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smidgen-of-hotboy · 7 months ago

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Jay's Thoughts: Extended Cut

Every time you use the phrase “way down” a part of me gets so excited

OH OH OH- okokok. Nyx i think was the one to point it out in your post yesterday with the sneak peek, smth about Eurydice dying in some versions because she was bit by a rattlesnake and drawing the parallels of that to the feeling in Juno’s stomach and yeahhhhhhh. YEAHHHHHHHH- kisses kisses kisses ya’ll are so smart Also the mental image you’ve created in my head of juno walking “shirt soaked through with sweat”- like, he’s miserable buttttt…. Also… beating myself back so i don’t say something i later regret

THE RUSH I’M GETTING RN IS THE SAME AS THE RUSH I GOT LISTENING TO THE CLEAN BREAK PART 2 FOR THE FIRST TIME OOOOUUUGHGHGGHHGHGH- THIS COULD ONLY BE MADE BETTER IF JUNO MENTIONED THE SMELL

“...and a wall around his heart. [stopSTOPPPP-] His overalls were covered in muc and brick dust, [lack of care for his appearance which is very important usually to Nureyev] his glasses were broken, and his eyes looked hollow and weary. [MY HEART!!] But, gods, he might as well have had a gilded halo around his head for the way Juno wanted to fall down at his feet weeping and praying.” [IDOLISM SPOTTED!! DEIFICATION SPOTTED!! ANGEL NUREYEV SPOTTED!! MUSE! WORSHIP! RELIGIOUS IMAGERY! GAHHH- this has everything in it that I want and love and its only the beginning….]

“Blesses Saint Peter of the Workers.” OH WE DOING THIS HUH ZEPH??!! OKAY! OKAY THEN- Saint Peter is an actual Saint, he holds the keys to the gates of heaven and is referenced in the song “Sixteen Tons”. A different Saint Peter is accounted as “the wonderworker” for his acts of wonder working in 920 (organizing famine relief and ransom for captives and treating the ill). The Wonderworker was called a Thaumaturgy, someone who performs miracles (which, actually fits the narrative Kabert have built for Nureyev and the Dokana group…)

Oh boy, nothing can go wrong now that Juno has found him! I STAND CORRECTED HE ISN’T RESPONDING TO HIS NAME! AAAAAGGGGHHHHH-

OH THE RATTLESNAKE IS STILL HERE

“Nothing. Just that steady Hadestown rhythm of breathe, strike, lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.” So even Juno can hear it…

“He wasn’t alive now. The poorly sutured gash in his neck was evidence enough of that.” I’m crying. I’m actually crying. I’m coming down from my high writing that Angel of Brahma thing and now this and I’m crying.

“Juno was nearly crying now [NO SHIT JUNO HERE I GOT YOU BABE, I GOT YOU BABY GIRL, I’LL CRY ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US], scared and desperate, the world going blurry through the tears stuck in his lashes. The rattlesnake hidden in his stomach was letting out another steady hiss, it’s teeth bared in warning once more.” [Rattlesnakes hissing and rattling their tail is indeed a warning sign. This is all a big red flag Juno. You gotta run while you can.]

“I’m here to take you home.” THIS ISN’T FUCKING FAIR-

“And then something strangely extraordinary happened. Peter blinked. And it was like a miracle.” NOT FUCKING FAIR- Buddy is rioting back home. She is pissed, beyond pissed, and IT’S NOT FAIR! NONE OF IT IS FUCKING FAIR!! AGGG- I got something good to share after this, something real good.

“And a grin more blinding than the sun snuck on to his face, chasing away the despair and melancholy.” I feel like there’s a line you wrote before that is similar to this… I might just be thinking though of how you describe Juno’s singing and his song.

“He looked at Juno, wonder and surprise and love in his eyes, and mouthed a single word. Juno!” OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- I’m dry heaving this is too fucking sweet.

Describing hugs and embraces will never not strike me in the gut. So precious, sacred, vulnerable… THE SMELL! Or at least it’s A Smell. Either way I called it I’m complete. And the fact that Juno felt whole again with Nureyev. Like- he was halved when he lost Ben. He was so lost and desperate and lonely, and losing Nureyev reopened that wound, but now that he has Nureyev back in his arms (no matter how temporary) he feels whole again. Speaking levels.

Zeph I am raising my hand in the air for a big ass high five, low five, mid five- all the hand slaps right now. I LOVE getting to incorporate sign language into my writing, it’s a lot of fun. In some of my earlier attempts, I wrote American Sign up as if it were Glossed, and now a couple of years later I’ve turned to treating it like spoken dialogue. It is a very real experience for someone who is not a native signer to have to switch my brain from English to Sign and struggle to do so so quickly. I am very used to asking people to SIGN SLOW PLEASE LEARNING Makes me curious though why Juno knows sign…

Juno hastily explaining “Jet’s a psychopomp whatever that means” = Juno explaining what the fuck the Ruby7 is

“And then when I got to the wall… I just. I sang.” Something something- original mythos, Orpheus sang to Cerberus and subdued the dog with his sad song. He sang to Charon and got free passage across the Styx because he was that sad. This imagery though is reminding me of that one Adventure Time episode where Magic Man steals Finn, Jake, Princess Bubblegum, BMO, and Marceline’s stuff. And the only way to get it back is to sing a true song from the heart.

This Juno is very close to S2 Canon Juno. Destructive and hasn’t learned his lesson yet. And now he sort of is but… not really… He called your name before he went. Guess you didn’t hear it….

“Soft like a magnolia petal in early spring with the kind of tenderness and care that only a very deep-rooted love can produce.” MAGNOLIA PETAL??? Language of flowers meaning NOBILITY… hmmm… Rex Glass alias is King Glass… Slip Jackson is King of Hadestown… hmmm….

“growing through the cracks of Nureyev’s walls” LIKE TEH WALLS TO HADESTOWN OOUGGGHH!

And Juno babe- love the optimism. Love the “My name is Juno Steel, and I always get my man” type attitude you’ve brought with you, but that won’t work! Try Again! :D

“You’re not from around here, are you?” OH NO OH SHIT RUN JUNO STEEL, RUN!!

Anndddd Nureyev’s blue screened, he’s hit flight or fight and he chose FREEZE!

“And who the hell are you?” he sounds like a literal child in my head rn lol

“An old friend of Petyas’. [OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT ITS THE SLIPPY BOY-] And the man who owns this city. You can call me Slip. You’d best be going, though. This city doesn’t take kindly to strays.” [OHHHHH!!]

Juno Steel, “I always get my man” = Juno Steel, “I’m not leaving without him”

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” I can hear how fucking smug he is rn

“a sick feeling beginning to snake back into his gut. ‘Tell me what, Peter?’” FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK ABORT- ABORTT!! RUN NUREYE!!!!

“I told you I own this city, and that includes the people in it. My darling Petya [OH OH OH THIS MAKES ME WANNA BITE HIM, HIT HIM, FIGHT HIM- NO ONE OWNS PETER NUREYEV- NO ONE!!! Smth smth “everyone who’s called me Pete wants to be my parent”] I was initially going to keep him from having to work out here, but since he decided he would rather keep company with my workers than me, [yeahhhh- i wonder why.] I decided to let him do some of the work himself,’ Slip shrugged, walking forward and resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.” [the jarring gap between Slip calling him Petya, calling him My Darling Petya, and Juno still thinking of him as Peter… it’s fucking with my head in the best way.]

“It isn’t true… it can’t be true. Tell me it isn’t true.” my brain says this is a reference to “Is it True?” and i’m getting sense of a rebellion? Of the workers turning on Slip and demanding that he give Peter and Juno a chance? Hmmmm? I have hope. I believe.

“Executives? Would you mind showing this young man here what we do with trespassers?” OH FUCK- not even a “young lady” but a “young man” OH FUCK- Slip’s boutta catch some hands“Suddenly, two large, identical men dressed in brown coats appeared behind Juno. Before he could say a word or move in defense, there was movement, a sharp pain radiating through his skull, and then Juno Steel knew no more.” Huh. huh. HUH! HUH?! WHAT?! He can’t be dead- he can’t be! …right? Mmm- S1 reference on the horizon maybe? Reference to Juno being thrown in Miasma’s tomb? OR SEASON 4 REFERENCE TO PALOMINE CORRECTIONS??? HMMM!!! I’m excited for whatever is to come :)

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 13

this took. a while!! life has been busy recently lol. i feel it is important to note that this part 13 also cashed in at 1,666 words. this was not intentional, but uh. definitely has got some evil undertones.

reading some of the stuff peter says might get a lil confusing- just remember he is signing all of this!! i didn't want to write the word "signed" three million times and sign language is literally a language, just not a spoken one, so i used "said" instead

I SUMMON THEE TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

Way down deep in the pit of Juno’s stomach, a scaly rattlesnake of dread curled up and bared its fangs.

His muscles ached and his shirt was soaked through with sweat, and every few steps came with a cough from the horrible, black-dust air. He’d been searching the walls for hours now, looking for any sign of the tall, knife-thin figure that had sliced his world in half from the moment he walked into it.

He’d seen a lot of workers. It took a lot of effort for him to not cringe at the sight of them. A hundred thousand faces, laying brick and chipping away at stone, each one looking as bone-tired and hopeless as the next. Some even looked vaguely familiar, distorted into someone he recognized through the dream-like haze in the air. But he hadn’t found anything of Peter Nureyev yet.

The rattlesnake shivered out a tense hiss. He was beginning to question everything. Had Rita remembered what had happened correctly? Maybe he’d missed him somewhere? Was Peter even here?

And suddenly all of Juno’s fear melted away.

There he was. A lone figure against the harsh lava glow of the factories behind him.

Just like he had the first time, he looked tired and disheveled, dirt on his face and a wall around his heart. His overalls were covered in mud and brick dust, his glasses were broken, and his eyes looked hollow and weary. But, gods, he might as well have had a gilded halo around his head for the way Juno wanted to fall down at his feet weeping and praying.

Blessed Saint Peter of the Workers.

Juno broke into a sprint.

“Nureyev?! Nureyev!!”

There was no answer. Peter just kept hacking away at the rock with his pickaxe, head bowed to the ground.

Juno scrambled up the rickety wooden ramp to the top of the wall as the rattlesnake slithered back into his gut. Peter barely noticed him. “Nureyev. Nureyev, please. Peter, please look at me!”

Nothing. Just that steady Hadestown rhythm of breathe, strike, lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

Juno grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. Peter’s eyes were completely empty, like the work here had sucked every last ounce of life out of him. Flashes of memory sped by in Juno’s mind.

Peter laughing. Peter working out logic problems with Buddy. Peter telling stories with Rita. Peter fixing up the bar with Jet. Peter looking at him in wonder. Peter being alive.

He wasn’t alive now. The poorly sutured gash in his neck was evidence enough of that.

Juno was nearly crying now, scared and desperate, the world going blurry through the tears stuck in his lashes. The rattlesnake hidden in his stomach was letting out another steady hiss, it’s teeth bared in warning once more.

“Peter, please, you gotta remember me,” Juno whispered, pulling Peter’s head down to his. “I’m here to take you home.”

And then something strangely extraordinary happened.

Peter blinked. And it was like a miracle.

The hollowness cleared from his eyes in an instant. He squinted slightly through the dim light and broken glasses, and then recognition sparked in his eyes, and a grin more blinding than the sun snuck onto his face, chasing away the despair and melancholy. He looked at Juno, wonder and surprise and love in his eyes, and mouthed a single word.

Juno!

And then they were in each other's arms, holding each other like it was the only thing in the world that existed. Juno realized he was fully crying now, and Peter was crying too. His fist was clenched in Peter’s shirt that smelled like coal dust and sweat and fear but he didn’t care. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were here now, and they were holding each other, and he felt whole again. And it was like the world released a breath it barely knew it was holding back.

They stayed like that for a long time, crying and hugging and gently rocking back and forth, until both of them could breathe normally, like the sheer fact of the other’s presence could fix every problem they had ever known.

Juno pulled away from the hug first and kissed Peter hard. “You absolute DUMBASS. What the hell were you thinking, Nureyev? Getting yourself tangled up in the underworld?”

Peter made a slightly sour face and began signing something at Juno, too fast for him to understand.

“Wait, wait, wait. Slow down a minute. It’s been a while since I had to interpret sign, babe. You’re gonna have to sign slower than that.”

Peter sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, but planted a sweet kiss on Juno’s cheek before signing again, slower this time.

"How the hell did you get down here?"

“Jet led me. Apparently he used to work for Hadestown as a psychopomp or something. He wouldn’t go into it too much, though.”

"No, no, no," Peter said, snapping his fingers closed in slight frustration. "How did you get past the wall? No one gets in unless they come by train."

“Ah. Well, that’s interesting. There’s a backroad that I went down. And then when I got to the wall… I just. I sang. I asked it to let me in, said I needed to find you, and the stones just moved aside. I don’t know how.”

There was a pause. Peter was chewing on his lip now, looking at Juno with some emotion akin to reproach on his face. “What’s the matter, babe?”

"I called your name before I… left. And you never came for me."

Juno sucked in a pained breath through his teeth and looked at the rough-hewn ground. “You…. you did. I know.”

Peter’s expression was rapidly approaching one that looked like it might burst into tears. "You knew? You heard me?"

“No, I didn’t know. Rita saw all of it. She…. she told me the story.” Juno sighed deeply, ran his hands over his face, and squatted down to the ground. “I’m so sorry, Nureyev. All of this is my fault. I should have been paying more attention to you, because you told me that you were hungry and I thought it would be fine, I just didn’t listen, and if I had listened, you wouldn’t be in this mess-”

Juno broke off as he felt Peter’s fingers under his chin, forcing him to look up.

"Listen to me. This is not your fault," he said gently before giving Juno another kiss. His face had such a soft expression on it, soft like a magnolia petal in early spring with the kind of tenderness and care that only a very deep-rooted love can produce.

Juno looked at that softness growing through the cracks of Nureyev’s walls and found himself falling in love with him all over again.

“It’s okay, though. I can fix this. I came to bring you home again. I can just sing the song again and the stones will let us back out- what’s the matter?”

Peter had begun shaking his head slowly. "Won’t work," he said, jaw clenched tight and face painted with varying shades of regret.

“What do you mean, it won’t work? It’ll work, I promise, Peter, I can get us out of-”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

A booming voice echoed across the wall in response, and Juno watched Nureyev go completely still, eyes wide and face stark white with fear and panic. Juno wasn’t sure who the man in the neat suit walking towards them was, but Peter’s reaction to his voice was enough to set Juno on edge in his defense.

He stood, back straight and eyes narrowed with as much confidence and menace as he could manage. “And who the hell are you?”

The man grinned, and something about his smile made Juno want to punch him. “An old friend of Petya’s. And the man who owns this city. You can call me Slip. You’d best be going, though. This city doesn’t take kindly to strays.”

Juno didn’t move a muscle. The man stared at him, eyes cold and clean and razor sharp.

“I said, you need to leave this city. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without him.”

Nureyev stood then and turned to face the man, Slip, with a tension Juno had never seen in him before, and began shooting angry words in his direction. His hands were moving too fast for Juno to catch anything more than a few words: “alone,” “deal,” “my voice,” “take,” and “let him go”. Slip’s grin only widened.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” he asked, leaning slightly to see Juno’s face.

Juno looked at Peter, a sick feeling beginning to snake back into his gut. “Tell me what, Peter?”

Peter looked at him painfully before staring wide-eyed at the ground and chewing on his lip.

The rattlesnake buzzed out a tremor of fear. “Peter, what did you do?”

“I told you I own this city, and that includes the people in it. My darling Petya here signed a contract for a job, and now he belongs to me. I was initially going to keep him from having to work out here, but since he decided he would rather keep company with my workers than me, I decided to let him do some of the work himself,” Slip shrugged, walking forward and resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

It was like the world was collapsing in on itself.

“It isn’t true,” Juno breathed, eyes widening. “It can’t be true. Tell me it isn’t true.”

Peter wouldn’t meet his eyes. He simply nodded and said nothing else.

The rattlesnake’s hiss crescendoed. Juno felt like he might throw up.

“Executives? Would you mind showing this young man here what we do with trespassers?” Slip called.

Suddenly, two large, identical men dressed in brown coats appeared behind Juno. Before he could say a word or move in defense, there was movement, a sharp pain radiating through his skull, and then Juno Steel knew no more.

#love YOU MOREEEE!!#tpp hadestown au #song for a caged lovebird #private eye's keys go jingle jangle #talking about their writing

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moonlit-reveriee · 3 years ago

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Baby Blue

technoblade x fem!reader

concept: techno is scared of ‘corrupting’ the reader, but the reader’s kinda into it...

content warning // NSFW, virgin!reader, very minor angst?, small argument that gets resolved

listen to this while you read: BBBlue (Single) by Olivver the Kid

(this fic was heavily inspired by the lyrics of this song, so i highly recommended giving it a listen!)

───※ ·❆· ※───

When Techno found out you were a virgin, he was terrified. Not necessarily of the thought itself, but of the implications.

He’d never forget the look on your face when you told him. You tried to be casual about it, but he knew you well enough to spot the dusting of pink across your cheeks. You nuzzled yourself closer into his side. Whether out of embarrassment or something else entirely, he couldn’t tell. All he could feel was his heart dropping as the voices chanted at him to “ruin her”

Of course you, his pure sweet angel, would be a virgin. He once again crumbled under the idea that you had chosen him. How on earth could a person like you even think of being with a beast like him. Yet alone, giving up your virginity to him.

He hated how horribly turned on he was by the thought of taking it.

The voices had been relentless about it ever since. They were hyper focused on your every move, twisting every thought of his into something promiscuous. When you rolled out of bed in the morning and stretched, a small sigh escaping your lips, it was endless cries of “make her do that again” “you should fuck those moans out of her” “make her scream”

While making breakfast together in the morning, they wouldn’t stop telling him to “bend her over the counter” “take it right here”

Even at times where he was alone, the voices preoccupied him with endless thoughts of you. He was fairly certain they had forced him to imagine every possible way in which he could have you. “imagine fucking her against the wall” “you can be gentle for the first time y’know” “she’d feel so good writhing underneath us” “press her face into the mattress instead” “make her get on her knees and suck you off” “she’ll be such a pretty little slut for us”

He tried to take care of himself as often as he could, but it was becoming impossible to keep up with. There were only so many times a day he could jerk himself off alone behind locked doors. He was desperate, and sexually frustrated to say the least.

He felt disgusting for it.

After a week of this torment, he could barely even look at you yet alone touch you without the voices and his own guilt pounding against his skull. You couldn’t even think about broaching the subject again, because he was avoiding physical contact like the plague. He wouldn’t come to bed until he knew you were asleep, and would leave long before you woke.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was tired. Something was wrong, but you knew that he’d never just tell you about his problems unprompted. Techno was insufferably stubborn in that way. After several days of avoiding your gaze and leaning away from your touch, you chose to confront him.

“Techno”, you called for his attention quietly, trying to sound stern while remaining gentle with him. He didn’t turn to fully face you, but he glanced at the spot on the wall just above your head.

You struggled to find the words you wanted to say, so you settled on telling him, “Techno, you look tired.”

He turned his attention away from you. “Just a lot of work around the house this week. I’ll be fine after I rest.”

“Then come to bed with me.” You saw the way his body tensed and tilted away from you at that simple suggestion.

“I just need to write a couple letters first. You can go ahead of me.”

“Techno...”, you whined, daring to take a step closer to him. He gave you an almost panicked look, “why does it feel like you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you”, he responded quickly, trying to look through you instead of at you.

“Yes you have”, you responded firmly. A flash of guilt washed over his face at your tone. “You haven’t kissed or touched me for nearly a week now. I don’t even know for sure if you sleep in the same bed as me anymore. Fuck, you barely even talk to me.”

Angry tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you wanted to hold them in. Techno felt his chest tighten at the sight of it. He instinctively turned and reached out to comfort you, but forced himself to freeze.

“There”, you said, gesturing towards him, “just like that. You’re stopping yourself. Why are you doing that?”

He repeatedly opened and closed his fists at his side, wanting to have any conversation other than this one.

“[y/n], there’s just a lot going on in my mind right now”, he said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “I just need to work though it.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No”, he responded a little too quickly, “I- I mean, I just don’t want to talk about it with you yet...”

“Why not?”, you retorted, trying to squeeze any information you could out of him.

“I just don’t, okay? It’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

“... is this about me being a virgin?”

“I never said that”, he replied, but the tension in his shoulders was enough to tip you off.

“Ah geez Technoblade, if it was that much of a problem for ya, you should have just told me”, you said sarcastically, “instead of avoiding all physical contact for a like week straight!”

“It’s not a problem, [y/n].”

“Certainly doesn’t feel that way.”

Techno huffed in frustration, grabbing a fistful of his hair at the root. He wasn’t sure if he was more upset with himself, or the fact that a few of the voices were still begging him to “please fuck her already”

“Love, I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want it. They”, he tapped a finger against the side of his skull, “they want it so badly. It’s driving me insane.”

He breathed in and out shakily, trying to gauge your expression in the brief moments before he continued.

“I’m a monster. I’ve spilt more blood than anyone every should in a single lifetime. My appearance is more beast than man.”

He looked up briefly to find you staring right at him, a tight-lipped frown upon your face.

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“I- ... I don’t want to corrupt your innocence”, he admitted.

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“[y/n], you’re so perfect”, he answered almost breathlessly, “you’re so kind and so pure. Just living with me does enough to taint your reputation, I don’t wanna-“

He cut himself off to swallow thickly. He almost seemed scared of the words he was going to say next.

“I don’t want to ruin this part of you either...”

A heavy silence filled the tiny sitting room of techno’s cottage. In those few seconds, your eyes widened ever so slightly as his words suddenly clicked in your mind. This hulking boar of a man, an undisputed war criminal, was scared. He was scared of damaging you, your reputation, or your recently revealed ‘innocence’. Compared to himself, he saw you as a pure being who could be tainted by unwholesome thoughts.

If what he said about the voices was true, then his actions of the past few days would’ve made sense for him.

“Oh techno...”, you muttered softly, tentatively placing a hand on his jaw. His posture was curled inward, making him look small despite his size. He was stiff at first, but allowed you to lift his gaze to meet yours. He searched your eyes desperately for an indication of your reaction. You gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember when we first met?”

A small wave of confusion washed over his face, but he nodded anyways. “It was at the festival...”

“That’s right”, you said, moving the hand on his face down to rest over his shoulder, “and do you remember what I did that day?”

“You threw an axe into Schlatt’s shoulder”, he answered, watching as the scene played out in his memory.

You lived with Niki in her bakery at the time, and witnessed firsthand the injustice she faced during Schlatt’s presidency. As the chaos after Tubbo’s execution occurred, you took the opportunity to hurl your axe where Schlatt stood upon his podium. The blow wasn’t fatal, but that wasn’t necessarily your goal. You just wanted to see the man in pain.

“It was a lucky shot really”, you admitted, “I wasn’t even aiming properly.” That managed to draw a small smile onto Techno’s lips.

“And do you remember”, you continued, “when I tried to confront the Butcher Army by myself?”

He grimaced at the thought. You had told him you just needed to make a quick trip to L’manburg for some supplies, leaving him at home alone to recover from the previous day’s events. You returned that evening with a sprained wrist and a couple large bruises forming on your body. None of them were trying to kill you, but you took a pretty good beating from Quackity just for trying to confront them.

“Why are you bringing all of this up now?”, he asked.

“Because”, you said, “this is the evidence that will support my next point.”

He looked bewildered by that statement, but continued to listen.

“I’m not a perfect person”, you resumed, “I have blood on my hands just like you do. I know it’s hard to compare to you, but I’m not devoid of my own sins. I can be mean, I’ve hurt people. I’m not a pure, angelic being who would quiver at a single inappropriate thought. I think you forget that sometimes.”

He let your words swirl around in his head; he couldn’t deny the logic in them. The evidence prevented him from denying the truth of your statement. He could almost be mad that you’d talked him into a corner, but he was more overjoyed at the fact that you knew him well enough to do so.

“And you know...”, you spoke quietly, letting your hand fall down to rest on his chest, “if you did somehow ‘corrupt my innocence’ as you say... I really wouldn’t mind that.”

Techno’s breath hitched in his throat. There were a brief few moments, maybe minutes, where he just stared at you. Then his lips were on yours; sudden and clumsy, but passionate. You gripped the fabric of his shirt as he grabbed at your waist, desperate to have you in his arms again.

“I’m sorry, I had to”, he muttered, his lips left hovering a hair’s breadth away from yours.

“You’re so silly sometimes”, you sighed affectionately, rubbing small circles into his collarbone. He gave you a gentle smirk before pressing another kiss into your lips.

“I’m sorry darling, I really am”, he said as he drew you into a tight hug. He took in your scent and the feel of your skin for the first time in days. It felt like he could survive off the feeling of your arms wrapped around his body alone. He wondered why he ever let himself be depraved of this.

“You know I trust you, right?”, you spoke with your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not sure why, but yes.”

You decided not to reprimand him for saying that. You could help him unpack all that later. Instead, you brought your head up to whisper in his ear.

“You have my full and unconditional consent to take my virginity whenever you’re ready.”

Techno inhaled and held his breath, though for what, he wasn’t sure. It took a while for the full weight of those words to sink in. He leaned back to stare at your face, bringing one of his large and shaky hands up to cup your cheek.

“Are you sure?”, his eyes were wide with trepidation, practically pleading with you to tell him the truth. You leaned into his palm, indulging in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“I want you, techno. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Techno was lost in your words. The sudden absence of guilt left his heart light and airy in his chest. For the first time in days, the voices were only a gentle murmur.

“she’s so beautiful” “she wants you” “make her feel good” “show her how special she is” “make her smile” “she’ll be so pretty” “she’s always pretty” “be gentle, no need to rush”

“make love to her”

“... I think I’m ready now.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

ayyyy guess who finally finished writing something!!!

parts of this feel a little rushed but ehhhhhh i was just excited to finally post it. i looove writing techno as an extremely self-conscious character who’s too caught up in their own head to see how ridiculous they’re being. so, this was a treat for me to write

i hope you enjoyed :D

-moonlight

#c!techno #red:moon #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt smut #techno smut

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dessarious · 4 years ago

Text

The Angel of Death Pt37

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

“I would like to formally request that you train me to fight.” Tris looked up in confusion to find Kagami standing in her doorway. The girl seemed serious and she didn’t usually make jokes; it was one of the reasons Tris actually liked her. At the same time, it didn’t really make sense.

“You’re being trained in fencing and two forms of martial arts. I’m sure your skill is already adequate.” Kagami’s hand twitched slightly towards her neck and Tris realized what brought this on. They’d been attacked, almost two weeks ago, and Kagami hadn’t been able to put up much of a fight. “You were caught off guard, training how to fight and reacting to real life situations can be very different things.” The girl just scowled at her.

“You were caught off guard as well yet while I was useless and couldn’t even defend myself you knocked out both attackers and saved me.” Tris sighed as she tried to come up with an explanation that wasn’t the truth. Partially because it would be safer for Kagami if she didn’t know but also because she didn’t want another person here acting like she was a bomb ready to go off. Adrien and Chloe both tried to hide it but ever since Brazil they’d been treating her differently. Whenever The Angel of Death was mentioned in the news they’d be whispering in corners and walking on eggshells for days after and this had been going on for close to four months now. Tris didn’t want to admit it, but it was driving her insane. She now had an almost constant urge to sneak up behind one or both of them and shout ‘Boo!” and she had no idea where the impulse was coming from.

“You know how I told you that Chloe used to bully me?” Kagami nodded and Tris decided half truths were her best option. “Well there were a lot of people that used to bully me, and many of them were a lot more physical. I learned to fight by being attacked and I learned to survive by being able to find and utilize my opponents weaknesses quickly. It’s not about being well trained or knowing the proper forms. It’s about seeing an opening and taking it no matter what it is and no matter what you have to do.” That was true enough. In the league Talia had believed in a trial by fire method of training for her. Just like that first fight with Damian she’d always just been thrown into situations and forced to react.

“That does not seem… fair.” Tris actually snorted with derision and Kagami eyed her warily. “I just mean that it doesn’t seem very sporting.”

“There are no rules in real life. All that matters is doing what it takes to survive. Honor is meaningless to the dead.” Kagami just stood there frowning at the floor and Tris waited for another lecture. She didn’t get one.

“Then I want you to teach me that.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That was how they ended up in the lobby of the Grand Paris the next weekend. Tris was trying to teach Kagami how to spot physical infirmities and weaknesses to exploit by pointing out different gaits or even the way a person held themselves. Luka, Adrien, and Chloe had all decided to tag along but she wasn’t sure why. When she asked they just said the two of them shouldn’t be left alone together.

Tris was in the middle of pointing out a gentleman who had obviously suffered a recent back sprain when the boy next to him drew her attention. The smug, superior way he held himself, the walk that said ‘get out of my way or I’ll go through you’, the way he seemed to look down on everyone and everything around him… she knew that pose. She knew that boy. Before she was even aware of her intentions she was stalking over to the duo as the others called after her. As she got closer he turned to look at her with that same haughty expression and she felt rage consume her. His expression showed recognition and shock for only a moment before her fist made contact with his nose. Her knee went to his stomach a moment later and he was on the floor.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” She only vaguely realized she was screaming at him in Arabic, too consumed by fear, anger, and pain to process much else. She watched as Damian rose from the floor and glared at her.

“I was.” That was it. Tris felt the sneer on her face but didn’t have time to wonder at the uncharacteristic reaction.

“I should have known you’d follow in your grandfather’s footsteps. I’ll only say this once so I suggest you listen. If you, your mother, or any of the degenerates who still follow you try to come after me they will be finding pieces of you for decades. And don’t think for a second that you know me or my skills well enough to stop me.” His expression flashed to annoyance for just a moment but it was enough for her to prepare. When his hand shot out to grab her neck he only caught air as she stepped in to trip him. She had to fight down a smug smile at his obvious confusion when she pinned him to the floor. “I know your fighting style better than you do al Ghul. Consider this a warning.”

“M. Wayne I am so sorry! Chloe get this hoodlum out of here!” Tris was finally brought back to her surroundings by the Mayor’s voice. Shit. What had she just done? Damian hadn’t even seen her, let alone figured out who she was, what the hell had possessed her to out herself like this? When she released him, Damian just got up and dusted himself off.

“It’s fine Sir. We’re old friends, though I’m sure it was a strange greeting to witness.” Damian never took his eyes off her as he spoke and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him. The boy was still bleeding from her first punch and he expected that to explain things.

“Oh well… if that’s all then… are you sure you don’t want me to at least call the Police to file a report?” The man he was with must be extremely wealthy for the Mayor to be falling over himself like this. What had he called him.. Wayne? She finally looked at the man’s face and realized exactly how screwed she was. How could Talia possibly have formed an alliance with the owner of Wayne Enterprises? With those resources at her disposal there was no telling what she was capable of.

“Everything is perfectly alright Mayor. My son is simply a little rambunctious; it’s nice to see someone who can take him down a peg or two.” Son? Only her luck could possibly be this bad. He switched to Arabic to address her. “I’d very much like to continue this discussion. Perhaps in private?”

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

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@kceedraws @theatreandcomicfreak @krispydefendorpolice @magic-miraculous @chocolatecatstheron @mooshoon @northernbluetongue @interobanginyourmom @rebecarojas07 @dast218 @abrx2002 @damianette-is-life @yin-390 @fontegagrilledcheese @bigpicklebananatree @tbehartoo @nobodyw8s4evr @linim2503 @ladybug-182 @marinettepotterandplagg @daminett4life @thethirdwheelfriend @corabeth11 @emotionalsupportginger @shizukiryuu @toodaloo-kangaroo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @sassakitty @my-name-is-michell @multplelifes @sassydepression @danielslilangel @winter-gardenflower @animegirlweeb @romanoff-queen @nanakeid @paradoxal-occurance @theg0ddesspersephone @hinata3487 @irontimetravelflower @the-real-gingakid @heaven428 @peachedpocky @justafanwarrior @gentlemanoftimetravel @18-fandoms-unite-08 @kittycatwowmeow @pale-lady-dreamer @i-is-mysterious @captainartsypants @write-for-your-life2 @queengeorgiaaa @schrodingers25 @thecaptainthunder @elspethshadow @stela-likes-drawing @loysydark @lozzybowe @renscorpio @elmokingkong @the-fusionist @tis-i-beanbandit @smolplantmum @iwantwhirlledpeasandlotsatrees @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @chocolateherringtacofan @how-to-fuction-properly

#maribat #assassin mari #kidnapped au #marinette dupain cheng #Damian Wayne #kagami tsuguri

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Note

Omg I just reread the hunter fic you wrote for me and I'm still screaming - I so fucking love it!!!! You're totally awesome babe! So, I was wondering - only if it isn't to much - if you would be willing to write a part two?💕

Of course! I hope you like this as much as the first!💛💛💛 thank you for requesting! ❤❤ (I'm so sorry this is so late!)

Goddamn Hunters. (Part Two.)

David (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: blood imagery, graphic violence

Masterlist.

Part One.

The journey back to David's home is mostly silent, the only sound being a brief squeak from me when I realise that we are no longer on the ground, my hands clutching tighter at the comfortable fabric of his overcoat, my face burying into his chest, inhaling his somehow familiar scent. In my ears, the rushing wind is unbelievably loud, though the sensation of it against any exposed skin is not as biting as I thought it would be, possibly due to the frigidity of my body beneath my torn clothes. I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look at the ground far below us as he continues to move, his arms adjusting themselves securely around my trembling frame, the sensation making me feel safer, despite me not knowing this...person at all.

After what feels like hours, he touches down again, a roaring, crashing sound making itself known to me, as well as a pungent salty reek laced with a woody odour, all of which mix with the confusion already fogging up the inside of my head, my fatigue finally becoming noticeable to me. Yawning, I instinctively cuddle closer to David, my body reacting before my brain does, a deep blush rising to my cheeks as he looks down at me, blue eyes widening a little with surprise before they fill with some other emotion, something akin to pride. I don't quite register as he carries me somewhere dimly lit, whining quietly when he finally places me down somewhere, the noise a reflex I didn't know I had, though I am glad that the surface below me is soft and comfortable. Halting, the platinum blonde seems to think something through, eyeing my limp, tired form on what I can only assume is a bed, his hand absentmindedly reaching up to stroke back my hair, frowning a bit at my bloodied state. He jerks away suddenly when a voice speaks up from behind him, the words incoherent to me as I drift to sleep, aching and painful after my ordeal, only just catching the end of what David responds with.

"...mate."

For the first time in days, I sleep peacefully, none of the harrowing nightmares I've had previously assaulting my conscience, though the biting hunger at the back of my throat remains a constant, the blood on my clothes not helping at all. Thankully, the day passes quickly, my eyes opening just as the last rays of sunlight leave the surroundings, the bed I'm sleeping in blocked off from the outside light by black-out curtains, which is helpful, seeing as I learnt the hard way that the bright light hurts like hell. Hesitantly, I climb off the bed/nest thing and examine the room I'm in, surprised to find myself in a cave of sorts, the spacious expanse littered with debris and random objects, a few of them gathered around a decrepit fountain in the centre, near which there are sofas and a wheelchair, a faint layer of dust collecting on almost every surface. Confused, I step further into the room, moving to the fountain, where I trail a finger over the filthy surface, a greyish film coating the digit as I pull it away, my nose somehow picking up the musky scent emanating from it with ease. In addition to this, I can also smell four distinct odours, one of which I already recognise: David, the unmistakable smell inciting an odd longing feeling within me, my body aching to be with my mysterious saviour again.

In my confusion, I fail to notice that a tall figure has appeared in the hallway behind me, their eyes glowing yellow as they catch sight of me, a low growl escaping them, before I'm pinned to the fountain by them, strong hands holding me to the marble surface in a painful position. I yelp, struggling in their hold, my own strength dwindling due to my hunger, terror and panic flooding me as I fight to get free, only for my assailant to hold me tighter still, snapping their teeth by my ear in warning. Whimpering, I still, hoping that whatever they do to me, it will be quick.

"Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here? Couldn't you tell this is our territory?" The voice is distinctly male, though the hostility sounds wrong in it, as if he normally uses a lighter tone to address people.

"T-territory? What do you mean?" I manage to get out, just as puzzled as I am afraid, wincing when he presses me tighter against the fountain.

"You know exactly what I mean. We've marked this area and laid claim to it more times than I can count, so you can't seriously tell me you don't know what I mean. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" He punctuates each word clearly, his breath fanning over my ear as he forces me into even more discomfort, my mind scrambling to piece together what in the hell is going on. My mouth opens and closes as I try to figure out what to say, only to snap shut when I hear a thankfully familiar voice somewhere behind us.

"Get the hell away from her, Paul." David snarls, rich voice laced with anger, the platinum blonde audibly stepping over to where I'm pinned to the water feature. The weight on my back is suddenly gone, my body screaming in relief from the painful position as I twist in time to see a lanky blonde being thrown to the floor by the black-clad platinum blonde who saved my life last night, a gasp escaping me as the former crashes into a rickety old table, the ancient structure cracking in two under the force.

"What's your problem, man?" The blonde, Paul, bites out at David as he climbs to his feet, pulling a few splinters of wood out of his jacket and mop of hair, eyes stool flashing yellow.

"You! You're my problem, waltzing in here and attacking my mate as if you own the place..." His voice trails off, eyes fading into their icy blue again almost as if he's realised what he just said.

Silence encompasses the three of us, shock evident on Paul's face, regret lining David's and confusion probably showing on mine, the quiet quickly becoming awkward as the taller blonde tries to process what he's heard, only disrupted when another two people emerge from the tunnel behind David. One of them, a slightly shorter blonde with curly hair, is pulling on a patchwork jacket, angelic features bright with mirth, whilst the other is a tall dark haired guy with no shirt on, his own leather jacket slung over one broad shoulder, nearly black eyes swiftly finding me.

"Ooh, who's this?" The shorter blonde queries when he sees me, doe eyes raking up and down my figure, though he quickly looks over at Paul when he makes a sound of disbelief.

"Your mate? Since when do you believe in that crap?" Paul exclaims loudly, his words stirring yet more confusion into the soup that has become my mind, my eyes flicking uneasily between the four boys.

"Hold up, who's whose mate?" The short blonde questions, frowning at his friends, the dark haired one staring at me with a vague expression of realisation.

David sighs, coming over to me with a gentle look on his handsome features, helping me back up again and keeping one hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles into the skin as he looks at me worryingly, silently asking if I'm alright. I nod, somehow trusting him.

"This is (Y/n). My mate. We only met yesterday, when I found her being attacked by hunters." He informs the others, eyeing them sternly, "And I'd like it if you could all respect that. She needs help transitioning."

"Hang on, before you go on, what are you talking about? Hunters? Transitioning? Mate? What on earth does it all mean?" I butt in, finally speaking up over the others.

David and the dark haired one exchange glances briefly, before the latter ushers the other two outside and out of sight, leaving the platinum blonde and I alone together. Carefully, he eases me onto the edge of the fountain, sitting beside me without making eye contact.

"How long have you been like this?" He finally asks, looking over at me.

"Like...this? You mean messed up, hungry, hysterical, nocturnal and not to mention chased around Santa Carla by two people I thought were my friends? For four days now." I respond, drawing attention to the gnawing hunger in the back of my throat again.

"Four days? How long have you been in Santa Carla?" He sounds confused now, as if he wasn't expecting me to say that.

"For three. I don't know why, I sort of just...needed to come here. It's like i felt this connection between me and what i have now figured out is you...sorry, this is too much information, and I probably sound weird as hell..." I admit to him, fiddling with the hem of my tattered shirt.

"No, that makes sense, it's a mate thing, I guess." He murmurs quietly.

"Can you just tell me what that means please?" I ask again, sighing in exasperation.

"This is probably going to sound pretty crazy, but you, as well as me and the others, are a vampire, and somehow, that has also made the mate bond between us stronger. Mate bond as in some weird, primal urge to be together."

"Wait, what?"

It takes David a full hour to properly explain everything to me, by which point I'm absolutely starving, my fangs itching to make themselves known, as well as slightly disturbed by the knowledge of what I really am, even if it does explain a lot about the events of the past four nights. David seems to notice my discomfort, as he suddenly stands up, offering me a hand with a small smirk on his face.

"Come on, let's get you some food."

"Food? Like blood?" I inquire, gingerly placing my shaking hand in his gloved one, allowing him to pull me up.

"Exactly like blood." He smirks, leading me to the entrance of the cave, where we go put and climb up a rickety old walkway to the top of a cliff. Once at the peak, we stand at the edge, looking out over the roaring sea, the noise of which is still unbearably loud to my ears.

"So we can either take my motorcycle, or we can take the more interesting route." The vampire offers, blue eyes boring into me.

"More interesting route?" I question, lifting an eyebrow.

He doesn't respond, instead just smirking wider, going to the edge of the cliff. With a suggestive wink, he steps backwards, off the edge, disappearing below the cliff line. Gasping, I go to step forwards, as if to stop him, only to freeze in place when he floats back into view, coat swirling around him as the wind rushes past his narrow body.

"What the...how are you doing that?!"

Incredulous, I rush to the edge, looking over it as if to check if he's standing on something, only to look back up at him when I don't see anything.

"Practice. Come on, you can float, too." He grins, coming closer. I smirk at the IT reference, edging forwards, taking his outstretched hands, only to feel confused when he bats them away, his arms wrapping around my waist securely. As he does so, I suddenly feel the ground melt away from under my feet, a squeak of fear escaping me before I look up into his pale face, laughing as a sudden rush of exhilaration course through me, my own hands coming up to rest against the hard planes of his chest. He grins at me happily, slowly releasing his grip on me, whooping out loud when I manage to float on my own, only to grab hold of me again when I waver unsteadily, tipping towards the ground.

"Come on, let's get you some blood." He promises, twisting around and gesturing for me to hold onto his back, before swiftly flying off in the direction of Santa Carla, an exhilarated scream escaping me. In no time, we're circling around the dark alleys and back roads of the small coastal town, swiftly locating a group of three people, who look hopelessly lost.

"Just drop down on them, and let loose." Dvaid encourages me, going nearer to the group.

Taking this into account, I release his back and fall to the floor, dropping right on top of one of them, my instincts taking over as my fangs break past my lower lip, slicing into the soft skin even as I tear into the available skin of my first victim. Blood spurts up into my waiting mouth, a ravenous moan escaping me as I clasp the person closer to me, relishing in the terrified shrieks of their friends, easily drinking my first victim dry. Throwing them aside, I stalk over to the others, who are paralyzed in fear, grabbing one and sinking my teeth into their soft skin, enjoying the sensation of the delicious life force flowing from them to me. Too soon, they die in my arms, allowing me to easily drop them and move on, finishing off the last one in no time.

As I finish, David drops from the sky, eyeing me closely, as if expecting me to attack him, too. When I don't, he comes closer, grinning from ear to ear, lifting a hand up to my face to wipe a trickle of blood away from the corner of my mouth, bringing the digit to his lips, licking the red substance off of it, the action making me feel oddly hot around the collar, despite the fact that the hunger is still rife in my mind, body still yearning for more. Swiping my tongue over my chin, I try to force it down, feeling my features slowly morphing back into their natural state, the fangs protruding from my gums sinking back into normal sized teeth, a groan of both satisfaction and dissatisfaction leaving me at the thought of having to stop now.

"Don't worry, kitten, we'll get you some more-" David goes to reassure me, only to suddenly be cut off as something explodes by his head, a familiar cloud of mist encasing him. Surprised, the vampire growls in pain, hands lifting to his face, rubbing at his now-bloodied skin, eyes flashing yellow in the fog of white moisture, the agonized groans he emits distressing me.

"David?! David, are you ok?!" I move to go and help him, only to flinch back when the vampire pushes me away again, voice strangled.

"I-I'm fine...damn...hunters again...get out of here!" He commands, twisting away from me. Annoyingly, I feel conflicted, part of me wanting to stay and help him, the other wanting to obey his words. It's only when he snarls another "Go!" at me that I turn and leave the area, biting my lip as I run around the corner.

As I do so, I hear an unfamiliar, distinctly female, voice start speaking to David, the words unclear as I start remembering something one of the hunters from the night before said, when they first tried to stake me:

"Wait till the girls find out they missed this."

These must be the girls he was talking about; vengeful girlfriends out to kill their boyfriends' killers. Peeking back around the corner, I nearly gasp as I see David on his knees, a woman pushing him down with a foot on his back, another standing before him with a stake poised over his head. At the moment, they seem caught up in some sort of joint speech, which gives me some time to figure out how to help, an idea swiftly forming in my head.

Looking around, I spot a pipe running up the side of the building near me, which I go over to, testing its stability. Inhaling, I start using it to pull myself up, my new strength allowing me to easily scale the building, ignoring the worrying creaking sounds that it emits as I heave myself onto the roof. Catching my breath, I race over to where I have a view of the alley below, my eyes swiftly finding the three people below. Standing straighter, I relax my muscles and concentrate on feeling light, straining to get myself up into the air, hopelessness starting to flood me as I feel the roof below me remain where it is.

For a minute, nothing happens, my feet staying firmly in place, until I let out an annoyed sigh, at which point i suddenly feel weightless, the slates under my shoes falling away as I open my eyes and look down, smiling briefly as I notice I'm a good few feet off the surface. Determined, I tilt myself forward a little, moving so I'm in line with the prone figure of my so-called mate, lowering myself somehow until I'm just out of sight. David struggles again, hissing as the girl with her foot on his back pours a liquid down the back of his coat, briefly distracting her, giving me the opportunity I need. I drop down, grabbing the stake-wielding hunter around the waist and pulling her upwards, my fangs instantly finding their purchase around her throat, tearing out her oesophagus and trachea with a horrible ease, the blood filling my mouth deliciously as her strangled screams fade into nothing.

Pulling away, I look down to see the other hunter glancing around, a stake now held in one hand as she tries to figure out where I am, pulse audible from here. Grinning sadistically, I allow the body in my arms to fall to the floor below, thudding loudly against the pavement, blood making a paint-like splash on the otherwise unstained tarmac, the sound drawing the hunter's attention away from David, a low gasp of air escaping her, before it breaks off into a pained scream when David suddenly jumps up to tear her heart from her back. As the blood erupts out of the now-limp body, i slowly manage to lower myself to the floor, wiping my chin on my sleeve as he looks at me in shock and gratitude. Noticing this, I make eye contact with him, smiling proudly.

"Goddamn hunters." Is all I say, mimicking him from earlier.

All he does is chuckle thankfully, sweeping me up into his arms, pressing me against his chest. Smiling, I wrap my arms around him, glad to have finally found someone to help me through this.

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)#david x reader

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weeklyfangirl · 5 years ago

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.

My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough.

“oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.”

A flying toenail hit my eye.

“WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.

“Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

“oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!”

“IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back.

I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle.

“All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

“You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.”

“Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.”

I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.”

“Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?”

This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did.

After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t.

And he didn’t.

And therein lay the problem.

It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

“Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.”

“Ew, he smells like meat.”

“RENNY!!”

“I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

“He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.”

She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window.

“Hey Renny?”

“Hm.”

A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?”

“Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.”

“Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.

“Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?”

Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first.

“I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.”

“Oh.”

“It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

“The divorce or your virginity.”

“Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis.

“I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more.

Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?”

Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him.

“Maybeeee…?”

But then there was last night.

I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves?

“No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.”

Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.”

“Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this.

Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly.

But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him?

You were right, Harry. You are fucked.

I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh.

I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

Renny was right.

I needed therapy.

The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

“Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?”

DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please.

I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

“NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

“Fine. I can keep a secret.”

I was getting a little too good at that lately.

She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious.

“Yeah, more than you know.”

And I was serious, too.

--------------------------------------

I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs.

Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery. .

“Woah did you hear that?”

Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.”

It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next.

A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did.

“It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts.

“How’d you know that?”

She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance.

I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick.

Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away.

My hand wavered.

Odd.

Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors.

I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over.

“Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”

Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster.

“I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.”

Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too.

“Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed.

We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from.

“Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment.

My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?”

“Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-”

“My God,” David proclaimed.

Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.”

“Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass.

Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

“Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased.

He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.”

We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left.

“Look closer.”

My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang.

“Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin.

The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot.

“Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

“Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.”

“How so?”

“Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.”

He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside.

He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles.

“They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said.

A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.”

“Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.”

“Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him.

I felt him come closer.

“Listen now,” he urged.

I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder.

“Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.”

I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed.

“Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?”

I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous.

“What do you hear?” he urged.

“I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped.

But right when I was about to open my eyes-

I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter.

“Birds?” I opened my eyes.

“Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself.

“Why are there birds?”

“We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half.

My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.”

“All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes.

“Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.”

“What do you mean?”

She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow.

I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second.

I was naked.

In all of them.

One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.

Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet.

The wine had dropped.

I’d dropped it.

I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb.

“Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked.

I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe.

He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees.

Because that’s what it was.

An exposure.

A stranger could pay to have me in their home.

The floor spun, vision spotting.

My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly.

“I didn’t want this.”

And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home.

part 22

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ravenwolfie97 · 4 years ago

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2020 Art Summary

Yep, it’s 2021 already. 2020 is finally over. It felt like it lasted forever, and it felt like the end would never come, but here we are. Crazy how the time flew by.

I felt like I didn’t get much art done this year because of Current World Event, but I made a lot more than I thought I did. Even some of my new favorite pieces came out of this year, so I think that’s worth celebrating and looking back upon!

I was insanely productive during the first month of 2020, and looking back I was surprised at all the stuff I did, but then I remembered that that winter season was actually one of the best times of my life! I started being more socially involved, and I think my newfound drive at the time translated into all the art I pumped out this month. This is just a small fraction of what I made in January, but I only have so much space. Quite a few complex pieces in both style exploration and polishing my own style.

Apparently February was a rather intimate month. Things began to slow down in terms of my own art here, with me spending more time in social settings and school work ramping up, I didn’t have as much time to coop up in my room to draw. I did wanna do something for a friend’s Valentine’s Day OC art challenge, so I drew my lovey-dovey couple from Dance of 1000 Words havin’ a dance. Nothing actually came of that challenge, but it was fun to do regardless.

One of the things I was most proud of in the winter season was making more friends, and one of the closest friends I made was completely coincidental. I met a person named Kiri on the bus one night I decided to volunteer somewhere by myself, and we ended up chatting and getting along. They quickly told me their tumblr username, and I shot them a message immediately after they left. A couple days later, we met up for brunch, and we started becoming really close friends and creative partners!

Not much else happened in March cuz that’s when Current World Event started becoming an issue, but Kiri and I still kept in close touch and we randomly started developing a concept for a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Galar Edition. These are a handful of characters we thought up, with Skipper the Scorbunny and Dross the Dreepy as the main characters, Morgrem as the main antagonist, and some shopkeepers such as those of the Greedent Bank and the Indeedee General Store. This was also my first time drawing all of these Galar Pokemon (except Scorbunny, but I also made Skipper a bit more unique than a regular Scorbunny).

Lots of events happened this month. First of all, Steven Universe Future ended, one of my favorite and most influential shows was no longer continuing. I had to do something as tribute, both as a send-off to one of the greatest cartoons in the world and as a cathartic release for my feelings towards it.

A while later, I got the opportunity to start playing an MMO in beta called Fer.al, by the same people who made Animal Jam, which coincidentally I had also beta tested for back in the day. I ended up getting really attached to my first character, a Senri I named Sasha, and though I’ve made more characters than them since, they’re still my absolute favorite. Though I haven’t touched the game in a few months, I was really engrossed for a long time and enjoyed playing through the beta and early access phases.

At the end of the month, some friends of mine invited to a roleplay group with some mutuals, and we all played characters in a crime syndicate. Just a bunch of ragtag thieves and criminals who ended up together in order to protect an artifact called the Crown of Thieves, which was essentially a flag to be taken by other groups to prove that they are the best thieves in the land. My character was based heavily on my sona (if it wasn’t obvious) and was also influenced by Cloud Strife, since the FFVII Remake had just come out and I was super into watching the cutscenes at the time. My character’s (code)name is Valkyrie, and they are a mercenary, going between multiple different employers to carry out whatever duties they need to do. They have a more complicated backstory, but presently they were recently hired by recommendation of their friend Shark (played by @shmoots-universe who is also My friend now ily maya) who works with a group called the Court Cards who are currently in possession of the Crown of Thieves. Valk never really had a place to call home, but staying with this group of people had to be the closest they could get to that feeling. They still sleep with a knife under their pillow because of trust issue but that’s okay.

Okay, so technically these examples started in April, but I continued making content with them in May, and the month was just pretty void of art in general, so here I am addressing them.

There were two main things I worked on this month: a Steven Universe AU of my own and the whole #sixfanarts thing that kicked off around then. Let’s start with the fanart bits. I did two and a half of them (six in April and nine in May), and it was so much fun to be able to draw stuff I don’t normally do! My personal favorites are shown here: Blake Belladonna from RWBY, Roll from Megaman, Yuki Konno from Sword Art Online, and Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess. The other thing I’d been planning for a while was a Steven Universe AU, probably to cope with the show being over but also because I was inspired by a lot of those SU AU artists I started following at the time. I won’t share the details here because it’s gonna have its own blog at some point, but the example I’ve shown here is of a comic I made loosely in order to introduce a divergence in the plot of the story as well as introduce a character unique to my AU. It was a lot of fun figuring out how to draw the characters and get a feel for the style.

As the year progressed, my amount of art I made per month began to dwindle, this time mostly because school was kicking my ass especially hard with finals. However, I took what time I had to get some backburner pieces finished, like the Tigerlily picture which I sketched out a couple months back, and the Gunvolt picture which I started working on SIX YEARS AGO. I don’t quite know why I got the urge to work on it again after so long, but it was nice to finally realize. The other drawing for DOTS was done in the dead of night but I was really happy with how it came out.

Despite only having two summer classes left of school, this month was really rough because they demanded a lot of my time and attention. I did not have the gumption to do anything digital, so I stuck to my sketchbook to get out what I felt like getting out.

My friends and I did a stream of the game Helltaker, and I really enjoyed the concept, so in following my friends I made my own Helltaker demon OC named Raksha the Ravenous Demon (it’s a pun but also got mythical insp). I also got super into Hazbin Hotel at this point, mostly because the Addict music video dropped and I couldn’t get enough of it, so I doodled Angel Dust cuz I felt like it. The other drawing I did was actually a free commission I gave a friend of mine as a prize for a trivia game show I ran back in June. He along with a couple other friends got some free drawings from me for getting the top three scores, and this one in particular was fun because of how interesting it was. He wanted me to draw a video game reviewer called the Irate Gamer from a specific moment, and I decided to go ham and just make it as dramatic as possible.

University classes finally wrapped up and right after that I was in the process of moving out of my apartment and getting adjusted to living with my parents again. I did a couple of agg.io drawing sessions with my friends from the Court Cards group as well as a new Dungeons and Dragons homebrew group I had joined. I drew some more of Valkyrie and came up with a design for my DND character Qakuqtuq (or Kai for short). He is monkey grandpa and I love him.

My main focus was on finishing a polished piece for my friend Cake, whose birthday was in the upcoming month. I wanted it to be as amazing as possible, so I put a lot of time into getting more detailed and making them look good. In addition to that, I did a few TOME doodles just for fun. The creature on the bottom was for this month’s art challenge on my Discord server where we made original TOMERPG monsters, and I created Hundylow, a Crystal-element monster based on the Grindylow from English folklore.

This month was a lot more productive than the past few had been. I tried to do a 31-day art challenge called Creatober but failed to get past the third prompt because I was still swamped with other work. I’m still happy with what little I did, including the piece with my characters Kyle and Guarudan from DSWD.

I don’t remember how, but I also suddenly rediscovered an old Flipnote Hatena series called Tales of LostClan, a Warriors fan series that I would say was the most obscure thing I’ve ever been super invested in. It was what got me into the actual Warriors books, and I liked it so much I redrew the animations into a comic... twice. Didn’t get nearly as far the second time but clearly my love for this little fanfiction had not waned after nearly a decade. I felt like drawing a book cover/movie poster for the series, just to get it out there and see how much I’ve improved over all that time.

Also I felt like making a vampiresona just before Halloween because I never dress up for Halloween in art (or real life anymore, for that matter), and I wanted to do something like that for once. It was short-lived but I really liked the design!

The focus of this month was definitely on Pokemon stuff. As per usual I contributed to the current Gotta Draw ‘Em All collab, and I was tasked to draw Regieleki. It was really fun to figure out how to make it stand out and look like it was made of electricity.

I also committed a lot of my spare time to my Fakemon Gym Leaders, as I had been working on bringing them to life in the past year or so now. As of this post, I’ve finished rendering their full body poses and gym badges, but I’m still working on completing all eight VS portraits, the first half of which are shown here.

I... didn’t draw anything this month, actually. What I’m showing here was worked on in the last few days but has actually been in progress for a couple of months, and I just finished it earlier today, in 2021. But I needed to show something off, and it’s also about time I mentioned it.

Back in October, I kept seeing people rave about this game called Genshin Impact, and I was interested but not so much as to start playing it... until my friends started playing and I was like “fuck it, let’s download it”. Since that day, I have been super immersed and in love with this game, to the point I came up with my own canon based on my gameplay experiences. This also included the creation of an original player character: Astra, the non-binary Traveller. And now, I’ve finally drawn them and brought them to life.

It has been one hell of a year. I had some of the highest highs and lowest lows in 2020, lots of changes, and I have now officially moved onto the next chapter of my life now that my time at university is finally over. I’m very excited for what 2021 has to offer, and I’m going to go forward with great ambition.

#my art stuff #art summary #this is always a joy to do every year and i'm glad to keep up the tradition for the sixth year in a row #this year was super good for this as well just to look back on what i was actually able to accomplish #long post #tome #hazbin hotel

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syntaxeme · 5 years ago

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One Good Turn ch. 5 [end]

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] Rating: M Story summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss. Note: I did have another chapter planned for this story, but I’ve gotten so thoroughly invested in my Giardino Segreto AU that I don’t think I’ll ever get around to it. Besides, this isn’t a terrible place to leave off!

— — –

Angel’s back was pinned against the wall in the hotel’s abandoned excuse for a ballroom. The room was mostly dark, a little light from the setting sun bleeding in through dingy windows while he lazily observed one of his fellow patrons trying to make a move on him. The other demon was a little taller than Angel himself, a little broader, and he used his extra bit of height to his advantage, leaning forward against the wall to bear down on Angel.

“You talk a pretty big game, sweet thing.” His name was some kind of music joke: Jazz or Ska or House or some shit. “I’d sure like to see you put your money where your mouth is.”

“I can think of better things to put in my mouth,” Angel snickered. As the other demon grinned and reached up to pet his cheek, Angel slapped his hand away and went on, “But your dick ain’t one of ‘em. Fuck off and find someone else to bother.”

“Are you serious?” Maybe-Jazz growled. “You sit there makin’ offers all through Charlie’s sessions but you won’t follow through?”

“Offers? Please. Look, I ain’t serious about any of that shit; I’m sayin’ it to fuck with ya, not to actually fuck ya.” This wasn’t the first time he’d had to explain this over the past week or so, but truth be told, he was kind of enjoying having the freedom to say ‘no’ (not that his sex drive wasn’t as strong as ever, but he’d gotten pickier about who he was willing to spend it on—a lot pickier).

“Well I’m not into being teased, so maybe you better reconsider.” Jazz snaked an arm around Angel’s waist, incorrectly thinking this was a situation he could brute-force his way through. As if his vague bullshit threats were anything compared to what Angel had been through in the past.

Cute. His body moved almost by reflex, one hand grabbing Jazz’s shirt to reverse their positions and shove him back against the wall. His other hands reached into his jacket and drew out a matching set of three pistols, pressing one to Jazz’s temple, one to his chest, and aiming the last at his crotch.

“Which trigger should I pull first, ya think?” Angel asked casually, enjoying the shocked and disarmed look on the other demon’s face. “You could probably live without your balls, but I feel like you don’t get much use outta your brain, either.”

“Hey, cool it,” Jazz grumbled, raising his hands in surrender. “You know killin’ me’d set back your redemption plan pretty far.”

“Ha! You must not know me very well, sweet thing. I’m a backslider from way back; wouldn’t be the first time my virtues got a little blurry.” After another moment of enjoying the tension, he released the other demon’s shirt and took a step back. “But fuckin’ you up isn’t worth listenin’ to Charlie gripe. So how ‘bout you get the hell outta my face and we call it even?”

“Fine. Shit.” With a bitter, disappointed glance in Angel’s direction, Jazz shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked out of the room. Angel twirled his guns once before tucking them back into his jacket. He was just in such a good goddamn mood lately, and he didn’t have to wonder why; true to Alastor’s word, none of Val’s guys had shown up at the hotel since their little ‘chat,’ leaving Angel free to enjoy his independence and sexuality—or lack thereof!—whatever way he chose. Since he’d been working for Val so long, it was refreshing to be back in control of himself now. And he hadn’t forgotten for even a second who he had to thank for it.

Alastor had been acting a little weird since then, though. Looking at him funny, not responding to his playful flirting right, and then there was that word—cher—he’d started using. Angel might not have the best grasp of French, but he was pretty sure he recognized that term. Enough to know what it meant but not what it meant.

As he strolled out of the ballroom Jazz had dragged him into without warning, he found Alastor standing outside, clutching his staff tightly in both hands. “Angel,” he said a little too cheerfully. “How are you? I thought…well, I could’ve been wrong. It sounded like you and Jazz had a bit of a disagreement.”

“Is there anything in the hotel you don’t hear?” Angel tried hard not to think about how many times he’d moaned the Radio Demon’s name into his pillow over the past few nights.

“Not much.” Alastor’s default expression didn’t shift in the slightest. It wasn’t easy, but Angel was making a point of learning to tell one smile from another. How else would he ever learn to read the cryptic bastard? “But you look fine. I suppose you took care of it.”

“Y’know, it’s pretty cute, you gettin’ all protective,” Angel said with a knowing grin, “but don’t start thinkin’ I can’t handle myself with jerk-offs like him. I’m not gonna ask you to step in for me again any time soon, don’t worry.”

“Right. Of course! No, I know you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself.” He was doing it again, getting all awkward and distant for no reason, avoiding Angel’s eyes, his usual smooth attitude stuttering a little.

Angel Dust had never been much good at quiet contemplation or impulse control, so instead of keeping his concerns to himself and giving Alastor space, he asked directly, “What’s goin’ on with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit. Don’t act like you haven’t been lookin’ at me different since you got back from Val’s place.” Or maybe it was the kiss. “You act like you’re happy to see me, you start talkin’ to me like normal, then you clam up all of a sudden and run off. You were always a little weird, but you’re weirder lately, and I feel like it’s got somethin’ to do with me.”

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit to think that Alastor was mad at him or something. Despite his best efforts at resisting, Angel had developed a sort of attachment to him, weirdness and all. Maybe out of gratitude. Maybe something else. He already knew better than to expect Alastor would ever start feeling something similar about him, but he’d thought they were at least on some kind of friendly terms.

The Radio Demon was silent and still for just a moment too long, and Angel let out a frustrated sigh, throwing up his hands and starting past him toward the elevator—but Alastor caught his hand to stop him.

“If anything I’ve done has made you feel like you’re in the wrong, I’m sorry,” he said plainly. “I’ve been keeping my distance while I decided how to talk to you about this. And, obviously, I haven’t had any luck. Now might be as good a time as any.”

“For what? What d’you want to talk about?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor seemed to realize he was still holding Angel’s hand and released it. “I’d rather have the conversation in private, if you don’t mind. We could use one of the conference rooms or—”

“Isn’t your room closer?” Angel asked, raising his eyebrows, and Al’s throat constricted with a reflexive gulp.

“Yes. That’s also fine. If you like.” He turned on his heel to lead the way down the hall to room 313, then held the door open and gestured for Angel to go ahead. The room was surprisingly minimalist, not reflecting the beaucoups of personality that showed every time Alastor opened his mouth. But that was better than the hellish horrors some other Overlords might decorate with.

“So what’s the deal?” Angel’s instinct was to seat himself on the bed, but he resisted it, not wanting Alastor to think he was being pushy.

“The question seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Yet as hard as I’ve tried, I can’t seem to answer it as clearly or eloquently as I’d like. That’s part of the reason I haven’t mentioned it to you; I felt there was no point bringing it up until I actually had something to say.”

“Funny. Most times, it’s a lot harder to make you stop talkin’.”

“Believe me, I know exactly how unusual this is,” Alastor sighed, releasing his staff and letting it vanish, “which is most likely why it’s been so difficult for me to form it into a complete, polished statement.”

“Give it to me messy, then.” Seeing how rigid Alastor had gone, Angel winced and tried again. Sometimes his mouth just formed innuendos without any effort on his part. “I’m sayin’ I don’t need it to be super-organized and flawless. Just tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

The Radio Demon took a deep breath and, without looking anywhere near Angel, confessed, “I want…you. That’s the clearest way I can think to say it.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head, obviously frustrated with how inelegant the words were. But they were enough to hold Angel’s attention regardless.

“Oh.” He was about to ask Alastor to elaborate but quickly realized that was the part he was having trouble with. So he asked a different question. “When’d that start?”

“Roughly twenty-four seconds after you kissed me,” Alastor said matter-of-factly.

“After? So that’s not why you helped me with Val?”

“No. I don’t think so, at least. And I didn’t want you thinking so, either. But then—” He choked out a laugh. “I don’t have a definitive answer for why I did that, either, so maybe I’m fooling myself. It’s hard to say.”

“Well, if you can’t tell me what ya want, it’ll be awful hard for me to give it to ya.”

Red eyes lingered on Angel’s lips, and Alastor wet his own. “But you’re willing to agree, just like that? Without even knowing what I’m asking for?”

“Al, I’m gonna be totally honest with you,” Angel said, drawing closer and bending down a little to meet his gaze. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little bit of a freak. I figured I was wastin’ my time, thinkin’ about gettin’ with you—”

“You’ve been thinking about that, have you?”

“—but I’m pretty sure whatever you wanna do with my body, I’ll enjoy it,” he went on, draping his arms over Alastor’s shoulders, not missing the shiver that went through the Overlord’s body. “I trust you.”

Those were apparently the magic words; Alastor’s eyes widened, and he dragged Angel into a firm kiss. And he participated much more actively this time! He slid one hand into Angel’s hair to draw him downward, forcing his posture to bend, but he was too absorbed in the experience to be bothered.

It all seemed to happen much slower than he expected. Alastor’s tongue traced his lips, stealing his breath, then slipped inside, everything soft and wet and warm. Even as Angel pressed in closer, arms tightening around Alastor’s shoulders and waist, Al refused to let him take things any faster. It seemed like he was intent on exploring every inch of Angel’s mouth in his own time, and—God—his tongue was longer than expected. When Alastor moaned into his mouth, Angel’s heart practically stopped, and he forced himself to break away for a breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hanging off Al for stability.

“That’s a nice sound, cher,” the Radio Demon purred, allowing his free arm to wrap around Angel’s slender waist and hold him close. “I wonder what it would take to hear more of it.”

“Uh. My voice?” Angel asked, embarrassed at how turned on he’d gotten from just one kiss (albeit a very deep, very thorough kiss).

“That’s right. I know for sure that I want that. The question is how to go about getting it.” Using the grip in his hair, he turned Angel toward him for another kiss, one every bit as hot and intense as the first, and Angel found himself moaning softly with every breath from having his mouth full. How ironic that someone so indifferent about sex could excite him with hardly any effort. But after so long doing without, every little bit of pleasurable friction made him eager for more. If this is his first time, is he feeling all that too?

“H-hang on,” he whimpered, reluctantly pushing Alastor away so he could catch a breath. “You probably can’t hear me really well if my mouth’s covered.”

“Fair point.” Al grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the bed, then pushed him forward to kneel on the mattress. Stepping in close behind him, Alastor wrapped both arms around his waist, chest pressed to Angel’s back. With Angel on his knees, Alastor’s mouth was at just the right level to meet his neck, lips and tongue and teeth teasing to send hot shivers down his spine.

“That’s…nice, baby,” Angel sighed, and he could feel Alastor tense up behind him. “What? Somethin’ wrong?”

“I don’t care to be called that,” the Radio Demon said plainly. “Try again, cher.”

“Oh. Well, what d’ya like, then?” Angel was struggling to focus on talking as Al easily unbuttoned his jacket and stripped it off him to toss it to the floor. So much for shyness! He knew some part of what he wanted, clearly.

“Surprise me,” Alastor chuckled. “Something unique. Something you wouldn’t use for anyone else.”

“Okay. How ‘bout, uh, dear?” That one was a lot more wholesome than he was used to.

Al laughed against his skin. “Yes, that seems appropriate.” His hands drifted down to unbutton Angel’s shorts, drawing a breathless moan from his lips.

“Alastor…”

“Simple, but I’m surprised at how much I enjoy hearing it.” As he talked, casual as could be, he slid his hand down the front of Angel’s shorts to tease a desperate whine from his lips.

“Y-y’know, you’re makin’ this…kinda hard for me, honey,” he moaned, cheeks flushing with heat. There was another term he didn’t use often. It always felt too sweet, too familiar to call a stranger. But of course, Alastor didn’t fall into that category anymore.

“Oh, I like that very much, cher,” he purred, his hand meeting Angel’s bare skin without any sense of reservation or discomfort. Angel whined and writhed, embarrassed at how hard he’d gotten already but not trying to escape.

“Hang on. Lemme…do somethin’ for you too.” He tried reaching back with his free hands to grope between Alastor’s legs—but the Radio Demon moved away before he could.

“That’s not necessary.” The shadows in the room came to life and bound Angel’s wrists in front of him so he couldn’t reach. With a snap of Alastor’s fingers, the room went utterly pitch black, forcing Angel to feel everything else even more. It seemed unfair that with hardly any experience, he was still doing everything just right. “If you want to please me, speak to me, moan for me—sing for me if you like. I can promise no one else will hear. And I intend to keep it that way.”

So there was a little possessiveness in him somewhere. Not that Angel minded. Even if it wasn’t the same kind of sex he was used to having, he was still 100% engaged and eager to do whatever he could to make it good for his partner too. He moaned wantonly, trying and failing to keep his hips still, dropping his head back against Alastor’s shoulder just to be closer to him. The Radio Demon chuckled at his enthusiasm and nibbled along his neck, sharp teeth deliciously dangerous against soft skin.

“Harder,” Angel whispered, and he obliged without hesitation, biting down hard enough that Angel was sure he would have a bruise—but he still wasn’t satisfied. “I said harder, honey.”

Alastor hummed his approval and sank his teeth viciously into Angel’s neck, the force enough to buckle his knees. Good thing he was kneeling already. Al made a point of lapping up whatever blood he’d spilled, even gathering a few stray drops with his fingers and licking it off. Meaning that when his hand slid between Angel’s legs again, it was slick and wet, enough to pull a shocked cry of pleasure from his lips.

“I didn’t…I really didn’t expect you to be this good,” he laughed shakily.

“No? What did you expect?” Alastor’s other hand slid up the curve of his waist and into the thick fur of his chest to banish any space between them. “I’m curious, chéri: what have you been imagining?”

“Well. I figured you’d be kinda…forceful like this,” Angel answered, trying to distract himself from the slow strokes on his heated flesh, the way Alastor’s fingertips seemed to be mapping out every curve of his body. So calm, so thorough, and shockingly effective. “But, uh…I dunno, maybe a little clumsy? So much for that.” It was also surprising him how difficult holding a conversation was; normally guys weren’t interested in talking to him, especially in bed.

“Why bother doing a thing if you aren’t going to do it well, that’s what I always say.” Alastor took his hand away, and Angel almost whined, almost begged him to keep going—but his breath caught as something else curled around his erection, something slender and flexible like a… Like a shadow tentacle, he realized. Holy shit. The Radio Demon was apparently kinkier than he let on, but Angel could hardly complain when it all felt so good.

As his body was burning up and he was really losing track of his breath, he rested his head back against Alastor’s shoulder and turned to murmur into his ear. “Will you, uh, kiss me again?”

“Hmm. You like having your mouth full that much?” Al teased, and a shiver of hot embarrassment (and something else) rushed through Angel’s stomach.

“Well, I”—he swallowed hard—“I like when it’s your tongue.”

Alastor let out a low groan and held him even tighter. “Whatever you need, chéri.” One of his hands found its way into Angel’s hair again, and this time his kiss was brutal, bruising, urgent. Perfect. But he was no slouch at multitasking, his shadow magic just as precise and attentive as his hand was, and all this friction between Angel’s legs and lips was driving him out of his mind.

Remembering what Al had said about wanting to hear him, he didn’t bother stifling his moans, not for a second, his pitch and volume rising every moment that Alastor toyed with him. Fuck, it’s so hot. I can’t handle it! I… He could hardly even keep his own thoughts straight, too lost in feeling every single second of this, getting closer and closer until his willpower finally broke and he came with a breathy scream. His instinct was to pull away to catch his breath, but Alastor kept him trapped, apparently content to swallow every deep, desperate whimper that slipped out of his lips as he rode out his orgasm.

Eventually, after several more seconds of enjoying his mouth, Alastor drew away and let him gasp for air but still refused to allow any space between them. He even nuzzled his lips slowly against Angel’s neck, and a different, totally non-sexual warmth flooded through him. “That…that was… Uh, wow,” he laughed, and Alastor snickered along with him.

“Good to know my ‘weirdness about sex’ didn’t ruin it for you.”

“No way. It was better,” Angel told him without thinking. “Maybe just cuz it was you.”

“Ahem!” He could imagine Alastor’s bashful smile, which was very slightly different from his nervous smile or his apprehensive one.

“So?” Angel shifted carefully to sit up, tugging at the bonds still holding his wrists. “You gonna let me spend the night or…?”

“Let you? I would be bothered if you didn’t. Besides.” With another snap of Alastor’s fingers, a lamp in the corner glowed to life, casting soft red light across the room. Shouldn’t that be creepy? Unnerving? Angel felt totally comfortable. “I think you’d find it difficult to get upstairs in your state.” To illustrate, he pushed Angel forward lightly, and he easily collapsed against the bed, shaky now that he was no longer being supported.

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya,” he answered, wriggling out of his shorts and kicking them, along with his boots, to the floor.

“Oh, is that something else you enjoy? I’ll keep it in mind.” After stripping out of his coat and hanging it in the closet, Alastor unfastened his cuffs and unbuttoned his shirt a little, then came to crawl into bed still mostly dressed. Angel decided not to question it; if that was how he was comfortable, then fine. When he noticed Angel’s shaking wasn’t stopping, he tilted his head to one side and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“No, no.” Angel tried to still himself, hoping not to ruin the mood after everything had gone so well. “I’m fine. Just…tryna calm down.” That was a pretty intense session, after all, so his body and mind were still a little overwhelmed.

“I see.” Moving slightly closer without touching him, Alastor instead asked, “Would you like to be near me while you do so?”

His reflexive and honest answer was yes, please—but he hesitated to speak it, not wanting to come off clingy or weak. “I mean, you don’t hafta do that. If you gimme a couple minutes, I’ll—”

“You aren’t answering my question, cher,” Alastor pointed out, very carefully brushing his thumb over Angel’s cheek. Even that tiny bit of gentle affection was a huge comfort after so much intensity. Angel’s resistance quickly broke.

“Yeah. I would.” He wriggled a little closer under the covers to put himself in Alastor’s arms, and the Radio Demon held him without question, stroking his hair and humming to him softly while he slowly relaxed. So weird. So different. But different in a way Angel could definitely see himself getting used to. “You better be careful, honey. Keep bein’ this nice to me and I might start gettin’ confused about what you actually want here.”

“That would make two of us,” Alastor answered quietly. But he didn’t back away, didn’t get uncomfortable, didn’t kick Angel out of his bed. He didn’t make any effort to insist that this was just about sex (since it obviously wasn’t) or that Angel shouldn’t get his hopes up for anything more. Which was a good thing, because as he leaned down for another kiss—slow and soft this time—Angel’s hopes were rising higher and higher all the time. How long had it been since he’d felt hopeful about anything? He wasn’t even sure what he expected to happen, but damn it: he’d forgotten how good it felt to believe in something.

#RadioDust #Hazbin Angel Dust #Hazbin Alastor #look I have a lot of feelings okay #One Good Turn #Radio Dust #Angel x Alastor

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years ago

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Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost - Latin Calendar - 09/06/2020

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1882

“And when He came nigh to the gates of the city, behold! a dead man was carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow.”–Luke 7.

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1882

Christ, accompanied by a great multitude, approaches the city of Naim, and behold! the corpse of a youth was just borne out of the city gates, followed by a number of people, and his grief-stricken mother. It seemed an accidental meeting, and yet it was not so. Christ, the life, meets death, and again breathes life into the corpse. This unexpected meeting, especially as the dead body was that of a youth, reminds us of the certainty and proximity of death and of the uncertainty of life. It is ordained that all men shall die, as Holy Scripture assures and experience teaches us; and yet, how careless man is in this regard, and what little benefit he derives from meditating upon this truth. Nevertheless it is a truth which, when duly considered, will exert a most decided influence on our lives, and will urge us to arrange the affairs pertaining to our salvation.

Holy Scripture assures us even in the Old Testament: “It is a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead.” St. Paul speaks of this continual remembrance of death as “The answer of death within us.

How sincerely I wish that, with St. Paul, we may all feel the continual warning of approaching and certain death–the answer of death within us–and that we may not be seized with that forgetfulness of death, which is, alas! so common. Mary, patroness of a happy death, pray for us that we live in such manner, as to die, in your arms, the death of the blessed! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

When St. Anthony was lying on his death-bed, he was surrounded by hundreds of his spiritual sons, and they begged of him : “Holy father, you are about to leave us; advise us: which is the most influential, the powerful thought to animate one with great zeal in the service of God?” St Anthony replied: “Brethren, live every day as if it were to be the, last.”

With these words St. Anthony referred to the certainty and nearness of death, but at the same time also to the uncertainty as regards the time, the place, and the manner of death. Nothing else in this world is infallibly certain and sure. The wealthiest may become indigent; the most powerful may lose his crown ; the healthiest may be stricken with disease. Yes, even as regards the last judgment, and heaven and hell. No one knows with infallible certainty what shall be his portion forever; but one thing every one knows he must die.

A multitude followed the corpse of the youth. Every person who joined the procession must have thought within himself: I shall also one day be thus borne to my grave. But when? No one knows. This youth who is borne away as a corpse did certainly not imagine that he was to die before his aged mother.

He who constantly reflects upon what I have said, and lives as if every day were his last, needs no further incentive in order to lead a holy life. And why? This will appear evident when we reflect in what Christian perfection consists, and how the remembrance of certain and approaching death will influence us in this respect.

In the first place, Christian perfection requires a heart free from sin. Shun evil. Therefore a person must, above all things, be able candidly to put this question to his conscience: Am I in the state of mortal sin or not? But this must be done as candidly and earnestly as if we were certain to die the following moment and be judged.

And when a man has thus proven himself, his faith requires of him, that he reconcile himself to God by an entire and sincere confession. But nothing will better bring about this change than the remembrance of the certainty and proximity of death. If one confesses in such a manner, as he will wish to have done when the cold sweat of death stands upon his brow, he will confess well. And that our confessions may really be good and valid, let this truth urge us to the conscientious performance of this duty; do it well; you do not know whether you will ever again have another opportunity; it is, perhaps, your last confession.

“Father, this is probably your last confession,” thus St. Vincent de Paul was addressed by one of his spiritual sons. The saint replied: “Friend, for a number of years I have said to myself: This confession will, perhaps, be my last.”

But to reconcile ourselves to God is not our only obligation; the most important duty is, not to sin again, not to suffer a relapse. What causes a relapse? Fresh temptations. These temptations come to us in divers ways: We are tempted by the concupiscence of the flesh; the world tempts us by her allurements and pleasures; Satan tempts and endeavors to deceive us by investing forbidden objects with delusive charms and attractions. It is especially by means of the honors, possessions, and enjoyments of this life that the world, the flesh, and the devil tempt us. And, no doubt, these things, viewed in the light of the present, possess various charms, and can become snares and dangerous temptations.

But the vivid remembrance of the certain approach of death will nip all these temptations in the bud, and will render them powerless. For what are all worldly possessions, when viewed in the twilight of life's fading day? Dust! What are all the honors of this world? Vapor! What are all sensual enjoyments? Dross!

And even the satisfaction which man enjoys for a time in the possession of wealth, honors, and sensual pleasures will soon end in death.

If we listen to the voice of death within us, the power of temptation will be completely destroyed; because this remembrance of death is inseparably connected with the remembrance of that which is to come after death, and which will decide our eternal destiny. Therefore, the Apostle after saying: “It is appointed for all men once to die,” immediately adds: “And after this the judgment.”

How could man remain in the state of sin, if he constantly reflected upon the terrors of judgment, or how ever relapse into sin! The Memento mori–the remembrance that very soon death will usher you into eternity is the surest preventive against the evil of sin.

This constant remembrance of our end likewise effects the sanctification of our lives, and encourages us in our endeavors to attain Christian perfection; it urges us to accomplish the holy will of God perfectly, in all places and at all times; it puts us in mind of the value of time, and the necessity of making good use of the present; it encourages us not to lose a single moment in the great work of our salvation, nor to neglect the increase of our glory in heaven. But nothing can so clearly prove the inestimable value of time as death, the certainty and nearness of death!

“Time, thou art worth as much as God,” St. Chrysostom was wont to say ; ” for on every hour of time depends a crown for eternity; to win time, is to win God; to lose time, is to lose God.”

Death deprives us of this exceedingly precious gift; a gift for which the angels and saints of heaven envy us.

Now, that we live but once, this once will decide our eternity; this was a maxim of the saints. When once time has flown, it will never again return. We feel this most vividly when attending a death-bed, and considering the last breath which the dying person draws. Now he has expired now his eternal fate is sealed. Not another opportunity of performing a good deed, of increasing his heavenly joys.

I ask: Is there any thing which can urge us more to improve our time for the approaching eternity, than this certainty and proximity of death, this voice of death within us? Oh, that every case of death brought to our notice would remind us with renewed force of the certain approach of eternity!

You should do more; every evening whilst offering your prayers to God, reflect upon some particular circumstance of your death. Think of your last confession, of your last Holy Communion, of extreme unction; and of what you will experience when your soul takes leave of your body; think of your grave, of your appearance before the judgment seat of Christ.

Do this, and no doubt the advice of St. Anthony will not only prove beneficial to his religious sons, but also to you, for the sanctification of your whole life! Amen!

“And when he came nigh to the gates of the city, behold a dead man was carried out, the only son of a widow.”–Luke 7.

There is nothing more certain than death. Everything else is morally certain, possible, probable, as far as regards our future.

Last year we reflected upon the influence this consideration exercises upon our will; it causes us to form the resolution of living as true children of the Church, according to our vocation, to avoid sin, to practise virtue, and to make the best use of time. Even the longest life, how brief it is! and how near is death! How short is a year! Observe how quickly the moon waxes and wanes, and, after thirteen of these changes, a year has passed. And the life of man numbers but seventy or eighty years, and how few reach this age! the majority of those born into the world die as children, and many in the prime of life! The deceased of whom the Gospel of today makes mention is a youth.

You will die,–that is certain; and you will die soon,–this, too, is certain; but how and where you will die is uncertain, also the manner of your death. But it is not exactly so in reference to the moral condition of your soul; and its state, at the time of death, is of the utmost importance.

A proverb says: “As is life, such is death,” therefore, if you have lived indifferently, the troubled death bed of the tepid Christian awaits you; but if you have lived a zealous and holy life, then on your death-bed you will feel the consolation of the just.

Brethren, let us today reflect upon this contrast, and in our dying moments we shall not regret having done so, provided we profit by the light that the Holy Ghost will send to illumine our minds. Mary, our protectress in death, obtain for us, from your beloved Son, the consoling death of the just! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

What, in the first place, causes the lukewarm Christian sadness and affliction of mind on his death-bed, is inordinate attachment to the goods of this world. No doubt, all who lead an indifferent life will attach themselves more or less to the things of this world; but it is particularly the case with persons who have labored incessantly and under great difficulties to acquire temporal possessions, and who have anxiously provided for their comfort.

This country furnishes many instances of this kind. Many a one who came over from Europe at first settled in the backwoods; there he occupied a log-cabin, and by dint of labor cleared and cultivated the land. Then he erected a more comfortable dwelling, and gradually gained riches until finally he became affluent. Another commenced business in one of the larger cities, prospered, and became wealthy. But, lo! now death raps at his door, and he feels that he must die; he must take leave of all, and can not take even one penny with him!

No wonder that such a Christian, who, amid temporal cares, has abandoned the practices of devotion and of Christian zeal, sighs, with Agag, at the approach of death: “And dost thou part us thus, O bitter death?”

But how widely different the death of a child of the Church, who has led a fervent life, often thought of heaven, suffered, worked, and fought for it; who has already separated his heart from the transitory things of this world, and, on his death-bed, can joyfully exclaim, with David: “We enter with joy into heaven, to behold, to possess, and to enjoy the things of the Lord in the land of the living! ” Child of the Church, a similar death do I wish you. And what are the conditions? A zealous, truly Catholic life.

What furthermore renders the death-bed of the tepid Christian gloomy and fearful, is the inordinate attachment to blood relations. It is true there is a lawful, holy and sanctifying union among men, ties of relationship, friendship and virtue, and the heart must feel a pang at the moment of separation. But this sorrow will increase the merits of the dying Christian, because he resigns himself to the will of God; and, moreover, his sorrow is assuaged by the hope of a speedy reunion in heaven.

The lukewarm Christian experiences not this consolation; he feels only the grief of parting from those who are near and dear to him in this world. And again, how consoling for the fervent soul will be the thought: I take leave of my dearly loved ones on earth, but what an assembly waits to welcome me in heaven! I hope that very soon I shall be with Jesus and Mary, and all the angels and saints, with all my blessed friends and relations, who are anxiously looking forward to my entrance into the eternal joys. This thought gives comfort to the soul. A similar death do I wish you, my brethren; an active, Catholic, pious life will secure it for you.

The death-bed of a careless Christian is hemmed in with fear and anxiety, because the consolations of our holy religion have lost their power over him, and can not drive away the sadness of death. The tepid Christian may have confessed at times, but how? He felt no apprehension from his numerous relapses, and looked upon them as merely the result of human weakness. But now he becomes alarmed; were not these mortal sins into which he relapsed? Or, during life, he endeavored to persuade himself that he did not sin willfully; he did not consent. But now he fears that his confessions were not valid, because he did not express himself clearly as to this or that sin, or did not confess the number and circumstances, as he was obliged to do.

And what of his communions? Were they not, perhaps, unworthy, or sacrilegious communions? His preparations and thanksgivings were so short, so tepid, and, consequently, without effect. And now that he is to receive Holy Communion for the last time, his bodily sufferings will not permit him to dispose himself devoutly for the reception of the Blessed Sacrament as a preparation for his passage into eternity. He receives his last communion with fear and dread. But how unlike this is the death of him who, on this earth, has lived only for Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, who has received Him again and again, and each time more worthily, and who now receives his Lord, Redeemer, and the Spouse of his heart as the viaticum to eternal life! The priest places the Sacred Host upon his tongue, as a pledge of his salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord. Such a reception of the Holy Eucharist on your death-bed, do I wish you; your life,–a zealous, devout, Catholic life will decide.

What renders the hour of death terrible to a luke warm Christian, is the fear of death itself, and that which follows it the corruption of the body in the grave. Yes, to a petted worldling, who knows nothing of penance and mortification in this life, and who has always pampered his body, and gratified his senses, how dreadful the thought: What shall become of me in my last agony, when the cold sweat of death oozes from every pore, when death shall stretch my limbs? What, when all that remains of me on earth lies moldering in the grave, and is food for worms? It is not surprising that such thoughts fill the soul of an indifferent Christian with fear and distress! But how different the situation, if the dying person is one who has practised, during life, interior and exterior mortification, and who tastes not the bitterness of death, and looks forward to a glorious resurrection! The pious Christian remembers that it is only his body that lies within the grave, and that he shall one day find it again transformed and glorious, and be reunited to it for a blissful eternity.

What finally renders the death-bed of a lukewarm Christian fearful, is the thought of the coming judgment. When a soul is about to leave this world in a tepid and sinful state, even if after a good confession it is reinstated in grace, what a terror, what a fright, must weigh upon it, when, disfigured by the leprosy of countless venial sins, it appears before Christ, not knowing whether these sins may not be mortal! And how the soul will tremble when Christ is about to utter the sentence which will decide its fate for eternity!

Oh, could it but again return to the body, to lead a better, holier life! but then it will be too late, too late! May God preserve you from such anguish!

On the other hand, what a consolation and joy when a devout soul departs this life; and, freed from every stain of sin by the Holy Sacrament of Penance, hastens to the arms of its Redeemer, and, without passing through purgatory, enters at once into the joys of the Lord.

Either the one death or the other will be yours, and your life will decide! May God grant that it will not have been a lukewarm and indifferent, but a holy and virtuous life. Then to you may be applied the words of Holy Writ: “Precious in the sight of God is the death of His saints!” Amen!

“And they that carried it stood still.”–Luke 7.

“And they that carried it stood still.” Christ approaches the corpse, but He does not restore the deceased to life as long as the pall-bearers move on. “They that carried it stood still,” probably at a sign given by our Lord.

There is something very striking in this circumstance, if we consider attentively the miracle which Christ wrought at the gates of Naim, in its moral signification. For the raising of the dead to life has reference to the miracle of the conversion from sin to the state of grace, a change from the death of the soul through sin, to the spiritual life through grace.

The four pall-bearers typify four causes of the sinner's impenitence. These are: the proximate occasion of sin; want of prayer; familiar intercourse with sinners; and inordinate longing after enjoyment!

Yes, these are the four spiritual pall-bearers of the soul dead in sin, and as long as these do not stand still, so long will the funeral procession move on; and there can be no thought of a true conversion and spiritual resurrection. And although at times the sinner may appear to be converted, still we can very soon perceive, that, in the sight of God, he is still a corpse!

Let us today take a glance at the four pall-bearers of the soul dead in sin. Mary, refuge of sinners, pray for us, that we may awaken from the death of sin! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

The first pall-bearer which carries the dead soul of a sinner to its grave, is the proximate occasion of sin! How indispensably necessary the avoidance of the proximate occasion of sin is for a true conversion, can be readily deduced from the earnest and solemn words of Christ: “If thy eye scandalize thee, tear it out and cast it from thee; and if thy hand or foot scandalize thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee; for it is expedient for thee that one of thy members should perish, rather than that thy whole body go into hell.”

But, alas! how many deceive themselves in this respect, and imagine, if they but form the good resolution of not sinning again, it matters little whether they remain in the proximate occasion of sin; this, in their opinion, is no sin. But that is a delusion proceeding from their defective instruction. The remaining willfully in the occasion of sin, is already a sin; and if there is danger of mortal sins, the sin of remaining in the occasion becomes mortal; because to remain willfully therein, is to expose one's self willfully to sin, which is in itself an offense.

Experience verifies the warning of the Holy Ghost: “He who loveth danger, shall perish therein.” To remain in the occasion of sin, is like putting fire, if it be but a burning match, to straw, and then saying: I do not want the straw to burn. But it will burn nevertheless, and you will be the cause. This warning has reference especially to the lewd, to drunkards, and to those who are intimate with persons of loose morals.

The second cause of the sinner's remaining in the sleep of death,–the second pall-bearer of his soul, is the neglect of prayer and the Holy Sacraments. As a rule, persons commit grievous sins only after having first become careless in their prayers and in the reception of the Holy Sacraments. For these are the means of grace ordained by God, and these alone enable us to subdue temptations, and to practise virtue. There are many who sin continually, but at times they appear to be converted; and yet, how very soon they are again spiritual corpses! And why? They omit their morning and night prayers; do not attend divine service; neglect spiritual reading, and the reception of the Holy Sacraments.

We do not go too far in affirming: That all those who begin the day without prayer, who do not think of God during the day, and do not pray at night; who are careless in attending divine service, or do not go to church at all on Sundays and holidays; who are negligent in the reception of the Sacraments, all of these belong to the class of the spiritual dead. They may confess at times, and appear to do better; but until they begin earnestly to say their prayers, to attend divine service as is their duty, and do not receive the Holy Sacraments only at Easter time, but frequently during the course of the year, their conversion will not be a true one. They will very soon lead the old life of sin; nor will they improve in this respect, unless they perform the duties of their holy religion earnestly and fervently, and frequently approach the Holy Sacraments.

The third cause why sinners continue their life of sin–the third pall-bearer of the soul is, familiar intercourse with sinners, their society and company. With the wicked you will be wicked and remain so.

As long as a person does not avoid familiar intercourse with sinners, he will open his heart to numerous temptations, and the bad example of others will have a pernicious influence; upon him. The bad example of sinners may be compared to the diseases of the body. When one is near a sick person, or is obliged to wait on him, one is in great danger of becoming infected with the disease. Physicians who attend the sick, make their visits as brief as possible when the disease is contagious, and hurry away, lest they may become infected!

The same may be said of sinners, whose example proves contagious. Such sinners may justly be compared to lepers. From these you must flee, as Holy Scripture advises. This admonition is addressed particularly to young persons. If your conversion shall prove sincere and lasting, you must avoid familiar intercourse with sinners; otherwise you will soon recommence a life of sin.

The fourth bearer of the spiritual corpse is inordinate longing for enjoyments –the love of sensual, boisterous pleasure, such as balls, plays, and noctural amusements; the reading of bad books, and especially the excessive use of spirituous liquors. Woe to him who already, from his youth, becomes addicted to drink, to frequent gin-shops,–is and gradually becomes a confirmed sot!

Oh! how seldom it occurs that an habitual drunkard is truly converted, that he avoids every occasion of intemperance, and remains faithful to his good resolutions! How often such persons, who, perchance, are not addicted to any other vice, seem to amend and still they do not really change; they lead the same intemperate life! And how sad are the consequences, both for body and soul! They ruin their health, destroy their domestic peace, and are living in the greatest danger of dying unprepared.

Is there, perhaps, a sinner among us whom these four bearers are carrying? Oh! I wish I could today cause them to stand still. For only then will your conversion be sincere, and, by the mouth of the priest, Christ will bid you: “Rise!” and you will be restored to the life of grace.

This standing still reminds us, moreover, of another very important fact. If we wish to be justified in hoping that ours was a true conversion, we must be able to refer to some period of our life, and say: Since that confession–it was a general confession–I did not relapse!

Rejoice, if your conscience gives you this testimony; you are in the right state, and you will be prepared to appear before God, and you will live in Him eternally! Amen!

#15 sunday after pentecost

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kuuderepunkin · 4 years ago

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Match up

A match up for @obsessedwithgems <3 <3 <3

Due to technical difficulties I will not be including her description of herself (but if you want I can add it, love)

Hazbin Hotel matchup: Sir Pentious

Man it was a hard draw to decide who to pair you with in Hazbin Hotel but I think the thing that pushed me towards Sir Pentious is your love for snakes, not just cause he’s a lovable snake boy, but it helped me choose between him and Angel Dust. But I think he’d be a better fit just because his little Egg minions would also be a part of your relationship, either to run errands for you or to keep you entertained and happy. Angel Dust is super shippable with people so I was trying to balance where your needs would fall in a relationship (his sexuality slightly worked against him, too) and I do think that having the little crowd of Egg boys would bring a little more joy to your world, while Angel dust himself may drain your overly giving personality. But as I always say! I’m an advocate for loving who you love! So if you like another character? Go for it, my matchups are just based on my opinion of how you and a fictional character meld well- but any couple can work to be a loving relationship <3 . Also a lot of the characters from Hazbin can be jerks but he’s less of a jerk and more of a show off I think, he’d never do you wrong.

He’s confident enough to break through your shy exterior, he’s loud and bold and will just pull you into a conversation so you don’t have to worry about starting it.

100% with you on being outgoing and being a bit reckless, he gets so excited he loses his common sense. But he’s more likely to get hurt than you would be.

He loves being adventurous with you, but he’s a chaotic entity so I can only imagine the laughs you get out of your adventures but it’s therapeutic.

If you start crying for any reason he stops his ridiculous antics to slither to your side and comfort you. No moment wasted.

Pentious wraps his tail around you and gently holds you gently caressing your back and running his hand through your hair and gently speaking trying to calm you down.

If you don’t want him to see you crying he’ll slither away and come back with one of the egg minions and some water. He doesn’t want you to be alone but knows it might be embarrassing to you for him to see you so upset. But it’s important to stay hydrated especially when you’ve cried. He will do everything he can to make it as painless as possible, it’s okay to cry and having feelings is natural and nothing you should feel ashamed about.

There are so many egg boys that you will not forget to care about yourself, and Sir Pentious will not allow you to not care and maintain your own well being! Your helpful nature is appreciated but you have to care for yourself, and he makes that a rule for you because it’s Hell and he doesn’t want just anybody taking advantage of you.

The egg boys will treat you like their mother, which is endearing and frustrating? But you do well with children so it shouldn’t be too much different. It’s sweet though, they bring you gifts and draw stuff for you. And they give you lots of love.

If you’re ever crying they run up to you and ask what’s wrong and they hug you, it’s very cute, you’re never alone with these bubbly dorks. And for your touch related trauma- the good thing is you can tell it’s one of the eggs hugging you, they’re small and oval- it’s easy to tell that it’s them. But they’re not familiar enough for you sir Pentious will scold them and tell them to stay away! No sneaking up on their momma queen!

When sleeping at night it can either be you and Pentious alone cuddling, his large tail making a little dam around you, keeping your warmth in and making you feel secure.

But all the same, if you’re alright with a couple of the eggs joining you they’re like teddy bears, they scatter around the bed and almost sleep like pets by your legs or hugging Pentious’ tail.

Pentious’ long arms will be wrapped around your body, keeping you close to his chest with his head on yours.

And while you may be tougher than you look, you are regarded as his queen! He cannot allow his lover to be in the front line of battle, and not fighting with the riff raf in Hell. He knows all too well you can take care of yourself- you probably beat him up once because he thought you were so cute saying you could handle yourself- but even so he doesn’t like the idea of letting you out alone. It’s not in an obsessive way- it’s just hell is dangerous and he’s a kind of big part in the territory wars so you may have a big target on your back.

So he’ll send one of his minions with you if you leave without him, but that’s so he knows where to find you, the eggs aren’t great at combat in the first place and he respects your skills. It’s just a safety net.

Pentious will ask you to sing to him, looking like a begging puppy because he really wants to hear your beautiful voice. Even if you don’t think it’s amazing he will disagree with you on that aspect. “A butterfly can’t see their own vibrant colors! You’re the butterfly in this analogy…. and your singing is your wings-“ he’s only explaining because he realized the analogy might be about beauty and not talent and he confused himself. But he’s so proud that I will not admit that he’s wrong!

He will let you hold the end of his tail and play with it idly as the two of you talk, or he’s busy doing a villainous monologue. Or if you would prefer you can carry an egg around like it would be a teddy bear.

One last thing- he loves to put his top hat on you and watch it slide down your forehead because it’s too big. It makes him giggle.

Steven Universe match up: Sour Cream

Alright another hard debate but this time because there’s so many good options. Sour cream could really align with some of your interests and he’s a great significant other but I feel like he may have a different emotional expression? From the way he reacted to Steven’s problems kind of makes me think he will struggle with deep emotional struggles you may have- but also that doesn’t mean he can’t be a good lover. And then Pink Pearl would line up with your interests as well, she loves to learn new things, just like her diamond she loved nature and the likes. And she could make you happy- the two of you could work together to take care of each other and help each other heal and grow. She will help you learn the value of taking care of yourself even when helping others. She would love to have fun with you, too. Signing, dancing, doing art, teaching and learning piano with you, it all seems like so much fun to her! And to get to spend time with you! Those all make her so happy. But I ran myself into a circle again! Idk who would fit with you better in a match up. That last push towards Sour Cream was your love of horror and your aesthetic, I feel like he would better understand them. Pearl would love to dress up with you and mimic your style but I don’t know if she would understand how it would fit into self expression, and I feel like horror might scare her a little too much. All the while Sour Cream loves the macabre and mysterious!

Sour Cream himself is pretty quiet despite how sociable he is, so it’s easy to approach him or have him come to chat with you. He loves talking to people, but he likes the underdogs so if he sees you shying away he would love to approach you.

When he approaches you he probably complements your glasses and hair, and how it really vibes with your style! Honestly it probably inspires him to make some new music more attuned to the cas emo vibes.

He is ecstatic when you finally open up and become adventurous because he’s ready to have fun and party with you!

And the party doesn’t have to be with tons of people, just the two of you going on some wacky adventures or going exploring and just having some fun!

He would love to go to abandoned places with you, making some fun youtube videos or tiktoks. Going exploring in forests and having fun in nature sounds like a ball to him. He may be a techy guy but he loves doing new and exciting things with you.

Sour Cream is no stranger to crying, he’s had these feelings of hopelessness when it came to his family and then his career- so I think he understands how best to help you.

When you need to be alone and let it out he will just slide you some snacks and water and kiss your forehead and whisper he’s there for you when you’re ready to talk.

If you wouldn’t mind his company he’s there rubbing the back of your hand and back. Water and snacks all in toe, he probably stores them in his massive pockets ngl.

While you’re easy to fluster, he thinks it’s pretty cute! He will try to make you blush but not to the point of making you dizzy, he just thinks you're so adorable!

Heck yeah powerful women! He’s so hype for you kicking butt and he has no doubt that you can be cute, hardcore, and kick ass. Sour Cream is your hype man, and biggest fan, he’ll ask you to show him some moves! If you were okay with it!

Showing him some of your self defense moves can lead to a cuddle pile or a light tickle fight because it’s just the two of you having fun, he thinks your skills are cool and not something he wants to challenge you at- he’s just curious.

Sour Cream totally gets the insecurity, he has it but has slowly learned how to deal with it. But when he first got into DJing and with the doubt of his step dad, it really weighed on him. So he knows how to help you face those negative feelings.

Everyone is different on how they handle being insecure but he is always there to be your hype man, and he just lets you know you may not think greatly of yourself but it doesn’t mean you’re not doing spectacular things!

He loves your singing and asks if you wouldn’t mind him adding some of your vocal tracks into his DJ stuff.

Sour Cream doesn’t touch without consent, like even holding your hand he asks- though as the relationship grows the way he asks may be more non verbal, like him bumping your hands with his to show he’d like to hold your hand and let you make the first move. But he always makes sure he’s not crossing any boundaries.

He’s a big cuddle bug, he’s tall and loves to be the big spoon and hug you and curl up. But if you wanted to be the big spoon he’s like “!” He never thought of all those possibilities; it opens new cuddling doors! He’s so excited and 10/10 loves any affection.

Making you laugh is one of his favorite things to do, he loves to see you happy and full of life, so when you start feeling detached and down he will notice and will move to supportive boyfriend mode.

He knows you drain yourself by helping others, and helping him at times, so he tries to be the best help for you.

As your relationship grows he picks up how you help him and will translate it to help you when you need a pick me up.

Will do his best to give you tips when learning guitar, he knows a few friends who play so he’ll ask them for pointers that he can then give to you. Or if you’re cool meeting his friends and practicing with them he will have a small get together, but there’s no pressure and if you get too anxious he will make an excuse for you so you don’t feel bad about anything.

He loves horror and honestly he loves a lot of things, this dude is full of admiration and childish awe but it’s all pure. Horror is fun and exciting, it gives him that adrenaline rush. Mystery gets him thinking and discussing different theories with you. Romance makes him mushy and he hugs into you and sometimes he will be extra chessy if you watch a romance flick because it makes him think you want more affection and he really loves to give it.

Undertale match up: Muffet

I hope you’re not afraid of spiders, Muffet is such a cute girlfriend and you two would mesh so well in my opinion. I do think monster spiders are a bit different from real spiders, I mean they’re cute in the game so I can just picture them like the Totoro dust sprites. So rather than hairy and spiny legs think soft and cuddly. I can’t say it enough Muffet needs more love, she’s super cute and full of love to give.

She’s got so many hands to hold, she will let you point at one to hold (I’ve seen this in a comic and I can’t get it out of my head, it’s so cute) and they could be switched out if your arm gets too tired she can wrap her arms around you.

Loves to comb through and brush your hair, if you’ll let her she’ll try different hairstyles on you. For your goth/emo style she’ll even try to make it fit your aesthetic, maybe doing some macabre braiding with some fun fabric intertwined.

Heck if you’ll let her she’ll do your makeup, match it with whatever you want, you want it not to be heavy but to give you the intense emo look. Or if you want to look like a goth rock icon she’ll do that! With as many hands as she has it’s easy to get it done, she gently rests her palm on your chin and delicately tilts your head to do your makeup.

Muffet would adore if you would sing with her, she won’t make you sing for her on your own until you get more comfortable with her because it puts you on the spot. But once you get accustomed to her she would love if you sang to her, she might not be able to help herself and join in. It’s like singing along to your favorite song.

If you ever express your opinion about your singing being bad she will lightly argue with you, it’s a disagreement and she will explain it as people having a different opinion on music. While you may think your singing is your most hated genre to her is operatic and beautiful! And she will present the fact you’ve gotten awards, so people agree that you have a beautiful voice and are a work of art. She doesn’t push it like it’s a fact, but more so that you may not see your strengths but that others do.

Loves to hang your art, if you don’t like your stuff hanging around the house you two may share, she will put it in her room or keep it with her while she works.

You’re never alone when you’re with Muffet, even if she’s not there with you if you seem to be down one of her spiders will give her a heads up and she’ll come to your side to comfort you.

She loves to cuddle and while you two lay down together she likes to play with your hair and look at your hands, just taking them in her own and comparing them. You’re so interesting to her, Muffet isn’t used to seeing many humans and to be quite frank she doesn’t care too much to meet too many.

She likes you because of your disposition, your aesthetic, and your interests. Being a human is just another fascinating fact. Your gothic/emo look kind of aligns with her own so she’s excited to discuss fashion with you! Muffet and her spiders will likely create you some fun fashionable gothic clothing based on what you tell her you’re interested in. Or she’ll pick up on the minuscule things that are similar within your favorite outfits.

Being a spider means she loves the outdoors, broken down, and abandoned locations so going on hikes with you is super refreshing and fun for her.

She’s so good at comforting you, she’s soft and gentle when speaking, she caresses you gently and knows what to say in tough moments. Gently combing her hands in your hair, and gently scratching your scalp and wiping away your tears.

She is a wonderful listener and will let you tell her anything, never making you feel ashamed of your emotions- they’re natural after all. And she wants you to know how much she values you and that you haven’t got to feel bad for being who you are. She loves you.

When you’re blushing she loves to take your face and cup it into her hands and gently squish your cheeks because it’s so cute!

Don’t you worry about talking to strangers, she can have her spiders handle that for you, any errands you need, they’re very helpful.

If you want to play with something idly her hand is a good option, it’s romantic and it’s more fun than just playing with your own hand. If you want you can play with two hands, or three!! Honestly as many hands as you would like.

#gif #matchmaker #I always forget how I tag these other than those #>:0 I hope you like these tho!!!#match ups #Match-ups

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a-copper-butterfly · 5 years ago

Text

Fanfic snippet

i did a thing

yeah i wrote something. this is like an idea that im building on, may be. i dont know. if you think i should continue this, like it.

Chapter 1: A visit from the Baron

world count : 2580

Charlie/Alistair Husk/Angel Dust

Charlie pouted at Alistair as he laughed at his own joke the laugher track poured out of his mic. He turned around to look at her plan. Husk was trying to snack back the bottle she had used to weight the corner of the page down. Vaggie slapped his hand away. He growled at her. Angel leaned again the back across from Husk pretending not to listen to Charlie.

“well dear,” Alistair asked “what gotten you so excited?” Charlie Bounced on the spot. Ginning madly,

“we have to wait for Nifty, is a surprise for all of you,” Alistair smiled with hooded eyes and lifted his arm. Charlie reached out to stop him snagging his sleeve but not his hand. He snapped his fingers and a hole formed in the celling. Nifty shrieked as she fell though it. She quickly got up and zipped over to the group. Charlie tried to glower at Alistair for being mean but a sudden shout interrupted her.

“BOY!”

The shout echoed around the lobby and everyone stopped. Turning towards the sources of the sound. The door to the hotel was open and a cold wind blow through, which was impressive in it self as this was hell and noted for its hot climate.

A tall man stood in the door way. His Black suite was picked out with red highlights and a number of knickknacks hang from the red belt at his wait. They chimed mutely in a wind that blows behind him. The top hat on his head remined her of Alistair’s, but this one had feathers and what look like chicken bones stuck in it. It was ringed with small skulls. His skin was as black as night seeming to draw light in to it. This contrasted with the bright white skull that was pained on the top half of his face, leaving his lower jaw bare. His bony hands rested on a back cane in front of him it was topped with a silver skull. He was not from this place. The wide grin on his faces was more mischief than evil. The smell of cigars waffled through the room as his words died away. His eyes glowed like the fires of hell but Charlie knew no fire like it and they where locked on the little gathering by the desk. Namely Alistair’s red and pinstriped back.

The static that normal filled the air around Alistair has flat lined. The singe motional sound was more eerie than the normal crackle. His face was frozen in a smug grin but his eyes where unfocused. He hadn’t turned around at the shout.

Angel recovered first,

“who’s this flash looking Motherfu…” his sentence was cut short by Husk almost jumping over the bar to cover his mouth. The genuine fear on the bartenders faces stopped the Spider demon form struggling.

Vaggie already had her spear out but her eyes where darting form man in the door way to Alistair waiting to, although unwillingly, follow his lead. Nifty was clinging to her leg visibly shaking. Her one eye unblinking as it stared at the man.

Charily who was still holding Alistair’s sleeve frowned and looked up at him. He was still frozen. She was about to speak when the sudden sound of radio static picked up again.

Alistair whirled around arms thrown wide grin on his face but the audiences track on his mic was silent.

“Baron!” he exclaimed began to make his was over to the other man. There was a tension in his movement that Charlie had never seen before. “what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I bring you news, now are you gonna invite me in or are we gonna talk out in the cold all night?” the mans grin remained on his faces but his voice managed to send chill up Charlies back. Vaggie had pushed Nifty behind the bar with Husk and was inching in front of Angel and Charlie, she didn’t like this man ether. But that may also be because Alistair seemed to know him, not just the bad vibes he was giving off.

Then Alistair did something Charlie never though she would see. He bowed to the other man, a genuine bow not a flamboyant way of mocking him but a show of respect.

“Of course, Sir, you are always welcome here,” if it wasn’t for the amp on his voice the gang may not have heard that.

The so called “Baron” stepped though the threshold of the Hotel and a cold wind followed him.

“you got anywhere for us to chat, lad you’re not gonna like what I have to say,” The Baron didn’t remove his hat and he walked with a slight strut. His foot print left marks on the floor. Alistair’s ears flicked downward for half a second. But his grin remained I place,

“this way, we can sit in the study,” with a dramatic swish of his coat tails Alistair turned and began to lead the stranger to one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor.

The mans gin was still in places when he turned to the little group by the counter.

“bring the little lady,” he said like an after though, “this affects her as well.” he breezed past Alistair into the room.

Alistair looked over at Charly she could see his ears slightly twitching, she wondered what emotion he was trying to hide.

“Charlie my dear, would you come here for a moment please.” he called. Vaggie gave her the side eye, daring her to trot over to him like a good little puppy, Charlie shrugged sheepishly at her. As she slowly, to prove a point, walked over to Alistair she looked at the foot prints the Baron had left. it looked like dirt, lose, wet dirt fresh from the ground like he had just walked though a pile of earth. She frowned at the mess, Nifty would throw a fit over this. Then she remembered the way the small cleaner had cowered at the sight of the tall man, I think she if fine to leave it for now.

She scowled at Alistair as she slipped passed him into the room. Alistair closed the door behind her with a resounding thud. She suddenly felt trapped.

The Baron was reclining in a winged back chair facing them, his legs where crossed and Charlie could see the caked mud on his shiny black shoes. She pouted at the mess he had left leading up to the chair. Alistair walked further into the room his hands behind his back, his smirk in places. But now that they where out of the prying eye of the lobby his smugness was losing it strength. The Baron observed the two as Charlie was guided to a small sofa facing him. Alistair remained standing behind her laying a hand on her shoulder. The hand could be seen as comforting, reassuring her that he was with her in the situation but it could also be seen as stopping her form running.

“sweet heart may I introduces Baron Samedi,” he smiled sweetly at Charlie as he gestured at the newly named Baron Samedi, who smiled and gave her a friendly nod. “Baron may I introduces Princess Charlotte Magne of hell, and manager of this fine establishments.” The Baron Laughed out loud and Charlie tried to stop her polite smile form dropping,

“so you’re the one who came up with this kooky idea,” he slapped his thighs and threw his head back.

The laughed continued. Charlie was really struggling to keep a polite face on. A twitch from the hand on her shoulder made her look up at Alistair, his face hadn’t changed but the slight vibration running through his ears suggested he was getting very irritated with this man. Why he was showing restraint now was worrying.

As his laughing died down, the Baron he sat up stair in his chair.

“I though it was a little out of character for the lad, but it’s an interesting idea, redemption and all that. I myself am in the reincarnation business.” At this Charlie brighten up smiling widely and wiggling in her seat,

“really that’s amazing, how do you pick who gets reincarnated have you ever taken anyone form hell?” she had a hundred more questions on her tongue but Alistair tighten his gip on her shoulder and the Baron waving his hand made her stop. That hand may not have been for comfort alter all.

“but that not what I came here to talk about,” the Baron was staring at Alistair again, “I need to talk to you boy, but I’m not doing it when your covered in shadows,” Charlie felt the hand slip from her shoulder,

“Any way to change your mind?” she heard the demon next to her say, it was without his normal energy. the Baron leaned his elbows on his knees and shook his head. Charlie heard Alistair sigh,

“very well,” he said and suddenly the room was full of wind. It swept past her, blowing her hair everywhere. The shadows on the walls that flowed Alistair everywhere where being affected by this mystical gale as well. they writhed and snatched at nothingness before being dragged towards the door and out of the room. The baron just sat there unaffected by this. the light in the room flickered and then when out plunging the room into darkness.

Charly had to use both hands the swipe the hair out of her face when as quickly as it had started the gale stopped. She looked around her eyes not yet accustom to the dark. The hiss of a match being lit caught her attention the white skull on the Baron’s face was momentary illuminated by the flair of the match as he lit a fat cigar. He took a pull, the ember at the end lighting his faces again. It was then that Charlie noticed it, well rather noticed the lack of noise. The static that followed Alistair around much like his shadows was gone. She was shocked to find herself panicking, where was he. had the Baron done something to him. She could feel the panic turning into rage as she looked around franticly for Alistair. The cling of glass made her turn to one of the corners,

“Drink my dear?” it was Alistair’s voice but it was different. It didn’t have the chatty nature or volume it normally had, it was softer, less jarring and almost peace full. The relief that flooded her system nearly made her sag into the chair but she could still feel the Barons eyes on her in the gloom,

“Err, yes please,” she replied. There was a cling of glass a second time and she could feel the air around her move.

The Baron took another pull of his cigar lighting the small bubble by his face. A hand appeared holding a glass of what looked like whisky. The hand was pale and the cuff of a brown jacket covered the arm. No claws tipped its fingers, it jerked away form the light when the baron took the offered glass.

“why so shy boy?” he said a light chuckle in his voice. Charlie felt the hand on her shoulder again and nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked up at where she though Alistair might be. Why was he being shy? What was he hiding? The hand slipped down her arm and lifted it at the elbow, he pressed a cold glass into her hand. Oh yes, her drink. she smiled up at Alistair his hands where a little colder than normal but she could feel the smooth skin where as she had only ever felt his gloves.

“thank you,” she muttered trying to make out his shape in the dark. she felt the sofa next to her dip as he sat down.

“with the grates respected Baron, Your Business?” The Baron was back to laughing again. Alistair’s voice was soothing like this but it was also unnerving, when she had gotten use to the static and the laughed track, just hearing his pure unaffected voice was strange. She took a sip of her drink, it was whisky, not her favour but she needed it at this point. Her eyes where gradually focusing in the dark room she looked over at the demon and noticed one thing. He didn’t have his ears.

“another blooded soul has dropped into my care,” the Baron said when he had finished laughing. Charlie could feel the tension pouring off Alistair now. The Baron seemed to know this but took a pull form his cigar again, “and another on the way,” Charlie could make out clear shaped now. The Baron had his legs over the arm of the chair and was blowing smoke up into the rafters. A measured breath from Alistair pulled her back to him,

“how old?” he asked quietly,

“the one here already or the one on her way?” The Baron asked all the mirth from his previous conversations had gone,

“both,” it was a short answer. The Baron shifted in his seat,

“the youngest had just seen her fifth summer, the oldest has seen about twelve,” another wave of smoke nearly made Charlie cough.

“curse form birth?” another short and to the point question.

“of course they are, boy, otherwise they would be no threat.” The creek of the Chair alerted Charlie to the Baron standing up. Alistair jumped up from next to her “Look, I’m only here to warn you. This isn’t my area I’m just the messenger here. So do what you think is best. Destroy them or whatever.” She could feel the Baron grin, “you’re always saying you would like more of a challenge. What better to challenge you than yourself” he began to laugh again.

The wind was back again. It was coming from the other direction this time. Charlie was nearly blown off the sofa. when she had pulled the hair out of her eyes again the lights where up and Alister was standing grinning at the Baron. The static was back. It was almost comforting.

“well Baron it has been a pleasure as always.” He bowed again as he said this. The Baron grinned,

“you should join us for a party at some point lad, the misses would love to see ya again,” he chucked “you can bring your princess, its been a while since the Guédé family have dined with royalty.”

He began to laugh louder this time. The wind whipped around his feet it seemed to be full of ash. It began to cover his body as he laughed before long he was completely enveloped in the ashy wind. The moment his laughter faded the wind stopped, dropping a layer of ash onto the carpet along with his muddy foot prints.

The Door was kicked open by Vaggie less than two seconds later. Nifty who seemed to have gotten over her fear zipped into the room, made a unholy screech and began to clean up the mess. Vaggie was beside Charlie,

“what happened? where is the creepy skull man?” Angel and Husk where wisely staying by the door. Alistair was still watching where the Baron had been. Abruptly he turned and walked out of the room pushing past the two men at the door.

“jeez what’s gotten into him?” Angel asked crossing his arms as he leaned on the door frame.

#hazbin vaggie #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin niffty #hazbin hotel #hazbin demon #hazbin radio demon #charlastor #charlie x alastor #huskerdust #husk x angel dust #fanfic

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starblazerm31 · 5 years ago

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Azalea/Imalia Apprentice April Asks #2

Man, I did myself in on this one! It only took me the whole week! So many "Whoa...I haven't come up with that yet..." But that's the point of these asks! To develop characters! Thanks so so much to @samjmorgan, @mechaspirit, and the several anons for sending me asks! I hope you like my answers! Once again, novel below the cut. XP

1. What does your character feel when they see their LI for the first time each day?

Julian: He's always awake before her, but won't move until she does. As soon as her bleary eyes see him, she smiles; that warm blossoming feeling filling her chest. Her beautiful disaster is alive, well, and right where she left him. She wraps her arms and legs around him and pulls him in tight for a full-body hug. "Good morning, angel," he whispers to her.

Lucio: Their connection usually has them waking up at the same time. Even with a messy bedhead, Lucio makes Azalea's heart flutter the moment she lays eyes on him. His skin is warm and soft, and it gets cute little goosebumps as soon as she touches him. Lucio. Her Lucio. *Que make-out session.* Morning breath? Meh, who cares.

Her sleep is sporadic due to her nightmares, and she wakes up multiple times during the night. Every time her eyes land on Asra next to her, her heart rate slows down and she drifts back off to sleep. When it's finally time to get up, however, she will whimper and pull him close, letting her deep emotions and love spill over to him. He's been the longest constant in her hellish life, and she's just so happy to have him next to her. To be able to call him hers.

2. What things does your character love about their LI?

Julian: She LOVES how smart he is. She feels like she can have an actual intelligent conversation with him about absolutely (well...almost) anything. He askes intellectual questions about magic and she is more than happy to go on a spiel about the little intricacies and science behind magic. And she loves to ask him about medicine and how the human body works. It ends up benefitting both of them in their respective professions. She also loves how he towers over her but will fall to his knees in an instant.

Julian loves Azalea’s stubbornness. Once she gets her mind set on something, it’s gonna go her way. (she snagged him, didn’t she?) He absolutely loves it when she throws off all of her inhibitions and goes on a night run across the rooftops. He can’t keep up with her when she’s elevated. The sky is her playground, and it makes her look even more angelic to him. He adores the way she speaks to him and holds him when he’s feeling stressed. She’s so soothing and comforting, and she won’t let him go until he asks.

Lucio: She loves his energy and excitement. He's not the smartest pickle in the jar, but he can match her when it comes to being active. Running races, playing sexy hide-and-seek, sparring...he's the only person in the world who can wear her out. And he has been the most encouraging person to her. His wonder and awe when he watches her do magic makes her feel as awesome as he says she is. And he loves it when she reads one of her new stories to him. He sits there, riveted by the images she's weaving with her words.

Lucio loves how completely and utterly kind she is to him. She actually listens to him and encourages him, believes in him. No one has ever done that before.

Imalia loves everything about Asra. She loves how beautiful his magic is. Watching him cast leaves her utterly spellbound. The glowing swirls, the glittering lights, the musical trills his magic makes. It is unlike anything Imalia has ever experienced. She loves how she can talk about anything and Asra immediately seems to understand. Magical theories, sacred geometry and leylines, blessed and cursed artifacts, enchantments, ancient incantations...he is just as invested and curious as she. She can teach him a new spell and he can get it right almost immediately as well as understand it. And he is the most calming presence she could be around. If her anxiety is flaring up or if she had a particularly nasty nightmare, Asra can calm her down within minutes.

Asra loves how giving and encouraging Imalia is. She spends so much time learning new things only to turn around and share her knowledge with even more enthusiasm. She simply can't keep knowledge to herself. And she would gladly give her life to save someone she loves.

3. What things about their LI annoy them?

Julian: He can still be a spastic dumbass. And sometimes he will go on these long tirades about how he just doesn't deserve to be with her. She will let him get his grievances out, and then calmly explain WHY he is wrong. And he has this really annoying habit of leaving his dirty socks right beside the laundry hamper. And Julian tends to leave cups of cold, unfinished coffee just lying around the place. As for Azalea herself, she tends to think that he doesn't always understand what she is talking about, so she will spend too much time re-explaining a concept he already knows. And sometimes she can be a little to micro-managey when it comes to stuff around the shop.

Lucio: As above, spastic dumbass. He also has absolutely NO idea or sense of money management. And he can be lazy. And if she's spending too long on her shop's expenses/cleaning, or if she's reading and not paying enough attention to him, Lucio will start to whine and flop around like a little kid. Azalea herself still has a few trust issues with Lucio on certain things like money. He’s so used to lavish things and sometimes needs reminding that Azalea’s shop doesn’t bring in THAT kind of revenue. Azalea KNOWS Lucio doesn’t understand what she’s talking about sometimes, so the re-explaining isn’t so bad. But it does bore Lucio. He can’t help but feel put-out with Azalea’s micro-managing. He wishes she would just sell the shop and move them back into the Palace since she is Court Magician.

Asra still likes to run off on his own without giving any specifics about where/what he's doing. The running off is fine, but Imalia would at least like an idea of what he's planning. Just in case he might need some help. Her worst fear is for him to get in trouble and need her, but she isn't there.

4. Who does what chores?

Julian: Azalea handles the cooking, laundry, and cleaning the floors. Julian handles the dusting (putting that height to good use!) and the dishes. They both do random little fix-its around the shop, but Azalea is better at it since she had spent three years randomly alone. Azalea loves Julian's expressions when she climbs on the roof and hangs upside down to fix a shingle or the shop’s sign. He’s trying to catch a glimpse of his favorite boob.

Lucio: (assuming he is no longer Count and lives with her at the shop) OMG this lazy bum. It took Azalea a while to get him used to the idea of washing his own clothes, and even longer to teach him how to do it right. She still takes care of cooking (he is NOT allowed!) and the floors, but they share dusting duty. And she taught him how to fix things. The first time he got a chair to stop wobbling, she had to stop him from throwing open the windows and yelling "I AM THE FIX-IT KING!!!" to the entire neighborhood. She also gave him a job as shop courier. He needed to learn how to earn his living. Also took him a while to figure out how to deliver orders without breaking anything. 😒

Well, Imalia has servants at her estate, so she doesn't really NEED to do any chores. But she's not the lazy type, and will at the very least cook for herself and the entire household. She likes seeing their faces when they taste her latest atroci-uh dish. In seriousness, she's a pretty decent cook. Asra will usually gather reagents and ingredients they will need in their magical research. As far as household chores, he keeps the windows clean. He loves how the sunlight filters in through the stained glass.

5. Do they prefer to stay at home, or do they like to go out?

Julian: Being the working stiffs they are, they will usually stay at home. But a few times a week they will head down to the Rowdy Raven for a good time, or visit with their friends. Azalea does eventually become Imalia's apprentice again and gets tutored three times a week; they will usually go out somewhere as a group afterward.

Lucio: Lucio, being the exhausting booger he is, has to go out and mingle with people. So they will typically go out when the workday is done. When Azalea becomes Imalia's apprentice again, Lucio is encouraged to do ANYTHING else but come along. (Imalia and Lucio dated for three years, and that ended badly; so she tries to steer clear of him) It doesn't always work, however, because Lucio is nosy and he remembers how well Imalia's head-of-household Ben made desserts.

Since she and Asra both like to travel, they typically go out somewhere. Even if they stay at home they will be traveling the Magical Realms.

6. What are some little things they do for each other throughout the day?

Julian: She will make him coffee and prepare him lunch to take to the clinic with him. She will leave him little notes in the lunch telling him how amazing he is and how much she loves him. If he is working late, she brings him dinner. He will tie little notes to Malak's leg for her to receive, or bring her flowers when he gets off work. He has also become the new bearer-of-pumpkin bread. When he gets home, she will sit him down in a chair and give him a shoulder and back rub or draw him a nice hot bath.

Lucio: She keeps a full cookie jar for him. She keeps the pantry stocked with food he likes and will cook it just perfect for him. She also whispers dirty little nothings in his ear and will give him sneaky butt pinches. He needs to know he's wanted, after all! If his prosthetic is bothering him, she will help soothe the irritation. He will give her random shoulder rubs and neck nibbles and will make sure Corva's food and water are always full. He also likes to blow most of his money on random gifts for her.

She will paint Asra's nails while telling him lots of "no shit, there I was" stories. Smoking green with him while reading, going on long walks with him, and constantly praising him. Asra will wash Imalia's hair when they bathe together and give her amazing scalp massages to ease away tension. He also loves to brush her hair and come up with new braid configurations for the top of her head.

7. What are some private jokes they share?

Julian: There was this one time when they were adventuring overseas and they wanted to grab something to eat before they set out to investigate this temple that Imalia had told them about. It was supposed to have this magical jar that could hold a human soul. The only vendor in the town they were in sold this strange grilled fruit on a stick that smelled absolutely awful. They still ate them and it didn't taste too terrible. But it strangely filled them with energy and they made it through the temple just fine. Now when they see kebabs, they look at each other and snicker. Also, when they pass a haberdasher and see a nice pirate-style hat, Julian will pass Azalea a quirked eyebrow and grin.

Lucio: Whenever Azalea hears a goat bleat, she will glance to Lucio and snicker because his laugh sounds exactly the same. Lucio will laugh like a madman when Corva will imitate Azalea's frustrated "Fucking hell!" He also taught her how to say "Mama's ass" in his accent. Lucio: "Ey, Corva, what's the solution to this problem?" Corva: "Mama's ass!" Azalea: "OMG!!!" *blush* Corva: "Fucking hell!"

She and Asra have run afoul of a few bandit gangs with the most ridiculous names. So now when they hear of bandits causing trouble, Asra will say "Is it The Fighting Dragon's Blood Macho Men again?" Imalia: *snarfs her drink* "It might be the Serpent's Hand." Asra: *laughs out loud* Faust: ?

8. What are some embarrassing couple stories?

Julian: One time Azalea was bringing him lunch at work, and the thank-you kiss became rather intense. A patient came in, and Julian realized that he had gotten...ahem...excited. He had to come up with a lame excuse to give himself time to calm down.

Lucio: One time he and Azalea were toking up in the loft of the shop when Nadia came in. It was a new strain that was really potent, and Lucio couldn't hide the fact that he was high as hell. When he tried to follow Azalea down the stairs, he lost his balance and tumbled the rest of the way down, ending up in a pile at Nadia's feet. He instantly blurted out in a loud exaggerated whisper: "Azzie, don't tell Noddy that I'm high!!" Nadia: "Don't worry Lucio, I will never find out." Lucio: "Good. Hey, Azzie, are we gonna screw when she leaves?" Azalea: "....Omg...I am so sorry, Nadia." Nadia: "It's alright, you took him off of my hands after all." (I'd draw this if I could XD)

One time she and Asra started "getting down" in her study. They were so focused on each other that they didn't notice Ben come in and set down a tray of refreshments for them. When they were done, Imalia noticed the tray and said "How long has that been there?" Asra: "I don't know...I swear it wasn't there before...we..." Imalia: "...Shit, Ben, why do you have to be such a ninja?" They couldn't look him in the eye at dinner that night.

9. Is their relationship open or exclusive?

Julian/Lucio: Exclusive. Azalea gives her heart to one person only. Her love envelopes her lover and all she longs for is them. More than one person would feel mediocre and cheap because she would have to divide her love. She loves with everything she is. And it turns out that both Julian and Lucio get really jealous at the thought of sharing her.

Imalia and Asra are exclusive and deeply committed to each other; but they would have a threesome if they met someone who struck both of their fancies. That hasn't happened yet, however.

10. How often do they need to be intimate?

Julian: They need to be intimate at least twice a week. Jobs can be stressful, and they need to relieve that stress. Azalea is all too happy to indulge Julian's desires, and he is happy to service her needs in return. He's amazing at following direction. ^_~

Lucio: Sex is a daily occurrence with them. Rarely, they will have had such an exhausting and busy day that sex just wasn't in the schedule...but rarely. More often than not, it's vanilla sex. But they make an effort to have several spicy sessions a week. There have been weeks where they went at it a little rough at the beginning, and they were too sore to keep up their normal routine. Those were sad weeks.

At the very least they have sex once a week; however sex can happen at the drop of a hat with these two. Anywhere, anytime. The longest sessions happen in the Magical Realms where they can explore and experiment for as long as they want.

11. Have they ever fought?

Julian: Over little things, more than most. Things get tense with two people trying to be in a committed relationship. Something as stupid as “geez, dirty socks on the floor AGAIN?! The laundry basket is right here!” can, unfortunately, escalate into a rather heated argument about something entirely different. But dammit, we are COMMITTED!!! (I’m NOT leaving this bitch/bastard because I LOVE them, and we have been through WAY too much SHIT for something as amorphous as emotions to drive a wedge between us!) Cue some time apart to get their thoughts and emotions together and a very teary-eyed snotty apology.

Lucio: Yeah, mainly over money management. Lucio always thought the word "budget" meant "cheap." He didn't understand that you can't use the money for shop repairs to buy that gaudy cloak he saw in a store window. He also didn't know that shops had to buy the things they sell. He thought store wares just...appeared.

Asra gets irate at the risks Imalia is all too ready to take at a moment's notice. He wants her to stay safe and it's quite hard when she suddenly decides that she has to drain a quarter of her blood as a reagent for a spell that will lift the curse on a village. She thinks that she will be alright since she merged with the Lord of Nightmares. But Asra reminds her that Lon is a chaos goddess and might not save her.

12. Describe their perfect date

Julian: It's been busy at the shop and the clinic, and Azalea and Julian have been wanting a date night for a while now. Azalea closes the shop early and prepares a picnic for the two of them. Meanwhile, Julian closes his clinic and hauls ass down to the Rowdy Raven to pick up a special bottle that he ordered from Barth. He gets back to the shop just as Azalea is tucking everything away in a basket. Arm in arm, the walk to the hidden garden. They spread out a blanket and set everything up. Under the glow of the Deadly Starstrand, they feed each other and enjoy that entire bottle. They giggle and snuggle together, talking about the "remember whens" of their first meeting. Azalea then pins Julian against that crumbling wall and enacts her secret desires of that night long ago.

Lucio: Lucio got permission from Nadia to set up a special rendezvous in the palace garden. (She adores Azalea and helped him come up with the idea) A table with a magnificent spread was set out for them with a chilled Golden Goose. They spent the evening laughing and talking, Lucio telling Azalea stories of his past glories. Azalea confesses that she didn't think much of herself or her talent until he came into her life. Lucio spends a while kissing up and down the length of Azalea's arms, showering her with praise. He then takes her up to his old wing via the portal in the garden and gives her the full Count experience. ^_~

There is a meteor shower tonight. Imalia sets up a tent (looks small, but is huge inside) in a clearing in the Dark Forest that has all the trappings. A magician's feast, different types of drinks and wine, and big fluffy bed covered in tons of vibrantly colored pillows. Outside, they lay in the grass and stargaze. Imalia tells Asra the history and mythology behind the constellations overhead and what significance they have to different kinds of magicians and mages. Asra already knows all this, but he loves to hear Imalia talk. They watch the shooting stars flit by overhead, and both exclaim when a particularly bright one passes by or makes a loud popping sound. They then retreat into the tent where they eat and weave light magic in the air to entertain each other. Then Asra pulls out a stick of that special incense and the rest of the night is spent rolling in those pillows.

13. Do they have an evening routine?

Julian: When they are home for the night, Azalea will make some tea for them and Julian will pick out a good book. They will sit and read together for a while before drawing a hot lavender bath. They will wash each other and cuddle until the water gets cold. Then a cup of chamomile before going to bed. Fun times may occur at this point.

Lucio: Azalea will spend some time teaching Lucio how to read for as long as she can keep his attention. She will then reward him with some intimate time followed by the lavender bath. She will pour him a glass of wine and tea for herself, and they will talk and tell each other jokes and stories until they fall asleep.

They don't really have a routine; the only routine thing about their evenings is the fact that they go to sleep. They are usually working on experiments together, exploring, reading, drinking, or playing games.

14. Describe a "paid scene" with your character and their LI

Julian: Julian and Azalea are getting ready to attend a soiree at the palace. Azalea helps Julian button his cuffs and slips in some sweet kisses to his wrists. She then tells him to hold his arms up and don't move. She slowly buttons up his shirt, leaving smoldering kisses up his chest as she fastens each button. Julian is a blushing mess, each kiss making him hotter and hotter. When she closes the final button at his neck, she gives him a mischievous love bite right below his collar. She then tells him to help her fasten the back of her dress. He gets a wicked glint in his eye and does as she says, but throwing in a little bit of the temperature magic she had been teaching him. Icy touches make her shudder while hot touches make her groan. He finishes off with a blazing kiss to her shoulder which he drags up her neck and ends with a playful nip to her earlobe.

Lucio: An aerial dancing troupe had performed in the palace earlier that evening. Azalea talked to Nadia and got the troupe to leave their rigs up. The room seems to be littered with draping curtains and ropes. Azalea easily coaxes Lucio into the room and ties a blindfold around his eyes. She tells him to count to ten and then come find her. He does as she asks, but pouts when all he can see are the curtains and ropes swaying. He creeps around each one, listening for her. He hears her giggle and sees some of the curtains move. He dashes forward to find her, but she isn't there. She leads him around the room like this for a good while until finally she spins down from one of the curtains and hangs upside-down in front of him. She gives him that classic Raimi Spider-Man upside-down kiss. He asks her what else she can do from that angle. She replies by sensuously touching him while swaying from the fabric. Eventually, all riled up, he plucks her down from there and hurries off with her to her room.

Imalia tells Asra that she respects the Arcana, but doesn't really hold much reverence towards them since they seem rather useless to her. Asra pulls out his deck and offers to give her a reading. Imalia sighs, but agrees. He lays out three cards and flips one. Just as he suspected, it's The Empress upright. He listens to the card and tells her what it says. "Of all the opportunities you've had, there is one you have wanted more than any other. It scares you, but it's embedded so far down inside you that it's part of who you are. You want more than anything to be a mother." Imalia starts, her face turning a deep red. "It's expected of you," Asra continues, "so a large part of you wants to reject the idea. The idea pins you down to your royal bloodline. But that isn't why you want it. You want it because you want to share the bond that you had with your father with a child of your own. You want to teach them, encourage them, and watch them grow into something amazing." He puts the cards away and looks at her mischievously. "What do you think of the Arcana now?" Imalia grimaces and says "I think they talk too much."

15. Would they go on a double date?

Definitely! Azalea/Julian and Azalea/Lucio have gone on double dates with Imalia/Asra many times! (However, with Azalea/Lucio, Imalia and Lucio typically end up trying to outdo each other with stories of their badassery)

16. Who pops the question?

Julian: They propose to each other!! They both wanted it, knew they did, but weren’t exactly sure how to go about it. They snuck around each other (the only time in their relationship that this happens) and bought rings. Then, on the night each had planned, Julian goes to the kitchen to make them tea and get the ring he’d bought. When he turns around, Azalea is already kneeling in front of him with the ring she’d bought. He’s flabbergasted, and kinda numbly holds out his ring. The next day was full of them guffawing and telling the story to everyone else.

Lucio: He did. It was not at all what Azalea was expecting. She always thought he would propose at a party, in front of everyone in Vesuvia. But no...he waited until they were alone and comfortable, lounging in the grass of the palace garden. He just...asked her. No flourishes, no showy display. As for the ring...he did really well. It wasn't some huge gaudy thing that wouldn't look right on her at all. It was a simple silver band with three gorgeous moonstones set on it. He really thought about what she would like.

She does. They are on holiday together in Nopal during the Painted Daisy Festival. While sitting next to each other at a bonfire, Imalia stands up. She proclaims that she has had the vast fortune of traveling the world, having many adventures, performing great deeds, and teaching some of the brightest minds the world has ever seen. But it all pales in comparison to the person she has fallen in love with. She simply can't see herself doing anything greater than spending her life with him. She kneels down in front of him and produces a golden ring etched in magical runes. She says that he has been there longer than anyone else in her life. Would he mind keeping that bad habit up for a while longer? Say, forever?

17. Describe the wedding

Julian: It takes place at the Palace (at Nadia's insistence). Julian is a nervous wreck, thinking that surely Azalea will change her mind and leave him standing at the altar. Portia smacks sense into him, reminding him that she was part of Azalea's bridal party and had JUST seen her. Imalia is Azalea's maid-of-honor, and is bossing people around like a drill sergeant, accompanied by Mazelinka; they wanted to make sure Azalea could just enjoy this day and not be bothered by the minutiae. When Azalea walks down the aisle, she is a glittering spectacle of white pearls, moonstones, crystals, and feathers from Corva. (she had been saving Corva's shed feathers for this occasion). When they exchange vows, Corva perches on Julian's shoulder, and Malak on Azalea's. They present them with the rings. Que smooches and a hell of a reception with lots of table dancing!

Lucio: Same as above, at the Palace. Nadia and Azalea arranged everything, but kept Lucio's tastes very close in mind. Azalea wanted a nice wedding, but not anything as huge as the Masquerade. The palace was littered with white roses and moonflowers. Imalia actually tended to Lucio in this one. His mother was invited and actually showed up, which made Lucio nervous as hell. Imalia assured him that everything was going to go smoothly, and if Morga did anything, Imalia would do something worse. Despite her choice of groom, Azalea was still her best friend and this day was going to go PERFECTLY. Down the aisle, Azalea was escorted by Mercedes and Melchior. They looked amazing, all clad in white. Azalea’s dress was the same as above, but she actually wore diamonds (even though she hates them). The rings were tied to M&M's collars...which could have been a horrible decision if the dogs got riled up, but Imalia had Balthazaar at the ready to pursue and snatch, should that happen. With the final kiss, sealing the deal, M&M tore out of the sanctuary to chase birds. The reception was a big party, just like Lucio wanted. He never left Azalea's side for a moment, showing her off to everyone in the kingdom.

She and Asra elope. Something to spring on Azalea randomly. XD Plus, Imalia is exhausted with royal and court life; arranging a royal wedding would cause so much headache, and she just knew she would be sending a few nobles to the infirmary with their murmurs about Asra's social standing. Better to just say "Oh, by the way, this is the person I married. Suck it."

18. Any babies?

Julian: Two kids: Nora and Rylen. They both inherit Azalea's premature greying so they enchant their hair like their mother. Auburn at the roots, but Nora's fades into gold. Rylen's fades into deep green. Nora is tall and has the same proclivity for acrobatics that her mother does. She also has a tendency to get into fights. Rylen is shorter and is a bookworm who wants to be a doctor like his father.

Lucio: Two kids: Darien and Etoile. As with the previous two, they inherit Azalea's greying. But they don't enchant their hair. They both like how the blonde roots fade into silver at the ends. Darien is a sweet kid who is just really unlucky. He gets into jams, his magic goes wild, and he tends to lose important things. This is due to whatever deal Morga made when Lucio was a baby. Etoile is an overachiever who is headstrong and bulletproof like her father. She inherits Azalea's smarts which makes her even worse as far as being headstrong because she is, unfortunately, always correct. She does deeply care for her older brother, however, and will knock someone out if they mess with him. She ends up helping him with his crappy luck by making him MANY good luck charms to counteract. The two of them become an adventuring duo, furthering magical research and discovery.

She and Asra have one child (at first; I want to create two more), a daughter named Celestia (Lessie). She is slightly darker of skin tone, with Asra's beautiful white hair and Imalia's crimson eyes. She is coy and mischievous, but can also turn on a dime into a yelling ball-buster. She is best friends with Azalea's kids (both versions) and they get into all sorts of trouble together. She is very good at inventing new magic spells. Mainly good for pranks. She eventually follows in her mother's footsteps and becomes a Magister as well as a potential heir to the throne of Seiruun.

19. Do they stay in Vesuvia, or eventually move somewhere else?

Julian/Lucio: Vesuvia is home. It's where her heart is and it's where she learned all of her greatest lessons in life. She could never leave.

Imalia and Asra set up a portal to Imalia's home country of Seiruun. They have dual citizenship there, and Asra is given the title of Prince since he married Sairuun's only Princess. As such, they have to make appearances at court functions. But Vesuvia is home. Until (or if ever) Queen Dreen Suval has children of her own, Celestia is named the heir to the throne of Seiruun.

20. Talk about that family life. What's it like?

Julian: Azalea continues to run the shop and Julian his clinic. But since the family got so large, they had to move out of the loft and buy a house (they found a nice one close by). Azalea teaches Nora and Rylen how to make potions and tinctures, as well as nurture their magical talents. Rylen wants to be like his father, so Julian takes him on as his apprentice at his clinic and teaches him everything he knows. Azalea has to come to get Nora from the guards after she gets into fights on a somewhat regular basis. She decides that Nora should get a proper "schooling" from Imalia. So Imalia keeps Nora nice and busy and helps her channel her energy to more productive means than fighting. Meals are always spent together as a family.

Lucio: Azalea continues to run the shop, and Lucio actually steps up to help in raising Darien and Etoile. They move into a fancy house. Morga steps in every so often and insists on taking the children out on hunts. When she sees how horrible Darien's luck is, she spends more attention on Etoile. Azalea isn't pleased with this. So she makes Darien her helper and apprentice at the shop and teaches him ways to counter his awful luck. Etoile is the one who figures out exactly what he needs and makes him a LOT of luck charms. They need to be re-energized every so often, but they seem to do the trick and Darien's true potential starts to shine. Morga is forced to eat her words on one hunt when he slays a bear larger than any Morga has ever seen. She begins to piece together Darien's condition and realizes who is actually at fault. Her. So she sets about to rid Darien of the curse of bad luck. Lucio and Azalea love spending time with their kids, reading, telling stories, and playing with magic. Meals are a family event with everyone taking part.

Imalia tries her best not to dote on Celestia, but she just can't help it sometimes. The child is so amazing, and she loves how much like Asra she is. She and Asra take her on family trips the the Magical Realms and help her construct her own Magical Gateway. Asra introduces her to several of the Arcana, and the Magician absolutely adores her. At one point, Celestia manages to slip into the Devil's realm and paints a penis on the frozen Arcana's face. Imalia is immensely proud when Celestia agrees to take on the massive responsibility of becoming heir to Sairuun, but she doesn't put off her education either. Through her own effort and hard work, she becomes a Magister.

BONUS. Petnames.

Azalea calls Julian "Beautiful Beanpole" and "my darling doctor" and Julian calls Azalea "Angel," "darling," and "dearest"

Azalea calls Lucio "Hot Stuff" and "babe" and Lucio calls her "Azzie" (sounds like Ozzy) and "baby"

Imalia calls Asra "Starlight." Asra calls Imalia "Professor." Imalia also calls Lucio "Shitiot" (Shit/Idiot)

#apprenticeapril #imalia gabriev #azalea nevra #imalia x asra #azalea x lucio #azalea x julian #the arcana apprentice #the arcana mc #the arcana oc #the arcana asra #the arcana julian #the arcana lucio

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 30)

On The Move Again...

Idk what to say about this chapter other than a little bit of fluff? A little bit of angst? A little bit of pissed off reader? Just.. mucho dialogue, as per usual with my stuff lmao.

Just wanna let y’all know that I go back to uni tomorrow (I start back really late, I’ve realised) and I’m going into my final year, so I will likely be busy. BUT, I hope to keep posting enough that you wont notice much of a difference, but yeah. If updates become a little less frequent, it’s not cause I’m getting bored of writing this :) side note... I’m so fucking ready to be done with university!

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Arthur woke me up gently, dusting kisses over my face and petting my hair, whispering my name and rocking me in his arms to rouse me as delicately as birdsong. For about thirty blissful seconds I completely forgot about our circumstances, so enamoured with the feeling of waking up with him. This was something I had only done a handful of times but if this was every morning I would be a very happy woman.

"Good morning, angel. I'm sorry to wake you, but I gotta get up," he whispered to me, his hand still smoothing over the back of my head.

"I don't mind waking up if this is the first thing I see," I murmured sleepily, making him laugh.

"I gotta say, it was real nice for me too," he said, kissing my forehead once before wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over until he was above me, though dangerously close to the edge. He slammed a hand on the table next to us before we ended up on the floor together and we laughed as he shuffled us back into the middle of the bed.

"I don't want us to get up," I sighed.

"Me neither, but we gotta figure out what's happening with Jack," he said, and it all came tumbling back to me.

"Oh God, yeah, you know I was almost at peace for a second," I grunted, dropping my head back against the bed and trailing my hands up Arthur's sides.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nestling his face against my neck and inhaling deeply. "I can hear Dutch out there. I ought to go out and talk with 'em, hopefully he's figured something out."

"Alright," I whispered, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him.

With a groan Arthur pushed himself up and off of me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, rolling his neck and grunting as his joints popped. His jaw stretched open with a yawn, one which I caught and mimicked shortly after. I shifted to join him sitting up, and after taking a moment to straighten out our clothes and tidy our hair, we rose to our feet and emerged from the tent. It struck me how shameless we seemed to suddenly be about what was going on between the two of us. It had gone unspoken, but I believed both of us had frankly stopped caring about who knew and who didn't.

Regardless, nobody noticed us leaving the tent together, too preoccupied to care, thankfully. Dutch, Hosea and John were sat around the table talking; Arthur joined them and I pottered off, leaving the men to it and instead heading to grab my morning coffee. I caught sight of Abigail sitting on the ground on her bedroll with her knees hugged into her chest, eyes distant. I opted not to disturb her, taking a seat with Tilly and Mary-Beth in front of their wagon.

"Morning, girls. How're you two holding up?" I greeted them. Tilly was washing a chemise while Mary-Beth was distractedly stitching a white garment that I quickly noticed was dappled with a few specks of blood. Before any of them could even answer I spoke again.

"Mary-Beth, you're bleeding!" I pointed out, reaching out and taking her hand in mine.

"Oh! Oh shoot, what a mess. I pricked myself earlier on, didn't realise I'd drawn blood," she plopped her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injured digit. I put my coffee down and took the garment from her; it was a stocking with a tear in it.

"I'll finish this, don't worry. There ain't too much blood on it, no harm done. 'sides your finger."

"I'm away with the fairies this morning," she shook her head at herself.

"Ain't we all. How're you, Tilly?" I asked.

"About as well as you'd expect. The other day I couldn't stop thinkin' about how bored I was, now I'd happily take boredom over all this mess," Tilly sighed, sitting back on her heels and shaking her hands free of water.

"I'm confident the men'll get Jack back," I assured them both.

"Me too, it's just all the worrying until then. Has Arthur said anything to you about where he is?" Tilly asked me and looked up at her, momentarily – and frankly unjustifiably – surprised that she'd asked me about Arthur.

"Oh, no, he hasn't," I said after a pause.

"How is he doing, anyway? He's been awfully quiet lately," Mary-Beth began, "not that he ain't usually quiet, but you know what I mean."

"Arthur? He…" I paused, looking down at my sewing. "I reckon his injury knocked it out of him for a bit, he didn't much like being cooped up. Then of course, first thing he does after getting back out there is watch Sean– it's understandable. I jus' think he's going through it a bit."

"Well I hope he knows he can come talk to any of us if he needs it. Though, I suppose he has you for that, now," Mary-Beth commented. I looked at her, a light frown on my face.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, we ain't idiots," Tilly laughed "it's extremely obvious that you and him are somethin' more than friends."

"No, that ain't what I meant. You don't think I'm… stealing him, hogging him away from all of you, do you?"

The two girls looked at me, two sets of eyes going wide for a few long seconds before they both laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mary-Beth patted my knee, "I just meant he has you to open up to now, I ain't surprised if he don't talk to us about that stuff all that much anymore. I don't mind it, it makes sense."

"Before you came along, if Arthur was going through a rough patch, he'd come speak to one of us women. That ain't happened in a while so we figured he was talking to you instead, is that not the case?" Tilly added, picking the chemise out of the bucket and squeezing the water out.

"Oh, no, he does," I nodded, thinking back to the previous night, all his talk of getting out of here, no matter how idealised the thoughts were. Mary-Beth leaned forwards a bit, inspecting my expression.

"Everything okay between you two?" She asked.

"Between us, yes, everything is wonderful," I told her, a small sigh escaping me. "I just wish everything else was the same. I don't like seeing him worried. I'm worried too, but I know it ain't a scratch on how he must be feeling."

"Well, I'm just glad he has you. That man deserves a bit of love, that's for sure," Mary-Beth said, "after Mary, and everything that's happened to him."

"Mary-Beth," Tilly said, her tone a warning.

"What?"

"You don't bring up a man's past relationships to his new lady," she chuckled, shaking her head. I smiled in amusement.

"It's alright. I know about Mary, even met her once. Well, not really met, saw her from a distance."

"Really? Oh, well I admit I was a little worried when I heard she was around. She practically carved the poor feller's heart out and spat on it. He was real excited when she agreed to marry him, I don't know how she could do that to him," Mary-Beth sighed.

My heart thumped uncomfortably and I stared blankly at her. She noticed my silence and looked at me, the colour draining from her face soon after.

"They were engaged?" I asked, my voice small.

"Oh, Mary-Beth," Tilly said tightly, shaking her head.

"I thought you knew," Mary-Beth covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I'm a fool."

"No, no it's fine. I've no right to be upset," I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "I guess it just surprised me, I didn't know it'd gone that far."

I understood better why Arthur had been so deeply hurt by her. Why he'd held onto her for years, why he'd kept her photo, why he'd acknowledged her letter and gone to meet her despite the pain he knew it'd cause him. She was the woman he'd loved so much he'd wanted to share the rest of his life with her.

"No, you're upset. Oh gosh, forget this I'll do it later," Mary-Beth snatched the sewing from me and tossed it aside, clasping my hands in hers. "This was years ago, he's clearly moved on and he has you, he's completely taken by you, it's so easy to see."

"I don't need reassurance, like I said, I have no right to be upset over something that happened before he even knew me. He has his own life, how awful would I be to turn sour over him living his own life?" I forced a laugh, shaking my head.

It was true, I had no reason to be upset. And I wasn't upset, not with Arthur, he'd done nothing wrong. But I did feel something cold and sickly and gross in my tummy and it was startlingly close to inadequacy.

"Mary-Beth is right, he's crazy about you. I watched him drawing you the other day when you weren't looking. Never seen the man look so peaceful," Tilly added, moving closer to join us. She put a hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me.

"You did?" I sputtered, eyes going wide and my face going hot.

"Yeah. You were brushing your horse and he was at that table over there just watching you, sketching away in that journal of his. I'd love to see what's inside that thing," Tilly giggled.

"I bet it's real romantic," Mary-Beth remarked, her voice low and tender.

"It never occurred to me that he might write about me in there," I thought aloud.

"You should sneak a peek while he's sleeping," Tilly whispered and I flashed her a disapproving frown.

"Oh, I couldn't. That'd be a violation of his privacy," I said.

"I guess," Tilly sighed glumly. "You should at least ask him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I reckon I might prefer the mystery."

"Might be full of things he's too scared to say, could show a soft, vulnerable, tender side to him that his tough, manly lifestyle forces him to hide," Mary-Beth stared off into the distance, her expression nothing short of dreamy.

"Good lord, Mary-Beth. You really have to stop reading those novels," Tilly laughed and Mary-Beth playfully swatted her arm. I couldn't help but smile, eyes wandering over to Arthur across the camp. That smile quickly faded though, when I noticed Lenny approaching the group with two men I did not recognise.

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem," he called out, pointing his gun at the back of the men, keeping a close eye on them as they walked towards Dutch.

The men were well dressed in suits and ties and bowler hats, the second of the men had a gun slung over his shoulder. Something told me they weren't friends of the Van Der Linde gang. I stayed put as the men exchanged a few words.

"Crap, that's the Pinkertons, I reckon," Mary-Beth hissed under her breath when she noticed. The gang slowly surrounded the group, forming a crowd that couldn't not be at least a little intimidating. I rose to my feet, crossing the camp towards them to listen in on what was happening, aware of the fact that Tilly and Mary-Beth were hanging back.

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilised land, now. We didn't kill all those savages to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's done," the first gentleman was announcing when I got close enough to hear. The atmosphere was so dark and thick, it was like I could taste it or smell it, it was foul like the contents of a spittoon.

"This place ain't no such thing as civilised. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites," Dutch responded, his words so well articulated, spoken almost like poetry right from a book.

"And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" The agent questioned, eyes scanning the crowd around him. His eyes found me. "Oh, and who is this? You must be new, haven't heard anything about you."

Dutch and Arthur looked my way, Dutch's expression stony and serious, Arthur's immediately turning to painful worry.

"Leave her–" Arthur started, abruptly cut off by Dutch.

"You'd single out a lady whom to your knowledge has done nothing wrong? That doesn't make you a man any more than threatening the likes of me does," he said. Hosea, who happened to be closest to me, pushed me behind him and obscured their view of me.

"Whether or not any of you lowlifes consider me a man is of no importance to me. I am here to offer you all a deal. You, Dutch, come with me and I'll give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else," he bargained, and I stared at the back of Dutch's head, my heart in my throat as I awaited his response.

Dutch chuckled.

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

"I don't wanna kill all these folk Dutch. Just you," the agent stared at Dutch with such disdain I could practically feel the second hand effects of it, creeping hotly up my arms like vines.

"In that case, it'd be my honour to join you," Dutch's words were low, pleasant, "excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep, with…"

The metallic clicks sounding out across the crowd rose hairs on my neck, weapons being readied, the threat loud and clear.

"I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw warned. It was clear that nobody here was prepared to let the men take Dutch away. And Dutch… he was well aware of this.

"You're making a big mistake, all of you," the Pinkerton glowered, unsettled and frustrated, losing his grip on the situation he was so evidently being overpowered in.

"Yeah, dreadful. We have got something. Something to live and die for, how awful for us. Mr? Milton, stop following us, we'll be gone soon," more cool, velvety words from Dutch.

"I'm afraid I can't, and when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place you fools. Run!"

"Come on," Lenny grabbed his arm, got him moving only to be shaken off.

"Get your damn hands off of me, boy," and with that, the gentleman returned from the direction they came. As they disappeared through the trees, the air seemed to clear just a bit. It left behind an unpleasant sludge but at least I felt I could breathe.

The crowd dispersed as Dutch turned to Arthur, the men spoke quietly and I backed away, shaken by the experience. I knew that the Van Der Linde gang were wanted, chased by a dozen different groups of enemies, but actually seeing the evidence standing in the middle of the place we were all meant to feel the safest was difficult to wrap my head around.

I found myself with Javier again, I'd sought him out when Dutch made the announcement that we were moving again, so I could help to take some tents down like last time. We worked together well enough. We were taking down Arthur's first, deconstructing the canvas and posts, loading everything up on the ammunition wagon it all attached to. I was tasked with carefully unpinning his photographs from the side of it so that they wouldn't be lost in transit. Javier and I weren't as talkative this time around, but his choice to start this particular conversation vexed me.

"This piss you off?" He asked, holding up the photograph of Mary. I frowned at him.

"No," I simply said.

"Alright," he said innocently. "I just thought, since you and him…" he trailed off.

"Whatever he and I are, he's allowed to keep a photo of a person he once held dear," I said, packing away the keepsakes in Arthur's chest. I took the photo from Javier and it joined the rest.

"So, are you guys serious?" He asked. When I didn't answer him, he walked around to stand in front of me, folding up Arthur's bedding. "Micah's been sayin' some stuff."

"Micah," I repeated, looking up at Javier. "Micah doesn't know anything about Arthur and I so take it with a pinch of salt."

"No, not about Arthur, 'bout you and him, at the Parlour House," he told me.

I stared for a moment, mind failing to conjure up a response.

He smirked, though he seemed surprised. "So something did happen?"

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing, really. It's all vague suggestion, was saying it 'round the fire the other night when you were in here with Arthur," he explained. "I know you and Micah have had some tension, with that kiss that day."

"What the fuck did he say?" I reiterated, getting irritated.

"Said stuff like you and him make a good team, the usual crap. But then he talked about you two going out drinking at the Parlour House, you two had fun together, got along real well. Said it with this smirk on his face," Javier told me, wearing a salacious smirk of his own. "Didn't make it hard to read between the lines."

"Right, so basically, he's tryin'a start a rumour about me and him? What, that we kissed? Slept together?" I scoffed, and Javier shrugged. "Well, here's a rumour, spread it all you like. That bristly faced creep asked me to sleep with him at the Parlour House that night, an' he's clearly feeling hard done by considering I rejected him. And don't worry, Arthur already knows about the whole damn embarrassment and I talked him down from beating him, but I'm sure he'd reconsider if I jus' said the word."

With every word I stepped closer to Javier, poison in my tone that wasn't really directed at him. The corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned away, holding his hands up in surrender. When I was finished, he let loose a chuckle.

"Alright, I got you, loud and clear."

"I've been trying my damnedest to find the best in him, I know there's some decency in the man, but, by God. He's making it real difficult for me not to join the rest of 'em in hating the bastard," I huffed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment mixed with anger.

"Ay, it's okay. I never really believed him. Don't think anyone else did, either, we all saw how you were when Arthur got fucked up by the O'Driscolls," he reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder and gingerly pushing me backwards, out of his personal space.

"Yeah well, even so, I don't take kindly to someone making me out to be somethin' I ain't. Say if someone did believe him, then watched me hanging around in Arthur's tent all these weeks, they'd think I was a real piece of work," I muttered, snatching the pillow from Arthur's bed and putting it in the wagon, then moving to roll up the thin padding that served as a mattress.

Javier laughed. "I think you're overestimating people's ability to give a damn. Even if it was true; you wanna get it on with half the gang, that's up to you. Wouldn't be the first girl," he snickered.

I cocked a brow at him.

"Could'a been any one of us in John's position," he shrugged. My head whipped around towards where Abigail was, helping pack with Sadie and Karen.

"Oh, I ain't gossiping. Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Alright, muñequita," he chuckled, "no more gossip."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"What does what mean?"

"Mune– mune– that word you said," I shook my head, the unfamiliar word dissolving in my mind before I could repeat it.

"Muñequita?" He smirked at me, looking a little surprised that I'd asked. A little embarrassed, even. "Oh, nothing. It's a… just a name. A term of endearment."

"Oh, alright. It's a pretty word," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him.

"Means little doll. People don't tend to ask me what I'm saying, so I'm a little caught off guard," he laughed, shaking his head and turning away from me to lift up the bed frame. "The name seemed to suit you. Those jobs you do, putting on all these roles, playing pretend. Like a little kid's doll."

He leaned the bed up against the wagon and turned to me, appraising my reaction.

"Well, playing pretend…" I started, pursing my lips in thought. "I guess I can pretend it ain't me robbing people blind. It's Jemima Jones."

Javier laughed through his nose, tilting his head down.

"Jemima Jones. She's a clever girl, but don't let her take all the credit–"

"I'm glad you two are gettin' along so nicely but if you remember, we all have the threat of death hangin' over us until we get packed up and gone. Get moving!" Miss Grimshaw hissed as she marched passed us.

Javier and I shared a glance before getting back to work.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic #Javier Escuella #mary beth gaskill #tilly jackson #van der linde gang

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techouspeaks · 6 years ago

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Puzzleshipping: My Most Hated Shipping

Now before anyone tries to flag me or send me hate mail or both, look and read before you get mad. Also, if you do love this shipping, that’s perfectly fine. I have nothing against you. I’m not saying people who enjoy this shipping are bad people or stupid nor do I wish any ill fated action on them. None of that. This is just my personal gripe with this shipping. I am ranting it here, on my page, on my blog. Not attacking anyone personally about it. I know how loved this shipping is, I may not get it but okay I‘m just sharing my views, to share a different perspective.

All I ask anyone is to read this with an open mind. Everyone is gonna have a different opinion. This is more so my reasons why I hate this ship for reasons of both sharing opinions and also as away to get off my chest.

To start off there are many reasons why I absolutely despise Puzzleshipping and some reasons are ones that fans probably heard a lot. If you dunno what Puzzleshipping is for followers new to my blog or this subject, it’s the shipping or pairing of YugiXYami/Atem in Yugioh Duel Monsters.

First is the whole Yami/Atem and Yugi look alike and are possibly related, thus getting into um inappropriate (family romance) levels. (I’m honestly trying not to get this censored by tumblr). True, it’s never stated whether or not Yami/Atem and Yugi are related, except in one video game which is not canon to the series.

Honestly, you can’t blame people for feeling like this shipping goes into that territory. They look exactly alike. If you had a stranger who knew nothing of Yugioh and they saw some questionable fan art of the two, it’s only natural that they would think fans are into inter-family relationships and think “What the actual hell?”

When I was first really into the internet at a high school age, that was my main shock of the relationship because I’m like “Aren’t they related?”. I know this is still debatable but even then I’m like “Kinda creepy”.

Another obvious one is that Yugi blushes or gets more flustered around women. He is never this way around men. He’s never shy around men and especially Yami. Shoot, the moment a woman hands out sample ad brochures for Duke’s shop, Yugi blushes at her. Obviously, he doesn’t know her but still flusters around her since she’s pretty, indicating a more well obvious attraction to the opposite sex. Not to mention when Yugi is kissed by Rebecca and when Tea gets obviously jealous.

Yami on the other hand, I would argue he’s even asexual or even aromantic because he doesn’t seem that remotely interested in anyone. Maybe, Mana but even that is still debatable. He cares for people sure, but never shows that much of an interest in that kind of way. He protects Yugi and of course, cares for him but the way he’s does so is more of a brother or father figure looking after their brother/son. It’s protective love but not romantic. He doesn’t want to kiss Yugi or show anything that would indicate a romantic relationship. In fact, he even encourages Yugi to go after Anzu in the Japanese version. Most of this over protective attitude stems for the fact Yami feels guilty for dragging Yugi and his friends in his personal endeavors that can be dangerous, which often Yami states through out the series.

Now, I’m not going to go on with superficial and typical reasons that are often heard of when hating on this ship. I’ll just get to my main gripe about it and it’s a very deep reason for hating it. It’s my inner core of why I hate this ship. This shipping is the top, number one shipping of any series I can’t stand and here is why.

I honestly believe Puzzleshipping goes against what the story of Yugi Mutou is about and even who Yugi is as a character. The story of Yugioh Duel Monsters and generally Yugi’s personal story is about growing up. Yugi becoming an independent, strong, individual that can hold up his own in personal fights. Yami helps Yugi along, first as an entity that Yugi isn’t aware of yet but feels the presence of. As time goes on and he realizes who Yami is, at first he’s afraid because of what Yami does to Kaiba. He goes against Yugi’s wishes to not hurt Kaiba, but thanks to Anzu/Tea, Yugi stops Yami. After he vows to not go against Yugi’s wishes ever again, Yugi begins to trust Yami and become good friends, realizing that he is the confident entity that’s been protecting Yugi and helping him stand against tough foes, as well as gain the confidence to make friends.

Yami of course, goes against Yugi’s wishes again when he decides to use the Seal of Orichalcos against Rafael, though ultimately regrets this after Yugi pushes Yami and gets sealed away instead. Though this leads to Yugi and Yami in a heated duel, that results in Yugi explaining that it was for Yami to finally defeat the darkness within his heart, thus allowing Yugi to help Yami grow this time. Yugi continues to lend in the strength that Yami needs as Yami did for Yugi during his times of needs.

Now after explaining all that, it does seem like Puzzleshipping is legit, right? Not really. See, my gripe and why I say Puzzleshipping goes against it is how the fandom depicts Yugi in Puzzleshipping. When the time came and Yami had to be sent to the past, this was basically Yugi growing up and moving forward to continue on with being his own person, while Yami learns to be a strong, individual leader that his people need.

The way Puzzleshipping often depicts Yugi is the exact opposite to that. PS often depicts Yugi as a helpless damsel or someone that can’t live without Yami. The shipping seems to throw away all the development that Yugi gained, making Yugi look more helpless and more needing a man than Snow White and Sleeping Beauty! I know Yugi isn’t always strong and always confident but my goodness, he’s definitely come along way and I just feel that most PS works just throw this development way like it was nothing but garbage.

Same with Yami. Puzzleshipping often displays Yami as the hero that rescues Yugi or seductive flirty person, which he is not. While there are some that depict Yugi and Yami similar to the series, that’s also a problem too. It depicts Yugi and Yami before they grew and learn the lessons they learned.

Also why I am not showing puzzleshipping artwork in this post is because that would probably be considered art theft and I don’t want this blog flagged! Google it yourself!

Yugi is a character that in my youth, I looked up to a lot. When I was in middle school, I was bullied a lot and wish I had a large group of friends to stand by me. I probably wouldn’t have survived school without seeing Yugi during his struggles, showing he can be strong but also kind and accepting, thus giving me hope to find someone equally as kind and accepting.

Put it short, Yugi, his story and his friends helped me out during the toughest times as a kid. So seeing Yugi depicted as this prissy, helpless princess that needs his Egyptian Prince is just down right insulting to the character, I highly respect. Yeah, he’s fictional but again, he’s a character I grew up, highly respecting and looking up to as an example of a person I wished to be and a person that I wanted to be with. (Though I’m happy for Tea/Anzu, since she’s also really awesome.) Yami is too though he got a bit emo for my tastes down the road, he’s still a character that certainly deserves some respect as well.

It’s sorta like how people can’t stand remakes and reboots, despite this is just pure fandom fluff. Yeah, nothing is gonna stop it but that doesn’t stop people from feeling the way they feel about it and wanting to rant about it now and then and I’m not saying that all Puzzleshipping works are like what I described, but a majority of them are, especially in artworks.

Puzzleshipping just ruins the long, struggling, development of our two main leads and what are a great, strong and reliable individual characters. The whole point of the Dark Side of Dimensions movie was for Yugi to settle with his conflict he had when Yami left him and finally move on and I just feel like Puzzleshipping throws this type of development out the window, for a more “Kawaii-ish feels” or often from my perspective, to just add more gay to Yugioh.

I get there are AUs and people are allowed to have their fun and if I insulted fans well, sorry but call it even because I can’t search Yugi Muto without Puzzleshipping work being in my face and there’s only so much soft blocking I can do. I’m not at all saying that people can’t ship these two because yeah, like I’m the queen of the world! Hell no! It’s also not like I don’t have a few questionable ships and shippings a lot of people may not agree with myself.

(Drawing and Violet, child in the middle by me. Angel Dust and Vaggie belong to VivziePop)

Like I said, I’m just giving my reasons for why I personally hate it, why it ticks me off and why I think it’s one of the worst shippings in terms of pairings that are otherwise not that morally bad. There are far worse shippings that are more obvious on why they’re bad, but this one just gets under my skin for personal reasons, as I stated.

Think of this post as a dive into a different perspective, if you will. The goal isn’t to change the minds of puzzleshippers but to give a different point of view, especially to those that may not fathom why someone would hate this shipping. As I said, on the surface, Puzzleshipping seems legit but on the deeper levels, it’s not as wonderful as it may seem, at least to people like me and at least the majority of works that show case it.

I hope this rant though long, is at least informative and shares light on personal feelings that I certainly have and some who hate this shipping as much as I do also have. As stated, ship who you want. I mean, I obviously can’t tell you what to ship and to not ship. If it makes you happy, go for it. As said, just wanted to share my thoughts and my reasons. Obviously there’s worst things out there but everyone has a pet peeve or something that maybe mundane but is annoying or even infuriating to them.

So, creative question to anyone who reads this, what is a shipping you really can’t stand and why? Is there a shipping you hate? Also, what’s a shipping you like? My personal favorites are SpiderMoth (Angel Dust and Vaggie from Hazbin Hotel), Peachshipping (though I see it as canon), TomaXChiffon from Futago Hime and CloseXHaruka/Cure Flora and ShutXTowa/Cure Scarlet from Go Princess Precure.

#puzzleshipping #yugioh #yugi mutou #yugi moto #yami yugi #editorial

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adorkablephil · 6 years ago

Text

Fic: Snow Angel

Title: Snow Angel Summary: Dan’s been watching YouTuber Phil Lester for years, but Phil doesn’t even know he exists. Of course, that’s because Dan is Phil’s invisible guardian angel. Rating: PG (for Dan’s foul mouth) Word Count: 15.4K Author’s Note: Written for @jorzuela in the 2019 @phandomreversebang. She offered a variety of possible elements and asked authors to choose 3 or more to make their own prompt. I chose winter, party, birthday, magic, hurt/comfort, angels, AU, and coffee. She made multiple pieces of art for this story, which was incredibly generous of her! A million thanks to @ky-thewolf for the dedicated, supportive, and extremely helpful beta work! The three of us were an unbeatable team in our Twitter gc! Also available on AO3

Phil sat on the sofa, not talking to anyone, with a paper plate of cake on his lap. It was white cake. Who likes white cake? Why did David buy white cake for Phil’s birthday? Didn’t he know Phil at all? They’d been flatmates for three years, but David bought him white cake. Didn’t he know red velvet was Phil’s favorite? Did he even care? David had taken the big rectangular white cake out of a Tesco box with a discount price tag on it, and it tasted a little stale.

David was hogging all the attention, too, telling some funny story that had everyone laughing, all gathered around him. No one noticed Phil, even though the party was supposed to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. A milestone, right? Thirty. It was a big deal. But Phil just sat there alone on the sofa. David had invited mostly his own friends, anyway. Phil didn’t have that many friends. Not enough to make a party, just maybe enough to go to a nice dinner or something, which was more Phil’s type of thing. He didn’t really like parties. He tended to hover in the corner near the snack table.

Everyone was enjoying David’s stories so much that no one even noticed when Phil got up and set his paper plate on the side table, grabbed his warmest coat, walked quietly to the front door of the flat, and left. Just got up and walked away from his own birthday party.

A few minutes later, he brushed some snow off a bench and sat down in the little park across the street from the flat. Well, not really a park, just a bit of greenery in the middle of their London neighborhood. He’d always liked snow, but tonight it didn’t make him happy like it usually did. He just sat on the snowy bench under a street lamp, shoulders hunched against the cold, hands shoved into his coat pockets to keep them warm.

—

It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.

—

A pair of black boots appeared in the snow some distance from where Phil was sitting. The boots had zips. He liked zips. Not Phil. Him. He liked black, and he liked zips. Zips on everything, even when they weren’t necessary. Unconventional, unnecessary zips. He didn’t wear them often, because he wasn’t often in a human body, but he enjoyed them. When humans invented zips, they’d really been onto something.

His coat had zips too. A black coat, of course. He watched Phil from afar, just sitting on that bench and staring at the ground, and then he started walking toward him. Two paper cups of coffee appeared in his hands. When he got to the bench, he offered one of the cups to Phil, who startled slightly, looking up into his face. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you there,” Phil said, then looked in confusion at the cup of coffee being offered.

“You looked cold. I thought you might like a cup of coffee.”

Thoughtfully, Phil first brushed the snow off the rest of the bench before taking the proffered cup. “Thank you. You can sit if you like.” Phil took a sip of the coffee he’d been given, and his eyebrows went up. “Exactly the way I like it!” He gazed in surprise at the man sitting beside him. “How did you know?”

“You just looked like a cream and sugar kind of guy.” They smiled at each other.

“I can’t believe I was so rude. You gave me coffee and I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Phil,” he said, holding out his hand with a guileless expression. They shook hands.

“Call me Dan.” They both sipped from their cups. Well, Phil sipped—Dan just let the liquid touch his lip and felt its warmth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dan. And thank you very much for the coffee!”

“You’re welcome. I had to give you something for your birthday, didn’t I?”

Phil jumped, nearly falling off the bench, and turned to stare. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“Thirty, too. That’s a big one. Shouldn’t you be at some kind of party or something?”

Abruptly, Phil seemed to forget all about the mystery of how the stranger knew it was his birthday, and he just deflated. “Well, the party wasn’t that great, so I left.”

“That’s what you get for living with a dick of a flatmate.”

Phil really did fall off the bench this time, landing right on his butt in the snow. He didn’t even get up, just sat staring with his mouth hanging open, apparently unable to even find words. Eventually, he found his tongue. “Who … who are you? How do you know all of this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Sitting there in the snow and staring up at a mysterious stranger, Phil set his jaw. “Try me,” he challenged.

“I’m your guardian angel.”

Phil frowned. Slowly, deep in thought, he picked himself up and dusted snow off his backside. “Okay,” Phil breathed. “There’s a lot to unpack there. But, first things first … guardian angels are real … and mine is named Dan? It’s not a very impressive, angel-type name, like Raphael or Galadriel.”

“You do realize that Galadriel is a character in The Lord of the Rings, don’t you?” Dan asked, amused.

“Of course I do!” Phil exclaimed in frustration. “I’ve seen the entire trilogy five times! But how does an angel know about The Lord of the Rings?”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Who do you think was watching over you all five times you sat through that entire trilogy? And thank, you, by the way, for only making me watch The Hobbit once. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to turn a very short book into three excruciatingly long movies?”

They both shook their heads in disappointed disapproval. “I’m sorry I even put you through that at all,” Phil admitted. Then he stared at Dan in shock. “You said ‘fuck’! Angels say ‘fuck’? And how did you know about the book?” Then he smacked himself in the forehead. “Because you were there when I read it when I was a kid.”

“Nah. I only got assigned to you seven or eight years ago. You should have heard the previous guy complain! All about how he could barely keep you from walking off cliffs or lighting yourself on fire.”

Phil scowled. “Angels complain about me? You know, I’ve heard some insults before, but that one goes to the top of the list.”

Dan waved a hand dismissively. “Puriel is as big of a dick as your flatmate.”

“There’s an angel named Puriel? Sounds like a hand sanitizer.”

Dan actually laughed so hard that this time it was he who nearly fell off the bench. When he got control of himself, he gave Phil a long look. “You’re taking all of this much more calmly than I expected.”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment, then he said, “Well, why not? I mean, blobfish are weird as heck, and they’re real. So why not angels? I feel kind of flattered that I have a guardian angel.”

“Everybody’s got one.”

“Oh.” Phil blinked. “Well, I still think it seems nice, knowing that somebody’s been watching out for me.”

“Yeah, Puriel might be a dick, but you definitely do require a lot of attention. I thought the thing about lighting yourself on fire was a joke, but what the hell made you think you should operate the stove with your fucking foot?”

“Hey, that turned out fine!” Phil replied defensively. “Nothing caught on fire…”

Dan stared at him silently. And waited. And waited.

And waited.

“Oh,” Dan saw when Phil finally got it. “That was because of you?” Dan nodded. “Oh … well, thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Dan chuckled.

“But there’s a question you still haven’t answered,” Phil insisted. Dan shrugged, welcoming whatever Phil wanted to ask. “My guardian angel is named Dan? It just seems sort of … boring. Not very fancy, as far as angel names go.”

“You want Puriel back?” Dan quipped. Phil laughed. “To be honest, our real names aren’t in a human language, so we just use these names as a sort of convenience when we actually need to have a conversation with a human, which doesn’t happen as often as you’d think. So I usually go by Daniel, but we’ve been hanging out together for years now, even if you didn’t know it … so I figured you could call me Dan.”

Phil held his hand out again and said, “Well, now that I know who you really are, it’s nice to finally meet you, Dan. And thanks for all the help you’ve apparently been giving me behind the scenes.” They shook hands warmly. “But, hey, why did you let that squirrel bite me? And…”

Dan held up his hands. “No way you’re pinning every bad thing that ever happened to you on me. First of all, I can’t control living creatures, so if you try to pet a goose, that goose has every right to bite you in the butt.” Phil tried to interrupt, but Dan kept talking. “But I also can’t fix everything. If you’re going to try to kill yourself every five seconds, I can only catch you 99 times out of 100. And I think those are pretty good odds. So every time you’ve tripped or knocked something over or fallen down the stairs or something … just imagine if I hadn’t been there to catch you the other 99 times.”

Phil tilted his head in confusion. “But I thought you couldn’t control living creatures, so how could you keep me from falling down the stairs?”

Dan grinned. “I can’t control you, but I can make the handrail suddenly sort of magnetic so that it draws your hand to it. Or I can shift the weight of whatever’s in the bag you’re carrying. Or I can make the step rise up to meet your foot…”

“You can do all that?” Phil marveled, gazing at Dan in wonder.

Dan shrugged modestly and buffed his fingernails against his coat, making Phil laugh again.

They sat there in silence for a little while—Phil just staring at Dan in wonder—when suddenly snow started falling softly around them. Phil held up a hand and smiled. “It’s snowing again. For my birthday.”

Dan just smiled at him.

“Is that you? Are you making it snow?” Dan shrugged again, but gave a mischievous smirk. Phil stood up and stared up at the sky with his arms spread wide. “Well, if you’re making it snow for my birthday, thank you, because I love the snow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan replied softly, watching Phil’s blissful expression as he gazed upward and let the snowflakes fall on his face. He looked like what most people would expect an angel to look like. Dan looked down at his black clothes with their random zips, then back at Phil with his arms wide and blissful expression. The contrast couldn’t have been more stark.

Phil began to twirl very slowly, still gazing upward, arms still extended. “You’re going to trip over something,” Dan warned him.

“I have a guardian angel watching out for me,” Phil replied with a little laugh.

Dan just watched Phil enjoy the falling snow for a while before offering another warning. “You’re going to end up drenched, you know. All that snow is melting as soon as it hits the warmth of your body, and it’s just turning to water. It’s like you’re standing in the rain.”

“Standing in the rain is good, too,” Phil said. “But snow is better. I don’t mind it melting. Watching it fall is just the best thing ever.”

After a few more minutes of watching Phil gaze up at the snow, even trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue once or twice, Dan reluctantly admitted, “You may be a pain in the ass to keep alive and safe, but you’re better at this than most people."

"Better at what?" Phil looked down from the sky to see Dan’s face.

"Living.”

Phil frowned. “How can somebody be better at living?”

Dan tried to think of how to explain. “You appreciate things more, like the snow. You smile more than most people, and you make other people smile. You love more, including all creatures, not just humans ... even plants! You reach out and try to offer love where you can. You're kind. You sing more often than most people. You laugh a lot, including at yourself, which most people can't do so well. You try new things instead of always staying with what's safe, and you don't mind if you fail. You do what makes you happy even if it isn't what everyone else is doing. You create beautiful things that no one else could have thought of. You're sensitive to how others are feeling and actively increase the happiness of the other people around you. You're just ... you're better at it. You're a better human than most. You're just ... better at living. You're good at it." He ended this long speech with a slight feeling of embarrassment. He didn’t usually give compliments. He didn’t usually talk much at all, actually. But he’d been watching Phil for a while now, and he’d noticed things.

Phil stared at him in apparent awe, his eyes wide, but he didn’t say anything in response. Dan wondered if he’d been struck dumb by a random string of compliments from a grumpy, black-clad guardian angel … and figured that was actually probably the case. “Come on,” Dan grumbled. “You’re getting soaked. Let’s get you into the coffee shop around the corner to dry off.” He took Phil’s arm and dragged him along, since Phil still seemed dazed.

“I’m better at living?” Phil whispered to him as they walked.

“Forget I said anything,” Dan said gruffly, increasingly embarrassed by his outpouring of emotion.

Phil smiled and seemed a bit less dazed. “I’m good at it. An angel said I’m good at it,” he murmured to himself in wonder.

“I said forget it!” Dan rumbled threateningly.

“No,” Phil said firmly. “I never will. Not my whole life. I will never forget it. Sometimes I really doubt myself … so … so thank you for saying it.”

Dan shrugged uncomfortably and opened the door of the coffee shop, practically shoving Phil inside ahead of him.

—

The coffee shop was deliciously warm after their time in the snow, but it caused the last remaining snowflakes to melt immediately. Water dripped along Dan’s scalp, but he was lucky enough to be wearing a scarf that caught most of the moisture before it could touch his neck.

Phil, however, gave a visible shudder as melted snow practically streamed from his soaking wet hair onto his bare skin. “Do you have a towel from the kitchen?” Dan brusquely asked the startled-looking girl behind the counter. “Or even just a bunch of paper napkins?” She ducked into the back room and emerged with a tea towel which she timidly offered. Dan snatched it from her hand and began vigorously rubbing Phil’s wet hair as Phil tried to bat him away.

Eventually, satisfied that Phil’s hair would at least no longer actually drip water, Dan gave his own hair a quick rub, then offered the wet tea towel back to the barista with an apologetic smile. He knew the dimples this human face had would charm most people into forgiving him almost any bad behavior. “I’m sorry I was so rude when we first came in. It’s freezing out there, and we’d gotten quite a bit of snow on us.”

The barista flushed and returned his smile, taking the tea towel from him. “Let me just put this in the back, and I’ll come take your order. Why don’t you take off your coats and things? It’s nice and toasty in here.” Dan and Phil took her advice and hung their outerwear on the provided rack. Phil rubbed his hands together, then ran his hands up and down his arms to stimulate the blood flow.

“Go on,” Dan told him, looking around at the empty room. “Go sit at the table by the window. I’ll order us some more coffee to warm us up.” He knew Phil would like to watch the snow from the window table, and Phil did indeed smile as he gazed out at the winter wonderland.

When the barista returned, Dan placed their order at the counter before going to join Phil at the table. “Warming up?” he asked. Phil nodded happily. The coffee shop was warm enough that their hair was already drying.

Phil had rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand, and was gazing out the window. “It’s so beautiful,” he said dreamily. “I love snow. And I must admit it’s nice to watch it from someplace cozy.” He looked at Dan. “I loved standing in it, too, though. Thank you for that.”

Dan rolled his eyes and said, “I already told you you’re welcome. You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“But what if I want to keep thanking you?” Phil asked impishly. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

Dan sighed heavily, trying to indicate the extreme patience he was showing in the face of Phil’s ridiculousness. He then said, slowly and firmly, “You. Are. Fucking. Welcome. Now shut the fuck up about it.”

Phil gazed at him curiously. “Do all angels swear as much as you do?”

Dan threw his head back in frustration, then raised it up again to look at Phil. “Would you rather have Puriel back? Get your hands all nice and sanitized?”

Phil laughed, then shrugged. “It was a legitimate question. I mean, you do swear a lot.”

“That’s just me,” Dan replied with a huff. “I’m not the sweet and sugary type. Sorry if that offends your delicate sensibilities.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I like you just the way you are.” He smiled at Dan, and Dan felt a strange kind of fluttery nausea in his human stomach.

“Well, that’s good,” Dan said. “I don’t plan on handing the job off to anyone else, so you’re stuck with me. I don’t know why Puriel complained so much. You’re not that bad.”

Phil grinned. “Even if I do try to light myself on fire by working the stove with my feet?”

Dan laughed. “Even then. You just … keep me on my toes, you might say.”

They both giggled like schoolchildren as the barista approached the table. “The coffee will be ready in a minute, but … he said today was your birthday…” and she placed a red-frosted cupcake on the table, a single burning candle standing on top.

Phil sobered immediately. “For me?” he asked with wide eyes, looking between Dan and the barista and back again.

“For you,” Dan affirmed, then urged Phil, “You have to blow out the candle!”

Phil blew out the candle, then thanked the barista, who just smiled at him and walked away.

“Well,” Dan said impatiently before Phil could thank him again. “Go ahead and eat it!”

“Do you want to share?” Phil asked.

“It’s your birthday. It’s not a proper birthday cake, but it’ll have to do. Now go on!”

“The other cake, the one at the party, it didn’t even have any candles,” Phil said sadly as he began to peel the wrapper off the cupcake. And then he suddenly looked up at Dan with wide eyes. “Is this…” he looked at the revealed cupcake again. “Is this red velvet?”

Dan grinned. “I guess you’ll have to taste it and find out.”

Phil took a big bite of the cupcake and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “It is red velvet,” he moaned almost completely unintelligibly with his mouth still full. He swallowed and asked, “How did you know red velvet was my favorite?”

Dan just gave him that look again.

“Oh, right,” Phil giggled, then took another bite. He visibly savored it, then swallowed again. “Are you sure you don’t want a bite?” he asked Dan. Phil was always like that, preferring to share anything he found particularly wonderful, instead of wanting to hoard it for himself. It was one of the things Dan had always found especially admirable about him. Something he’d always found especially endearing. One of the things that had made Dan care about him so much and not mind the constant death-defying challenges.

He couldn’t understand how Puriel couldn’t love someone that generous and kind.

But Puriel was a dick who wouldn’t recognize a truly good person if they kicked him in the ass. Which a good person probably wouldn’t do, come to think of it. But Dan would.

The barista brought their two cups of coffee and showed them the sugar and small pitcher of milk sitting on the table, then told them to let her know if they needed anything else. Phil had his mouth full of cupcake, and Dan was afraid he might spew crumbs in his attempt to thank her, so Dan quickly said, “Thanks! I’m sure these will warm us up.” The barista turned to go, so all Phil did was nod vigorously, keeping his mouth closed as he chewed.

Dan sat, pretending to sip from his coffee, and simply watched Phil devour the cupcake with great relish while looking out the window at the snow. It was like watching happiness personified.

When he’d finally finished the cupcake and chased down most of the remaining crumbs with some coffee of his own, Phil toyed with the candle in his long, pale fingers. “Another year gone,” he said, sounding a little melancholy now.

Dan nodded. “Yup. Another year closer to your inevitable death and the probable doom of this entire universe.”

Phil blinked repeatedly. “You must be the weirdest angel ever.”

“Haven’t met many, have you?” Phil nodded at what was, obviously, a fair point. “There’s some weird ones, let me tell you.”

“But … my inevitable death? The doom of the entire universe?” Phil stared at him, still obviously thrown off balance.

Dan shrugged. “It’s the truth. Happy birthday!” He made ironic jazz hands. As intended, it made Phil laugh again.

“I don’t like to think of it that way,” Phil mused. “It’s more like … another year of working toward making my dreams come true. Maybe someday I’ll actually make it all happen.”

“I have faith in you,” Dan said, caught off guard by his own unintended honesty. At first, he didn’t understand why Phil started giggling, but then he caught on. “Oh, ha ha. Faith from an angel. I get it. It’s not that funny.”

“It is pretty funny,” Phil disagreed, “but thanks for the sentiment.”

Dan thought about the word. “Hmm. I don’t usually think of myself and sentiment having much relation to each other.”

“Maybe I bring out the best in you,” Phil joked with a sunny smile.

Dan tilted his head, giving the idea some consideration. “Well, it’s the case for a lot of other people, so why not me?” Phil looked confused. “You tend to bring out the best in people,” Dan explained.

“I do?” Phil seemed surprised.

Dan shook his head fondly at Phil’s utter incomprehension of his own effect on the world. “Yes, Phil, you do.”

Phil ducked his head, suddenly shy. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Dan didn’t know what to say to that, so they both just sat there for a while. Phil went back to watching the snow falling outside the window as he sipped his coffee. Dan held his coffee mug in his hands and enjoyed the aroma while he watched Phil watch the snow. The coffee wasn’t so hot anymore, but the mug still felt good in his hands. It was nice to get to feel and smell things, one of the benefits of being in a human body.

“So what else would you like to do on your birthday? I gave you snow. What else?”

“Dogs!” Phil replied immediately, looking extremely excited.

“Um, no.” Dan sighed to show he was displaying the utmost patience. “I told you already. I don’t have any control over living creatures. You do understand that dogs are living creatures, right?” he asked sarcastically.

Phil huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Well, I mean, the fun ones are.”

Dan burst into raucous laughter. “Oh my god! That was the best joke I’ve ever heard you make! We’ll make an edgelord out of you yet!” Phil Lester, making a joke about dead dogs. Dan never would have thought he’d see the day.

Phil frowned in confusion a moment, then suddenly waved his arms in horror, exclaiming, “That’s not what I meant! I meant like, as opposed to plushies! Not … what you were thinking.” He made the cutest little disgusted face.

“Okay, okay,” Dan said, calming down from his fit of amused hysteria. “Aside from living dogs, what would make you happy on your birthday?”

Phil made his funny face where his lips moved to the side, the face he made when he was really thinking about something. “I don’t know. Maybe … sparklers?”

“Sparklers?”

“Yeah,” Phil enthused, getting more excited by the idea as he explained it. “You know, like at Guy Fawkes. You hold the stick in your hand, and you light the other end, and it gives off sparks. Didn’t you ever watch over me on Bonfire Night, all those years?”

“Yes, of course, I know what sparklers are, you moron. I just … you want sparklers for your birthday?” Dan couldn’t believe it. He had almost infinite powers to give Phil whatever he wanted, and Phil wanted … sparklers?

“I like sparklers,” Phil sulked defensively, and took a big slurpy drink of his coffee, which must have gone disgustingly cold by now. He then proceeded to cross his arms and stare pointedly out at the snow, ignoring Dan, his feelings clearly hurt.

The snow stopped.

Phil snorted, annoyed. “You did that on purpose.”

“Well, obviously,” Dan replied. “Otherwise, the snow might put out the flames on the sparklers.”

—

Phil had always loved sparklers, always loved how they seemed to crackle with life and excitement, how they left trails of light behind them when you moved them through the air, but the sparklers Dan created were different.

“Here,” Dan said. “Let me light it for you.” And just as the sparkler had come out of nowhere, the flame seemed to light it with only a gesture from Dan’s hand. The sparks began to fly, and Phil gazed at the glittering, flickering light with fascination. It made that hissing, popping sound that was so familiar from all the Bonfire Nights of his childhood.

He swept the sparkler through the air, and it left a stream of light behind it, just as it always had, just as he’d always loved, but the sparkler Dan had made left a trail that lingered longer than usual. Phil made loops and swirls, fascinated by the way the light remained in the sky for just a bit longer than he had seen before, long enough for him to create images. He drew a heart, then grinned at Dan. “Aren’t you going to do it, too?”

Dan lit a sparkler for himself and began drawing zigzags and rollercoasters of light. He wrote the name “Philip” in the sky, and then beamed at Phil.

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile like that,” Phil said with awe.

Dan looked at him in confusion, the smile falling from his face. “Smile like what?”

“Like … you were happy,” Phil explained. “All your other smiles, they seemed a little sad. But this time, you really just … you just looked happy.” He looked down at the snow. “I’m sorry I ruined it by bringing it up. As soon as I said anything about it, it was gone.”

“It’s not gone,” Dan said quietly, honestly, feeling a soft smile return to his face as he gazed at Phil. “It’s still here.”

Phil returned the smile with a tender one of his own, and then turned to write “Daniel” in the sky with a flourish. Then he drew a happy face afterward and turned to grin at Dan.

Dan snickered and drew an angry face with a “v” over the eyes as furious eyebrows. But Phil just laughed and drew loops around the unhappy face until suddenly Dan saw that it was a series of gracefully shaped hearts. Something inside him stirred again, and he pressed his free hand to his chest to hold it there, that feeling.

And suddenly he knew what it was.

He didn’t want to admit it—it was against all the rules—but it was true. And he wasn’t going to lie.

Not giving himself a chance to hesitate, he turned and wrote with his sparkler, “I love you,” against the darkness of the sky. He kept staring at the trail of glowing words until they had faded completely back into darkness.

He couldn’t look at Phil.

Dan might have been developing these feelings over years of watching and knowing him, but Phil had only met him tonight. To Phil, he was a virtual stranger. There was no way Phil could understand or return his feelings. And yet he hadn’t been able to hold it in, hadn’t been able to hide it, not from Phil. And so he’d written those words in light, and their effect would endure inside him forever, even though their illumination had faded from the night.

He couldn’t look at Phil. Couldn’t stand to see his expression. The pity.

He felt a warmth, a presence by his side, and he knew it was him, it was Phil, but Dan just couldn’t look up, the sparkler still absurdly in his hand, unmoving after writing those damning words in the sky.

But Phil moved to stand in front of him, close, so close, so warm and perfect and everything Dan hadn’t known he wanted, because he wasn’t allowed to want it, wasn’t supposed to want it, and finally Dan hesitantly raised his head to see an exquisitely gentle expression on Phil’s face.

“I love you, too,” Phil whispered, but the quiet words rang in Dan’s ears like a clarion bell. Words he’d never expected to hear, never never never, and then Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s and everything else disappeared. Dan’s entire world was those soft lips against his in a kiss that was everything he’d wanted, everything he wasn’t supposed to have, everything he’d dreamed of, and he realized now that he’d been wanting it for years, that he’d fallen in love with Phil long ago. Phil with his sunshine smile and his kindness and his love for the world. Phil who was like nothing Dan had ever seen before. Phil who was kissing him, kissing him, there in the snowy darkness with sparklers crackling in their hands. He finally began to register all this as Phil slowly, lingeringly pulled away and looked into Dan’s eyes.

Dan didn’t know what Phil saw there, but he knew what he saw in Phil’s eyes, and it was sweet and gentle and fierce all at once. “I love you, too,” Phil repeated. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. I know I only met you a few hours ago. But … I feel like I’ve known you for years. Maybe because you’ve been there for years, and somehow some part of me knew that and felt you there. I can’t explain it, but it’s true.” He raised a chilly hand to Dan’s cheek, where it warmed quickly against his skin. “I feel connected to you like I’ve never felt with anyone else. When you sat beside me on that bench, it was like finding another part of myself.”

Suddenly, Phil lowered his hand and looked away, biting his lip. “Does that sound stupid? You just … you wrote that with the sparkler … and then I just … maybe you didn’t even mean it. You were just messing around…”

Dan stopped those stupid words, pressing forward for another kiss, this time a little less gentle, and he let his sparkler fall to the snowy ground, where it hissed and spat before the flame died out. He wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist in his thick winter coat and pulled him nearer, wanting him as near as possible, wanting nothing more than Phil in this entire universe and beyond. He heard another hissing sound as Phil’s sparkler dropped beside his own, and then felt Phil’s arms around his neck as Phil tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and it was heaven. Dan had never been to any heaven as an angel, only taken orders like a good foot soldier in the supernatural bureaucracy, only watched over people on earth as they lived and loved in ways he never thought he could ever experience, but now he felt what he thought all those people had meant when they said something felt like heaven, because this was it.

When Phil finally pulled away—because Dan would never have pulled away, never never never, he would have continued kissing Phil until the end of time—they gazed at each other in the darkness. Without the sparklers, the night around them was lit only by the windows from the coffee shop a little distance away.

“I think I’ve been in love with you a long time,” Dan admitted hesitantly, looking into Phil’s eyes as they gleamed in the dim light. “I just didn’t know what it was, because I’d never felt that way before. I only knew that I cared what happened to you, a lot more than I’d ever cared about any of the other humans I’d protected. In hundreds of years of watching over people, I’d never felt this way. But until tonight … I didn’t know what it was.”

Phil slid his hands down from around Dan’s neck until he could entwine his fingers with Dan’s, both their hands linked together by their sides as they stood so close that their visible breaths mingled in the cold air.

“So what happens now?” Phil asked hesitantly.

And with that simple question, Phil shattered Dan’s heart and his world.

—

Dan had brushed the snow off the bench with the sleeve of his coat, and they both sat there under the streetlamp. Dan had pulled his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, clasping his hands and huddling there for warmth. This human body felt the cold. Not earlier, not when they played with the sparklers, when Phil smiled at him, when Phil stood close and they had … but now, now his body felt the cold.

He rested his cheek on his knees, face turned toward Phil, who sat on the bench beside him.

“So you’re just going to leave,” Phil said, his voice stiff and angry. “After all that, you’re just going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving, Phil. You know that. I’ll still be here.” Dan knew his words weren’t going to help, but he didn’t know anything that would, so all he could do was tell the truth.

Phil huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, right. My invisible friend. And you don’t even seem to care. You’re just sitting there, like … like it doesn’t even matter.” Phil turned his back on Dan, looking toward the warmly lit coffee shop where they’d been so happy an hour ago.

“Of course it matters,” Dan rasped out. His throat felt choked, so he cleared it, but it didn’t help. Maybe it was a human thing. “It always matters. But I can’t stay. Even now, I’m breaking the rules, just by being here, by being with you.” Phil didn’t say anything, the line of his back rigid in the lamplight. “I shouldn’t take human form and interact with you in the human world at all. But … tonight, on this bench … you seemed so sad … so lonely … I couldn’t leave you here alone. And so I came again…”

“Again?” Phil almost roared, and the sound echoed in the quiet of the late night in the little park. Dan realized that he had underestimated how upset Phil was. No, not upset—angry. Hurt and angry. Because of Dan. The opposite of what he would ever have wanted. But soon that would all be erased … along with everything else. The thought brought Dan little comfort. Phil turned to look at him again, his face contorted with anguish, his voice quiet now, rigidly controlled. “You’ve been here before? Did I not see you … or did you look different…?”

“I’ve come twice before,” Dan admitted. “Only two times … times when you seemed most lonely and I couldn’t bear it anymore. I’d never taken human shape before with any of my charges, but twice before tonight I did, I came to you … but it wasn’t the same. I just … you needed to talk, needed someone to listen … needed to know that someone cared. And so I came, and I listened to you, and I let you know that I am always here, always with you, always caring … and it seemed to help. And then I erased your memories of my visit, but the comfort lingered and your smile returned … and I felt better, that I had helped you, even if you wouldn’t remember me. I would remember for both of us.” He sniffed, and told himself it was the cold, not oncoming tears, and said, “Just like I’ll remember for both of us this time, too.”

Dan, tightened his arms around his knees and turned his face as soon as he felt the tears begin to sting his eyes, turned his face away from Phil and rested his other cheek on his knees, looking away into the darkness beyond the street lamp.

“Wait a minute,” Phil said haltingly. “You’re going to erase my memories?” Dan didn’t reply, because he knew it wasn’t really a question, not after what he’d just said.

“This whole night?” Phil continued. “Everything? You’re going to wipe it all from my brain like none of it ever happened? Does it mean that little to you?” Phil sounded absolutely destroyed by the final few words, his voice shredded almost to nothing.

“I don’t have a choice,” Dan cried, still looking away, unable to look at Phil and see the expression on his face right now. “There are rules! I don’t get to just do whatever I want, Phil. I’m not like you! I’m a guardian angel, and we have rules we have to follow or the entire structure would collapse.”

After a long silence, Dan finally turned to look back at Phil, and he looked angrier than Dan had ever seen him before. An anger that roiled beneath the surface, while Phil’s face looked perfectly still. When their eyes met, Phil said slowly, carefully, “So why did you say you loved me? Why did you kiss me? Why did you do any of that, when all the time you were planning to take it back?”

Dan didn’t know what to say.

Phil nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Just getting your jollies, huh?” Then he laughed with no humor in the sound. “Christmas was a month ago, you moron.” He froze, then said, “Hell, you could have been here, then, too, and I would never know it. You could just keep playing with my brain over and over again.” Dan could see his anger grow with every sentence now, with every word. “Did we ever have sex? Because I suppose it wouldn’t count as rape if I was willing at the time, but I’m not sure if you erased my memory of it afterward…”

Dan shouted, “Stop! I told you! I was only here those other two times, and all I did was listen. This was the first time I ever … I never even realized how I felt about you until tonight.”

“And so you thought you’d take advantage of that nifty memory erasure power…” Phil began, but Dan interrupted him.

“I didn’t plan any of this!” Dan sobbed, and tears were streaking down his face now, hot against the cold of his skin. “I just … it took me by surprise. I’d never felt this way, never … never sat in a cozy window seat with a handsome man I loved … never played. I was never a child, Phil, so I’d never played before, never laughed with a friend and felt a sparkler in my hand and swung it through the air.” He wiped at his cheeks then dropped his chin to his knees again. “I … I lost control, Phil. I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to have any of this. It’s against the rules, and this must be the reason, because I should never lose control like that. I’m sorry. I should have just … I should have just listened to you like I did before and then gone. Even that would have broken the rules, but it wouldn’t have been so selfish. I should never have let the rest of that happen. It was very wrong of me. I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes, because he could feel more tears gathering, threatening to fall.

Phil’s voice was soft when he said, “You were never a child? And you think it was wrong to play?”

Dan opened his eyes, and he gazed at Phil through eyelashes covered in teardrops that glistened like crystals in the lamplight. As Dan looked at him, they framed Phil’s face like some kind of ironic halo. “I’m not human, Phil. I don’t have a life. I just have an eternity of watching from the outside, an eternity of guarding the human world, keeping people safe. That’s all I’ll ever have. Except … tonight.”

“You said you weren’t supposed to have any of this. I thought you meant love, kissing, all of that. But you mean the rest, too? Even just … even just the coffee? I noticed you only pretended to sip at yours. Was that why you wouldn’t take a bite of my cupcake? Because someone told you it wasn’t allowed?”

Dan sighed. Phil just didn’t understand. Dan gazed at him through the scattered stars of his own tears. “We don’t have anything for ourselves, Phil. We aren’t supposed to. We don’t get to have guardian angel parties, even with white cake, let alone red velvet cupcakes. We don’t have anything for ourselves. We only exist to serve. I only watch. I watch your Bonfire Nights, with the sparklers. I watch you walk through crowded streets and bump elbows with strangers and apologize to them because you’re always too nice. I watch you laugh with your family and friends, watch how you love them, how they smile at you with such affection. I watch you play video games and drink pumpkin spice lattes and take the Tube. I watch you curl up by warm fires with a blanket over your lap and a cup of hot chocolate. I watch you live a life, but I don’t live, Phil. I don’t get to have that. I was created to watch over you, to keep you safe, to make your life as healthy and happy as possible. And that’s what I do. It’s my place in the world. And I treasure it. I treasure my ability to help you, even though it is from afar. It’s my reason for existence.”

Neither of them said anything for a long beat, and then Dan whispered, “I don’t get to have a life, Phil. And, no matter what happened tonight, no matter how I feel about you, I can’t let you keep the memories, and I don’t get to stay. I just … can’t. I have no right. I just … I’m not human.”

This time the silence stretched on so long that Dan wondered if Phil was going to just get up and walk away. But then Phil asked, “So … if you don’t have guardian angel parties … does that mean you’ve never had a cupcake?”

Dan laughed on a sob. “No, Phil,” he laughed at the absurdity and his own grief. “I’ve never had a cupcake.” His cheeks were wet again now, the tears rapidly cooling in the wintery air.

And then suddenly his left wrist was grabbed forcefully, causing his other arm to fall loose and his legs to slide off the bench. He turned his head to gaze up at Phil, who stood beside him, holding Dan’s wrist in a tight grip. “Then come on,” Phil said in the most determined voice Dan had ever heard from him. “Because I’m buying you a fucking cupcake.”

Dan hadn’t heard Phil use that particular swear word often, aside from when he played video games, so he knew Phil was serious about this ridiculous idea. But this was neither the time nor the place. In fact, there was no time or place in which it would ever be appropriate for Phil Lester to buy him a fucking cupcake.

“Are you going to make me drag you there?” Phil asked through gritted teeth. “Because that might traumatize the girl who was so nice to us.”

Dan sighed. “Why would you want to buy me a cupcake, Phil? After everything I’ve just told you?”

“If you don’t get to stay…” Phil looked away and his throat worked for a moment before he continued. “If you don’t get to stay, if you have to go back to that, then I want to at least give you a cupcake to remember.”

“That sounds like a terrible Hallmark movie,” Dan laughed through his tears. “A Cupcake to Remember.”

—

The cupcake had come with three candles on it. Dan looked at Phil in question as the barista walked back behind the counter, well away from their window table.

“One candle for each time you’ve come to see me,” Phil explained with a grin. “Like your three birthdays.”

Dan would never understand how Phil could take such absolutely absurd situations and simply adjust to them, simply accept them and move on. Now he had accepted that Dan had been here before, and he didn’t hold on to any anger or recriminations. Instead, he just got Dan a cupcake with three candles.

Dan blew the candles out. Like he’d seen a million times. Like a real person having a real birthday.

“So what do you think?” Phil asked when Dan took the first bite, his voice eager as he watched Dan’s face.

A bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny—not accustomed to being the one observed—Dan chewed and swallowed, which in itself was an odd sensation. “It’s … interesting.”

“Just interesting?” Phil sounded disappointed. “It’s a red velvet cupcake! You don’t like it?”

Dan considered how to explain. “Well, to be honest, I’ve never eaten anything before, so I don’t really have anything to compare it to.” He took another bite. The cake felt spongey in his mouth, with a rather pleasing texture. He liked it better than the sweeter icing.

Phil’s jaw dropped, literally. The gaping mouth was not his most attractive look. “You’ve … you’ve never eaten anything before?”

Dan looked around, making sure the barista was not within hearing distance. “Phil … I’m not human. Guardian angels don’t eat. We just … watch. I just watch over you. I see you eat every day, see you enjoy food, but I don’t get to enjoy it myself. I’m glad when I see you enjoy it, though. I like to see you happy. If all I can do is watch, I like to watch you be happy.” He chuckled a bit to himself. “Food seems to make you very happy. Especially popcorn and sweets.” He took another bite of the cupcake. Eating really was a very strange experience.

Phil shook his head in wonder. “You really … wait! Here! Drink some of my coffee!” He pushed his mug into Dan’s hand. This time they hadn’t ordered two, just a coffee for Phil and the cupcake for Dan. Dan looked at Phil in confusion. “A cupcake is much better with coffee! And I’ll bet you’ve never drunk coffee before, either, even though I’ve seen you hold it in your hands.”

Obediently, not sure why he felt compelled to humor Phil’s whims, Dan took a sip of the coffee. It was warm and sweet and smooth in his mouth, and it washed cupcake crumbs with it as it flowed down his throat. He imagined he could even feel its warmth in his belly. He nodded to Phil. “It’s good.” He smiled.

In the end, the cupcake defeated him, and Phil had to finish it, which he did with great enjoyment, despite having eaten an entire cupcake of his own not long before. Dan, in turn, finished the coffee. He decided that he preferred coffee to cupcakes, but opted to keep that thought to himself, lest he hurt Phil’s feelings. Phil had been so excited about the cupcake, after all.

They sat silently together at the table, an empty plate in front of Phil, an empty mug in Dan’s hands, both of them watching the snow which had begun falling again outside. This time, Dan hadn’t needed to prompt it.

“So,” Phil began softly, “you can’t stay.” Dan shook his head. They met each other’s eyes, sharing their regret. “Do you need to leave right away? Could you stay until tomorrow?” Phil looked hopeful, but Dan silently shook his head again.

Dan looked down into his empty mug. He’d tasted food and drink for the first time tonight. He’d played in the snow. He’d kissed someone he loved. He couldn’t ask for more. He’d already taken too much, far more than he should.

“This is all…” he began, but Phil interrupted him.

“Against the rules. I know.” Phil sounded bitter now. “You know, these rules really suck.”

That surprised a laugh out of Dan, but then he nodded in reluctant agreement. “They really really do.”

“Are you going to erase my memory now? Leave me sitting in a coffee shop wondering why there are three candles on my empty plate?” Phil’s quiet voice held pain and acceptance.

How could Phil accept even this?

How could he accept it when even Dan could not?

Because Dan found that he couldn’t. He must be the worst fucking guardian angel in the history of existence, because these rules made no fucking sense to him, and he absolutely could not accept that he had to erase himself and this wonderful, beautiful night from Phil’s memory.

“What if…” Dan began hesitantly. Could he really do this? Visiting Phil was one thing, but this … this would be a much more serious breach of the rules. He’d never heard of anyone doing such a thing. “What if I didn’t erase your memory?” he finished in a quiet rush.

Phil’s head came up and he stared at Dan, shocked. “I thought that was…” but Dan interrupted him.

“Against the rules. Yeah. It is. But what if I didn’t?” Dan gazed anxiously at Phil.

Phil shrugged in confusion. “Then I would remember everything we did tonight.” He smiled. “Everything.” His gaze flicked down to Dan’s lips, then back up to his eyes.

“But, that isn’t everything that would change,” Dan insisted, frustrated with Phil’s lack of understanding. “You would always know, from now on. You would always know about me. That I’m watching. That I’m there. That’s what’s not permitted. Humans can’t know about us or it might change their behavior, and we’re merely observers. We’re not supposed to change your lives except in the small ways we help to keep you safe.”

Phil put his hand on Dan’s underneath the table and met his eyes with steely determination. “So I would know for the rest of my life that I wasn’t alone, that you were always with me, that someone was always on my side and watching out for me. I don’t see how that could be a bad thing.”

“I’m not going to do it,” Dan said, making the sudden decision at the same time as the words erupted from his mouth. “I’m not going to erase your memory.”

“But what about the rules?” Phil asked, suddenly anxious. “Will something happen to you if you don’t?”

“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing this before. But I’m not erasing this night, not for anything. I don’t want to hold the memory for both of us … I want us to hold it together.” They smiled at each other like shy co-conspirators.

They held hands tightly, and Dan never wanted to let go. He’d heard it so many times, but he’d never understood it when humans said that, when they said, “I never want to let go,” but now he knew. Because now he felt it.

“Are you sure you can’t stay? Absolutely sure?” Phil sounded despondent.

Dan felt pain in his chest and wondered if this was what humans meant when they talked about “heartbreak.” How could he learn so much in one night? And all by breaking the rules! Was this why the rules existed, to prevent guardian angels from learning about humans, instead of preventing humans from learning about guardian angels? Or both?

He spoke firmly, despite his own agonized feelings. “There are rules, Phil, and I might be breaking a lot of them tonight, but this is the biggest one. It’s impossible. No one has ever done it.”

“Just because no one has ever done it doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Phil replied with just the slightest amount of hope in his voice, but Dan just shook his head and gazed morosely into the empty coffee cup.

“I can’t stay, Phil. I have to go. But you know I’m not actually going anywhere. I’ll still be here.” He looked up to meet Phil’s beautiful, gentle, loving eyes. So sad, but so beautiful. “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything,” Phil replied without hesitation.

“Promise me you’ll move out of that miserable flat,” Dan insisted, fighting off his own despair with bravado. “Away from that terrible cunt of a flatmate. Find someplace of your own, someplace you can be happy.”

Tears gathered in those beautiful eyes. “I promise.”

“You know I’ll see if you break your word.” Dan tried to smile, but felt he probably did a poor job of it.

Phil gave a wobbly smile of his own. “I won’t. I’ll give David my notice tonight and find another place. I’ll be out by the end of next month.”

“Just … be happy, Phil. Nobody deserves it more than you do.”

Phil didn’t say anything, just gazed wordlessly at Dan.

“And … just know … I’m always here,” Dan added at last.

They both sat there a moment before Dan gave into his impulse, winding his hands into Phil’s hair and pulling him into a quick, fierce kiss which immediately gentled into something achingly sweet before he let their lips part. He looked into Phil’s pale eyes for a long moment, enjoying the warmness of him, the realness of him, the realness of them both, their last moment of togetherness. And then he let go and stood up from the table.

Dan walked away from Phil and past the wide-eyed barista, opening the shop door and hearing the chime as he walked through. He would not let himself look back as the door swung shut behind him. He stepped into the falling snow and relished its cold on his skin as he walked away from the coffee shop and into the darkness beyond its windows, beyond the lamplights. He walked into the dark until all he left behind was the imprint of two zippered boots on pristine white snow.

—

He saw Phil sit alone in the coffee shop for a long time, holding the empty mug in his hands and looking at the three candles on the empty plate in front of him, occasionally gazing out at the snow with a melancholy smile and eyes shining with tears.

And then he got to watch Phil walk home to tell his shocked fucking fuckwad of a flatmate that he was moving out.

—

Phil and his friend Chris packed kitchenware together into a large box.

“How long have you been flatmates with this bloke?” Chris asked.

Phil shrugged. “About three years, I think.”

“And you still keep all your plates and mugs and things in separate cabinets? After all this time?” Chris seemed offended on Phil’s behalf. Dan could tell he thought David must be a real twat.

He was absolutely correct on that score, of course.

“David didn’t want me using his things,” Phil replied, and Dan wanted to strangle the selfish little twat with his inconveniently incorporeal hands. But the all-important rules said he mustn’t affect the lives of anyone other than his assigned charge, which was Phil, so he couldn’t even cause any kind of accidental mishaps that might send Phil’s soon-to-be-former flatmate slipping on some conveniently located ice or anything. Phil added, “He says I break things.”

Well, okay, Dan had to admit that was fair.

Chris nodded. “Well, that’s fair,” he said, echoing Dan’s thoughts. Dan liked Chris. In fact, Dan liked all of Phil’s small collection of friends. Phil had good taste in people, in general, because he looked for humor and kindness above all, and those were excellent qualities, in Dan’s opinion. Dan had to admit that he even considered himself to display those qualities. He might not be the most cheerful entity in the universe, but he did think of himself as kind—to those who deserved it—and he certainly saw the humor in things—probably even in many things he shouldn’t. He liked irony, sarcasm, and dark humor. He wasn’t sure if those above him in the power structure would approve, but he didn’t really care.

He cared less about them, and about the rules, than he used to, even if he’d never been the most obedient and obliging of employees. He’d always tried, and he still tried today … but he just cared more about something else now. Or, rather, someone.

Half an hour later, Phil and Chris began carrying boxes down the steps to the small lorry Phil had rented. Phil misstepped and very nearly fell all the way down the stairway and broke his damned neck, but Dan made the stair quickly rise up to meet his gigantic clumsy foot, and Phil instead only came dangerously close to dropping a box full of mismatched crockery.

“Watch it there, mate!” Chris called out in surprised concern. “You’ll crack your head open falling down these concrete stairs!”

But Phil only took a few more careful steps before replying with a slight smile, “My guardian angel must be watching over me.”

In his incorporeal heart Dan smiled, too, even though Phil couldn’t see him.

—

On Valentine’s Day, Phil refused his friends’ invitation to go out together. Phil often refused invitations to go out, as he preferred to stay in, so this was nothing unusual, but instead of video games or his other usual pastimes, Phil sat on his new sofa in his new flat, surrounded by cardboard moving boxes, and watched The Notebook on Netflix, sobbing as if his heart was breaking.

Perhaps it was.

Or perhaps it already had.

Had Dan done that to him? Had he betrayed his only reason for existence by actually hurting the one person he was meant to protect from harm?

In the evening, Phil took a bus to the coffee house near his old flat and ordered a red velvet cupcake. The young man at the counter told him that they didn’t sell red velvet cupcakes. When Phil argued that he’d bought one only two weeks prior, the employee assured him that the bakery did not provide them with red velvet cupcakes, and so they’d never been available at this location.

Phil nodded slowly, giving a secret little wry smile as if he understood that Dan had made those particular cupcakes happen on that particular evening just for him, and Dan again felt a smile burgeon within his angelic heart. It was a slightly sad incorporeal smile, though, because it hurt to see Phil back in that coffee house alone, remembering him.

Phil ordered a plain chocolate cupcake with a cup of coffee and went to sit down. Half the tables were full, including the one at the window, so Phil sat at another table nearby to wait for his name to be called. With more than one table occupied, the employee working the counter certainly wouldn’t bring orders to the patrons’ tables as the friendly barista had on the night Dan and Phil had been there together.

When Phil’s name was called, he fetched his order and sat at a table not too far from the window, discreetly watching the couple sitting there. When they moved to stand up, Phil moved as quickly as was politely possible to claim the table before anyone else could.

He sat a long time at the table—their table—gazing out the window at the falling snow. He nursed his coffee, drinking the entire thing as slowly as possible, but he only ate half his cupcake, and there were no candles on the plate beside it when he left it behind.

Afterward, Phil sat on the bench in the little park until he was shivering with cold. His dark hair drenched with melted snow, he walked slowly back to the bus stop, where he sat with his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground, until the bus eventually came to take him back to his new flat.

—

“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil, and that was Lion Babe! Did you like it? If so, shoot me a message to tell me what you think. And now I have a special dedication. It’s a belated Valentine’s Day dedication to everyone out there who spent this particular holiday alone. Don’t give up, because there may still be someone out there for you! This is an oldie but a goodie, and it’s called ’Someone to Watch Over Me’…”

—

Phil visited Florida with his family, and Martyn commented that his little brother seemed more subdued than usual.

“I’m just … missing someone,” Phil replied, obviously so relaxed in the company of loved ones that he wasn’t thinking to be circumspect about his words.

Martyn heartily clapped him on the back. “I didn’t even know you were dating anybody!” he said with obvious happiness.

Phil blinked. He looked at Martyn. “Oh,” he stammered, “I’m not.”

Martyn looked confused, but said in a more subdued voice, “Well, then, if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Dan knew Phil wouldn’t talk about it.

—

Phil attended a major YouTube convention, where he met a great many people—both members of his audience and fellow content creators—who hugged him, and Dan wanted to cut all their arms off, because these strangers shouldn’t get to hug Phil when Dan couldn’t.

The desire to dismember people wasn’t a very appropriate thought for a guardian angel, but since when had Dan confined himself to appropriate thoughts?

One fan after another told Phil that watching him had changed their lives, and Dan just kept thinking, “I’m not alive, I don’t have a life, I don’t get to have a life, but … same.”

—

“You’re listening to the Internet Takeover with AmazingPhil! I’ve got a request here from @snow-dude, so we’re going to play Evanescence’s ‘My Immortal’...”

—

Phil looked more uncomfortable at this particular party than Dan had perhaps ever seen him before. He’d been told to expect just a few friends, but the few friends had brought another few friends, and Phil’s mate’s flat ended up filled with more people than Phil usually socialized with in a month. Or even two.

Wearing his minimal Halloween costume of cat ears on his head and whiskers drawn on his face, Phil sat on a sofa in the lounge, looking at his phone, obviously hoping no one would talk to him.

A rather handsome fellow dressed as Thor—lacking somewhat in the muscles department, despite the fact that he obviously did work out a bit—joined Phil on the sofa and said hello. Dan would have gnashed his teeth if he had any.

“Hi,” Thor said, smiling in a very friendly way. Not too friendly, not edging into creepy, but just friendly enough to put a nerd like Phil at ease.

“Hi,” Phil replied, putting his phone down like any polite Englishman would when confronting a blatant social assault.

“A cat, huh?” Thor commented. Dan decided that the guy must be a moron.

“A cat/human hybrid,” Phil replied, then held up his hands like claws and showed his teeth before laughing awkwardly.

Thor laughed along with him. “So … um … Bryony tells me you do YouTube. I know she used to be into that, but I don’t know much about it. What sort of videos do you make?”

Phil looked physically pained at his complete inability to escape this conversation. And then Thor slid his hand down onto Phil’s shoulder and squeezed slightly. Dan didn’t have fists, but in his mind he clenched them anyway. He clenched his nonexistent fists in an overwhelming desire to punch this Thor fucker in the fucking face.

But Phil just scooted away slightly, avoiding Thor’s hand, and looked away. “Um … I’m sort of … I’m sort of hung up on someone…”

Thor looked mortified. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry! Bryony didn’t tell me, or I wouldn’t have…”

Phil smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I haven’t really told anybody about it. But I just can’t move on, you know?”

Thor looked extremely uncomfortable when faced with a complete stranger’s romantic sob story—he, too, was English, after all—and so he removed himself from the situation pretty speedily.

“That’s right!” Dan thought. “You just keep moving! And you don’t look anything like Thor, anyway! Just so you know!”

But Dan had watched every moment of Phil’s life this past year, so he knew Phil hadn’t dated anyone in the past several months, and so if he was hung up on someone … it was still Dan. And that really shouldn’t make him happy, because it was making Phil miserable, and Dan’s job was to try to keep Phil happy and healthy.

But it still made him happy.

Not that Phil was sad. He wasn’t happy about that, of course not.

But the fact that Phil still thought about him, about that night in the snow together … he couldn’t help but feel happy about that, because Dan hadn’t forgotten it for a single second since it happened.

—

Phil scrubbed the stovetop from where he’d spilled some pasta and it had burned into a crusted-on mess. He had to exert quite a bit of effort, but he got into a sort of rhythm with his scrubbing as he hummed in time with his movements.

Then Dan recognized the song Phil was humming.

Knowing Phil, it wouldn’t be long before he started to sing, and sure enough a moment later Phil started belting out Betty Who’s “Somebody Loves You.”

Who’s around when the days feel long Who’s around when you can’t be strong Who’s around when you’re losing your mind Who cares that you get home safe Who knows you can’t be replaced Who thinks that you’re one of a kind

Dan tried to contain an inward chuckle at Phil singing alone there in his kitchen, scrubbing at his disgusting stovetop, but he didn’t have to try very hard. He actually didn’t find it all that funny, because he really hoped that Phil thought of him when he sang this song.

Dan suddenly realized he’d been hearing Phil humming this tune for days, but just hadn’t identified it until now.

Phil continued singing.

I’m around when your head is heavy I’m around when your hands aren’t steady I’m around when your day’s gone all wrong

Dan listened until he finally couldn’t help it and in his mind he chimed in unison with Phil, “Ooh somebody loves you…” even though Phil, of course, couldn’t hear him.

—

“Phil? Martyn? Will one of you come help your poor mother?” Phil’s mum called out to her sons. Most of the decorations already adorned the tree, but only the pinnacle remained.

Phil looked up from where he had been placing one of the final baubles on a lower branch and asked, “What is it, Mum?”

“It’s the angel,” she replied, and Phil blanched. “We need to put it on the top of the tree, and I’m not tall enough, even with the stool.”

“Ask Martyn,” Phil choked, and he raced out of the room.

Phil fled to the guest room containing his things and closed the door, sliding down to sit with his back against it, making sure that no one would follow him in to ask what was wrong.

And then Phil cried. Silently into his hands, not wanting any of his family to hear. He cried for a long time.

And if Dan could have, he would have cried, too.

—

Phil was eating dinner with four good friends at a rather nice Thai restaurant. Nothing uncomfortably fancy, but not a place he would casually frequent. Dressed much more nicely than usual, he seemed quite at ease and happy with his companions, who laughed perhaps a bit more loudly than he did, but Phil was rarely a loud person, except occasionally when playing video games.

Phil smiled with contentment, and Dan couldn’t help feeling as if he’d played a role in getting Phil to this place in his life, that he’d set Phil on this better path even if it had only been by encouraging him to leave that wretched flatmate behind last year.

Dan could barely believe the change in Phil’s circumstances. He was thriving now: living in his own flat which he’d furnished with his own things exactly to his own tastes, succeeding admirably both on YouTube and on his radio show at the BBC, closer than ever to both friends and family.

But there was one fly in the ointment. That lingering bit of sadness behind his eyes. That sense that he longed for something—someone—he’d lost forever. Those song dedications. His refusal to date.

—

It was just too much. Watching him suffer like that … it was too much.

—

A pair of black zippered boots appeared, attached to a black-clad form slightly hidden in the grass some distance from the door to the restaurant. It had been a warm January and so the snow had not settled in the warmer areas, but a bit lingered at Dan’s feet in the shadows.

He stepped onto the pavement and walked to the restaurant’s door, opening it and going inside, where a rather officious-looking little man at a podium asked him if he had a reservation. Dan hesitated a moment, then told the host that he was with the Lester party.

As the man led him through the restaurant, Dan began to feel increasingly nervous. How would Phil react? Were people staring at him? Could they tell that something was not quite right about Dan? Would Phil’s friends find him odd? Would he make Phil uncomfortable at his own birthday celebration? Perhaps this had been a bad idea.

But it was too late to turn back now, because Phil had seen him.

Phil’s friends continued their conversation, but Phil simply stared at Dan, his mouth slightly open in shock. When Dan arrived at the table, Phil didn’t say anything, though his friends all fell silent, turning to look at Dan with open curiosity. The host glanced uncertainly at Dan, obviously wondering now whether Dan had lied about being a member of the party at the table, wondering whether he’d be forced to somehow eject Dan from the premises despite Dan’s comparatively impressive size.

Dan glanced at the floor, then back to meet Phil’s eyes again. “Surprise?” he offered lamely. “May I … I thought perhaps I might join you. If … if you like.”

The restaurant’s host glanced between Phil and Dan, clearly uncertain. “Sir, this gentleman said he was a member of your party. But if he is bothering you…”

“No!” Phil replied quickly. “No! He’s not bothering me … us. I mean … yes … I know him … he is with us.”

With their odd-numbered party of five, there was, in fact, a spare place setting at the table. It was at the opposite end from where Phil sat, and Dan hesitated, nervous about joining the group and sitting so alone. Phil’s friends looked from Phil to Dan, clearly waiting for some explanation of the situation.

Phil stammered in obvious disbelief, “This is my … friend … Dan. I … I haven’t … I haven’t seen him … in a really long time. I had no idea he might be coming.” His friends seemed a bit confused, and Phil noticed their reactions. “He’s a very dear friend,” he hurried to explain, and Dan felt a surge of emotion at the description. “Would you … would you mind changing seats so that we can sit together? It’s been far too long since I’ve seen him and … I just…” Phil trailed off in wordless shock. But his friends just smiled and rearranged themselves, moving their plates and things with them as they scooted along to make room for Dan to sit at Phil’s right side.

“Hi,” Dan said quietly, with a bit of a shy smile.

“Hi,” Phil replied with more happiness in his eyes than Dan had seen in a very long time. In a year, perhaps, since that night in the snow. That tiny lingering sadness had completely disappeared.

“I’m Bryony,” one of Phil’s friends introduced herself when it became apparent that Phil was not going to do the honors. Dan already knew her name, of course. She was one of Phil’s closest friends, and Dan already liked her immensely. He gave her a warm smile.

Phil jolted out of his daze and quickly introduced everyone else. They all welcomed Dan with open friendliness, as kind and generous as Phil himself. Phil had such excellent friends. Dan felt honored to finally meet them. He said as much, and they looked at him oddly. “Phil has … spoken of you often,” he said awkwardly, because that wasn’t quite a lie. Phil had spoken of them often, just not directly to Dan. “I feel as if I know you already.”

“That’s odd,” Phil’s friend Thomas commented, glancing at Phil. “He’s never mentioned you.”

“I asked him not to,” Dan explained quickly, uncertain if perhaps he was just making things worse. “Our relationship has been … an odd one.” Thomas’s eyebrows went up, and Phil’s friends exchanged knowing looks. “Not the way that sounds…” Dan stuttered, realizing that he’d just implied a secret romantic relationship and may have made Phil uncomfortable.

“Exactly the way that sounds,” Phil said firmly, smiling at Dan. He looked at his friends. “I’m glad you finally get to meet him. Dan and I have been very close for a long time, but I never thought I’d get this chance for you all to know each other.” He reached out and took Dan’s hand with a smile so full of bliss that all Dan’s doubts fell away.

“How long are you staying?” Phil asked. “I mean … how long will you be in town?” He glanced uncertainly at his friends, clearly trying to behave and sound as normal as possible in this ridiculously abnormal situation.

“I thought I’d stick around this time,” Dan offered tentatively. “Move here. We could see each other all the time, you know? So I’m looking for a flat.” Dan floundered. “And … er … a job, I suppose. I’ll need one of those.”

Phil’s face went pale, then flushed. “You’re … you’re staying?” he asked, wonder in his voice.

Dan nodded. “If that’s … what you want.”

“Yes!” Phil exclaimed without hesitation. “Yes, that’s what I want! Of course that’s what I want! I can’t believe … you’re really staying? Permanently?”

“Permanently,” Dan affirmed, reassured by Phil’s excited response.

“Well, if you’re staying,” Phil’s friend Thomas interrupted with good cheer, “then you may as well break bread with us. We’re sharing everything family-style, so help yourself!”

Dan looked at the various dishes on the table with some trepidation. He knew what all the foods were, as he’d watched Phil eat and discuss them on previous occasions, but he had no idea how they would actually taste. He reached out toward a green curry, which he knew Phil liked quite a bit, but Phil put a hand on his arm to stop him. “That one’s a bit spicy,” Phil warned. “You might want to start with something milder. Maybe the pad thai.”

Phil’s friends had resumed their eating, but now paused again to glance in confusion at this exchange.

“This is my first time…” Dan began, uncertain how to explain.

“His first time having Thai food,” Phil finished for him, saving him. Dan nodded. It was true, after all.

Everyone else at the table expressed their surprise that Dan had never had Thai food before and all made suggestions regarding which dishes he should try first. Dan followed Phil’s suggestions and ended up with a modest amount of food on his plate.

Dan had heard people talk about food millions of times. He’d watched people eat millions of times. But that red velvet cupcake last year was the only food he’d ever tasted, and now ... he tasted all kinds of flavors. Like a real person, he was just … eating, which was completely different from observing it from the outside, from an immeasurable distance.

It was an overwhelming experience. So many sensations all at once.

He glanced at Phil and saw him watching Dan with concern. And suddenly everything was all right. He was with Phil. He took another bite of pad thai, and he tasted noodles, and he heard Phil’s friends talk to him as if he were real, because he was real, he was finally real, and he was human, and he was with Phil.

He chewed his noodles and swallowed, and gave Phil a smile. He wasn’t just an invisible guardian anymore—he was part of this world. With Phil.

In the end, he decided that his favorite dish was the fresh spring roll with shrimp, dipped in a peanut sauce that left a slight burning sensation on his tongue. That must be what “spicy” tasted like.

When they’d all finished and the plates had been cleared from the table, a member of the waitstaff arrived with a white-frosted cake topped with four flaming candles. “Three candles for the decades, and one for the additional year,” Bryony explained, and everyone laughed. Phil blew out the candles, and the cake was placed on the table where they could all see it in greater detail.

On the white surface, a forest scene had been hand drawn in primarily red piping. Squirrels, rabbits, foxes, and hedgehogs cavorted among plants and trees piped in green, with blue-piped stars scattered above their heads. The candles had been planted among the stars.

Dan immediately recognized the style, and along with everyone else he turned to look at Phil’s friend Will, a well-known artist. Tears gleamed in Phil’s eyes as he whispered, “It’s so beautiful.” Dan couldn’t help remembering the horribly disappointing cake from the previous year, and he felt proud that he had encouraged Phil to grow closer to his true friends instead of relying so much on a flatmate who didn’t care for him at all.

Dan gave Will a warm smile and said quite honestly, “I recognize your art style. It was wonderful of you to do this for Phil.” Will returned Dan’s smile and looked down at the table shyly, nodding his silent thanks for the compliment.

“But we can’t cut this up!” Phil insisted. “It’s too pretty to eat!” Bryony took several photos of Phil with the cake, then several of the cake itself, then encouraged him to cut a slice, because the beauty would be well preserved in photos. Still, Phil flinched slightly when he sliced into the cake for the first time. “Who wants some stars?” he asked, then he glanced at Dan.

“I want the hedgehog,” Dan requested in an effort to sound normal and divert attention away from himself.

“Take the stars for yourself,” Bryony suggested. “You certainly deserve them, and more.” She leaned in to give Phil a kiss on the cheek. Dan decided he rather loved Bryony. He hoped they would become good friends.

The idea of having friends felt strange, but good. Something fluttered in his stomach, and he thought it might be happiness. He would have to identify all these feelings as time went on.

He had so much to learn.

“It’s red velvet!” Phil cried as he pulled the first slice out of the cake. Everyone laughed at his surprise. Because of course these people would know he loved red velvet, that it was his favorite, and they would go out of their way to get him what he wanted most, and they would spend hours decorating it, and they would give him the quiet sort of party he enjoyed. Dan doubted that anyone had purchased this cake at any Tesco, and he looked at Bryony, guessing that she had probably baked it herself.

This was friendship, and this was love. This was the very best of what it meant to be human.

This was what Dan had chosen, and he doubted he would ever regret it for a moment.

—

When they emerged from the restaurant, everyone began discussing who should share taxis, all in a noisy, happy jumble of conversation.

Dan looked at Phil. “Want to go for a walk?” It wasn’t only food he would need to get used to. Five different people talking to him across the dinner table had been rather a lot to follow. He just longed for a moment alone with Phil.

“But it’s started snowing again!” Thomas objected, sounding concerned.

“That’s perfect,” Phil said, smiling at Dan.

—

“So you just quit?”

“So I just quit,” Dan affirmed as they walked side by side along the pavement and the snow fell lightly around them, landing on their hair and coats.

“How do you ‘quit’ being a guardian angel? Do you submit your letter of resignation to heaven or something?” Phil sounded amazed and baffled.

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know anything about heaven. I always just got orders to watch over someone, and so I did it. And today I decided I wasn’t going to do it anymore. That I was going to be with you for real, instead.”

“So you quit?” Phil was repeating himself now, still sounding dazed. “You just walked away?”

“So I quit. I just took human form again and decided I’m going to stay here.” Dan didn’t say anything else for a moment, but he stared intently down at his feet as he took each step. Finally, he burst out, “I couldn’t stand to be with you, but have you not able to see me.” Dan clenched his fists as they walked. It had been horrible. “I couldn’t stand to not be able to talk to you, or drink coffee with you, or … I couldn’t stand to not be with you, really with you, not even for one more day.”

Phil put a hand on Dan’s arm to stop him, to turn him and meet his eyes. They stood in the falling snow and looked at each other. “I thought you said it was impossible,” Phil reminded him in hushed tones, as if he couldn’t believe this was real.

Dan reached up to take Phil’s hand in his, smiling at him. “And you said I couldn’t know if it was impossible, just because no one had ever done it.” He leaned in to kiss Phil softly, then whispered, “I did the impossible for you, Phil Lester.”

And then Phil gave him a real kiss.

—

“You know, if you’re going to be a proper human person, you’ll need a last name,” Phil teased as they continued their walk, hands linked and swinging idly between them.

Dan hadn’t thought of that. He considered. “Well, I’m sort of being born in winter, right? ‘Winter is coming,’ and all that. Perhaps something from ‘Game of Thrones,’” he mused.

Phil chuckled. “Daniel Stark?”

Dan shook his head, laughing. “I’d feel too much like the son of Iron Man or something.”

“Dan Lannister?” Phil suggested, clearly joking now. “Daniel Greyjoy?” He snorted, he was laughing so hard.

Dan tilted his head, thinking. “I see myself more as the silent protector type,” he mused. “Lurking unseen until finally I make myself known at just the right moment.” It sounded perfect.

Phil looked confused. “What character is that?”

“A direwolf,” Dan said smugly, referring to the powerful animals that had protected the Stark children.

Phil raised his eyebrows. “Those names might call a bit of attention. Dan Ghost? Daniel Nymeria?”

“I was thinking of something less literal. Maybe something related to wolves in general. Daniel Wolfe? Is it too obvious?”

Phil shrugged. “That could work. Or maybe something about howling?”

Dan nodded, pleased. “I kind of like that one, but the spelling needs work, because the word ‘howl’ wouldn’t look like a proper last name.”

Phil suggested, “What about ‘Howell’?” and he spelled it to show what he meant.

Dan grinned. “I love it. Daniel Howell. The direwolf who’s been protecting you silently from the shadows all these years.”

“I love it, too.” Phil stopped and gave him a serious look. “I love you, Daniel Howell.” And then Phil reeled him in for another kiss.

“Daniel Howell loves you back. More than you know.” Dan wrapped his arms around Phil and just held him tight, feeling how real he was, how real they both were, together.

—

“What happens now?” Phil asked eventually.

Dan continued walking beside him. “Well, I hoped I could stay at yours, just until I figure things out … if that’s okay with you.” He glanced at Phil’s face, then back down at the pavement, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“No,” Phil said, and Dan’s stomach dropped. He’d always wondered what that expression meant, and now he knew. It was horrid. “I mean, yes, of course,” Phil continued, squeezing Dan’s hand in his. “Of course you can stay with me, but I meant … in the larger scheme of things.” Dan looked at him and waited, not sure what Phil was trying to ask.

Phil frowned, trying to find words, then asked hesitantly, “Are you still an angel? Or are you human?”

Dan shook his head, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I think I could go back to just observing from the outside if I wanted to, but I don’t want to. Right now I’m human, and I plan to stay that way. To stay with you.”

“Will you always look like this, while I get old and wrinkly and gray?”

Dan laughed. Phil honestly seemed worried about this. “I don’t know, Phil, but I doubt it. I expect this human body will age like any other human body does. So I assume I’ll age with you. We’ll get old and wrinkly and gray together.”

“Forever?” Phil asked. “Do you promise?” His eyebrows were drawn together in a little pinch above his nose as if this was the most important question he’d ever asked.

“I promise you,” Dan replied seriously, trying to calm his love’s fears. “Philip Lester, until your very last breath. I’ll always be with you.”

“And after that? After my last breath? What happens then?”

Dan hadn’t really thought about that. The important thing was to be with Phil. The rest would work itself out. Phil was the important thing.

“To be honest,” Dan said, “I don’t know. I’ve never seen past this, past what you humans do here on earth. But whatever it is, whatever happens next, we’ll do it together. Nothing’s going to make me let go of your hand. Not ever.”

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand, then pulled Dan into his arms and kissed him. His lips were cold but fantastic. “Together,” Phil affirmed. “Forever.”

Dan nodded his head and then leaned back slightly, just enough that he could see Phil’s pale eyes in the light from the street lamps. Dan smiled. The snow fell soft and quiet around them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, and it was the first day of Dan’s life.

The very first day.

And it was glorious.

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