#i’ve cried at two fanfics in my lifetime

[garoujo]

if anyone is looking for me i’m going in the warmest shower of my life to cry about star’s new hanma fic for the next 4 hours

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 27 of 28, 18+)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

CW: There is EXPLICIT SMUT in this chapter.

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | 

Act III - Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (18+) | Part 28 (END)

AO3 Link is here, my love.

Word Count: 5,624

——————————

Act III, Chapter 6 - The Return

Astarion stood at the dock, staring out over the water. The silver moonlight shone brightly, as if it wanted to cheer him on. It was a full moon too, just like it was when they defeated the Netherbrain. 

It felt like a lifetime ago.

He had come here every night, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a whole hour, just… waiting. And every night, he left feeling a little disappointed.

But tonight felt different.

Yesterday, as the sun rose in the sky, he had hummed a song he remembered, a song she had sung to him. The melody had lulled him into what he thought was a reverie. But he had fallen asleep. And he had dreamed.

He had dreamt of her.

So he stood at the very same spot where he had last seen her, looking out over the water, and for the first time in a while, he hoped.

Against the soft, rhythmic splashing of the waves, he could almost hear her voice, a warm, rapturous melody that made him feel like he was sitting in front of a cozy campfire, with her sitting in his lap as he sipped from her neck, savoring her warm blood. He could imagine her taste, sweet on his tongue, lingering like honey wine, warm and soothing, just like her. 

The singing in his mind grew louder.

“Gods, it’s like she’s right here,” he mumbled to himself. “I’m losing my damn mind.”

He was so sure that he was going crazy that he didn’t even question when the water at the foot of the docks began to swirl in a whirlpool. But as it grew bigger and faster, he began to step back, away from the edge of the pier.

Then he stopped. Her voice was getting louder.

The whirlpool glowed for a moment, then an intricate circular rune began to appear above the water, lines steadily being drawn in a light blue hue that was very familiar. Hope bubbled in his heart like a spring.

Magic crackled in the air as the lines drew out the rest of the pattern. The circle closed and there was a flash of bright light. He covered his eyes against the supernatural glare.

He heard a soft thud and opened his eyes. He blinked.

In the echoing silence, Astarion said her name like a prayer.

***

It was strange, suddenly being back in Toril. You weren’t sure how much time had passed on this side. After all, a whole year had passed for you. But when you looked up, you saw Astarion standing before you, looking a little more pale than you remember. He called your name, like a supplication, and you nearly cried.

As your fey form faded back to your human form, you leapt into his outstretched arms.

The two of you held each other tightly. Nothing short of the end of the world would tear you two apart.

Finally, you moved back so you could see his smiling face, keeping your arms around him. “How long have I been gone?”

He tipped his head in confusion. “Twenty-eight days.”

You blinked. “That’s it?”

He frowned. “Why…?”

You stepped back. “I… I’ve been in the Feywild for a whole year.” You started to cry in relief. “I thought time went faster here, I thought everyone would be gone!”

Astarion pulled you back into his arms and pressed his forehead against yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m here.”

He let you cry for a little while before he pulled back. “Well. You’ll have to tell me all about your year away,” he said as he stepped back and offered you his arm. “We have a lot to catch up on, it seems.”

***

As you walked with him to his home, he told you briefly about the others. Wyll and Karlach had left for Avernus together a couple of weeks ago when Karlach’s engine started to give out. Shadowheart and Gale had moved to Waterdeep. Jaheira and Minsc were still around in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin had taken the orphans in the city and left for Thaniel’s lands.

“I’d like to let them know I’m back safely,” you mentioned casually.

“I’ll write to them,” Astarion said, just as the two of you reached his home. It was a small townhouse in the city that had belonged to one of the murder victims of the cult of Bhaal. No one wanted to claim it, so Astarion took it, and had been slowly patching it up.

He opened the five locks on the door and opened it with a flourish, guiding you inside with his hand on the small of your back.

The ground level was bereft of any furnishings. A plain foyer led to a small kitchen and pantry, with a small side room and a door to a stairwell on the other side. The stairs were honestly a bit of a mess with chipped stonework and sharp edges on the steps.

“What’s upstairs?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much right now.” 

You took a quick peek with his permission. There was only a small room on one side of the hall and a covered balcony on the other that faced the river. It, too, was empty, with dust and cobwebs everywhere.

This place needs some work.

However, once you followed him down to the basement, you were a bit in awe. 

The stairway opened into a cozy sitting room, minimally decorated with a rug and some cushions for lounging. You noticed that some ornate daggers were displayed on a mostly empty bookshelf. There were a few colorful tapestries hung on the wall to give the room a bit of life, and a small fireplace to keep it warm. Against the wall across from the fireplace was a chaise lounge, a throw blanket haphazardly tossed across it.

There were two other doors for the washroom and bedroom. The luxurious washroom had two sinks and a tub large enough for two, with a door that connected to a grand bedroom with minimalist, stylish decor. There was a king sized bed covered in black silk sheets, and night stands on either side with two drawers each, clearly stuffed with knick knacks and jewelry. Bookcases lined two of the walls, floor to ceiling. They were only half filled.

“You have a lot of shelving,” you noted, looking at the empty bookcases on either side of the door leading back to the sitting room. “Planning on collecting more books or knick knacks?”

“Perhaps I’m waiting for someone else to fill the other half.”

You turned to look at him, and his shy expression made your heart skip a beat. Somehow, he always seemed so much more attractive to you when he suddenly showed signs of being a normal person instead of a charming rake.

“Perhaps someone would take you up on that,” you commented as you followed him back to the sitting room. He led you to the cushions in front of the fireplace and sat down with you.

“Shall I?” you asked with a grin.

“If you could,” he replied.

You sang your fire cantrip, and you noticed that he was watching you with a content smile on his face. As you watched the wood burning, listening to the crackle and pop of the embers, he curled himself around you and held you close.

“How did you know that I was coming back?” you asked.

“Just a hunch.”

You laughed softly at him using your own line.

“But I really did,” he insisted, though his pout wasn’t making it any more believable. Then he took your hand in his. “I dreamed of you. You were singing on the dock in the full moonlight, and you turned to me and waved for me to come to you.”

“I thought you didn’t like to dream. How did you even fall asleep in the first place?”

He turned away, looking a little embarrassed. “I… I hummed your song. I was surprised it worked, to be honest.”

You blinked. Then you laughed. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Gods, I hope they do. I just want to laze around in bed with you for a whole week.”

“I still need to eat, you know. And find some way of making money so that I can eat.”

He huffed. “I can make enough for both of us.”

You looked at him curiously. “And what have you been doing while I've been gone?” 

His eyes glittered with amusement. “It turns out that if you kill bad guys, you can get away with murder. And no one wonders when their bodies suddenly disappear.”

You grinned mischievously. “So you're telling me you've become a hero of the night?”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Stop that, you're making me sound like one of those blasted romance novel protagonists.”

Cackling with merriment, you patted his knee. “I'm actually quite proud of you, despite my teasing.” 

Astarion held you close. You could feel his happiness, like sparkles of light on the edges of your own emotions. Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed happily in his embrace. 

After a few moments, a serious question came to mind. “Do you miss the daylight?” you asked quietly. 

He shrugged. “It was… hard, at first. I hate to admit it, but Wyll and Karlach helped me… accept my circumstances. If not for them I probably would have been a wreck for much longer.”

You kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

“And I’ll forever hold a grudge.”

When you frowned, he smiled and tapped you playfully on the nose before he leaned down and nuzzled you. “I’m joking. You were trapped in another plane. I can hardly blame you.” He sighed. “It'd be nice if I could find a way to not burn in the sun. I haven't given up, but I've come to accept the shadows as a part of me.”

You smiled at him, so proud of his growth. So proud, in fact, that you hesitated to tell him that there might be a way. 

He picked up on your silence, however, as he searched your gaze. 

“You're thinking about something.” He tapped your forehead. “What did you learn in that Feywild?”

You swallowed. You hemmed and hawed. But finally, you decided to tell him, and trust him to make his own decision. 

“There might be a way to prevent you from burning in the sun.”

“Weren't you already doing that? Before”—he gestured with one hand—“you disappeared.”

You shook your head. “That wouldn't have lasted more than a day.” Mother chastised the hells out of me when I told her what I was trying to do. “There's… another way.”

He stared at you for a few moments, observing your expression. “You sound hesitant.”

You took a deep breath. “Because you’re not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “You… you’ll have to bind yourself to me. With a seal.”

“Oh. So like a warlock. Is that all?”

You looked at him in panic. He doesn’t understand. “It’s not the same! Because I’m not a full archfey, my… mortality… affects how the pact works.” 

He raised an eyebrow.

“It means that you are linking your life to mine and keeping me anchored to this plane so that I can stay in Toril when I use spells more powerful than a cantrip,” you quickly explained. “But I'm mortal. At some point, I'll pass away. And when that happens, your life, which is tied to mine, will end too.”

He was quiet for a moment. “And this will let me walk in the sun?”

You shrugged. “It might. My mother thinks it should, in theory. But she wasn’t sure because a vampire spawn has never contracted with an archfey before.” And an archfey would never contract with a vampire, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Astarion hummed in thought. After a few moments, he nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

You were a little shocked. “Wait, you’d bank your eternal life on a maybe?”

“I have the freedom to make my own choices.”

“But I’m mortal! You have forever—”

“I told you. I’m not afraid to die. But to live forever without you? I don't even want to consider it.”

Ugh, I knew he was impulsive. You swallowed. “This goes for me getting killed too.”

“Then I’ll just have to protect you.” He paused. “Does it work in reverse? If I’m killed…”

“I’d just be released from the pact,” you replied, noting that he sighed in relief at your answer. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Never been more sure of anything.” He took your hand. “So bind yourself to me.”

Smiling, tears in your eyes, you held his hands tightly. “We’ll have matching seals,” you said as one last ditch effort to get him to reconsider. “You’d have to live with that fashion faux pas for the rest of your life.”

“Hmm, well, when you put it that way…” He laughed. “Come now, do you honestly think a small thing like that will stop me from wanting this? When can we make our pact?”

“Erm…We can perform the ritual tonight, since it’s a full moon. Otherwise, you have to wait for the next one.” You wrung your hands again. “Are you sure?”

“Stop trying to delay this.” He tipped his head. “Unless, you don’t want this?”

“I…” You paused. Did you? Astarion waited patiently for your answer, but you could tell he was getting worried by your silence.

Do I want to be with him for the rest of my life? Yes. Of course I do.

You took a deep breath. “I want this. I just want to be sure that you do too.”

Astarion smiled. “I do.” He leaned in a bit. “So. How do we do this?”

You got up and led him to the bedroom.

“Oh, is this one of those sexy rituals?” he asked as you took off your shirt.

“Not really,” you half-lied, even though your mouth went dry when he followed suit and removed his own shirt. Gods, he really looks like he’s sculpted out of marble. You took off the rest of your clothes, dropping them on the ground before kneeling down on the cold stone floor in just your underwear. You patted the spot in front of you. “Kneel here, please.”

“So polite,” he said with a smirk as he removed the rest of his clothes and knelt before you. “Not that I mind, but why must we be dressed in only our underwear?”

“In case our clothes catch on fire.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

You shrugged. “We’ll be fine. I think.”

Astarion let out a soft huff. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“No.”

He blinked. Then he shrugged. “Well then. I guess we’ll fumble through this together.”

You slowly straddled his lap, his eyes going wide for a moment, but he didn’t stop you. You took his hands and placed his right palm against the small of your back, his left hand covering his right. You did the same to him.

“Whatever happens, whatever burning sensation you feel, don’t let go.”

He nodded, understanding. Staring into his eyes, you began to sing.

My strength will be yours

Within this seal I weave onto thee

Our hearts will combine into one

I will forever be with you

Tonight, our souls meld

Our fates aligned by breath and by blood

Let our lives be ever intertwined

Bind us always in starlight.

Astarion winced as the rune began to take hold on the small of his back underneath your palm. You could feel the same rune on your own skin, like a burning quill, drawing an intricate pattern into your flesh. When you felt the circle finish, you let out a sigh of relief.

“It is done,” you said, leaning back and moving your hands to his shoulders. “You want to see?”

He nodded, and you got off his lap and turned around. Reaching down, he traced the circle’s lines with his fingers. “And the same rune is on me?”

“Should be,” you said, shifting around to kneel behind him. “Yeah,” you confirmed as you touched the light silver-blue seal. “We match.”

He turned towards you, and you realized with a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks that he was quite happy. His exuberance was making a sizable bulge in his underwear.

“Darling,” he purred, leaning closer. “Perhaps we should celebrate.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek. “We’ve yet to enjoy each other, now that the world is no longer coming to an end.”

Yes, it was time. A mixture of eagerness and nerves made you tremble slightly as you nodded.

Astarion smiled and stood, holding his hand out to you to help you up. Hand in hand, he led you to his luxurious bed, playfully pushing you down and straddling your thighs. You expected him to lean down and kiss you. Instead, he took your hands in his.

“This will be a first, being with someone I truly care about.” He held your hands delicately, as if you would break under the slightest pressure. “I don't even know where to begin.”

“We could start with a kiss, perhaps.” You smiled shyly up at him. “This is new to me too.”

His eyes widened, but you quickly clarified. “I've had a few awkward fumblings hidden away in closets and storage rooms, nothing… Real.”

“Oh darling,” he said, sounding eager. “Then consider this your real first night.”

He kissed each of your hands tenderly before setting them down gingerly beside you. His gaze became intense as he leaned down, his body covering yours. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling his sculpted muscles, his smooth skin. When your lips met, he let out a soft moan as he slowly drew out the kiss, gently nibbling your lower lip before coaxing your mouth open. Your tongues met, hesitantly at first, but the kiss grew deeper, your breaths quicker as his hips moved against yours.

Your legs opened on their own, just so you could feel the brush of his body against you more intimately. As he leaned down to nuzzle your neck, he hooked his hand under your knee and spread your legs even wider.

“My sweet witch,” he murmured in your ear before playfully biting your earlobe. “Will you give me a treat?”

“Did you say please?”

He smirked. “Please,” he asked in a low tone.

“Alright, since you asked nicely,” you replied breathlessly. 

He let out a deep, knowing laugh before he let his fangs graze along the sensitive skin of your neck. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he rasped before he bit down.

You let out a soft cry as the pain and pleasure mixed in your mind. His hips rolled, rubbing himself against you in a most pleasurable rhythm, and you lifted your own hips to meet his pace, the thin cloth of your panties growing wet. To your surprise, he released you from his bite after only a small taste, kissing your wound before lifting himself up to meet your gaze.

“Saving some for later,” he said when you gave him a questioning look. His eyes fluttered shut as he licked a drop of blood from his lips. “I want you fully awake for what I’m about to do to you.”

Your cheeks heated with the implication. Oh goodness. 

His hands grazed the neckline of your bra, his finger lingering at the laces that kept it intact. “Shall I take these off for you, my dear?”

“If you can,” you said with some sass.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

His eyes narrowed as he deftly undid the laces with one graceful pull. “Easy,” he purred as he lowered his head to nuzzle between your bare breasts. His gaze stayed on yours as he lightly skimmed his fangs across your skin before taking a nipple between his lips. As he gently sucked and pulled on one, he teased the other with his forefinger and thumb.

You let out a pathetic little moan. 

He chuckled. “Sensitive, are we?” Shimmying down your body and laying kisses as he went, his lips reached the hem of your panties. Without breaking eye contact, he bit the fabric and pulled it halfway down your thighs.

“You’re already so wet, my love,” he murmured as he propped your ankles over his shoulder. “Are you so eager for my touch?”

You were. You could feel his lust, pulsing like a living thing, and it was doubling your own desire. “Feeling how much you want me is heating me up so much.”

He grinned as he pulled your panties off and flung them over his shoulder. Then he held your legs against his chest, pressing his cheek to your calf. He closed his eyes for a moment before turning his head to kiss it tenderly. “Good. I want you to feel every bit of it.”

Taking your legs off his shoulder, he spread you wide. Bending down, Astarion laid a trail of kisses up your inner thigh. With his face between your legs, he grinned. “All of that nectar, just for me.”

You forgot how to breathe when you felt his tongue against your core. He masterfully pleasured you, alternating between delicate licks and taking in your bud between his lips and sucking hard enough to make you scream. He was making your insides coil up, the tension building with each touch.

He brushed against your folds with his finger, caressing your bud with his thumb as he moved up your body, kissing a wet trail up your stomach, around the curves of your breasts, along your collarbone. He nibbled playfully at your neck before lifting himself up on one elbow to look down at you.

You felt his finger penetrate you as he stared, watching your reaction. 

You gasped as he pushed deeper.

“Darling, you’ll need to loosen up,” he teased. “Or I’ll never fit.”

Oh gods. Your breathing hitched at the thought.

“Did the thought excite you?” He pressed another finger into you. “Of me spreading you open, taking you, claiming you?”

You whimpered with need.

He laughed, low and deep. His fingers moved faster, his thumb stroking your core with more pressure. He watched you carefully, making sure every touch brought you to greater and greater heights, until you felt the dam finally burst under all the delicious pressure. Pure bliss flooded your body, and you let out a strangled cry.

“Astarion!”

“Good girl,” he murmured. “So good, coming for me.”

Then he slipped a third finger inside of you while you were still spasming, and you shook with the intrusion. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, slowing his strokes as you came down from your high. You spread your legs wider for him, your hips jerking forward to meet his hand.

“Who knew? My sweet little witch was secretly a wanton temptress.” Kissing the corner of your lips, Astarion pushed himself completely up and away from you with a knowing smirk. With your eyes glued to him, he peeled off his underwear.

Your eyes must have bugged out, because his smirk became extra arrogant. “Like what you see, my sweet?”

You nodded. But you were a little concerned. He’ll never fit.

As he crawled back over you, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I can’t wait to sink into you. I’ve been waiting forever for this.” He kissed you again. “Waiting forever for you.”

You felt the tip of him nudging your entrance.

Oh my goodness. He’s…

He pushed. You winced. He stopped.

“Deep breath, darling.”

You obeyed.

“That’s it, that’s my sweet love,” he coaxed as he pushed a little further inside. “You feel so good, better than heaven.”

He slowly rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, and with every stroke, he sank a little deeper into you.

Fuck, he is so thick, he’s splitting me open.

His attention was so hyper focused on you that when he finally hilted inside of you, he paused, watching you squirm underneath him, his mouth slightly open as if he wanted to take a bite.

“Look at you, so helpless under me,” he murmured. “Giving me your trust.” He kissed your cheek tenderly. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you said in a breathy voice. “Make love to me.”

He laughed softly. “I was going to use the word ‘fuck’, but if you want it sweet and gentle, I can do that for you.”

His hips rolled slowly as he built up a steady rhythm, making sure you felt every inch of him as he showed you how much he loved you.

But after a few minutes, you could tell he was ebbing in and out of being present, and you held his face in your hands. “Astarion?” you asked gently.

He blinked, his gaze refocusing on yours. “I’m here, my love.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t quite what he wants. “What do you want to do?”

Astarion glanced away for a moment before giving you a smile that you knew was a lie. “Whatever you want to do.”

You ran your hands through his hair soothingly. “I want you to be happy. I want you to tell me how you want to make love to me.”

He stared at you for a moment, his hips slowing and finally resting himself inside of you. “I…” He trailed off, swallowed, and tried again. “I’ve always had to… perform, for the sake of others. But with you… I just want to ravish you, darling.” He leaned down and nuzzled your cheek. “But I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

You could feel the hot pulse of his desire and shivered with the depth of his need for you. Oh. Oh my.

Astarion lovingly kissed your jawline. “I want to fuck you so hard you forget where you end and I begin. I want to be so lost inside of you that I never want to return.”

With a fluttering breath, you wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your ankles into the back of his thighs. “Then take me the way you want to,” you whispered.

He lifted himself up onto his haunches and grabbed your hips. You only had a split second to realize what his smirk meant before he rocked his hips and slammed into you, pushing all the air from your lungs. You gasped and began to make helpless, breathy noises as he fucked you as hard as he promised. He reached down with one hand and cupped your cheek tenderly, a clear contradiction to his ravishing thrusts.

“You make me so happy,” he said before he fell upon you again, slipping one hand between your bodies. His fingers rubbed your core as he nestled his head on your shoulder. You could feel his breath against your neck as he spoke.

“Will you let me bite you when you come?”

“Yes,” you breathed, unable to deny him anything.

“Thank you,” he said against your skin, his tongue flicking out as if he was tasting your skin, preparing to bite. He pressed his lips against your pulse and kissed you gently, even as he was thrusting into you even harder and faster, making his eagerness to both come and to drink from you readily apparent.

You were out of breath with his continuous pounding, so you reached up and touched his cheek, just as he looked directly at you. A blast of passion came through your empathy, and you moaned helplessly from its onslaught, the intensity of his gaze making your heart thump even quicker.

He smiled knowingly. “I just felt you tremble around me. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to use your voice.

He gave you quite possibly the sexiest little grin before taking you with even more vigor, stroking you rapidly. “Good girl. Come for me, please,” he rumbled.

For whatever reason, that was enough to make your body ignite. You swear you saw fireworks behind your eyes as your climax took you hard, shaking you down, making you scream out Astarion’s name over and over like a prayer.

He purred more praises, coaxing you through your completion. You looked at him in a haze of bliss and noticed his pupils were blown out. 

“My sweet treat,” he murmured before he licked your pulse and bit down on your neck.

Your vision went black, then pure white in half as many moments. Pleasure erupted from your neck and your core, and you swear you came again, your channel throbbing and squeezing around him.

Distantly, you could feel him letting go of your neck, hear him cry out as he thrust once, twice, thrice more before stilling, his hips crushing yours against the mattress.

“Fuck,” he rasped, staring down at you. “You are fucking amazing.”

He rolled over and took you with him, draping you over his body as you caught your breath. When you finally looked up at him, you noticed he was staring through you. Reaching up, you cupped his cheek.

“Are you with me?”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, even though he didn’t need to. Perhaps it was the comfort of the motion, since his body didn’t need the air. When he opened his eyes once more, they were solidly focused on yours.

“Yes. I’m here with you,” he whispered as he leaned his cheek into your touch.

You knew he was telling you the truth, that his mind was in the present. You could feel that bubbling affection, a fountain of fondness that enveloped you, made you feel cared for, made you feel seen. “Will you be alright?”

His smile flickered for a moment. “There were a few moments when… I wasn’t here. But I came back on my own. It… may take a bit of time, but I think I’ll be alright.” He hugged you tight. “As long as I have you to return to.”

You hugged him back. “I’m glad. I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”

“I know, darling.” He brought your forehead against his and took a deep breath again. When he looked up at you, his smile was genuine in its softness. “I love you. And I’ll always love you, until the very end.”

***

You woke in the morning, your neck and, well, your whole body sore. You could hear sounds coming from the washroom and knew Astarion was primping for the new day. 

Wait. Day? 

You immediately sat up, and immediately regretted it as the blood rushed from your head. Groaning in discomfort, you slowly keeled over and held your head. 

You could hear Astarion walking over and sitting on the bed next to you. When you raised your head, he was holding a potion out to you. 

“Drink this. You'll feel better.”

You gratefully took the bottle and drank it in one gulp. “Oof, this potion tastes like iron shavings and over-cooked mushrooms.” You blinked. “Huh, but my head feels much better.”

Astarion was looking at you with a withering glare. “I made that just for you, you know. It's not my fault your journal didn't have better instructions.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You kept my things?”

“Well, of course. Who else would have them?” 

You shrugged. “I don't know, I thought…” You paused. You didn't want to tell him that you thought only Shadowheart would have remembered to grab your pack. “Well, I don't know.”

Astarion continued to stare at you until you began to fidget under his scrutiny. “I know you're lying, but it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I have your things, and that your potions journal is impossible to decipher.”

You could only laugh; you had written your apothecary notes in a shorthand that only you knew. You were honestly impressed he got as far as figuring out the base ingredients for your headache potion.

He put his hands on his hips. “Well, now that you're feeling better, let's go face the new day, shall we?”

Day. Daylight. You panicked. 

“What's wrong, darling? Afraid it might not work?” 

“Of course I’m afraid! I was told it could work, not that it would.”

“Only one way to find out.” He scooped up your clothes and tossed them at you with a ‘hurry up’ gesture. The moment you were done pulling your clothes on, he took your hand and dragged you up the stairs. You followed him to the shades in front of the window.

He stared at the draperies for a few moments before turning to you. “Ready?”

You hesitated. 

Astarion stepped closer to you and pulled you into his arms. “Whatever happens, whether this works or not, I won't regret bonding with you.” 

How did he know what I was thinking? Somehow, he had soothed your worries with just the right thing to say. You took a deep breath. “Alright. The moment you start to burn, I'm closing them.”

He nodded. 

You pulled the drapes open. The sunlight made a sharp rectangle on the stone floor. 

Slowly Astarion began to approach. As the light shone onto his face, you held your breath. 

Seconds passed. Then a full minute. 

And he did not burn.

He turned around to face you, his beatific smile nearly as blinding as the morning sun. “Darling, I can feel the sun again,” he purred as he walked back to you. “I believe this is cause for celebration.”

With that, he dragged you back downstairs and kept you busy long enough that he didn’t get to enjoy the sun any further that day.

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

Act III, Chapter 6 End notes: Whew, finally! Haha, I felt a little strange, writing a love scene for a different fandom and different characters, but I hope this was steamy for everyone. This is technically the end of the main story, but I’ve got an epilogue for y’all, aligning with the epilogue in the game, so hopefully that’ll be a nice cap to the end of the story.

The binding spell is sung here. Please forgive my terrible singing, haha.

Tags List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

[nightcreepsin]

dnf fic recs !

hi i went through the entire dnf ao3 tag so you dont have to! jk i have a specific fanfic taste (as does everyone), but i read really fast and used that opportunity to read as many dnf fics as i could in a short period of time

i’m sure this is going to be long, so i’ll put it mostly under the cut so i don’t interrupt scrolling lol

okay im going to try to break things up into sections

generally good fics:

got a thing about you (and it won’t go away) by alltimecharlo - dream sends george one of his hoodies. height differences. bets. first meetings. pining. what more could you ask for? 

dandelions, poppies and other ways to say i love you by starberrydew - soft. george sees colors. so so much fluff and pining dream

when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you by wishie - god i love identity porn. and coffee shop aus. george moves to america and finds himself for an oddly familiar barista...

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems by alienu - laser tag. it’s cute. that is all. very very cute

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes by meridies - childhood friends go on a road trip before college and there are feelings

heart and throat, lined with it by fensandmarshes - more softness. sleepy cuddles. short and sweet

dizzy on caffeine by gleaminggreengoggles - typical coffee shop au. very cute. sapnap and bad have had enough of the pining idiots. naturally

angsty-ish- i didn’t plan on this section but found more angst than i realized:

like real people do by meridies - i’ve rec’d this before. i love it. i’m a big fan of realism and this fic is absolutely beautiful, showcasing how damaging the internet and social media really can be

my hands are shaking from holding back from you by lyrasa - good ol’ fwb. not really sad, but it did hurt. very lovely

gone before sunrise by sapphicwritings - another fwb au and wow this one also hurts. it’s currently unfinished by i love it and am praying to the gods that it updates. there’s also a really good fic playlist that the author made. it’s also a college au so

awkward hearts (beating faster and faster) by limerence - one of my favorite fics ever. housemates with angst, but a happy ending (i love it when authors fix what they break). much obliviousness, much rewarding

alternate universes:

press the curves of our smiles together by fensandmarshes, lieyuu - percy jackson au??? i loved this fic (series) so so much. i love their dynamic in this and when you find out george’s godly parent oohoo you’re in for a delight

litany in which certain things are crossed out by lazy_kitkat- probably the best knight dream, king george fic i’ve ever read. i loved the structure. really i loved everything about it

family mode by strawberry_flavoured_tears - minecraft verse where dream and george have kids and it’s so soft

operation mistletoe by meridies - hogwarts au? holiday fic? pining? yes. also george is a former beauxbaton and i didn’t know i needed that

ambedo by solochimmy - another harry potter au. i love this so much i cannot even. featuring dream as a metamorphmagus, changing his hair to george’s favorite color i’m not crying you are

nsfw- i’m exposing myself with this one, please be mindful of tags:

hot sugar by glittering_ant - one of my favorite fics of all time. i’m a sucker for college aus and gd this fic was hot. drunk sex after a party turns to more? sign me up

pretty tears by luckylikeyou - if you want smut, this author is where to go, wow their fics are hot. dream is turned on by crying and george cries a lot. i particularly like this one but they have a lot of good nswf fics

loving you came easily by athasa - it’s an a/b/o fic and i’m not usually a fan of these but i love this one sm. i’m a sucker for the miscommunication roommate combo trope and this captures that perfectly

brownies by bellafeir - baking brownies gets a bit messy for our dear dream and george. one of the tags is getting railed on a counter and if that doesn’t do it for you i don’t know what will. this author also has lots of good nsfw in general

okay this is ridiculously long. will people in even read all of this who knows. i have many more fics to rec lol. maybe i’ll do a part two. but yeah i hope y’all check out these fics as well as all the authors because they’re honestly so talented

i’ve probably missed good fics, but i can assure you that these are all very good. send me asks / dms if you would like to rant about fic with me or just anything dnf

[hachichimitsu]

top 5 fanfic tropes!

You always know what buttons to push to never get me to shut up 😫 You have opened a can of worms, Ella, A CAN OF WORMS!!

These aren’t in particular order btw because man, I tried ranking these 5 but I CAN’T. I physically can’t:

1. Hurt / Comfort: I can go on and on about why hurt / comfort fics legit give me life. The idea of achieving a sense of comfort within each other after moments of pure emotional pain is just so…*cries in hands* like I will eat that shit up every single time. I just like fics where the main central focus is about healing and finding pleasure again in the little things, and hurt / comfort fics are just so good at exploring the different love languages each character craves AND what they offer to their partner. I don’t think I’ve ever read a “sick fic” that was bad. Like even if the grammar is poor or it’s short or it’s pretty basic in plot, the essence of hurt / comfort in sick fics are usually never tainted or mismanaged. It’s like the heart and soul to any fic out there. Plus, I think it’s interesting how just as you read the characters getting the relaxing comfort and happiness they deserve, you are also “healing” along with them. So by the end of the fic, it’s like your mind is fresh and life is good again. Usually if I’m having a bad day, hurt / comfort fics are my immediate go-to.

2. Canon Compliant: I think being able to utilize canon events and adding your own unique spin to it is such a genius idea! It’s pretty hard to actually execute such a task in my opinion, which is why when I see one that’s done well, I’m like *surprised pikachu face*. You’re sort of forced to have the characters act “in-character” without ruining the integrity canon brings you, as well as still having the events fit within its timeline. Which is like….so hard since you’re trying to write something supplemental to canon, not a divergence from it. I think if a canon compliant fic has successfully clarified and expounded on something that felt “missing” from the original source material, then it’s done its job.

3. Found Family: This can also be applied with hurt / comfort, but I like fics where there is a large cast of characters that explore dynamics and friendships. The idea of finding solidarity within others, being able to grow with the people who actually see your worth and having nice, humorous banter between friends are just so fun in fics! I like lighthearted things, I like group camaraderie and I like seeing characters stick by each other no matter what. I guess it’s like the people-oriented aspect of my personality that just enjoys these.

4. Strangers AU: Imagine….if they never knew each other until way later on in life 😳 I like first encounter fics, especially since they explore (god how many times have I said that word) how these characters fare without the other in their lifetimes. How would Person A have grown up without having Person B in their life? It’s an interesting question to behold and truly highlights how the people you have in your circle really does influence the type of person you become over time. I love fics where it’s like “where have I met you all my life, it’s like I’ve known you for years now”. Or “wow, I grew up feeling this inner pit of emptiness, but then I met you and things finally make sense now.” Just…..like the idea of how “we were destined to meet again” and how magnetic the two characters are like missing puzzle pieces even having never talked before is *clutches heart*. I’m being so dramatic but it’s GOLD. Pure gold.

5. Tearful Farewells: Yeah, I obviously have issues because I LOVE reading fics that make me sad. Like seriously, there must be something wrong with me because I love feeling that excruciating pain of painful goodbyes. The idea that this will be the last time these two characters will ever get to do this. Them being in deep denial about the events that will unfold eventually, maybe cracking jokes that “maybe it won’t happen. maybe there’s a way out of saying goodbye to each other”. Them trying to find a way to prolong their stay, only for things to become fruitless in the end because it just “can’t happen”. The false sense of hope they keep telling themselves. Them trying to enjoy their last moments with each other, as time is ticking away. The bittersweet sorrow that comes with it. The end of a chapter. Why do I have this masochistic pleasure of doing this to myself?

[writing-in-april]

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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All Works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @spenxerslut @boxofsparklingmuses @katexrichardson @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr @ashcakes1918 @reid-me-a-story @cosmic-psychickitty

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[willsimpforazula]

Sokkla Month Day 27/28: Angst/Fluff

A/N: Song is Oath Sign by LiSA, English translation from Amalee's cover.

PS: Fate has some killer OPs.

PPS: I blame my laziness on being too engrossed in Seiba fanfics.

Anywho...bone apple tea or somthing liek dats

------

繰り返す世界 何度手を伸ばしたら

儚い涙は黒い心溶かすの?

芽生え出した思いが胸に響いたなら

君の隣でずっと変わらず護るだろう

Once again I reach my hand into a world, repeating on end

Though it's dark, could my tears carve a path and lead me right into your heart?

Like a rose it blooms and grows inside my chest you're name's all it knows

Is this fate, 'cuz every day I pray that by your side I can stay

The first time they met, it was in an abandoned town in some forgotten corner of the Earth Kingdom. From then on, they sought to find out everything and anything they could on each other.

Every piece of information, every scrap of rumours and sightings was held tightly to their chest, blooming and growing as each of them kept tabs on the other as best they could. When asked, they casually dismissed it as 'research on the enemy', though both of them knew they weren't fooling anyone. After all, research most certainly did not include figuring out each other's likes and dislikes, as if one were to be inviting the other over for some afternoon tea.

-------

堕ちた希望を拾って 明日に繋いでゆけば

絡まった歪な願いだってほどける

I'll gather these fallen flowers, the hope discarded and broken

And join them where they can meet, my wish is to set them free

"Are you sure about this?"

"More than I've ever been."

"What if your sister…"

"If she wanted to, she would have done it a long time ago."

"Regardless, I don't like it one bit. Not after what she did to-to-"

"You were just itching for an excuse to bloodbend me no matter what I said or did, even after helping you track down your mother's killer. But yes, please lecture me on what your brother can and cannot do."

"That was different."

"I fail to see the differences."

"......"

"Everyone deserves a second chance. Killing her doesn't solve anything. Or taking her bending away. Your brother is the only one who can get through to her. Not me, not the therapists. I just want her to be whole again, free from Ozai's influences."

"If she ever so much as hurts a hair on him, she is dead, consequences be damned and you won't stop me. Understand?"

"Be my guest."

-----

光をかざして躊躇いを消した

あげたかったのは未来で

泣いてる夜抱いたまま 嘆きを叫んで

踏み入れた足を 遠くの理想が そっと癒してゆく

確かな絆を強く握り進もう どこまでも

穢れきった奇跡を背に

Holding up the light within and with no hesitation,

To give you a future is all I wanted

Hold me tight through the dark endless nights, as I scream till the morning' s light

All my broken down ideals, I know they will heal

With every step they'll form the future

I'll hold tightly to this special bond we share, I'll follow you anywhere

Carrying onwards bearing this miracle

"Why are you here?"

"I-well, I-"

"Answer me, brother of Katara. Why do you come day after day? Is it because you wish to rub my defeat in my face? Or are you here to make me feel comfortable with my executioner? Answer me."

"It's neither of these."

"Lies."

"I'm not lying, princess."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"This. Pretending to be my friend, offering empty words. I don't need any of these."

"That's where you're wrong. Your brother-"

"Is weak and an imbecile for letting me live."

"Everyone deserves a second chance. Even you."

"If the roles were reversed you would have been executed on the spot, after a long torture session that would make death seem like a release."

"I doubt that."

"What would you know of my methods?"

"Because I know deep down inside there is still that spark inside of you. You are only the way that you are because frankly your parents were shit."

"You know nothing!"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Pulling out a dossier, he slid it across to her.

"What is this?"

"Know thy enemy, know thyself and you will win a hundred battles. Call it a hunch, call it a brother's intuition. Besides, if you really wanted me dead I would have been killed, I don't know, about twenty times over before we got to this point?"

"Fuck off Sokka, I don't want to see your face for the rest of the month."

"Keep telling yourself that missy." he smirked, even as a fireball whizzed dangerously close to his head.

"My my, someone's rusty."

"Fuck you you no good piece of shit savage!" she snarled, even as he moved out of earshot. Sometimes, she thought, it was better to not meet one's idol after all.

------

創られた想い 触れればなによりも

温かくて現実が霞み始める

狂い出した世界に問いかけ続けても

答えなんて出ないって もう君は知っていたの?

泣いて滲んだ願いは 決して揺るぎはしなくて

ただそっと痛みを終わりなく与える

Once again I hope I can regain the warmth that's ahead, and I pray these fake feelings will blur

As the world starts to fade away

Even if I lose my grip and set this question free from my lips,

I won't be surprised to know no answer will come from the light

This wish that was born from our tears, I know it'll never waver

I won't forget the pain even as we forge on ahead

"Crown Princess Azula, you are hereby relieved of all titles save your status as a princess and are forbidden from entering Caldera without prior permission from the Fire Lord himself. You are to be placed under house arrest on Ma'inka for the rest of your days. All communication will be vetted and censored and any attempt at inciting rebellion will result in your bending being stripped away as your only warning. The next attempt will result in public capital punishment. Do you understand?"

"I hear and obey."

"One question."

"Go ahead."

"Why spare me? Why let me live with my bending, knowing that it will be more trouble than it's worth?"

"It seems you have an advocate high in the system that petitioned on your behalf. Any more questions?"

"None."

"You have twenty four hours to prepare, starting now. I suggest you make full use of this time."

Why did you do it? Sokka you stupid fucking idiot, I'm a fucking liablity here. I really hope you don't regret it, she thought to herself.

---

Dear Suki,

I know what you're thinking. Believe me, sometimes I wonder if it's easier to just let her die or languish in some asylum for the rest of her days. But, well, I don't think I'll ever sleep easy at night knowing that perhaps I could have done something to save her.

I know with every sentence I write, I'm essentially digging my own grave. And frankly, I don't blame you. After all she did throw you into the Fire Nation's Supermax. I won't pretend her hands are clean, that she didn't know what she was doing but still, I think everyone deserves a second chance.

I'm sorry.

Sorry for leading you on all this while.

Sorry for making you think we had a future together.

Sorry for making you wait so long before I came to save you.

Most of all, sorry for giving what is rightfully yours to someone who probably doesn't deserve it.

I know that you'd most likely hop on the next boat and drag my corpse back to Caldera so you can beat the shit out of me one more time but please, whatever happens, your happiness isn't with me.

PS: Katara was just as livid when I told her about it. Also, I hear Zuko is single and ready to mingle (probably not the latter; spirits know he has the social skills of a turtleduck, which is to say none).

---------

哀しみを知って 喜びを知った 弱さは君を変えて

立ち止まった時 剥がれ すべてを壊した

Only knowing of sadness

Never thought I could feel this

But now I know what is pure happiness

Time stops still, taking your breath away

So rip from weakness and escape

Standing on the bridge, the glowing lights of Caldera grew ever fainter until it was a distant white speck on the horizon, before it finally sank beneath the horizon. Under the light of the stars and moon, the vessel was illuminated by the moonlight and the bioluminescent blue algae crashing against the bow of the ship. It seemed ironic that a vessel that carried her off two years with the promise of greatness and glory would now be carrying her off to obscurity and exile.

"Here, wear this. Wouldn't want you getting a cold now?"

"Why?" she whispered, a stray tear falling from her eyes as she felt a coat placed on her shoulders.

"Why what?"

"Why do all of this? For me? For someone who doesn't deserve this?"

"Because no one stood up for you when they should have."

"You shouldn't have. You deserve your happy ever after with Suki, not a lifetime of pain and regret with me."

"Maybe. Maybe it's all for nothing and I deserve a lifetime of pain and regret for being an idiot. But if I'm being honest, the times I sparred with you were the times I felt most alive. Like as if I finally found what I've been seeking for all this while."

"This is a massive gamble you're taking, betting it all like this."

"What can I say? It almost worked on the Day of the Black Sun. It worked out on the day of Sozin's Comet."

"What makes you think you can save me from myself? More to the point, why do you think I want to be saved to begin with? Until you can give me a satisfactory answer, don't come and look for me." she replied.

Just as she was about to disappear into the ship, she heard him mutter "Because you deserve to be happy too."

------

届くはずのない言葉を託して 見えた瞳は

何を感じて遠ざけるの? 心隠すように

今ここにいる意味 教えてくれたなら

強くいられる 変わらずいつも

I keep screaming out to you though I may never reach you,

But still I can picture the light in your eyes

Tell me what makes you so afraid that you'd hide your heart away

If only you'd turn to to me and say the words that would give my life meaning

Then I would and will forever be strong enough

Ducking into her room, Azula cried into her pillow, as she asked if this was one of fate's twisted ironies dealing her a hand that seemed too good to be true. Monsters don't need saving, they need to be put down. You don't deserve him.

Shut up!

You know it's true.

What's stopping him from betraying you? Or has your adolescent heart fallen for him that you would excuse any of his actions?

Shut up!

I could go on. Do you want me to?

No, stop please!

Azula!

Azula!

Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands embracing her in a tight hug, making her gasp. It was warm, familiar and comforting. At once, the voices in her mind stilled, as the other person called out her name tenderly, like a parent with a lost child. Instinctively she knew it was Sokka, yet she kept her eyes screwed shut lest it all turn out to be a figment of her imagination.

After all, she had once hallucinated her mother talking to her on the day of Sozin's Comet when she was obviously nowhere near her room, much less Caldera or the Palace.

In a small still voice, she asked "Is-is it really you Sokka?", to which she felt a gentle pressure of his lips on her forehead and a response "Can hallucinations do this?"

"I don't know anymore. Please, don't lie to me."

"Open your eyes."

"No, what if it's all just my hallucinations?"

Another kiss.

"Still not convinced?"

"No."

Scooping up her hands in his, he pressed it against his chest and cheeks before asking her "Are you convinced now?"

In response, she buried her face in his shoulder, this time sobbing loudly as emotion overtook her senses. Meanwhile, Sokka just held her wordlessly, stroking her hair and back. When she finally stilled, he placed her on the bed and tucked her in. Before he left, she asked "Do you mean it?"

"?"

"What you said on the bridge, that I deserve to be happy too, even after all I've done?"

"Yes."

---------

光をかざして躊躇いを消した

あげたかったのは未来で

泣いてる夜抱いたまま 嘆きを叫んで

踏み入れた足を 遠くの理想が そっと癒してゆく

確かな絆を強く握り進もう どこまでも

迷いなんて目を開いて

振り払って手を伸ばそう

穢れきった奇跡を背に

Holding up the light within and with no hesitation,

To give you a future is all I wanted

Hold me tight through the dark endless nights, as I scream till the morning' s light

All my broken down ideals, I know they will heal

With every step they'll form the future

I'll hold tightly to this special bond we share, I'll follow you anywhere

No hesitating I'll open my eyes, though my heart's breaking

I'll reach out my hand and carry onwards

Bearing this miracle

15 years later….

"No no no Sokka you can't do this! You promised!" Azula screamed as she held his battered body in her hands.

"I-I'm sorry, firefly. I guess I was in over my head a little, huh?" he coughed, blood and spit staining the floor and her dress.

"I-we-don't have much time. There's someone else you need to protect."

"You're my only anchor to sanity Sokka! You can't."

Grabbing the nearest sheet of paper, Sokka wrote down a short message, before tearing off his necklace and dipping in it his blood, before pressing it into the paper like a seal.

"T-that should be enough, I think."

"Sokka please stop saying things like these! Our kid needs a father! She needs you! I need you!"

"Then I'm a terrible father if I can't protect those whom I love. Please, go now."

"Sokka!"

"Remember what I said on the bridge that night we left Caldera?"

"Yes, but don't you deserve happiness too?"

"Being with you these past fifteen years made me happy enough, so please, for the sake of yours and hers, go now while you still have the time."

"You're just one swordsman and a non-bender, how-"

"I have my ways. Seriously please, grab this and go! Every second we argue here is one second less you have to escape!"

"Alright, fine! But I better see you in Caldera, or else! I'll be damned if I let Risa grow up without a father."

"I'll try."

"No 'try', you will. Promise me Sokka."

"As you wish, firefly."

----

Present day

"Mommy, where are we going?"

"We're going to see daddy, Riri."

"Going to see daddy?"

"Yes, that's right." she replied as she stepped into the small shrine.

Turning her head and looking around, Risa could only see plaques with names and faces, but not a single person. Tugging on her mother's sleeve, she asked "Where's daddy? Why are we here?"

Scooping her up into her arms, she pointed at a plaque that bore his name and face, as well as a jet black sword encased in stone. "That-" she pointed, "is daddy."

At once, things clicked her mind and she asked the obvious "Is-is daddy gone?"

"No, no he isn't. Because he's in you and me. As long as someone remembers him, he will never be gone."

"Really?"

"Really."

Pulling out a handful of joss sticks, she asked Risa "Could you light this for me?" Nodding, she conjured a small green flame on her fingertips and lit the incense. Handing over three of the six sticks in her hands, both mother and daughter bowed twice, before placing it in the urn. Finally, Azula unwrapped a packet of seal jerky and placed it as an offering on the altar, before bowing again and taking her daughter by the hand to leave the place.

As they did, she could feel a burden being lifted from her shoulders as they crossed the threshold and just for a moment, she thought she could smell the ocean breeze and smoke, twin scents that reminded her so much of the boy, no, man who threw it all aside for her.

"I promise Sokka, I'll make sure Risa here grows up happy and healthy." she whispered to herself.

[ghostmartyr]

/clears throat/ so, Immi, I hear you like the locked tomb, which is fantastic! from one person also escaping the snk series into TLT to another, what did you think of the characters and plot in HtN? are there any things you're most excited to see when Alecto comes out in 2022?

-pats lifeboat- This baby can fit so much trauma.

SPOILERS, naturally.

With another paragraph informing the curious that unspoiled is the way to go into HtN, since if you aren’t lost and confused, are you really reading Harrow the Ninth?

I read it all in one day, and that was a choice. It does mean my memory and understanding of what all went on is slightly dependent on someone else on the internet exploding over a particular set of paragraphs and explaining their significance to me, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

HtN disappointed me on one front in that I was hoping seeing more of Harrow 1.0 would help out any future fic endeavors. On everything else, like the first one, being told the story is such a good time that I’m willing to wait on a full comprehension of where it’s going.

I also really like second person.

What I loved most about HtN is how even without Gideon mentioned until very, very late in the book, you can feel her absence everywhere. In the wrong bubble flashbacks you’re commanded to examine the strangeness, but even in Harrow going about her day, the isolation and the wrongness of it decorate her every action. She’s alone, and she shouldn’t be, and the loss she’s unaware of bleeds into a constant echo of grief.

I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated absence as a narrative tool so much. Obviously griddlehark hours go hard once they start in HtN, but even before then, there is so much power to their connection that looking into a world where it never exists still manages to punch you in the heart with how much each one inhabits everything the other is.

The whole series is amping me up with a few thoughts on loneliness, honestly. Gideon and Harrow grow up alone on the Ninth, save for each other. It takes leaving for that to be any kind of good thing. The first book is tag team Among Us with everyone in their little clusters, slowly learning what other people are about as they all drop dead.

The second book has a different vibe and different plot things going on, but it’s similar in that the protagonist gets thrown into a world they don’t fit and have to put on a show. Only now there are even fewer people to familiarize with, with that number correlating directly to how they all killed the person closest to keeping them from being alone.

Lyctorhood is taking the person dearest to your heart and trapping them there forever while they’re stripped of everything that made them who they are.

...Also Ianthe is there.

Gideon, Mercy, and Augustine are the last Lyctors standing after 10,000 years. There were only seven, starting out. Sixteen acolytes who came to the First. The only pair who didn’t succeed in condensing themselves is separated from the pack and sent to live away from their peers on a tiny planet that no one has anything good to say about.

Alecto is John’s -- who even knows, past A Lot, and he puts her to sleep and locks her in a prison no one but he can get past.

God has seven friends. More if you want to count the people in the Cohort, but realistically, he has seven friends. Then they keep dying.

Harrow spends HtN in a spaceship with five people.

One is trying to kill her.

One ordered that one to try to kill her.

Two could not care less about the useless baby Lyctor.

One is Ianthe.

There is no real endgame. There is surviving life, and life has become a game of running as far away as possible so you don’t share your ruin upon your inevitable death.

It’s bleak and sad.

Harrow’s healthiest relationships are with dead people, and some of them she didn’t know at all in life.

Reiterating it, the most plot significant bit of the world is finding someone else in the world, swearing yourself to them, and smashing your souls together until you’ve lost the connection entirely.

My brain’s not in the best place so I can’t do more than gesture loudly at it, but a few people have mentioned that the series’ thesis is a counter to Ianthe’s statement that love is acquisitive.

Harrow tightens her hold around Gideon until Gideon would rather she just strangle her and get it over with, all things considered. It fucks them both up, and when they start working to get past it, circumstance wraps a chain around both their throats.

The necromancers who become imperfect Lyctors have all acquired their cavaliers, and besides the cav, it kills that bond.

Harrow’s rejection of that is why Gideon’s soul is still in the world of the living (and John blood).

She has spent her entire life eating pieces of Gideon to keep herself a horrid imitation of whole, and when she is finally offered that, she refuses.

Grief and how Harrow just can’t are active elements of the book, and Magnus gives her more therapy in five minutes talking about it than she has ever had in her life, but the reason why that isn’t the end of Gideon is because, unlike all the other Lyctors, Harrow turns the offer down.

With the exception of Babs and Ianthe, the relationship between cavaliers and necros about to do the Lyctor thing is cavaliers promising to burn for an eternity while their necromancer lives off the fumes.

Fuck that is Harrow’s response.

Cytherea says, in the aftermath, that they had the choice to stop.

Harrow stops.

A lifetime of doing exactly what Gideon is telling her to do with her death, and Harrow chooses to stop.

Harrow remembers Ortus’ poetry. She regularly sees her congregation off to their deaths. She keeps Gideon’s glasses. She views Palamedes, head exploded and all, as an infinitely better person than she is because of the quality of his exemplary character. She pulls Gideon the First from the incinerator on the night she plans to kill him.

Kiddo has so many fucking issues, but somewhere, she has learned to respect people for being people. That’s why she and Gideon are the heroes of the story, ultimately, and Ortus saying that they’re heroes worthy of the Ninth doesn’t fall flat. They’re actually trying.

Where that puts us for Alecto, I don’t pretend to know.

Since the first book is the temptation of an end to isolation, only to have it snatched away, the second book is the continuation of isolation with a few promising sparks of human connection that pave the way for hope...

That leaves the third book to shed the isolation and allow the connections to thrive.

With Gideon and Harrow MIA.

I know that the books kick things up into high gear in the final acts each time, but if they’re both gone for the majority of the book, no matter how much fun it is, I’m going to miss them. They’re the core leads, and I don’t want to be without them in the final part.

The 2022 release date has aged my soul. I deliberately planned my GtN read to land a month before HtN came out, then suffered when that was delayed. When really that was nothing at all. I hate waiting.

(Insert note that I’m very glad they aren’t forcing Muir to rush anything out. It’s been a rough time, but also, just in general authors should have the opportunity to create the best versions of their art they can, so the extra time hurts, but it’s obviously for the best.)

What I’m most excited for is probably the cover art. The first two have been awesome, and the artist said he’d likely do print sales for all three when the third’s revealed. My wallet cries but my heart does not.

What I dare not be excited for is the potential for Gideon and Harrow meeting again and perhaps hugging. In their own bodies.

I’d take other bodies, but ideally, y’know.

Also I would love for Harrow to finally meet her popsicle girlfriend.

I doubt it would be a wholly positive experience, but by golly I want it. Maybe they could hug too. It would probably kill Harrow again, but who doesn’t expect several people to die again in the third book?

However it plays out, I’m expecting to enjoy AtN. The writing’s the sort that I’ll happily follow wherever it goes. For everything else, there’s fanfic. The only real worry I have is the whole book will be narrated by Ianthe, and while I mentally groan at that, I actually find Ianthe’s commentary delightful, so even in the worst case scenario I’m having a good time.

Thank you so much for the ask.

[astoldbygingersnaps]

Dear author, for the fanfic writer asks, would you consider answering: 3. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from Star Trek AU? and 28. Is there a part of you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet for Salvation Comes Only in our Dreams?? Either way, thank you so much for writing and sharing your incredible stories with us!! 😍🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

answers under the cut!

3. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from Star Trek AU? 

OH JEEZ. this is Such a hard question because star trek au is my baby and so many pieces of that series mean so much to me. i also think my answer to this question will forever be shifting as the fic isn’t finished yet (and won’t be... for a while... rip), but my current answer is probably the one-two punch of Those Itachi and Shisui Scenes™ from chapter three of part three: 

Shisui had thought that, should he have the misfortune to end up face-to-face with Itachi during this conversation he would find the man infuriated, his expression brimming with the fearsome temper his Vulcan convictions force him to keep up lock and key. But right now Itachi doesn’t resemble a ferocious Vulcan warrior, all snarling teeth and righteous fury. Right now, with his rain-damp face and frantic dark eyes, he’s wild in a way that’s even more frighteningi. “Look at me,” Itachi all but begs him, and Shisui stops breathing entirely. With blood pounding between his ears, he listens as Itachi cries, “ Speak to me. Tell me what it is I have done to wrong you, if there is such a thing, and what it is you want from me.”

And just like that, Shisui’s composure finally fucking breaks. “What I want from you?” he asks with a laugh, the sound caught between disbelief and bitterness. He feels just as crazy as Itachi currently looks, unrestrained and reckless and completely unable to hold back the reply he knows he should continue to keep buried as deep within him as it will go.

“Everything,” Shisui says simply, lips curving into a grin he hates the feeling of. “That’s the whole damn problem, isn’t it?” Just as quick as Itachi before him, he grabs Itachi’s wrist and adds, with a rasp that he can see sends a shiver through the man’s frame, “I want everything from you.”

and

Shisui’s disappointed more people than he can count during his lifetime, but it’s never felt like this. For all the mistakes he’s made and the paths he’s gone down, there’s never been a single thing he’s regretted more than the way Itachi’s currently looking at him. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apology falling from his mouth in a pathetic and frantic display as he reaches out to the man recoiling from him. “Itachi, I am so fucking sorry that I--”

“Don’t touch me!” Itachi yells back, pulling away from Shisui’s outstretched hand. “Don’t you dare try to touch me right now.” Shaking his head in disbelief, he tells Shisui, the words raw and cracked-open, “You stumble in here and confess to lying to my face for months and expect me to forgive you merely because you feel sorry about it?”

To that, Shisui has no response, merely stands there and takes it as Itachi tears into him. “I have trusted you more than I have ever trusted anyone in this life, and in return for my faith you spat on me. We were supposed to be partners.”

“We are,” Shisui argues quietly.

“No,” Itachi insists. “If you respected me at all you never would have treated me like this. You wouldn’t have made me feel like a fool for ever believing in you.” All at once the righteous fire burns of Itachi, leaving exhaustion and confusion in its wake.

It’s then that Itachi turns to him and delivers the most devastating blow of all: “Who are you?”

because i have been waiting for this bomb to go off for 1.5years and i was genuinely so satisfied at how this chapter came out. it was everything i planned and wanted it to be, and watching the reactions from people has been a blast.

28. Is there a part of you’re surprised no one has picked up on yet for Salvation Comes Only in our Dreams

not exactly mostly because, as much as i like the idea of this au, it’s kind of the red-headed stepchild of my projects and doesn’t get updated as much it should/i’d like (which is hilarious, because as far as my stats go, it’s actually my most popular fic for shiita. go figure, lol.) 

i’ve said this before, but part of the difficulty of this fic is that, while i have the major plot beats sketched out, in a lot of ways i’m flying by the seat of my pants and making shit up as i go. there’s also a lot more ~mystery to this fic than, like, star trek au for example, so i am curious about people’s theories regarding where the fic will end up and why certain plot points have played out the way they have. 

one thing i Will give away is the origin of the fic’s title. like every other person who came of age during early 2010s tumblr culture, i tend to use lines of poetry or song lyrics to title my writing, and massacre au is no exception. the title comes from the song ‘terrible lie’ by nine inch nails, and seemed appropriate since the whole point of the song is basically begging for understanding in a cruel and seemingly random world (and also hating christianity, as most songs from the ‘pretty hate machine’ era of NIN are):

I really don't know what you mean Seems like salvation comes only in our dreams I feel my hatred grow all the more extreme (Hey god) can this world really be as sad as it seems?

it’s also my favorite song off my favorite album, so it was very funny for me to realize just how well it fits this au. i’d recommend giving it a listen if you want to get a better idea of the ~vibe of the story. if i’d consider it to be from itachi or shisui’s pov (or both)... well, i’ll let you guess for yourself :)

[ourimpavidheroine]

You always post your writing soundtracks. Mind sharing your top ten albums with us?

I actually laughed when I read this because I’m thinking of the Anon who complained that all of my music was OLD. I mean. I’m old! What did you expect?

Never mind me, I’m easily amused. Thank you for using the word album so I would not feel like Lady Danbury with my lethal cane.

Yes, sure I can do that! I don’t know that these are my forever and ever amen top ten, but they are the ones that are coming to mind right now. So.

Under a cut, it’s long. 

In no particular order.

Brutal Youth - Elvis Costello

My ex-husband was in love with Elvis Costello and who could blame him? The man is a genius lyricist. This is not one of his more commercially popular albums but I love every single track. (I also lined up at Ticketmaster in Oakland, CA when the man was touring in order to get tickets for my ex. I got there at midnight and spent the night, meeting a group of drag queens who were getting tickets to see Barbara Streisand. God, that was a fun night, we ate donuts one of them went on a donut run for and sang showtunes for hours. One of my favorite memories.) This verse, from Clown Strike, is one that has resonated with me since I first heard it.

Tell me what you want of me Or are you terrified of failure? You put on a superstitious face Behind all this paraphernalia We're not living in a masquerade Where you only have three wishes It isn't easy to see In a lifetime of mistaken kisses

Unrepentant Geraldines - Tori Amos

I remember the first time I heard a Tori Amos song. It was the summer directly after I’d graduated from college, I was driving my ex-husband’s car and Silent All These Years came on the radio and I was just fucking gobsmacked. I bought Little Earthquakes that day and haven’t looked back. I have all her albums. I am a big, big fan.

Unrepentant Geraldines, though. God. It came out the year before my wife died and it got me through her death. The song Weatherman is about a man losing his wife, and how he sees her in the nature surrounding him. 

And. 

No, sorry, I can’t write more about this, not right now. But I sing it to her sometimes. 

He is not a weatherman But his bride lies with the land And she will whisper to him I'll be dressing up in snow Cloaked in echo it's almost As if only Nature knows How to paint his wife to life With every season's tone "One more look from her eyes One more look can you paint her back to life"

Ray of Light - Madonna

This album got me through my divorce from my ex-husband. I’d go out every single day during my lunch hour, this on my walkman, and walk and walk and walk until I got myself in enough control to go back and finish my work day. It’s a great album and I still listen to it a lot. It empowers me. And then my daughter was born and Ray of Light has always been her song to me, even though that wasn’t the song on the album that Madonna herself wrote for her daughter.

Faster than the speeding light she's flying Trying to remember where it all began She's got herself a little piece of heaven Waiting for the time when Earth shall be as one And I feel like I just got home And I feel And I feel like I just got home And I feel

Seven and the Ragged Tiger - Duran Duran

This one was a difficult choice. For one thing, I really love their album Big Thing, which almost nobody’s heard about but one I love deeply. This one though...I think it’s the memories, including going to see them at the Oakland Coliseum with my cousin during their tour for this album and finding out they were partially filming the video for The Reflex that night. I like to think of us as being one of those girls in the audience. (Although I wasn’t screaming. I am a Capricorn. Have some dignity.) Duran Duran were responsible for my first fanfic and I’ve had a love for them since my Dad bought me their first album for my 13th birthday. I am nothing if not loyal. I have all of their early albums, all of their 12″ singles, too, including Secret Oktober, which I have always loved with a passion.

Also, Roger Taylor can still get it.

Freefall on a windy morning shore nothing but a fading track of footsteps Could prove that you never been there Spoken on a cotton cloud like the sound of gunshot taken by the wind And lost in distant thunder racing on a shining plain And tomorrow you'll be content to watch as the lightning plays along the wires and you'll wonder

Touch - Eurythmics

Another band I still love and listen to on the regular. Annie Lennox could sing me the telephone book and I’d be thrilled. Seeing her at age 14 in the Sweet Dreams video for the first time in my Grandmother’s living room quite literally woke something in me that led to moving across the world for a woman years later. (GOD.) I have all of their albums and choosing a favorite is difficult but this one won by a narrow margin, if only for the song Regrets, which is one of the songs that describes me until I became a mother, really. Like I RESONATED with that song. Still does in certain ways, if I am being truthful to myself.

I've got a delicate mind I've got a dangerous nature And my fist collides With your furniture I've got a delicate mind I've got a dangerous nature And my fist collides With your furniture I'm an electric wire And I'm stuck inside your head

Combat Rock - The Clash

Ah, teenage Impavid first understanding that music can also be political. Listen, I didn’t know much about what was going on outside of my own miniscule sphere - I was young and the internet didn’t exist yet. We got what news we got from our local paper and TV stations and they weren’t really reporting on what was happening in the world, not in 1982, let me fucking assure you. I got this album because my Dad was a part time DJ at a radio station that played mostly country music and the general manager of the station would just toss the rest of the non-country albums they’d get as promotions. My Dad would bring them home to me to listen to. You can imagine thirteen year old me listening to this album that opened with “This is a public service announcement - with guitars!” going WHAT THE FUCK? Let me just say there were a lot of trips to the library to read various newspapers after that.

Not to mention Rock the Casbah. What was a muezzin? I had no idea. I spent half a year reading books about Islam, about the Middle East and Northern Africa, which led to a curiosity about other religions beyond the Roman Catholicism in which I’d been raised, about other cultures as well. This album and The Color Purple by Alice Walker were the two things in my teen years that woke me the fuck up.

Now the king told the boogie men You have to let that raga drop The oil down the desert way Has been shakin' to the top The sheik he drove his Cadillac He went a' cruisin' down the ville The muezzin was a' standing On the radiator grille

Synchronicity - The Police

This fucking album. This fucking album. This album reached deep down into me and pulled out my soul and kicked it around for awhile. Every single song on this album hit me like a brick wall. Still does. Most likely always will.

Listen, you either like King of Pain or you live it. There’s no in between.

There's a little black spot on the sun today It's the same old thing as yesterday There's a black hat caught in a high tree top There's a flag pole rag and the wind won't stop I have stood here before inside the pouring rain With the world turning circles running 'round my brain. I guess I'm always hoping that you'll end this reign, But it's my destiny to be the king of pain...

Sign O’ The Times - Prince 

The soundtrack to my University days. Jesus, it starts out with “In France a skinny man died of a big disease with a little name,” and it just keeps going. Pain, sex, wonder, glory, politics, love. It’s all there. I wore the vinyl out on this one. Amazing, amazing album. In fact, I still play it so often my kids practically know it by heart, and they don’t even like Prince!

To this day I think If I Was Your Girlfriend is the sexiest song ever written.

I will tell you this much: Sayuri’s main writing soundtrack song is Starfish and Coffee off the album, the same song I used to sing my kids as a lullaby. This should tell you a lot about her.

Cynthia wore the prettiest dress With different color socks Sometimes I wondered if the mates where in her lunchbox Me and Lucy opened it when Cynthia wasn't around Lucy cried, I almost died, U know what we found? Starfish and coffee Maple syrup and jam Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine And a side order of ham If U set your mind free, honey Maybe you'd understand Starfish and coffee Maple syrup and jam

Nina Simone Sings The Blues - Nina Simone

This was one of my Daddy’s albums. He loved it and so did I. As a child I just loved the sound of her voice - something in it both soothed me and pulled at me, made me want to run and just keep running. She still makes me feel like that. If you don’t know Nina Simone I urge you to change that, right now. There’s nobody at all like her. She’s irreplaceable. All of her material is good, not just her blues songs. Not to mention, she was an absolute brilliant genius at the piano, never mind the strength she had as a Black woman in a time when doors were shut in her face on a daily basis. Seriously. Read about her.

When I became a woman, of course, her songs took on a much deeper meaning for me, one that I could relate to. Isn’t that the hallmark of a good album, though? One that stays with you and changes with you? I think so.

If you’ve never heard her cover of I Put A Spell On You then do yourself a favor and go right now and listen. You’re welcome.

Oh and Buck from this album? Nuo to Wing, right there.

Also one of the sexiest songs ever written, this one. Especially how she sings it. The Hot Frenchman (have I ever told you about The Hot Frenchman? no? OH BOY THERE’S A STORY) told me he thought it was about drugs and I was like, honey, this tells me a whole lot about you, more than you probably wanted it to.

I want a little sugar In my bowl I want a little sweetness Down in my soul I could stand some lovin' Oh so bad I feel so funny and I feel so sad I want a little steam On my clothes Maybe I can fix things up So they'll go Whatsa matter Daddy Come on, save my soul I need some sugar in my bowl I ain't foolin' I want some sugar in my bowl

I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got - Sinéad O’Connor

This is a beautiful album, full of pain and joy, her hallmark. She sings every single word with everything in her; she’s far too intense for many, many people (and while she’s been open with her mental health struggles I’ve often wondered if she isn’t somewhere on the spectrum as well) but never for me. Her raw honesty has always appealed to me. She’s political, she’s a lover, a mother, a survivor of horrific abuse, someone who keeps reinventing herself as a way to find her way through pain. I always feel, when I am listening to her music, that I am bearing witness. I’m not afraid of pain; I’ve survived it as well. This album, one of her oldest, is still my favorite.

The line “You used to hold my hand when the plane took off” is the most evocative lyric I have ever heard with regards to the ending of love. It’s a punch to the heart - she felt it and she shared it with us, her fragile heart in her palms. Oh, Sinéad.

This is the last day of our acquaintance I will meet you later in somebody's office I'll talk but you won't listen to me I know what your answer will be I know you don't love me anymore You used to hold my hand when the plane took off Two years ago there just seemed so much more And I don't know what happened to our love

[chelsfic]

Devotions - WWDITS Fanfic - Nandor x Guillermo

Sequel to: Maybe One Day, My Love

WWDITS Masterlist

 A/N: Quick note to let you guys know that I have been writing up a storm, but I’ve posted many fics exclusively to AO3. It is just so much work to format every story for Tumblr. AO3 is such a superior place to read and write. So, check that out to see what you’ve missed. Thanks to @sinaesthete​ for beta reading this fic for me!

Summary: Following a death in the family, Guillermo goes to the park for his weekly "visit" with his ex-master. After two decades of distance and one-sided conversation, Nandor finally steps out of the shadows.

Warnings: Smut, Religious References, Parent Death

---

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.” -Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

It’s nightfall once again.

       Guillermo de la Cruz clutches a prayer card in his fist as he strides down the familiar path for the appointment he never misses. Not even tonight. 

       Puddles dot the paved lane; he carefully avoids them, not wishing to ruin his patent leather shoes. He’s still dressed in the clothes he wore to the funeral: a dark suit and tie that make him look somehow older and younger at the same time. Like a little boy dressed up in his father’s clothes. His rigid soles scuff against the cement. The scraping sound grounds him in time and place, pulling him back from the vision of the gleaming white casket heaped with flowers. 

       It’s early spring. The night is still chilly, but the park has begun to transform with the new season. Green shoots of grass peek out between moldy fallen leaves. Crocuses emerge in the flower beds that line the walk. The branches hanging overhead are heavy with verdant leaves whispering in the light breeze. Guillermo breathes in the damp, mildewy scent of new growth. Idly, he wonders if the funeral arrangements have started to wilt.

       He rounds the well-known turn in the path, finally arriving at his forgotten little alcove with its dilapidated bench. The wooden slats of the seat give way to his weight as he sits; the wood is soft and worn. He recalls the hard, polished church pews and decides that this is a much more suitable place for worship. The laminated prayer card bites into the tender flesh of his palm and he releases it, taking his hands from his pockets and letting them rest on the well-loved bench.

       Night sounds fill his ears: crickets murmuring in the grass, distant traffic rushing on the highway, gentle wind blowing through the trees. No matter how carefully he listens, holding his breath and keeping perfectly still, Guillermo will never hear his master’s approach until Nandor wishes it. Instead he begins his vigil, communing with the night, with this place, the setting for his devotions.

  “Let us pray...

I am the resurrection and the life, says the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever live and believe in me shall never die.”

       The priest’s words float back to him as if conjured by the night wind. Guillermo’s thoughts fix upon his lord. The one he’s worshiped since he was nineteen-years-old. He calls up Nandor’s image with ease, despite the years that have passed since actually seeing the vampire. Dark eyes ringed in fire, bottomless pits into which Guillermo has been falling for the last thirty-seven years. A body as cold and lethal as a winter’s night. Fangs that reap bloody sacrifices from his victims. Guillermo closes his eyes and Nandor is there before him--skin warm in the candlelight, lips relaxed in a rare smile, holding out his hand and beckoning Guillermo to come forward. In his vision, Nandor places his palm on the crest of Guillermo’s head in a blessing. 

  “Blessed are those who mourn,

For they will be comforted.”

       The snap of a twig announces him. Guillermo eyes snap open; he stares straight ahead into the trees on the other side of the nook. He senses Nandor in the darkness behind him, a guardian or a devil. Both. But he doesn’t turn to look, though every fiber of his being is attuned to his master’s cold presence; though he longs to lunge at him and hold him and never let him leave this place. That is not their arrangement. 

       Just this once, though, he wishes it could be different.

       Guillermo tries to speak; tries to perform their ritual as usual. But the words stick in his throat, congealing into a heavy lump that suffocates him. A shaky breath passes through his parted lips and becomes a sob. Suddenly there are tears spilling down his cheeks. He reaches into his pocket, removes the prayer card with Silvia de la Cruz’s beautiful portrait on it, and sets it on the seat beside him. 

       “She… died,” he explains in a shattered whisper, scrubbing furiously at his eyes with his fists. “Mi mam á . She’s gone, Nandor.” 

       For an instant the rest of the words stick in his throat: Guillermo’s not supposed to address him directly. That’s not part of their ritual. Now Nandor will leave; now he’ll never come back. But the grief soon scours away the fear of breaking their rules and Guillermo collapses down to his elbows, hanging his head and sobbing out his heartache and pain. 

       “It happened so s-suddenly, Nandor. I didn’t get to say good-bye or tell her I’m sorry.”

       Guillermo crosses his arms over his chest, hugging and rocking himself in a pitiful attempt to self-soothe. His sinuses are blocked; his face is flushed; his mouth tastes like bile and communion wafers and his t í a’s buñuelos. He’s desperate to get a hold himself, to salvage this evening somehow, but every time he nearly has the crying controlled his mind supplies him with a new torture. The stricken look on his amá’s face when he left home to work for Nandor. The smell of eggs and fresh tortillas in the morning. The sound of her clambering in the kitchen, cursing under breath. Her smile. Her hugs. The way she took him in, without questions, when he came back home covered in blood and hysterical after a decade of being a bad son. 

       Guillermo is so lost in memories, he almost misses the soft, hesitant touch on his shoulder. A hand--solid, strong, cold--closes around his shoulder and squeezes gently. Their first touch in twenty-six years. Guillermo’s breath stutters from his lungs. He freezes, terrified of breaking the fragile sanctity of this moment. He wavers on the threshold of action. Before he can summon the courage to cross it himself , Nandor does so  for him. The vampire’s hands are suddenly clutching, pawing at his shoulders and chest; clawed fingers dig into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket and haul him over the bench. He’s dragged through the spider-riddled bush and then all at once he’s in his master’s embrace. As if it hasn’t been decades since the last and first time they held each other. As if a whole lifetime of experience--sadness, joy, yearning, hope--hasn’t slipped through Guillermo’s mortal fingers. 

     Nandor wraps Guillermo up in his cape, the rich fabric and gold embroidery are clean and well-maintained. Guillermo finds himself wondering if Nandor has himself a new familiar, quickly deciding he doesn’t want to know. He buries his face in Nandor’s strong, broad chest and breathes him in. He smells like rose water, argan oil, and Tide To-Go Pens. He smells like warm candle wax and brassy, spilled blood. He smells like dust and animal pelts and frozen decay. He smells like home. 

  “And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long.”

       Guillermo never really left him, did he? Two decades spent building a human life, and with one simple embrace he is back on Staten Island, a nineteen-year-old boy knocking on a pagan god’s front door and offering himself in sacrifice.

     “Nandor,” he cries. It’s a plea, a demand, a tribute, a prayer. Once the name falls from his lips he can’t stop. “Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nandor. Nan--”

       The vampire shushes him, bringing his hand up to cradle Guillermo’s head against his chest. That voice, rich and deep, rumbles through the fabric of the leather vest and into Guillermo’s tear-streaked cheek. “I am sorry, my Guillermo. Your mama… she was a good lady. She took care of you, kept you safe and happy after…” he trails off, clearing his throat uncomfortably. His arms tighten around Guillermo. “I am so very sorry.”

       Guillermo clings to him, hands fisting in the cape, tugging at the material until Nandor is forced to stoop down. Guillermo closes his eyes, terrified of opening them to find that this is all a dream. Some kind of religious vision that will dissipate in a cloud of smoke if he breaks the spell. Nandor’s face is so close, he can feel the vampire’s cool breath on his cheeks. Guillermo presses forward, nuzzling his face into the whiskers of Nandor’s beard, gasping at the soft caress of long hair against his face.

       “Is this real?” Guillermo whispers; his words are fragile, like moth’s wings fluttering through the air between them. “Master, is it really you?”

       “Who else would it be, Guillermo?” Nandor chides in the same old amused tone that Guillermo has preserved in his heart like dried flower petals between the pages of the family bible. “Who else but me? It’s always me, Guillermo.”

       Thumbs wipe away the salty, stinging tears from Guillermo’s cheeks and the human huffs out a sound that’s a laugh, a sob and a cry of joy all at once.

       “It’s always you, master,” he agrees and seconds later he feels the cool, miraculous brush of Nandor’s lips on his.

  “Almighty God, cleanse my heart and my lips that I may worthily proclaim your Gospel.”

       Guillermo’s eyes fly open. Dark hair and pale, luminous skin fill his vision. Arms--powerful, undeniable--wrap around his soft little human form. He melts into Nandor, all the strength in his limbs bleeding away until the vampire’s strong grip is the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees. He’s resplendent, overjoyed to give himself up to the predatory angel before him. 

     The grief--a hollow, aching hole in his chest--is still there. But with it is a new sensation, at once well-known and utterly novel: ecstasy, fulfillment, completion. To be united with Nandor finally, after decades of pining, feels unreal and yet meant to be. It’s everything he’s dreamed of and denied dreaming of for so long. 

       Nandor’s lips slide against his own, cool to the touch yet soft and welcoming. Nothing like the hard and forbidding marble he’d always imagined. Nandor’s mouth is pliant and giving; it’s not unlike kissing a mortal man… as if Nandor isn’t the untouchable celestial being of his dark dreams, but flesh and--yes--blood. Guillermo flicks out his tongue and traces his master’s full, pouting lower lip. Nandor opens his mouth at once, granting him the entry he seeks. How can this be happening? After a lifetime of longing and supplication?

       “Guillermo,” Nandor says his name like a plea, his lips brushing, the syllables melting into their kiss. “My Guillermo. You’re mine, still, aren’t you? Will you be mine?”

       Guillermo mouth molds to his master’s. Nandor’s beard drags against the soft skin of his chin and cheeks. He pulls himself away long enough to answer. “Yes, Nandor. I’m still yours. If you’ll still be mine. Oh, God , please tell me you’re mine, Nandor!”

       God. For the first time in eight centuries, Nandor feels no pain at the holy word. Instead it dribbles from Guillermo’s lips, melting into their kiss and tasting like sweet honey. Yes, he thinks, finally allowing his hands to roam down his human supplicant’s body. Yes, I am your god, little mortal. And you are mine.

       The words spark in the night air, a spell that will keep them safe so long as they don’t stop touching. “I’m yours, Guillermo. Forever.”

       They tumble to the earth, a tangle of grasping limbs, rolling hips and desperate, longing kisses. Nandor breaks their fall, landing in the dewy grass with a soft grunt and clutching Guillermo to his chest with reverent care. Guillermo is alight with sensation. Prayers fall from his lips, holy words that once would have sent his master hissing and flinching, but which now seem to feed him. 

       “Nandor, my god!” He pulses his pelvis with every repetition of the name. “God, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

       Love . A word that should bring Nandor as much pain as the other and yet… Guillermo’s heartache, his abandon, his devotion have unlocked something inside of him. He lets himself free. His hands clench Guillermo’s backside and squeeze; he grinds their pelvises together in fervent desperation. Guillermo settles heavily on his chest, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s soft hair and raining kisses on his face. 

       “You will give yourself to me, won’t you?” Nandor whispers, an edge of uncertainty in his voice. “Finally?”

       The weight of ecstasy and sorrow on Guillermo’s soul leaves no room for the exasperation that he should rightfully feel at those words. As if Guillermo has not given himself to Nandor every day for his entire adult life. As if he wouldn’t have gladly killed to be in this position decades before. But here, in this holy place, in the communion of their bodies and souls, Guillermo doesn’t scoff. He presses a gentle, wet, lingering kiss to Nandor’s lips before answering. 

       “You already have me, Master.”

“ Take this... and eat of it, for this is my Body, which will be given up for you.”

       They lay Nandor’s cape out on the grass like a blanket. It’s almost completely dark in the shadowy undergrowth, but Guillermo still blushes as he shrugs off his suit coat and begins unbuttoning his shirt, aware of the vampire’s heightened senses. The darkness presses up against Guillermo’s eyeballs; he strains to see merely the faintest outline of Nandor’s powerful frame. His face is a dark blur except for his eyes. Nandor’s predator eyes drink in every bit of ambient light and reflect it back at Guillermo. They glow. Hallowed, fiery rings in the night.

       Guillermo is no longer a virgin. He feels a small, pitiful pang at the knowledge that he can’t give Nandor that part of himself. He’s slept with a few men over the years. But he’s never truly offered himself to any of them like he’s doing now. Guillermo takes off his shirt, his undershirt. He toes off his shoes and socks and undoes his belt. It’s cold and the cape is starting to absorb the dew and chill from the solid earth beneath, but he doesn’t shiver as he removes his pants and underwear. He lays on his back, nude, flushed, panting and achingly hard. He doesn’t feel the icy wind that raises goosebumps on his arms and hardens the pink tips of his nipples to little nubs. He is a sacrifice; an offering; a tribute. The cold can’t touch him now. Not with the fire of his lord’s eyes keeping him warm.

       Nandor’s hands paint ribbons of freezing flame on his skin. They brush lightly, teasingly across his belly, his chest, his thighs. The vampire drapes himself over Guillermo and the human realizes that he’s also undressed. They both gasp as their rigid, leaking erections bump against each other. Guillermo bucks his hips in uncontrolled desire and he feels Nandor sink his fingers into the ample flesh of his  thighs to hold him still. A huff of breathy amusement falls from the vampire’s lips. He grabs Guillermo up in another passionate kiss, nipping and licking his lips. A keening, vulnerable moan bubbles up from the vampire’s throat. He clutches Guillermo’s tender body against his cold,, cadaverous  frame. Tears--frigid and laced with blood-- fall down his cheeks and mingle with Guillermo’s. 

       “Guillermo!” Nandor gasps, pulling back. His hands trace patterns on the pulsing hot skin of Guillermo’s neck. The human waits and listens to his master’s labored breathing. A plea hangs in the air between them. “Will you give me this as well, Guillermo? Your blood?”

  “With faith in your love and mercy I eat your Body and drink your Blood.”

       For the first time, Guillermo wonders if Nandor comes here every week with the intention of offering worship just as he does.

       “Take it, Nandor,” he commands. His voice is strong, unwavering, loud in the solitude of their secluded grove. He reaches up blindly and takes Nandor’s face between his hands, guiding him down to the cradle of his neck until the vampire’s cool lips press against his skin. “Drink.”

       Nandor whispers something against Guillermo’s neck before biting down. The words are an unintelligible susurrous. He recognizes them as Al Quolanudarese. And though he’s incapable of parsing them, they feel like secret magic words. Words that finally pulverize the last brick in the wall between them. Guillermo knows their meaning in his bones, in his heart, in his soul.

       Nandor’s fangs pierce and bruise. His bite is brutal and honest. This is Nandor; no hiding, no subterfuge. He is violence and blood and frozen kisses. He is also the tender stroking of fingers along Guillermo’s tear-stained cheeks and the broken sob he makes an instant before the blood begins to flow. Guillermo’s eyes flutter shut and he fists his hands in the cape beneath him. Take me, take me, take me , he begs.

       Blood and body.

       He buries his hands in Nandor’s hair, cupping the crown of his head as nonsense prayers fall from his lips. He invokes every sacred symbol he knows. Nandor’s mouth; his tongue; his hands; his cock. The bedroom under the stairs. The candlelit crypt. The parking lot at the immigration office. The blood-stained robe from Celeste’s orgy. The ancestry reports. Wooden stakes and crucifixes. The claw-foot bathtub. Nandor’s hair oils. His coffin. Bubble gum and mason jars and flashcards and feather dusters and boot polish and ice chips and a portrait made from glitter: two men, impossibly hopeful, naive and in love.

       When Nandor finally retracts his fangs from Guillermo’s neck, he laps at the spilled blood, kissing the soft, torn skin with a grateful, remorseful, worshipful reverence. 

       “My Guillermo,” he cries over and over again, rocking his hips subconsciously and panting as their cocks slide against one another. When he draws up on his elbows Guillermo can see his blood marring those perfectly cruel lips and staining his full beard. His voice is thick with tears. “Your blood, Guillermo. It’s…”

       Guillermo nods, wiping Nandor’s cheeks even as his own tears fall into his hairline. “I know, Nandor. You’re mine now. Always.”

       The vampire bows his head, pressing his lips to Guillermo’s soft chest directly over his rapidly beating heart. “Your blood is rushing, Guillermo. So eager to give me your life.”

       Guillermo sighs, running his hands down the length of Nandor’s sides, squeezing his soft flanks and raising his hips to grind against him. 

       “And what are you eager to give me, Nandor?”

       Nandor brings his hand up to Guillermo’s neck and catches the blood that still flows there. He hovers over Guillermo, balancing on one elbow as he moves his other hand between them and slides his wet, bloody fingers into the cleft of Guillermo’s backside. Guillermo feels the slick of his lifeblood against his sensitive skin as Nandor’s fingers probe and press into his entrance. A shiver wracks his frame at the utter indecency, the absolute sacrilege. 

       “Fuck,” Guillermo hisses as the first finger breaches the tight ring of muscle and enters him. “God! Nandor, yes.”

       Nandor whimpers in gratitude at his human’s praise. He speaks absently, in the grips of religious ecstasy, “Let me show you, Guillermo. Please, let me show you.”

       Guillermo writhes and nods his head, arching his back as another finger joins the first. “Show me you love me, Nandor. Show me you fucking worship me.”

       A strangled growl fills the little grove and Nandor picks up the pace of his thrusting fingers, subtly rocking his erection against the tender skin of Guillermo’s thigh as he goes. His breath mingles with Guillermo’s as he leans in and presses their lips together in a slow, aching kiss. He inserts a third finger, stretching Guillermo out and swallowing the man’s groan.

       “Now, Nandor,” an echo of desperation and sorrow tinges his voice. Nandor scrambles to comply. He removes his fingers, kneeling between Guillermo’s spread legs and placing shaking hands on the insides of his generous thighs, steadying himself.  

       Nandor doesn’t speak, but the sound of his breathing might as well be a love letter. He’s panting, there’s a hitch in his breath, a tremor in his fingers. Guillermo feels the tip of him against his hole and he nearly sobs with relief and joy and loss and guilt and exasperation. Why now? After all these years? Why on the night of his mother’s funeral when he is ragged and raw? Why couldn’t they have had this when Guillermo was still young and so pitifully in love with Nandor that he was willing to tarnish his soul for the vampire’s convenience? He thinks these things with regret, with melancholy longing and wistfulness; but never with anger. 

       This is his Nandor and Guillermo will take him and cherish him until he is buried in the ground. Nandor presses forward, entering him inch by inch. Stars burst in Guillermo’s eyes and amidst the furious physical sensations, a feverish thought flits through his head. When Guillermo is dead he wants to be buried in this very spot, in the soil beneath their naked bodies, on the site of their long-delayed consummation. The idea should repulse him, or sadden him, but instead it just feels right. He pictures Nandor visiting his grave every Sunday for the rest of the time and cants his hips, taking the vampire deeper as the blood trickles from his neck and his cock smears precum onto his belly. 

       Their bodies move together in a rhythm that’s both familiar and wonderfully new. They cling, claw, grab and stroke. Nandor’s length fills Guillermo; the vampire’s fingers wrap around Guillermo’s rigid cock and pump him as he thrusts. The words that fall from their lips are a heady, nonsensical, sacred blend of Spanish, Al Quolanudarese and English. Love is only the beginning. This is yearning, devotion, allegiance, becoming, undoing, transforming. Nandor is god is Guillermo is Nandor. They are whole for the first time in their lives. 

       The climax takes them both at the same time. Guillermo sobs, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as Nandor roars above him. Nandor spills his plentiful vampiric seed inside of him as Guillermo’s cum shoots out in hot ropes that paint his and Nandor’s bellies. He lets his softening cock fall from Guillermo’s body as he collapses down, pillowing his head on Guillermo’s chest and gasping for air that he doesn’t need. Guillermo cards his fingers through his hair and weeps. 

       He’s crying for the boy he once was. The one who loved his amá and wanted to make her proud. The boy who fell in love with a demon. The boy who dreamed and hoped and prayed and was disappointed. He’s crying for Nandor, too, who has lived for centuries without ever allowing himself to acknowledge the soft animal of his own emotions. And he’s crying for his amá, whose heart he broke for a decade and who never, ever stopped believing in him even when he came home at the age of 30, jobless, soulless, and ruined.

       Nandor nuzzles his cheek against Guillermo’s sparsely-haired chest, pressing kisses into his sweat-slick skin and tracing patterns over his stomach with long, elegant fingers. 

       “I can hear your heartbeat, Guillermo,” he whispers. “Did you know I could always hear your heartbeat? It’s not usual. I mean, yes, of course vampires have super hearing, but we learn to tune all that out, you know? But never with you, my Guillermo. I listened to every beat of your little heart for eleven years. I was so afraid one day it would stop…”

       In the soft, sacred dark Guillermo can finally ask the question, “Then why didn’t you ever turn me? You could’ve had me forever, immortal. Why, Nandor?”

       Nandor sits up and his eyes glow as he looks down at Guillermo, a frown in his voice, “I didn’t want it to stop, Guillermo. I didn’t want to be the one to...make it stop.”

       Guillermo shuts his eyes and they are quiet for a long, long time. He holds Nandor in his arms. The chill of the night air finally affects him and he shivers once. Nandor grabs the edge of the cape and pulls it over Guillermo to shield him. They lay beside each other, touching, breathing, listening. Guillermo traces the outline of Nandor’s lips, letting his finger dip inside his mouth and feeling the sharp edge of his fangs. Nandor allows it. Of course he does. He could not deny Guillermo anything. Not in this place. Not anywhere else, either. The knowledge settles in his veins, flows through him like Guillermo’s blood.

       “Guillermo,” Nandor begins, drawing out the last syllable like he used to. “It is not too late…”

       It’s a statement and a question. Guillermo holds his breath, waiting for the vampire to elaborate, but Nandor remains silent. A moment later he feels Nandor’s cold skin pressed to his lips. There’s warmth there, too, borrowed from his body. He tastes blood as Nandor presses his wrist firmly to Guillermo’s mouth.

       “It’s not too late,” he repeats. 

“May this mingling of the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, bring eternal life to us who receive it.”

[bgn846]

Old Wounds - FFXV fanfic

Summary: Ignis works to figure out how he can incorporate befriending a maralith into his busy schedule. Noct may have something to say about it, and it might not be good.

Work Text:          

“You can’t be serious?!” Noct all but yelled. “He’s dangerous, you can’t go back. One of those things almost killed me, remember?”

Ignis took a deep breath through his nose and waited to make sure Noct wasn’t going to say anything else.  “I understand that highness, but there is a chance he may come looking for me if I don’t make an appearance soon.”

“I’m glad you didn’t get hurt, I – I don’t know what I would have done if something --,” Noct paused and looked away. “I just can’t bear the thought of you around that thing.”

“Understood,” Ignis replied with a forced smile. After his ordeal with the maralith, Gladiolus, a month ago, Ignis wasn’t in the mood to push things. He’d had enough nightmares to last him a lifetime already, he didn’t really need to add to them.

Gathering his paperwork he stood and exited Noct’s private meeting rooms. Talking about the incident brought back all the memories like it was yesterday. Ignis thought he was going to die out in the field that day. No one expects to come back from being captured by a maralith, especially one that takes you to his cave where no one can attempt a rescue.

Shoving aside the emotions it stirred, Ignis made his way to his next meeting. He’d become a bit of a celebrity since his return. The crownsguard that had survived a maralith attack and lived to speak of it, that’s what people said. The chatter seemed to follow him through the halls, but Ignis was getting tired of hearing it. Noct had been attacked and barely survived. Ignis didn’t hear anyone at the citadel talking about Noct in awe. It didn’t seem fair in a way, the prince deserved recognition for his plight, and he’d been closer to death’s door than Ignis had.

Though nearly drowning and freezing to death hadn’t been a fun experience either, shuddering at the memory Ignis hurried along the corridor. The sooner he could put this all behind him the better. Though, he did feel a small bubble of guilt for having lied to the monster. Offering to go back and see him made sense at the time. Ignis hadn’t wanted to anger the maralith.

No matter how bad it made him feel, Noct was resolute in his opinion. The prince didn’t want Ignis to see Gladiolus again. Praying that the monster would forget him was wishful thinking, Ignis had a feeling the maralith wouldn’t stay silent forever. Sighing heavily Ignis tried to clear his head, he had work to do.

It was one week later that Ignis received a frantic summons in the middle of a meeting. The guard who came to collect him was practically running as they made their way to the kings’ office. All Ignis had been told was something had happened that required his immediate attention. Most of his fears were laid to rest when he was ushered into the space and saw Regis and Noct in attendance along with Cor and Clarus.  

“What’s happened?” Ignis asked once the guard left.

“The maralith has made an appearance,” Cor offered as he stepped forward to hand Ignis a tablet.

“Is this security footage?”

“Yes, from the nearest outpost to his cave,” Cor replied.

“Oh dear, has he hurt anyone?” Ignis couldn’t bear it if the maralith had killed someone due to his actions.

“No, he’s been blocking the road though, and yelling your name, loudly.”

Groaning Ignis ducked his head, this wasn’t how he’d hoped his afternoon would go. Looking over at the prince revealed the young man staring resolutely at the floor. “What would you have me do?” Ignis asked glumly.

“It’d probably be best if you could talk to him, you were able t--.”

“No! I won’t let Iggy go back out there, he could get hurt, like me,” Noct lamented.

Ignis chose to stay silent; he’d already had enough arguments with Noct over this very subject. The battle was not his to win anymore.

“Highness, with all due respect to your past history, this maralith isn’t like any other I’ve seen,” Cor tried with a sad face. “We don’t know what it’ll do if he doesn’t see Ignis.”

“What if it’s a trick,” Noct uttered softly. “What if he just wants to hurt Ignis this time?”

“Son, have you heard Ignis’ account of what happened?” Regis asked.

Noct turned towards his father and shook his head. “I couldn’t, I didn’t want to think of Ignis being attacked like I was.”

“His situation was different than yours, perhaps if you hear what Ignis has to say on the matter you may change your mind. Not all things are in black and white,” Regis finished.

“I know that!” Noct hissed but he still had a hard look on his face.

Ignis was stunned to hear that Noct still hadn’t gotten all the details of what had occurred. The prince had always left the room when he was retelling his story, and Ignis had figured he would at least read the report later. Apparently, Noct had done nothing of the sort and instead remained fearful. It pained Ignis to no end that his friend and liege couldn’t even stand to hear his account due to the suffering it caused. “I’m so sorry Noct, I didn’t think my struggles would cause you such grief,” Ignis added after a moment of silence.

“Whoa! I’m not upset with you Ignis! Shit, no, um – gah!” Noct gave up trying to finish his sentence and threw his head back into the sofa cushion.

“Might you be up for hearing what happened?” Regis asked quietly.

Noct took a few minutes to respond, “fine.”

Without pause, Ignis retold the one part of the story he assumed Noct would care about, the moment where Gladiolus had saved him, first from drowning and second from hypothermia.

“Wait? The snake man actually saved you?” Noct asked incredulously.

“Yes, and I do understand your reservations about me seeing him again, but I fear he may get violent if I don’t make this effort,” Ignis pleaded.

“I’m not sending you out there alone!” Noct proclaimed.

Ignis could hear Cor sighing heavily in the background, along with Clarus. The two were not happy with this new development, but what choice did they have. If Ignis had been unable to win an argument with Noct over this subject then they certainly weren’t going to fare any better.

“I suppose we should get a move on, the longer we keep this maralith waiting the more agitated he could become,” Regis announced as he stood up slowly.

“Hold on, you aren’t going!” Clarus sputtered indigently.

The king laughed humorlessly as he grabbed his cane and began walking towards the door. “If you think I’m going to let my son go anywhere near a maralith without sussing out the situation first, you’re crazy Clarus.”

--

Ignis could feel his adrenaline spiking as he got out of the car nearly an hour later. They’d made it to the checkpoint and Gladiolus was clearly visible on the other side of the fence. It was obvious he could have smashed through easily. For him to hold back was promising.

As he approached the gate Gladiolus saw him and rushed forward, knocking over the guards in his way. In a surprising move, the maralith vaulted his long body over the fence and landed with a significant thud directly in front of Ignis.

The monster didn’t wait for permission this time as he scooped Ignis up and glared at him. Thankfully, this time the hold wasn’t tight and Ignis’ arms were free. The distant cries of people shouting things about being on standby and hold your fire made Ignis heart beat faster. Before he could think of what to say Gladiolus offered his opinion.

“Liar!” he accused while reaching out a hand to lift Ignis’ chin slightly.

“I’ve got a job to do Gladiolus, I can’t come out here all the time.”

“Liar,” he grumbled again.

Sighing heavily Ignis wondered what he could say to appease the giant temperamental snake man. “I’m truly sorry for not coming sooner.”

“Why?” Gladiolus asked as he removed his finger from under Ignis’ chin.

Honesty was the best policy, right? Ignis felt a little bad at having to resort to tattling, but this maralith was too smart to be trifled with.  “My boss forbade me from coming.”

Gladiolus scrunched up his face and curled his lip slightly. “Non scitis sermo.”

Thinking fast Ignis understood that Gladiolus probably didn’t have a need for the word boss in his life. “Uh, master? King?” When the maraliths’ frown turned into a smirk he knew he’d figured it out.  

“Maneat?” the maralith asked as his shoulders relaxed.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to stay, my master gets nervous with your kind.”

“Why?” Gladiolus demanded.

“He was attacked by a maralith and almost died when he was younger,” Ignis replied in a soft voice so Noct wouldn’t hear. The king and his son were only a few yards away. Regis had adopted a somewhat familiar fighting stance, and Noct was visibly shaking.

“Dicite mihi in nomen! Ego nocere esi,” Gladiolus fumed, his frown was back.

Ignis wasn’t sure exactly what the maralith had said, but he was quickly trying to translate. His refresher course in ancient solheimian over the past few weeks hadn’t been for naught. Going out on a limb Ignis repeated what he thought Gladiolus had said. “You want the name of the maralith, right? The one that hurt my friend?”

Gladiolus nodded and balled up one of his fists, shaking it around towards the sky. “Ego nocere esi!”

“You want to do something to them?”

“Malum, hurt,” he finished with a pout.  

“I think it might help for him to hear that, do you think you could put me down for a moment?” Ignis tried to resituate himself, but one of his legs was bent underneath a massive hand and the other was sticking out in between Gladiolus fingers. He must have looked ridiculous fidgeting in the monster's grasp.

“Maneat?”

“Yes, I’ll stay this time, I’m not leaving.”

Gladiolus nodded and then gently lowered Ignis to the ground. His hands remained bracketed around him until he stood up straight. How this monster knew his knees were pudding was a mystery. Carefully pushing the maraliths’ hands to the side he approached Noctis.

“We’re leaving!” he spit out.

Ignis held up his hand, “highness, may I please just ask you to be patient with me? I’d like to tell you what he just said.”

“You can talk to him?”

Nodding Ignis waited for Noct to look directly at him. “He’s just offered to go hurt the maralith that attacked you.”

“Why?!” Noct asked in surprise.

“Would you like me to ask him?” Before Noct could answer Ignis turned around and looked up at Gladiolus. “My friend wishes to know why you would offer to hurt the one that attacked him.”

“Et nocuerunt tua, familia. Non est bonum.”

“What’d he say?” Noct asked quickly as he walked up to stand nearby.

“I believe he’s saying that the other maralith hurt my family and that’s bad.”

Noct looked slightly stunned by that comment. “He doesn’t know me at all, why would he say that?”

“Ignis amans mei,” Gladiolus offered calmly like it was the most reasonable explanation.

“Huh, what does that mean?” the prince asked innocently.

Of course, this was the exact time that Regis decided this maralith wasn’t a threat and strode forward to answer his son’s question. “I believe the maralith thinks Ignis is his lover.”

Ignis could feel heat pooling in his cheeks at the admission. He didn’t know why it would be so embarrassing to hear spoken out loud. It wasn’t like he felt the same way back.

“Um, what? How the hell would that even work?” Noct asked risking a glance that wasn’t anywhere near Gladiolus' face.

“Don’t continue that train of thought Noctis Lucis Caelum. Or I will cook you nothing but vegetables for a solid month.”

Noct clamped his mouth shut and scooted closer as if to say sorry.

“Dicere illud nomine!” Gladiolus requested suddenly as he bent down to look at them better.

“This is my friend Noctis,” Ignis replied as he put an arm around the princes’ shoulder.

“No, nomine alio.” The maralith looked a little desperate.

This time the king stepped closer and repeated their family name. “We are of the family Lucis Caelum. I am called Regis and this is my son Noctis.”

Gladiolus furrowed his brow and squinted at Noctis. “Vultus amo Somnus.”

“Yes, he does look like the founder king, it’s true,” Ignis said calmly.

“No, est Somnus,” Gladiolus energetically replied gesturing towards Noct’s face. “Est Somnus.”

Ignis could feel the blood draining from his face, if he understood Gladiolus correctly that would mean he’d actually seen Somnus in his lifetime.  Since the maralith seemed to think Noct was Somnus.

“Er, Somnus died several thousand years ago Gladiolus. This is his descendent.”

The maralith furrowed his brow and began silently counting on his many fingers. “Milia?”

“Yes, thousands, have you lost track of time?”

Gladiolus nodded and frowned. He seemed deep in thought until Regis broke the silence.

“Perhaps we could move this meeting to someplace more comfortable?” the king suggested kindly.

The maralith immediately straightened up and pointed back toward his cave in the mountains. He seemed excited by that prospect.

“There is a perfectly good outbuilding near the guard station. I believe it would be spacious enough to fit you.”

--

Trying to teach English to a two thousand-year-old maralith was easier than Ignis expected. Mainly because he understood the language already and simply hadn’t known how to pronounce things. Surprisingly Regis and Noct had stayed during the impromptu language lesson. The outbuilding had been large enough to pull their car into so the king had opted to take a nap in the front passenger seat. Noct meanwhile sat in the backseat with the window rolled down staring at them.

Ignis could tell Noct was still nervous, but he hoped it would help to see him interact with Gladiolus in a good way. The maralith had been on his best behavior. It probably helped that Ignis let Gladiolus hold him during their lesson. The maralith’s tail was curled around them both protectively as he sat on Gladiolus' hand like some giant warm squishy bench.

Soon enough the sun had fully set and Ignis knew they’d need to get back home. “I’m afraid it’s time for us to go back to the city.”

“No.” Gladiolus pouted.

“Come now, it can’t be that bad when we leave?”

“Lonely,” the maralith answered.

Knowing he couldn’t promise to come back until Noct had given him his blessing, Ignis thought of what he could say to help make Gladiolus feel better. “Shall we ask the king if I can come back to teach you more?”

“Yes! I want that,” Gladiolus agreed with a hopeful look.

The sound of a car door opening caused Ignis to look over, Noct was carefully walking closer. “Do you promise not to hurt anyone?”

“Et iusiurandum dant, I give oath.”

“No tricks, right?” Noct questioned seriously, looking very much like his father in the process.

Gladiolus shook his head and smiled. “I will see Ignis again, this makes me happy.”

“Okay, I’m alright with you coming out here to meet. Just please be careful.” That last statement was directed towards him and not the maralith.

“Curam, tutum,” Gladiolus added earnestly. “Ignis safe, I no hurt.”

“I won’t hurt,” Ignis corrected.

The maralith beamed at him and nodded.

“Very well, do you think you could tell the guards at the station that you wish to see me without blocking the road next time?”

“Yes, bring me Ignis,” Gladiolus offered with a grin.

Unwilling to correct the maralith Ignis nodded and stood up. “I’ve got to get home and rest, perhaps in a few days you can come to ask for me?”

“Yes, I do that, tomorrow.”

“No, let’s make it three days from now.”

“No lie?”

“No I’m not lying, three days from now I’ll be ready to come back here, just be kind to the guards.”

“I will, go safely Ignis.”

“And you as well,” he offered. Then in a move that would surely be his downfall later, Gladiolus bent down and kissed the top of his head. Momentarily stunned by the action Ignis didn’t do anything as the maralith uncoiled his tail and slithered off. Complete with a devilish smirk. The tricky bastard even turned back briefly just to say ‘amans mei’ before disappearing.

“Ignis, did the snake man just kiss you?” Noct asked a little breathlessly.

“Veggies, Noct, lots of them if you tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?” Noct answered before rushing back to the car to wake his father.

Cor was by his side a moment later, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m – I – shit, Cor I don’t know, this is all very overwhelming.”  

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Take things a step at a time. Not sure what you can do if he tries to kiss you again though.”

“Marshal, six help me, don’t start.”

“I would never dream of it Ignis. I’m here to help. Might I suggest a trip to the archives to see if anyone else has been caught in the sights of an amorous maralith?”

Now that idea Ignis could run with, this had to have happened before! Hopefully, someone wrote down their life story and Ignis would find it. Though he wasn’t sure his luck would run that way. For now, he had a budding friendship with a maralith. Noct wasn’t stopping it and Gladiolus seemed to behave well enough. Time would tell what happened next.  

[therainbowwillow]

https://therainbowwillow.tumblr.com/post/639917088173113344/alright-its-been-a-hot-second-since-ive-written -Part 1

Okay, Hadestown Fanfic With Crossovers Where Orpheus’s Terms are Different and Also ✨Olympus Drama✨Part 2/???

I think my greatest struggle in writing is... posting it. And deciding on a consistent plot. That too. Expect changes. Edit: Well, well, well, there’s a draft feature on this website? I might just migrate to Tumblr.

I may make an overview post at some point so you don’t actually have to read this. A long TL;DR probably, because it is written by Miss What-Is-Concise. My TL;DRs need TL;DRs of their own. Anyway, I’m rambling, so let me actually get started.

Preemptive:

-Orpheus is Apollo’s kid in this version, as he is in many retellings. He is raised by Hermes.

-Hermes works for Hades, bringing souls to the underworld. He resides away from Olympus to fulfill said duties.

-Dionysus’ parentage is by Persephone and Hades. (Because there’s no way Persephone’s screwing Zeus in the other room. Also this is his more underworld-connected family ties.)

-You drink from the River Lethe, according to some ancient authors, to forget your past life. And if Virgil can blatantly rip off Homer, I’m stealing ideas too.

-Would you look at that? This “short” AU fic is expanding by the minute. Hades and Persephone’s are true to the musical and that’s about it at this point.

Eurydice drags Orpheus to his feet. He leans against her. “Eurydice...” he mumbles. “I... I’m so sorry.”

“I signed my life away. That wasn’t up to you. We need to get going.”

Orpheus nods. “Why’s he letting us go? I don’t remember... anything really. I sang. Then I...” he turns away. “It felt like I was sitting in a fire. I couldn’t sing, I couldn’t think. It was unbearable.”

“I’ll never let them lay a finger on you again.”

“You didn’t answer me. Why’s he letting us go?” he asks, softly.

“He’s not,” Persephone mutters. “He wants you to fail. Then he’ll have a canary for his mines.”

Orpheus shudders at the thought. “My song... I thought... Persephone, I think I rewrote every note a hundred times. I lost the love of my life for that melody. And... it failed.”

“Just walk, okay? Please. Once we’re out of here, none of it matters,” Eurydice pleads.

“H-how far?” He’s almost afraid to ask. The original walk had been a grueling task. This one, he thinks, might be a hundred times harder. Whatever Hades had done to him... the effects hadn’t faded. Eurydice must already think he’s a selfish, naive, worthless idiot, he’s certain, so he plans to stay quiet. Unless it gets bad. Only if he needs to tell her, he decides.

“A mile, maybe a little more,” Persephone replies. “We’ll rest in my old greenhouse. It’ll be a roof over our heads at least. Don’t look back,” she warns. “Hades’ servants will follow us. Don’t give them a reason to think we’re afraid.”

Eurydice wraps and arm around Orpheus’s waist. “Tell me if you need a break.” He nods.

———————————

Hades sinks into his office chair. A painting of his wife hangs on the wall. He’s posing at her side. They’re smiling. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers. He rises and storms over to the portrait. He rips it of the wall and it crumples to the ground, torn in two.

He glances out the window. He’s viewing his realm from the highest point in Hadestown. The landscape is as flat as a sheet of paper. No hills, no mountains, only rivers, flowing by some force that is not the gravity of the overworld. His tower is the only peak. And the smokestacks of his factories.

This is his realm. All of it is his. Every inch of dirt, every scrap of metal and gemstone beneath the ground. Every sullen face of every tortured worker who’d sold his soul away. The wall is his too. And the Styx, which wraps it 7 times over. He’s a king and his castle is protected by the highest of palisades and yet... that boy... that son of Apollo had taken it all from him. What is a king without his iron fists? Now he had shown softness, now he’d shown weakness. A crack in the wall will bring the whole structure down, he thinks to himself. But what else can he do? Persephone is his wife. She is *his*. To imagine a thousand winters and springs and summers without her...

The underworld is lonely. He cannot lose her. But he cannot let the boy escape. Nor his lover, nor his traitorous workers. If he shows them an inch, they’ll take a mile. Worse, the traitors were right. Orpheus is alive. Orpheus is not his. That poet is all that stands in the way of his kingdom. And like any barrier, he will fall. How? Hades wonders. How can he kill the boy, break his spirit and punish him without losing Persephone? What blinds his wife? he asks himself. That silly little song had manipulated him, taken hold of his heart like alcohol. And Persephone loves it. She believes, truly believes, that Orpheus deserves to live for the very reason he must die.

Hades slams his fists against the window. Perhaps she was right. He ought to follow in his brothers’ footsteps. Forget his wife. That simple action would be enough to fix everything. If he let her go, she’d have nothing to hold over him. He wouldn’t be her puppet. He’d kill Orpheus, chain up the boy’s foolish lover and send Achilles and Patroclus to the darkest mines, and force them to work day and night apart from each other. Sure, the bunch of them would whine like kenneled puppies, but he could take their cries. They’d forget everything if he could get them to drink from the Lethe. Orpheus would be easy. Threaten his pretty little muse and he’d be scrambling to his knees. Eurydice would be nothing without her poet. Achilles would resist. He’d fight a millennia before he or his lover bowed before their king. But they too would fall.

Only Persephone stands in the way, he knows. He likes to imagine he has her under his control. But he knows it’s a lie. The food of the underworld she’d eaten, it didn’t confine her as well as he’d hoped. Sure, her time above ground would be made unbearable, but she would still be out of his grasp. She could leave. She would leave. He knows her threats aren’t empty. So he’ll find a way around her. He needs her to come back. Without Persephone’s warmth, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He watches the crowd of shades begin to disperse and it dawns on him. Orpheus gives them hope, but he makes them afraid. How many deceased reside in Hadestown? It’d take a hundred thousand mortal lifetimes to count. And how many had stepped forward to help the poet boy? Two. Among that crowd, he knew, were great heroes. Heroes who once resided in Elysium. And still, only two shades had betrayed him. Two out of a trillion. Hades smiles. He won’t need to kill Orpheus. One of his workers can take the fall. Even Achilles won’t succeed in standing against an army the size of his. And Hades will win. His wife will see that some dead man has killed the singer to appease his king. She’ll suspect, but without proof, what does she have on him? Eurydice will see she has no choice. Once the boy belongs to him, Orpheus is his to manipulate. She’ll be trapped. Achilles, for all of his strength, is nothing alone. Without his dear Patroclus, he’ll give in. And so Hades plots.

————————————

Hermes, god of roads and messages, receives word of his adoptive son’s predicament with astounding speed. And he fears for Orpheus. But Hermes guides souls to the underworld, to Hades. To betray the king of Hadestown by helping the boy would be to lose his work and by extension, his freedom to live on the railroad. Without an excuse, he’d be back on Olympus, listening to Zeus and Hera’s endless bickering, watching Ares and Aphrodite humiliate themselves, and helping Dionysus comfort Apollo over the death of the mortal pretty boy of the week. And they wonder why Artemis avoids the damn place at all costs. In fact, he’s stuck on Olympus right now, called to the counsel by Zeus? Athena? He can’t remember. Some mortal breaking some rule.

Orpheus is more important than the meeting. His messenger had interrupted the counsel meeting to bring him word of the poor boy’s situation. He’s not sure how to cover this one up. No one was meant to interrupt important matters as this. Plus, he’d given the kid directions straight into Hadestown, which was the opposite of what his contract with Hades had said. He wasn’t allowed to barter for the return of mortal souls and he wasn’t allowed to assist mortals in doing the same.

“Hermes!” Zeus booms. “What is the meaning of this?”

He rolls his eyes. “Begone, messenger.” He slips a note into the man’s hands: ‘Tell Orpheus I’m coming.’ “Nothing, father. Just... matters of work. You know how Hades is. And don’t get me started on Thanatos! I’m late by half a second and-“

“Enough! I’ve half a mind to banish you from this counsel.” Hermes smiles. His excuses have succeeded.

Dionysus laughs, considerably beyond tipsy on his own wine. “You mind if I go too? I’m sick of this awful alcohol and I’ve got something far better back home.”

“Dionysus, wasn’t there an agreement we made?” Athena inquires, icily. “You cannot come to our meetings drunk.”

He smiles. “Well, you see,” he snaps his fingers and shakes his head, washing away his intoxication. “I didn’t come drunk. I *got* drunk while here.” He raises a flask and shakes it, refilling the canteen instantly. “There’s a difference.”

Athena grits her teeth. “Father, one more of these counsels and I swear...”

“And husband,” Hera pipes up, “We were going to address that nymph girl you’re always hanging around?”

Zeus flushes a deep shade of red. “Out. All of you. We’re done here.”

Hermes rises, forcing himself to keep his composure, at least until he’s out of sight. He steps into the sunlight that dazzles Olympus, treks the road to the edge of the mortal realm and... “Hermes?”

“Gods have mercy,” he mutters. He turns. “Apollo.” The god is puffy-eyed, probably from crying. Even Hermes had to agree, his latest lover had been gorgeous. Hyacinthus, was his name, if he remembered correctly. Apollo himself had called the counsel to beg for mortality when the boy had died and he hadn’t found another for what? Seventeen years? Spare for Orpheus’s muse mother, of course. Still, this was unusual, even for Apollo’s mellow dramatic self.

“You’re afraid.”

“Don’t... don’t do that, would you?” Hermes snaps, recoiling. “Yeah, yeah, medicine and all, but I don’t want you telling me what I’m thinking.”

Apollo dips his head in acknowledgment. “It’s my son, isn’t it?”

Hermes shakes his head. One word to Zeus and... all Prometheus did was hand over a spark. This was treason. “No, just work.”

Apollo tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

“What cause would I have for lies? I cannot keep Hades waiting, now.” He whirls away from Apollo’s gaze.

“Perhaps... treason?” Apollo inquires. Hermes’s eyes widen.

“Strong accusations.” He forces his voice not to shake.

“I won’t turn you in.” Liar, Hermes thinks. He wants to get on Zeus’s good side. A chance at getting his lover boy back.

“Correct. You wouldn��t have anything to turn me in for,” he tells the son of Leto.

“Orpheus’s wife... no, fiancée. No... I don’t know! The girl. She’s dead. Orpheus’s song is a failure. I heard it from Olympus. Lovely, really. But not nearly enough to convince Hades to let her go. Nothing is.”

Hermes turns again to face his half-brother. “Keep your voice down, would you? If Zeus hears a word of this-“

Apollo cuts him off. “And you helped him. You broke your contract and you know Hades better than anyone, other than Persephone, if they still talk these days. He’s crueler than he once was. They say Elysium itself is no more, that there’s only Tartarus now. You’re afraid of his wrath. And you’re afraid of Zeus. He’ll punish you too. You saw what he did to Asclepius. Struck by lightning for treason against Hades. And that was before this... winter,” he says, softer now.

“I don’t want a lecture, Apollo. What do you want?” Hermes glares at the god.

“I want a deal.”

Hermes narrows his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

“You break me in to the underworld-“

“No. I’m in enough danger as is.”

“Hear me out.”

“I said no!” Hermes steps back onto the road. Apollo grabs his wrist.

“I can get you out of trouble. Dionysus!” The wine god steps out of the woods.

“I’m due to visit my mother. Hades won’t prevent me from entering his realm, I’m his son,” Dionysus explains. “You and Apollo are there on Demeter’s ask to learn why Persephone is late. You, because you’re the god of messages and Apollo because he was available, on leave from his duties to mourn.”

Hermes groans. “The walk is far. Even if you’re me. Days on end of moping and drunken ramblings for a plan almost certain to backfire? I said no.”

Apollo smiles. “Then I’ll turn you in,” he says simply.

“You won’t. Orpheus is your blood. You’d put him in more danger. He knew of my contract and he let me break it. You’d add a charge against him. And it’s me. You cared once, didn’t you?”

“You know I would. You said so yourself. I visited the poet boy twice, maybe. And you? Ask yourself: when was the last time you optionally visited Olympus? But Hyacinthus, I loved for years. If I turn you in, I’m one step closer to him. On Zeus’s good side again.” Hermes shifts on his feet. “It’ll be good to have a doctor at the boy’s side too, seeing as your instructions just about starved him to death.”

Hermes glares at him. “Don’t.”

“You know it’s true. So? Let’s go or you trade places with Prometheus.”

“Fine,” he mutters, through a clenched jaw.

“Good. Now, this is on our terms, Hermes. I will aid your son because you’ve always been good to me and because he is my blood. If he gets in my way, he belongs to Hades.”

[killiansprincss]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan Characters: Emma Swan, Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Neal Nolan, Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard, Prince Charming | David Nolan, Alexandra (Once Upon a Time), Phillip II (Once Upon a Time), Original Female Character(s), Robin | Margot Additional Tags: Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Curses, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emma Grows Up Happy, Evil Queen curses Emma, season 6 AU, Angst, Magic, Hurt, Canon Divergence Chapters 1|2|3|4|5| okay here is chapter 6 of my Neverland fanfic! I hope you enjoy please leave me a comment on A03 I’d really appreciate it!

I also have a collage for my story below, ignore the badly photoshopped Alex Pettyfer as Neal Nolan! 

Emma woke up on the morning of her 28th birthday and she felt like she had a hangover even though she hadn't been drinking. In fact, it was worse than a hangover because she had woken up with 2 lives inside of her head.

But it wasn’t like in New York, because that life was based on a lie and false memories, she actually had lived 2 lives. One as a daughter, a sister, a friend, and another as. Well, as an orphan.

Henry, and Killian. The two missing mystery men. No wonder she was dreaming of those two the most, as she had no clue where they were. The two most important men in her life and she was clueless as to where to begin looking for them. Hopefully, her parents would have the answers.

Her house. With the white picket fence, with a view of the water.

The two people missing from it were the ones who chose it.

How could this have happened? Things were going so well, the three of them were finally starting to be a family when the Queen ripped that away from them. She searches in her jewellery box that she’s looked through every day, hoping the one thing she wants is in there. Necklaces and bracelets and rings she’s received from her parents and friends over the years. It’s not there she thinks to herself.

But then, at the bottom of the pile, it's there. Liam’s ring, the one Killian gave her back in Camelot all those years ago. She takes the silver ring on the chain and feels a sense of relief as she puts it over her head. She was going to find them, and bring them home.

The drive to her parents’ house, despite it only being less than a 5-minute drive, felt like a lifetime. She kept going over in her head(s) what was happening right now, she was meant to be celebrating her birthday with her parents and younger brother, the way they do every year, but now she was finding it strange that she had a family to do this. She was an orphan who found her family at 28, but she wasn’t really an orphan now. Or was she?

She knocks on the door to her parents house, expecting a huge Happy Birthday banner and for them to sing, but instead her father has the sorrowful look in his eyes when he opens the door. There’s no ‘Happy Birthday’ because he obviously knew what was coming.

“I remember,” is all she says as she just starts to cry.

The old Emma, the orphan would never cry, especially in front of her parents, but the girl who grew up with a family cried over the stupidest things

“Come in, we'll talk all about it.” David says putting his arm around her leading her inside.

Wiping her tears away she asks, “what happened?”

David and Snow look at one another trying to figure out the best way to explain the situation. “The Evil Queen, she said turning you into a toddler was the best way to get to each of us.” They begin to explain, going through all the details of how they eventually captured the Queen using squid Ink and how Regina has sacrificed herself to save everyone.

“Wh-what about Henry and Killian?” Emma asks when they’ve finished.

Snow takes a deep breath before saying, “we don’t know. When it happened they ran off to another realm we think, we haven’t heard from them since it happened.”

Emma looks like she could be sick, or faint, or both.

Seeing her face David quickly adds, “they’re safe though don’t worry. We believe Gold had a hand in wherever they escaped to, we can go ask him.”

“No-“ she cuts them off, “I’ll go. Just me. Henry’s my son and I have no idea where he is, I haven’t been his mother for 25 years.”

“Emma, you didn’t have a choice. He forgives you for putting him up for adoption, of course he’ll forgive you for not being there when you were under a curse.” Snow tells her, caught off guard by her sudden attitude-the Emma she raised would never do something this important alone. She was going to have to get used to the fact that the Emma she didn’t raise was seeping back in, the one who liked to work alone. The Orphan.

“Before you go beat up Gold to find out where Henry is,” David says, giving her a large rectangular box, “I thought you might want this.”

Emma takes the box, and slowly opens it to reveal her red leather jacket. Her armour. She hasn’t needed her armour growing up with a family, but now…

She took off her armour when she realised she wanted a future with Killian. But now, she didn’t know if there was a future with him.

_______

She decides to walk to Golds shop. Feeling slightly betrayed by everyone she needs the fresh air. That is until she bumps into her best friend Alex.

“Happy Birthday Emma!” She screams and hugs as she sees her. “I know it’s only a Tuesday but I was thinking tonight we can go drinking at the Rabbit Hole, like I’m working there until 8 and then I have tomorrow off,” she starts babbling, Emma feels so mean but all she can think about is Henry and getting him back.

“I can’t, I need to find my son. I need to find him I don’t know.” She starts to ramble, she knows Alex won’t understand, but she can’t think straight.

Alex looks perplexed, “I’m confused, you don’t have a son? Emma are you feeling okay?”

“No!” She cries, “nothing in my life is real, none of this. It’s all lies I don’t.”

Alex takes Emma’s hand, “Em. It’s okay. I’m your best friend, I’ve known you for your whole life, whatever you’re going though I’m here.”

“No that’s the problem, you don’t know me. At all. My life, growing up with you, it’s all based on a lie.” As soon as Emma said it, she knew it came out wrong.

Letting go of her hand Alex replies, “okay well if that’s how you feel then forget it. I was only trying to help. So much for being best friends.” And storms away, hurt by what Emma said.

She tried to call after her, but it was no use. And plus even if she tried to explain what was going on she wouldn’t believe it.

___

Standing outside of the Pawn Shop is strange. She had been inside many times before in her past life, but not once in the past 25 years. She stands outside for a moment debating what to say, but in the end she just storms inside. She sees the dark one inside in all his horrific glory, despite not having aged much he still looks awful.

“Where the hell is my son Gold?” She demands.

“Why Miss Nolan, I didn’t realise you had a son?” Emma rolls her eyes, the typical Dark One avoiding the question at hand.

“Don’t play dumb okay. Henry. Your grandson. Where. Is. He?” She demands again.

He finally looks up from his books. “Ah, has it been 25 years already? Well I believe birthday wishes are in order!”

Emma sighs, this isn’t going to be easy. “Look. My parents told me Henry and Killian made some kind of deal with you after what happened to me. They’re in some other realm or something, I want to know where, and how you can get them back.”

“Well I told them where they could go. Doesn’t mean they’re still there. As for getting them back, I’m afraid you’ll have to do that yourself.” He explains.

“Okay then do something to find them.” She practically yells at him.

“Blood magic can be used to find your son, for your one handed pirate lover I'm afraid there’s no way of finding him.” Emma’s heart sinks, but she knows Henry is the most important person to find right now.

He reaches under the counter to grab something, part of Emma wishes she had her gun but at the same time she knew that wouldn’t work on him, and her parents probably got rid of that a long time ago. It’s the same white atlas-like ball he used to locate Henry when he was kidnapped by Pans' minions.

“Before you do anything, if that’s a locator spell we are using my blood. Forgive me if I don’t trust you, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you do anything.” She tells him.

He nods in understanding. Emma gives her hand over and he and he pricks it on the top of the globe, slowly releasing her finger onto the white globe and the blood rushes around forming different shapes until they finally form one shape and glow.

“What does that mean?” She asks.

He smirks, “why it’s Neverland dearie.”

The pit of Emma’s stomach gurgled, and it wasn’t because she hasn’t eaten anything today.

Neverland.

Where Henry was taken the first time. Also the place where she finally admitted to herself that she felt something for Killian, and where he told her after kissing her he saw himself loving someone again.

It was where she accepted the fact she was an orphan, a lost girl.

“So do you have a magic bean or something?” She asks, ignoring her overwhelming thoughts inside her head.

The Dark one just laughs, “you think if I had an endless supply to magic beans I would still live here?”

Emma just glares at him, “so how do I get there? What happened to the wand you had? It created portals before?”

“That wand was lost a long time ago. As for portals, you and your brother are born of the truest love, your powers are of the strongest light magic. You created a portal once when you went back in time, I’m sure after years of training and love you’ll be able to do it again.” He explains. “Meet me back here later with your family and I’ll show you.”

______

______

Neal Nolan was working as an English Teacher in Storybrooke High. He had grown up with his older sister Emma, who was a year older than him. Or so he thought. Neal had no idea of the news he was about to be hit with about his sister.

Neal knocks on the door to his parents’ house with his gift for his sister. He got her a Granny's gift card and a new brown sheriffs jacket (which his girlfriend Thalia helped him pick out) and expects to see Emma in the goofy birthday hat they have both worn on their birthdays since they were 5, but instead, his dad opens the door and he walks in to find Emma looking through the Storybook almost crying.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

Emma looks at him, almost horrified. “We gotta talk.”

He debates whether to say Happy Birthday or not. He decides against it.

“I have no idea how you’re going to take this news,” Emma begins, “One thing is that you are an uncle.”

Nels eyes widen “You’re pregnant?”

“NO!” Emma shouts “Not, no, definitely not.”

Neal is even more confused.

“You are an uncle, but I’m not pregnant. I was, but I'm not now, or well I was a long time ago” Emma starts rambling and making no sense, Neal is even more confused now-When did Emma have a kid?

“Maybe we should back up a little.” Snow says, seeing her son's confused face.

And so the three of them explain how Emma was put through the magic wardrobe to eventually save everyone. How Emma met Neals namesake and thus Henry was born but given up for adoption. Then all about her journey in Storybrooke and breaking the curse, and all the other journeys and curses up until the one where she was turned into a toddler. And how said son and Emma’s boyfriend ran away to Neverland, a place where nobody grows old.

Looking at the photos of Emma holding her baby brother was slightly concerning considering Emma in the photos looked exactly as she did now, yet Neal was a baby. If he hadn’t just been told Emma’s previous life story, he would’ve sworn they were photoshopped.

“Okay, so what happens now?” Neal asks, worried about the answer.

“You and I have to create a portal to Neverland to save my son and True Love,” Emma tells him as though it’s obvious.

“Wait a second, you and I create a portal, like combine our powers?” Neal asks slightly worried about this, they had never combined their powers before and now they were meant to create a portal, everything that could possibly go wrong was likely to happen.

“I realise it’s crazy, but we have no choice. You just gotta trust me.” Emma knows Neal can never say no when she says this, as his older sister Emma always got him to do what she wanted by saying “trust me”. Despite getting into trouble most of the time when they were younger with the whole trusting Emma, even now as a 26 year old man, he couldn't say no to his sister.

Neal just sighs, “Okay. Let's do this.”

Neal had never stepped inside Mr. Gold's Pawn shop. When he was younger he heard stories of kids sneaking in and touching different items therefore getting cursed with the insane amounts of dark magic in his shop. Now he was older, he knew this was just a story, but it didn’t make him any less nervous to enter his shop, there was an insane amount of light and dark magic inside that freaked him out.

There was something different about Emma, the way she walked and held herself. She was less confident, very aware of her surroundings, normally she was more confident and whilst she was aware people knew her (both as Snow White oldest child, and the current sheriff), she never let this bother her, whereas now, supposedly everyone their parents age would have known her before her curse, people were looking at her wondering if she had broken her curse yet. Even as they enter Mr Gold's shop, which wasn’t actually as scary inside as he pictured, she walked in very determined,

“Okay were here. How do we do this?”

“Patience Miss Nolan.” He tells her.

“Ah and the youngest of the Charming broods I see.” Mr Gold says looking at Neal, who suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He knew of the things he had done to people, innocent people, in the Enchanted Forest and that made his stomach churn. But his parents (and Emma apparently now too) have trusted him in the past, and Neal guessed so should he.

“Before we make this portal, you don’t do things out of the goodness of whatever heart you have left. What did you ask for in return?” Emma really was not the older sister he grew up with, she was this independent, confident and slightly argumentative woman that looked like his sister, but had a different aura about her.

“For my grandson I was willing to let the poor lad have this without a deal. As for the pirate.” He sneers, Neal was told The Dark One had a colourful history with Hook, and he was seeing this already. “I simply reminded him of the 300 years he spent in Neverland and what, desires, may still lurk.”

Neal had no idea what this meant, and neither did Emma by the looks of it.

“Now, you two are born of the purest true love therefore your powers combined can create some pretty serious magic.” Gold explains, “Now I need the two of you to hold your hands together and believe you are strong enough. You need to think of the portal in your minds, you will feel it when it is ready.”

And so the siblings to just that. They take each other's hands, standing opposite one another and close their eyes. They then take a deep breath and think of a portal in their minds, letting their magic grow and rise above them.

Emma thinks of Henry, and of Killian. She thinks of Neverland in her mind, and when Henry was kidnapped, she thinks of how badly she wanted to get him back and the things she had learnt about herself, about how much she loved Henry. And about how she was feeling something for Hook.

Both siblings can feel the magic, it’s a part of them and it's rushing around their insides like their blood. Gold said they would feel it when the portal was ready, and he was not wrong. It almost splits the two siblings apart, but they hold on to one another until they just know it’s ready.

The two siblings open their eyes and see a door, a green door with black etchings and designs. It's the portal to Neverland.

They're going to save Henry. Again.

_______

The four charming family members step through the beautifully crafted door, the portal to Neverland. They had packed a few bags and Emma was going to see her son (and hopefully true love) for the first time in 25 years. She could be sick.

The greenery of Neverland greets them as they walk through the door, the humidity and vast amount of jungle and sea that they had seen once upon a time. They arrive near the coast, and Emma can’t see the Jolly Roger in the water, but she had to think positively. If Killian was here she would find him. But only after they found Henry.

She looks over at her parents, and they have the same look on their faces. Fear, determination and awoken memories they had shoved into the back of their minds. After all, Emma wasn’t the only person to go through hell in Neverland, her father was poisoned with dreamshade and had planned to spend the rest of eternity here after drinking the rejuvenating waters.

And poor Neal who only found out a few hours ago that she was actually a lot older than him and was cursed, and now he was in Neverland searching for two people he had only met as a baby.

“Let’s head into the jungle then.” Emma says to her family. And so they head off, into the green jungle filled with who knows what. Now Pan was dead, who knows who now ruled Neverland.

It looks the same as it did 30 years ago, but it feels different. The Magic on the Island feels different, she knows this now, by studying magic for years taught her to sense different types of magic and this was some kind of mix of light dark magic. Not as powerful as Dark One Magic, but not the light magic she feels inside herself. Whatever was keeping this Island alive was clearly a type of magic not found in Storybrooke.

They’re walking for probably an hour when Neals plucks up there courage and asks, “Do you recognise anything here?”

Emma wants to ignore him and shut him out, the way she would’ve done before, but he was her brother, “Honestly, no. I thought I would but it all looks the same.”

“I think we should keep walking, I think we’re on a ridge right now and I assume there’s flatland where we can set up camp a little further up.” Their mother cuts in. Snow was a bandit and a runaway for years when her father was killed, so she knows how to scope out new lands and find a place to set up camp, so they don’t question it and sure enough another little while and they find flat land that seems like a good enough place to set up camp.

“Let’s not use magic to set it up though,” Emma tells her brother, “we don’t know what sort of magic is used here, or who now rules this Island and if they can detect magic. It’s just safer to do it the normal way.”

Everyone nods as they begin to set up. Emma is terrified, she has been since she woke up and realised her life was a lie. She had grown up the way she always wished to, with a family, but now she had broken her curse, it didn’t feel right. She abandoned two people she loved, one being her son. The first family she had in 28 years.

They had run away. So heartbroken that they ran from their home. That didn’t make her feel good about herself. Henry has forgiven her for giving him up as a baby, but will he forgive her for this?

“Emma! Emma!”

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by her brother's voice.

“Sorry, I was zoned out.” She tells him.

“Hey it’s okay don’t worry.” He can clearly sense what’s happening in her brain, though he has no idea of the extent. “I know you said no magic, but don’t you think it’s a good idea to put up a protection spell around our camp? To keep out whoever or whatever might attack us.”

Her little brother was brilliant. Though his magical abilities were not as good, lucky for him was not the saviour so his magic wasn't as strong, but what he did know was his magical history and the theory behind magic, much more than Emma did.

“That's actually a really good idea! You can cast it if you want, I’m a little weak after the portal.”  She lies, she’s not weak, she's just scared of using her magic. In her real-or before her cursed life, she didn’t use magic unless it was serious, when she was the Dark One she used it for everything just like in her cursed life.

He believes her lie, why wouldn’t he, she never normally lies to him. He casts the protection spell eagerly, not normally given the chance to do magic.

“We should rest. It’s dark, and we’re not gonna be able to find Henry now. Let’s sleep, and we can figure out our plan in the morning. We also don’t know who or what is in charge of this Island, don’t want to run into them in the middle of the night.” David says to his family, to which they all agree. Emma is exhausted and her dad is right, there’s no point starting now all she knows is he is on the Island somewhere, maybe he’s imprisoned, or worse, enjoying his time on the island where you don’t grow up.

Sharing a tent with Neal when they were kids was a fun adventure, but as two adults, one who was snoring very loudly, it was a very different story. As tired and exhausted as Emma was, or thought she was, she could not sleep. Killian once told her he was never able to sleep in Neverland, as you can hear the cries of the other lost boys and girls.

But you can only hear their cries if you are also a lost one.

Sure Emma had a family, and she grew up surrounded by people who loved her, she had 2 best friends and a little brother. She was the furthest thing from a lost girl. But she was an orphan. For 28 years, she was an orphan who was never wanted, and gave up her child at 17. That part of Emma will never go away.

Giving up on trying to sleep, she gets out of the tent and sits on the log to try and clear her head. If it’s even possible to do that with the cries of lost ones.

She thought about the two men she was here to save. The last time she had seen Henry, it was saying goodbye to him on the school bus, it was a Friday so they planned to have a Star Wars marathon that weekend. Emma had stocked the freezer with Ice Cream especially. Finally Killian would learn and understand their references to Star Wars. She hoped Henry would still be the same smart little kid who questioned everything.

And Killian. God she missed him. He would bring her coffee in the mornings when she had an early start, and when she was on a night shift at the station he would be at home cooking her breakfast. If she hadn’t been cursed, they would’ve been married and had a kid or two by now. They were finally happy, finally without walls, and she had a feeling Killian was going to propose. But of course he never got the chance.

She loses her train of thought when she hears a twig being stepped on. Her impulses kick in and she hides behind the large tree to her left. She hears someone whistling, as if signalling to somebody. She sees him in the distance. A lost boy, around 15, dark hair, like…

“Henry!” She jumps from behind the tree and in front of her son.

He looks startled, obviously because she scared him and also he hasn’t seen her for 25 years. “Mom?”

Emma is smiling so hard right now, “Henry!”

Henry can’t seem to get words out, “m-mom? Is? It’s-you-you’re here?”  

She goes to embrace her son with tears streaming down her face. “I’m here. It’s broken. The curse.”

She pulls back and wipes away her tears.

“Is it really you?” He asks.

Emma looks different to how he remembers her. Her blonde hair is in a french braid, something she only learned to do in this life. Her clothes are nicer, but still donning the red jacket. Henry knows it’s her, but could it really be her?

“It’s me. Henry. It’s really me. I know you love cinnamon on your hot cocoa, and Operation Cobra brought me to Storybrooke and you made me believe in magic in everything.” Emma’s practically sobbing, she didn’t expect to see him so soon.

Henry looks nervous constantly checking his surroundings, “I can’t stay. If you’re truly my mom, then meet me here tomorrow morning when the sun rises over the place they took my heart.”  With one last look he runs away into the darkness of Neverland.

Emma is stunned for a second, confused as to what just happened. Was there someone following him, or did he need to be somewhere?

The place where they took my heart

Dark Hollow . She tried to look around but it was dark, hopefully in the morning she would be able to see the sun rising over it.

Just as she’s pondering over the last minute with Henry, she’s startled by another voice.

“Swan.”

She hasn’t heard that name in 25 years. And there’s only one person who calls her that.

“Killian.”

[notaghost3]

fanfic end of year asks! 3. favourite line/scene you wrote this year, 4. total number of words you wrote this year (if you know, that might be hard lol), 24. favourite fic you've read this year, and 25. a fic you read this year that you would recommend everyone read ❤️

OOOPS I AM LATE RESPONDING TO THIS HAHA SORRY

3. favourite line/scene you wrote this year, Ok, I have a couple hehehe:

“’Guess it would be pretty cool to say our baby was conceived during Bendemption…’ he said, already working at tugging her pants away from her waist.“ from May the Fourth Be With You (which is one of my FAVORITE one-shots I’ve ever written, but that’s cause I love star wars hahaha)

“Like watching a body lowered into a grave. He had seen too many of those in his lifetime.” from Tiny Dancer. I actually wanted to quote WHOLE sections here, but they wouldn’t make much sense out of context. I’m really proud of that one-shot and I hate more people didn’t see it, but I know its a rarepair, so I understand.

and finally, two from my Shrek AU that I am giving a LOT OF ATTENTION TO IN THIS NEW YEAR AHHH I hope at least

“The thickets grew dense and the princess was forgot, turning into a nothing but a mere legend that peasants and kings alike told their lot. The kingdom that once stood tall did not even rust, instead it returned to the earth, dust to dust. And so it was here that the legend was born…of a lost princess whose kingdom nobody mourned…“ from My Beloved Monster. Honestly, I’m so impressed with myself that I was able to rhyme the ENTIRE Prologue, I do NOT consider myself to be a poet, so I was happy with it

“The day had started like any other. Damp, dark, and a bit of rum in his morning tea. Really, the perfect start.” From My Beloved Monster. I mean, what else can I say? Oh Erik hahaha

4. total number of words you wrote this year (if you know, that might be hard lol), I have no idea, but the short answer is NOT AS MANY AS I WOULD HAVE LIKED *cries* 

24. favourite fic you've read this year, Easy: The Long Road Home. it is a huge slow burn Harry Potter AU Snily fic and OMG I COULD GUSH ABOUT IT FOREVER. I FORGET THAT IT ISN’T CANON AHHHH amazing. everyone who likes Snily should read it is SO GOOD the characters are SO IN CHARACTER and it made me fall in love with the HP fandom all over again. And it made me fall down a rabbit hole of reading hp fics instead of writing phics...oops *nervous laughter*

25. a fic you read this year that you would recommend everyone read ❤️SAME AS BEFORE

[ghostxofxartemis]

Prologue of my Fanfic Complete.

I’m just too excited, I want to share. I’m hoping to get an invitation to Archives tomorrow to post the First chapter, as I just completed it. But I don’t want to give too much right away! But here’s my complete prologue! 

Author’s notes: Hi everyone, welcome to my first fanfiction for Mass Effect, my all time favourite game! My canon Shepard, is default Shepard, Earth Born, War Hero, infiltrator class, paragon with a few renegade options, like kicking the merc out the window in Ilium and killing Kai Leng with that renegade button quick for Thane. Chose to destroy the reapers, and survived. He also romanced Ashley, and I wanted to delve into their story a bit more. However, most of the story will revolve around their daughter, 25 years later. I believe Shepard’s story is done. But that doesn’t mean that another Shepard can’t come and continue his legacy. Everyone survived except for Mordin while dispancering the genophage cure, Thane while chasing Kai Leng, Legion and EDI. However, EDI will be back (I can’t kill her off completely!) 

Another note, I always preferred to write in first person. I know it technically goes against all rules of writing, but I will be switching from John Shepard’s and Alex Shepard’s Point of view.

Also still brainstorming Titles.

Prologue

“The war is over. The Reapers have been defeated. 

Against all odds, and in the face of the greatest threat this galaxy has ever known, we survived. 

We suffered many losses. The relays are severely damaged, but we won. 

This victory belongs to each of us... every man, woman, and child. Every civilization, on every world. Now, as we take our first steps toward restoring what we lost, we must remember what it took to win. This wasn't a victory by a single fleet, a single army, or even a single species.

If this war has taught us anything, it is that we are at our strongest when we work together. And if we can put down our grievances long enough to stop something as powerful as the Reapers, imagine what we can achieve now that they are defeated. 

It will take time, but we can rebuild everything that was destroyed.

Our homes, our worlds, our fleets and defenses. All of this - and more. 

Together, we can build a future greater than any one of us could imagine.

A future paid for by the sacrifices of those who fought and died alongside us.

A future that many will never see. 

And while we still have many challenges ahead of us... We can face them together. 

And we will honor those who died to give us that future.”

Gasp. My lungs filled with air, I felt pain, everywhere. In all my years in my career, all those shots I’ve endured couldn’t compare to this. All I saw was rubble. Did it work? Did the crucible fire? Or did I just imagine that? “Shepard!” “Shepard, where are you?! Come on Commander?!” “Shepard?!” I recognized those voices. Samara, Jack, Miranda? But they were on the other side of the battlefield. I tried to move, but movement shot pain all over my body again and I saw stars in my vision. I was on the verge of slipping in unconsciousness. I knew if I did, I may never wake up again. All my medigel was dispensed during the final push, I had to stay awake until someone found me at least. Then they can take care of the rest. I tried again, slowly this time, I moved my head around, looking for something that could alert them where I am. I shot the tube didn’t I? Back at the crucible? Think Shepard, your pistol must be around! With great effort I started to feel around me, God this rubble is heavy!  There! I felt the pistol. I aimed in the sky and prayed there were still a couple shots left in the thermal clip. I squeeze the trigger. Bam Bam. Two shots that's it, I hear the empty click. They should have heard that, they must be closed otherwise I wouldn’t have heard them. 

“Get down!” “They’re not shooting at us.” “It’s Shepard!” 

“Shepard, stay with me, we got you, we’ll get you medic” Miranda’s face appeared in my vision as she spoke, her omnitool bright orange, I started to feel light headed but my pain was slowly diminishing, for now. How much medigel did she give me?! Oh, why does it matter, she knows what she is doing, she put me back together after all!  “MEDIC, OVER HERE! IT’S SHEPARD!” I heard Jack yell, before my vision went black. 

“Stay with me Shepard!” Miranda again, I was on a gurney, they were running with the medics, Miranda had her omnitool at the ready. Looked like she was scanning the damage, her face, didn’t look right...worried? “Miranda…Ashley?” I tried to reach for her. “Shh, save your energy. Just stay with me okay, you’ll be okay! The Normandy made it out on time, you did it Shepard” I didn’t know whether she was telling the truth about me making it, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Ashley and my crew...my friends, were safe. All went dark. 

I woke up again, who knows how long I have been out, and heard beeping noise around me. I searched my surroundings, and noticed a heart rate monitor, tubes in my arms. I’m in a hospital, still alive, well at least I think so? Miranda’s face appeared in my vision, as well as someone else, don’t know who they are though. “Hey Shepard, you got some broken ribs, your left arm is broken, we’re keeping you under a coma for you to recover faster. But you’re going to make a full recovery.” I heard Miranda say to me before she turned around to the other man in the room and said “give him a dose, a bigger one this time, trust me he’ll be fine.” I couldn’t help but chuckle and I saw Miranda’s lip quirk up, I knew she got the same sense of deja vu: the first time I woke up in the Cerberus lab when she rebuilt me. But I knew I was going to be fine, after all Miranda would know best. All went dark again.

I woke up again, and I heard some rustling beside me, and I hand touched mine. “Hey Hero-Man, glad to see you finally awake.” I didn’t need to see who it was, because I would recognize her voice anywhere. A smile spread on my face, I never felt so much joy in my lifetime. Ashley was okay, and she was here beside me! I turned to face her, and tried to speak, but it almost felt like I had no voice. “Shh, shh, you’ve been out a while, just take it slow Skipper.” I had to say this though, and I squeezed her hand, cleared my throat, and with pure will I muttered a raspy “I love you,” she smiled and said “I know” and I fell asleep again. 

The next time I woke up, I felt much better. I couldn’t say how much time had passed, I figured maybe about a few days. Next to me Ashley had fallen asleep, she had her head on the bed all the while sitting in the chair she pulled up. I gently ran my fingers in her hair, and I felt her stir under my touch. “Hey pretty lady” I whispered, “Hey” she said back at me as she slowly lifted her head off the bed “You’re awake”. “Just woke up myself. How long have I been out?” I asked her. “Hmm, just about a month now, Miranda’s been looking after you until we could get the Normandy fully functioning again and back into orbit. We got back to Earth as soon as we could and got here. Dr. Chawkas took over your care after that” she replied. A month?! I took a moment to process that, I thought I had been out a few days, but a month?!  I was in shock. Normandy fully functioning? What the hell happened?! “Ash...what happened? After I got to the crucible? What happened?” I reached for her hand and squeezed it. I needed to know what happened after everything went dark. “The crucible shot red beams of light, and all synthetic, the Geth, Edi, even the Reapers, they all went dead. The Normandy was hit, we sustained a bit of damage before hitting the relay, we landed on an uncharted world. The crew worked all together to get the Normandy back up. Took us about 3 days, and then 2 weeks to get back to earth. But you did it Shepard - you destroyed the Reapers, the war is done. But there’s one more thing… Admiral Anderson..” she started saying, I nodded my head “I know, I was with him.” “I’m so sorry Skipper” for the first time ever, I saw a tear run down Ashley’s cheek. Throughout everything, Kaidan’s death, even when she was in the hospital and waiting for news on her family, Ashley Williams never cried, and here she was shedding a tear. I took my free hand and placed it behind her neck and brought her forehead to my lips and planted a kiss, and I held her there. She pulled away, and whipped her tears, “I should get Dr. Chawkas, I’ll be right back,” she stood up and walked out the door to get Dr. Chawkas, and I leaned back into the bed and sighed. I felt relieved that the Reapers were truly destroyed. But cords pulled on my heart. Edi had truly died. I was supposed to be dead. I had hoped that the catalyst had lied, but it hadn’t. Now Joker had lost the love of his life. 

I heard the door whoosh open again and turned my head in it’s direction, Dr. Chawkas looked at me, a smile spreading ear to ear, and behind her was Miranda. I could see Ashley talking to Admiral Hackett and James leaning up against the wall. I guess I could expect a huge welcoming party after speaking to Dr. Chawkas and Miranda. I was pretty sure there were others there that I couldn’t see. “Glad to see you awake Commander. You’re looking a lot better. I’m just going to run some scans here. I have to say, I’m impressed with Miranda’s medical skills, it was touch and go there for a while” she was saying as she lit up her omni-tool to do her scans. 

“Well, if anyone would know my body inside and out, it would be her, it wouldn’t be the first time either” I chuckle, and heard Dr. Chawkas chuckle as well, while I swear, Miranda’s cheeks turned beet red. “I suppose you're right. Scans look commander, you’re healing well. You should be good to go to physical therapy in a few days. But first we should probably get you some food,” she cocked her head in the direction of my stomach, as it made a growl, I swear everyone in the next system heard. “I’ll go get you something to eat, in the meantime Admiral Hackett would like to speak to you,” she turned on her heels and made her way out the door only to stop to speak quickly to Admiral Hackett “he’s all good Admiral, ready to see you” she nodded and Hackett give her a nod back “thank you Dr.” and made his way towards me. “Shepard, I don’t still don’t know how you pulled that off. That wasn’t short of any miracle” he reached out with a hand and I took in my own to give him a hand shake. “I don’t really know what really happened myself, tell you the truth Admiral” I replied. He pulled his hand back and clasped them behind his back, taking on his usual casual stance. “Tell me what you remember.” 

“I don’t know where to start Admiral. I reached the beam, and landed somewhere in the Citadel. Somewhere I’ve never been before. They were collecting human remains, and looked like they were gathering them to make another Reaper, maybe. I don’t know.” I pause to sigh and bring my thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of my nose for a moment, deep in thought. When I pulled my hand away again, I recollected myself to continue my debrief. “I made my way to the control panel, and Anderson had already reached it. He was trying to open to the Citadel arms. But the Illusive man was controlling him, stopping him from accessing the controls.” Hackett made a noise that sounded like a hmm. “So he managed to learn how to control humans, and not just husks?” he asked. “Yeah...thought he was implanted with reaper technology. He managed to get control over me as well. I tried to pull him out of his revelry, but he made me shoot Anderson, before he pulled the trigger on himself.” I sighed at the memory. I felt guilty, and it must have shown in my expression, for Hackett immediately interjected “It wasn’t your fault Shepard,” “It doesn’t make it any easier, sir”.

It must have taken me about a good 10 mins to explain everything, from the catalyst to the destruction of the Reapers. Hackett had agreed that taking control of  the Reapers would have been too much of a risk, what if down the line I would have become indoctrinated and started up another war? Rewriting human DNA is unethical. Destruction was the only way to go, even at a great cost. Peace between synthetic and humans is possible, as I had managed to prove to the galaxy with brokering peace between the geth and the Quarians. 

Hackett thanked me for the briefing and wished me a speedy recovery. I knew I would be out for a bit, but thanks to my cybernetics, it wouldn’t be as long as a normal person. Something I was grateful for, to be honest, even after everything that just happened, I still wasn’t ready to retire. 

After Hackett left, Ashley came back in followed by James, Traynor Carrying a vase full of “get well flowers”, Garrus, Liara and Cortez. “I brought you some flowers Commander, I’m glad you’re doing better commander, everyone has been worried about you” Traynor said as she placed the vase on the bedside table. “Thanks Traynor.” 

“Just couldn’t help yourself from destroying the reapers with a bang, uh Loco?” James chuckled, I just rolled my eyes at him and shook my head. No doubt I’ve just earned myself more “Loco” points. “S’cuse me” Dr. Chawkas was shimmying herself between the crew with a tray of food in her hands, and when she reached me she handed the tray and I reached out and grabbed it and placed it on my lab. I scrutinized what was on the tray, military rations albeit not being the best and tastiest of food, certainly looked more appetizing than the clump of goo that was sitting in front of me. I looked up at Dr. Chakwas, eyebrows raised in a quizzical look “what is this supposed to be?” She shrugged and her expression  turned sympathetic, no doubt not wanting to be stuck with this goo and feeling horrible about handing it over to me. “It’s supposed to be oatmeal. Something soft but not too solid yet, have to slowly introduce food into your system. You’ve been out a while Commander.” 

I picked up the spoon, scoop up a spoonful, only to purposely drop through the goo back into the plate. “I think I lost my appetite” I grumbled. “We’ll leave you to it commander” Traynor gave a sympathetic look  towards my way before gesturing to the others to do the same. Miranda lingered behind a bit “I’m glad your back Commander” and turned towards the door to follow the others out. Only Ashley remained behind. I moved myself a little closer to the edge of the bed and pat the empty spot beside me for her to sit down next to me. She was more than happy to oblige, her smile spreading across her face. She lay down and leaned her hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s not appetizing, John, but you should eat” she said. I sighed, “I know, I just didn’t want to make faces in front of everyone” I replied, and she snorted. I sighed again and took another spoonful and slowly, the food made its way down to my stomach.

The few weeks I spent in the hospital and physical therapy had been slow and excruciating. Not in the sense that my body hurt, it was mostly all healed up at this point, thanks to my upgrades. But it was the fact I was stuck there and hadn’t gotten the all clear yet to get back into the field. Ashley thought I was crazy, that I had more than earned some shore leave. But I wasn’t one to just sit around and do nothing.

I also had ceremonies to attend. I had been given more awards for my part in the war. The Normandy crew had been granted the Galactic Unit Citation for their part in helping win me this war. I had been awarded my second Star of Terra, along with the Star of Sur’Kesh, Silver Dagger, and Nova Cluster. My recognition in this war had gone with plenty of notice. 

Eventually I was given the all clear to head back and command The Normandy again. Hackett wanted the Normandy's help in patrolling  the system, making sure no one went rogue. With the government in chaos, and the Alliance in scramble right now. And with all the repairs that needed to be done to the mass relays, he wanted to make sure no pirates or mercs decided to attack anyone at random. The Normandy was to escort fleets to other systems so that we can start making the repairs on the mass relays ASAP. I was more than happy to comply. 

The welcoming I received was heartwarming. Everyone was glad to see me up on my feet again. New armor had been sent to the armory to replace the one that had been scorched in the final push. Walking up the ramp I plot our first trip to Arcturus Stream for our first escort. “You got it, Commander” was Joker’s voice coming through the speakers. I couldn’t help but smiled as I turned around and headed to the elevator up to my cabin. It was good to be back on the Normandy, and quite frankly, I was looking forward to a night alone with Ashley. 

[jilyesplz]

Hi! This is a shout into the void but I've started writing a ton of Jily/Marauders fanfic during quarantine and I'd really, really love a beta to help me make it better. I would love a two-way street where I also read and give feedback on your work—I really love what I've seen of the Marauders fandom community and would love to be part of it :)

I'm putting a goofy little snippet that I like from a WIP in here as enticement...please halp me.

“You utterly ridiculous children,” Professor McGonagall shook her head fondly at Lily and her boys. “It’s frankly astounding that the lot of you managed to agree on a name for your friend group, let alone—”

“We did not!” All five Marauders cried together.

“Marauders was my idea,” said Sirius indignantly.

“I still stand by the ‘Hooligallants,’” James added.

“I wanted to be ‘Men Wear Purple Pants,’” Peter put in, “because of the acronym with Moony, Worm—”

Sirius kicked him. “Secret nicknames, mate. Anyway, you didn’t care about the acronym, you just thought we’d have to stop slagging off your lavender knickers if you got us pairs.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t, I look fit in lavender.”

“Irrelevant, Evans, you’d look fit in puke yellow.” Lily blushed, and James grinned at his shoes.

“And I didn’t think we needed to name our friend group because we’re not blond tweens in a Lifetime special—”

“Your lifetime is too special, Remus, quit talking like that,” James interrupted hotly.

“He's talking about the Muggle telly channel, nitwit.” Lily flicked James’s nose.

“—But naturally Padfoot and Prongs yelled the loudest, so we let them duel it out—”

“And then,” Sirius said, smirking evilly, “Evans pitched a fit nearby, and James got distracted—”

“Pitched a fit?”

“Got distracted?!?”

“You brought my Potions ingredients back to life, and a vampire bat bit me!”

“Then you yelled, ‘James! Thy lady love doth perish!’ and hexed me when I turned around!”

“—So I won! Ergo, Marauders.”

“Then,” James added, “when we adopted Lily—”

“Pardon? I adopted you!”

“When we adopted Lil,” Sirius, louder, “she tried to stage a coup to become ‘Bonnie and the Clydes’.”

“But Remus pointed out that Sirius is obviously Bonnie in that scenario,” Peter said, “and Lily lost interest.”

“So, Marauders,” all five finished together. They looked up at their audience to see Professor McGonagall’s head in her hands, the two Ministry wizards’ mouths hanging open, and Professor Dumbledore trying very hard not to laugh and having no success at all.

Wanna know more about this story? Then pleeeeeeease PM meeeeeeeeeee <3