen as her driver was already anxiously out front, waiting to take his Empress back to a safer, less ‘exposed’ space.

“How come she couldn’t stay?” Helen asked.

“She’s a very busy woman. She lives half a world away and she probably had to fly back pretty soon, and security at the airports is a nightmare.” Sylva delicately excused as she waived it off.

“But now that we found the dress and the veil and obviously the jewelry. Let’s get settled up and get dinner shall we?” Sylva encouraged with a bright happy smile.

When Sylva came back home from flying and taking care of all the other guests, she came home to see all of her kids and their fiances and their friends as they had made a really nice dinner for everyone as Pelna and Yasmine, Gladio and Pashmina, Prompto and Cindy, Luche and Ada, Libertus and Crowe and Craig and Iris were on their way as well as Luche’s family and Ada’s family.

“Hey! So how did it go?” Luna asked as she gave her mom a big hug.

“Good, Charlotte came and surprised Hazel and the family.” Sylva revealed which caused everyone to freeze and look at each other worriedly.

“Charlotte Stevens?” Luna asked, taken aback by the news.

“Oh don’t look so surprised, when Charlotte and Gil used the jet they left a single phone number for the pilot to give to me and said I get to use it once. And I knew Charlotte wouldn’t want to miss the milestone in Hazel’s life because Charlotte knows she probably won't be welcome at the wedding since Cor is one of Titus' groomsmen, so I used it and told Charlotte the plan and she was very grateful for the invitation since no one else in her family knew how to get a hold of her to tell her. Besides, Titus’ family was blissfully ignorant of who she really was and Hazel’s family got to have a nice little reunion within the realitive safety confine of a public space and Charlotte got to see Hazel in her wedding dress as a good sister should. It was fine, I mean she had to be carrying four guns on her and who knows how many knives on her person, she had to have two guns in her outfit and at least another two in her purse and her four henchmen were armed to the teeth as well and she could only stay for about an hour but Hazel found the dress and everyone gave it their stamp of approval and Charlotte gifted Hazel some really pretty jade jewelry which is customary for a Chinese bride to receive which honored that part of her heritage and traditions, which was really nice, it was a lovely time.” Sylva waived off as she got the picture and showed everyone the family picture she took.

“She has got to have the biggest balls in the world.” Tredd noted, impressed when he saw the picture.

“She’s got you beat, that’s for sure.” Stella teased.

“She’s got everyone beat.” Sylva laughed.

“So is this everyone or are more coming?” Sylva asked.

“More are coming.” Luna reported.

“How many more?” Sylva asked before her doorbell rang and slowly then all at once, everyone came as everyone started pulling all the components at the table, setting it up for a large extended friends and family meal before Luche and Ada came in last, both of them having anxious smiles on their faces.

“Is everything ok?” Sylva asked Luche as she tried to keep her knowing smile to a minimum.

“Yeah, yeah, everythings great.” Luche reassured her.

“You sure?” Sylva asked as she looked from Luche to Ada who had the same anxious smile on her face.

“Ok, so we have some news and we wanted everyone to be around to make the announcement and we don’t exactly know how it’s going to be received.” Luche hinted.

“If it’s what I think it is, I will do my best to lead the way in accepting the announcement with all the happiness and joy that such an announcement garners. But I also want to be the first to offer my congratulations.” Sylva reassured them both.

“Thank you.” Luche and Ada breathed in relief.

“Come on, dinner is getting cold.” Sylva encouraged them before they all came into the kitchen where everyone was getting something to drink with their dinner.

“So Luche and I chose wedding invitations!” Ada happily announced as she handed every couple an invitation as well as one to her parents and one to Luche’s parents as well.

“Wait, I thought we agreed on May 18th, this is in December..only three months, it’s the weekend before Nyx and Luna’s wedding?” Linda pointed out.

“Well that brings us to announcement number two. We’re pregnant, or rather Ada is.” Luche announced as there was just a hint of nervousness to his excitement as Sylva was the first to squeal, almost an excited scream in delight, only half a second before Crowe did which got everyone else to cheer joyfully as Sylva came over and hugged them both and offered her first “official” congratulations which got Linda and Ada’s mother Amelia and Linda to get over their initial shock and plaster on happy smiles and congratulate them before Ada was swarmed by the girls with hugs and congrats as the first ultrasound pictures were passed around that she had gotten the day before.

“So how far along are you?” Sylva asked.

“Ten weeks.” Ada announced as Tredd, Nyx and Ravus shared a rather knowing smile, but no money was passed between the three because Tredd and Ravus had “seen it” when Sylva had as well. Crowe especially was super happy because she wasn’t the only one pregnant anymore as her own little baby bump had seemed to pop out since her own wedding.

“Baby bump!” Crowe happily cheered as she gently bumped her little baby bump into Ada’s belly which got Ada to giggle as the two hugged tightly and couldn’t stop laughing.

“Congratulations man!” Libertus congratulated Luche as he hugged him super tightly.

“Thanks.” Luche laughed into the hug before he got more congratulations from everyone else as even Tredd was, for once, gracious.

“So what are you hoping for?” Tredd asked.

“A healthy baby and a non complicated delivery.” Luche answered honestly.

“Good. Ok, everyone listen up! Taking bets on due dates and gender, where’s a white board?” Tredd suddenly turned, raising his voice to shout over everyone as he received a mixture of laughter and groans from some of the adults as Sylva laughed the hardest as Tredd took the whiteboard off the fridge and the little marker and erased all the important reminders after taking a pic of what was on it so none of it would be lost.

“Ok so that technically puts Crowe five months ahead of Ada so if gestation is 40 weeks, that’s basically ten months and Ada is already ten of those 38-40 weeks in- that puts us at...holy shit you’re due on your original wedding date- May 18th. OK, So, taking bets on three day spreads May 18th, 19th and 20th? Any takers?” Tredd continued undeterred.

“You asshole, I announce my fiance is pregnant and you immediately turn it into a bet?” Luche laughed, not surprised by his friend’s behavior, but was hoping he would have at least five minutes before Tredd turned into “The Lovable Douche Asshole”, the lovable part was questionable though most of the time.

“May 12th through the 15th, and a boy and the winner gets bragging rights but all the money and proceeds go to Luche and Ada.” Sylva said as she fished several hundred dollar bills out of her wallet and handed them to Ada before discretely handing Tredd another one too.

“Sweet, first better, Sylva Caelum, May 12th through the 15th and a boy.” Tredd repeated as he wrote that down and put a note in his phone.

“Oh what the hell. Twenty quid on the 16th-19th and I want a granddaughter so I’m betting on a girl.” Amelia offered as she handed Luche and Ada the money with a laugh of her own.

“May 9th-12th, a boy.” Ignis said as he handed Luche a few hundred dollars as well.

“May 19 through the 21st and a boy as well.” Luna giggled as she handed the couple a few hundred dollars too.

“May 14th through the 17th, boy as well.” Ravus added as he gave Luche most of the money in his wallet.

“Amelia it looks like if it is a girl, you’re getting amazing odds, five to one, that’s pretty awesome.” Tredd grinned at Amelia.

“Oh hell, I say May 21st through the 24th, also a girl.” Linda added as she gave Luche and Ada some money too as soon Luche and Ada were holding wads of cash and laughing as their friends were giving them money as Tredd was taking “bets” from everyone as everyone joined in on this impromptu gamble.

“Ok, so this isn’t so bad.” Ada had to confess to Luche as they tried to organize their “winnings” into a “gift bag” that Sylva had on hand before they all sat down to eat dinner as Luche nodded his agreement to that. That had gone way better than he was fearing as Selena, Stella and Luna all looked at their fiances with thinly veiled suspicion as they were looking at each other knowingly as they also noticed that Sylva also seemed particularly smug as they all happily enjoyed a very nice friends and family dinner as they discussed baby shower ideas as well as when to plan all the bridal showers and such and made a new, accelerated timeline.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, MORE BLOOD Vol. 12: Mukami Ruki [Another Story]

Original title: アナザーストーリー

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, More Blood Vol. 12 Mukami Ruki [Deluxe Edition]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Takahiro Sakurai

Translator’s note: I feel very much conflicted about this CD still. While I do kind of like how they took a different approach with the Another Story track and the way it ends, I still think Ruki went way too far in the main CD. It was interesting to see everything from his perspective too, although this means there’s a bunch of inner monologues in this and it’s Ruki so they’re quite long. I try to break up the paragraphs by describing what happens based on background sounds and such but this one just has a bunch of rambling lol. 

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

“Lately, she has been formidable. Even though she was always the type of girl to make the most foolish mistakes, to the point where one would wonder if she did it on purpose. She has not been getting scolded by me either. That does not bother me. Or at least, it shouldn’t bother me. So why do I feel so...restless?”

*Ding・dongー Ding・dong*

Ruki walks up to you in the inner courtyard.

( So that’s where she’s been...Look at her just casually watering the plants... No wonder she did not show up in the library. I assume she has completely forgotten about our meeting. )

“So this is where you’ve been.”

You flinch.

( Huh? What’s wrong? Why would she be so surprised just because I called out for her? Also...Under normal circumstances, I’d assume she would panic and spray water all over me with that hose she just so conveniently happens to be holding. Yet, she made the wise decision and turned off the water. )

“Oh well. I shall praise you for ceasing your actions as soon as you saw your Master approach. However, there should be something you have forgotten.”

You bring up the promise.

“Oh? So you do remember. Then you should have just hurried to the library.”

( Now this is new. I didn’t think a scatterbrain such as herself would have remembered our plan to meet up. No, if she remembered, she should have come to me straight away. Did she only just now remember? Even so, her behavior is off. Or am I simply overthinking things? )

*TIMESKIP*

( Once it starts boiling, the dressing will be complete. Which leaves just plating the salad. )

You enter the kitchen.

“...Hm? You’re already here? You almost resemble a dog or a cat rather than livestock, lured in by the scent like that. Let me tell you just in case, it is not feeding time just yet. Wait until I’m done preparing it.“

You nod and leave.

( Oh? She left without offering to help? I’m glad to see her so obedient, but then what did she come for in the first place? Usually she would insist on helping even if it’s more of a bother and either cut her finger or break one of the plates. Those are the kind of things she does. )

He turns off the stove.

“What is this feeling as if something is...off? Something about the way she’s been acting trips me up. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her make a blunder even once as of late. That isn’t something which should bother me, but I just can’t seem to get rid of this unsettling feeling in my chest. What has gotten into her...?”

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki enters the room

“We finally made it back. That was quite the disaster. ...Honestly, why do I have to wear the clothes she picked out for me? Well, I suppose she did not make a bad choice for once. I’ll add it to my collection of casual wear. That being said...Nothing happened today either.”

He takes a seat on the bed.

“How many days has it been since she stopped making mistakes? She won’t even show dangerous behavior. What kind of miracle is this? No, I do not mind that. I shouldn’t mind it. It basically means a huge pressure has been lifted off my shoulders. Then why do I feel so conflicted? Her suspicious behavior piques my interest, but even beyond that...”

( I felt as if something was lacking. Oh, I get it now. It all makes sense now. I have not gotten to taste her blood as of late, so I must feel unsatisfied. I am not the type of guy who easily becomes thirsty for blood, nor would I indulge in her without a good reason. However, with less opportunities to punish her, our time together automatically decreased as well. To be upset because of that, I must seem like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because his mother does not pay enough attention to him. It is obvious since when I have become so obsessed with her

...Since the moment I decided to betray the whole word and chose her, I must have already been enraptured by her. Harshly sucking her blood while restraining her movements was something which fulfilled my desire for dominance. It most definitely made me feel good. However, somewhere deep inside, I felt relieved when she accepted me without fighting back against it. At some point, I even began to cherish those moments where I would pierce my fangs through her skin. I must be quite the easy man as well. I always thought I was in charge, but I may have actually been the one wrapped around her little finger instead. (1) I cannot show myself to that man like this. No, I assume he is already well aware. )

Ruki suddeny raises his head.

“Hm...? That man? Speaking of which, that hourglass I gave her...I considered the possibility but could it be...? Even if she were to make some sort of mistake, if she rewinds time, she could do the same scenario over again. If she makes it so only she remembers, it would be easy to keep it hidden from me. I wanted to believe I was simply overthinking things, but now that I think about it with a clear mind, it really is suspicious...I’m sure that even someone as slow as herself would eventually get things right after two of three tries. If she has been using that hourglass to cover up her own mess-ups, then I have no other choice but to punish her for such a foolish act.”

( It became clear to me that I would have to set up a trap to find out the truth. ーー And if her actions were to be exposed, I would make sure to compensate for the lack of disciplining these past few days. I can already imagine her crying out. I probably should not feel proud for having such thoughts. However, this is not a bad situation. It may be somewhat shameless, but it seems like I am enjoying it quite a bit. To get to use her own blunders as an excuse to suck her blood, or knowing that no matter what I do, she will not get away from me. )

“I suppose I shall enjoy our time together for the first time in a while...Which may just turn out to be a hellish period for her.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Ding・dongー Ding・dong*

Ruki pulls back after sucking your blood.

“...Hah. Your blood tastes even sweeter than usual. By sucking it repeatedly, the flavor ripens, becoming richer, almost like wine. Or in other words, like a stew you kept on the stove for too long. If it simmers any longer, it might just burn. I suppose we could put it to the test. After all, no matter what happens to you, all we have to do is turn back time.”

You keep quiet.

“You can hear me, right? Why not give some sort of reaction? I would not mind seeing you miserably struggle in vain.”

You still fail to give a response.

“Guess she really did lose consciousness. Judging by the looks of it, I doubt she will wake up even if I were to rewind time. I guess you could consider us even now. Perhaps I went a little too easy on her, but I shall forgive her now.”

He takes a step back.

“Such an innocent sleeping face. Almost as if the obscene expressions you showed me earlier were nothing but a lie. Your sheer white complexion and screams were not bad. As well as how you would cling onto my clothes, remaining by my side despite your obvious fear.”

*Thud*

“...Ah!”

*Cling*

“The hourglass...”

Ruki picks up the Hourglass.

“That man might have been testing me after all...Me? Or rather, us? ...Now that I think about it twice, the ability to manipulate time is something which should only ever be given to God. We could have possibly overthrown all logic in this world if we so wished. Yet, we used it to cover up for trivial mistakes. Then this is basically just some child’s toy. However...I am sure that was for the best.”

He turns his head to look at you.

“You might be more of a genius than I thought. However, how many times did you rewind? The magic has almost run dry. The few times I rewinded are basically irrelevant. I wonder just how many times you repeated your own ridiculous mistakes? Oh well, I shall drag that out of her later. I doubt she will easily confess though. ーー No, I suppose there is no point in asking her. I can simply confirm it with my very own eyes.”

*Cling*

“With this amount, we can still turn back time just once. That’s plenty.”

*Thud*

*Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock - Tick tock*

ーーー

“Hm…”

You approach Ruki.

“Oh? It’s you. No, it’s nothing serious. I was simply lost in thought.”

You take notice of the hourglass in his hand.

“You seem curious. Are you that interested in this thing? Blood red sand…Its decorations are beautiful as well. It would make for the perfect interior piece.”

You ask if there is a catch.

“No, it’s jsut a regular old hourglass. There is nothing special about it.”

*Thud*

“More importantly, you mentioned you wanted to look for resources for your assignment, right? Meet me at the library during tomorrow’s break time. I shall help you.”

You seem surprised.

“Yes. As your Master, it is my duty to look after you. However, do not be late, okay?”

You nod.

( Well then...I wonder what the next few days will have in store for me? How many mistakes will you make, and how many times will you get punished by me? ...I am looking forward to it. )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that he always intended to be the one ‘holding the reins’, but instead he was actually tied up/restrained this whole time. 

[fulokis]

Wrote this little dadneto in the MCU thing, so have fun. ‘

____

Erik Leshner stood in the collapsed building, next to the bomb siting on the floor looking harmless. He could barely look at the destruction around him. He had left his children in their hands, two of the only people in the world who knew why he had to abandon the twins. Now they were gone, their bodies lie somewhere underneath the rubble their last breaths long gone from their lungs.

The songs of war had moved into the distance, leaving their path of destruction in their wake. A path that his children had been right in the middle of. Erik wanted to scream, to tear the broken building off of its foundations and throw it far away. But deep down he couldn't, he was still too numb from hearing about the tragedy. Not only that but he couldn't destroy  the  resting place of the Maximoffs no matter how hard he tried.

Irena and Oleg, Erik wasn't even sure how he had known them. Perhaps it was through Magda, or perhaps he pondered he had known one of their parents a long time ago. Either way he knew them and despite being so closed off, liked them. They liked him too, by some twisted logic they trusted him and adored him like family. So when he ended up at their door asking them to take the twins, the only reason they hesitated was to make sure Erik had been sure of the decision.

Erik had never been sure of the decision. Now standing here among the wreckage he felt even less sure, as if he had made the wrong one. One of thousands of wrong decisions that he had made in his life. One of many more yet to come. Still Erik couldn't help but wonder how any of this would have turned out had he decided to keep the twins with him. He told him self over and over again that the outcome would have been worse. He could have had an attachment to them, and then have them ripped away from him. Just like so many other people he had cared for throughout his life.

Erik turned to face the giant hole in the building. Snow and ash fell on his hair making it look much more gray than it was. The smell of the cold mixed with the smell of burning wood and plastics from the nearby rubble where buildings once stood. Erik couldn't help but turn again to take a look over the destroyed apartment, hoping to find the bodies to give them a proper burial. All he could see were the shattered remains of items that had belonged in the apartment.  Most items held little to no significance, a broken TV playing some sort of sitcom, the couch where they had told the Maximoffs that they were expecting, the small guest bed strangely still intact.

Erik took a double take, the bed as he had remembered it was hardly steady. For it to survive the initial bomb blast was nothing short of a miracle. An extremely unlikely occurrence considering there was what appeared to be a defective bomb sitting right next to it. That's when he noticed the room itself was not nearly as damaged as it should be. One side had been obliterated, whilst the other remained almost perfectly intact. The other three small rooms of the apartment seemed to be gone themselves, with nothing but piles of concrete in their place.

Erik walked over slowly to the bed and closed his eyes in relief as he heard the squeak of a terrified child from under the bed. Erik chose a slab of concrete to sit down on, trying to make himself less intimidating to the child underneath the bed "Its okay I'm a friend." He said in broken Sokovian.

"You don't speak Sokovian that well." Came a young boy's voice from underneath the bed.

"No I don't. You however speak English quite well for someone your age."

"I'm not young your just old." The child said sticking his face out slightly eyeing Erik with curiosity.

"Peitro don't." A second child's voice came out from under the bed, much softer than the boy's.

"It's okay I don't bite." Erik said, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. They had both survived, and since they had survived one or both of them had manifested their powers.

"What are you doing here?" The boy asked still timid but not nearly as much as his sister.

"I was looking for survivors Peitro." Erik said.

"Hey how'd you know my name!" Peitro yelled.

"Your sister told me." Erik replied knowing he just lied to his kid.

"Oh." Peitro said, inching further out from under the bed, "You look funny, kinda like the people on the TV."

"Peitro!" The girl cried slapping him on the arm.

"Wanda what was that for?!"

"You don't know if we can trust him, besides that wasn't nice." Wanda said.

"You can trust me Wanda." Erik said, "I won't hurt you I promise."

A DVD case flew out from underneath the bed, clearly propelled by something other than a child's physical hand. Erik attempted to dodge the object but failed when it veered off what appeared to be its projected course, hitting him in the shoulder. Wanda peaked out a bit testing the water trying to see if Erik was telling the truth. "You promise?" She asked hesitantly.

"I promise." Erik said reaching a hand out. The girl slid from under the bed into the pale light of the street lamps reflecting off the snow. Erik had expected her to be covered in bruises and cuts, but all he could see was dirt and grime. "What day did this happen?" He asked softly his heart sinking as Wanda took his hand. She looked pale, and it was clear that she hadn't had any food or water in a day or two.

"Friday." She said a distant look in her eyes. Erik could feel his heart clench, last he had checked his watch it was one in the morning on Monday. These children— his children had been stuck up in the building for two full days. Sitting waiting for either the bomb, the exposure, or the lack of food and water to kill them. Erik silently cursed as a tear ran down his cheek. "Are you okay?" Wanda asked.

Erik took his free hand and wiped the tear away, "I'm okay." He said to her trying to reassure himself that he wasn't about to lose it and add to the chaos. "A little ash in my eye that's all."

"What's that?" Peitro asked pointing to the tattoo on Eriks wrist.

Erik looked down and slid his sleeve up a little more so that the twins could see. "I'm an orphan like you." He said quietly, "Some very bad people took my parents away from me. Then they gave me this tattoo and told me to work. There was a lot of killing, and a lot of families were torn apart."

"Are we gonna get torn apart?" Wanda asked.

"No." Erik said, "You two won't because I know you two will stick to each other like glue."

Wanda turned to face Peitro and the boy nodded. "Are you going to take us with you?"

Erik felt his heart sink. That was the exact question he was asking himself. "No, I can't. My work doesn't leave me much time for family."

"What do you do?" Peitro asked.

"Why are you here then?" Wanda asked.

"Slow down." Erik said aiming the comment towards his son than his daughter. "I work on top secret missions for the US government. Missions that don't allow me to have a family." Erik said knowing he was yet again lying to his children. "As to your question Wanda, I knew your parents."

"I would remember you." Wanda said.

"I knew your parents a long time ago, before you were born. I'm sure I knew them as very different people than you did. When I heard about what had happened I had to see. I'm glad the two of you are alive."

"Barely." Peitro said "I'm starving."

"How about this, I take you back to my hotel room and you can clean up and sleep? I'll take you two to the orphanage in a couple days." Erik said knowing it was a stretch. The truth was he needed to make himself scarce soon otherwise the authorities would find him, an occurrence that was sure to become nasty.

"No." Wanda said, "We go to the orphanage in the morning."

"I understand." Erik replied. He did understand, to the twins he was a stranger. A stranger looking to use them rather than it being out of the kindness of his heart. They were probably right, had they been any other kids he would have used them, or even disregarded them and left them to die.

"What now?" Wanda asked.

"Tell us a story!" Peitro said, running to where the bookshelf used to be at a slightly inhuman speed. "Aww they’re gone." He grumbled running back to his sister and Erik.

Erik smiled softly, Magic and superhuman speed, just what the situation would have needed. Magic was in the twins veins, and their mother was quite gifted with her magic. Speed on the other hand seemed to be a new addition to the mutant tree, but that didn't mean that it wasn't predictable. After all Peitro had seemed to be constantly moving around in the womb, and the one time Erik had called Irena, she told him they couldn't stop Peitro from running off.

"Do you have any stories?" Wanda asked looking at her father.

"Yes I do Wanda. Not in books though, stories in my head."

"Tell us one!" Peitro yelled.

"I know the perfect one." Erik said standing up and sitting on the guest bed back against the wall. He patted next to him and one twin sat on either side of him. "A long time ago there was this group of people..."

"Is there any action?!" Peitro asked.

"Why is it always fighting?" Wanda asked "Why can't you accept a peaceful story about people?"

"Shh, there's plenty of both." Erik consoled the twins before starting the story again. "This group of people were fighting for people like them, people who were different."

"Different how?" Wanda asked.

"These people had powers, abilities beyond your wildest imaginations. They fought so others like them and their children could live in a world that accepted them. Some of them looked different, and had strange appearances. Some of them looked like you or me, but had powerful abilities that one would never be able to guess."

"Like flight?" Peitro asked.

"Yes like flight." Erik confirmed the soft smile returning to his face, "They created silly little names for each other, each one embraced a part of who they are. They called themselves the X-men."

"Are the X-men real?" Wanda asked.

"Maybe they were. This was so long ago no one is quite sure. I doubt if they were real they are still around anymore." Erik said pausing to collect his thoughts. It had been so long ago on the beaches of Cuba where he had stood, in his mid twenties and full of rage and anger. That man that had stood there was gone, replaced with a much more dangerous combination of those primal emotions.

"Keep going?" The boy asked leaning in closer to Erik.

"Only if you don't interrupt any more." Erik teased.

"We won't we promise." Wanda said sending a glare towards her brother.

Erik continued to tell the twins the exploits of the X-men. How in the end they saved the world, and how they were held as heroes among the people they had fought so hard to gain acceptance from. How in the end they were forced to keep themselves a secret for fear that they would be hunted down despite their heroics. How even though heroes can do all the right things sometimes life makes them walk a different path.

Erik finished the story and looked down. Both twins were snoring softly, having fallen asleep likely for the first time in days. Erik couldn't keep in the tears, he could feel as they ran down his face. The cold making the trails of moisture they left behind burn on his skin.

He still remembered the last time he had held them like this. Three days after they were born Magda had come down with a fever. Three days after that she was dead, not even the hospital was sure what had happened. Erik still could feel as both newborns were in his arms fast asleep unbeknownst about their mother in pain and agony next to them. He could still feel the tears as he watched the doctors rush in to try and save her. The numbness when it was all over and when the sun rose. He still felt the pain, sometimes as if it were happening all over again. 

That was the first time the twins had lost their parents. Erik knew he changed after that, he always knew he would. Now sitting here holding the twins he realized they never even knew that they had lost their parents before. For them this was the first time they had experienced this, pain that lasts for a life time. Erik had given them up so they wouldn't have to experience this in the event he got into some trouble he couldn't simply solve with magnetism. Ironically that didn't save them. The act meant to save them and let them be children had failed.

So what was stopping him from taking them home? Living a quiet life somewhere? Erik knew the answer, he was afraid. Afraid to loose again. He knew that if he knew them, and then lost them things would go bad very fast. He didn't want that, Magda, his mother, anyone who had loved him, didn't want that. The anger and rage he held would explode, and Erik knew that if he were to explode the world might not be around anymore.

Peitro stirred a bit, and Erik looked down to make sure he was still asleep. Both twins looked a lot like their mother. They had inherited the dark brown hair and the same shaped nose. Peitro's eyes were just like Magda's. Wandas eyes were like his own, as well as her personality. Erik feared for her, not about what had happened but rather what would happen and what events might set her down an even darker path than the one she walked.

Erik sighed, exhausted from finding his way to the small country. He had seen the news, the several city blocks leveled by bombs. Thousands dead by the estimates and thousands more injured. He had come as fast as he could, unfortunately he feared he was not fast enough.

He pulled both twins in closer to him, in the hopes that his body heat would be able to keep them alive for the next few hours. Neither one seemed to mind or maybe they were to tired to even care. For a second Erik could imagine that they were at the little home he and Magda had bought, sitting in the room with the skylight watching the stars. But they weren't and they never would. Erik placed a small kiss on the top of each twins head before drifting off to sleep himself.

Hours later he was woken by the flashlight of a Red Cross worker. Erik wasn't expecting them to have shown up, but it was for all the better considering the twins had to go back into normal society. Although most people would write the story of him floating the three of them in the air down to the ground as the overactive imagination of a child.

The volunteer that had climbed over the building started speaking Sokovian. Erik could barely understand them, and neither twin was up, "Ich spreche Deustch." Erik said without thinking. 

"Um." The young woman said, "Do you speak English?"

Erik chuckled, "Yes I speak English."

"Are you hurt? Are either of your kids hurt?" She asked, slowly trying to remember the right sounds to say.

"No. The kids need food and water though." Erik said softly looking at the twins. They looked worse than they had previously, something Erik attributed to the lack of light at night.

"You are fine?" She asked confused.

"Yes, I'm a friend to their family." Erik said.

"You were not here when the bombs dropped then?"

"No." Erik said.

"Can you carry them?" The woman asked signaling some people at the bottom of the building.

"Yes." Erik said, "One at a time though." The woman nodded at him and Erik stood up sliding Peitro to lie on the bed while scooping Wanda in his arms. Erik nodded at the young woman and she helped direct him to the edge of the building where there was a makeshift rope ladder. Erik took hold of the ladder with one hand holding tight onto Wanda. Erik climbed down carefully trying to protect Wanda from the wind blowing snow and ash their way. Erik made it down and placed Wanda on a makeshift bed in the back of a pickup truck. Erik repeated the same thing with Peitro nearly falling a couple times due to the wind.

Erik placed Peitro next to his sister and looked at the two of them sleeping peacefully next to each other. He sighed knowing what had to come next. He didn't have the heart to wake them up, they needed their sleep. "Don't loose each other." He started to whisper to them "Don't let anyone push you down. Stand up for one another and stick together. The world is hard and cruel, having someone by your side will soften the blows. I wish I did. Don't forget who you are either, don't loose yourselves to the pain and rage. Just remember who you are and you'll be fine."

Erik stood up and looked at the young woman who had climbed down after him. "Can I trust you'll get them somewhere safe?"

"You are not taking them?" She asked confused.

"No." Erik felt his voice crack, "I can't." The woman nodded at him and the small band of volunteers packed up the area. Their sweep had yielded no one except the twins and there was no reason for them to stay in the area. Erik watched as they climbed in the back of the truck protecting his kids. He watched as the trails of exhaust disappeared off into the distance. That was it he knew, he was lucky to even get this chance. For the second time in his life Erik Lehnsherr had abandoned his children, and this time he was even less sure of his decision. But now it was over, he would never see them again, and he knew that was for the best.

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens Secret Santa 2020 - “Lights Will Guide You Home” (Rated PG13)

Summary: While watching the kids for the night, Crowley takes them all on an adventure, which includes a trip to the states to look at the Christmas lights. He drives them around to see bigger and gaudier displays, but Aziraphale is a little confused when he finally gets to see Crowley's favorite. (1556 words)

Notes: Written for Micha (@one-with-the-floor) as part of the Good Omens Secret Santa 2020 gift exchange.

Read on AO3.

"How about this one, kids? This might be the brightest one yet! ... Kids? ... Kids?" Crowley looks in his rearview mirror and scowls. "Oi! When did the little buggers fall asleep?" 

Aziraphale turns away from his window and the house beyond covered in every twinkle light available on the Eastern Seaboard (he suspects) and gives Crowley a confused look. Then, remembering that they aren't alone in Crowley's Bentley, he peeks over at the seat behind them, where five children snore softly, heads leaning on shoulders, fast asleep. "About five houses ago, I believe? Give or take? That's the last time I heard any ooo'ing or ahh'ing."

"Which house was that?"

"The one with the nativity scene made up of inflatable dragons breathing fire and wearing Santa caps."

Crowley's brow draws together as he tries to recall. "Oh, yeah. Right." He looks over his shoulder so he can see the pile of children properly: Warlock dressed in his stiff new Christmas suit, Adam a bit less formal in khakis and a pale blue polo, the rest of The Them a hodgepodge of wrinkled trousers, thick-soled shoes, and shirts of various fit alongside Pepper's red velvet gown, which her parents forced her to wear (a fact she stated numerous times throughout the evening) and which she accessorized with a faux leather jacket and a bulky pair of Doc Martens. "What's the deal with them knocking out so early? They're kids! They're supposed to be boundless founts of energy, aren't they?"

"Early? It's close to one in the morning!"

"Yes, but if you take into consideration the clan of gingerbread people they decimated, then washed down with a gallon of cocoa, they should be bouncing off the ceiling! We've been out for, what? An hour? Two?"

"Try four," Aziraphale says, checking his watch to be sure. "Did you have to miracle us all the way to the states?"

"Yes," Crowley says definitively. "They do Christmas a little differently out here. Bigger. More grandiose."

"That's an understatement," Aziraphale mutters as they pass a house so festooned with lights and animatronic creatures, he can't see the structure they're affixed to. "As is, I'm not sure how exactly you're getting away with miracling the lot of us abroad."

"When Hell finds out I used my magic to take five children across borders without passports, they'll be ecstatic!"

"But will Warlock's parents? Or Adam's?"

"Who's going to tell them?" Crowley shoots his angel a significant look, but Aziraphale matches it, arms crossed over his chest, glaring sternly, and Crowley backs down. "Look, their parents ditched them with us so that they could go off drinking and regaling and having a good time."

"Ditched them?" Aziraphale chuckles at Crowley's skewed point of view. "We offered!"

"And we promised these kids a good time!"

"You definitely delivered," Aziraphale says, smiling at his memories of their night: the snowball fight that ended with them crashing an outdoor service; the horde of snow zombies they built in the yards of a quiet and unsuspecting neighborhood; the hills they zipped down using trashcan lids as sleighs. Aziraphale was horrified by most of these to begin with, but that didn't last. Not when he saw how thoroughly the children enjoyed themselves. 

Crowley, too. 

But driving around, looking at lights? That was an unexpectedly tame suggestion. And Crowley was rather insistent. "But why did you want us to see Christmas lights?"

"Because it's important."

"How?"

"This is the only time of year you get to see this," Crowley explains, gesturing vaguely.

"And what's that? Enough wattage to coax down passing aircraft? Or are you perhaps referring to the eight-foot Santa mooning passersby?"

"No," Crowley replies. But that Santa was hilarious! The children spotted him from miles away and made Crowley drive over. They spent a good fifteen minutes pointing and laughing, making the kinds of off-colored jokes that make parents shush! But more hilarious was his angel's scandalized reaction - his dramatic tut, followed by an even more dramatic, "God Lord." "Humanity." Crowley sighs. "I know I talk a lot about Christmas becoming vulgar and over-commercialized. And come the day after, it'll be back to the business of not giving a shite about their fellow man, trampling each other in the shops to get the most ridiculous garbage at seventy-five percent off ..."

"Something you earned a commendation for, if I recall," Aziraphale points out.

"... but when humans light their houses like this, invite their neighbors to gather 'round, they're saying 'All are welcome! Stop on by! Let's celebrate together!'"

"To me, it's more like they're saying, 'Look at me! Look at all of this useless bother I own! Who cares that I'm diverting migratory birds from their destinations? Astronauts can see my house from space!'"

"Agree to disagree then," Crowley grumbles, then goes silent, and Aziraphale knows he's teased one step too far.

"The children falling asleep will make it easier to transport them," Aziraphale says, easing into a new subject until he can think of a way to apologize. "We can miracle them into their beds when we get back to the Dowling's. Then we can do a little regaling of our own."

Crowley grins. He can't stay stung by his angel forever. He's just too sentimental tonight to have a sense of humor. "Sounds about perfect. Been a while since I've done any regaling."

"Tonight's as good a time as any to start."

Crowley turns down a street with fewer lights and no neighbors milling about, preparing to snap them back to London. "Which house was your favorite?"

"Oh, none of these," Aziraphale says snobbishly. "I'm not the biggest fan of modern-day extravagance. I would have to say my favorite out of all the displays was that abbey down by the river: fairy lights reflecting off the water; tasteful nativity out front; evergreen trimmed with simple decorations - wooden star atop, red velvet bows, paper angels ..."

"Leave it to you to choose the one holy place we found, and only because we took a wrong turn."

Aziraphale wiggles happily in his seat. "You know what they say - there are no accidents."

"Yup. And four rights make a left."

Aziraphale pulls a face. "I ... don't think that's correct ..."

"Don't matter." Crowley turns in his seat, looks at his angel. "Do you wanna see my favorite?"

Aziraphale smiles, all thoughts of turns shelved for the moment. "Of course." "Alright. It's back in our neck of the woods, so hold on tight."

Aziraphale reaches to the side, takes Crowley's free hand in his, gives it a squeeze. "Ready."

Crowley snaps his fingers. 

For a single second, the world stops. 

A bright light surrounds the Bentley, engulfs it in its brilliance. In the amount of time it takes for Crowley's fingers to slide across one another, they're home. 

Aziraphale blinks, looks about as his eyes adjust to the lower light. He expected to see a house pulsating with a glow equal to a thousand suns outside his window, maybe with Virgin Mary riding a motorbike behind the abominable snowman while the angel Gabriel wrestles an alligator. But the shapes around him are familiar. His brow wrinkles as he tries to understand what he's seeing. They're not just back in London, they're in Soho.

Right outside his shop. 

"Which one is it?" Aziraphale looks up and down the block at darkened storefronts, most of them as frugally adorned as his own - a rope of garland, a wreath, a silver bell or two, but nothing special. Nothing noteworthy. Nothing even close to the houses they spent the night ogling. 

"This one right here." Crowley points past Aziraphale toward a set of wooden double doors.

Aziraphale frowns. "But ... that's my bookshop."

"A-ha."

"I didn't do much in the way of decorating."

"I know."

"And I don't like when people stop in, so it's not as if I'm encouraging my neighbors to gather."

"Know that, too."

"So, why is it your favorite?"

"Because ..." Crowley scoots across the seat, puts an arm around Aziraphale's shoulders "... it's home."

"You consider a dusty old bookshop home? When you own that mansion of a flat in Mayfair?"

"You consider the bookshop your home, don't you?"

"Yes, but that's because my books are there, my liquor cabinet, my snuff boxes - everything I'm fond of. Everything I adore."

"What a coincidence. Because everything I'm fond of ... everything I adore ... is at your shop."

"And what would that be?" Aziraphale asks sarcastically. "My bottle of Hennessy Paradis Imperial?"

"No. You, you pair of walnuts," a grumpy Warlock responds in Crowley's stead.  

Crowley glares at his young charge over his shoulder. "Rude."

"Look, could you guys take us home first and then make out?" Adam asks.

"Yeah," Pepper agrees. "My entire body is numb except for my right eyelid."

"Plus, listening to adults flirt kind of grosses me out," Brian adds, the rest mumbling in agreement.

"Alright, alright," Crowley growls, sliding back into his seat and putting the car into drive. "We'll drive you ankle-biters home, and then ..."

"We regale! Which I'm confident will include plenty of 'making out'? Right, my dear?"

"Absolutely," Crowley says with a smirk. Aziraphale snorts when their cluster of pre-teens groan.

"I think we're making them uncomfortable, angel." 

"Serves them right," Aziraphale says, straightening in his seat. "I could have happily gone on for another six thousand years without seeing Santa Claus's rear end. Vengeance is mine."

[wizzard890]

heretic update - oh shit

I have to be honest guys, things went absolutely catastrophically for Andreas last session. he lost everything on a wave of his own choices, made hotly, sometimes intelligently, always passionately, and the consequences have set him back so hard that his only way out of darkness was a terrible and genuine spiritual awakening. 

it’s great. 

when we last left Andreas, it was with his friend Bernadetta accused of witchcraft. her only chance was the successful recreation of an ancient Christian ritual that Andreas hoped to enact while she was on the pyre. he did not believe in God’s grace or goodness, or the inherent power of the story. instead he wanted to trick a miracle out of God, to create the same circumstance in which He had interceded before. 

it didn’t work. 

Bernadetta indeed ended up on the pyre. she actually started to burn. nothing Andreas had done protected her, and as he became aware of his awful mistake, of his arrogance, he heard her through the smoke, calling out to God. he heard her start to sing as her eyes were opened by something he was blind to. just then, when all hope seemed lost, it began to rain out of a formerly clear sky, dousing the flames, and lightning struck the tree above the pyre, blasting any remainder of Andreas’s carnival of a ritual apart. Bernadetta was saved by a miracle, one she had earned. she said, afterward, nearly insensible but with a blazing focus in her eyes, that she had seen an angel. 

Andreas had seen nothing. he had seen nothing, and found himself suddenly arrayed against a God, a divinity, who had reached out of heaven and granted Bernadetta a vision. he didn’t know where his path was supposed to take him now. all his anger, all the furious questions he wanted to spit at God’s feet when he found Him - they seemed to shrink. they seemed, with a painful clarity, questions for a man. one who had never loved him, who had hurt him. they were questions for his father, recently dead at Andreas’s own hand. 

then the English army arrived. 

(do not forget, never forget, that it’s 1347.)

Edward, the crown prince of the very same, remained imprisoned under Andreas’s sorcery, forced to protect the young comte with his life. the two of them had formed a certain rapport, something that grew out of the scaffolding of watching one another like cats for a mistake. guess which of them fucked up first?

Andreas planned to surrender to the English, on the condition that he and his friends would remain unharmed. as a French noble in the Aquitaine, Andreas somewhat welcomes English rule, and more to the point, if the French took Poitou, Edward would mastermind the rest of his campaigns from Andreas’s palace, which would keep Blanche nearby. Andreas swore, over and over again, that he would do whatever was necessary to stay with her. 

so he and Edward agreed: Andreas would stand down without a fight, Edward would rule from Poitou, and Andreas would remain with him, protected, certain of his friends’ safety, and able to take Blanche, Edward’s impersonally betrothed, as his lover. 

it was a really really great idea, and a really really fucking stupid mistake. bind the prince of England with dark magic, this prince, and all you have is a jessed hawk, just waiting for you to drop your glove and turn your back. 

the English army wasn’t in the palace for fifteen minutes before Edward had Andreas, Philippe and their allies seized and thrown in the dungeons. Blanche was swiftly placed under lock and key. only Bernadetta and Tomassin managed to escape unharmed. 

for three months, Andreas rotted away in the cells, very credibly accused of witchcraft. they were the same cells he’d been held in as a boy, as exorcists tortured him for weeks on end. he was fed and well taken care of - any harm visited on him would be refracted on Edward’s own body after all, and the crown prince was no fool. Andreas tried to hurt himself, just to make Edward feel an ounce of pain, but he failed. it’s hard to stab yourself, actually, or break your own fingers, or refuse food. it’s hard to hold onto your sanity in a stone room where your nightmares were born, with no hope of escape, knowing that you were the reason the people you love have been trapped and even killed. 

so Andreas waited. in the dark, filled with resentment, scraping himself back together every day out of pure spite. Edward wanted him caged and helpless. but from the very bedrock of his soul, Andreas refused to oblige him. maybe it was that refusal, that hatred, those repeated attempts to open his own skin out of sheer enmity, that brought the dark visitation. 

it began appearing in the blackest corners of the cell. not a shape: a presence. a formless predator. something with a terrible focus, the awful held breath at the very edge of a blade. and as Andreas became aware of it and how he could fit between its jaws, it advised him to be patient. to bide his time. it inquired, silently but with force, who his enemy was. it bid him to offer up their soul. Andreas named Edward, and promised the prince’s death to his visitor. for its aid and its vision. the pact was struck. 

it was the first sight of something Beyond this world that Andreas had ever encountered. it was the first thing that had ever gripped his soul and brought it shuddering to attention. Bernadetta saw an angel on the pyre, yes. but there in the dark of his cell, Andreas was visited by the Black Captain.

so he held onto the word that had been provided for him by that inhuman advisor: patience. he found that the hallucinations brought on by isolation began to fade. he felt himself getting stronger and sleeping better, though he didn’t need the latter much at all. it was like a transfusion of something hotter than blood. 

weeks passed. 

and then one morning, a young woman in a nun’s habit entered his cell, accompanied by a Spaniard with a sword on his back. the woman asked Andreas directly if he was a witch. shocked at the sight of the pair, he denied it reflexively. in response, she...read him, somehow, Andreas didn’t know what was happening, just that he felt some watery intrusion into his mind before she withdrew, seemingly satisfied. 

they needed to hurry, she told him with a grin as the Spaniard swung the cell door open wide. the guards would be coming soon. and if they wanted to get out of here alive, they needed to move. 

-

next update: escape! and what comes after. 

[smiting-finger]

Previous HP AU parts: Here, here, here and here

“So, Requiem,” Wei Wuxian says as soon as the image on the surface of the bronze mirror ripples out into the uppermost three quarters of Nie Huaisang’s head.

(“My brother hung it in the office when he took over as Sect Leader,” Nie Huaisang explains during their first mirror-call after Wei Wuxian’s return. 

Wei Wuxian immediately drops the topic.

“Do the other Sect Leaders just … let it go?” he asks Lan Zhan later, and receives a small headshake in reply.

“He adds extra seat cushions to his chair during official meetings,” Lan Zhan says, his voice uncoloured by emotion, his gaze steady as he turns to meet Wei Wuxian’s. “But he says they’re difficult to balance on.”

Wei Wuxian drops the topic a second time.)

“The song that we learned at school for calming restless souls?” Nie Huaisang asks with three quarters of an appraising look, and then adds, “Those of us who weren’t tone-deaf, anyway.”

“That’s the one,” Wei Wuxian agrees, and if that’s a dig at the time he deliberately played out of tune and almost sent old Professor Lan beyond the veil to soothe the spirits of the dead in person, he stands by his choices.

(If it’s a reference to Wen Ning, then - well, the poor boy tried his best. You can’t be good at everything.)

“I was thinking,” he continues, leaning back in his chair. He waves his wand at the small pile of paper birds in front of him, which line up obediently along the desk edge and take turns to divebomb the makeshift target drawn on the back of his office door. 

“We use Requiem as a conduit to magically encourage emotional calm - so there’s no reason, in theory, that we couldn’t use music to do the opposite, is there?”

Nie Huaisang taps his fan against his chin a few times (or, at least, that’s what Wei Wuxian assumes is causing the soft patting sounds he hears, since his line of sight stops at Nie Huaisang’s upper lip), before asking:

“You want to ... compose a song that makes souls restless?”

“Not restless,” Wei Wuxian doesn’t need magic to do that, “I just want to … encourage them to feel certain things. Or have certain states of mind.”

He slings a dart at the door and sighs when it only barely makes it into the target’s outermost boundary.

“You mean,” Nie Huaisang begins slowly, “like that time with Professor Lan and your shitty flute playing in third year?”

“Well, yes,” Wuxian allows, because technically that is what happened, “but also no. I’m also thinking more through the actual music than the quality thereof. And ... I’m also possibly not looking to induce rage?”

His second dart lands closer to the centre, but not by much. A paper bird embedded into the next section over starts to shake its butt at him in a smug victory dance.

Rude.

“So instead,” Nie Huaisang prompts gently, “you’re looking to induce…?”

“...arousal?” Wei Wuxian offers hopefully.

There’s a moment of silence, which is eventually broken by the slide of Nie Huaisang’s fan as he flicks it open.

“Why?” he asks finally, doing a remarkable job of keeping the judgment out of his face.

“The pursuit of knowledge is a worthwhile goal in and of itself,” Wei Wuxian supplies in his loftiest impression of Lan Qiren’s lecture-voice.

Nie Huaisang simply looks at him.

“And maybe in this case, the knowledge might have some personal application, too,” Wei Wuxian admits, and is met with a second moment of silence.

“I truly don’t know if Lan Wangji deserves my condolences or congratulations,” Nie Huaisang says eventually, and shakes his head.

“Why not both?” Wei Wuxian shrugs.

-

“It comes down to a question of whether lust is fundamentally physical or spiritual, doesn’t it?” Lan Xichen muses between stirs. “Could you pass me the three-legged crow feathers, please? They’re in the box on the - no, the one next to - yes, that one, thank you.”

He takes the dish from Wei Wuxian, scatters the feathers evenly across the bubbling surface of whatever potion he’s brewing and immediately takes a step back, drawing Wei Wuxian along by the elbow. A second later, the feathers begin to spark, whizzing around in jerky figure-eights before finally sinking into the pale liquid with a soft hiss and a few wisps of white smoke.

“Now where were we?” Lan Xichen asks himself, picking up his wooden ladle to resume his gentle stirring. “Oh yes, that’s right. Requiem acts on the metaphysical component of the being - the mind and soul, if you will. We know that because of its effectiveness on ghosts, who possess no physical component at all. Therefore, it follows that if lust is purely - or, otherwise necessarily - physical, then Requiem will not be a useful basis for what you’re trying to achieve.”

“Right,” Wei Wuxian says, nodding slowly. “And that’s not even considering that the physical and mental components of lust might vary in comparative size from person to person...”

Lan Xichen hums in agreement and opens a box of yao grass, carefully selecting a sprig and then slipping off the small cord binding it together.

“We’ll just have to test it, then,” Wei Wuxian decides firmly.

To Lan Xichen’s credit, his hand, outstretched as it is over the mouth of the cauldron, only pauses for the briefest of moments before his fingers uncurl to allow the yao grass to fall in.

“I look forward to your findings,” he says serenely.

-

“Get out,” Lan Qiren says.

“But-” Wei Wuxian protests, because he has an entire speech prepared to explain why, as the Theory of Magic teacher, Lan Qiren should be absolutely be interested in this project.

“OUT,” Lan Qiren thunders.

Wei Wuxian gets.

-

“Can ghosts even … release?” Nie Huaisang wonders from his perch on the edge of the water, on one of his rare visit to the Gusu Academy. 

With both classes and Nie Huaisang’s official business finished for the day, the afternoon presents a perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to indulge in nostalgia for their schooling days. And so, as soon as lunch is over, he drags Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning out the door and into a romp all over the grounds to marvel at all the things that have changed, as well as all the things that haven’t.

Somehow they’ve ended up at the cold springs, the scene of many a student tryst (tragically, not a single one of them involving Wei Wuxian), and countless youthful fantasies.

None of which the three of them are calling to mind, sitting as they are with their pant legs rolled up to their knees so that they can soak their feet (or, in Wen Ning’s case, hold their feet above the water in a good approximation thereof) like the old men they are.

It’s not quite like the old days (the absence of a familiar, derisive snort; of the loud words that are almost sharp enough to hide the fondness thrumming beneath them like heartbeats under breastbone, is too pronounced for that), but in the miracle of After, it’s more than Wei Wuxian thought he’d be able to have.

(It’s enough.)

“Let’s say lust is metaphysical enough for your reverse-Requiem to work,” Nie Huaisang continues, “and then you play it for a spirit, and get them worked up. What do they ... do with that? Can ghosts-”

He makes an unmistakeable jerking gesture with his hand.

Wei Wuxian frowns. He hadn’t considered that.

And then, with an eerie synchronisation that Wei Wuxian can only attribute to the seven formative years they spent living in each other’s pockets, they turn as one to look at Wen Ning, who lets out an alarmed squeak.

“Does it matter?” Wei Wuxian asks, deciding to take pity on Wen Ning and refrain from pursuing that line of inquiry, 

“Well,” Nie Huaisang answers, turning to him with a significant wide-eyed glance, “think about it this way: if you were a resentful spirit, and someone played a song for you that made you build up all this lust that had nowhere to go … wouldn’t you become more resentful?”

Wen Ning squeaks again, his eyes like black saucers in his pale face.

“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says, pausing to consider this most excellent point.

“Actually, wait” Nie Huaisang says after a moment. “There’s at least one outlet that I’ve just thought of-”

“Possession,” Wei Wuxian supplies immediately.

“Right?” Nie Huaisang exclaims, waving his fan excitedly. “Can you imagine, a horny, possessed horde-”

“-charging around the countryside” Wei Wuxian continues, grinning with mixed horror and delight, “humping everything in its path-”

(They spend the next hour casting bubble-head charms on themselves and taking turns to swim to the bottom of the cold spring so that they can promise Wen Ning that no, they certainly won’t be asking him to help them test any of this, and they won’t be testing anywhere near him, either, Wei Wuxian will make sure that all testing happens far, far away, so can he please come back out now, the students would be sad if he stayed hiding inside the pool forever-)

-

“WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSING?” Jin Ling yells, not letting the fact that he’s currently upside-down and hanging from the ceiling get in the way of his outrage.

“Students who break into my office to poke around my things have no right to complain about what they find,” Wei Wuxian replies calmly, leaning back in his chair so that he can look up at the two bodies suspended in mid-air and wriggling fruitlessly against the confines of their bindings. 

“IT WAS A DARE,” Jin Ling shouts defensively, starting to swing back and forth from the force of his own righteousness.

“I wouldn’t be so proud of that if I were you,” Lan Jingyi mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian inquires politely, leaning forward so that he can rest his elbows on his desk and pointedly steeple his fingers at his miscreant students. 

“A dare to look through my notes?”

“No,” Jin Ling shoots back hotly, before subsiding into a muttered, “I just looked at those because they were there. AND,” he resumes, remembering his earlier indignation, “when I did,” it turned out to be all - all -”

What the boys have managed to find are actually all Wei Wuxian’s half-sketched plans of ways to surpass (or just match, Wei Wuxian would be more than happy with even approximately matching) Lan Zhan’s patently unmatchable love confession. 

(Ten years of waiting and the first thing out of his mouth when he sees Wei Wuxian’s face again is “Wei Ying, I love you.”

What was the first thing that came out of Wei Wuxian’s mouth after seeing Lan Zhan’s face again?

“Ho ho ho, you think your puny barrier charm is gonna make me sleep in this box when I could be sleeping in your bed? Well think again!”

It really doesn’t compare.)

So far, each one has ended in a frustrated jumble of scribbled-out lines and some variation on WHAT WAS I THINKING? THIS DOESN’T EVEN COME CLOSE, but he’ll get there eventually.

“-all-” Jin Ling continues to splutter, “plans to - to have your way with Professor Lan!”

Wei Wuxian hums in agreement. What a charmingly missish turn of phrase - Jiang Cheng’s fingerprints are all over the boy’s upbringing.

“Everyone’s always talking about all the things you invented during the War,” Jin Ling continues to rage, unaware that his intended audience is only half-listening, “talking about how you were the best mind of your generation - The best mind, and THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE WASTING IT ON?”

“Can you stop?” Lan Jingyi hisses. “If you make him angry, he’ll never let us go!”

He jerks his hip in a clear attempt to nudge his fellow prisoner. Unfortunately for him, he uses too much force and overshoots the mark, excess momentum instead sending them both spiralling around each other as the charmed ropes holding them up begin to rapidly intertwine.

“What else would I use it on?” Wei Wuxian asks, watching with badly-concealed amusement as the boys’ efforts to stop spinning only make them spin faster. “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t think of anything more important than getting into Lan Zhan’s-”

“SHAMELESS!” Jin Ling howls as he and Lan Jingyi begin to spin in the opposite direction.

“STOP YELLING!” Lan Jingyi yells.

“You wouldn’t have seen it, because I haven’t written it down yet,” Wei Wuxian continues mercilessly over the top of the resultant shouting match. “But if the song doesn’t work, there’s this part-human creature in Europe that does an apparently irresistible seduction dance. It shouldn’t take me too long to learn it-”

Jin Ling’s answering bellow of rage, Wei Wuxian notes fondly, is almost an exact copy of Jiang Cheng’s.

-

“So what’s this actually about?” Nie Huaisang asks during their next mirror-call, after Wei Wuxian plays another three notes that create a curl of something in his belly that could maybe be mild interest (or could maybe be just gas).

“What do you mean, ‘actually’?” Wei Wuxian asks reflexively, picking up his brush and carefully crossing yet another failed stanza off his list. “It’s about what it’s about - expanding my foreplay repertoire so that Lan Zhan doesn’t get bored and leave me for Mianmian.”

“You said it wasn’t about inciting rage,” Nie Huaisang continues thoughtfully, completely ignoring him. “So what else would you need to draw out of people?”

He tilts his face up towards the ceiling and purses his lips.

“It wouldn’t be happiness - we’ve already got charms for that - sadness? But why would you-”

Nie Huaisang freezes, and then slowly, carefully, brings his eyes back down to meet Wei Wuxian’s.

Theirs is a generation that grew up in war. Who among them doesn’t have unresolved grief? Who doesn’t have emotions they’ve repressed (trauma, resentment, guilt) - at first because there wasn’t the time or energy between the fighting and the surviving to properly work through them, and then afterwards because it just seemed easier to move on and try to forget?

(How many ghosts are unable to move on because they cannot resolve worldly attachments that they’re too afraid to remember?)

Nie Huaisang clears his throat.

“Why don’t you play me that last one again?” he suggests lightly. “I think you inverted one of the chords wrong. After we fix that, maybe it’ll work better.”

-

“Oh good, you’re back,” Wei Wuxian says when he steps into the Jingshi to find Lan Zhan already waiting. “Shall we-”

“Am I not passionate enough for you?” Lan Zhan cuts in, apropos of nothing. His voice is mild, but there’s a glint in his eyes that puts Wei Wuxian on immediate alert.

(And Little Wei Wuxian on immediate alert too, but that’s basically a given when Lan Zhan is involved.)

“...no? What makes you think that?” Wei Wuxian asks carefully, and Lan Zhan mutely lifts up a very familiar, half-finished composition.

Ah.

“I can explain,” Wei Wuxian offers quickly, holding his arms out between them and automatically stepping backwards in response to Lan Zhan’s very forceful (and very long!) step forwards.

“I have very valid reasons,” he adds, continuing to scramble back as Lan Zhan continues to advance, until he finds himself pinned between a rock and Lan Zhan’s hard, manly chest, “none of which are in any way a challenge to the strength of your ardour-”

He has just enough time for a half-laugh, half-yelp as he’s picked up and thrown onto the bed, and then all further protests are put on hold while Lan Zhan proves, aggressively and comprehensively, that he’s more than passionate enough.

-

With Lan Zhan’s musical expertise involved, the deconstruction of Requiem into its core magical components goes a lot more smoothly, and much more quickly.

The “testing” of Wei Wuxian’s derivative composition also becomes a lot more fun, if a lot less reliable in terms of producing valid results.

In the end, Wei Wuxian is only a little disappointed that they don’t manage to get an aphrodisiac song out of it.*

-

In the second year after his return, Yiling Patriarch Wei Wuxian developed the song Release, which has since been adapted for a wide range of therapeutic applications, including use in treatments for anxiety, depression, stress and trauma. 

With assistance from noted symphonimagus Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian deconstructed the then-established Requiem and, by applying its foundational magical principles in reverse, was able to create a song that, when played, encouraged the controlled expression of emotion under the player’s guidance. 

Unfortunately, his notes and experimental logs have since been lost.

-excerpt from the Annals of the Cloud Recesses

-

*

“LAN ZHAN, LOOK!” Wei Wuxian shrieks, running down the side of the hill towards him, waving a handful of leaves and flowers, “APHRODISIAC GRASS!”

[jaskierswolf]

The Howling of Wolves pt.1/3

Summary: After wintering with the witchers at Kaer Morhen, Geralt and Jaskier are back on the road. Only it appears someone has taken notice of Geralt's strange string of companions. Jaskier finds himself in trouble and it's up to the wolf pack to save him before it's too late.

TW for the whole story: Angst with happy ending, kidnapping, mentioned previous child abuse, mentioned torture (but off page), Major character injury and recovery, canon typical violence

Previous Stories - Shifter!Jask AU

Jaskier was bored. Geralt had gone out to hunt a werewolf and Jaskier hadn’t really felt like joining him. He found hunts for werewolves a little too close to home but he understood why Geralt was asked to hunt them. Werewolves were very rarely in control of themselves when they turned. They became overwhelmed with bloodlust and rage when they got too close to humans.

Still.

Jaskier couldn’t help but feel sorry for those he viewed as a sort of cousin. Geralt tried his best to cure the werewolves of their lycanthropy when they wanted it, and he would avoid killing them at all costs. Jaskier had been thrilled to learn this had been the case even before Geralt had met Jaskier.

Jaskier smiled soppily at the thought of his friend and lover as he adjusted the peg on his lute. One of the strings had snapped the night before whilst he’d been playing and left him with a rather nasty slice to his palm. Luckily he healed faster than your average human so the wound hadn’t bothered him all that much but changing his lute strings was always a fiddly inconvenience.

He sighed as he plucked the string, testing it against the others until he was satisfied that it was all tuned correctly. He strummed the strings one last time to check the intervals between the notes. The chord rang out in the small tavern room that he shared with Geralt. He smiled and then dampened the sound with the palm of his hand and put his lute away.

The good people of this settlement only knew Jaskier as the bard that travelled with Geralt. They hadn’t yet met Mister Fuzzball or Dandelion the dog so Jaskier had played a set before and after his dinner and then retired to his room after the string had snapped. He had hoped that Geralt would have returned at some point during the night but he’d woken up just as alone as he had the night before.

“Stupid witcher.” He grumbled to himself. “Should have left with Lambert or Eskel. Serves him right for taking too long.”

He sighed.

That wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t but it was easier to be grumpy at Geralt than to consider the fact that his partner had been injured whilst he wasn’t there to help.

That and he was lonely.

After a whole three months of being hauled up at Kaer Morhen with a whole pack of witchers and not a moment alone, he was finding the silence disturbing, and he missed the others.

At least he still had Geralt. The silver-haired witcher and love of his life didn’t appear to be getting sick of him yet which was, in itself, nothing short of a miracle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d anyone who’d stuck around for so long. Apart from maybe his nurse as a child, but then his parents had been paying Lila so did she really count?

He frowned.

Of course she counted. She’d been his only friend in that godforsaken castle. He was just being sad and dramatic.

“Right. Breakfast.” He muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Jask. Stop moping about.”

And maybe Geralt would be waiting for him downstairs.

That thought put a smile on his face so he pulled on his shimmering turquoise doublet and made a half-hearted attempted to do it up before heading downstairs. He took the steps two at a time, not caring that he was only setting himself up for disappointment. He had hope and he was clinging onto it like a dog with a bone, and he would know about that.

He’d never quite understood the bone cravings he had when he was a dog but like most things about his animal forms, he didn’t really question it.

He stopped, frozen solid, when he reached the bottom step and his eyes spotted a familiar figure in the corner.

Geralt.

With a coppery coloured ferret sat on the table in front of him. 

Jaskier gaped at the sight. That imposter didn’t even look anything like him!! Geralt was seemingly talking to the ferret and was so focussed on the creature that he didn’t notice Jaskier sneaking around the outside of the room until he could hear what his witcher was saying.

“Would you stop biting me?” Geralt rolled his eyes and poked the ferret on his head between the ears.

Jaskier. Was. Offended!

Yes the slithering bastard had blue eyes which was strange in normal ferrets but that didn’t look anything like his ferret form!

He snorted and crossed his arms.

The sound finally drew the attention of Geralt who stared at him with a furrowed brow and then looked back at the ferret on the table.

“You’re not Jaskier.” He said rather bluntly to the ferret. It chattered and bit Geralt’s hand, enough to draw blood.

“Shit.” Geralt cursed and pulled his hand away sharply before picking the creature up by the scruff of its neck and dumping it on the floor.

Jaskier tilted his head at his partner and smirked. “Hello Geralt.”

Geralt swore again and pressed his palm to his forehead. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier licked his lips and flicked his fringe from his eyes. At least Geralt had the decency to look ashamed of his mistake. “Making friends are we?” He let out a peal of laughter as the absurdity of the situation of the situation hit him.

“Shut up.” Geralt grumbled and stared unrelentingly at his drink.

Jaskier grinned and slid down onto the bench next to Geralt. He leant against the witcher and pulled the drink away from him.

“Get your own.” Geralt tried to pull it back and ale slopped over the edge of the tankard.

“Oi!” Jaskier shook his hands, droplets flying onto the table, then he grinned and smeared the ale down Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier!” Geralt growled.

Jaskier pouted and kissed Geralt’s cheek. “Yes, dearest?”

“Fuck off.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.” He mimicked his partner’s gruff voice and then patted the witcher on the shoulder. “You, sir, are just grumpy because I caught you talking to a ferret, which, I might add, looked nothing like me.”

“He was brown and had blue eyes. It looked exactly like you.” Geralt snapped.

Jaskier smirked and cupped his witcher’s face. “I’m sorry for laughing, love, but you have to admit it is amusing.”

Geralt’s frown softened and his leant into Jaskier’s touch. “Just don’t tell Lambert.” He mumbled.

Jaskier pressed his lips to Geralt’s forehead and grinned. “No promises!” He jumped and ran from the tavern before Geralt could catch him.

“Jaskier!” He heard Geralt’s shout from behind him.

He laughed gaily as he ran from the witcher. He wasn’t in any serious danger from Geralt, that would be ridiculous but Geralt was not above wrestling him to the ground and tickling him.

And he was fucking ticklish.

Of course, if he’d stayed put in then Geralt probably wouldn’t have acted. Around other people he still acted like the stoic witcher that everyone else seemed to think he was. Jaskier scoffed. Perhaps it was because of his animal side but Geralt had always been more than that to Jaskier. He’d been so desperate for the soft affection from the cat he’d met on the fence and allowed Jaskier to travel with him for weeks as a variety of animals. Geralt had been aching for companionship.

How anyone could think he was an unfeeling monster was beyond Jaskier, then again people would think he was a monster too if they knew what he really was.

There was a sharp pain in his neck and Jaskier reached up with his hand. HIs finger tips brushed against a feather. He pulled at the dart and peered at it carefully.

“Fuck.” He grumbled and tried to shift but he couldn’t. His magic was trapped. “Oh no, no no no.” He closed his eyes and tried harder but it was useless. He was useless and his muscles were getting heavier. “Geralt!” He called but his voice was weak already.

He stumbled and fell against a tree. It would be ok. Geralt would chase him, he always did. Even if Jaskier fell unconscious then he wouldn’t be taken. Geralt would make sure of it.

“Geralt…” He mumbled as his vision started to darken around the edges. He hugged the tree as he knees buckled. Whatever was in the dart was acting quickly, the effect it had on his magic was troubling. Whoever was attacking him knew.

“Bollocks.” He slurred as he fell to the ground.

_________

Geralt snarled at the human in front of him. No sooner had Jaskier taken off than Geralt had been cornered by a snivelling scholar who was begging him to take a contract. Geralt had tried to decline politely, or at very least postpone until he could get Jaskier back. He knew the shifter would be wondering where he was, he always followed Jaskier when he ran off like this. It was a sort of game, Jaskier liked to lure Geralt into the light especially when he was being moody and Geralt had a habit of forgetting how to enjoy himself.

He was getting better at that with Jaskier’s help.

“Please, witcher.” The man grabbed onto his hand.

Geralt pulled away with more force than necessary. “I said no. Now excuse me, I have to find my bard.”

To Geralt’s surprise the man laughed. “Oh you won’t find him.”

Geralt spun round and glared at the man who was no longer a snivelling mess. He’d straighten up and was now smiling a sinister grin that made Geralt’s blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He looked back at the door. “Fuck! Jaskier!” He ignored the man in favour for charging after his partner, but sure enough Jaskier was nowhere to be seen.

Geralt focused his senses to search for Jaskier’s footsteps running away from the tavern. Geralt pulled his sword from its scabbard and followed the light-footed prints in the dirt until something else drew his attention. There was a bright blue and green feather on the floor by the edge of the trees and he caught a whiff of Jaskier’s chamomile scent pressed against the bark. He sniffed again to be sure. He could almost see Jaskier’s form pressed up against the tree, on the floor were scuff marks around the feather. Something, or someone, had been dragged. The feather had almost been buried in the dirt.

Geralt reached down to pick it up, the tip was glistening and had been coated in some kind of poison.

“Fuck.” Geralt said again. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Geralt asked Jaskier as if he were still here. “Unless the poison stopped you from shifting…” He considered, “but no one else knows.”

“That’s where you’re wrong witcher.” The man from before laughed and Geralt saw red.

He had the man pressed against the tree and his sword to his throat before the man could even blink. “What have you done with him?” Geralt growled. “I swear to all the gods, if you’ve hurt him.”

“Not I.”

Geralt pushed the blade harder against the man’s neck until a bead of blood oozed under the edge of his sword. “I would be very careful about your next words.”

“Your bard got careless, witcher.” The man mumbled. He didn’t even smell of fear which was not a good sign.

Geralt stayed silent and narrowed his eyes at the man.

“We’ve been trying to find him for years but there wasn’t a trace. Changing his name was clever, but recently there’s been reports of a witcher that sometimes travels with a cat, sometimes with a dog that can turn into a wolf, mutant witcher dogs?” The man scoffed. “Does anyone actually buy that shit?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Geralt growled.

“And sometimes you travel with a bard.” The man finished with a serene smile. “Young Julian always did love poetry and music.”

Geralt scowled. “Julian?”

The man laughed. “He never told you his true name? Oh and I thought he cared.”

Geralt snapped. His blade slashed and blood splattered and the man crumpled to the ground.

“Fuck!” 

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