#cannot believe for the second time this year i'm thinking about a fic that i somewhat abandoned out of nowhere

[nostalgicatsea]

Help. What do you do when you have two viable directions a fic can go (which inevitably lead to two different endings) and you love both so much so you can't pick one over the other? 😩

[hoshinasblade]

second best |3| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2k trigger warnings: a bit suggestive at the end author's note: i promised a part three so here it is, hope you guys like it! likes, replies, and reblogs are welcome but im begging you not to copy or steal my works. feel free to sign up for my taglist (which i swear im gonna use on the next fic lol), and i appreciate when people send me asks so let me know your thoughts (or send me hoshina pics, that'd be great too). my masterlist is here! also i gotta let you know that i might put the next fic on hold because i am so tempted to start a short nsfw collection instead - just one-shots so it won't be a lot of commitments. who knows cause i might write angst and nsfw at the same time 😉

soshiro's hands were trembling. you noticed because it has not happened in a while - you cannot even recall the last time you've seen the man nervous, much less shaking. you were going to himeji that morning; hoshina had snatched your backpack from you - "when i said i would make it up to ya, i mean in every way i can," he said, sounding gentle and sincere that your only choice was to let him carry your belongings and blush as he also intertwined his fingers with yours while walking.

there is this story you have been hearing for a while - the red string theory, it is called. according to it, people who are destined to be together will always find each other despite everything and anything. when you were a kid, instead of thinking it romantic, you rather thought it is frightening - fate is a difficult enemy to go against: if it is meant to be, then it will be eventually. when you grew up, you held that belief as a prayer - it means that whoever is the one chosen for you may get lost on their way to you, but they will always - always - arrive.

you glanced at hoshina soshiro and you knew you were right to believe.

it was roughly a four-hour journey from tachikawa to himeji by train, and during the entire ride, even when he fell asleep for a short while, your boyfriend did not let go of your hand. you complained about your palms being sweaty as a joke, and he only loosened his hold. you understood - he is making it up to you, but he is also making up for all the wasted time.  

"we're almost there," you told him when he startled from his nap. his bangs were slightly messy, and he bumped his head to your shoulders. "comfy," he hummed. you giggled.

you are still trying to navigate through dating a high-ranking officer of an anti-kaiju defense force unit. relationships aren't strictly forbidden but still frowned upon, which was a little bit of an issue between you and soshiro when you had a proper and long-overdue conversation about what you guys were. confessing is one thing, but when being friends is all you've known your whole life, you know adjustments are supposed to be made here and there.

 which brings you and him back to your hometown.

he didn't exactly disagree with you, but you are aware he had his reservations about the idea of visiting himeji. "oh i'm pretty sure soichiro-kun would be surprised," you said when you were still planning the trip. "yes, we should kiss in front of him and give him a heart attack," soshiro suggested, and you weren't hundred-percent sure he was just joking. maybe you didn't want him to be.

when the streets started to look familiar, soshiro noted the sudden bounce in your pace. you and he have walked in the same alley years ago - he would wait for you after class and would even make up some ridiculous excuse so you could go home together. "i used to pretend to be tired way back just so i could convince you to slow down. i wanted to spend so much time with you," you reminisced.

"i should have known ya were head-over-heels for me," he teased.

"they miss ya, soshiro-kun. ya don't have anything to worry about." the change in topic wiped the smirk off his face. he was suddenly serious, sad even. there was a part of you that regretted saying the words, but he had to hear it - you only wanted to reassure him after all.

"just that i haven't been here for a long while", he said, squeezing your hand. "i don't know if they think this place is still my home."

"ya need to have faith in the people you care about, soshiro-kun. ya need to trust that they care about ya too," you solemnly advised. "i know that doesn't make any sense sometimes, but that's how i do it."

"have i told ya i love you so much?" he responded, to which you smiled.

"only a thousand times," you joked once more.

the hoshina estate is a spacious one - you have to pass through an automated black gate that directs you to the main house, the cobblestone path lined with cherry blossom trees, their delicate petals swirling when the wind blows gently; the grandeur of the home soshiro grew up in is undeniable with its traditional japanese architecture. a man with striking features and an aura of authority was waiting at the entrance, waiting for his son.

“father,” soshiro greeted the man, bowing deeply.

“an embarrassment that your friend will be the one to bring you home when you could have done it a long time ago,” soshiro’s father scolded him. his stare at soshiro was that of disappointment, which quickly disappeared when he looked at you. “ah, my dear, come on in, hurry, come on in,” he turned and said to you, inviting you in. the hoshina patriarch had always been fond of you - soshiro’s parents had wanted a daughter and they found one in you.

soshiro rolled his eyes. “my father’s favorite child is my girlfriend, great,” he muttered.

the maids made you a great dinner, cooking soshiro’s favorite food per his father’s request. conversation was light, and it was apparent that the old hoshina wanted to catch up so badly on how his son was doing, inquiring in consecutive questions about soshiro’s rank in the unit, his experiences so far, and his long-term plans in staying with the force. soshiro’s replies are detailed, but you know he intentionally did not mention all the instances where he almost died fighting.

soshiro’s father regaled you both with stories of soshiro’s childhood antics - “do ya remember, my dear, when soshiro tripped and fell on his face after training with soichiro? we were so worried, but he only fell asleep,” he recited the memory as if it was just yesterday., his kansai accent thick on his words. the tension that had lingered in the air had dissipated as you finished your meal.

“i had the guest room prepared for ya so ya can rest for tonight,” soshiro’s father had said when his son cut him off.

“no, we can sleep together,” soshiro declared, and thinking it might have sounded improper, he spoke again. “beside each other, i mean. in my room. because we’re tired. from travelling all day," he attempted to clarify but failed.

“ah, may i look forward to a grandchild soon from ya two?” color drained from your face as you slowly closed your eyes. you fought off a laugh but failed.

“ya may, but we aren’t doing that here of all places,” soshiro argued just as his father had turned his back on the both of you, amused with himself. at least now you know where soshiro got his sense of humor.

the hot shower felt great against your tensed muscles, and if you weren’t that exhausted, you would have opted for a bath instead. soshiro wanted to speak to his father alone, so when he ushered you inside his childhood bedroom, he’d let you know that he would be gone while you were cleaning yourself up. you were relieved; you haven’t seen your own father since you were a teenager, and it would be a shame to see it happening to the person you care about the most, not if you can do something about it. and this is not to say that you wanted to fix soshiro’s life - you pointed this out to him once - but he’s had a terrible habit of holding back and assuming the worst, so you had decided that if you could help him out, you would push him to the right direction.

“didn’t ya pack clothes?” his eyes were on you immediately after he came in, finding you on the bed with your phone, wearing his shirt.

“i did, but yours look better,” you replied, holding your arms out and showing him how oversized it is on you - the sleeves are passed your elbows, the hem reaching the middle of your thighs.

“they look better on ya, i agree.” he sat on the mattress for a few moments before lying down, his legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “ya all good?”

“i am,” you said to him. “especially because i scanned yer photos when ye're still little while ya were gone,” you informed him then showing him a folder you created in your device - baby hoshina soshiro folder, you named it - full of duplicates you made of the framed pictures of your boyfriend all over the house. there’s one where he didn’t have any hair at all; there’s one where he was close to crying but appeared to be keeping the tears in; there’s one where he was missing a tooth but smiling like there’s no tomorrow. soshiro moved to take your phone away, but you were quicker than him.

“this is payback, for all the times ya weren’t talking to me.” you were alluding to the three long months when you were still an applicant to the defense force and soshiro acted like you were a stranger. he had apologized for it already, but it is nice to make fun of him sometimes so you brought it up. “that hurt my feelings, ya know.” you laid down beside him, invading his personal space, your shoulders touching his.

“i was stupid”, he said. “and it’s not like i could have come up to ya and said, hey i’m sorry for leaving ya in himeji, by the way i’m crazy for ya.”

“and all those times i thought ya had something with commander ashiro, oh god!” you exclaimed for effect. “by the way, the other recruits thought the same.”

“it’s not like that between her and me.” his gaze on you was brief. “it’s not like that with anyone else.”

“it better not be, because i’m leaking all yer baby photos to the first division if ya mess up,” you threatened him despite not needing to.

“i promise, i won’t.” he grabbed your hand from your side and linked it with his, cradling it to his chest before bringing it to his lips. “i’m not that stupid.”

soshiro’s childhood room was what you would expect from a teenage boy: a king-sized bed, a bookshelf of manga, a cabinet showcasing knives and blades. you never had the opportunity to enter his room even when you were kids, you realized. you looked up to the ceiling and you saw green dots that formed shapes - makeshift constellations, you recognized the patterns - little plastic stickers that you glue to surfaces. “are those supposed to be stars?”

soshiro sighed, his arm on top of his face. “yeah, uh - remember when uh - i think that was in junior high, and ye're so into astronomy? i thought it’d be a good idea to know the names of the stars to impress ya, so i started trying to memorize them.”

you shifted to face him, speechless. maybe if you had known this, if you had known the other things you are certain now that soshiro had done and was willing to do for you, you wouldn’t have wasted years questioning your place in his life and deciphering his feelings. a wave of warmth washed over you as you reached out and lifted his arm off his face, meeting his eyes.

soshiro’s lips felt as soft as it looks like, you thought as you kissed him. you pushed yourself into him, and he pulled you tighter until it seemed there was not enough air for you to breathe - until your chests were pressed together it was as if your hearts were beating as one. something sparked inside you; the sensation of being so close to soshiro about to consume you from within. his hand crawled to your hips and remained there. you drew back a bit after that, and when you saw the panicked look on his face, you kissed him again.

“i love you,” you told him in between pants.

the night went on, and by the end of it, hoshina soshiro discovered that his favorite sound is you moaning his name.

[nohaijiachi]

I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

[mingtinys]

how flowers bloom and wither

pairing : lee chan x gn!reader , platonic! boo seungkwan x reader

apocalypse!au , exes to lovers , angst , hurt / minimal comfort

warnings : language , death , apocalyptic themes , depictions of wounds and blood , suicidal ideation , this is not a happy ending or story

word count : 6.3 k

requested ? no

a/n : heavily inspired by this juyeon fic that made my cry in my car (p.s. there is a jeonghan ver as well).

Your voice is the first to call his name in months. It's been so long that the cadence of it sounds foreign to his ears. Almost like another language entirely. A cry from the distance, barely audible in a way he easily dismisses it as a hallucination. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

He knows other survivors exist, he'd seen them in nearly every town he scavenged. Though in no reality had he ever assumed any of them knew his name. The world had not been kind enough to spare anyone who knew and loved Lee Chan. They'd all been swept away in the initial outbreak. And with no one tethering him to his own existence, he was no more than a living ghost amongst the ruins.

But then the voice calls again, this time closer. Behind him. Louder.

"Chan? Lee Chan!"

And even stranger, he knows this voice. Better than he knows the sound of his own name. Could pick it out of a crowd, blindfolded and all.

Though he still can't bring himself to believe it. Not even as he turns and your silhouette comes into view against the setting sun, your elongated shadow reaching out for him. Tattered shoes well beyond their usable years slap against the pavement as you sprint.

"Oh my God, Chan!"

It has to be a mirage. You'll pass straight through him like an apparition and the universe will laugh at him for believing another one of its cruel jokes.

Yet still, his arms open, and seconds later your full weight crashes into him. Like a tide breaking the shore, stirring up memories like loose sand in its wake.

It's the first time in months he's been held. Felt the warm touch of anything living, much less the safety of something familiar. Tears fill his eyes instantly as Chan clings to the one thing from his past he could never seem to bury. To what he can only assume is a pity gift from the universe making up for all the times it fucked him over. To you.

Your chest heaves against his as you ask, "Is it you? Is this real?"

Chan himself doesn't know the answer to that.

"I can't believe I found you," you breathe out once the air surrounding you two settles. You haven't let go yet and Chan doesn't want you to. Worried that when you finally do, he'll wake up back in the crumbling shed he'd used for shelter the night before. With his back against a cold, moldy mattress instead of being held by the warmth of a thousand suns. Alone again.

"Please say something," you nervously laugh. Despite the chill in the air, Chan's cheeks are burning up. He's at a loss, far too overwhelmed to produce anything remotely coherent. Though as you peel away to examine him, concern knitting your brows, one word does come to mind.

Wow.

You're still as radiant as he remembered. A diamond amongst the ruins of the world. It looks, for the most part, the universe has been kind to you. Good, he thinks.

"You're not..." Your expression falls. "You're not sick, are you?"

It's the fear in your eyes that finally prompts Chan to push down the lump in his throat. "No!" He rasps, then clears his throat. "No, I'm not sick. Promise."

"Are you hungry?"

Chan looks back at the reason he'd left his shelter in the first place, the rundown mini-mart about a hundred feet away. The stabbing pain in his stomach brings him back down to reality.

"There's nothing worthwhile in there, we already checked."

We?

Your arm extends to point past the mini-mart. Towards a small abandoned town that pokes out just beyond the darkening horizon. "Our shelter is just about a mile that way. Would you–"

He agrees before you've even finished your sentence.

Chan cannot fathom the hope you hold in your heart in a world like this. Not until he meets Seungkwan. The vibrant boy you've been traveling with thus far.

"You can't go around picking up strays."

"He's not a stray, Kwan, he's an old friend. Besides, you were a stray at one point too." You disappear into another room before the boy can argue any further. Leaving him to glower at his new guest.

"If you start acting strange, I'll kill you." Seungkwan points at Chan, though he's not the least bit threatening. His shiny eyes and round face are far too friendly to ever be perceived as intimidating.

Yet Chan humors the boy anyway. "Virus-free, I promise." He raises his hands in surrender.

"And don't touch anything." He motions around the living room, which is surprisingly homey.

When you mentioned you had a shelter nearby, Chan was expecting something a little less... comfortable. Something like the random sheds or raided stores he'd crouch into for just a few hours of shut-eye, never any longer. Or perhaps even a poorly constructed tent made up of various scrap parts. But when you climbed the stairs to a tiny townhouse, one of the better-looking ones amongst the multiple shells of former homes in the neighborhood, Chan almost couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps this really was all just a dream.

The outside, for the most part, looked pretty decent. There had been some obvious repairs done; trash cleaned from the yard, wooden boards haphazardly nailed over broken windows, a tattered blue tarp covering a large section of the roof, and Chan could just barely make out remnants of graffiti that couldn't be scrubbed away. But the blue paint was hardly peeling and the stone steps had only a few cracks.

When it came to the inside, one word came to mind. Charming. None of the furniture matches, meaning either the previous owner hadn't cared for aesthetics or you and Seungkwan had at some point scavenged the surrounding houses in search of the least fucked up looking decor. Even then, it was really just the bare essentials. A surprisingly comfortable couch, two rocking chairs that look as though the wood had been chewed by squirrels, a metal center table, and a couple bookshelves filled with various novels, picture frames of strangers, and knickknacks.

Down the short hallway to the left are two closed doors. Of which he assumes is a single bedroom and bath respectively. Behind him, where you had disappeared to, is a door he'd quickly caught a glimpse of the kitchen through.

Most notably, however, against the back wall of the living room is a stone fireplace. Ablaze with such life it fully illuminates the space, providing a much-needed warmth as the brisk night rolls in. Chan watches it dance over the mound of logs, completely entranced until that same lovely voice from before calls his name once more.

"All we really have left from our last supply run is tuna, I hope that's okay." In your hands is a bowl with a small portion of rice and half a can of tuna, along with a glass of water. It's no five-star meal, but Chan's mouth still waters at the sight. And better yet, it's warm. He can't remember the last time he had a meal that wasn't a can of cold mystery mush or a granola bar.

He half expects Seungkwan to gripe about him taking something as precious in this world as food. But the boy snorts and a teasing smile creeps its way onto his lips. "Poor kid looks like he'll start drooling any second, I think tuna is more than okay."

He's right, tuna and rice is more than okay. In fact, it's the best damn thing he's ever had in his life. Even as he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, it only gets better. It isn't until every morsel of food has vanished from the bowl that Chan finally acknowledges his drink. Gulping the clear, luke-warm, liquid down in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you," he breaths out.

"So what are your plans? Are you leaving in the morning?" Seungkwan promptly asks.

Oh.

A chasm opens in Chan's stomach. Right, he thinks, How could he be so naive? Sure, the two of you knew each other. But it's been what, three years? Three years of the two of you living your own lives, growing, becoming new people. Almost a full one of those years spent fighting to survive. You didn't even owe him a meal to begin with, much less a place to stay. And, not to mention, Seungkwan doesn't know him from a hole in the wall.

He isn't sure why he assumed you'd stick by his side. But he'd sure hoped you would.

You have an equally solemn look on your face. "Right, you probably have people you need to get back to. They'll be worried if you stay too long."

"No, actually, it's just me."

Please. Chan silently pleads. Please don't leave me alone again.

You lock eyes with Seungkwan. A silent conversation between the two of you has Chan's heart pounding against his ribs.

"Can I talk to you?" Seungkwan motions you to follow him down the hall and into the solo bedroom.

Minutes feel like hours; and no matter how hard he tries, Chan can't decipher anything from the muffled whispers. It's just a flurry of back and forth until it stops with Seungkwan letting out a long sigh.

When Chan sees your nervous, fidgeting, figure appear with Seungkwan in tow, he starts mentally preparing for a no.

"There's only one bedroom," Seungkwan states, arms crossed. "So we'll have to rearrange the sleeping arrangements—"

"I'll sleep anywhere," Chan immediately bargains. "I can take the couch—"

"Absolutely not." The older boy jabs a finger at him, his stare menacing. "That couch is the nicest thing we have, if anything it's mine."

That is perfectly fine with Chan. In fact, he'd take the termite-chewed wooden floor if that's what it would take. "Does this mean..?"

"Yes," the boy exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, but the action doesn't feel malicious. More like a brother teasing his younger siblings. "You're lucky, you had a very reliable source vouch for you."

It feels like Chan can breathe for the first time since this whole shit-storm began. The weight that lifts from his chest makes him feel as though he's floating. And as your soft gaze catches him, he sees it. That indomitable glimmer of hope humanity has to offer. A light at the end of a dark tunnel. Security wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket.

A second chance to be alive.

Seungkwan, as Chan quickly learns, had dreams of being a singer back before. There's rarely been a quiet moment in the week since you found Chan. If he's doing repairs, he's humming. If he's taking inventory, he's softly mumbling along to some tune. If he's sat by the fire at night, his voice carries beyond the walls and into the night.

It's strange. Chan hadn't realized just how quiet being alone was until now. But you enjoy Seungkwan's voice, and it eases you to sleep on Chan's shoulder. So he enjoys it as well.

"Are they asleep?" He asks, letting his song teeter off, voice just barely audible above the crackling logs.

Chan looks down at the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles fondly, dropping his shoulder a tad lower to not strain your neck. By now, he's finally gotten over the disbelief of his luck in finding you— well, more so you finding him. Deciding to no longer question the probability of it all and simply cherish the feeling you bring him.

"Yeah, I think so."

Similarly, Chan has also learned that as much of a tough guy act as Seungkwan puts on, he's got an incredibly soft heart. It's pertinent in his gaze and the discreet ways he dotes on anyone around him. Bickering with Chan to wear something warmer even though Spring is around the corner or fussing at you to take an extra portion of rations.

In an alternate life, Chan likes to think he and the boy could've been life-long friends.

"How long were you out there alone?" He muses, a curious look on his face.

"Since the first outbreak," Chan answers casually. Though, Seungkwan's eyes go wide in horror.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, why? How long were you?"

"Three weeks, maybe." He shrugs. "Give or take a few days. We ran into each other pretty early on and we've stuck together ever since. Found this place about four months ago and tried to make it feel somewhat normal."

"Oh, that's nice." Chan forgets that for some, life kept moving. Even as society crumbled, humanity persisted. Some in vain, some succeeding, and others, like himself, not at all.

"Can I ask something else?" Seungkwan pulls him from his thoughts. There's a prying curiosity that's scribbled all over his face. Grinning like a schoolgirl with fresh gossip to tell her friends. Chan decides to entertain his curious mind, nodding.

"How do you two know each other?" He gestures at the two of you curled up on the couch. "Like, what's the story there?"

Chan's heart drops straight into his ass and like a reflex, he glances down to ensure you're really asleep. The two of you haven't exactly gotten the chance to talk about everything quite yet. So as of now, he isn't sure where you stand. He decides the more vague the better.

"We met in our third year of university. Their roommate was friends with my roommate."

Seungkwan squints his eyes, visibly displeased with that answer. "And?"

"And..." Chan toys with the material of his pants. "We dated. Two years. Just... didn't work out in the end."

Chan seriously wishes Seungkwan's facial expressions weren't so telling. That way he'd be able to at least pretend he was getting out of this conversation any time soon. But still, the boy persists, nagging him about the who's, what's, when's, where's, and why's until Chan caves. Explaining everything from the stolen glances that started it all, to the teary-eyed bittersweet end.

He vividly remembers the way regret pooled in his chest the moment your front door shut. Making his chest feel cold and empty, a feeling that stuck around nearly every day after. Reminding him of what he let go of for the past three years. The conversation plays on in a loop in his head, and since then, he's thought up about a thousand ways he would've done differently.

"Are you saying you want to break up?" Your voice was so small it ripped Chan's heart in two. 

"No! I just— I mean, but... shouldn't we?"

"Our lives started growing in different directions faster than we could keep up." He explains to Seungkwan, who's been uncharacteristically quiet. Not once stopping to interject his opinion or pop in another question. "They were offered a really good internship a few cities away. I was given the opportunity to be mentored by a renowned choreographer. We'd both be so busy. It didn't seem fair to hold each other back from our dreams. There wasn't much of a choice."

But that's not true. Chan ripped the bandaid off long before it could prove to stand the test of time because he was scared. He assumed the love you felt for him would slowly wither and die with the distance. Drawn out in a slow and painful process he couldn't bear the burden of. So he ran, like a coward, and left you to deal with the fallout by yourself.

It's funny, how the universe deals out karma.

"Probably the dumbest decision I've ever made."

Seungkwan hums, relaxing back into his wooden rocking chair, seemingly deep in thought. A silence settles over the room, only the sound of dying embers softly crackling fills the air.

You stir next to him, nose cutely scrunched up as you search for a more comfortable position. Chan hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you to fully lean against him, being extra cautious not to accidentally jostle you awake. You finally settle, and he can't help but notice your body still fits against his perfectly. Just like to used to.

And when Chan lifts his head back to meet Seungkwan's eyes, he catches the tail end of a fond smile. He rises from the chair, making his way around behind the sofa.

"You made it back, that's all that matters." He whispers, hand on Chan's shoulder. "You don't get a lot of second chances in life— much less in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe it's time you stop just trying to survive and start letting yourself live. Whatever that looks like for you."

Spring rounds the corner like an old friend. Marking officially one year since the world went to shit and bringing with it much-needed rain in the form of rolling storms. One brews on the horizon, dark clouds gradually closing in on the afternoon sun. The cool breeze feels refreshing against Chan's damp skin. A pleasant contrast to the heavy bag slung over his shoulder, filled with scavenged treasures from the latest scout.

"You know, I offered to carry it halfway," you tease, significantly less out of breath than Chan on your trek back home. The exterior of the townhouse hadn't fared well with the harsh storms, yet it's a welcomed sight nonetheless.

"Yeah, but that would require him relinquishing about this much pride," Seungkwan laughs while pinching his fingers together, squinting through the narrow gap between them.

"It's not even that heavy," Chan scoffs, and if you clock his lie, you don't make it known.

"Whatever you say, golden boy," Seungkwan snickers, the corner of his lip quirked up in a smirk before veering off to the small plot just to the left of the entrance steps.

Seungkwan, arguably the most excited for Spring to arrive, had taken up gardening. Plowing up the soil with a water-logged wooden shovel and planting various packs of seeds he'd once found on a scout. They were mostly just flowers, anything useful like fruits and veggies having already been snatched up by other scavengers. However, he'd been lucky enough to find one packet of tomato seeds, one of green onion seeds, and another of squash seeds. The boy has a surprisingly green thumb, having created a flourishing garden in just a month.

"It's looking beautiful, Seungkwan. Another few weeks and we may actually have something to eat that isn't out of a can." You praise, admiring the colorful arrangement as well.

Sure, the fruits and veggies are nice, but Chan much prefers the cluster of voluminous purple hyacinths. Their vibrant color reminds him of the rich sunsets he'd use as a child to gauge when to return home for dinner.

He swiftly plucks a single bloom from the arrangement and places it behind your ear. You smile at the gesture, and it somehow shines brighter than the flower itself. A sight he believes is capable of parting the gray clouds stretching across the sky.

"Stop killing my babies, Lee Chan." Seungkwan chastises, annoyance evident in his tone.

"Sorry," he sheepishly grins, remembering Seungkwan's no-touching rule he had applied to the garden.

In the distance, there's a low rumbling that draws your attention to the sky. "We should go in before it starts pouring." You take Chan's hand, tugging him inside while his heart beats out of his chest. You call out for Seungkwan as well, urging him that his babies will be fine in the rapidly approaching storm.

Rain slowly begins to patter against the rafters the second the front door squeaks shut. Crescendoing to a downpour within a matter of minutes. Sounds like the three of you are in for a long one tonight.

It was hard to notice at first. The occasional slip-ups here and there. Easy enough to blame the rising Summer heat on Seungkwan's mood swings. Even if the boy had been more readily agitated lately, his bubbly moments stuck around in an abundance that excused the outbursts.

Though Chan can't quite get over that look on your face the first time Seungkwan snapped at you. Something about his bush of hydrangeas being disturbed despite you insisting you hadn't laid so much as a finger on his garden. But the moment tears slipped from your irises, Seungkwan crumbled. His eyes blown wide in horror as the realization hit. He uttered endless apologies, begging for forgiveness until you assured him everything was okay.

And to his credit, he hadn't had an outburst that big since. But still, you made sure to be extra cautious around his garden from then on out.

The red patches painting his arms are harder to ignore, though. Especially with the incessant noise of nails obsessively itching at dry skin.

"Are you okay?" Chan asks, finally voicing his concerns after watching the boy go at his skin with an inhuman determination for the past half hour. The sight reminding him of a rabid dog infested with fleas. With little care for its own health, left only with the insatiable urge to make the itching stop.

Seungkwan's head snaps up with feral eyes, though they dissolve into cheery crescents quick enough to fool Chan into believing he was just imagining things. Perhaps he'd been a little too on guard around his friend. The sweltering heat surely didn't help his nerves.

"Yeah," he chuckles. "I must've gotten into some poison ivy, it's been driving me mad."

It only got worse.

The scratching.

It keeps Chan awake in the late night hours. That dry sound echoing in his head over and over and over and over. And during the day, despite it being the peak of Summer, Seungkwan wears long sleeves. They do well in muffling the sound and hiding whatever visuals resulted from the night before. Yet, he forgets to scrub the dried blood from under his nails.

There's an unease that settles in Chan's chest and makes a nest there. A feeling that comes in waves, yet never fully leaves him. It consumes his thoughts and taints the air in his lungs until he feels like he may choke on it. Unable to breathe a single word about his worries without accidentally manifesting them into fruition. Because perhaps nothing is awry. Perhaps Chan is the one slowly losing his mind.

After all, you've yet to mention anything. Content with humoring Seungkwan's better moments in spite of his worst.

Perhaps, Chan is still stuck in his mirage.

It happened again.

Seungkwan snapped and this time Chan had to intervene.

Over his garden again.

The once glorious flowers were sad and wilting, through no fault of anyone's, but the elements. The heat was harsh on them and there hadn't been enough rain in a while to revive them. Not to mention, Seungkwan simply hadn't been tending to them as much as he thought he had. He spent most of his days now obsessing over illusions instead.

Swore he saw spiders in the rations. Heard scratching in the walls. Had caught shadows of looters pacing outside at night.

You called it dehydration.

But he'd somehow gotten it into his head you'd been poisoning the soil when he wasn't looking. He swung the front door open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges, yelling obscenities about how you betrayed him. How rotten and horrid you were for killing the one thing that'd given him any semblance of joy. Chan swears he's never seen someone so unhinged as Seungkwan in that moment.

All it took was three large steps in your direction for Chan to brace himself in front of you. However, all it really took to freeze Seungkwan in his steps was his name. Loud and firm. Lighting a clarity in his eyes that's been missing for a few days now. He ushers the boy outside with haste. Too afraid to look back at your crumbling face.

Seungkwan collapses down on the stone steps. He pulls his knees to his chest and digs his palms into his eyes, hard. "I fucked up, didn't I?" He whimpers.

Chan doesn't know what to say. He did. But confirming it when he's in such a state seems cruel. And he doesn't care to twist the knife any further. He just takes a seat next to what's left of his friend and lays a comforting hand on his back.

"I'm scared." Seungkwan's head tips back to the sky. Chan had always been under the assumption that Seungkwan was oblivious to his deteriorating state. But the steady stream of tears down the boy's cheeks says otherwise.

"I can feel my mind slowly becoming not my own."

"Maybe it's not—"

"I already tried telling myself that." Chan's heart sinks as the boy hikes up his sleeves. Revealing the angry red tracks and rust-colored scabs covering a majority of his forearms. Some wounds still look fresh, and painfully deep.

"That's the first symptom, right? Feeling like there's ants under your skin. Being easily irritated. Foggy memories, whole days missing..." He looks ahead at the setting sun. "I'm already seeing things. Was it one or two months the broadcast said the infected have once those start?"

Chan tries to remember back to when his radio crackled to life for the first time. He's pretty sure it's one.

"I can't remember."

Seungkwan pushes a bitter laugh through his nostrils. "Me either."

Chan glances at the sad plot of greenery beside him. He frowns at the way the tulips droop and their petals hang limp. At least those who are still trying to hold on. Desperate to escape the same fate as their counterparts that have already begun decaying into the soil.

He looks back to Seungkwan and wonders what it's like. To have the tulips weep for you. For them to bow their heads and shed their petals like tears. He also wonders if you'll grieve for Seungkwan as gracefully as they do.

"Promise me one thing?" Seungkwan whispers. His eyes already look like they're glazing over again.

"Anything."

He speaks your name with longing. "Take care of them, yeah? I know it seems like they have their shit together, but that's not how it always was."

"What do you mean?" Chan asks, skin crawling. But Seungkwan continues to stare ahead, eyes focused on who knows what in the distance. He blinks slowly, "It's not my story to tell. Just... promise."

"I promise. Don't worry, it's not something you even have to ask."

"The garden, too." His lips lift at the corners. Chan thinks it's a smile, but it's too uncanny to recognize. "If you're taking requests."

He agrees, partly to provide Seungkwan with what little peace of mind he can offer him, but also because he already has been. Chan tries on occasion to care for the sad little plants. Wetting the soil with what little water he can spare.

Part of him naively hoped that maybe somehow, some way, if the garden could be nursed back to its former glory, so could Seungkwan. But deep down, Chan has learned to tell the difference between a dream and reality by now.

And the reality is, Seungkwan reeks of borrowed time.

The world stole your smile when it stole Seungkwan. It ripped his soul from your grasp as Chan held you in his. Kicking and screaming.

Endless tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought to hold you back. Your pleas grew more desperate and wrangled. Mixing with the garbled, wretched, shrieks of your friend. Fingers clawing at his eyes. The virus embedded so deep in his brain he was no longer Seungkwan.

Just another host.

Your voice was the last to call Seungkwan's name that day. Raspy and hollow as you begged for his life. Begged the universe to not take the last ray of sunshine the world had to offer. Begged Seungkwan to fight just one more day. Begged Chan to let you save him despite all hope having set when the sun did. The scratches you'd left on his forearms remained a week after. But the hole Seungkwan's presence left has yet to fade.

Neither of you spoke of the boy in that time. He still doesn't know if that's for better or worse. Chan's terrified you'll shatter if he so much as whispers the boy's name. But to act like he never existed in the wake of it... well, that just doesn't feel right either.

But Chan knows there's no proper way to grieve. He figured that out at the beginning. He'd had damn near a year to mourn everyone he ever loved, you've only had a week. He knows with time, acceptance will come. But it kills him not knowing how to help.

So instead, Chan does the hard stuff.

He buries Seungkwan. Next to his garden, so that next Spring he can watch it grow. He stacks rocks as a makeshift headstone and plucks dried, stiff asphodel from the garden to make it look neat. He rearranges the bookshelf into a tiny shrine of Seungkwan's things. His favorite books he'd read over and over. A silver ring, with some date Chan doesn't know the meaning of carved into it. A liquor bottle that he used as a makeshift vase with the last flowers he picked still in it. Long dead, but the petals somehow still holding on. Replaces one of the bronze picture frames of strangers with a photo he found tucked away in Seungkwan's bag. One of him and two other people he assumes are his parents.

And when he's done, he lights a candle, the flame drawing you out like a moth.

"What is this?" you croak. It's the first you've spoken to Chan since it happened.

"Something to honor him," Chan whispers, keeping his gaze locked on the flickering light. He's too scared to see your reaction. Afraid you'll break down again. Afraid you'll hate it and scream that he has no right to mourn someone you loved for longer. Afraid that if he sees your tears flowing, he won't be able to stop his own.

Because he also knows part of you still resents him for that night. For grabbing your waist and stopping your momentum from hurtling towards Seungkwan. Robbing you of the chance to hold and comfort your friend one last time. Your screams echo in his head as a reminder whenever your gaze refuses to meet his or you shrug away from his touch.

But then your head falls to his shoulder like an olive branch stretching across a battlefield. Your sniffles break through the silence. Chan hesitantly pulls you closer, and when you don't flinch away, he does even more so until your full weight is against him.

When Seungkwan was here, there was rarely a moment of silence. But now, the house, and you, are quiet. And all Chan can hear are the sounds of heartbreak. Never before had he thought it could be so incredibly loud.

The cold air sneaks in sometime around mid-November. Bringing with it longer nights and temperatures low enough to warrant nightly fires again.

You haven't talked much since the night you cried your heart out on Chan's shoulder. Operating more like a zombie replicating past routines from life before. Wake up. Scavenge. Eat. Sleep. So when you offer up the first ounce of interest in something other than your daily routine, Chan nearly jumps out of his skin.

"I miss the ocean," you mumble, solemn eyes looking down at the crackling fire. The tip of your nose red from the chill.

"We can go if you want... If it would make you happy." He says though he'd settle for content. To bring you back, he'd do anything.

You nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."

And Chan makes it happen.

Maps out the closest beach. Rigs up two rusty old bikes he found in a shed. Packs enough provisions just in case. All for the sake of maybe returning with a sliver of the person you used to be.

The two of you easily find the rocky formation looking over the dark sea, waves raging below. It's here, that Chan truly realizes just how much of a shell you've become of your former self. The way you inch closer and closer to the sharp edge is lifeless. Like a magnet being pulled at with no will of your own. It lodges a dagger of dread through the center of his chest.

"Don't go so close, you could slip." Chan doesn't know if you can't hear him over the crashing waves below or if you simply choose not to. But your feet keep moving and Chan's feel cemented to the ground.

"That's close enough!" He calls.

Again, nothing.

Your toes hang over the edge now, hands in your jacket pockets. Raging waves slam against the cliff, reaching up for you. You close your eyes and point your nose to the sky.

Wind rushes around Chan. His shoes slip on the slick rocks below as instinct takes charge of his momentum while his brain remains frozen in panic. His lungs refuse to work until his arm can hook around your torso. Yanking you back with such a force it throws the both of you off balance. It isn't until his back meets solid rock that he finally gasps in a sputtering breath. The dull throbbing is instant, but the full weight of you atop his chest is comforting.

Chan desperately scrambles to collect you in his arms. Pulling your back against his chest so that he can curl around you like a protective barrier from the world.

"I wasn't going to jump." You whisper. But he feels no comfort from your empty words.

"Please don't make me lose you twice." He pleads like a child, rocking you in his grasp. The salty spray from the ocean mixes with his tears until he can't tell what is what. Right now, the only thing he's certain of is the one in his grasp. The feeling of you in his arms, safe, and he doesn't want to ever lose that. Call it selfish if you must. Lee Chan will wear that title proudly.

There's a rush of déjà vu as you crumble, muttering Seungkwan's name between wretched sobs, nails deep in his forearms. Sobbing about how you miss him, how unfair it is, everything you've been holding in since. Chan holds you tighter. Scared you'll slip away like the tide. Like Seungkwan did. Plunged into cold, thrashing darkness.

He prays to whatever merciful forces have forsaken him to please not do the same to you.

It's a silent trip back to the townhouse and you all but collapse from exhaustion the second you're through the door. Dragging yourself over to the couch and immediately curling into a ball. Chan takes the liberty of lighting the fire before sitting down beside you. He opens his arms, and to his surprise, you accept, letting your head fall into his lap. His arm securely drapes over your torso, though you're quick to cradle his hand. Hugging it to your chest so that his palm can feel the rhythmic thumping of your heart.

Chan lets out a long-held sigh, counting each beat like a lullaby. Then focuses on the rise and fall of your chest. Letting the steady swells ease the adrenaline from his system.

For a second, life is okay. Happy, even. Like how it was back before the world ended. Before he broke your heart. When he didn't care about anything except you and passing chemistry.

"I'm scared to lose you." When you say it, it feels like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. "I always thought maybe, because we'd made it this far, that meant we were somehow immune. That the worst was over for us."

You pause to take a deep breath. But Chan doesn't push, simply thankful you've finally decided to let him shoulder the weight you carry.

"But if Seungkwan can die, that means you can too. Then who do I have?"

"I'd never leave–"

"You can't promise that," you drop to a whisper. Compensating for the waver in your voice. And you're right, he can't. Not in a world as cruel as this.

But he wants to.

"I don't believe in this world anymore. Not after what it did to him."

"Can you believe in me?"

Your answer doesn't come in the verbal form. Nor does it come quickly, which makes Chan think he's officially lost you. But then your fingers thread with his, squeezing in a way that he can only describe as feeling like pure hope.

Chan can't remember when the turning point was. All he knows is that today, months after the ocean, life feels peaceful once more. The Spring breeze is gentle against his skin as he lays in the soft grass with your head on his stomach. Surrounded by the aroma of the newly bloomed tulips that far outshine the rest of the garden.

He doesn't have as nearly green of a thumb as Seungkwan did, but he's proud. The garden is lush, green, and full of life. A little chaotic, but beautiful nonetheless.

Chan had even managed to revive the hydrangeas Seungkwan was so fond of.

You point to clouds with upturned lips, remarking on their resemblance to various animals. It's not the first time he's been lucky enough to catch you smiling in the subsequent months. But he knows to cherish each one more than he once did.

There's still a chill to the spring air and Chan tugs at his sleeves. Ignoring the incessant urge to animalistically claw at his arm. At the itch so deep under his skin, it feels like it's in the bone.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 30th

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1. Ok this might be a shot in the dark. But do you know of a fic where basically it’s an arranged marriage (kind of) between lan zhan and trans (ftm) wei ying. It believe it is based on a reddit thread of a gay guy who got into an arranged marriage with a woman, but they actually are a trans man. Anyways…the reddit posts are deleted by now. But I remember reading this fic a couple years back and I can’t find it anywhere. Either it’s been deleted or hopefully someone else is able to find it 😭

FOUND? Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach by Khashana (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Arranged Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, fake married, Sort Of, Rule 63, Trans Woman WWX, Partial Cisswap, implied background/societal homo/transphobia, But nothing overt, background LXC/Qin Su also in a marriage of convenience way, gender euphoria, the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with your spouse, based on that one reddit post, Light Angst, Light Pining, this fic is soft mostly) I think #1 might be this one, although wwx is a trans woman in it (it's a wlw wangxian AU) rather than a trans man

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2. Hi!! I cant remember if I already sent this or just thought really hard about it 😪 Im looking for a modern AU fic where WWX is dx'd ADHD and he and LWJ slowly start a relationship. The scene I remember most clearly is there being fireworks and it send LWJ into a meltdown. Ether just before or after the meltdown he found out LXC and LQR have been trying to get him diagnosed with Autism.

Xiao Xingchen is an adult psych who specalizes in neurodivergence iirc, and WWX helps make LWJ feel more okay w possibly being neurodiverse by talking about his experience w ADHD and Xiao Xingchen.

🙇‍♀️ thank you! @la-voce-to-me

FOUND! together, we're just enough by lulu_kitty (E, 134k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bartender LWJ, single dad wwx, Kid fic (sort of), Excessive Fluff, Yearning, neurodivergent wangxian, canonical parental issues, lwj in jewelry, accidental sugar gege wwx, Bottom LWJ, Service Top WWX, Bisexual WWX, Rich WWX, a-yuan is a wei but still also a wen, wwx is a-yuan's biological baba, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Slow-ish burn, Light Dom/sub, Brief LWJ/Others, Past WWX/Other(s)) sounds a lot like the happenings in chapter 8!

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3. hey admins! i'm looking for a fic where wwx is from the modern world back and somehow goes back in time to the cloud recesses and spends some time there, and towards the end of the fic lwj goes back to the modern with wwx. (i also remember that wwx and lwj goes back and forth often visiting each others home) thanks! <3

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

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4. This for fic finder. Its an old fic. Modern au focused on junior quartet. I dont know if the fic is several fic or in one fic. Junior quartet is in a club where they make a magazine (sorry i forgot the word both in my language and in english). They have an access to a school forum. LJY found an old forum talking about wangxian. Like the people in that forum failed to make wangxian happen in the past. If i remember correctly, they tried to matchmake wangxian. They ask LWJ to accompany them to yunmeng. In yunmeng, there are big festival happened there and they meet the jiang family in second floor of the restaurant to watch the festival from there. I think the jiangs is a respectable family that many people know them. So long story short, they manage to matchmake wangxian. I dont know if LJY release the news to that old forum or someone did. Just that LJY have an inkling the account that helped them is NHS. I dont know if this is important but LJY username has connection to chicken. I think thats all. Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Operation Old Men by Chiharu (Not Rated, 37k, WangXIan, JL & LSZ & LJY, JYL/JZX, Modern, Boarding School, Single Parents, Everyone Is Alive, Matchmaking, Family Dynamics, Hospitals, Meet the Family, Family Vacation, Weddings, School Reunion, Happy Ending)

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5. this for ficfinder! i need help looking for a time travel fic wherein established wangxian travel back to their teen years. iirc wwx and lwj writes to each other in secret and wwx invents talismans to give to the jiang sect so that he can repay his debts and leave the clan when he is at a certain age. lwj also leaves (??). i think they become rogue cultivators tgt. im pretty sure i have this downloaded but i cant find it from hundreds of fics bc i cant rmbr the name 😭

FOUND! Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

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6. Hello!! So i think the fic got deleted but all i can remember was wangxian had mythical creature eggs? Like they had a dragon,tiger,snake&turqoise and phoenix and they can talk telepathically at first then they can shift to humans later on!Thank you again so much!!!!

FOUND? For #6 with telepathic creatures, I haven't read the fic, but could it be that magical marriage ribbons series?

FOUND? #6 is My Immortal. I can't do the link on I'm my phone. It has the mythical beasts.

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7. Hii, I'm looking for a fic in which lan zhan goes to a party with lan xichen and then keeps going to the same house where the party is at many times and hangs out with wei ying on the basement sofa

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8. hii!! i recently read a fanfic where wei wuxian can't sleep because he gets horrible nightmares, there's one particular scene where the juniors are practically dragging him into cloud recesses, and he's falling asleep whilst walking and they meet with Lan wangji. if you could help me find it, that would be super great !! @spaaarkie

FOUND? hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

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9. I thought I had subscribed to this fic but I guess not... Looking for a WIP in which WWX is ambushed in Yiling, but he has A-Yuan with him so he's extra desperate in trying to fight the attackers off. There might be fire involved? Either the title, the description or the tags have some reference to "hysterical strength" (maybe! not 100% sure about that one!). Thank you. 🖤❤️ @linderel

FOUND! Hysterical Strength by covalentbonds (Not rated, 3k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Inspired by a Bollywood movie scene, Everyone Lives/Nobody dies, Parent WWX)

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10. hi!! i'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago(?) on ao3, where during the cloud recesses study arc (i think?) lqr and the other teachers notice that wwx's basic education is lacking and wwx says it's because yzy doesn't let him join jc's lessons because wwx is supposed to be a right hand man and his education is therefore less important, so the lan elders and scholars all team up to give him remedial lessons; i think there's also a part where they build a case against the jiang sect because the sect scholars failed their responsibility to teach their disciples equally. the fic holding shreds by barisan reminds me of it a little bit, but instead of yzy's physical abuse of wwx the one i'm looking for is all about the emotional abuse and education inequality

FOUND?🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting) in this one, Xichen is speculating that WWXs education was stunted, especially in sect etiquette, deliberately by mme yu.

FOUND?🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad) in this one the lan sect does the scholar case thing where they accuse jiang sect of failing their duties by neglecting to educate wei ying.

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11. hi, i'm looking for a fic which i found on twitter but im sure links to AO3 — basically everyone in the universe is some sort of animal (wwx is a fox, lwj is a dragon?) and they're classified by their mating cycles (whether they mate for life or seasonally). wwx and lwj gets engaged but lwj calls it off as wwx is a fox and therefore mates seasonally vs his for-life situation. wwx gets sad about it and then they find out wwx actually can mate for life! i used to find it easily before but for some reason no matter what i search, it just won't come up and i don't think i was logged into ao3 at the time i read it either. hope someone remembers it as well, thanks!

FOUND? what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings, Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved “gaslighting”, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX)

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12. Hi I’m trying to find a fic where jiang Cheng is being forced to get married/find an heir. I remember that a member of YunmengJiang approached him with a list of members of the sect that would leave if he didn’t get an heir. I think it was mentioned that people were okay with him not having getting married since they assumed Jin Ling would inherit and Jin Guangyao would have another child but once his crimes were revealed they started to pressure him.

I know it wasn’t a Jiang cheng/lan Xichen or jiang cheng/nie Huaisang

FOUND? Karma by such_stuff_as_dreams_are_made_on (Not Rated, 2k, JC & OCs, Post-Canon, Arranged Marriage, Light Angst, Minor WangXian, Not JC Friendly)

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13. I’m trying to find this fic where Wei Ying is looking for spouse for some reason and he starts asking everyone in Cloud Recesses but Lan Zhan even ask LXC to be his partner right in front of LWJ

If you have an idea about what I’m talking about thank you!!

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14. so theres this fic in which jiang cheng and wei wuxian sit in a boat in jiang cheng's memories and wei wuxian sings a song that he altered slightly. im pretty sure it was a reconcilliation fic but im not sure but jc was a bit emotional. i can't find it, please help!

related to the previous ask, what i described is also only a scene from that fic and probably not what the entire fic is about. i only remember that one scene. @theartisticdoofus

FOUND? sing to the clouds in summerby stiltonbasket (G, 28k, JC & WWX, JC & JL, wangxian, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, 13k words of JC figuring out that LSZ is his nephew, ft. LXC and NHS the overprotective uncles, and LWJ giving JC death glares, Family Secrets, Reconciliation, Sad JC, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Podfic Available) the song is in chapter 4

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15. Dear FicFinder Team, here I am again with only vibes and one scene. It was a WIP CQL post-canon fic, set during WWX's wanderings. At some point he exorcises a ghost in a tower (not one of the watchtower fics tho) and the last scene was WWX on his way back, kneeling in the grass to make offerings to his shijie and finally letting himself cry about her death. Maybe there were food descriptions too, I read this very early on and cannot find it in my history. It was exquisitely written too. @kinoumenthe

FOUND! the earth remembered me by remux (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, POV WWX, Post-Canon, Emotional Edging, Letters, emotional support strangers, Original Character(s), lwj's quiet devotion)

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16. Do you know the name for a fic where WWX is invisible (for some reason) and is in LWJ room (for some reason) and WWX watches LWJ hump a pillow but then LWJ notices that someone is in the room with him yada yada they have sex i forget when it gets revealed that it’s WWX

NOT FOUND! Mak Siccar by therealandraste (E, 20k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Misunderstandings, Pining, Happy Ending, Paperman smut - only god can judge me, Original Character Death(s)) the details don't exactly fit but

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, WangXian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

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17. hello I'm looking for this twitter threadfic written by cerbykerby where wwx is a mermaid captured and brought in for studying by scientist lwj and others, and they eventually become mates. i've tried looking through their account for it but the fic is old and the search is way too far down, and i can't find the full fic. pls help out thanks!

FOUND? this is the unrolled threadfic by cerbykerby, I think

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18. Hi! First time requesting something like this, but I really need help finding this one fanfic. It’s a incomplete wangxian fanfic and the summary of what I remember was that when WWX wakes up in MXY’s body after thirteen years, people are actually praising YL WWX because somehow (I cant remember how) the truth behind his actions and why he did what he did in the first place. JC faces some hate from the cultivation world, JL doesn’t hate WWX, and LWJ is extremely protective of WWX. Hope all this information helps!!! @nikki-g-m

Could #18 be that fic where a painter/theater guy did an interview with drunk wwx during the burial mounds arc and then it got published after his death so that when he resurrects its's all settled already (?). I dont remember the name either but maybe someone else will

FOUND? 💖 The Ballad of Hanguang-Jun and The Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 40k, WangXian, ChengQing, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Arc, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Humor, musical theater?, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, Crack treated seriously) The commenter on 18 was thinking of The ballad of Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Patriarch, though idk if this is the fic OP wants

FOUND? i think its deleted? Have You Heard Of The Yiling Patriach by R_PONTS

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19. literally just reading a random wangxian fic when I I remembered this one fic I read a while ago. I can’t really remember a lot of details but from what I remember Wei ying is the cloud recess for whatever reason and he get the silencing spell out on him and he panicked and starts scratching and clawing at his throat and everybody’s watching horrified like please y’all help me remember 😭 @saintzx

FOUND?🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) The clawing is because he's desperate to defend JC against LQR's (rightful) admonishing, after JYL told him he should've tried harder after being silenced on a previous occasion defending JC

~*~

20. Hello

Love your blog!

A) I'm looking for a fic where wwx was raised by WRH, but it is introduced with him being the one to raze Cloud Recess and starting ti flirt with a prisoner LWJ who's very much " bro, wtf" in his inner monologue.

He's bff w Xye Yang and at one point thinks of doing lwj favors

B) Modern au where wwx and lwj had been married, adopted LSZ and then divorced due to someone either framing wwx or LWJs fam pressuring him to it. Wwx still has visitation rights and all, and at one point lwj buys them a house as an apology, but wwx is less than cash money above it, bcs lwj didn't truly fix the mistrust or whatever the reason for their breakup was @midnightlighthowlite

20B)

FOUND? 🔒 Life as a House by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 55k, WangXian, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Post-Divorce, Father-Son Relationship, Reconciliation, Therapy)

~*~

21. Hello there, I’m not sure if this is a fic finder or an in the mood for, because I’m looking for a fic and more like that.

So you know how theres this TikTok Sound of someone called Nick who asks for the WLAN Password and its I Love You Nick and Nick is in a lot of denial about being lovers even though their anniversary is coming up?

I found a fic that was basically WY and LZ in a relationship, and WY/LZ (but more likely WY) didn’t realise that they were anything more than friends, and it was very funny.

More comedic than anything else. But I cannot for the life of me find it, and everytime I try and search for it, only the sad version shows up.

Please send help, I need to read this fluff….I crave it. @desperation-is-my-middle-name

~*~

[viisator]

The Corpse's Bride -- PART TWO

Tittle : The Corpse’s Bride

Pairing : Nishimura Riki x F!Redear x Yang Jungwon

Genre : Fantasy, Tragedy, Fiction, (angst, fluff)

Warning : Death, skeleton, Corpses.

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of the famous dressing merchant, and she is to marry the son of the Baron in the west. But one event ruined it all when Y/n found herself wandering in the land of the dead and accidentally marrying a dead boy on the side of the river.

Inspired by the movie ‘Corpse Bride’

Not Proofread

(This fanfic I wrote is inspired and I made it so like the movie 'Corpse Bride’. I just love that movie so much, so I think It’ll be fun making an en- fic abt it … So yeah. I wrote this. And I wrote this 'cuz it’s kinda sad letting go of the things, and people we love so much, and I hate letting go of stuff/someone, so I just wrote this.)

• • • • •

"Can you tell me what is it you were running away from?" Jungwon gently asked, tilting his head a little trying to match her height.

"Marriage." He was shocked when he heard what the girl said.

"May I know who's the man you were to marry?"

"You might be shocked, but they say that the L/n's daughter runs away from marrying Baron Yang's son, so lady Yang sent a letter this morning and requested the marriage my parents and the Baron were talking about those past few years" Jungwon was shocked, and his body was frozen when he heard what the girl said.

'It can't be.'

The girl looks at him, knitting her eyebrows, wondering what was wrong, and why was he looking at her with wide-open eyes that seem like he cannot believe it.

"Are you telling me you were to marry Yang Jungwon?"

"Yes?" The girl looks at him bewildered, still hasn't realized that she was found by what she was running away from.

They stared at each other for almost 7 seconds, until Jungwon pulls the girl out of the woods bringing her to the dimly lighted streets near the Yang Manor, but before they could take a step inside the manor's gate, the girl's feet turn ice cold, when Jungwon turned around and saw how her face was paralyzed with fear and took noticed how she tightly gripped his arms, he looks at her in the eyes with concern.

"Are you afraid of going inside?" His soft voice rang into the girl's ear making her shoulders swiftly go down.

"I'm afraid to meet him, I'm afraid that my parents will look at me, and their eyes will show how disappointed they were because of me, I'm afraid that he'll be displeased, I'm afraid they'll look at me differently, I'm afraid I'll mess up, what if I mess up?" It was like wildfire, her thoughts are sprouting like wildfire lost in a forest, that do not know what to do, she was afraid.

"Don't you wanna marry the Baron's son?"

"The Baron's son?... No. No, I do not."

"Then, do you wanna help me find L/n Y/n, so you'll stay as you were before, and then the Baron's son will continue to marry Y/n, you'll never have to deal with marriage at the moment, does that sounds nice?" The offer sounds like music to the girl's ear, and her eyes once again reflect light, hope was formed in her heart.

"I would love to!"

Y/n and Riki are walking down a field. Y/n could only think of how the field looked so...so dead. It was a field of flowers, it was a field of daffodils, daffodils that has no life, the flowers, and the grasses around are brown, dehydrated, and dry.

"This is the only romantic place that I know... well, maybe not, it doesn't look so colorful, and there is no sun that would set nor rise any sooner." Riki sighed after saying those disappointedly.

"It looks lovely." Her voice, for the first time, sounds so easy, it made Riki's mood cheer up a little after hearing it.

Riki cheekily smiled, looking everywhere but her eyes, but quickly turned around when he heard small giggles come from his side. He can feel it, He can feel the fluttery butterfly across his stomach, and the warmness of his face, he feels it again, it's been a long while since that feeling was there.

"What is it? Why have you been staring at me for so long?" Y/n laughed out while Riki's eyes stayed on her way.

"Are you getting deja vu?" Her question was odd, He was taken aback, the question rang over and over again in his head until her eyes locked with his, they could feel it now, but they know they've felt this before. They've felt this before somewhere else.

______

It has been a while since Jungwon and the girl have been looking around for a grave, they have followed the river, but there still was no grave to be found.

"Kind Sir, we have been walking together for quite some time now, may you tell me what is your name?" After hours of walking side by side with each other, that question was already been expected by Jungwon, it was quite long before it was said and he was close to believing that the question -- his name -- will not be brought up. Until now.

"It's Fred--... Jespersen" His mind went blank for a second, and hastily spat out a random name he can think of.

The girl then nod, looking straight up ahead of her, and another question popped up.

"Which house are you from? As long as I've known, Jespersen's mostly are common people." The girl then looks at him, and he stops in his tracks, thinking of an answer while his mouth is hardly shut.

"Oh..." The girl then realized her mistake. "It wasn't my intention to offend nor judge common people, it was only that the Jespersen surname was mostly used by commoners. I apologize." The girl frustratedly explains while Jungwon is thankful that her explanation brought him more time to think of an answer to her question.

"It was because I am just a lowly merchant's son, whose business is hardly recognized, and only a few know about." The girl looks at him amused, and he sensed that the girl is interested in the topic he had made up. And so he continued;

"Yes, our family sells women's dresses, though I could be honest and say the L/n's dresses are more extravagant and more beautiful than ours, though I know it is affordable by those 'lowly commoner'." He made that up once again, and the girl believed it also.

"Oh don't be silly Mr. Jespersen! Calling your family 'lowly merchant' is an offense, if you merchants don't exist, then where should we buy products? We have to make it ourselves then, and I could barely hold a needle for sewing! And also, merchants are rich." Jungwon laughed after hearing those, he could only smile at the thought of him manipulating her quite well.

They walk deeper into the woods following the flowing river beside them, while they entertain themselves by talking, and asking each other's questions until they saw rocks across the said river, like a trail for them to cross it. And so they did.

Jumping there and then, Jungwon finally crossed the river, but when he looks at his back, the girl was struggling, she could barely jump, for she's not so good with these kinds of activities, and she is now stuck in the middle of the river, standing in one of those rocks across the water.

Jungwon hopped into the rocks once more, holding the girl's hand and guiding her slowly as they cross the flowing river. She could feel the warmness of his palms, he was holding her hands and the other her waist, it felt weird to her, and his face is so close, she never realized his eyes are these beautiful, she never had taken note of his long eyelashes, she also has never seen how his jawlines are wavy until now, and oh, his lips, it's gorgeously parted, she hitched a breath.

They were so close to each other, it made the girl's heart beat quite faster than usual.

Oh, what could might this be? Has she fallen in love with a merchant's son? If so, then they really should find L/n Y/n.

The girl hasn't realized the truth, but it might be dangerous for both of them if ever it was revealed.

_______

"Do you want to go back?" The log Y/n and Riki are sitting at is cold, the air in the land of the dead is no colder than the hands that are holding Y/n tight, as if afraid her hands will slip away.

"Go back to where? To your room?" She asks because inside of her, she's already half accepted that she'll be staying in the land where people who are no longer in the world are, but of course, she still misses the warmth of the day up there.

"No," Riki said as silence followed him as he stared deeply into her eyes searching for the answer to the things he was feeling. Is he making the right decision? Because in the depths of his throat, he can't seem to find his voice.

"Y/n..." As silent as a whisper, he calls out.

"Yes?" And you answered, trying to sound as warm as your breath, and hoped that he could feel that you were also trying, trying to fix the things that were messed up.

"Do you want to go back; go back to your parents-- go back to him?" It breaks your heart. You don't know, but if you were honest, the idea relieves and excites you. But the tone of his voice, the crack that his throat made, and the look on his face. His face is hard, his forehead is frowned and his lips are down.

You were silent. You could only pay him back the same look that he has. How could you ever tell him that you wanted to go back-- and how could you, if you're already up there and missed him?

"....I--"

"I know a way Y/n, I know a way to go up there, you could meet your parents again, see their faces again, and --"

"And leave you here? Alone?" It was melancholy, and your tone mirrored the melancholic swirls in your stomach and the ache in your chest. Because how could you? How could you ever crush his dreams? He only wanted to love and be loved again, but the thing is, do you love Riki?

"It's all fine. For these past years, I stayed here." He squeezes your hand.

"But all those years, were you happy?" Then his lips trembled.

"Y/n...do you think if we--" He stopped and swallowed the lump in his throat. "--if you stayed here with me--for all of those eternities, never leaving this place. Do you think you'll be happy?" It's your turn to swallow the lumps.

"Do you think we-- both of us will be happy?" A single tear threatened to fall on your cheeks, but you stared at him never blinking, never looking anywhere else but those expressive eyes of his.

"Let's try." You whispered out. "Let's go up there, I'll tell my goodbyes to my Mother, and I'll give my last hug to my Father, then let's try to live happily in eternity."

He led the way up to the tower of the "old as time"--as he called him. You've decided, you'll do the farewells and go back in here in the land of the dead once you've said your goodbyes to your parents.

You both found yourself standing in front of a long old set of stairs and up there stands an old house.

There, he said that the longest dead is in there, and they all called him Elder Gutknecht.

He guided you up the wooded stairs, it lets out a squeak whenever you take a step. His cold hands never left yours, and once you're finally up the last step, an old door greets your face. In the door, there's a sign hanging up, and it dances whenever the wind hits it.

"Old as time," says the sign. Then Y/n's eyes went down and noticed another one that said:

"FOR HEAVENS RIKI! KNOCK FIRST!" quite amusing, she thought.

Distracted by the sign, a loud bang startled her concentration when Riki harshly opened the door with the absence of mercy of knocking.

"I'm here again!" Greeted Riki at the old skeleton walking down the stairs.

"How many times, Young Man!" Elder Gutknecht started. "How many times will I have to tell you to knock, or just casually open the door without banging it!" Riki let out an apologetic laugh.

"Um, well, I guess that's my bad, forgetting about that--so, I'm here to ask for help." Says Riki.

"I am guessing that involves your living bride?" Says the old man.

"Well, yes."

Elder Gutknecht sighed and proceeded to get a book, dust covered the book like plastic wrap. Then turned to look at Riki, then shifted his gaze to Y/n. His nonexistent eyes stayed on her for a second.

"What is it, young man?" Finally, he looked at his book with disappointment--or perhaps sadness in his voice.

"We want to go up there. My wife wanted to see her parents." Warmth spread through Y/n's chest after hearing him say those. But Elder Gutknecht felt the opposite.

"You do know that it'll be dangerous for you, for all of us when you go up there and disturb the balance between the living and the dead. Don't you?" He looked at Riki with threatening eyes.

"Quite--I guess..." And Riki answered with nervous laughter.

"Alright...just say "Hopscotch" if you've decided to go back here." Says Elder Gutknecht. But in the pit of his non-existent belly, down to his non-existent stomach, he felt very wrong. Something will turn out the wrong way once he sends them up there.

_______

Y/n didn't have to say the joy she felt when they stepped foot in the dark forest as the cool wind blew her hair out of her face.

Riki could see her eyes shine with the moon. Then it hits him suddenly, realizing that she looks happier up in here than when she was down there. It must've been hard on her the most...what is he supposed to do? Can he let her go? Why would he want to let her go? He finally has someone to spend all of his eternity--

Usually, cold air doesn't bother Riki so much, because his own body is cold--literally--but whenever her touch leaves him, the cold of the wind makes him shiver; so when Y/n pulled him out of trans, he could only hope she'd not let go.

Note: not exactly like the movie , huh? Forgive me. This from my Wattpad btw, so it's kinda my draft too...

PART ONE | PART THREE

[panphilosopher]

Fic Idea: Chaggie/Chaggily child AU except it's Vaggie's child when she was a human. (TW: sex violence)

The idea if Vaggie's human origin still happens.

During her time as a sex worker, Vaggie could accidently be impregnated. The idea she didn't realize she was pregnant until at least the beginning of her early second trimester.

Since abortion is illegal in El Salvador and cultural upbringing, Vaggie could be reluctant to have abortion until decided to carry it.

I cannot think of a name, but I'm calling Vaggie's child Mirabel (lol).

Being disowned by her own family fuck Vaggie up psychologically, and decided to raise her (likely have a girlfriend who helped her).

Vaggie absolutely loves her daughter; she dotted her, she was her moon and sun. Gave her endearing names.

Tragically struck; when Mirabel is between 3-5, Vaggie was killed (either to sex violence, struck by vehicle, gang related death, etc).

Vaggie ascended to Heaven (likely having a traumatic life and still caring for her daughter), but Vaggie was devastated because that meant she separated from Mirabel.

Worse, and this part of my headcanon, time is irrelevant in the afterlife. I get the idea from The Good Place; look up Jeremy Bearimy. That's meant Vaggie will not see Mirabel for hundreds of years.

Every year in the afterlife time, Vaggie will have a somber celebration for Mirabel. I would like to say around September to October. Is Vaggie way for her to grieved for not raising her daughter.

Vaggie was also recruited into the Exorcists early, ascended into an angel.

The fic would follow the canon route: Vaggie did the extermination, spears a sinner, and Lute cut her eye and ripped her wings, Charlie would find her, and both fell in love, opened thr Hotel, battle the Exorcists and won. Also, down the line, Emily would fall too and enter a poly-relation with Vaggie and Charlie because I ship Unholy Trinity.

Like three months after the battle, Vaggie and Charlie hold a somber birthday for Mirabel (Vaggie told Charlie when they started dating).

All the hotel residents wondered who birthday is it, and Vaggie tells them its for her daughter.

Cue everybody is going "WHAT" "YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER" and Emily screamed, "Why didn't you tell me?!".

Even Charlie gasped before saying, "Why am I gasping? I already knew that."

I see Vaggie as a very closed person, won't tell people her past unless she trust them, and seeing she openly celebrating her daughter's birthday means she does now. Also, she likely didn't realized she hasn't tell Emily yet.

Now, here comes the angst: a few days after Vaggie's fell (or forced fall), Mirabel ascended to Heaven.

I don't think Vaggie and her former partner will have a healthy relationship. Not fault for either of them: poverty, homophobic society, and that Vaggie being a sex worker. Vaggie decided to keep Mirabel just add another fight between them.

After Vaggie died, her former partner gave Mirabel up to an orphanage. I do see her feeling guilty and likely giving donations to the orphanage, but that's it.

I will see Mirabel being a selfless girl: the big sister of the orphanage, gave her dinner portion to the children who's nearly starving, is known around the town for helping people, things like that.

She vaguely remembered Vaggie, only remembered that her mother loved her, the pet name, and I believed a nursery song that Vaggie sang to her.

Mirabel likely died around 15-17, and I say either to traffic accident or a bullet stray from a gang shoot-out.

After arriving in Heaven, Mirabel will look everywhere and try to find Vaggie. However, she doesn't know her name and not realize she isn't in Heaven.

A month after the failed extermination, Lute discovered Mirabel, and being the sadistic bastard she is, recruited Mirabel into being an Exorcist, making her an angel too.

She gives half lies about Vaggie: being an Exorcist but was killed during the failed extermination by Charlie's paramor. Since Vaggie never actually introduced herself during the Redemption Hearing, and that Mirabel vaguely remembered how Vaggie looked like (especially her afterlife/her fallen angel form if take fanon route).

Cue Mirabel trained and searched for her mom's killer, not realizing her mom is alive and said killer is her mom.

[cranetreegang]

Save Her - Ominis x FemReader

Alright my fellow Ominis Simps. Here is the angst chapter (a lil late i know my b i was watching a rocket launch). If I don't make at least one of you cry, i will shut down my account and never write again. on god. no cap.

im just kidding ;) i ain't leaving suckas! hahahah you're stuck with me >:)

But low key, i do need someone to tell me to stop. i think im getting too crazy with some of these ideas.

Read Part 1 Here

🎶 Music to enjoy/feel to -> I'm Sending You Away and Never Goodbye and The Departure 🎶

Summary: Ominis and the Fifth Year are no longer speaking to one another. A rift Sebastian takes note of, and tries to bridge for them. Things take a turn, and she may be lost to them... forever

Word Count: ~7,400 words

Warnings: ANGST, Fighting, slight cursing, mentions of death, near death

Read my other Ominis Fics Here

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

Sebastian knows something is wrong. 

Over the past few days, Ominis has been far more curt than normal - not even bothering to exchange pleasantries half the time and he rarely ever smiles unless it’s a sneering smirk after a scathing remark. His patience is all but gone as well. His short temper extends not just to Sebastian though. A Second Year, who made the unfortunate mistake of bumping into Ominis one morning, received a tongue-lashing so intense, it would have made Professor Sharp blush. And now, almost everyone gives Ominis a wide berth so as to not face his wrath. 

Sebastian hasn’t witnessed Ominis this cold and cruel since their First Year, but even then he was still civil if not a bit aloof. He’s tried to speak to Ominis about his recent behavior, but Ominis is quick to dismiss him. Even going so far as to state it’s none of Sebastian’s concern and to stop ‘meddling with affairs he has no business being in’. Sebastian would be lying if Ominis’ words hadn’t stung him. 

Sebastian also took note in the lacking presence of their mutual friend. She was a common sight in the Undercroft or hanging off Ominis’ arm, but she’s been notably absent. When Sebastian brought up asking her to come study with them, Ominis gave him such a scathing glare, Sebastian had flinched away to avoid any hexes he might send his way. But, beneath the menacing stare, was an undeniable pain at the mention of her. And Sebastian almost couldn’t believe it. He stormed all over the castle to confront her for hurting Ominis. But then he found her.

She was leaning against a window overlooking the courtyard - her gaze far away. She looked abysmal and her features were contorted into an equally pained expression as Ominis. After he saw her, he started to really take notice of the state she’s been in. 

She's all but withdrawn. At dinner, she picks around her food while she glances towards Ominis - barely replying to anything Sebastian is trying to tell her. He’s caught Natty and Poppy both trying to help with her unkempt hair - brushing out the tangles in between classes while she stares blankly ahead. The dark circles under her eyes shows she doesn’t sleep much, if at all. When others speak to her, she rarely acknowledges, or she speaks so softly she might as well not have said anything at all. And everytime she tries to approach Ominis, Sebastian swears Ominis turns his back to her and goes the other way. It’s her longing gaze which eats at Sebastian the most. He’s never seen her this pathetic and beaten before.

Sebastian sighs as he thinks about his two friends. This cannot continue, he decides. And since they’ve yet to mend whatever is wrong between them on their own, he knows he has to step in and figure out what’s going on. If not for their sake, at least for his own.

He first approaches her after potions. Having just witnessed Ominis storming out without so much as acknowledging Sebastian as he passed, he figures he would have far more luck with her than Ominis at the moment.

“Hey.” Sebastian greets her with a tentative smile while he helps her pack her things.

She gives him a smile back, but it doesn’t even come close to reaching her glassy eyes. 

“Alright. What’s going on between you two?” Sebastian questions her as they walk out of the classroom. “And don’t say it’s ‘nothing’ as it most certainly is not. Tell me what’s gotten into the two of you.”

She looks at him as if she had been stricken. Her eyes trail over to where Ominis stomped away moments ago.

“It’s my fault… I messed it all up, Sebastian.” She whispers, her lip quivering.

He doesn’t waste time and he takes her to the more secluded section of the castle - since the Undercroft is absolutely out of the question. They take their place next to one another overlooking the Black Lake - where the wind carries its damp smell all the way here, on the rickety, old long bridge outside the Clocktower Courtyard. The looming gray clouds bring about an oncoming winter storm and it makes the wind bite their cheeks. She grips onto the wooden post with a somber expression and her eyes are glazed over. 

“Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help. I mean, I can’t fathom how you could actually mess something up with Ominis beyond repair. He adores you.” Sebastian says with a grin.

She gives him a wry smile, “I doubt he adores me anymore.” She closes her eyes with a deep sigh then asks in a whisper, “Have you ever made a mistake that you wish with every fiber of your being you could take back?”

Sebastian nods with a solemn expression, “Of course. I think we all have, at some point.”

It takes her several breaths before she continues.

“I’m sure you’re aware that Ominis comes from a long line of Legilimens.” 

He nods, “I know Salazar was one. Can’t say I’m surprised the talent stayed in the bloodline.”

“Well, I was hoping I could help him master his Legilimency. So he would be able to… feel me whenever he wished. It was supposed to help quell his worries when I’m not at the castle. So he knows I’m alright.” 

He waits for her to continue while her fingers pick at the weathered wood and a grimace consumes her features.

“After a particularly intense session, he now believes that I want to-, that I-I want to fix him. Wh-Which isn’t true. He’s not broken. He doesn’t need mending. I know this.” 

Sebastian lowers his gaze to the chasm below with a quiet inhale. He knows Ominis to be sensitive on the subject. Ominis’ mother in particular has been keen on him being ‘cured’ - going so far as to procure him magical eyes to be inserted at the removal of his current eyes. 

She lets out a shaky breath as her head falls, “B-But, maybe my motives were never in good nature. Despite my intentions, perhaps on some level, I did want to… fix him. And this was always selfish in nature.”

She sighs, “I won’t deny the allure of him able to see - even if it’s just through memories. It’s exciting. A gift.” She pauses and Sebastian can see her body trembling. “A gift, he never asked for, but I assumed he wanted.” 

Her hands cover her face, “Oh, Sebastian - I didn’t realize how carelessly I approached all of this until it was too late. And now, he won’t even speak to me.” 

Her last sentence comes out as a near whisper and she ducks away from him to hide her crying. Sebastian grabs her, turning her back to him, then he pulls her into a tight hug. She holds onto him as her head presses into his chest.

“Hey. Don’t cry. Don’t cry now.” He hushes. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

“No. No it won’t. You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Sebastian. I’ve never seen him so cold. He hates me. I fear this can’t be mended in any way. I-I’m sure he believes I’m no better than his wretched family.”

Sebastian pulls her away with a frown and furrowed brows, “You are nothing like that. Don’t even compare yourself to them. Do you hear me?!” 

She lowers her gaze from his and his fingers jerk her chin back up to him.

“Look at me.” He demands in a stern tone. “You need to stop wallowing in self-pity this instant. And we need to come up with a way to sit Ominis down to work this whole thing out. You both are being absolutely ridiculous. Him even more so. He’s being a right bloody arse, and you’re the only one who can sort him out.” 

“But, he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say. Anytime I try to go to him, he just ignores me, or walks away.” She grimaces - biting her lip to keep another wave of sobs from spilling out.

Sebastian smirks, “It’s a good thing I have my own way with him. I think I may have an idea.”

===========================

Sebastian will be the first to admit his surprise at Ominis’ acceptance to go to Hogsmeade, but he’s not about to complain. 

The journey there is all but silent. The storm of yesterday is upon them and leaves the sky in a dark gloom. Chilling winds cut through the wall of trees - kicking up the snow along the banks - and Sebastian wraps his arms around his chest to keep some of his warmth. He spares glances at his friend, noting how his brows are pinched together and his lips are pressed into a tight frown - seemingly unaffected by the frigid gales. He sees the dark circles under Ominis’ eyes as well and he finds some hope, that underneath all his bitter anger, Ominis still cares for her. And he’s just as upset by all this as she is. 

It’s once they’re at Honeydukes, does Sebastian finally find his chance to broach the subject. He catches Ominis lingering on a shelf of candies. Her favorite. His fingers glide over the boxes and he has a somber smile as he does. 

“You should get her something.” Sebastian says as he stands near Ominis. 

He retracts his hand, as if burned, and he sneers, “Why on earth would I do that?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sebastian drawls out while Ominis turns towards the door - the bell ringing as they both leave the warm shop and head into the bitter cold, “to cheer her up. She’s been quite down lately. Like someone killed her beloved pet right in front of her. Not even Poppy can cheer her up - and she’s been throwing Puffskeins at her all week.” 

Ominis frowns at this, hurrying his stride - but Sebastian is hot on his heels.

“Is that what this venture is about? Did she put you up to this?” Ominis spits. 

“Far from it. She barely speaks any more - did you know that? I couldn’t talk to her if I tried.” 

Sebastian catches the wince rippling across Ominis’ features before he resumes his stoic indifference. 

“Well, perhaps that’s for the best.” 

Sebastian’s eyes widen, “You don’t mean that, Ominis.” 

“What if I did?” He retorts with an edge in his voice - any others would have backed down, but Sebastian has never been one to take heed of such things.

“Because if you did, you’d be as cruel as that brother of yours. And you and I both know, that’s not true.” Sebastian states. “Tell me. What’s wrong? What happened between you two? I thought you adored each other. And now, you practically hate her guts. Has she done something truly that unforgivable?” 

“I don’t hate her.” Ominis snaps then he grimaces with a slight shake of his head, “I thought she was different. But, she’s just like all the others. I should’ve known better than to expect anything else.” 

“What does that even mean, Ominis?” 

Ominis scoffs, “It means exactly that. If you want to know more - go interrogate her instead. I’m sure she’s dying to tell you all about it. Since she’s so apt on fixing everyone’s problems, it’ll be good for her to worry about herself for a change.”

Sebastian winces at his harsh tone while doubts of him being able to help start to bubble up. He sucks in a sharp breath, clenching his fists in determination.

“You know,” Sebastian says while they wind their way on the path back to Hogwarts, “is there any way you two could talk this out? Perhaps this is all one big misunderstanding!” 

“Doubtful.” 

Sebastian curses to himself at Ominis’ stubbornness. He hates when Ominis gets like this - and there’s only ever been one person who’s able to get him to come around to reason. And Ominis is refusing to ever speak to her again.

“Can’t you at least give her a chance to apologize? Bury the hatchet, and whatnot?” Sebastian practically pleads. “You do care for her. I know you do, Ominis. Despite all this guise of pretending you don’t. And guess what - she still cares about you. So, what’s stopping you? Your pride? I sincerely hope not. Because you, of all people, should know better.”

Ominis’ brows pinch together and his eyes soften. Ominis won’t deny, it’s been extremely difficult to keep up his ‘indifference’ towards her. He longs for her. But, he doesn’t know how to face her. 

“I-,” Ominis stops, his wand pointing to something ahead on the path. Sebastian follows his wand until he sees what’s got Ominis’ attention. 

She’s walking up to them - her hands are wringing together and her eyes are glued to Ominis. Sebastian curses to himself again.

Ominis turns to Sebastian with a scowl, “You lied. You did speak to her. To what? Ambush me?!” 

“I told you to wait in the Undercroft.” Sebastian hisses at her. 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” She speaks up. “I just want to talk to you, Ominis. Please.” 

Sebastian can see the hurt within Ominis, despite his best attempts to keep it all at bay. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Ominis stomps past her. 

“Wait, please!” She catches up to him, tugging on his sleeve to get him to stop. 

“Get your hand off of me!” He whips around with a snarl, “Are you dense? Surely you must realize that I want nothing to do with you!” 

Sebastian stands next to her with his mouth agape, “Ominis.” 

Ominis bites his tongue hard enough to flood his mouth with a hot copper taste. He’s ready to yank his arm from her loose grasp and run away from the both of them when the noise of twigs breaking gets all of their attention. 

“You!” A masked man shouts as he emerges from the treeline - his wand pointing towards her and Ominis. “There you are! You lil’ meddling brat.”

Without pause, Ominis hears a spell being cast. He doesn’t have time to react before she steps in front of him. He hears her gasp and her body crumples to the ground with an audible thud. Sebastian is firing back at their assailants and spells whiz past Ominis’ head - just barely missing him. Ominis gathers his wits enough to help Sebastian. His casting is frantic and phrenetic. He hates the satisfaction he has in hearing the Ashwinders cries of pain when he and Sebastian land their heated spells, but he doesn’t restrain himself. 

It doesn’t take much to drive the dark wizards back, and they soon retreat into the forest from whence they came. A chilling stillness settles in the air with not a bird’s song nor insect’s chitter to break it - only the howling wind and Ominis’ and Sebastian’s heavy breaths. 

Ominis turns to check on her, when his foot hits something. He falls to the ground and he nearly recoils at touching her leg. He says her name over and over again as his hands move up her body to her face. He searches her face for any sort of movement, but she’s still. His heart seizes once he gets to her eyes. They’re wide open. Frozen in a lifeless expression. Sebastian stares at the scene with his mouth agape and his heart twisting.

“Sebastian? Is she alright? What’s wrong with her?” Ominis whimpers. He shouldn’t be this numb, nor feel that his world is disintegrating around him. But he does. And he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

Sebastian is somewhat thankful Ominis cannot see her as he’s sure Ominis would shatter at the sight. Her eyes are wide, swallowed in an eerie teal mist, and staring blankly ahead. If it weren’t for the slight movements of her chest - he would believe her dead. Ominis drags her into his arms as he feels over her face in horror.

“Answer me!” Ominis demands, his haunting gray eyes a full on tempest as he searches in vain for Sebastian.

“She’s alive.” He states in a stern tone and Ominis lets out an audible sigh. “But, something’s wrong. I-I think they cursed her.” Sebastian can taste the bile in his mouth at the thought. “We need to get her to Hogwarts. Now.”

Ominis shuts his eyes then nods. 

Sebastian casts a Hover Charm on her - making her float lifelessly in the air. Ominis holds her close to him and they carry her back to the castle. They sprint into the Hospital Wing and start to babble like madmen once they arrive. The Nurse helps set their unconscious friend on a bed then pushes them back with a flick of her wand and she’s quick to work without a single word.

Ominis and Sebastian stand in silence. Sebastian glances over to his eerily still best friend and he places his hand on Ominis’ shoulder. 

“She’ll be okay.” He whispers. “She’s a lot tougher than she looks.” 

Ominis trembles under Sebastian’s touch, so he brings Ominis under his arm into a strong side hug. Sebastian hates this. He hates waiting for an answer. He hates seeing his friend - hurt and unmoving. And he hates the wretched expression upon Ominis. It sends Sebastian into a spiral of helplessness. He holds Ominis tighter - it’s the least he can do… the only thing he can do.

“I told her I wanted nothing to do with her.” He closes his eyes with a shaky breath. “Why did I say such a vicious thing to her?” 

Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, but Madame Blainey approaches them with a grim expression.

“Her body is unharmed. But, she’s suffering from a botched Memory Charm.” Madame Blainey states.

“What does that mean? Will she be alright then? That means you can fix it, right?” Sebastian questions. 

Madame Blainey sighs, her eyes downcast, “The state she’s currently in is not optimistic. She will have to be transferred to St. Mungos for further treatment. And…,” 

“And what?” Ominis’ voice is cold and devoid of any emotion. 

“St. Mungos will keep her comfortable.” Blainey spares them a sad, pitying smile between the two boys. “You may need to prepare yourselves for the possibility of her not waking from this.” 

Ominis’ shoulders sag and Sebastian scowls - taking a step towards the Matron with clenched fists. 

“That can’t be. You said it was a shoddy charm. So, why can’t it be remedied? Why can’t you heal her?!” Sebastian demands, his voice rising with every question. 

The Nurse raises both of her hands to ease Sebastian, but it does little to quell the indignation dancing in his dark eyes.

“The Charm may not have worked as intended. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t affect her.” Madame Blainey turns towards the occupied bed - where she lays, unmoving upon the pristine white sheets. 

 “She’s currently lost in her own mind. Unless she’s able to find her way back, I’m afraid she will remain lost to us.” 

Madame Blainey turns back to the two boys, “I am truly so sorry. I wish I had better news. I’ll leave you two alone with her.” 

Madame Blainey bows her head before she goes into her office - shutting her door with a click. 

Sebastian glares at the shut door while Ominis takes shaky steps forward until he reaches the foot of her bed. His fingers trace up her leg until they reach her hand. His hand wraps around hers and he lets out a gasp.

“She’s so cold.” He whispers. 

Ominis collapses to his knees with a silent sob, “This is all my fault.” 

Sebastian goes to his side, wrapping an arm around his heaving shoulders. Sebastian bites his lip to keep his own tears at bay. 

“This is not your fault, Ominis.” He squeezes Ominis’ shoulder while his other hand rubs up and down Ominis’ arm.

“It is. It is.” Ominis cries. “She wouldn’t be like this if I hadn’t been so cruel to her. I-If I would’ve given her the chance to speak. Instead, I-I just ignored her. I knew she was hurting, Sebastian. I knew I was hurting her. But, I chose to ignore it. All because I assumed the worst in her. And now, the last thing I said to her was that I didn’t want her.”

Ominis lets out a heavy breath, “Yet, she still chose to protect me. Even then she still… cared.” 

Ominis manages to get back to his unstable legs long enough to stumble towards the head of the bed. He feels over her face, brushing aside her hair as he does so. He buries himself into the crook of her neck and Sebastian can only place a reassuring hand upon Ominis’ back - and watch. 

“Please. Please. Wake up. Wake up and tell me what a fool I am. And how foolish I’ve been. Please, just wake up.” Ominis begs.

Sebastian can’t stand how hurt Ominis is, nor can he stand the blank expression upon her face staring at him. So, he leaves without a word. His destination - plainly written in his mind. 

====================

Ominis can barely hear the breaths leaving her. He has to strain his ears to catch the hint of an exhale escaping her. He places his hand over her heart. There’s a slight rise and fall, and a faint strumming of a near nonexistent heartbeat against his palm. 

“If this is your way of getting back at me for how-,” his throat cinches and he has to suck in a sharp breath, “For how I’ve been. I’d say you’ve made your point. You can stop. You can wake up now.” 

He sounds pathetic and desperate, even to his own ears, but he doesn’t care. He’ll gladly grovel at her feet, weep for forgiveness, anything. Anything. He'd give, he’d do, he’d say anything, just to hear her curse his name - to direct all the malicious things he’s said to her unto him. At least then, she’d be… 

He shakes his head at the grim thought. She’s not dead. She’s simply lost, as the Matron put it. 

“Lost in thought.” He murmurs. “I hope they’re pleasant thoughts. An old adventure perhaps? The ones you like to tell me about - even though they worry me to know you were in such a perilous situation.” He laughs, bitterly and near sobbing. 

“I hope it’s the one you and I were on together. I enjoyed it. Although, you did nearly get us killed.” He smiles to himself.

He feels over the top of her far too cold hand and he slips off his school robe. He drapes it across her while he focuses on the rise and fall of her chest - satisfied she is indeed still breathing. 

“Or maybe it’s best to not think of me at all. I wouldn’t blame you.” He murmurs as he grabs her hand once more. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t come to you. I wanted to. So badly. So very, very badly. It’s been driving me mad. Not being able to talk to you. There’s so much I want to tell you.”

But now, those words may forever remain unspoken. He shudders at the thought. 

“It’s not to say I wasn’t upset with you.” He confesses. “I was. Even now, I’m angry at you for throwing yourself into harm’s way - yet again. You’re so incredibly, unbelievably careless. And look at where it’s gotten you!” 

He lets out a sharp breath, ripping his hands away while he falls back into his chair. 

“You must be laughing right now at how-,” he gasps, “At how much pain I’m in. I’m in absolute agony right now, and you don’t even realize. Because you care about everyone so much - but never yourself! Why is that? Why don’t you love yourself to the same degree that everyone else loves you? Like I love you.” 

He falls into his hands and his fingers dig into his hair, practically ripping it from his scalp. 

“I love you so much. It pains me. I thought this was supposed to be a sweet, wonderful thing - yet here I am. In misery.” 

He strains his ears again, and he catches a slight exhale. 

“Say something, will you? Anything. Please. Just say something. End my torment.” He whimpers. 

Another near silent breath is his only response. 

He sits back up and slowly, carefully, reaches out for her. He tangles his fingers in her hair - far more gently than he had for himself - and he has her hand in a vice-like grip. He strokes her scalp while he listens for any slight changes in her breathing. But, it’s steady. Like she’s in a deep sleep and he’s merely trying to disturb her rest. 

“I know. I know.” He sighs. 

“I know you don’t like it when I’m upset. Especially over your… adventures. I just wish it was someone else in your place. Selfish, I know. But I never claimed I wasn’t. I wish you weren’t the way you are. So wanting to do good and to help those that have no merit for it.” 

He smiles softly, “But, that’s also why I love you so fiercely - that bleeding, kind heart of yours. Which, so foolishly, believes me worthy. Worthy enough to protect me. To care and love me.” 

He shakes his head to dispel the tears threatening to fall, “You are such a fool.” 

He squeezes her hand, his heart twisting when he doesn’t feel her squeeze right back, then he shifts to be closer to her. He presses a kiss on her forehead then rests his head against her temple. His nose brushes against her cheek and he sighs, taking in her sweet, calming scent. 

“It’s alright. For I’m a fool, too. We can be fools together. You and I.” He laughs, “It sounds wonderful, actually. We can live a foolish life. Doing foolish things. And, it’d be perfect. Because, you’d be there with me. And I, with you.” 

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose and letting it pass through his lips in a near whine. 

“I hope that’s what you’re lost in right now. Us. Doing foolish things. Together. You and I.” 

He whispers with a tear trailing down his cheek, “You and I.”

==============

By the time Sebastian returns, it’s the early hours of the morning. He goes towards the candle light emitting from her bedside. It’s not nearly enough to keep the shadows at bay and the dark silhouettes of his two friends sends a chill down his spine. Ominis is in a chair holding her hand and stroking her hair. He’s never seen Ominis so disheveled. His hair is pulled out of his neat, slicked-back style and his starched clothes are rumpled and wrinkled - his school robe lays over her as a poor excuse of a blanket. 

Sebastian doubts he fairs much better - feeling the sting in his eyes from straining them and refusing to let the exhaustion manifest to slow him down. Sebastian can hear the soft whispers Ominis speaks to her the closer he gets, but he can’t make out what’s being said. Sebastian hovers by the foot of her bed, unable to break Ominis from his hushed pleadings. He’s like a stranger intruding on something intimate - something not meant for him to hear.

“She’ll be transferred to St. Mungos at first light.” Ominis states, his head not even turning towards Sebastian. Sebastian closes his eyes with a deep breath - his throat impossibly constricted. 

He moves towards Ominis to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“We can save her.” He says with not an ounce of wavering in his voice.

Ominis whips his head towards him with wide, glassy eyes, “How?” 

“We can’t do it here. We need to take her to the Undercroft.” 

Ominis nods, “Very well. How do you suggest we sneak her out?” 

Sebastian is grateful Ominis isn’t fighting him on this - and he’s quick to cast the Hover Charm on her once again. 

“Quickly. Before anyone sees.” Sebastian takes the lead, with Ominis trailing behind. 

They arrive at the Undercroft and place her down in the middle of the circle Sebastian has prepared. Ominis smells the distinct stench of incense in the air and he frowns.

“What is it we’re going to do?” 

Sebastian guides Ominis to kneel right by her head.

“It’s you. It has to be you, Ominis. You’re the only one who can save her.” Sebastian states. 

“Me? H-How?” Ominis reaches out in front of him until his fingers nestle in her hair. 

Sebastian takes his place next to Ominis, “You have to reach into her mind, find where she is, and then guide her out of the charm.”

Ominis shakes his head, “No. No, I can’t.”

“You’re the only one who can.”

Ominis wants to object, but Sebastian places a strong hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, Ominis.” Sebastian says. “You can do this. I know you can. She does too.” 

Ominis lets out a sharp exhale and he moves her head to rest on his thighs. He traces along her cheeks and jawline before he gives a short nod.

“I’ll try.” He whispers. 

Sebastian grins for a moment, “I’ve drawn a grounding circle around us to protect you from getting lost in there as well.”

“A grounding circle?” Ominis grimaces. “Sebastian, this doesn’t sound-,”

“Yes! Alright, yes.” Sebastian snaps. “This is experimental magic we’re doing - and it might not even work - but it’s all we got.” 

Ominis takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes, “Is there anything else I need to do?” 

“Just find her.” 

Ominis swallows down the apprehension, the fear, and the doubts. She needs him. And he won’t abandon her now. He takes another deep breath then searches for her eyes until he feels something tugging on him. 

He’s not greeted with the normal familiarity of her emotions. Instead, it’s an empty, stillness. It would be enough to send him reeling away, but he refuses to leave. Not without her. The more he feels around in the empty confines, he begins to notice there’s slight tears within this place. He reaches out and rips the veil apart. 

A slew of memories rush over him. He’s tossed around from one to the next and just when he’s beginning to understand what he’s seeing, he’s jerked to the next one - all fresh memories from the past few days. He has to watch as she tries to go to him, only for him to turn away from her - again and again and again. Each one hurts more and more, but he refuses to pull away. 

He keeps going even though his head feels like it’s being split into tiny pieces. 

He catches voices - Sebastian and her speaking. Then the voices of the men who attacked them. She didn’t even hesitate to move in front of him - all to protect him. How she still loves him, even though he said such horrible things to her not but mere moments ago is not something he quite understands. How could she be so…

Love. 

It speaks to him and the torrent he’s in slowly dies down as he focuses hard on the warm feeling. More images shift past him until finally it stays on just one, singular memory. 

The sun peers through the autumn leaves. Golds, reds, oranges, and browns are all in front of him. He blinks several times, nearly retreating from the overwhelming sight. It’s almost too much. All these colors swirl around him and it takes his breath away. He reaches out to grab the leaves as they flutter past, but they pass right through him as if he were no more than an apparition. He’s lost in absorbing the sights around him - walking along a stone path as he takes it all in. The chilled air and distant bird song brings him solace and the memory wraps around him like a warm blanket on a cold, winter’s night. Whatever this memory is, it’s important and it's like he’s been here numerous times before with how at home he feels.

He hears her soft laughter and he’s harshly reminded as to why he’s here. He sprints right towards it - going around bends and following the path until he finds two people walking next to each other. 

A boy with slicked-backed brownish-blonde hair wearing a black and emerald school robe and a girl in a similar black robe as the boy. The boy’s sightless gaze is in front of him - his head craned towards the girl next to him- and his wand emits a pulsing red glow. Ominis can’t believe he sees himself. More importantly, he can’t believe he sees her.

The sun casts a soft glow upon her smiling face and her shining hair. She keeps looking over at the boy - over at him - and every time, a warm smile tugs on her lips. He’s amazed at being able to see this smile reach all the way to her eyes - making them sparkle and shimmer. It’s enough to send his heart hammering in his chest as he watches them. He finds himself enamored with every little detail about her. Even the way she walks and moves her hands as she talks is captivating.  

He knows this day. 

They’re walking back from Hogsmeade. Long before they ever admitted to one another their feelings. Although he knew she looked at him often, he never imagined it was with such adoration. And the way her smile entangles in every word, it’s a wonder he didn’t piece it together sooner. He’s like a bystander as he watches them - they’re moving, yet they’re going nowhere and if he doesn’t keep his concentration on where he is, he finds himself looking through her eyes instead. A very disorienting sensation. 

He sees himself talking, but the words are distorted and cut in and out. He notices the woods around them are starting to get blurry and it’s all beginning to fade away. 

He concentrates until the memory comes back into focus with sharper clarity. They continue walking down the path and he goes to follow. He calls out her name, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He tries once more, yet again, nothing - not even a whisper. They’re walking away from him now and he’s running in place.

‘No. Come back! Don’t leave!’ He screams, but no sound comes out. He’s slipping and losing his grasp of this memory.

He won’t let her go. He digs within himself to compel the words to be uttered with every ounce of strength he has. 

Her name reverberates in a great shout and she stops walking. She turns to face him, the real him, and her eyes widen.

“Ominis?” She whispers. 

He laughs in both relief and disbelief. He runs towards her - his hand outstretched, “Yes. Please. Don’t go. Come with me.” 

She cranes her head and takes a step towards him with a slight smile until a voice cuts through:

“I want nothing to do with you!”

“Leave me alone!” 

“Get your hand off of me!” 

The memory begins to distort as she grimaces - backing away from him. The words keep repeating in a horrible mantra. It’s deafening and it makes him sick to hear his own vile words again and again.

“You’re not real.” She says, blinking back tears. “None of this is real.”

“Wait!” Ominis calls to her, but she’s already running away. 

No, no, no, she’s slipping from his grasp - then she may very well be forever lost. Something ignites within him - a sudden surge of control and power unlike anything he’s felt before and - with great effort - he forces everything to cease. The echoes of his words silence and the world around them fades until it’s just them in a dark, empty space. She turns towards him while he all but rushes to her. 

“Don’t go.” He cries. “Please. Come back.” 

She shakes her head while she steps away from him, “No. No, I don’t want to go back.”

“No, wait! Don’t leave me. I-I need you.” He pleads. 

He wants to go to her, but his feet refuse to lift. Some force is keeping him at bay. 

“I hurt you, Ominis. I didn’t mean to, but I did. I ruined everything.” She cries. “At least here, I can pretend. I can go back to how it was.” Her lip quivers and it breaks his heart to see her so upset. 

“You haven’t ruined anything, my love.” He whispers with a pleading expression. “It’s I who’s done that. I never should’ve pushed you away.”

He lowers his head, “I’ve been acting like that scared little boy that Marvolo would take toys from. The one Father would torment by ripping apart my mind. The son, a mother, so desperately wants to fix.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as he whispers, “It was easier to accept that you had ill-intent towards me than the truth.” 

She shakes her head, “The truth?”

He finds it impossible to look at her awaiting face, but he does. He knows he has to.

“It frightened me to see into your mind. Because, I wanted more. I wanted to see more. I wanted to be just like Father, and tear into your memories to make them all mine.”

He gasps at the truth leaving his lips. He stares at her as she stares back at him. He wishes he could understand the expression written upon her face. But, he doesn’t. All he can do is wait for her to speak.

She steps closer to him, “You are not your father, Ominis. And I’m so deeply sorry I put you in a position which made you feel even remotely like that. I never should have pushed you into doing what I believed you should want.”

He shakes his head with a bitter laugh, “If you hadn’t been so adamant on me learning how to do this, I wouldn’t be here right now. And you would be lost to me. And,” he looks at her with a wide smile, “I wouldn’t be able to see you now. Nor that beautiful memory.”

She lets out a near cry and her sweet smile brings him unfathomable joy. 

He steps towards her, “I’m not my father - I don’t have to use this ability the same way he does. I understand that now. This is, indeed, a gift. And I’m so sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

Her features morph into an earnest, pleading expression.

“This was never a means to fix you, Ominis. I don’t want to fix you.” She whispers. “I love who you are. And I’m so sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

He smiles as he nods emphatically, “I know. And I was such a fool to believe otherwise. You didn’t deserve that.”

She beams with a slight laugh, “We’ve both been fools, haven’t we?” 

“I’m afraid we have.” He laughs. “So, please,” he holds out his hand towards her, “come back with me, love. Come back.”

She glances between his outstretched hand and him. A warm smile comes over her.

She closes the space between them and embraces him. He lets out a gasp at how close he feels to her - far closer than he has before - as he embraces her just as fiercely back. He senses something tethering to him. It’s trying to bond with him. It’s a magic he’s never experienced before, but he knows it’s stemming from her. He lets it tangle around him and the dark place they’re in begins to shatter.

Ominis gasps, reeling from the experience, and he has to gather himself. He blinks several times, a frown forming at his sight being normal once more.

“Ominis! Are you alright? Did it work?” Sebastian grips Ominis’ arm while Sebastian’s gaze is firmly locked on her. Ominis’ hands feel over her unmoving face and his frown deepens. 

“I-I don’t know.”

She jolts up with an audible breath before she falls back into his lap. Sebastian laughs, shaking Ominis as she blinks up at both of them in confusion. 

“O-Ominis?” She mumbles and her brows pinch together. “Oh, Ominis. You look like you’ve been romped by a herd of Puffskeins.” 

Ominis chuckles, his relief palpable, “That would’ve been far more preferable. Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

She stares at Ominis with wide eyes. 

“So that was real.” She whispers with a wide smile as Ominis nods. He strokes her cheeks and she holds onto one of his wrists to ensure he stays right there.

 She turns her head towards Sebastian, “If this was your grand idea to get us back together,” she laughs, “well, I suppose it could’ve been worse.” 

Her eyes flutter shut with a groan,  “Although, my head is certainly killing me.”

Sebastian - unable to retort with a witty response - holds her free hand with a chuckle. Ominis leans his head against Sebastian’s shoulder, in both relief and exhaustion, while she glances between the two tear-stricken, grinning boys with a grin. 

“It’s so good to see you awake.” Sebastian smiles. “We were worried one of us was gonna have to slap you until you finally came to your senses.” 

She giggles, “Thank goodness it was unnecessary.” 

Ominis lets out a sharp laugh, “All thanks to you, Sebastian. None of this would’ve worked without you. Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” Sebastian grins at both of his friends, alive and well, with unmasked relief. Ominis plays with her hair with a warm smile while she looks up at Ominis with such adoration, it’s enough to churn Sebastian’s stomach from their sweetness. 

“So, let’s discuss my reward. I take many forms of gratitude.” Sebastian smirks. “Butterbeers. Doing my homework. Answers to next week’s test. I’m open to most ideas.” 

Ominis chuckles, “I’ll get you a whole keg of Butterbeer for what you’ve done.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Sebastian says. 

=================================

Ominis leans his head onto hers as they slowly stroll along the rickety, old, long bridge by the Clocktower Courtyard. She plays with his hand - intertwining their fingers together then releasing them to hold his hand, only to tangle them once again. 

“When do you expect to return?” He wonders.

“By this evening. I’ll try not to take too long.” She squeezes his hand. 

He hums, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

She smiles as they reach the end of the bridge and she turns to face him, “And I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.” 

He’s still captivated by the sight of what his wand paints of her. Like waves crashing to shore or a crackling inferno, magic rolls over her body in a steady hum. It’s electric and fiery - unbridled energy which sparks and ignites across her. He wonders if the pulsing is in time with her heartbeats as it thrums to a gentle beat. It’s breathtaking and he’s the only one who can see her like this - and he’s forever grateful his wand has adjusted to this new connection between them.

He cups her cheek with a soft smile, “I hope you don’t run into too much trouble, love. I do rather like you unharmed, and intact.”

She laughs, “Don’t fret. I promise to return just as I left.” 

He leans down and places a heated kiss on her awaiting lips, one which takes her breath away and leaves her wanting for more. It’s a brilliant supernova in her mind as he intertwines himself with her. She feels his lips on hers, but also her lips on his. For a brief moment, they are one. The sensation dies down as he parts, but his presence doesn’t fully leave her. She sees the strands of Ancient Magic tangled around him - glowing in a vibrant radiance as it stretches all the way to her. She wonders if he regrets it. This bond he’s been forced to share with her. He silences the thought before it can fully form with another deep kiss. 

“Do be careful.” He whispers against her lips with a sweet smile.

“I will.” She steps away from him before he can lure her back into his embrace. She summons her broom - sparing him one final, loving glance - then she takes off. 

He sucks in a sharp breath at her departure. If he concentrates, he can feel the wind in her hair and against her face. Whatever bond they had created in the confines of her mind, has not dimmed, but flourished. And as she flies further from him, he can find her like his guiding star. And he smiles - turning back to the castle to await her return.

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

AN: i like the idea of Ominis' mom being far different from his father and brother. Meaning, I want his mom to be a type of devouring mother where she manipulates you into believing she's only doing what's 'best' for you. idk, i can just see her being very sweet and doting in a twisted kind of way. like ripping out her son's eyeballs to 'help' him.

also, hope the magic bond and legilimency mind shit wasn't TOO weird. idk, i like the idea of magic bonds and Ominis' wand being able to detect her in his own special way. and ancient magic seems like a pure form of magic for this to be viable.

ALSO ALSO, is it Ominis' or Ominis's???? i might blow up my computer and then my local walmart on minecraft if it's the latter. I was told if a word ends in an s, then you don't add the 's. idk im not an english expert. im a dumb idiot writing mediocre fanfiction.

Any feedback is appreciated and wanted! I love hearing from y'all and thanks for reading <3

[mhsdatgo]

The Helaemonds/Helaegons need to calm down.

Don't get me wrong, it's always refreshing to see some people fill in the gaps of a basically untold relationship such as the one between the green kids in general, but this goes beyond basic obsessive shippy discourse. Leave this poor girl alone. Why's there an obsession with having her be romantically paired with her brothers, one worse than the other?

I understand the show has basically shown so little of her to the point where we didn’t even have a coronation for her on screen, so therefore you can self insert through her and have fun with headcanons regarding Aegon and Aemond. Really, I'm not faulting their girlies, you can be head over heels for whatever actor in character you want (unless you put them on pedestals and start acting like they did nothing wrong and pounce on whoever contests them, THEN we have a problem) but I assure you, Helaena would barely want anything to do with either of them.

Aegon is a sex pest turned sex offender, a drunkard and a neglectful father and husband at best. Her infamous toast in ep.8 has us believing that he cannot for the life of him interact with her unless he's horny drunk or that he forces himself on her at worst.* He was ready to leave them all in ep.9 before he was caught. Even the book is subtle about their relationship: all we know of them is that they sleep in shared chambers, that she was someone important and reliable in Aegon's council before B&C, and that he named her and Alicent the true Queens of his reign.

*(⚠️TW: PERSONAL OPINION⚠️ I'm not saying this last one isn't a possibility but it's sill outrageous for the way people speak about Helaena in defence of this "claim". No, she wouldn't joke about her own r*pe in front of the whole table full of people she doesn't know and right beside her abuser, and despite the hour-long metas I've read about how she's basically "too sheltered" to know what r*pe even means, I assure you she's a high-functioning autistic, not 5 years old. She can understand it perfectly.)

Helaemond is a pure show invention, I honestly wasn't expecting this many people to go up this kind of train. They barely interact, and most of the time it's Aemond saying he'd "perform his duty" should Helaena ever be wed to him, or that stare in ep.9 when he enters her chambers toiling after Alicent. It's, as always, the Aemond girlies who think poor Helaena would live her best life with Aemond, or that they are already romantically involved behind the scenes. The amount of "if one possesses a thing, the other will take it away" edits from people that are FULLY CONVINCED "the thing" is Helaena and that "the one" and "the other" are Aemond and Aegon respectively is honestly concerning.

Fics that are all about Aegon doing the worst and unspeakable things to her so "Aemond can come and save her" are y'all okay? Out of all people, HE has to save her?

Babes, I'm sorry to break your bubble, but this isn't Aegon IV/Naerys/Aemon on steroids. Aemond didn't give two shits about Helaena. No, he wasn't jealous when Jace came to ask her to dance, he just wanted to stir some shit. If we talk about the books, he didn't fucking hesitate to leave King's Landing, his sister, his mother and whatever he was doing for the Riverlands the second he heard that Daemon was there. And he brought the only means of defence they had with him. If he knew how important Vhagar was for the city's defence, he's evil, if he didn't realize it, he's dumb as fuck. Which one is it, Aemond girlies?

People beat each other to the curb about Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Maelor's paternity like it's the Wars of The Roses. They put Helaena and Alys against the other like they have personal beef with one of them.

Stop mentioning this sweetheart only when it's about praising or hating one of her brothers. No, it's not the only option you have because she's underdeveloped as a character. There's actually another one.

LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE.

[skylie-spiderlillis]

Unfortunately I will not be able to finish the payneland fic I wanted on time to publish it on my birthday, however I will publish a snippet for now!

It's a fencing fic, because I'm a fencer Edwin truther, and the boys 100% fence as a game between them so my fic is based about that. Edwin tries to suggest fencing to talk about things and resolve the awkwardness that started between them after the love confession. It's not very long after Port Townsend.

I'm going to try to continue working on it to finish it on time but I'm at a bar on the beach that has loud distracting music to celebrate my birthday, I can't make any promises. However I will publish it tomorrow. Here is the snippet for now!

Charles was sitting on the desk, his legs on the chair, staring vacantly out of a window for the past few hours.

Edwin, who was reading a book on the sofa, eventually had enough of this new awkward distance between them and snapped, deciding he was going to do something about it, shake Charles out of it in any way he could.

.......

He tossed Charles his foil- a golden one with a left handed handle. Edwin’s foil was silver, matching Charles’ set. “Pick it up, we are going to fence.” He declared.

“What?” Charles looks up, shaking off from his thoughts and turned to his best friend, blinking surprised.

“I said, pick it up, we are going to fence. Frankly, I've had enough of your distant behaviour recently and I cannot let it pass any second longer. You cannot fool me, Charles Rowland, I know you, and after Port Townsend you have never made the return quite to your senses yet. So we are going to fence, and we are going to talk, in the way we do things. Because clearly something has gone wrong with you recently you refuse to let me in about.”

“Mate, there is nothing wro-” Charles started making himself force out a laugh in defence, but Edwin cut him.

“I have simply confessed to being in love, Charles, I have not been turned into a fool in all that regards you. I have known you for over 30 years, Charles Rowland, and I can tell when things are wrong. Yet you don’t come to me, although you are clearly bothered by me. Sometimes, I have to wonder if you still consider us best friends after all-” his voice break, trailing off.

“What? Mate, of course you are-” Charles rushed to defend against Edwin's words.

“Then talk with me, Charles. Fence with me, like we used to. Because I miss having my best friend around, and I don’t know what to think of you recently. Talk to me, please.” Edwin moves Charles’ foil on the desk closer to him, offering it to him again.

Charles took a few moments of thinking in silence before he responded again. They could fence, he supposes, he did miss them too, but- “Look, Edwin, mate, I don’t want to fight you- You are still pretty banged up from Esther’s house.” Not a lie, they both still had some traces of their iron burns. Esther’s house was still relatively fresh- they tried to bury it but the events of Port Townsend only took place twelve days ago.

Unfortunately, iron burns take an annoying amount of time to heal. Although not as bad now, slight traces of their burns still left.

They have been taking cases slower because of it, working on easy ones to start. Both of them acting more out of concern for the other than actually to themselves.

“Oh, you assume you would be able to get close to me?” Edwin teased arching his brow and Charles bit his lips, cheeks flushing slightly. Bollocks. Okay, his self confidence was hot-

Seeing him announcing it cockily and sure of himself like that ignited a fond and playful spark in Charles- he liked his overconfidence.

“I assure you, even in my lesser state I can still, as I believe they say today, ‘kick your ass’. You, on the other hand, have been shutting off from me for weeks, and I simply will not sit here and allow our friendship to continue suffering any longer. So please, fence with me again. Challenge me, if you will.”

“Edwin-” Charles gruntle sighing pretending to be rolling his eyes in decline, then he quickly picks up his foil going out to a surprise attack, a spark of mischief igniting back in him.

Adrenaline was flooding his ghost veins, in a good way-

He loved this. This was them. It just felt right.

Edit: fic posted! It's the most recent post below the pinned one on my blog!

[palmettoshenanigans]

Trust me when I say I am trying SO HARD to not write an AFTG fic; I am BUSY, I am ALREADY writing a mammoth fic for something else, I am trying to not be CONSUMMED, I cannot write an AFTG fic.

And yet I keep having ideas. So, to save myself from the Cursed Brain Worms, I'm giving away this frantically written fic snippet I wrote for someone else to write (and hopefully post so I can read it instead of write it)

Here, someone adopt this orphan, I'm not ready to be a writer parent

The foxes are somewhere for a game and Kevin notices Neil. He panics because he thinks Neil is there for him under the jurisdiction of Riko. Neil was at Edgar Allen for a while but he left when Nathaniel picked him up for reasons Kevin doesn't get to learn. Riko told him Neil was to become the next Butcher and work for him. Kevin believed him.

The foxes are having a face off with Riko and Co, when Neil walks up and tells Riko to be quiet. Riko opens his mouth to retort but when Neil only raises an eyebrow he shuts up.

“In fact, I think you should go home Riko.”

Riko says something but Neil says, “I thought I said be quiet?”

Kevin speaks rapid fire French to Neil, Jean joining in, about how it’ll turn out bad if Neil makes Riko mad by embarrassing him like this. Riko says, “It’s rude to speak a language only you understand.”

Neil looks at him and says, in German, “Then I’ll look directly into your eyes and speak a completely different language, knowing you will never understand what I’m saying. I wonder if I talk for long enough and sound like I’m making a thinly veiled threat if I’ll be able to see your face twitch- ah, yeah. Like that. You’re so easily rankled Riko, it’s pathetic.” Andrew snorts and Neil turns to him with a raised eyebrow, which Andrew meets head on. Andrew then responds in German, “xxx”.

Riko makes a threat and Neil examines him. Neil then says to Andrew (in English), “Andrew Minyard, yes?” Andrew just looks at him. “Is it true you carry knives on you at all times?” Andrew nods. “May I borrow one for just a moment? I promise to bring it back.”

Riko says Kengo would never allow this. Neil pauses. “Call him.”

“What?”

“Call him and ask if he’ll be angry if I cut you.”

Riko pauses.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “No? Fine, I’ll do it then.” and he proceeds to pull out a phone and call Kengo on speaker phone, asking in Japanese, “Would you be angry at me for cutting up the second son?” Kengo gives no shits, and Neils grins at Riko as he says bye and hangs up. In english he says, “Well, you heard him.”

Andrew gives Neil a knife and Neil, tip of the knife tucked under Riko’s chin to guide him like a leash, leads him away, but not before sending a wink Andrews way saying, “Thanks for the loan”. Riko and Jean return, both looking pale, Neil gone with the wind. Jean gives Andrew his knife back, relaying a message from Neil about his "good taste in knives".

Seth dies because Riko asks Kevin where Neil is and the foxes don’t know.

The talk show happens, and Kevin says they’re inviting a former Raven to the foxes, pretending that he’s inviting Neil.

After the show, the foxes wonder how the fuck they’re going to get into contact with Neil, with Jean saying “No one contacts Neil! No one finds Neil! He contacts you! He finds you!” Jean then reveals that Neil only answers to the Main Branch after having killed his own dad.

The foxes are at their home stadium discussing their current conundrum when Neil breaks in asking Kevin what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Everyone tries to convince him to stay.

“What do you want?” They ask him.

“Nothing.” He says.

Allison brings up Seth.

Neil argues, “I didn’t kill Seth. Riko did that. Trust me. I know when I’ve killed someone.”

“Stay for one year,” Andrew says.

“Why?”

“You owe me.”

“Do I?”

Andrew nods. “You promised to bring me back my knife. You didn’t. Jean did. I’ll forgive you for lying if you stay for a year.”

Neil pauses. Then he laughs hysterically. Then he agrees.

(later on, Neil does a job for Ichiro in return for him getting Andrew off his meds. it's revealed that Neil works for Ichiro specifically, not technically the entire main branch)

[tevanbegins]

~So my ultra-futuristic, utopian endgame vision for Tevan led to this fic (This is officially the second fic I wrote, but the first one I am posting anywhere.) Hope you enjoy, please comment and RB if you like!~

Math Troubles

Summary: On his day off, Buck steps in to help out his and Tommy's teenage daughter with her math assignment, while Tommy is out on duty. Unfortunately, Buck turns out to be more trouble than help, and Tommy has to intervene over the phone.

----

"Dad," Spencer sighed in utter exasperation. "I think your help is taking me longer to do my math homework than if I were to do it on my own!"

"But sweetheart, it's taking longer because you aren't following the exact steps I'm showing you," Buck said adamantly, refusing to admit defeat. The father-daughter pair was sitting on the bed in Spencer's room, with the thirteen-year-old's books and stationery items scattered all around them.

"No. I'm calling Papa right now. Only he can save me from this--- this situation," insisted Spencer. She promptly video-called Tommy despite Buck's protests, desperately hoping he would answer. Meanwhile, Buck ruffled the pages of her Geometry textbook in search of some solid proof to back up his argument. Luckily for Spencer, Tommy's warm and scrunchy smile beamed through her phone's screen in a few seconds. "Hey Spence, my love. What's up?" he asked her.

"When are you going to be home, Papa? I need your help with my math homework, especially with this geometry assignment," Spencer replied, a pleading expression on her face.

"Sorry darling. My shift is on for another six hours at least, so I won't be home until later in the evening. I thought Dad was going to help you out since he is off-duty today?" Tommy enquired with a raised eyebrow.

"There. Thank you, Tommy!" Buck interrupted the conversation, rotating the phone in Spencer's hand horizontally so that Tommy could see them both. "That is exactly what I am doing, but our stubborn daughter refuses to solve the math problems per my methods. She says only you can save her from this situation, because apparently I can't. How humiliating is that!" Buck complained.

"I understand, Evan," Tommy gave Buck a mock-apologetic cluck, trying hard to stifle his laugh. He was well aware that math proficiency was his husband's biggest weak point-turned-self-esteem issue.

"C'mon Dad, you're just over-reacting," Spencer rolled her eyes at Buck. "I love you, but you need to accept that you are terrible at math!" she tried to soothe the burn with an extra sweet smile.

Tommy burst out laughing at Spencer's remark, but immediately pursed his lips when Buck shot him an angry look through the screen.

"No, I'm not!" Buck retorted, turning his attention away from the phone towards their daughter. "Spence. I agree I wasn't always the greatest at the subject, but haven't I told you the story of how I became a mathematical genius after getting struck by lightning?"

"Yes Dad, you have, about a million times. I know that legend by heart, but the genius part is hard to believe when you keep asking me to use the Pythagoras theorem on an oblique triangle!" Spencer justified her stance.

"Well, you won't even try using it before shooting me down like that!" Buck groaned. At that, Tommy felt an instant need to intervene before this Buckley-Kinard family conversation took a more hilarious turn, else his coworkers at the station would think he was going crazy from how hard he was laughing.

"Evan, my sweet, sweet husband," Tommy let out a deep sigh, still unable to get over how adorable, dorky, stubborn, and unintentionally funny Buck could be even after fifteen years of marriage. "You cannot use the Pythagoras theorem on an oblique triangle. It is simply not possible. You know why? Because it doesn't have any damn right angle in it!" he tried to reason.

"What now? The theorem doesn't apply to non-right angled triangles?" Buck gasped in shock.

"You see? Papa knows!" Spencer gave Tommy a thumbs up and a wide victory grin. "That's why I said only he can save me in this situation!" she said, looking at Buck. "Because your knowledge of basic geometric concepts itself seems questionable to me, sorry not sorry, Dad!"

"So you think your Papa is better than me at math? In spite of my lightning-induced mathematical super-abilities? Well, he can't be any better at math than I am!" Buck declared obstinately.

"Hey! Now that's a controversial thing to say. I'm a formally-licensed pilot — it's literally a prerequisite for my job to have good math skills!" Tommy cut in. "Have you maybe considered that your lightning thing was a limited-period offer from the Gods? I mean, poor Pythagoras must be rolling in his grave right now because of you, Evan," Tommy sniggered.

"What a snob!" Buck cried, looking flushed with embarrassment. "Remember, you won't be able to hide behind the phone screen when you face me at home tonight, Tommy!" he added in a stern voice, and then dramatically moved out of the view of the front camera lens.

"Spence darling, what trouble have you got me into with your Dad? I'm going to have to stop at a florist's shop on the way back home now," Tommy exclaimed, shaking his head.

"Tell him that only flowers is not going to cut it. He needs to get a big box of chocolates too, or else he won't be allowed into the house tonight," Buck nudged Spencer to convey the message, but Tommy had heard it loud and clear.

"Yes Evan. Flowers and chocolates it is!" Tommy responded, hiding a chuckle. "Well, I am going to hang up now. Before I can say anything more to piss him off," Tommy whispered to Spencer and winked. "Bye darling, see you later!"

"B-bye Papa, love you!" Spencer blew Tommy a kiss and then put her phone away after the call ended. Looking at Buck's expression, she snorted and got into a wild fit of laughter, so much that her belly hurt. And despite his pseudo-attempts at pretending to be upset over this roast session of his math skills, Buck burst out laughing too, alongside his daughter.

Good at math or not, Spencer knew she had the sweetest, funniest, and the most loving dads in the whole wide world, and she was the luckiest girl ever to have them both.

------

[mi-rae07]

Song Mingi : Blood And Bones

Pairing : Song Mingi (Ateez) and named character (Jung Miyeon)

__________________

Synopsis : Miyeon is an underground boxer, her life revolves around blood and violence while Mingi is the CEO of a tech company, his life revolves around diploma and professionalism.

They're in a relationship, and has been for a year but mingi still cannot get used to seeing miyeon beat people up to the point where they have to be taken to the hospital and miyeon seems to give more importance to WWE matches than their dates. Will Mingi finally have enough?

____________________

A/n : Just a small light-hearted fic after the last one because I supposed I needed it.

_____________________

Miyeon : you think you're any better than me you wench?

That was the last thing miyeon said before punching her opponent right in the face, making her fall to the arena floor as she coughed up blood. The crowd around screamed, making miyeon smirk in victory as the referee counted

??? : ONE! TWO! THREE AND WE HAVE A WINNER!

The referee raised miyeon's arm as the crowd clapped and screamed for her, making her feel good all over again. This was all she wanted, the feeling of winning the screams of her crowd. This, made the pain all worth it.

Miyeon smirked and looked towards the front row as she noticed her boyfriend just staring at her, his eyes unreadable. He got up as he noticed her stare and just walked out, making miyeon sigh. She was going to have to go out after him.

Soon the congratulations and pats in the back were all over as miyeon rushed out of the hall without bothering to even grab her trophy, finding her boyfriend more important.

Miyeon : mingi!

Miyeon rushed up to mingi who was leaning against the stone wall right outside the hall, his breathing heavy as miyeon said excitedly

Miyeon : did you see my win! Wasn't it-

Mingi : I did see your win, miyeon, and I also saw your opponent being taken to the hospital in a stretcher, bruised and bloodied. Something you caused.

Miyeon rolled her eyes at his words as she said

Miyeon : this is underground boxing, mingi. I have to cause that to her to win, and I have to win to earn money.

Mingi : don't I already make enough money for us?

Miyeon stared at mingi's Aston Martin that was parked a few feet away from them, her rusty old Swift next to it a complete contrast.

Miyeon : money for you, yes. For us, well we don’t know how long that will last. You can leave the next second and I'll be left with nothing. I've told you before, mingi, that I will not make the mistake of sacrificing my career for a man, even you.

Mingi : career? You're a business graduate, miyeon, you had so many other job options and you chose this. This…pathetic game of violence that always ends in blood.

Miyeon : are you questioning my career choices right now, song mingi?

Mingi paused as miyeon scoffed in anger and said

Miyeon : my life is mine to choose, mingi, you are just a part of it and not the whole life. I can live without you as well so do not overstep your boundaries.

Mingi : miyeon I just-

Miyeon : no you keep doing this, don't you? Do I come into your company and ask you to quit it to go work as a boxer? Disrespect the work that you do for a living? No. So you don't get to do that with me either.

Mingi : I just don't want you hurt-

Miyeon : aww, how cute of you. Mingi you met me when I was a boxer, you fell in love with me despite all the blood and broken bones. And now you're trying to change me?

Mingi : I was just…I was just scared. It won't happen again.

Miyeon chuckled, rolling her eyes as she said

Miyeon : that's the 5th time you're saying that mingi. If you can't handle me, then leave and find some girl that runs a fucking florist shop.

Miyeon turned and was about to walk towards the hall again when mingi held her arm, turning her around before saying

Mingi : I'm sorry, I promise it won't happen again.

Miyeon stared at mingi, not really believing him. He let out a breath as he leaned forward, holding her blood smeared cheek before kissing it. He could taste the blood on his lips, but the love he had for her measured far more than his dislike for blood.

Mingi : I love you, I just didn't want to see you hurt that's all. I won't try and change you, miyeon, your life is yours.

Miyeon leaned forward and kissed mingi, pushing him into a secluded corner wall before kissing him harder. Mingi groaned as he tangled his hand in miyeon's hair, tugging it as she pulled back and stared at him with hazy eyes before saying

Miyeon : be glad you have a pretty face too good to be ruined.

Mingi smiled as miyeon ran her thumb along his lips with a smirk before whispering

Miyeon : or I would've let you go a long time ago for so much as talking against me.

_______________________________

A week later :

Mingi : um miyeon?

Miyeon hummed, leaning back against the sofa as her eyes were still trained on the WWE boxing match playing on TV. She had been at this for hours now and mingi now wondered whether she'd forgotten about the date they had in the evening. Mingi had kept himself from reminding her thinking it would anger her if he interfered in between. But there was only 15 minutes left to leave and miyeon was still eating chips on the couch.

Mingi : we…we have a date.

Miyeon : mm, when?

Mingi blinked his eyes as miyeon still kept her focus on the match

Mingi : within 15 minutes?

Miyeon paused, now turning to face mingi as she asked

Miyeon : wait, 15…oh shit!

Mingi's heart dropped at the genuine surprise on miyeon's face as he said in a low voice

Mingi : you forgot about it.

Miyeon : oh, min I'm so sorry I just-

Mingi : no it's fine, forget about it.

Mingi took off his suit jacket before throwing it into the laundry, walking towards their room without a word. Miyeon sighed as she got up from the sofa, picking up the suit jacket before rushing behind mingi

Miyeon : mingi-ah, I'll get ready right now.

Mingi : don't bother, I'm cancelling.

Miyeon let out a breath as she followed behind mingi into their room before saying in a hurried voice

Miyeon : I was just too focused on the match it slipped my mind-

Mingi : oh yeah, just like how everything about me just 'slips your mind'.

Miyeon let out an exasperated breath as mingi sat back on their bed, untying his shoelaces as he said

Mingi : have you ever had me forget a date, miyeon? A birthday? An anniversary?

Miyeon sighed as she kneeled on the floor next to mingi before trying to hold mingi's hand. He shook his head, taking his hand away. Miyeon held it again, shaking her head as she said

Miyeon : look at me.

Mingi : I don't want to.

Miyeon knew how mingi was when he was about to cry, and this was it. She held his cheek before turning him to face her as she said

Miyeon : min, I'm so sorry. I'll get ready real quick and we can go out okay? I'll even pay for the entire date to make up for it, hmm?

Miyeon knew mingi would've picked a high end restaurant for dinner and her budget definitely wouldn't cover it. But even if she had to take a loan out she was going to pay for it.

Mingi : no it's okay, you can go back to your match.

Mingi's voice wavered in the end as he pressed his lips together, looking away. Miyeon's eyes softened as she leaned forward and kissed mingi before pulling back and said

Miyeon : baby, please. I know I made a mistake and I'm sorry for it, aren't I? I'll make up for it and it won't happen again, I promise.

A tear fell down mingi's eyes as he said

Mingi : but I feel so small in your life, miyeon.

Miyeon stared at mingi as his face contorted into that of pain as he said shakily

Mingi : I know I'm only a part of your life but am I really such a small part? You give more importance to a match than me, miyeon. I just…I just want some attention-

Mingi cut himself off with a sob as miyeon hugged him, nuzzling her face into his neck before saying

Miyeon : you are a big part of my life mingi, I promise. I make as much money as I can for you, so I can buy you the things you buy for me. I want a future with you, a family some day even. I swear it's not like I don't love you, I do. I know I'm not doing a good job showing it but I'll get better, hmm?

Mingi stared at miyeon as she pulled back and wiped his tears away with the pad of her thumbs, kissing both his eyes as she whispered

Miyeon : I'll get better. Won't you forgive me, baby?

Mingi sniffled, nodding as he said

Mingi : okay, but only if you promise me ice-cream for the next week.

Miyeon chuckled with teary eyes, kissing mingi's cheek as she said

Miyeon : anything for my baby boy. Now, I'll go get ready!

Miyeon rushed towards her closet as she said loudly

Miyeon : and wear that suit, you look very sexy in it.

Mingi chuckled as miyeon skipped into the closet to change excitedly. He put the suit on as he sighed and whispered

Mingi : still won't match up to your muscles.

_________________________________

[imgeekgirlfan]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : X]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings :  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : At the Jedi Temple, everyone confronted a shocking truth about themselves, whether it was Sol, Yord, or yourself.

Status: just finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : I'm not spoiling anything, but two things: First, Qimir's out of the picture for a bit after this, while the story shifts to the Jedi Temple, where you'll learn more about his and the reader's backstories. Second, there's a super important character here you won't want to miss.

Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

[Episodes 10] Hand of God be my witness; I am the voice from the outer world

They won't believe me.

The thought crosses your mind as you survey the interrogation room in the Jedi Temple on Olega. The room is nearly barren, with bare gray concrete walls and no windows, furnished only with a table and two chairs on opposite sides. You choose the inner seat, facing the door, patiently awaiting the arrival of another.

It isn't long before the steel door slides open, revealing the tall, gaunt figure of a middle-aged man dressed in a yellow Jedi uniform. Sol’s expression is grave as he takes the chair opposite you. Without preamble, he begins to speak. “I apologize for keeping you waiting. The things you’ve told us are... quite shocking.” He pauses briefly, then continues with a polite tone, “It will take time to verify the truth of all this, and we may not reach a conclusion soon.”

You reflect on everything you've revealed to them earlier. You told them all they needed to know—that Qimir was behind the Jedi slaughter on this planet and that he was a Sith Lord disguised as a harmless apothecary, hiding right under their noses for years.

To the Jedi, however, your account is just hearsay. After all, everything you said came from your visions, lacking tangible evidence to prove your story—no proof that what you saw was real and not some fevered delusion.

You know your fate hangs by a thread. There’s a strong chance the Jedi will deem you delusional and might even cast you out of the Temple. That is a risk you cannot afford to take, especially when Qimir knows you have escaped and is relentlessly pursuing you. Nowhere in the galaxy will be safe for you except under the protection of the Jedi Order. It's your only hope for survival.

“You don’t believe me either, do you?” You decide to test the waters, assessing Sol's demeanor behind his neutral exterior.

Sol clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable as he speaks. “I can't say I believe everything you've said, but I don't think you have a reason to lie, given that you admitted this man was your lover.” His gaze meets yours with sincerity. “But some parts don’t make sense...”

“It doesn’t make sense because you believe the Sith have long since vanished," you interject, interrupting him before he can finish. "But I'm telling the truth. I've told you everything. Qimir is a Sith Lord. His goal is the destruction of the Jedi Order, and he won't stop until he achieves it.”

Sol sighs. He remains skeptical of your words and seems caught between belief and doubt, but can’t help feeling concerned, aware that this issue is far too serious to ignore. The implications of your claims could threaten not just the Jedi Order but the stability of the entire galaxy. It is beyond the capacity of a single Jedi Master to decide alone. “The problem is we have no evidence to confirm the Sith still exist,” Sol says cautiously, his tone now even more guarded. “And the way in which these Jedi were killed doesn’t align with typical Sith methods.”

"But it aligns with Jedi methods," you murmur, though Sol hears every word clearly. "He kills Jedi in the Jedi way. That's why you initially suspected the culprit might be one of your own, or perhaps a former Jedi."

Sol's eyes widen in shock, staring at you as if your words are the most startling thing he has ever heard. "How do you know all of this?" he asks urgently, his voice laced with confusion. He clearly remembers that none of these details were shared with you. So where did you get this information?

You offer him a faint, mysterious smile, one that makes Sol feel unsettled in ways he cannot fully explain.

"I know what you know. And I know what you don’t," you say, your blue eyes momentarily distant and lost in thought. "Your suspicions aren’t wrong. Qimir isn’t his real name, and he was once a Padawan among you. As for the rest... you’ll have to find the answers from your own people—someone who knows him far better than I do."

Sol is taken aback, concern reflected on his face. For the first time, the words of this stranger evoke a pang of fear within him. "Who are you talking about? Who among us knows the Sith Lord?"

"Your friend, Master Vernestra."

Sol furrows his brow, thinking of the Mirialan Jedi Master, who is indeed his friend. At this point, Sol's doubts multiply as he struggles to find answers for himself. How does she know about Vernestra when they've never even met? he wonders.

Sol turns his gaze back to you, his eyes now filled with analysis and wariness. He's no longer sure how to feel about you—whether to be amazed or afraid.

"Who are you really?" he finally asks.

In truth, the more appropriate question would have been, “What are you?”

You sense the confusion and doubt etched on his face, making you start to wonder as well. "You really don't know who I am?" you ask, almost to yourself.

Sol shakes his head, not pausing to consider his response. "I don't know you, and I’m sure no one else here does either."

How is that even possible? You wonder; the memory is still vivid. When Qimir first captured you, he warned that the Jedi were after you too. You were certain their intentions were the same as everyone else's—to claim the power of the last Bene Gesserit for themselves. That's why you always avoided the Jedi. But when things changed between you and Qimir, you had no choice but to reluctantly seek refuge with the Jedi, knowing it was your best chance to evade Qimir.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that your secret would be exposed here, which is why you dared to use your visions in front of Sol. Even though you hadn’t said you were a Bene Gesserit, you knew that the Jedi, who already held an interest in the Bene Gesserit, could easily piece the truth together on their own.

Yet, Sol’s response is not what you expected.

Confusion swirls within you as you meet Sol’s gaze. You desperately want to peer into his thoughts to understand what he’s truly thinking, but you can’t do that. Despite having prophetic powers, you lack the ability to read minds like a Force user. This limitation makes predicting the future so difficult—human thoughts are ever-changing, and so too is destiny.

However, Bene Gesserit training provides a solution to this weakness through a technique known as the 'Way of Perception.' This method focuses on observing every minute detail in your conversation partner’s movements—like the slightest twitch of a facial muscle, a shift in the eyes, or a swallow—each subtle gesture that reveals their true intentions. By employing this meticulous observation, a Bene Gesserit can analyze another’s thoughts, discerning truth from deception without relying on the Force.

You use the Way of Perception on Sol, meticulously observing his reactions and analyzing them as you have been trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. What you discover is that he’s telling the truth. Sol and the others here neither know of nor acknowledge the existence of someone like you—a Bene Gesserit.

In that moment, a realization hits you with blinding clarity—a truth you have never considered until now: Qimir has been lying to you all along.

You remember when he first approached you out of sheer curiosity, manipulating your fear of the Jedi to keep you from running. He worked to earn your trust, all in a bid to uncover your secrets. When Qimir finally learned that secret, he realized you were too valuable to fall into anyone else’s hands. So, he killed everyone who knew about you, all to keep your power under his control.

And what better way to control someone than through love?

That’s exactly what he did to you. Qimir tried to make you fall in love with him, to surrender yourself completely—body and soul—to serve his grander purpose. His ultimate plan was to resurrect the Sith and exact revenge on the Jedi. With the aid of a Bene Gesserit, he believed he could conquer the universe.

But what throws everything off course is that Qimir, instead of merely seeing you as a tool to achieve his goals, has become genuinely attached and has fallen in love with you. 

Then, when you decided to drink the Water of Life, you allowed yourself to foresee the terrible future that unfolded, with countless possibilities and impossibilities stretching out before you.

You know that Qimir's plans will never succeed. Sooner or later, he will meet his end before reaching his goal. Even so, your bloodline and his will succeed nonetheless. Anakin Skywalker will become everything Qimir has ever aspired to be—the one to lead the Sith to greatness, the one who brings the Jedi to their ultimate demise. 

And so it goes, you think to yourself. You expected to feel more sorrow, yet you find your thoughts and heart curiously cold.

As days pass, you lose more and more of yourself. It’s as if you’re no longer human but merely a data system, recording and processing the flow of events in your mind. Fate itself has become nothing more than a set of data inputs into a system, repeating endlessly until it loses all meaning.

You resign yourself, allowing your mind to swim once more in the currents of temporal data, hoping you can still alter those paths, even if only slightly.

And you decide to start with Sol.

"I know what you did on Brendok ten years ago, Master Sol."

Your voice comes out deeper and raspier than usual, almost resembling a man's voice rather than your own.

Those words hit Sol like thunderbolts. You instantly read his reaction, analyzing every movement. The tensing of his shoulders betrays the fear he's trying to suppress. Sweat beads on his temple, indicating pressure and dread. His lips tremble, momentarily rendering him speechless.

It’s a secret Sol has kept hidden from everyone. In the past, when he was still a Jedi Knight, Sol was part of a team assigned to explore Brendok after the planet endured a devastating natural disaster. There, he encountered twin girls named Osha and Mae—children born of the Force, raised by a coven of witches, a group of women attempting to mimic the ways of the Bene Gesserit, who had been hiding on this planet for quite some time.

The twins' strong connection to the Force sparked Sol’s hope that they could undergo training to become Jedi Padawans. However, the witch coven opposed him fiercely. Osha and Mae were the future of their coven; they wanted the girls to inherit the witches' path. They didn't want the Jedi to take their children away, as had happened to other families across the galaxy before.

Tensions between the witches and the Jedi finally reached a breaking point when Sol accidentally killed Aniseya, the twins' mother and the leader of the witch coven. This triggered a violent battle, resulting in the deaths of the entire coven, including the twins, who were trapped in a burning building during the fight.

That calamity has haunted Sol ever since, a nightmare and stigma he has carried to this day.

The entire story was covered up by the surviving Jedi, as this grave mistake could have led to their permanent expulsion from the Order. There's no way an outsider like you could know this secret, which is precisely why you bring it up. You understand that this is the only way to prove the truth of your words and make Sol fully believe what you’re about to reveal to him.

You lock eyes with Sol, unwavering, before unveiling your truth.

"I possess foresight. I can perceive all secrets and discern the fates of every life. That is why you must trust me."

What’s happening to Master Sol?

Yord ponders, watching as the once-calm Jedi Master suddenly storms out of the interrogation room, his face pale as if he has just seen something profoundly terrifying.

For a moment, Yord hesitates. He considers asking what happened but ultimately decides to stay silent. He remains where he is, observing from afar as Sol approaches. Yord notices that Sol seems entirely unaware of his presence, lost in his own thoughts and drifting past him as if he isn’t even there.

Yord's gaze follows the Jedi Master until he disappears down the hall. A frown forms on Yord’s face before he turns his attention to the steel door of the interrogation room where Sol had just exited.

Suddenly, Yord feels it—a deep, undeniable sense of certainty, as certain as knowing the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. He knows what's inside that room. He knows exactly what made Master Sol so shaken. He knows who is in there.

Yord bites his lip, torn between the urge to open that door and simply walk away. But curiosity wins over; he takes a step forward, tension rippling through his body. Cautiously, he pushes the door open and steps inside.

There you are, seated on a chair, with only a metal table separating you from him. You greet him with a faint smile, your demeanor calm, showing no surprise, as if you’ve been waiting for him all along, or perhaps you already knew he would come.

“It’s good to see you again, Yord.”

Hearing his name makes Yord freeze. It’s not just the fact that you know his name, even though he’s never told you, but the way you say it—your words and tone are exactly as they were in his dream last night.

There’s something eerily familiar about you, something Yord can’t quite shake off. It’s as if you and he share a connection that runs far deeper than the mere acquaintance, although he still doesn't know who you really are.

For the first time, Yord begins to suspect that he’s caught up in a mysterious and complex pattern beyond his understanding—something his mind can barely comprehend. 

And he knows. The only person who can explain it all is you.

Yord takes a deep breath and moves to sit in the chair across from you, his hands clenching nervously in his lap. “This might sound strange, but... I dreamt about you before we even met,” he says, the words spilling out before he can stop them. “I saw your life. I glimpsed what has happened and what will happen to you. How is that possible? Why do I feel like I've known you all my life when we've just met?”

“Dreams are messages from the deep,” you reply. “They’re a form of prophecy, a sign of the gift we both share. But your family's lineage has abandoned the old ways, which is why your power is weaker than mine.”

Yord senses a hint of sympathy in your voice. Though you speak of it as a gift, he can tell you view it more as a burden—an inescapable curse.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching for answers, but when your piercing blue gaze meets his, it feels like you’re the one reading him instead. In that instant, he’s certain that those eyes can see straight into the depths of his soul.

"You mentioned my family... Do you already know who I am?" he asks. 

"I do," you nod. "Our ancestors are connected."

With each word you speak, Yord’s confusion only deepens. "How do you know all of this? Did you see it in a vision?"

"I didn’t see it; I was there," you correct him. "I stood at the mouth of the cave the day my sister was born. I held her in my arms. That child grew into a woman, and eventually she loved and secretly gave birth to a daughter before she died. Your bloodline began with her."

"How is that even possible?" he argues, his voice growing tense. "How could you have been there thousands of years ago?"

"I’m not telling you this to make you believe. I’m simply informing you." You give Yord a gentle smile, a fond smile like an elder gives to a child. "If we’re counting, you are as much my descendant as she is."

Yord raises an eyebrow in surprise. He just notices that your choice of pronouns has suddenly shifted. Instead of using ‘I’ to refer to yourself, you now use ‘she’ as if you’re speaking about someone else.

And then it hits him. Yord suddenly realizes that the woman in front of him is no longer herself. Her spirit is tainted, like clear water muddied with black ink. Something is possessing her—something he both fears and cannot comprehend, like an ancient mystery sealed away for eons, only now unraveling.

“Who the hell are you?!” Yord shouts, one hand instinctively reaching for the lightsaber at his side, ready to strike if the person in front of him makes any sudden moves.

But you remain calm, unshaken by the threat of violence. "You know exactly who I am," you reply evenly. "Think carefully. Your mother warned you about my coming. You’ve always known who I am, just as I’ve always known who you are."

Your words send a shiver down Yord’s spine. His throat tightens, and he finds himself unable to speak. 

He remembers clearly what his mother warned him about before she passed away. Her wrinkled hand gripped his tightly as she whispered the important secret of the universe that no one knew except him—the return of that person.

All his life, Yord had dismissed those words as nothing more than the ramblings of a dying woman—just imagination and meaningless superstition. But today, when he faced you himself, he finally realizes that it was all true.

As the truth crashes down on him, Yord unknowingly utters the words.

“Lisan Al-Gaib.”

A/N :

Yord when he know who you are

[utilitycaster]

(Long ask warning)

Hello! I'm jumping on the appreciation train to say thank you so much for all of your meta and analysis! I just found your blog today, and you've already given me so much clarity and context for things I've been noticing in the CR fandom lately.

I quite literally spent my summer living under a rock (in the woods leading spelunking for scouts!) and so was completely out of the loop from early June through September. And while I am not yet caught up (I'm about to start ep. 65), I have been going through the tags and ao3, because I primarily engage with fandom through fic and I don't care about spoilers. And I can't help but notice that everything being written for c3 lately is just... monochromatic. The Hells have such interesting characters and premises. One would think they're ripe for creative and interesting fic. And yet even what little gen fic that I have seen since returning to civilization has largely been boiled down to reiterative mush with vaguely shippy overtones. I can totally see this being indicative of the cresting and waning of the Imodna and Callowmore shipping you've been discussing.

I've gotta ask though, is it really just shipping that is causing this problem? Or is there something else in the source material that you think could be affecting fic in particular?

This is the first time I've been in a fandom with ongoing source material in over a decade. I'm used to watching people beat dead horses in their own little corner, safe in the knowledge that I can block them and it isn't going to affect my experience in the slightest. I guess I'm just having a hard time believing/remembering that shipping can be this incidious.

So a couple of things: first, I was not heavily involved in fandom until Critical Role; I have a decent amount of background knowledge from being on Tumblr and because I do tend to look into/research this kind of thing because it's very interesting to me, but you will probably have better snapshot of what fandom looked like 10 years ago than I do. Second, fanfic has always been a tiny aspect of what I've engaged with and I do find the bulk of it to be dull and samey (which is why it is a tiny aspect), so again, you probably are a better judge of the quality of fanfic elsewhere.

With that said, as part of a much larger discussion of which I only have as mentioned pieces of the puzzle, I do think there's been a shift over the past decade or so of like...people expecting the source material to reflect fanfic-y desires, and resenting it when it does not; people not seeing the point in enjoying non-canon ships; and a broader theme of self-infantilization. This has to a small extent spilled over into published fiction, though thankfully there's plenty that isn't that. It's not just shipping (though that absolutely can be insidious to the point that people have been harassed and doxxed over it); I think it's a general taste for pablum that has been growing within fandom spaces.

I'll link a few posts I've made and a source that, while I cannot vouch for it per se I did read and found enlightening at the end but I think a really indicative example as of late was the fandom response to the show Good Omens (spoilers for Good Omens S2 in the next link if you are by any chance avoiding those). Obviously do not do anything obnoxious to the person who wrote this question, but there are a worrying number of people in fandom spaces who believe this unironically and uncritically: fiction exists to "save us from hurtful reality." And I do understand that the tumultuous politics and world events of the past decade are probably a factor; but I mean, have you looked at literature from the first half of the 20th century (or like. the second half, for that matter)? It is, in my opinion, only going to help put our modern world and issues in better context and honestly make you feel better in the long run if you read, say, The Great Gatsby or The Things They Carried instead of burying your head in lower case song lyrics ... (hurt/comfort, fix-it, happy ending, 6k) and like, to be clear, I have written a small portion of lower case song lyric-titled fics myself but most of them aren't terribly happy, and even so, god I'd be horrified if that was all people were reading.

We've seen it across fandom at large with the polls; I have not watched season 2 of Our Flag Means Death in part because I've realized with horror that this mentality has swept, plague-like, through that fandom; people are acting like having a canon queer ship on a small premium cable show in 2022 is world-changing and unprecedented while also kind of ignoring everything that isn't the central ship (including valid criticisms of how this takes a real-world plantation owner and turns him into a goofy fop, how there's precious few female characters and none in the main cast, and how the actually far more groundbreaking nb character is pushed aside in favor of the core M/M ship). Spoilers for Good Omens again (sorry in advance, Good Omens 2 was a realization point for me how deeply and widely this rot has set in in some places and I have a bunch of sources of people being like "guys stories require conflict and tension to be good" in response to the overwrought moaning that the story wasn't unambiguously happy) but this is another author responding to the "the desired endpoint of all fiction is obviously to have your ship living in a small house together in bliss and anything else is torment" mentality.

In addition to shipping another factor is, I think, people overidentifying with characters and as such being reluctant to actually put them through any sort of hardship, however minor. I recently reblogged a post about the origin of the concept "Mary Sue" and it led me to read a bit about its history, because it was in fact created by women. It was a woman in the Star Trek fandom who was sick of spending money to buy fanzines (pre-common home internet, let alone pre-Ao3) only to find the vast majority of the stories to be this "here is my self-insert who is perfect and beautiful and pure and every other character thinks she is the greatest even if that's entire OOC". It was a frustration with the abandonment of the characterizations in the original work. And that's true today - I have read a popular Imogen and Laudna fluff fic to see what the deal was and it stripped out so much of their premises and characterizations it was unrecognizeable as them but for the hair colors and occasional cringeworthy attempts to replicate Southern US dialect - but what was notable is that those people were at least being honest and writing OCs (though to be fair a lot of them were also young white teen girls and the only woman in TOS was black and that was probably also a factor). Now, you get people who cannot tolerate any analysis of characters that is less than flattering because instead of having an OC, they are identifying so strongly with, for example, Imogen or Ashton, that they cannot separate out the real character or understand this is not an attack on them (or, to be blunt, as someone who sees some of my own worse traits in both those characters, a necessary critique). It's not shipping, but it is that same "fiction should only ever be a soft blanket or a flattering mirror, never a dark mirror and certainly never a door" mentality.

I do place a little blame on fanfiction itself; I think having something that is roughly made to order and tells you exactly what it is up front means people start to think that is the only way, and that's why we have people claiming Chipotle is the height of cuisine while making gagging noises at the authentic Mexican restaurant except for fiction. I think fanfiction can be great; it's fun to write and I have read some great pieces. But a lot of it is mush and formulaic and as that Mary Sue history points out, always has been.

So anyway, to Bells Hells: I think past campaigns also had a lot of dull fanfiction; I think the Nein lent themselves more to poorly written angst than poorly written fluff but yeah a lot of that was really samey and bland in its own way. Fanfiction has always been formulaic to a degree but I think we're starting to see the generation of people who really have read more of that than like, books, and sure there are shitty books, but man there's a LOT of shitty fanfiction, and increasingly, I find that shitty published books are bad because they're too much like fanfiction. [If I get the chance today I have a post I want to write about the ignorance of fantasy tropes in the current fandom which I think is also driving some of this and which I alluded to in my post about shipping; like, I feel the almost automatic but oddly thought-free resistance to gods and fate and the 'right' way to respond to a tragic backstory comes from this ignorance; this also is a case in the D20 fandom when they've dipped into sci fi.] Shipping definitely is a factor, and I think again C3 has an influx of fans primarily here to ship in that "my ship must become canon and must 'win' for some arbitrary definition thereof" which is probably why so much of the fanfic sucks, but again, this is a larger self-infantilizing and entitled mentality that goes beyond mere ships.

Further reading (mostly my own posts but not exclusively)

The fandom echo chamber (also Good Omens spoilers in a broad sense), not by me

Some discussion on queerphobia being inserted only as a tool to assist with specific shipping narratives (I think this ties in again to like. people need obstacles to justify why the characters aren't already in their cottage by the sea but once the characters are together they discard these obstacles even if they are systemic and would still exist, which makes for really bad fanfic bc it's clearly poorly plotted and thought out)

Me on why this campaign isn't good for shipping but a lot of the fandom showed up primarily to ship (might be the post that prompted this ask tbf)

Fandom monocropping (not my post)

My treatise on Imogen and Laudna specifically which honestly, even now that they are canon, still largely holds up re: the fandom and a related one about similarly fluff-centric Change is Evil and the highest order of fiction is Two Blorbos In A House With Zero Problems mentality (not by me but I've been part of that discussion)

[goddesspharo]

Ok so this isn’t really a question but I was thinking about possible plots for the third movie that have maximum phoenix and hangman (obviously) and I cannot shake the idea of a reunion of the daggers for some sort of secret mission

Now I know absolutely nothing about the navy but hear me out, the gang is called back in (hangman, rooster, payback, fanboy etc) after a plane went down in enemy territory and at the mission brief, it’s revealed, dun dun da da…. It was phoenix and Bob and there’s reason to believe they’re still out there

I have no idea if you’re open to prompt ideas so feel free to tell me to f all the way off but since they’ll probably never do something like that for the actual third movie, I figure the next best thing is the best fic rider for the ship

I’m sensing major opportunity for some Jake and Bradley begrudging partnership and fun dynamics all around

Thoughts?

Ooh, this kind of sounds like Stealth but not shitty. (Does anyone remember how they recut the trailers for that movie to heavily feature Jamie Foxx as soon as he won the Oscar despite him being in it for like 15 minutes? Lol)

I take all of the "we've got a timeline for Top Gun 3, etc etc" talk with a grain of salt because it took them like 30+ years to make the sequel -- everyone else might be all about franchises but I know Tom Cruise isn't going to churn out a legacy movie just to churn it out without a decent script or someone promising him that he can fly a plane inverted in space. As much as I love TGM, I don't see where they'd realistically go with a third movie (nor do I necessarily need them to? End on a high note I say). In the same way that Ethan Hunt is still very much front and center of the MI franchise much to Jeremy Renner's chagrin when he thought they'd hand it over to him, I don't see them ever shifting the focus off Mav who will be pushing 70 at that point (it's okay for Tom Cruise, but I don't think the navy is letting That Old Man do All That Shit).

Thank you for your faith in my ability to write a backdoor sequel, but to be honest it was tough work to write action scenes when I was writing against the grain of dystopic claims so I might not be the one to write about a rescue mission that doesn't involve everyone just threatening to kill each other because they read the map wrong and are now going around in circles in the jungle. I also harbor a secret belief that if Phoenix and Bob ever went down and they needed to launch a second mission to save them, by the time our himbos got there, Phoenix would already have saved them both and they'd be sipping Mai Tais poolside at the closest Club Med. Extreme "I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, I can handle this" energy. If anything, she'd have to cut her vacation short to save the daggers who were supposed to be saving her.

But there is a sort of big damn hero moment coming up in can't fake what you can't break up with so hopefully that scratches the itch! (As an aside: to that anon who asked me last week about this fic, you kickstarted me working on that again with that ask. Of course now it's like 17k and I still haven't written that part that was holding me up, but the parts I did write make it flow better so thanks for getting the creative juices flowing! Turns out asking fic writers about their WIPs prompts them to write more stuff, go figure!)