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babytaes · 3 years

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†hê Ðêmðñ (the beauty of sin)

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You're a guardian angel who's never been tasked with protecting anyone. Since you've been here since Creation, sitting around in heaven hasn't brought you any rewards. You were looking forward to the day when you'd be assigned a human to look after. When that day finally arrives, things take an unexpected turn when you are assigned to Heeseung, a demon from the underworld.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: heeseung x female reader

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: angst, suggestive/smut

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 4k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: profanity, smut scenes, bad boy heeseung (lol),

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

Sin is a spiritual virus that invades the whole being. It makes you morally and spiritually weak. It’s a deadly disease that infects every part of you: your body, your mind, your emotions, and your motives—absolutely everything. Nobody has the strength on their own to overcome its power.

Nobody should ever commit sin, never giving in to their worldly and sinful impulses. It's unjust and wrong. However, what is it about sin that makes it so fascinating and enjoyable?

It gave you joy to see it in his smile or the way his hands caressed your body. What a lovely thing sin is!

Even though some sins are innocent and enjoyable, sometimes regulations are supposed to be broken. Everyone, after all, is a sinner.

“WHAT!?,?” You began to sweat as you worriedly communicated your concerns to your overseer, “You must be mistaken, High Lord.”

“I understand the protocol; angels are supposed to serve as "guardian angels" to beautiful or broken souls on Earth. You know we're expected to look after them and keep an eye on them to make sure they stay on track. With all due respect, ma'am, I don't believe I'm qualified for this position; at the very least, someone of level 10 would be ideal.”

Her cream-colored wings swept her off her feet as she chuckled and waved for you to follow her. You sighed as you flutter up and away with her, trailing behind her, feeling a twitch in yours.

As you eventually caught up to her, dodging angels left and right, you apologized to random angels in your path, uncomfortably smiled at the people you bumped into with your wings.

You retracted your wings closer to you and walked uneasily beside your overseer as you carefully stepped down on the golden road.

Before you could say anything, she quietly took your hand in hers and gently kissed it, assuring you that everything would be alright. As you approached the center of the commotion, you bit your lower lip and remained silent.

Looking around at the community, it warmed your heart to see so many people, young and old, out here. Some you've known since the beginning of time, while others were born only last week. Everyone had gathered to witness the masterpiece that would emerge in an instant.

“You know Y/N I have complete faith in you that this first expedition will be a breeze,” you smiled, looking up at her with excitement and a tinge of fear in your eyes. “We wouldn't have suggested you for the job unless we knew who you really are, and you've earned it.” Don't worry, you were expecting this; now have a look.”

With her finger pointing to the stage forward, you were treated to yet another spectacular show. They're known as the "Grand Turning" in Heaven. This is where a new or seasoned angel has completed his or her training with a human or demon and earned their proper place in the community.

It could be a badge, a ribbon, or something more unique, such as the opportunity to talk with the all-powerful, our God.

Despite the fact that you were assigned to him, you were determined to get those jobs because they were the only way for you to ever get that honor. You weren't going to allow Mr. Unperfect take away that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Nobody could and will ever be able to make you fail this assignment; you were meticulously prepped. You were taught the correct and only way to do things, and now was your opportunity to shine. You were not going to be a Lucifer, cast from Heaven

“I'll do it,” you said to your supervisor, a smile on your face and confidence in your eyes. She turned to face you and hugged you passionately, rubbing your wings with a motherly devotion.

“I knew you could do it; now it's time to get you ready.”

---

When people have a near-death experience, they always remark that life flashes before their eyes. Unfortunately for angels, it's the contrary; when we're approached with a high-alert danger or warning, it's more of a gentle whisper in our ears. Normally more attentive while traveling to Earth.

The best place to be humans say.. What is with these fickle minded words?

You take a deep breath and turn to face your overseer, who is polishing her wings to ensure that they are kept in order. When having wings, a routine is taught from the beginning to keep them in a good up do. Nobody wants to look simple when you can look stunning.

She took your hand in hers and walked toward the end of the route, issuing some documents to the Pearl City Gate guards. You noticed the circular orb while glancing around.

"How can some humans believe in the world being flat, we literally have an air-like view. To me, it's definitely round.” She chuckled as she pinched your cheeks and turned your puzzled face to her.

“When you get down to earth, you'll see a lot of that, people with a lot of opinions. But what did you learn in your training?”

Standing up and smoothing your wings, you calmly shouted out the words as if they were written on the back of your palm.

“Although humans are the destroyers of their own precious planet, everyone's opinion matters, regardless of race, gender, or identity.”

“Well, not all,” you began scratching your head, “I've seen some harsh individuals in our study books, God should strike them down-“

“Um no ma'am, let us put it aside for the time being and focus on what needs to be done.” She started going over a list of laws and regulations for your descent to Earth. As you gave her a thumbs up, you were attentively listening and mentally bookmarking everything in their designated area.

I believe I have a good understanding of everything, and I think I am prepared.” She offered you a short hug before letting you go, showing her affection for you. You were going to miss her, despite the fact that it was a mutually-surface relationship.

“Last but not least, this ordeal will be different in that people will be able to see you. But if you have to use your wings, the lad is the only one who can see you. When you arrive, he will be waiting for you. My child, best of luck and may God bless you.”

You let go of her and moved toward the road's edge, gripping your bag as you turned to face her and waved farewell as you stepped over the brink.

“Wait a minute, what if-“

When you felt a push from behind, you tumbled off the ledge and spun around in the sky, where you saw a smiling face as you glanced up. They didn't tell you that you'd have to be pushed. As you plunged to Earth, you closed your eyes, terrified. Oh, how nice.

Screaming, you descended into the atmosphere, your narrowed eyes seeing glimpses of land here and there. Not letting up you let your wings cover your whole body as you plopped down onto soft green grass.

You peered out from your wings, gasping for air, and glanced up.

“Oh, Heavens”

His physique was slender, active, and well-groomed, with a trace of bad boy behavior in his scent. The first thing that struck your eye were the rips in his jeans. How could a man-made mistake seem to be so appealing? As you raised your eyes, you noticed tattoos splattered across his arms and up to his neck. His black velvet-like wings fluttering in the breeze, he raised his palm to his hair and stroked through the old curls, deconstructing the pattern they had once formed.

“Did you just pull a Lucifer or was this all planned?” he coughed as he put out his hand to you, taking a good look at you.

Stuttering in your words you quickly got up and patted yourself off and finally looked him in the eyes, noticing his dark eyes.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen, I hoped to fly down here and appear more Angel-like, but I think my overseer had other ideas.”

He said, "Ah," with a bored expression on his face.

“My name is Heeseung, and if you don't mind, I assume you don't.” I guess my name is well-known in Heaven. You're probably the fifth Angel who has appeared in the last year to “assist me.” What a load of bullshit; you can't hide what's already there, you know.”

He made a pouty look as he smirked closer to you before covering his hand with his mouth and saying, “oh forgive me, I suppose I have a potty mouth.”

Panicking at this new light, you smiled and coughed loudly and suddenly, “Before you say anything else, I'd want to inform you that I'm not like those angels we don't talk about. I have a holy standard that I adhere to.

He rushed to your face, rolling his eyes at your innocence, and murmured to you, "well see about that little Ms. Purity."

As you moved back and shook your head, spurring out prayers, you tugged the strings of your bag close to you, seeming irritated. Looking up, you noticed him hovering in mid-air with his arms crossed, waiting for you.

“Whether you're coming or not, I'm in the mood for a cup of coffee. Allow me to go fetch you one so that this whole ordeal between us may be over soon and we can both return to our respective worlds.”

You instantly snap open your wings and shot up into the sky, scoffing at his rudeness, and dash by him, racing to the left.

“It's this way, dummy,” he cackled as he immediately shot out. Embarrassed and annoyed, you flipped over to his side and flew alongside him, praying to the Lord for peace as your rage subsided.

“Lord, so help me”

---

“So, what's on the agenda, Ms. Purity? There are a lot of things I'd want to do with you. You know, if you just ditch this whole act, we might be able to have some fun. He winked at you as he sipped his drink while peering across the table.

You shook your head and chuckled, gagging at his remark, "You must get all the girls, you appear really, what's the word, competent" I'm astonished since I assumed everyone down under was inept.”

He smirked and crossed his legs as he lay startled in his chair, cocking his head to the side. It's not that you were trying to be mean; it's just what you were taught. There are no hard feelings.

“Well, as much as I'd like to keep this delightful little date going, I have a commitment to fulfill. You know, duty calls.” You quickly got up and hurried after him, confused as to where he was going, as he shot up in the air and chuckled, waving farewell to you.

“Wait, Heeseung, you can't just go away like that. We need to figure out how I'm going to find you. You're being impolite by getting up and leaving.” You made yourself look insane since you didn't realize no one could see him. You wouldn't want to be labeled as one of these Earthlings.

You beckoned him down, mentally terrified, “Please can you just come down for a damn second.” Your jaw dropped as you hurriedly covered your mouth. Heeseung's jaw dropped when he appeared in front of you, stunned.

“Gasp, I'm hearing a term I'm sure they don't say in Heaven. Hmm, I suppose the Earth changes people.” He went closer to your ear, his warm arm bouncing on your skin as he giggled, his lips inches away from yours.

“I've already entered my phone number into your phone; you do understand what a phone is, right?” Doesn't matter, I have to get somewhere, and you can locate me later. Okay, I'll see you later.” He swept up in the air and rushed over to the bridge as he vanished into the horizon, rushing out in a haste once more.

You sat back in the coffee chair, wiped your brow, and focused mentally and spiritually, pleading with the Lord for help and forgiveness. You had a feeling this mission was going to be a disaster.

Whining, you threw your hands in the air and sat face down on the table, groaning as you realized this trek. It's no surprise that these honors are well-deserved; it takes a lot of effort.

You cautiously lifted your head and faced the barista after hearing a soft tap on your table. She smiled at you as she set down a piece of paper. You scowled as you inspected the weird set of paper.

“What a jerk, he didn't just leave me to pay for both drinks.” With a shake of your head, you reached inside your bag and drew out a wallet. Your overseer informed you that many people like flaunting and spending their money, so she provided some for you just in case.

As you cleaned up, you began to mentally map out your route through town, mentally picturing the locations and navigating your way home. As you walked over to the cashier, you handed her some money and thanked her before heading out the door.

At the very least, you landed in a fantastic location. It was in the heart of South Korea, and the city was called Seoul, a wonderful metropolis to be sure. You were taught to master specific languages for specific tasks, so communicating wasn't a problem. Despite the fact that you were new in a strange place, you were determined to make the most of it. The first step was to return home and examine the situation.

How to manage Lee Heeseung.

Arriving at your small abode was an adventure in itself; it didn't take long for you to connect your GPS and get going. It was actually fairly pleasant and provided a change of scenery to enjoy. It's not quite Heaven, but it's still lovely. When you finally arrive at your destination, you look up to see a little, charming apartment in front of you.

They really went all out for you, and it's very much in your style. You'd felt right at home as soon as you stepped inside, as it was more modern and sophisticated.

To be honest, you had no idea what you were doing, but it felt good to have your own little place to do anything you wanted. You could get used to this, no wonder why humans never leave their house. Who would want to leave when you have everything here. Food, entertainment, and a BALCONY!!

As you finished exploring the apartment and basked in its magnificence, you laughed to yourself as you made your way to the couch, sinking into its coziness as sleep took over your mind and body.

*Crunch, thud, bang*

As you lurched forward, you flew up your wings in defense mode, trying to understand what you'd heard.

“Who's there? I have a weapon, and I'm not afraid to use it.”

When you hear a familiar giggle, you look up and see the attractive intruder. Walking over to you and snatching the pillow from your grasp he took your hand and pulled you over to the island where he had prepared some food.

As you took it all in, you smelt familiar scents and smiled, completely forgetting about it until you were reminded again.

“Wait, what are you doing in my apartment, and how did you get in?”

He began to remove some pots and pans from the stove while he placed some food on a platter, saying, "I have my methods."

“I'm not sure what you eat up there in Heaven, but I'm guessing it's all healthy and nutritious food.” You laughed and shook your hand in disbelief while shaking your head.

“I don’t think out of all places we would be eating so strictly. It's basically whatever you can get your hands on.. It's guaranteed to be better food than what you'll find in Hell.”

Pulling the dish away from him, you began to pick at the fries, popping one into your mouth and savoring the flavor, “not bad.”

He bowed in front of you, wiped the sweets from his brow, and returned to sit next to you, grabbing a dish and feeding himself some. As the night progressed, you told him the rundown for the next three months.

“So, despite the fact that you're definitely one of the worst jerks I've ever encountered. For this to function, we'll need to create certain ground rules.” Aiming a finger between you and him. “I'm not sure whether you've ever had to do anything for anyone else in your life, but it's all about serving people around here, and that's why I accepted this assignment. Even if you don't want to help yourself, I want to help you.”

As Heeseung shuffled around in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you, the atmosphere became tense.

“Harsh, but keep going.”

Smiling you continued as you tried to wrap your head around this complex creature.

“I understand that we are supposed to protect and guide you to do good, but it appears that we have progressed far beyond that, and we need to start at the source of your problem, which is most likely your heart or mind. What's going on in both?

As his words danced across your lips, he smirked and drew you closer to him.

“Now there's a secret.”

Smirking as your face felt warm, you cocked your head to the side and touched his shoulder before getting up and setting your dish in the sink, cleaning up as piercing eyes stabbed your back.

“I understand what you're thinking, and I've got it all under control.”

He approached you and said, "If you say so," as he put his head against your ear.

2 months later

Everything was certainly out of hand, and he was to blame. Your strategy not only failed, but it was only a matter of time until your overseer found out. And you didn’t want to end up like the last guy tossed from Heaven.

It wasn't all that bad, but who were you kidding, it was a disaster. It wasn't a major shift; rather, it was a series of modest changes. Things like accidentally cursing or hanging out with him at ungodly hours. You convinced yourself that everything was OK.

He drew you into your room and sat you down while hovering over you, gently caressing your body and kissing you.

You smiled and drew him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and bringing him down on you, closing the distance between you.

Heeseung has been on a mission to damage your "innocent demeanor" for the past two weeks. He intended to show you that it was all a charade and that no one is actually perfect. Despite not knowing what he was going to do, you were up for the challenge. That core part of you didn't take long to succumb to his immoral impulses.

What was the problem as long as you were both happy?

“Heeseung,” you say as he draws you closer to him and unclasps your bra with his free hand. As you slowly rise to assist him, you toss the material to the ground and reach for his sweatpants.

“Someone a little needy, but we are not doing that today. Today is all about pampering my lovely angel. Is it all right?”

Nodding your head, you keep an eye on him as he goes between your legs, halting at the bottom as he eyes your breast and grasps softly as your body adjusts.

“Hurry up,” you grumble as you stare at his sinister grin. As you moan, he places gentle lips along your folds, leaning down to your core. As you twitch under his touch, his finger makes a fast dive between your folds, inciting dampness.

As you whine from the pressure, your eyes flutter shut as he switches his finger out with his tongue, softly licking up your surface.

“mm, close,” you exclaim, your lips wide open as he notices your clit, tongue flicking lustfully against it. As he presses harder on your sensitive region, he laughs as you break apart under his power.

“Oh God, right there.”

“Please don't involve Him in this.” He hits a place as your high comes crashing down on you, chuckling at your reaction. Heeseung is holding you down and watching you quiver wildly as you release juice, which causes him to swallow it before wiping his mouth. As you fall onto his body, overwhelmed and still sensitive to the sensation, he pulls you up.

He lays your exhausted body next to his and wipes any excess arousal from his mouth before kissing your lips.

You both lay in a comfortable stillness for the remainder of the night, your breathing slowly returning to normal as you sign into his arms.

“Perhaps you're right; we're all just horny, messed-up creatures; I mean, even though what we're doing is completely wrong, it was fun to break the rules. My entire life has been focused on doing the right thing and being this upstanding angel. It's fun to deviate from the norm.” As Heeseung witnessed you erupt in rage, you became agitated.

“You’re cute when you’re mad, also I told you.” You both chuckled as you pushed him to the side before coming to a halt in the middle of your conversation, looking concerned at him.

“However, I leave tomorrow and I don't think I'll be ready to see you off, and this was not in my plan.”

“Shhh, I figured it out; just stick to my plan and we'll both come out on top.”

You sat closer to him, nodding your head and clasping your hand in his as you allowed sleep to take over your body.

As you may know, angels and humans have quite distinct punishments; some humans are never punished for their wrongdoings, whereas angels' actions are usually discovered one way or another.

And you were terrified that they would find out. The person who fell from the edge was not the same person who was returning back and everyone was going to know it. Just not right now, you had to maintain your composure as you approached your overseer.

As you were greeted with the overseer and some guards, you held Heeseung by his chains and whispered something into his ear.

“I see you were having a good time?” You shook your head and looked down, worried. You looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Yes, High Lord, I am aware of my error and what needs to be done in order to be purified once more. I accept complete responsibility for this assignment, but I crack him first, and we have all the secrets we need.”

As he observed you return to the opposite side with the overseer, Heeseung's gaze shifted up in fright. Fearing for his life, he flailed his wings in an attempt to flee.

“What the hell, Y/N, I thought we were on the same team.” How could you betray me in such a way?” You walked over to his trembling body and pushed him down so you were above him, laughing loudly. You patted his shoulder as you cackled.

“And they said angels could be trustworthy. I know what I'm worth, and it has nothing to do with you. Heseeung, please accept my apologies. Get him out of here.” The guards grabbed his chains and dragged him to a chamber across the room from you.

As she began to compliment you on your efforts, the supervisor wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“I'm proud of you, Y/N, even though you used some terrible techniques. I knew you'd be able to pull it off.”

You grinned joyously and thanked her for her faith in you as you looked up at her face. You cast another peek at Heeseung as she stepped forward, and he winked at you. Smirking before he disappeared into the room you chuckled at his behavior.

Everything was going swimmingly, and no one had a clue. I suppose taking over Heaven would be a simple task; if you can blow up the inside, everything will fall apart on its own.

"How could you hide this from all of us?" "Oh God, you underestimated me."

The Beauty of Sin.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

#enhypen #enhypen writers #enhypen series #enhypen angst #enhypen suggestive #enhypen smut #lee heeseung #heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen reactions #en-#kpop au #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen masterlist #babytaes works

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klixxy · 3 years

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Genshin Fic Recs

so... i ventured into the vast world of Google looking for some good GI fic recs... only to find such a pitiful amount that i was promptly devastated. therefore, the solution is to make my own! :D

keep in mind most of these will be ChiLi or XingYun, and yes, i will try not to include smut unless it was one i really really liked. if anyone wants a separate list for just smut (though that will most likely be shorter) i can try to make one later.`

ft. my bookmark comments :)

CHILI

wrapped up in pure gold by beyondwinter

(chili; accidental marriage; chili/childe-centric; 22k words; ongoing)

"Do you understand its meaning, Childe?" He finally asks. There's a hard glint in his eyes, like he's trying to steel himself for his answer.

"Yeah." Loyalty and devotion, right? Between business partners? "I do. It's traditional, isn't it?"

Zhongli's eyes glow a warm amber in the near darkness, reflecting the soft shine of the lanterns. He studies his face with a strange intensity, as though Childe were a piece of high quality Nocticulous Jade being sold for suspiciously small sum and he's trying to find the blemishes that would explain the price. The weight of his gaze should be uncomfortable, boring into him like he can see into the very depths of his abyss-tainted soul, but Childe finds himself preening under the attention instead.

Childe accidentally proposes to Zhongli. Zhongli accepts.

The World is Water by Millereflets

(chili; smut; hurt/comfort; chili-centric; 7k words; oneshot)

Childe doesn't visit Zhongli until it's almost too late.

(my bookmarks: HOW DO YOU MAKE A SMUT SCENE SO POETIC HOLY SHITTTTT)

Set in Stone by seredemia

(chili; fake dating au; angst; some smut?; chili/chiilde-centric; 55k words; ongoing)

What do you do when you write about a certain six thousand year old consultant so much in your letters that it somehow convinces your entire family you're not only dating each other, but that you're also engaged?

In Childe's case, the answer is plain and simple: he goes along with it, of course. Absolutely nothing can go wrong if he makes a contract with the God of Contracts, vowing that the two of them will pretend to be lovers for the duration of his family's stay in Liyue. Afterwards, they'll return as normal and speak no more of this mess. No feelings or complications involved whatsoever.

Contract accepted. A fool-proof plan set in stone. Right?

Private Ledger of the Eleventh Harbinger by JuHuaTai

(chili; humor; getting together; chili/ekaterina-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

“So guess what I did next?”

Ekaterina contemplated not answering, but Harbinger Tartaglia was just… grinning and waiting. It’s honestly rather creepy the longer time passed.

In the end, she gave a long suffering sigh that seems lost on him, “You bought him the Erhu—“

“I bought him the antique, cor lapis based Erhu,”

When she first left her homeland for the unknown nation of Liyue, Ekaterina was ready to be many things: To be a soldier, to fell Tsaritsa’s enemies in her name, to bring glory to Snezhnaya and her leader.

Being a receptionist in a cozy bank wasn’t so bad in comparison, but she absolutely can do without the front row seat to Harbinger Tartaglia’s (expensive) love life.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

(chili; humor; fluff; chili-centric; 12k words; ongoing)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly." Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-" Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?" Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

CHILIVEN

Crumbling Stone by avtorSola

(chiliven; ANGST; PAIN; mind control; zhongli-centric; 74k words; ongoing)

When Morax unleashes his plan to test the Liyue Qixing and his adepti, he does not take into account the stirring of the Abyss Order in the north and the corruption of Dvalin - for why would he fear an organization that works in such shadows? He is secure in his power, after all, unlike his flighty ex, the absentee archon of Mondstadt who rises only when his people are in danger.

But, somehow, the Abyss Order discovers his plan. Somehow, they capitalize on it. And he, the God of Stone who cannot sicken, is struck down - taken by an order bent on destroying all of humanity as Liyue crumbles around him. For even Archons aren't immune to Durin's blood, and Morax is no exception. But then the question becomes - if even Archons may fall to the agony of this corrupting burn - how is their traveling friend Aether immune?

The answer comes from beyond the stars - an ancient malice that knows no kindness or mercy. A malice whose legacy the Abyss Order now bears, seeking to topple all the Archons and their people into the void of utter destruction. And they have begun in Liyue.

Fortunately, it takes a long time to erode stone.

(my bookmarks: IM SCREAMING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

PLATONIC ZHONGVEN

left-behind city by trixstar

(platonic zhongven; angst; ANGST; venti-centric; 1k words; oneshot)

"An associate of mine has just informed me that Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon has been assassinated."

Venti blinks.

Or: Venti and how he copes with finding out he is all that remains.

i circle ten thousand years long; and i still do not know if i am a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song by birdsofpassage

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 4k words; oneshot)

Venti and Zhongli, and the vignettes of a much-needed vacation around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: ; - ; ; - ; )

oh ye with little faith by air_fried_air

(platonic zhongven; angst; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

Two former archons do a little tour around Mondstadt.

(my bookmarks: why are all genshin angst fics so melancholy.... i feel so empty)

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

(platonic zhongven; humor; hurt/comfort; zhongven-centric; 21k words; finished)

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

(my bookmarks: venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship venti zhongli friendship-)

XINGYUN

the art of exorcism by Agried

(xingyun; ghost au; hurt/comfort; chongyun-centric; 9k words; oneshot)

On the road back from one of his jobs, Chongyun runs into Xingqiu, the wandering swordsman. And then they keep meeting, over and over again. or, alternately; how a ghost and an exorcist learn how to love, one step at a time.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

(xingyun; humor; romance; chongyun-centric; 24k words; hiatus)

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

[On indefinite hiatus due to burnout; sorry!]

kiss me slowly (so i don't forget) by xiwangmu

(xingyun; humor; romance; light angst; xingqiu-centric; 8k words; oneshot)

Wangshu Inn Bulletin Board

Guest Message: My best friend whom I harbor affections for kissed me last night, but due to his special condition he does not recall a single moment of it. I am quite conflicted about whether to disclose these events to him or not, because that would most certainly require me to confess my feelings as well. If anyone has experience in romancing boys with excessive positive energy, this one humbly asks you to share some advice.

Reply: Our greatest apologies—although we would like to offer some words in response, we simply cannot decipher your handwriting. Perhaps you may return with a neater message next time?

time trials by idlestars

(xingyun/many ships; humor; modern au; xingyun-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

A modern social media AU.

Xingqiu Teases Demons. Chongyun Almost Cries. [The clip shows Xingqiu, lit by the sickly green of night vision, as he stares bored into a dark room. He’s alone - Chongyun left to see if Xingqiu could lure out the ghosts. Xingqiu glances at the camera, smirks, and then opens his mouth.

“Hey demons, it’s me, yah boy.”]

OTHER/GEN

woe be the wallet of the god of wealth by glassdrachma

(gen; humor; identity reveal; keqing/zhongli-centric; 12k words; finished)

Or, the story of how the Yuheng of the Qixing came to idolize, befriend, and discover the identity of the God of Geo, in that order.

(personal comments: hilarious, made me burst out into laughter multiple times, and was just a masterful piece of writing)

to dream of dust by miao_x

(guili/gen; ANGST; hurt/no comfort; zhongli-centric; 5k words; oneshot)

Some nights, Zhongli dreams.

He dreams of soft light, golden song, and a gentle breeze whispering tales of millennia past. It is warm, familiar, and comforting.

It feels like home.

And then he opens his eyes, and awakes to reality.

(my bookmarks: oh zhongli... made me cry)

To drown in your own tears by C_rin_nyan

(guili/gen; ANGST; TEARS; PAIN; zhongli-centric; 2k words; oneshot)

As Rex Lapis, he had never shed a tear, even as he slaughtered hundreds, destruction following his every step. As Zhongli, he had shed much more than he would like to admit, however.

Or, “Zhongli’s soul gave its last scream long ago, yet even now, the echo of said sound was still strong enough to reach Rex Lapis.”

#fic rec #fic recs #fanfic #fanfic recs #genshin #genshin impact #ao3 #chili #tartali #zhongchi #xingyun #childe #zhongli #xingqiu #chongyun #venti #zhongven #guili #guizhong #angst

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phandombigotryarchive · 4 years

Text

Ayo @madamefaust ? You gonna tell me why you're writing about the white ass french De Chagny's being involved in the SLAVE TRADE?

Playing into the tragic mulatto trope by making Raoul half Black for some diversity points? (See the word bastard when referred to Raoul's Blackness.) All for some fucking fanfiction?

Do you even know the implications of naming a Black/White biracial child a bastard and flat out stating that their white side was involved in the slave trade? It means that child's mother was possibly r*ped. You are implying that Raoul's mother was a victim of slavery and sexual trauma. You are playing into the tragic mulatto trope. You are anti-Black.

You decide to write Raoul as Black. Then you state that his family is involved in the slave trade in the description AND ON TOP OF THAT YOU MAKE HIM A TRAGIC MULATTO. How do you even sound? 💀 FUNNY how you only care about writing Black characters when it's to exploit and fetishize Black trauma for this lily white ass fandom. Much less, for a pharoga fic! (I know most of you pharoga shippers/writers are white. Yes that's a bad thing!)

Is you even BLACK too, madamefaust ? 🤔 And don't give me that "oh I did my research" I DO NOT CARE. IT IS NOT IN A NON-BLACK'S INTERESTS TO BE WRITING BOUT US. You don't speak for us. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO SLAVERY LMFAOOOOO

Let me not forget the fact that she based Raoul's story off the Dumas family. Alexandere Dumas was a biracial Black and White man who wrote the Three Musketeers. His Father, Thomas Alexandre Dumas was a born into slavery in Haiti but was freed and fought in the French army under Napoleon. Do you know how disrespectful it is to base a fictional white aristocratic family off a Black family traumatized by slavery and anti-Blackness for your fanfic? Did you know that many of these BLACK PEOPLE in Haiti suffered brutal conditions under slavery by the French? That many of them died in the Haitian Revolution obtaining their freedom. How could you be so disrespectful as to base off A FICTIONAL WHITE MAN OFF A REAL LIFE BLACK ENSLAVED FAMILY?? MUCH LESS FROM HAITI OF ALL PLACES??????

Do you think slavery is a fun joke? Do you think that me and many other members of my diaspora not knowing where we come from as a result of COLONIALISM and ENSLAVEMENT is something to use as a fanfic trope? Do you think this is a fucking game to you? That making an aristocratic white french family being aligned on the slave trade cute to you?

FUCK YOU.

This is everyone who left a kudos and bookmarked. Fuck all y'all. Notice any familiar faces? 🤔

I don't expect nothing from this fandom about blocking and accountability cause y'all stay being weirdly racist + colorist with the Daroga, interacting with transphobes and all other types of heinous shit.

So I just want you all to know that hell is a hot place if you keep interacting with this person. And madamefaust? Stay the fuck away from Black people and don't forget to donate to Black Trans Women if you even have a slight bit of remorse. I know you be interacting with them transphobes around here (we can see who you reblog from. I know you've seen the call out posts).

That includes the rest of y'all in this fandom too. Since we're on the topic of anti-Blackness, non-Black people in this fandom love to make and share fanart of Black Christine, yet they call and paint Erik as abusive while they draw their Black Christine fanart. What does that tell you, when you have a Black woman in a relationship or friendship with a white man, who you view as abusive? This implies that you want Black women to be abused. You people claim to love Norm Lewis' Phantom and interact with non-white adaptations of the characters yet you paint Erik abusive and depraved. So why do you like Norm's Erik so much, huh? What does that tell you about how you see a Black Erik? You people profit off the pain and consumption of Black people under the guise of your false representation. You are anti Black and cover it under the guise of, "we welcome everyone."

You don't.

You don't make Black fans safe with interacting with @filthybonnet an anti-Black terf as well as madamefaust who thinks she's so high and mighty as to exploit Black trauma under the guise of "historical accuracy". You don't make Irani, darkskinned and Muslim fans feel safe when you fetishize the Daroga or call him slurs under the guise of calling out racism. The monkey "jokes" aren't funny. You are colorists. You make make mentally ill fans unsafe when you demonize Erik's trauma. You make fans with facial differences unsafe when you demonize Erik's face. You consistently make trans women unsafe by refusing to stop interacting with terfs. We can go on forever.

And if you just scroll past this post, knowing what goes on in this bullshit ass fandom, you're part of the problem. I bet y'all don't even care anyways.

Anyways Happy Black History month and fuck the ph*ndom.

I do not like y'all.

I better not see not one of y'all ever interact with my fics. I'll see all y'all in hell ♥️ and I do hope all y'all block me too. That's what you're good for anyways LMFAOOOOO

Better not see y'all bum asses talmbout ooh "I love Norm Lewis' Phantom. Ooh, I love Derrick Davis Phantom 🥰" while y'all support this anti-Black racist white woman. You only love Black people when they're suffering or when they're performing for you. You consume our pain and trauma and expect us to hold hands with you while you view us as subhuman. Similar to how y'all treat Erik.

Must be why you like Black Phantoms so much. Anyways.

Oh look what we have here! madamefaust putting out some performative ass shit about how she "loves" Norm Lewis whilst writing the tragic mulatto trope ft slavery on Raoul De Chagny 🤔

(I won't delete this btw, it's people like you that make this fandom impossible to navigate as a non-white person. You are a grown ass woman. I'm sure you can handle the pressure if you can write a slavery AU. I ain't listening to your non-Black crocodile tears too, so don't come into my inbox playing kumbaya cause it's not gonna work on my ass. Go read a book on anti-Blackness if you're such a librarian or better yet? Stay away from Black people all together. I know you be liking and reblogging posts featuring and from Black people too. I'm not accepting no apology neither. Go take that up with my ancestors.)

P.S: A colonized person venting out their oppression via the medium they enjoy is different from a privileged person weaponizing oppression for their own consumption and enjoyment. The historical traumatizing brutalization of Black PEOPLE is not your little plaything.

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astriefer · 4 years

Note

“Please hold me.” for thomastair (ofc bc that's what you said) 🥺

Thank you for this! @littlx-songbxrd you asked for this as well. I'm sorry it's so bad.

~~~~~

Trust me with thy heart

Pairing: Thomastair

Words: 4,537

Contains mild angst, some self harm and hurt/comfort.

Note I am awful at writing angst or hurt/comfort. This whole poor writing is based on miscommunication, much or less, or the fear to let others close.

~~~~~

Thomas wasn't fond of fights.

Demons were one thing. Their destiny as Shadowhunters was to protect mankind from those filthy monsters who invade their world. They brought disorder and death. The people he cared about were a different tale.

A light jest with his friends, why not? A banter with his father about taking the coat or not while going outside? Sure. But not a very tumultuous, tempestuous strife with them. He preferred them all to get along with each other.

Thomas liked even less when it was him involved in the disagreement.

He spent the last day jogging between massive training seasons, hanging out with his friends, and losing himself in his thoughts. Now, he avoided everyone in favor of reading Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. He made a special effort to tell no one where he was going, so non could bother him and ask him questions.

So Thomas was stunned when Ariadne Bridgestock, of all people, rushed through the entry in an unmatched combination of grace and ivory skirts, then flopped herself onto the armchair in front of Thomas.

While she had had a pleasant expression on her face, there was a dangerous gleam in her eyes. If Thomas hadn't known better, he would've sworn she came here to murder him.

"You and Alastair fought," she stated.

Thomas glanced between his book to her determined face twice, considering his options. Then, on behalf of good manners, he put a bookmark on the current page he pretended to be reading for half an hour. "Is it Alastair's way to tell me to speak to him? If so, please tell him not to embroil any other folks in our relationship."

"He hadn't sent me," Ariadne ignored the last part of his sentence. "But he did not arrive for our conclave."

A spark of concern lightened up in Thomas, yet he repressed it. He was angry with Alastair, Thomas reminded himself. "And what have you speculated I can do about it?"

She looked at him funny. "Talk to him, I presume."

"Ariadne," he tried, weariness falling heavy on him. "While I appreciate your concern, I doubt Alastair wants to see me. In fact, I doubt whether I want to see him right now. I know you confide in each other-" more than Alastair does with him, the bitter thought tore its way into his head. "And your intentions are well, but I will highly prefer to keep this between myself and Alastair."

He thought this would give her down and make her apologize. "Alastair wouldn't have sent someone else, and he didn't solicit help from myself," she said instead. "He would've given time to you both to collect your minds, and then come to you in clearer mind."

It was right. He knew it was. "So this parley is all you?"

"As I said, Yes. I worried for my friend, who happened to be your partner."

Thomas brushed his thumb on the spine of the book, musing over her words. "Why would you be worried?"

"He stood me up. I came by your flat later, just for him to say nothing has happened. When I asked where you were, he conceded you two had a big bump in the road."

"That's a nice way to put it," Thomas murmured. "I frankly wished to be left alone. It's nothing-"

"Thomas," Her amber eyes met hazel ones. "You are good at many things. Fighting demons, and keeping the rest of the Thieves out of trouble, for example."

He quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

"Lying is not one of them."

Thomas swallowed, endeavoring to hide the feeling of hurt off his face. Recalling what happened a few days before made his whole body ache in pain. "So Alastair and I had a row. It always happens with lads."

"It's not just a lad for you," she pressed. He was wide aware of the chastisement in her words. "It's Alastair. And never have I seen him the way he looked when I checked on him."

"What do you mean?" he asked after he perceived her words. "Alastair was absolutely fine when I left the flat."

"You have to see for yourself." Ariadne said, "Go to him."

Despite the knots formed in the abdomen, he dithered. "Things ended up stormy when we last spoke. Maybe he's still mad. Maybe I'm still mad."

It wasn't just Alastair who was mad. He wondered how Alastair had been this past day, and how was he feeling, among many other thoughts. Yet the cloud of exhaustion and hurt surrounding him perturbated the nervousness. He was allowed to be upset about what happened. It sure wasn't nothing. Not on his part, at most. Why couldn't Alastair just-

"Excuses are not appreciated," Ariadne announced, "So you better confront him already, or I swear I shall chase you to the end of the Earth with my electrum whip." Ariadne threatened, and that what had taken to wake Thomas out of his hesitation.

"Of course," he sighed, "Because I don't have enough troubles already."

She brushed it off again with a smile, and Thomas felt mildly annoyed. He hadn't shown it. "Sort it out. It will benefit the two of you to tackle the problem."

She left no place for arguments. Utterly abandoning the book, Thomas rose to his feet and went to leave the room.

He was glad to get out of the grip of this confusing confab, but he was even more unsure if to listen to her advice.

He was still angry with Alastair.

~~~~~

A veil of fog surrounded the city. It was a prevalent London day, cool and cloudy. The wind is blowing hard, welcoming passersby in a burst of freezing breeze. A thunderstorm on its way, they said.

But those were the last of things that perturbed Alastair's peace of mind. It matched his mood just fine. If someone was to describe him, curled up on his bed alone, he could imagine being portrayed as forlorn and tormented.

No, what bothered him was a particular someone that left and hasn't returned. Alastair hated he still hoped Thomas would return and make him less cold.

His breath was heavy, and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered words that haunted him for weeks in the past. I believed you were more than what others said about you. I conceived myself beneath all the harsh words, was someone with a kind soul waiting to be seen. Was it all a lie I told myself?

Darkness flooded his senses. Trying to get any portion of self-control on his body he could, Alastair rose to his feet, glancing out of the window on unsteady legs without seeing anything at all. Gather yourself together.

But the words burned deep then, and they burned deep now. That was a battle against himself he meant to lose. The cold spread not only from the world beyond the window but from within him. It pulled out his ugly head, writhing and furious, desperately trying to break free and rise to the surface. People walked in the streets, oblivious to his troubles just as he was to theirs.

Thomas wasn't there.

Thomas wasn't there, and Cordelia wasn't there, and anyone he loved wasn't there. He locked himself in their flat for the past day, overthinking and speculating and wondering why did he have to be the way he is. If Thomas had finally realized he deserved someone so much better than Alastair, would he be surprised? Alastair was aware of this fact too well. The way he looked at him when they fought, the shaky hands when he opened the door, and the hours of waiting in case Thomas will return, just for nothing to happen. What does it mean if not that Alastair finally made Thomas give up and leave?

This inner part of him was crying, demanded to be heard, to be set free. A shrill cry came to his ears, and it took him a moment to perceive it belonged to him.

His vision became vague, his head ached, and everything spun around. He tried to lay a hand on the wall - only to find he miscalculated the distance and fell ungracefully on his knees. His heart pounded in his chest while the darkness tried to pull him in; He tried to take a breath and dozens of small knives tore his lungs up. He shrank, gasping for air that didn't come.

Everything seemed blurry, all his mind could engross in was the words Thomas Lightwood told him, the cold truth dripping from them, freezing Alastair all over again.

Alastair was accountable for all the hideous things he'd done and said, unquestionably. How weak is he that he hides behind shallow faces and vicious words? What a dolt he is, hurting a person, mainly the only person outside of his family that seemed to genuinely care for him. His words rang in his head, Thomas's voice haunting every corner.

He sank lower, his breathing gurgling, reaching out in search of something stable, something that would serve as a pillar in the chaos that ensued around him. His hand extended out to the still air and then groped for something to hold on the floor. That came the way of a cold, sharp object that lay on the ground. He gripped it tightly, and he groaned in pain and relief at the physical ache that eased his mind.

"Alastair?" A voice called.

~~~~~

Thomas was about to lose his right mind. Alastair was trembling vigorously, barely able to stand on his feet that were shaking like a leaf swaying in the wind.

"Alastair," Thomas stuttered, with no response back. His indignation vanished to immediate panic. "Alastair?" he repeated more stubbornly.

His chest went up and down quickly; His eyes were wide like that of a deer caught in the automobile light. When Thomas tried to take a step toward him, the smaller man stiffened and stood bolt upright. Thomas stopped dead.

"I came at the behest of Ariadne," he said, just for the sake of talking. Alastair hadn't told him to quiet, so he kept going. "And because I was worried about you."

"Leave," Alastair hissed out frantically. Thomas couldn't stop the throbbing burn striking through his body.

Thomas took a few steps back, allowing Alastair his space. He had no temptation to leave as he requested - Thomas simply waited aside, for a chance Alastair would change his mind. He recalled the nights he woke up from a nightmare, dazed and overwhelmed with emotions, and how Alastair always reassured him in the dead of night.

This Alastair seemed lost in his own mind, unable to escape, and it terrified Thomas. Yet, he shoved the dread aside and put on the most relaxing facade he could. He was told to be quite good at it.

"I'm right here, Azizam."

"Everyone leaves. You can do as well."

Somewhere in his mind, the pieces joined together, like a colossal puzzle. Was he afraid Thomas would leave him? That he would give up on him? he told him he could leave in their run-in, because he thought everyone will leave him in the end?

"I don't know. I don't know how to do it." To cease making the wrong decision. To cease pushing people away. To cease hurting people. "man nemidânam."

"Alastair, can you hear me?"

As he found out, Alastair did not hear him. "I don't want to hurt you. I already hurt you so much." Alastair went on, choking on his own words. Thomas was in full panic mode, and he hurried further toward Alastair with barely contained alarm.

I find you worth any pain to come, Thomas thought.

"It's fine," Thomas said. "I am fine. I want you to be fine as well. It's much more important to me than whether you may or may not harm me."

Something split in his face, and he took a deep breath down his throat. His eyes snapped to Thomas. The terror on his face made Thomas's heart sink.

"Alastair?" he asked, but it didn't manage to elicit a response from the other man.

Thomas drew closer to Alastair, not missing the flinch passing the half-Persian's body. Thomas could hear his breath, shallow and trembling. He could painfully see the tremor of his hands. The wide eyes that so clearly tried to hold back tears. He took one step closer, and Alastair took one back.

Thomas imminently came to a halt. Alastair squeezed hard against the wall. He looked like a captive animal on the verge of losing hope, a man pushed to the edge, an injured soul.

Thomas took one step closer. With his enormous figure, it all needed to reach Alastair. He wrapped his arms around the shorter man, didn't let go even when Alastair squirmed, trying to shove him aside, fought to set free from Thomas's grip. His hold only tightened, and he used his strength to shove Alastair's head into his chest. He kept him close, kept even when Alastair protested, kept his hold when Alastair Surrendered abruptly, sinking into the soft material of Thomas's clothing, even when sobs began and his chest got wet from the tears of his love.

Thomas pressed his lips to the dark hair, held Alastair steadily while he cried. No words of reassurance passed between them. Truly, Thomas wasn't sure Alastair would have heard him if he tried. He knew the touch was what Alastair needed. Their embrace was clumsy and distorted, but it was enough. Enough to tell Alastair he wasn't alone; Thomas wouldn't have let him go through this alone.

With a soft sigh, Thomas finally let loose of his grip. He started to pull away and was surprised when he felt fists clasping on the fabric of the front of his sleeveshirt.

"Please," Alastair whispered desperately."Please hold me."

Thomas couldn't find it in himself to deny it to Alastair. They slipped to the floor. Alastair buried his face in Thomas's chest once again, shaking silently. Thomas felt his mouth forming words on his chest, although he could not tell which. All the while, his hands embraced the slim, shaking form of Alastair.

A few minutes had passed. Or an hour. Or a couple of days. Thomas didn't feel the time had passed while he tried to console his beloved one. He closed his eyes and concentrated on moving his hand on Alastair's small back, kept him close. The other hand came to caress the space between his ear and jawline, where he was creating circles on the tender skin.

Slowly, The dark-haired's breath became more even.

"Here you are," Thomas let a breath of both exhaustion and relief leave his body. "Can you hear me, Eshgham?"

"Y-Yes."

"Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"No."

Thomas sighed inertly as he held the other gentleman in his warm hands, promising reassurance and no judgment. Alastair, for the matter, clang to him as if he was drowning and Thomas was his only lifeline.

He never liked to fight with Alastair. It rarely happened, but when it did it left a bitter taste in his mouth and a pang at his heart. But he was not going to give up - not on this. He remembered his mother once told him couples fight, sometimes, because they still care about what the other does. It was their first argument with their new agreement. It didn't make him feel any better at the time. All his life he had been surrounded with unconditioned love, never exposed to the arguments and the imperfect details. It made him view love as just sweet and honey, while he learned that there's more with Alastair.

There's the giving. And the receiving. The trust in the other's intentions and the willingness to make them your priority foremost of all. The disagreements make you understand when your boundaries are and open a place for learning and acceptance. The balance you build with time, something he hoped he could shape with the man in front of him.

The trust part, to his belief, was something they still were working on. Alastair had leaned on him, and Thomas wondered it he thought now he calmed down, Thomas would leave him again. He did the last time.

"I'm not leaving," They locked eyes, and for some reason, he felt hope. "Alastair, I'm not leaving."

There are very few things he wanted more than Alastair. Verily, He was what he longed for above everything else. He wanted Alastair and everything he was.

Alastair didn't answer, but he averted his eyes.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Alastair seemed slightly lost, but he nodded and weakly stood on his legs. He followed Thomas while Thomas flung himself up and let Alastair sat on their bed beside him. The comfortable place always made both feel better - The mix of English and Persian and Spanish books on the bookshelves. The notebooks full of poems Thomas kept beside his side of the bed. Alastair's spears collection. The artworks they bought when they visited art galleries.Even the soft yellow light was a source of relief.

"You are mad," proclaimed Alastair in a hoarse voice.

"So are you," Thomas returned. Alastair shook his head, and Thomas's eyebrows rose. "So what then, if not mad?"

"Mostly nauseous," Alastair murmured, managing to startle a breathy chuckle out of Thomas. "But also bloody exhausted."

Thomas fumble after the right words, before deciding he should be candid. "I didn't like being apart from you in those few days. But I stick to what I told you before, Alastair." He saw it happening - the wall of defense Alastair was building up again after the last one had crushed. "Let me bring some fresh air into here."

Thomas tried to ventilate the room well while Alastair sank into the mattress and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. "If you call the London foggy, polluted air fresh, then sure."

A bit of relief passed because of Alastair's quip. He didn't lose it. "It seems you and my father share this opinion."

Thomas scanned Alastair, then noticed the cut on his right palm. Absentmindedly, he approached his side.

"Why did you do it?"

It took Alastair a moment to conceive what he was referring to. He hastily covered it with his other hand, but Thomas saw it. "I - didn't mean to."

Thomas watched the cut in awe as if it was imaginary. However, when he grazed the skin, Alastair winced.

Thomas wasn't sure how to counter this. Their fight. What just happened. Alastair didn't either. Or did he wish to pretend none of this happened? That he -both of them- weren't hurt?

This thought wasn't toleratable to Thomas.

And that's why, after he took his stele out of his dresser and was applying an iratze on Alastair's forearm, that he asked, "I want to talk about what happened the day before yesterday."

He could feel Alastair stiffening, his muscles tensing. "I was upset," Alastair said cautiously. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Tom."

"You shouldn't have," Thomas agreed. He was done with the iratze and put the stele aside. "But that's not why I'm distraught."

Alastair shot him a tumultuous look. Thomas took a deep breath before looking Alastair dead in the eye. "You were upset, but you wouldn't tell me why. You grumble about things relentlessly, but when you're truly shaken you don't share at all. It's not - just this argument. It's not just one thing. Those small moments you hesitate whether to tell me the truth. The times you don't." He inhaled, letting the cold air fill his lungs. He resisted looking away from Alastair's face, didn't let his eyes flutter around the room like they were trying to do. "Love is also built on trust and communication. If we don't have those, what is left?" He didn't need to hear Alastair's reply. "We talk, and we share, yet I cannot understand why you're so grumpy at times. I need you to tell me."

"Can't one just be pissed off at the world?"

"Alastair."

"Many things can upset me," Alastair said. Thomas might have hallucinated it, but his voice was a bit shaky. "Do you want to hear them all?"

"Yes," Thomas answered immediately. His tone was sincere.

Alastair's hand reached to the other side of the bed, a nonverbal request. They still couldn't stop staring at each other. But not playfully, or lovingly, but earnestly.

Alastair, naked of his facade and any snide remarks. Alastair, whom he grew to know and rarely showed up to many else.

I do trust you. I care for you. were the meaning behind Alastair's gaze. All Thomas wanted is to lean on and forget everything. But still - it was not his pride making him relucent. That was much deeper than that.

He lingered there just for a moment too long, enough to make Alastair believe he declined the request, and his hand quirked in pain for a moment. His face became emotionless - and Thomas had feared he misleadingly deceived Alastair that he didn't want them after all. That he didn't want him.

In moments, he climbed on the bed. He coddled Alastair, silently and diligently. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Alastair retorted eventually. He rubbed his eyes and laid back on the bed board. Then after a moment. "Everything."

"I hate it when I see you suffer and I don't know why," Thomas whispered. "I want to help. More than anything. But you push me away and I am left to think it might be because of me, because-"

"No," Alastair said firmly, extending his hands to cup Thoams's. "You have never been anything but good to me. It's just-," he broke off.

Thomas searched his foggy eyes. "I don't blame you," he told him, "If it's hard for you. But trust me enough to tell me what bothers you, thus we could face it together." He collected his hands in his own, lifting them so he could kiss his knuckles. "I know I want to stand by your side whatever the cost." he was certain about that; No whirlwind to come could change it. "Will you let me?"

Instead of an answer, Alastair kissed him.

Thomas knew he was kind, forgiving, trusting. He knew Alastair was slow to trust, slow to reveal his true feelings, hiding behind sharp words to secure himself from being harmed by people close to him. He knew the world broke his heart - so viciously, and that he took the pieces that were left. It was undoubtedly hard. Alastair had changed so much, yet Thomas wanted to understand, to reassure Alastair they were in this together.

"Hamsar-am," Alastair said when they pulled away. "I will try."

Thomas smiled at the endearment term. His heart was throbbing fast. "I was mad," he confessed, "because you refused to tell me what's wrong. You pretended. And I - I don't want facades, my love. I want the truth. I want you."

"I don't want to be weak around the people I love," Alastair whispered, and Thomas understood. To what extent did he fear that if he shows weakness, his friends and family would suffocate him again, shield him from the world as they did when he was younger? How much he feared at slightest of weakness shown, he would be smothered as Thomas had been when he was too small, too fragile?

But Alastair never did that. He supported him in his way, allowed him to be weak without acting as if Thomas was made of glass. "So not weak to everyone," He was astonished he found it in himself to laugh softly. "Each other will be enough. We can be vulnerable with one another."

Alastair stared at him for a long moment. Eventually, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Okay."

"This is just another way of trust."

So Alastair told him. He told him about the rumors he heard from the London enclave about his family, the looks he had gotten. Of the words of people who were white while Alastair was brown. He didn't mind, much, but it drew attention to his family. And to Thomas. Respectable family and a kind heart seemingly weren't enough to make the rumors - and who spread them - silence. The opposite is correct - the fire burned even brighter, and its flame was like cutting knives. The people who matter didn't care about their agreement, and Alastair long stopped paying attention to rumors. But when it was about Thomas, he said, he had been furious. The stories unfolded, the truth shone through, and the more Alastair talked - not just about rumors, but on the way some of the people treated him, of the Cornwall's townhouse and its residents, the things his soul troubled about were finally out.

Thomas listened, understood, stroked Alastair's cheek when he seemed to start shaking again, but now out of relief instead of concealed agony.

They sunk into a comfortable silence in the end. Up until Alastair inquired, "You were out for so long. Where were you?"

"At the institute," Thomas replied. The concept of coming back to his parents' townhouse, admitting the quarrel, rewinding it all in his head countless times while enduring Sophie and Gideon's worrying looks, was nothing he wished to do. "Or somewhere I could avoid anyone."

"And now?" he asked tentatively. "You come back?"

"I have no intentions to leave this bed even if Ariadne herself will come to pluck me off the sheets." He affirmed.

Alastair's smirk became genuine this time. "Ariadne was here today."

When Thomas said "I know" he got a quizzical look from Alastair so he supplied, "She found my whereabouts and made me go confront you. Not much subtly, may I add."

"Yes. This jinx made me open up the door and refused to leave until I told her what happened."

Thomas silently laughed.

"I..suppose it was rather cathartic," Alastair said. It was evening now, Thomas noted, and none of them found it in themselves to get up and eat supper. They just kept their bodies close, relishing their air of comfort.

"Indeed. This, this was good. Splendidly better than reading the same page over and over again in the Devil's tavern or pretending to care what waistcoat Matthew is taking to the impending party at Anna's flat."

"You thought the place you and your squad go to hide is the best place to hide from them?" Alastair asked.

"It seemed reasonable at the time," Thomas murmured. "Each of us has a kind of hideout, have we not?"

Where was Alastair's safe hideaway? At home, with a book in hand? At museums, drinking in art and beauty? Was it hiking in the streets of London by himself and enjoying the view and the whispers of nature?

"You," Alastair said. Thomas hadn't realized he voiced his question aloud. A tired, small smile played on Alastair's lips, yet his words were soft, plain and simple. Their eyes locked, and he could feel how genuine Alastair was. "You are my hideout."

~~~~~

Dictionary:

man nemidânam - I don't know

Eshgham - my love

Hamsar-am - my equal head, my better half

#alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #the last hours #my fics #thomastair fics #for the matter Thomas does NOT know how to help Alastair in the state he was in. He doesn't know the right way to approach this.#They just found solace in physical affection so he found it fitting there too #I'm sorry #littlx-songbxrd #carstairstessa #Besides I take centuries to write because not only I am extremely busy (and sunk way too deep into the fluff fic and Choi)#but have to wait for inspiration to strike. It works not another way.#so sorry

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nyctolovian · 3 years

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Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Religious Discussion, Forgiveness, Guilt, Religious Guilt, Fallen Angels, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), (sort of?), Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Post-Canon, Post not-pocalypse, Canon Compliant, Coping, Warning: somewhat critical of god

Summary: When Aziraphale and Crowley's wings turn the same grey, Aziraphale does not take it well and begins to fear that he might be Falling with a capital F. Crowley finds his angel in a crushing spiral into immense self-blame and guilt, desperately seeking God's forgiveness.

"Heya, angel!” Crowley announced as he swung the door to the bookshop open. “I’ve got some really important stuff to discuss. Urgently. So could you maybe, um, close shop early today?”

Aziraphale, who was shelving some books, twirled round to face Crowley, already lighting up with glee at the sound of his voice. “Well, of course!” he said, placing the books down on the stool beside himself. He’d always liked having an excuse for closing early so it was lovely to have his favourite one walking right through the doors on a Monday afternoon. “What exactly would you like to discuss?”

With a snap of Crowley’s fingers, the door was miraculously locked and the open/close card was flipped. “Here’s not good,” he replied, extra fidgety today as he eased his weight on one leg and then the other. “Upstairs maybe?”

The smile on Aziraphale’s face slowly slipped as he was ushered up the stairs to his living quarters. “Oh dear… Is something the matter?”

Crowley audibly winced. “Upstairs first, alright?”

Aziraphale let out a noise of confusion but allowed himself to be guided upstairs. Crowley pushed him to sit on the bed that miraculously appeared just a couple weeks after the Almost-pocalypse. He set his fists atop his knees and looked up at Crowley, who removed his sunglasses.

“I need you to take out your wings,” he said.

“Pardon?”

Of course, Crowley caught the tension in the angel’s voice and said calmly, “Your wings. I’d like to check something.”

Aziraphale nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, he drew his wings out into their dimensional plane. He felt his back grow heavy with a comfortable weight and his wings, slightly stiff from disuse, stretched the aches out of itself.

When he opened his eyes again, Crowley was looking at his wings. His eyebrows raised as he muttered, “Yup. I figured.”

Aziraphale frowned as he curled his wings forward. His jaw fell when instead of the pure white wings he was used to, mottled grey wings came into view. “Wh-What is this?” he cried. Then, his mind did a twist and he looked at Crowley anxiously. “What about yours?” he said, standing up and holding Crowley’s arms.

“Calm down,” he said, gently pulling Aziraphale’s hands away. Then, he took his own wings out as well, and they were no longer pitch black either, and were instead the same mottled grey as Aziraphale’s. “A bit of a shame, honestly. I’ve always liked black,” Crowley joked. “We’re really on our own side, aren’t we?” Like a gentleman asking for a dance, he held a hand out towards Aziraphale.

Aziraphale, however, flinched away. “I’ve clearly done something wrong.”

Crowley frowned. “What could you have possibly done wrong, angel?”

“I-I don’t know,” Aziraphale admitted as he paced around the bedroom. “But I must have done something that warranted this change.”

“I changed too, didn’t I?” Crowley said, stretching his own grey wing out. “We have the same wings.”

“Yes, but it’s different, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, frustration building. “If my wings are turning grey, then it must mean I’m…” A shiver ran down his spine as he looked up at Crowley with imploring blue eyes. “Could it be… that I am Falling?”

“What?!”

Aziraphale wrung his hands and his gaze fell to the wooden flooring. “That’s the only reasonable explanation, isn’t it? This is… a sign that I’m Falling. F-For going against one of God’s plans, perhaps.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “And I’m getting back in heaven’s favour. I’m being forgiven. Lovely.” He sighed. "Listen, you're not Falling. I know what that's like and this isn't it. God's a lot crueler than this."

"M-maybe She's giving me a second chance."

Crowley pulled a face of doubt. "Are we really talking about the same God?" He sighed. "Besides, even if you really are falling—which you aren't—it ain't that bad honestly. I quite like being a demon sometimes. For one, black wings are much cooler than white ones."

"But I don't want to fall! I like being an angel!" Aziraphale exclaimed. He took a deep breath as he clenched and unclenched his hands. “I… I need to do something. Seek forgiveness. Make up for my mistake. My wings are only turning grey so I’m clearly being given a chance to redeem myself, right?”

Worry set into Crowley’s features firmly now. “Since when do we care about what heaven thinks anyway? They tried to murder you with hellfire!”

“That was just Gabriel and those angels,” Aziraphale argued. “I just… I want to do right by the Lord.”

“You saw how She didn’t care about Earth, didn’t you? Whole bloody apocalypse just for the stupid war.”

“It probably was within God’s ineffable plan for the apocalypse to be stopped.”

Crowley threw his hands up. “God,” he said, “didn’t stop anything. We did!” He sighed, trying to reign in the rage that he knew was trickling into his voice. He lowered his voice into something gentle again as he reached for Aziraphale. “Angel–”

“Don’t!” Aziraphale said, snatching his hand back. “Don’t call me that!” His anger instantaneously melted, however, upon seeing hurt flashing across Crowley’s golden eyes. “I need some time by myself,” he said. “Can you give me that?”

Crowley’s eyes wobbled with hesitation. Finally, he said, “Sure, angel.”

***

Crowley gave Aziraphale a full day before popping by again to check on him. The first worrying sign had been how the shop was closed, despite it being only barely noon. As much as Aziraphale liked closing early, he usually stayed open till at least 2pm just so he could say that the shop had been open.

Crowley had also noticed that the books Aziraphale had left on the stool were still sitting there, untouched. He cursed under his breath and dashed up the stairs to the living quarters. He was somewhat relieved to see the angel at his worktable. Too busy muttering to himself, he hadn’t noticed Crowley enter at all.

Cautiously, Crowley walked to his side. Atop the table were copious amounts of notes and several different volumes of the Bible. Concerned, Crowley placed a hand on his shoulder, and Aziraphale jerked back.

“Ah,” he exhaled. He flusteredly smiled at Crowley as he adjusted his reading glasses. “You’ve come just in time, my dear. It seems that I need your opinion on this matter.” He picked up a notebook from under a pile of papers, flipped to a bookmarked page and continued, “Do you think it’s that time I used that miracle to reserve that last remaining pancake two days ago? It was really quite a frivolous miracle, and perhaps that was the last straw.”

“Wait,” Crowley said, his hand returning to Aziraphale’s shoulder, this time firm. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Why my wings turned grey of course!”

Crowley gestured to the mess of a table. “And what does all this have anything to do with it?”

“I’m trying to figure out what exactly I did wrong that upset God and turned my wings grey.” Aziraphale sighed and dug up another notebook, which he opened to a dog-eared page. “I was also thinking perhaps… Well, maybe the punishment was only just issued yesterday and it wasn’t actually for something recent. I’m also thinking maybe it was about that time in 1367 when I poured–”

“1367?!” Crowley exclaimed. He grabbed one of the papers off the table and read it. “578 AD?! Wh-” He looked at Aziraphale, brimming with concern. “Why are you going so far back?”

“Because I’ve been doing so much wrong!” Aziraphale cried, twisting the ring on his pinky. “They… My indiscretions. They began since God knows when. I’ve been doing so much wrong since… since the beginning of time, I believe. I don’t even know if giving away that flaming sword had actually been the right thing.” His hands were shaking with torment. "I'm such a terrible angel."

The demon's heart damn near broke in two at the sight of his angel in this state. He looked at the mess of paper and books in disbelief. He shook his head. "This is just too much, angel," he pleaded. "You shouldn't be made to list down every single thing you did in the past six thousand years and made to… to analyse it all."

"I didn't want to entertain the possibility but…" Aziraphale's voice was soft, distraught, vulnerable, like a child asking their parents to check under the bed for monsters. "But… what if it's everything, Crowley? How could I seek forgiveness from God if it's just… everything?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know how I…"

Crowley leaned in closer. There was a vice around his chest, clamping down and hurting him. Why must his angel suffer like this? What has he ever done to deserve this pain? This crushing guilt? “They’re mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes, all sorts of them. We just do better next time, right?”

"But I shouldn't be making mistakes! I'm an angel. I'm meant to do good." Aziraphale pushed Crowley away and picked up his pen and notebook again. "I need to find out what it was that I've done wrong. Otherwise, it'd be terribly insincere to apologise without even knowing what I'm apologising for, isn't it?"

Crowley ripped the pen and notebook out of Aziraphale's hand. "If the Almighty wants an apology, She'd better get down here and explain what She's so bloody upset about!"

Aziraphale slammed the table. "She shouldn't have to! I'm an angel. I ought to know."

"No! It's just unfair. God and Her ineffable plans, moving in mysterious ways and playing ridiculous card games we don't know the rules to in the dark.” He walked in a tight circle, running a hand through his hair, before turning to face Aziraphale again. “How could we be expected to know? Even now, I still don't even know why I got tossed down into a pool of hot boiling sulfur because She never bothered to explain anything! Six thousand years and still no explanation whatsoever!"

Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley felt a pang of guilt.

Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, God hasn’t explained anything then, and She isn’t starting anytime soon. Okay?”

Plucking his reading glasses from his face and closing his eyes to massage his nose bridge, Aziraphale said, “I want to do right by Her. Why is that so hard?”

Crowley sagged. It hurt him terribly to see his angel so distraught, so frantic, so helpless.

“Perhaps…” Aziraphale breathed. “Perhaps, I’m not worthy of it.”

A beat.

"I forgive you," the demon whispered.

Aziraphale's eyes flew open and he stared at Crowley, eyebrows tightly knitted. "You forgive me?" he bit out. At the silence, his brow furrowed further with fury. "You can't do that. Take that back."

"I forgive you," he repeated.

"What are you forgiving me for?" Aziraphale yelled.

"All the wrongs you did. Everything. I forgive you."

"You can’t!" he insisted.

“Why not?”

Aziraphale glared in silence.

"You're not made to carry six thousand years worth of self-blame and guilt. You're a good angel, even if God doesn't recognise that."

"But I want to do right by Her," Aziraphale said, tears welling up in his eyes. "I just… I want Her to forgive me. If I knew what exactly I did wrong, maybe…" His breath hitched, words stuck upon his throat.

Crowley knelt down and held his angel's face. He was trembling so hard Crowley feared that if he let go, he'd simply shatter and crumble apart.

"I just want to do the right thing," Aziraphale said. "It used to be so straightforward. If it was as God intended, what I was doing couldn’t possibly be wrong. But now…" He looked up at the ceiling, as though willing the wetness of his eyes to disappear, but a tear had already spilled out and rolled down his cheek, damping Crowley's fingers. Then, a couple more followed, like beads of a snapped bracelet. He relented and sagged in his seat. “I don’t know.”

Crowley used his thumb to wipe the tears away but they continued to fall uncontrollably and he couldn't catch them all.

Aziraphale's voice was thick with tears when he spoke and his bottom lip wobbled with grief. "I don't know what's the right thing anymore. I don't know if I've ever done anything right," he said, placing his hands over Crowley’s and pulling them away from his face. “I feel like I've done everything wrong but I don't know who to seek forgiveness from.”

Crowley turned his hands slowly to grasp Aziraphale’s. “You haven’t done everything wrong, I promise. Maybe some things. But we all mess up sometimes. We don't have it all figured out most of the time and that's okay," he said. "We're trying our best to correct what we can, and that's enough."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, clinging to his words like a lifeline. Gently, Crowley squeezed his hands.

"Forgive yourself, angel. You don’t need to carry this six-thousand-year weight. And I can't bear to see you hating and hurting yourself like this, please."

When Aziraphale leaned forward, Crowley let go and allowed him to fall slowly into his arms. Aziraphale pressed his face to Crowley's shoulder, just as silent sobs began to shake his being. He pulled their hands close to his chest and squeezed. Crowley squeezed back.

Pressing closer still, Aziraphale muttered into Crowley's shirt, "I’m never going to get anything else from upstairs anymore, am I? We only have what we give ourselves now. We’ll have to figure things out by ourselves."

Crowley hummed.

“We really are on our own, aren't we? Just the two of us.”

"Yeah. Us two, on the same side. Grey wings on both our backs. Could be fun.”

That got a short laugh from Aziraphale, and tension trickled out of him. "If you say so, my dear."

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable partners #good omens fic #fanfic #aziracrow #my writing

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ladyfawkes · 3 years

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[I know what you're thinking -- and the answer is NOPE. THIS IS NOT A REPOST. THIS IS THE ACTUAL THIRD UPDATE (count 'em, THREE!!) in less than a month!! WOOPAH!!!] Tangled Just Before Ever After Chapter 4: Down the Hatch Current word count: 10103 Chapter 4 Summary: How in the world does Eugene answer Rapunzel's question??? Can the author manage to eek out yet another chapter from within the Tower??? WILL OUR COUPLE EVER GET BACK TO CORONA?!? S0ooOoo MANY qUeStiONs!!11!!

Eugene gulped hard several times; the silence stretched a bit too thin between his forthcoming answer and Rapunzel’s question. Eugene could feel that old standby instinct of wanting to lie through his teeth threatening to take over. But this was Rapunzel before him…. And this much he’d learned by now; if an honest woman confronts you about your past hookups, you should level with her. Though Eugene would've told Rapunzel whatever she wished to know, no matter when she chose to ask. After he’d been exploited for so many years by the likes of Stalyan and the Baron, Eugene had reached a breaking point fairly early on where he couldn’t bring himself to seduce the innocent anymore. He’d never liked doing that in the first place since it made him feel cheap, sleazy, and just all-out gross. Even grifters had to draw the line somewhere. It was yet another reason why he’d left Stalyan.

Eugene also knew that if he had to start running interference regarding his past during his first day as Eugene Fitzherbert the gentleman ….then he’d have to keep lying forever afterward….just like Flynn had. And Eugene was simply tired -- no, exhausted -- from all of the running, running, running. Flynn Rider had been on the move ever since he ditched the orphanage before his 10th year all those years ago. No more running, Eugene resolved. Even if leveling with the princess means she wants me out of the picture, so be it. She deserves to hear the truth from the source.

“Rapunzel….” Eugene began delicately, “the short answer to your question -- I’m sorry to say -- is far too many. But I’m requesting that we put a bookmark in that answer; we’ll circle back around to finish it.” Eugene nearly lost his nerve to continue after seeing the crestfallen look in Rapunzel’s eyes. He instead busied himself by locating the ring-shaped pull embedded in the trapdoor of the floor. After tugging on it, he noticed it wouldn’t budge. Without prompting, Rapunzel volunteered further information, explaining how when the princess was still little, Gothel always made her go up to the loft before she opened the trapdoor for her trips away. The crone never wanted the girl to figure out how to operate it. Thus Rapunzel said, “But you’re good at finding your way out of places. I figured you could make the mechanism work -- even without having seen Gothel’s trick to unlatching it.”

No sooner had Rapunzel said the word “unlatching” when a sharp click-THUNK issued from the floor. “Found it,” announced a smirking Eugene, as he moved the toe of his boot off of the otherwise camouflaged mechanism. He couldn’t help feeling a little smug after having effectively outthought that diabolical dead woman….again. The young man repositioned himself to again tug the metal ring and sure enough, the trapdoor swung open this time.

“After you,” said Eugene, gallantly gesturing Rapunzel down the next set of stairs.

“If only I had met you sooner,” Rapunzel said wistfully, as she shook her head. She’d tried to find that hidden mechanism in the floor for years. Eugene had discovered and figured out how to disarm it in mere seconds.

Eugene could not help his contrite chuckle. “Rapunzel, if we had met sooner -- even one year earlier, I doubt I ever could’ve left this place the first time. But it would’ve been for an entirely different reason.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rapunzel challenged, an unexpected edge to her voice. She folded her arms and demanded, “And what’s that?”

“Well, for starters,” said Eugene, his voice becoming far more subdued, “you never would’ve reached the fateful decision to enter a trust agreement with the kingdom’s most disreputable scoundrel. I mean….how could you?” Eugene pondered softly. “Especially based on the faulty info you’d been given about the world in general, you wouldn’t have had a reason yet to take the chance on our deal. Gothel’s control freakishness….hadn’t yet pushed you to the brink. Instead, she would’ve come home, you would’ve had no choice but to tell her that you’d caught me breaking in, and….well….”

“Don’t say that,” Rapunzel abruptly cut him off, abandoning her walk down the stairs, instead rushing over to grab Eugene’s free hand. “Don’t you ever say that,” she admonished, eyes wide. “Even if you had remained a perfect rogue stranger to me, Eugene Fitzherbert, I never would’ve wanted that old crone to hurt you on purpose. And especially not like... this,” finished Rapunzel, once more stretching her palm and pressing it against the jagged bloody tear in his doublet. A renewed ember of hope sparked inside him. And before he knew it, Rapunzel was apologizing, of all things!

“I….I’m sorry I put you on the spot that way regarding, ah, any prior relationships. It wasn’t fair of me to throw something like that on you so suddenly.” Meekness overtook Rapunzel and she looked at the floor, absently tracing out an invisible half-circle with her big toe. “Besides,” she confessed, “I only did it to distract you from my own awkwardness. But….but you kept…..insisting I should tell you what was bothering me since you are trustworthy.” Eugene was swift and carefully set the trapdoor down with the hinge open outward. He also briefly removed and set down his satchel.

The anxious young man went directly to Rapunzel with open arms but halfway through the motion thought that perhaps he shouldn’t, because Eugene didn’t want her to feel obligated to reciprocate. So the keyed-up man kept his fingers curled into his palms rather than reach out, and he kept his arms from raising above waist height. He was half-frozen, trying earnestly not to telegraph what he truly wished to do.

Eugene’s own thumbs must’ve betrayed him, though, as they involuntarily flexed, splaying outward from his balled fists. Rapunzel approached him and briefly gazed into his eyes with a hint of smile behind her own. She proceeded to lean over and take each of his hands, in turn, and tenderly kiss each errant thumb, in turn. Yet any embarrassment Eugene felt over her keen perception would soon melt away. For the princess took his left wrist and placed his arm over her right shoulder, took his right wrist and guided his arm around her waist, and then she mirrored the gesture with her own arms around him. The pair had briefly stopped their world to oh-so-carefully melt deeply into each other. After some time, they briefly broke their embrace. Rapunzel drew her arms in and criss-crossed her upper body with them, tucking in right up against Eugene’s chest. This allowed the sweet young man to attentively draw the princess into himself so tightly, nearly tight enough for him to wrap his arms around her twice as he buried his entire face into her silken hair. Each time they embraced….Eugene was simply floored with just how perfectly they “fit” one another; she could nestle comfortably and flush against his own shape, creating a head-to-toe highway of warmth and love.

Eventually, contented humming issued from Rapunzel’s throat. “I’ve never felt this safe before,” she murmured in awe, her face still pillowed against Eugene’s chest. “Nobody’s ever held me like this before either.” This realization had moved the princess to tears. Eugene leisurely placed a ring of popcorn kisses around the crown of her head in effort to soothe. “Dearest Sunshine of mine,’ he whispered into her hair, “I can promise you there’s so much more where that came from…..” and he was able to draw her imperceptibly closer into himself.

Soon moisture pricked the corners of his own eyes, for Eugene had a similar epiphany to Rapunzel’s. In all his years of relative isolation on the run, Rider never once allowed himself to partake in anything on this type of intimacy level. He’d always been keen to its existence, though. And he knew it was so much deeper and more meaningful than sex. And being the secretly sensitive person Eugene was, it was something he furtively craved but couldn’t bring himself to put that type of expectation upon another human being, knowing the unfavorable lifestyle he led.

And here this fractured thief managed to get caught up within a perfect healing ray of sunlight….and she was willing to take him on along with all his demons, even without knowing the full story in advance. And boy, did he ever have more than his fair share of demons. In spite of himself, Eugene had to say it again. “Sunshine…..I don’t deserve you.”

He immediately heard a tiny huff of impatience from her. “Eugeeeeeene,” Rapunzel overemphasized with mild vexation, “deserving or not, I’ve chosen you. You are forever my new dream. So….so start acting like it….please?” she implored, gazing at him with wide-open concerned eyes. Even her pep talk to him had proven about as rough and tumble as dandelion fluff.

“For you, Sunshine.” Eugene caressed her cheek. “It’ll be a struggle for awhile….but I will no longer speak of ‘deserving to have you.’ I shall instead focus on ‘building new dreams with you’.”

“Thank you,” Rapunzel said gratefully. “It….just….hurts me to see you thinking so much less of yourself due to circumstances now beyond your control.” She slipped her hand into Eugene’s own. And it was that moment he finally found an opening to finish what he started.

“Circling back to the bookmark in our conversation…. Rapunzel…. Ever since the first time you chose to address me as Eugene, everything...the past few days...has been unlike anything I’ve ever felt or experienced with any woman before. It’s all new….all of it. So many firsts already. Nonetheless, you still have every right to ask me about whomever I’ve been with prior to when we met. And while I do intend to eventually tell you about those encounters -- if that’s what you want -- you should also be aware that for me, Eugene Fitzherbert, it’s still a little too soon to openly discuss much of anything just yet. But I will try for your sake, if that’s what you need.” He briefly bowed his head, his eyelids automatically sliding shut.

Rapunzel was so fleet-footed that Eugene had not heard her change positions to where she grabbed his satchel, immediately encouraged Eugene to open his eyes and to help a struggling Pascal who was now lugging a forgotten cast-iron frying pan, and she started down the steps at long last. That was….abrupt, Eugene thought to himself. If Rapunzel was perpetually so talented at keeping him on his toes, then he’d best get himself some better boots -- and soon!

“You okay?” asked Eugene, just to make sure. He grabbed the brass ring of the trapdoor and just before he closed it…..he looked around the Tower one last time. He knew that he should feel the most ominous and terrified that he’d ever felt, especially upon glimpsing his own bloodstain on the floor. But something…..someone was protecting him. And even though he was neither superstitious nor believed in ghosts, once in awhile he would privately allow himself the indulgence of conjuring up invented people and imagery from his past. Fleetingly an image of who could only be his mother comes to mind; it was her spirit that must’ve been shielding him from the worst of today’s trauma, he decided. Thank you, he mouths the words to a seemingly empty Tower, pulling the trapdoor tight shut forever.....

“I’m more than okay,” Rapunzel replied enthusiastically, as she made her way down the dingy spiral staircase. “Who cares about past relationships when you can tell me about all of those firsts you just mentioned instead?”

Eugene almost -- almost -- laughed aloud with relief. Here he had been so worried about past relationship questions when Rapunzel instead wanted to be told all about the present. Three days, and this was the only thing he’d come across so far in which Rapunzel was anything like any other woman he’d met. And Eugene was more than happy to indulge her need to know just how special she had become to him and why.

A/N: I hate to do this (haven't done it here before) but I'm getting next to NO feedback and the same goes for reblogs. If you enjoy my writing, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE -- even if you write no review--reblog this?? It's the only way this story goes out anywhere. It's an author's life blood. You all know how isolating and ridiculous tumblr's stupid search algorithm is.....

#tangled fanfiction #my fanfiction #Rapunzel + Eugene #TJBEA #RTA #rapunzel's tangled adventure #pascal the chameleon #Frog #Tangled the Series #TTS #OTP #fanfiction romance

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drazzilder · 3 years

Text

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder

Chapter 24: Sacrifice

“Rei?” Enji says like he is looking at a ghost.

R: “Don’t cry, Enji.” She says as she enters the room.”

N: “MOM? YOUR ALIVE?”

F: “Mom, is that really you?” She starts crying. Shoto is in too much shock to say anything.

R: “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry I waited till now to come in. I was listening but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

E: “But…. But you took your own life! I saw you with my own eyes, I saw your body! I saw the bottle of pills!”

R: “With the help of a friend, I used my ice quirk to fake my own death. I lowered my body temperature and heart rate to level that can’t be detected. Those pills were sugar pills.”

E: “Why?”

R: “Everything got to much for me. You think you are the only one who felt guilt about Touya and Shoto? That guilt ate me alive everyday. You were getting angrier by the day and when I was put into the hospital, being away from you was the first time I felt normal. I knew a divorce was out of the question for you, so I did the next best thing I could think of. I didn’t want to do it but I felt I had no other option. But I didn’t take one thing into account, how my actions would affect all of you.”

F: “Wait, how do you know how it affected us?”

R: “Hina. I paid her to become your nanny. She was relaying all of the information about everyone to me. I know that things got worse without me. I regret leaving you but I don’t know if I would have made it.”

Enji gets up and stands next to Rei. As she looks up at him, she sees tears in his eyes. She takes off his glasses and wipes them away only to be replaced by more. He then hugs her gently while apologizing profusely. All of the kids join in the hug and everyone starts to cry.

R: “I would have been here sooner. When I got word the kids left, I was about to rush over there but Hina said it was already getting taken care of.”

E: “What do you mean?”

R: “It’s because of (Y/N). You have changed because of him. I have never seen you anything but angry or disappointed but he brings out he best in you. Even the children are happier now.”

E: “I’m assuming Hina told you about our relationship.”

R: “That, and you proclaimed your love for him on national television. Reporters are lining the block to interview you.”

All the color disappears from Enji’s face. He forgot the news media was there. They even interviewed him that day. He totally forgot about them when you went unconscious in his arms.

E: “I…I…I’m sorry…”

F: “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m happy it’s finally out. That way you can be together without hiding it.”

E: “It’s not going to matter anyway….” He says turning to you in the bed.

R: “I see. And you love him more than anything in the world?”

E: “He was going to ask me to marry him after adopting the children. I would have said yes but it’s too late!” He starts sobbing again.

R: “That’s all I wanted to hear. Zaheer, I think know how to fix this.”

E: “What, how?”

R: “Hina wasn’t just watching you, once (Y/N) came in to your life, she started research into demons.”

Z: “That would explain all the questions from her.”

R: “She also found this book, it’s a book of demonic curses and spells. I was worried about (Y/N)’s well being so I looked up one spell in particular. This one should look familiar, Zaheer.”

Zaheer takes the book at opens it to the bookmarked page. “It’s…It’s the spell they used to put me in him. Do you think it will work?”

R: “We don’t know if we don’t try. I brought everything we need here, 4 people to chant, candles, salt and…”

Z: “A human sacrifice…” he says as he clenches the book.

N: “Wait, a human sacrifice? Who is going to volunteer for that.”

Enji looks at Rei who is looking at her feet. “Rei, you can’t be serious?”

F: “Mom? Don’t tell me you are going to…”

R: “I plan on sacrificing myself.”

S: “Mom! You can’t! You just came back only to tell us your leaving again!”

R: “Let me explain my reasoning. When I left, things were bad and everything only got worse. I can’t even imagine what you all went through mentally without me but I don’t think me being there would have helped any. I felt so guilty about leaving, it was selfish. I heard that everything was spiraling out of control and it made me question what I was doing. Then I heard what (Y/N) was doing for all of you, it made me feel like what I did was right. Enji, you love (Y/N) more than you loved me, I know it. Please, let me make this right. Let me bring all of you happiness.”

N: “Mom, you can’t!”

F: “Please.”

S: “No!”

E: “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Z: “Are you sure? You really want to help him?”

R: “Nothing would make me happier to help my family be happy. In my heart, I know it’s the right thing to do.”

E: “I can’t stop you, can I?”

R: Putting a hand to Enji’s face. “Please let me do one last thing for my family.”

Enji hugs Rei again, this time with a faint smile and a few tears, only whispering “Thank you” to her.

Z: “We need to hurry, he doesn’t have much time left.”

Everyone starts to read the evil text to learn their part. Zaheer begins making symbols on the floor while the children and Enji learn the chant. Rei readies herself mentally.

R: “Is it going to be painful?”

Z: “For you, I hope it’s not.”

R: “Well, is everyone ready?” She says as a few tears roll down her cheek.

Everyone: “Ready.”

They turn off the lights as light the candles on the floor. Zaheer and Rei are inside of the demonic symbol on the floor as the family begins to chant. The flames grow brighter from the candles and they begin to swirl around the two. They keep chanting louder and louder, the flames growing until they engulf the two. It feels like the room might catch ablaze but it holds. As the chanting stops, the flames die and the spot is empty. Enji turns on the lights and rushes to you.

“(Y/N), can you hear me? (Y/N)!”

Next Chapter

#A Hellish Encounter #endeavor x male reader #endeavor #enji todoroki #enji x y/n #enji x reader #endeavor fluff #endeavor stan #endeavor mha

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stetervault · 5 years

Note

Hello! Do you do rec lists? Would you be willing rec some Steter fics that aren't the most common/popular ones? If not, no worries!

Technically this isn’t a rec-finding blog lol but I do make rec lists sometimes if someone asks and I have the time and I feel like it. Here are some (I think?) less known Steter fics, oldies that people may have missed or forgotten (Idk how well I succeeded, I just picked a bunch that have significantly less reads/bookmarks than the really big fics):

Fear (Doesn't Mean I Can't Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he's loyal to.

Bring it on.

A Lean and Hungry Look by kototyph

The woods aren't the only place you find wolves.

You're Mine, Valentine by orphan_account

In which Peter decides to court Stiles, and does so by leaving him hearts.

Bloody ones.

Zodiac by Green

"You know, Taurus and Libra make a good match," Peter says with a sly smile.

Stiles looks away. "Yeah. I looked that up, too."

Surviving Peter and the Zombie Apocalypse by Nopennamesleft

Its the end of the world and Stiles has run out of luck. He saves a werewolf from certain death. Will they begin to rely on each other to survive or will the wolf just eat Stiles for a midnight snack?

He Is A Villain By The Devil's Law by neglectedtuesday

Stiles’ lungs are burning, blood is pumping through his veins and he’s pretty sure that if he stops running then he’ll just keel over into the gutter. But God does he feel alive. The sirens are wailing, loud and clear. Just one more block. One more block. Stiles ducks down an alleyway, the bag full of bank notes swinging behind him. It hits his side with a dull thud. The alley smells like cat pee and yesterdays trash so Stiles breathes shallowly through his mouth. He continues walking down it until he reaches the end. It opens out onto the street. He stops just shy of the exit, waiting. He waits a bit more. Then he kicks a can lying idle on the ground. He whips out his burner phone, punching in a number.

“Where the fuck are you?” Stiles growls, “Where’s my goddamn getaway car?”

“Change of plans Stilinski, you’re gonna have to get away on your own. Also ditch the phone.”

Fascinated by lemonstiles, migratoryslashfan

Stiles pontificates over Peter's naked body.

Night-blooming Flowers by imriebelow

Peter always gets what he wants. Stiles learns to live with it.

None of These Things (Are Happening) by Horribibble

After years away, Stiles returns to Beacon Hills just in time to put Isaac's insides back where they belong.

It's cute how people think he's trustworthy.

Peter can smell the violence inside him, the urge to do something grand and possibly cataclysmic. It’s there—mixed with a balance and natural calm, but in the undercurrent, it’s there. He has seen things beyond the scope of Beacon Hills’ petty horror show. He has learned things.

The Terrible Things We Do (For Love) by rospeaks

Being a demon, he’s seen some of the pretty nasty things that humans are willing to do for love. Things that, were he still alive (and human), would make him hesitate to be in a relationship with anyone lest his partner start getting some funny ideas. That said—

"This seems a little desperate for a kid your age," he says to Stiles.

Spin, Sweet Clotho by ChuckleVoodoos

Oh, it’s a beautiful thing to watch, the way they dance around each other, spun in sugar and glittering glass. Like a fragile little fairytale, a tender rosebud just waiting to unfurl. It makes Peter sick.

Because love is a fairytale, and his dear darling nephew does not deserve a happy ending.

whisper by tricksterity

Stiles was tired.

He was done of people pushing him and his pack around. They’d already lost so much and he was damned if he’d let them lose anyone else, especially to this psychopath who had no reasons for what he did other than he liked it.

And that’s when the whispers in his mind grew louder.

Remember Darling, All the While by Sang_argente

It was fire, ice, electricity. It was the first kiss, the last kiss, and every kiss inbetween. It was lips parting, tongues sliding, hearts beating.

Impress Me by ToAStranger

Their new English teacher has gone missing.

Falling Upward by moonstalker24

There is nothing quite like flying. There is a calm and a peace found in the sky that cannot be found on earth. All the chaos of the world is below you and there is no sound save that which the propeller makes as the engine turns it. You are free and unfettered and the clouds are close enough to touch; all you need do is stretch out your hand to grasp them.

Stiles takes Peter flying after he gets out of Eichen House.

Sweeter Than Gingerbread by taylorpotato (Stetallison)

The saying goes that lovers who commit suicide together start their next life as twins. Perhaps that's why Stiles and Ally feel the way they do about each other.

The Shadow Effect by Mysenia

What was the fun in being a twin if you couldn't trick a person or two?

Deep under by Sashaya

There's a reason Stiles knows so much about drowning. He'd rather not remember why...

All the World's a Stage (but the light design is subpar) by BonesOfBirdWings

Peter Hale is a successful Off-Broadway actor, and Stiles is a stage lighter who literally falls into his life.

Peter smiled at him. "Thank you, Stiles. But should I take this to mean that you don't want a meatball sandwich from Banh Mi Saigon?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You - I - Yes, I want! Oh my god, you do the best apologies! Can you piss me off more, please? I accept all future apologies enthusiastically!"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure that won't be a problem, dear boy. I've been informed that I'm an asshole by a very reliable source."

Stiles beamed. "But you have good taste in food, so things balance out?" he ventured.

Peter threw back his head and laughed. Stiles' grin brightened in answer.

The D.C. Backroom Deal by septima_sum

Stiles is a regular prostitute with moderate life goals – until his current client makes him an offer he can’t refuse.

Strange Duet by BelleAmante, thiliart (thilia)

The past three years have been a series of shocking, or not so shocking, successes for 2018 Tony award winner and two time Grammy nominee, Stiles Stilinski. You don’t typically find classically trained opera singers singing alternative folk rock to crowds at Coachella. Nor do you find indie singer/songwriters winning best actor awards at the Tony’s for their Broadway debuts. Stilinski has made it his lifetime habit to defy and exceed all expectations.

-or-

A Steter fic loosely based on Phantom of the Opera

Hold Me Down by sneksonaplane

Waking up in Peter Hale’s bed was weird. Waking up in Peter Hale’s body was even weirder. Stiles had been disoriented and confused when he’d found himself in a plush, king sized bed in an unfamiliar bedroom instead of in his own room (and seriously, why did Peter even need a king sized bed? Why would anyone need a bed that big?) It had all come back to him when he’d glimpsed the body he was inhabiting, one that was shorter but more defined than his own, and older, and kind of hot.

The one where Stiles and Peter swap bodies, Peter relives his adolescence, Stiles suffers, and then suffers a little less when he discovers Peter's fetlife profile where he's listed as a submissive seeking a daddy.

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night by Guede

This is a ghost story. It’s not straightforward.

Put My Faith in Something Unknown by Twisted_Mind

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, suspended between thought and action, unable to feel. At some point, he becomes aware that there’s a hand on his face. A warm palm cradles his jaw, and a thumb brushes across his cheekbone tenderly.

The Rest of Our Lives by mia6363

“I don’t know, as a kid I watched a lot of movies, you know? And at first I figured like… I’d be on some great adventure that would take me away from it all, you know? Like Indiana Jones comes around and is all, ‘Hey Stiles, buddy, come with me we’ve got to go save the world.’ Then… you and… everything happened… then I just… I figured I’d die before I was eighteen.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Buy Me a New Pair by Julibean19

"I don't practice law much these days."

"And why is that?" Stiles asked, wondering why a handsome and presumably successful lawyer wouldn't want to continue working.

"I've been drawn away by more pleasurable pursuits," Peter said, lips quirked upward as he spoke.

Tale as Old as Time by wynnebat

The one in which Lydia's got better things to do than be Belle, Stiles is a much more likeable Gaston, and Peter is a beast but not quite beastly.

The clothes make the man by FeelingsDusk

The trick to sneaking into a building where you shouldn’t be is to make it seem to all eyes like you should. Stiles has been doing this since he was a little older than toddler and he wanted to get back his Batman action figure from the evidence room in his dad’s Police Station.

(Spolier alert: just like back then, Stiles gets caught.)

Smile Like You Mean It by NinaRooxx

After sulking about the changing weather over the autumn, Stiles notices that despite the weather getting colder, Peter’s wardrobe isn’t changing at all.

Swing by ShippersList

Stiles wants to fly.

Angels, Devils, and Peter by Triangulum

Everyone has an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. They give advice, help guide their human through life. They tempt, they listen, they offer help. Everyone has one of each. Everyone except for Stiles.

Stiles and Peter are murder husbands.

love and madness by sinequanon

Peter and Stiles haven’t seen each other in months when the alphas ask them to meet up to look over an abandoned house. Now, they’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for quite a while to come.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There's a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

A Light at the (Near) End of the World by ladyoneill

The world he grew up in has ended in a supernatural war that devastated the human population. A survivor, Stiles lives a solitary, quiet life in Wales until there's a knock on his door.

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn't expect him to be alive. He also doesn't realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

His Color by SushiOwl

“Darling, have you been carrying a throw-away comment I made in your mind for almost four months?”

Stiles’s face felt like it was one with fire now.

After You by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)

It’s true that sometimes what you want the most, you can’t have and that you’ll miss what you once had all along when it’s finally gone.

After breaking his engagement to Chris, Peter heads to New York to start over. He meets Stiles, a young author at his publishing house who helps him piece his confidence back together. When tragedy strikes, he discovers how to finally let go of his past and have the family and future he's always wanted with the pieces already in his life.

Looking After You by Slayer_of_Destiny

Can Peter be a chance for Stiles, can Stiles be a second chance for Peter? When Peter offers Stiles a relationship will the younger man take the chance with the werewolf?

Maybe We Both Are by lavenderlotion

The first time Stiles lets his fingers brush against Peter he wasn’t expecting the response he got. They were sitting on Stiles bed researching something. Or, they were researching. Now they were just talking. They did that a lot these days, just talked. They also ate together a lot. Or got coffee.

these words bear my scars (paint your love on my skin) by WindyRein

One day butterflies and childish codes change to I'm sorry you're meant for a murderer and he won't realize for years how much that changed his life.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

The Lady of Lightning by kiranightshade

"Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside"

Can You Use Lube For That? by AlreadyBoss

“You think your what is haunted now?” Surely he'd misheard. There was no way-

“My vibrator,” Stiles answered with alarming sincerity.

Well. He hadn't misheard after all.

Pianist Envy by Bunnywest

Stiles is the piano player.Peter can think of other things he'd like to see those hands do.Shame the guy's straight.

Everything You Deserve by Areiton

You think about it. More than you should, you think about it. About what would have happened, if you had bitten Stiles instead of Scott.

Home by Ragga

Don't be like him, they would say, and then add, or else you get burned.

Unable to bear the whispers any longer, This One left. He forsook those who forsook him, left him bear his scars alone, the scars he bore for his herd. It was better to be alone, stay off the currents, than swim with those most undeserving of his loyalty. So mote it be.

That is, until he met That One.

Lord Peter by Therapeutic_Steter

Peter rung out the rag before gently placing it on his mother’s head, reaching over to feel his father’s equally flushed features.

“Such a good boy,” his mother said, patting his arm with what little strength she had remaining. His father smiled softly at him even as his fell unconscious. Peter pushed back the lump in his throat, smiling shakily for his mother before venturing out into the living space.

knit me together by nezstorm

Peter asks Stiles to stay the night after a really awful day.

Warriors by CinnamonLily

Peter is ten years old when humans discover Azure, a planet not unlike Earth. From there on, he wants to learn everything about their new neighbors and the planet itself. It takes him over twenty years to get to Azure, but when he does, it's so worth it. His anthropologist heart is happy, and a new acquaintance in the form of an Azurian called Stiles might just make the rest of him happy, too.

#teen wolf #steter #rec list #fanfic rec #ask #anonymous

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 5 years

Text

to be selfish

(in which plans are ruined, sparks fly, and selfish, selfish choices are made)

based on this prompt by @alltheprettygirlsintheworld!

id also like to thank @alltheprettygirlsintheworld for always reblogging my writing and leaving kind comments!! your support means the world to me 💕 i hope this fic is at least somewhat like what you were looking for!

~*~

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong.

Luck of the devil, Crowley supposed, though by that he meant he had the worst luck in history.

The picnic had been rained out, the Bentley had broken down, and even after miracling the poor car back into shape, Crowley and Aziraphale had gotten stuck in a line of traffic that hadn't moved whatsoever in the past fifteen minutes.

Worst of all, Crowley's plan had also been completely and utterly ruined. 6000 years of waiting washed down the drain. Quite literally, too.

Damn thunderstorm.

Needless to say, the demon was not in a cheerful mood.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale murmured. An open book was resting on his lap, though even out of the corner of his eye Crowley could tell the angel wasn't reading it.

He sighed. "Not your fault. Last I checked, angel, you can't control the weather."

"I'm not talking about that. I mean, I am sorry it rained." Aziraphale closed his book after tucking a bookmark between the pages. "I'm sorry you're so disappointed, my dear. I know how much effort you put into planning this. Finding the right spot, and preparing the food yourself and all." His chewed on his lip. "Is there anything I can do, or say to - to cheer you up?"

Crowley chuckled, leaning back into his seat and turning to offer the angel a soft smile. Traffic wouldn't be moving anytime soon. He could afford to take his eyes off the road for a few seconds. "You can agree to come on a picnic with me whenever it's not raining."

Aziraphale beamed at him, and Crowley's heart jumped into his throat, as it so often did when his angel smiled. "That sounds lovely, my dear. I'd be delighted to join you again."

Crowley absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as the conversation passed. He frowned. "You do know, angel, that you don't have to apologize for anything. I should be the one saying sorry for not checking the weather report before we left."

A tiny smile crept onto Aziraphale's lips. "I suppose we're both apologizing for things we don't need to, then."

"I guess we are."

Silence fell between them. The Bentley inched forward as rain pattered softly on the roof. Lightning flashed a brilliant purple in the sky, followed by a deep echo of thunder.

Aziraphale finally said with a huff, "Oh, just spill it, Crowley. It is not like you to be so - so mute when it comes to a few cancelled plans. Especially something like this. What are on Earth are you not telling me?"

Crowley's grip tightened on the steering wheel. This was not a topic he wanted to discuss. Not now, at least. Not without preparation. He didn't dare turn to look at Aziraphale. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My dear, you are radiating dejection. It's almost smothering! Why can't you just be honest with -" Aziraphale cut himself off with a shuddering sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was even. Gentle. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

Crowley's gaze remained steadfast on the road in front of him. "Nothing's wrong. I would tell you if there was a problem."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't. You never talk about your feelings. Not with me."

Crowley stiffened so sharply at the angel's words that he nearly snapped off part of the steering wheel.

"Good Lord!" Aziraphale exclaimed, startled by his abrupt reaction. "What was that all about?"

Crowley didn't respond, praying the angel wouldn't connect the dots.

(Then again, since when had God ever listened to his prayers?)

"Feelings," Aziraphale murmured. He blushed. "I'm going to make an educated guess, my dear, that you were planning to talk about... Our relationship."

Crowley bit back a sigh. Now it wasn't even worth trying to change the subject. "Maybe." He shrugged. "Not like it matters anymore." A lie. "Don't know if you noticed, angel, but whatever I might or might not have planned has gone to shit now."

Aziraphale chuckled. "It's not that bad." He reached over, gently cupping Crowley's cheek before slowly turning the demon's head to face him. "Look at me, my dear."

Crowley was distinctly aware of how red his face had to be. Extremely embarrassing. "But traffic -"

"- won't be moving for another hour. We both know that."

He hated it when the angel had a point. He sighed, reluctantly taking his hands off the steering wheel and turning so his body also faced Aziraphale. "Okay. I'm looking at you."

"Now tell me what you planned to say at the picnic."

Crowley exhaled, though it sounded more like a hiss. "I can't."

Aziraphale frowned. "Why not?"

"I just can't, angel!" he snapped. "I don't know what the hell I was going to say." Not entirely a lie. He didn't have a speech prepared or anything. All he'd wanted to do was hold the angel's hand and - and see what happened after that.

He couldn't risk going too fast.

Aziraphale softened. He had an uncanny way of knowing when the demon was being honest. "Alright. Then I'll tell you what I planned to say."

Calling that an unexpected reply would have been an understatement. Crowley somehow managed to nod in response.

Aziraphale fiddled with his pinky ring, taking a deep breath before he began. "I know that you love me, my dear, though I also know you would never allow yourself to admit that out loud. I can feel your love. I've felt it since - well, since the beginning, I suppose. But I have never said that I love you, dear boy. And since there's no time like the present..." He bit his lip. "I love you, too, Crowley. So very, very much. And I have for far longer than I dare to admit."

Inside, Crowley was already aware of this. He couldn't detect love like angels could, but he was no idiot. And Aziraphale had never been good at hiding his feelings. Eyes were windows to the soul, after all.

"And - And I'm sure you're wondering why I waited so long to say anything," Aziraphale continued. "But I was afraid, Crowley! Afraid of what Hell would do to you if they ever found out about - about us." He stared at the demon, and Crowley's heart clenched as he saw tears glistening in the angel's eyes. "For me... I knew that if I Fell, I Fell. So be it. But for you the only consequence would have been complete destruction! I couldn't risk that something horrible happened to you because of my - because of my selfishness."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Your selfishness?"

Aziraphale managed a weak laugh. "Yes. Me, selfishly wanting to be with you. To be able to love you without worrying about any of the consequences. Just... Us."

Crowley didn't know how to respond. Or maybe it was the lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. Either way, he was silent.

"But I've had enough of the - the bullshit from our head offices. I'm allowed to be selfish every once in a while! And I don't care if that makes me unangelic!" Aziraphale reached out to take Crowley's hands in his. "I'm ready to go as fast as you want, Crowley. Anywhere you go, from Earth to Alpha Centauri, I will be there. With you. Even if that means you end up driving this blasted car a hundred miles over the speed limit."

Crowley chuckled, squeezing the angel's hands. Everything he'd ever wanted to hear was finally being said, but now that the moment had come, he could hardly process it. "Angel," he finally whispered, "I think... I think I might be in love with you."

Aziraphale laughed, freeing one of his hands to reach up and wipe away tears trickling down his face. "Think? My dear, I know you are."

Time stood still as Crowley took off his sunglasses and tossed them into an empty cupholder before slowly leaning towards Aziraphale, his head tilted, eyes shut, and his lips parted ever so slightly -

Then he hesitated.

There is no "our side"!

I don't even like you!

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

He couldn't do it.

"Dammit," he muttered, letting his head fall and come to rest on the angel's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," was Aziraphale's reply before he lifted Crowley's chin and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was gentle. Tender. And hesitant, neither wanting to rush the other. It was a kiss filled with patience and 6000 years of waiting, a kiss burning with passion and 6000 years of longing. Perhaps there was even a bit of temptation.

(Who was doing the tempting, well, neither could say.)

The kiss was broken when the car behind them blared its horn, startling the both of them.

"Bastard," Crowley muttered as he drove the Bentley less than a car-length forward. "As if moving up five feet really makes a difference."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Humans always have places to be and things to do."

"Yeah, well, if he really needs to be somewhere, he might as well get out of his car and start walking."

"I suppose we're lucky we don't have plans."

Crowley snorted. "You may not have plans, angel, but I do."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Really? What plans do you have?"

Crowley smirked. "I was planning to convince you to be selfish and kiss me again. Preferably more than once."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though Crowley didn't miss the small smile dancing on his lips. "Oh, you're ridiculous."

"Mm. I know. And you love it."

"Well..." He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I do."

(Although, as it turned out, his angel didn't need much convincing. It was also no coincidence that the Bentley started to play "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" on repeat - and refused to stop. Some things, it seemed, were simply fated to be. A little selfishness never did harm anyone, after all.)

~*~

#me? inspired by fruits basket? it's more likely than you think #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #anthony crowley #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #amy writes #to be selfish #this was so soft™️ to write

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yoiprojects-n-events · 5 years

Note

Hi!! I don’t really understand how all these event thingies work? Bangs, reverse bangs, zines, challenges etc. Could you explain them for me, please? 😅 Thanks!!

Hey there nony! That is a really great question! I would be more than happy to explain all the different events for you! I will even provide some example blogs you can look at too for reference (please note, not all of the example blogs will be active or current events/challenges).

Hold onto your ice skates because this is gonna be a long one. As such, I will put the explanations below the cut 💕

So I will begin with Challenges as they seemed to be the easiest to explain:

Challenges 📝

Challenges are generally based on Writing or Art prompts. These events challenge participants to create something based on a series of prompts for a certain number of days/weeks/etc. These types of challenges will most often be art-based, but not always.

For example: The most well-known event that would fall into the ‘challenges’ category would be Inktober. Although this event isn’t specific to Yuri!!! on Ice, it’s a good example to use. Inktober provides participants with a list of 31 prompts that an artist can use to guide their drawing ideas. Artists are challenged to post one ink drawing a day for 31 days based on these ideas. Even some writers use inktober prompts to create spooky stories every day for 31 days.

Applications or sign-ups are not typically required for these types of events.

Here are a few posts to check out with different Yuri!!! on Ice challenges:

100 Days of Makka Challenge, Pochatober 2019

Event Weeks 🎉

In the Yuri!!! on Ice fandom, event weeks seem to be the most popular (and generally the easiest to run). Event weeks (sometimes called theme weeks) as the name suggests, are generally week-long events that are often based on a specific theme. These themes can range from week-long birthday celebrations for a specific character, to holiday themes, or even more unique topics like fantasy weeks and ship weeks. Honestly, the sky is the limit when it comes to choosing a specific theme. I’ve seen a whole collection of crazy and interesting theme weeks in this fandom!

Anyways, once the event theme has been decided blog moderators will also provide participants with prompts or suggestions that span across seven days to help guide the creative process.

For Example: In October I was a co-moderator for a Spooky Week Event (A Halloween themed event) that ran from October 25 - October 31. For each day we had two ‘prompt suggestions’ to help inspire people. On the first day of the event, our prompts were ‘Zombies and Monsters’ and ‘Haunted’. For day Two, our prompts were ‘Devil and Demons’ and “Autumn’. Then that pattern continued over seven days.

Once the prompts have been released, creators will have a certain about of time to create something based on the daily themes. Then, once the event week starts, participants can start posting and sharing their creations.

Sometimes, event weeks will have a day called a ‘free day’ which means participants can create something based on anything that falls within the scope of the theme set for the event.

Applications or sign-ups are not typically required for these types of events.

Here are a few event week blogs to check out:

@yoirarepairweek (Upcoming in January), @yoitrainingweek, @yuuriweek2019

Gift Exchange/Secret Gift Exchange 🎁

Gift Exchanges are when participants create artwork or written fanfiction based upon prompts or ideas suggested by another participant.

When signing up for this type of event, you are generally asked to submit one or more prompts or suggestions based on a theme or pairing you enjoy and would like to receive as a gift from another participant.

For example: Let’s say I am a big fan of Victor Nikiforov/Katsuki Yuuri Super Hero AU’s (One of my not so secret weaknesses). I could ask for my giftee to create something based on that idea (and you can certainly add more details than this). Then, whoever receives your prompts/ideas would then create something (typically art or written works) based on what you have suggested.

It’s also important to note that when participating in these events, you are also expected to create something for another person based on the prompts/ideas that you receive from them.

More often than not, these events are Secret Gift Exchanges, meaning that no one knows who their giftee is until the set day when everyone is allowed to reveal/post their gifts.

Here are a few gift exchange blogs for you to check out:

@victuurisummerloving, @yoisecretskater, @yurionice-secretsanta

Bangs 📝🎨

Bangs are traditionally challenges that require authors to write a story that is 50,000 words or more within a set amount of time. HOWEVER, most bangs these days, host much smaller challenges that generally only require around 10k or 15k words per author (and sometimes even less depending on the event)

Then, once these stories have been partly, or fully written, artists will have the opportunity to review the written stories or a summary of the story. They can then decide which one they would like to create artwork for (this is often called the claims or claiming period).

Once the claims have been completed, authors and artists can converse (if desired) about the artwork that will be created for the story. Writers can often suggest to the artists which scenes they would like to see drawn, but it is up to the artist to make the final decision on what scenes actually are created.

Then, on a specific day, artists and writers will be able to post and reveal their works online.

These events can also be called Big Bangs or Mini Bangs at the discretion of the event moderators

Here are a few bangs blogs to check out:

@bigbangonice, @otayuribigbang, @viktuuriangstbang

Reverse Bangs 🔁🎨📝

Reverse Bangs, as the name would suggest, are the opposite of Bangs. For these events, artists create their work first instead of authors. Then, once their artwork has been created, authors can view the artwork and decide which piece they would like to write a story for.

Once the art claiming period has ended, Artist and Writers can collaborate (if desired) regarding the creation of the written portion of the piece. Sometimes, (if desired) artists will even create additional pieces for a story based on what the author writes.

Then, on a specific day, artists and writers will be able to post and reveal their works online.

* Sadly, I don’t have any Yuri!!! on Ice blogs to recommend looking at regarding this particular category. The only Reverse Bang I found in this fandom seems to have occurred in 2017 and the main blog appears to no longer exist (I can provide example blogs from other fandoms though if desired, just send me a message and let me know).

Zines 📚

Now, while I don’t necessarily reblog Zine events on this page, I am more than happy to explain what they are and how they work!

The term Zine, which is apparently pronounced zeen -like magazine- comes from the term Fanzine (I’ve been pronouncing it wrong this whole time, whoops). Zines can be created by a single person or by a group of artists, writers (and sometimes cosplayers) who come together to create content for an independent or self-published booklet.

Zines are often theme-based (i.e. Fairytale themed or centered on a specific ship) and all the content created for the zine is based around said theme.

In order to participate in these events, interested parties will submit an application containing examples of their works. Once applications close, moderators will review the submissions and decide which applicants will be participating.***

Once Zines are completed, they are put online for fans to purchase. Some Zines are digital-only, meaning that only PDF versions are sold. Other Zines sell physical printed books and even merchandise items (such as pins, keychains, bookmarks, etc).

Depending on the moderators, some zines donate all the prophets made on sales to a preselected charity while other zines split any money made between all the creators. Most Zines, however, either do a combination of both (donate half the proceeds and split the remaining money between contributors if there is enough) or simply donate everything to a specific charity.

Zines are incredibly fun events, but I would definitely say that they are the most time-consuming.

*** Sometimes, when Zines are online-only (PDF versions), all applicants are accepted. If a Zine is going to be physically printed, moderators tend to limit the number of participants to keep both the production costs and the sale prices low.

Here are a few Zine blogs for you to check out:

@yoidreadfulzine (applications still open), @onceuponayoi, @phichimettizine

Again, I do apologize for the length of this post but I hope I was able to answer all of your questions nony!! I tried to include everything, even the ones not mentioned, but please let me know if I left anything out that you would like to know about! (If anyone sees anything that seems incorrect/inaccurate, please let me know)

I will also create a new page on my blog explaining all of the above again so it will be easy for everyone to find in the future!

- Mystic

#nony #answered asks #yuri on ice #yuri events #Big Bang #bang #mini bang #reverse bang #secret gift exchange #gift exchange #drawing challenge #writing challenge #event week #theme week #yoi

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goblinselfshippr · 2 years

Note

Here's a gush pass 🎫!!! If you'd like an f/o yo fixate on to gush, may I recommend Virgil? Please feel free to send this gush pass to three other self shippers if you've the energy (but no pressure to of course!)

I like the way you think anon, I’ve been kind of thinking of him recently too. Really quick before I get into this, the original dmc games are my oldest special interest since my dad brought it home when I was like 6. Vergil’s fic journals go back literal YEARS, the first fic journal I ever wrote for him was in one of those voice activated “My Password Journals” (yeah, remember those?) at age like 12. Honestly, he’s one of those blorbos that is so different from his original source now that he’s his own character lmao. It’s below the cut and gets kinda dark at times so read with caution. (Part 1/2 bc of length I’m so sorry anon)

So to understand how we sort of are now, you have to understand how it started.

Vergil craved power and rejected humanity, and as a siren going through a similar awakening, our meeting was inevitable. He was looking for a way to raise a demon tower and merge both human and demon worlds, and Samael had just the book he needed in his library. I was 15, he was 17. Neither of us had social skills, and both of us had plenty of time to wander endlessly through the modern library of Alexandria.

I knew he’d be there, admittedly. I’d known Dante longer, we’d met maybe five years earlier. Because our home worlds are parallel and the library is a shared doorway between the two, I’d already known who both of them were and that neither were aware of the other’s life. I didn’t know that I’d fall so fast for Vergil though. He was so stuffy at first, but when he opened up he was clever and funny and broken. He was still arrogant, just a little. He was also a bit like speaking to a mirror, he was the least loved, the one that needed to be responsible for everyone and everything, the one that knew better. He was the one isolated and shut out from the warmth, and I was the exact same. We raised the tower together, and were naïve to do so. Vergil changed when he was in that tower, and I saw it as my punishment. I could have kept the book from him and feigned ignorance, but I wanted his happiness so badly I’d gift wrapped the damn thing. Gone were the bookmarked poems and carefully copied sonnets, and in their wake was silence, cold nights, and an irritating competitor. Alice. She’d try hard for his attention and lose every time. I hated the frigid bed, but the defeated look in her face soothed my wounds just a little. I was glad when she disappeared to seek her own ambitions. I’d managed to make it to the top of the tower on my then barely used wings, but not before the portal closed. I wasn’t able to see him leave, or give him an earnest goodbye. I wanted to hate Dante when he returned with only his new acquaintance, but I couldn’t.

The time between when Vergil fell into hell and reappeared under Mundus’ control was hard. A mourning period. Dante tried his best to keep my mind off it, but the truth was that we were both struggling to keep it together. It wasn’t all bad, there were happy moments too, but sometimes a book here or a button there would return the somber mood. Vergil admits that he doesn’t have many coherent memories during this time either, and the few he does have are dreamlike fantasies. When he lost against Mundus he lost control of his mind and body for the most part, and when he did come to? Mundus had already made a copy of me to occupy him. This is unfortunately how Nero entered the picture. Once the copy served her purpose she was erased for further torment. When Dante returned from Mallet island and finally opened up, he’d apologized to me for being unable to rescue his brother once again.

Part 2 here

#goblinanswers #god I hope nonshippers never find this #i sound insane #❤️[a thousand years]#💛[call me little sunshine]#💚[Téir abhaile riú]

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gaysparklepires · 6 years

Text

17. Carlisle

Read on AO3

I led him back down the hallway to Carlisle’s office, pausing outside the door in order to give Carlisle an opportunity to invite us in.

“Come in,” Carlisle’s voice called, a tinge of amusement barely detectable in his tone.

I opened the door to Carlisle’s office. I watched Beau’s eyes drift to the high-vaulted ceilings, the tall windows, and the dark paneled walls. His eyes widened as he took in the sheer number of books Carlisle kept in the space.

Carlisle sat in his usual place behind the mammoth mahogany desk. He placed a bookmark in his book and set it down on the desk, his eyes rising to meet Beau’s who was watching him with a strange mixture of surprise and confusion.

“What can I do for you?” Carlisle asked as he rose from his leather chair.

“I wanted to show Beau some of our history,” I said. “Well, your history, actually.”

“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Beau apologized.

So polite. “Not at all. Where are you going to start?” Carlisle smiled.

“The Waggoner,” I replied, gently placing my hand on his warm shoulder and turning him around back towards the entrance to the room. I could hear his heart flutter slightly at my touch and my mind reeled with questions. What did I do? I tried not to think about it, lest I become frustrated.

Beau’s eyes scanned the wall, taking in the nearly overflowing number of framed pictures. His eyes scanned past the brightly colored paintings and lingered on the paintings with more monochromatic tones, which made sense; he liked earth tones. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, like he didn’t understand something about the paintings, but I couldn’t begin to guess his thought process.

I led him toward the far-left side, stopping him in front a small square painting. His eyes studied the varying tones of sepia, the details of the miniature city of steeply slanted roofs and thin spires. I knew the painting well, having spent more time than I cared to admit studying the towers and the little bridge that crossed the wide river.

“London in the sixteen-fifties,” I said, answering Beau’s unspoken question.

“The London of my youth,” Carlisle added, from just behind us. Beau flinched in surprise; I realized he wouldn’t have heard Carlisle approach. I took his hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Will you tell the story?” I asked. Beau twisted slightly to look at Carlisle.

Carlisle met Beau’s glance and smiled. “I would,” he replied. “But I’m actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning—Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do,” he added, grinning at me now. And I’m sure Beau would rather hear them from you.

I raised my eyebrow slightly at Carlisle, letting a tiny smirk dance on the corner of my lips. I couldn’t be disappointed, more time alone with Beau was all I could ask for in this world.

Carlisle gave Beau another warm smile and left the room.

Beau’s eyes returned to the small painting and lingered for a long moment.

“What happened then?” he finally asked, staring up at me, catching me watching him. “When he realized what had happened to him?”

I reluctantly pulled my eyes away from his beautiful face and back to the paintings on the wall. This time my eyes landed on the large landscape slightly to the right of the first painting. Beau’s eyes followed mine and in my peripheral vision I could see him study the dull fall colors of the empty, shadowed meadow in the painting.

“When he knew what he had become,” I said quietly, “he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that’s not easily done.”

“How?” Beau asked suddenly, like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud. The shock was evident in his voice.

“He jumped from great heights,” I told him, impassively. “He tried to drown himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he was able to resist…” I paused, the word caught in my throat slightly, “feeding…” I quickly glanced down to check for a reaction, but Beau didn’t seem bothered, so I continued, “while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try and kill himself with starvation.”

“Is that possible?” Beau’s voice was faint.

“No, there are very few ways we can be killed.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question about what I had said, but I continued before he could. I didn’t want to answer such a dark question.

“So he grew very hungry, and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from the human populace, recognizing that his willpower was weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself.

“One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned, and he realized there was an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his former life? Over the next months, his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a demon. He found himself again.

“He began to make better use of his time. He’d always been intelligent, eager to learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and—”

“He swam to France?” Beau interrupted, an incredulous look on his face.

“People swim the Channel all the time, Beau,” I reminded him, amused by his expression.

“Okay, but people don’t swim to France.”

“Swimming is easy for us—”

“What isn’t easy for you?” He griped.

I waited this time before speaking, amused by his put out expression.

He glanced up at me, huffed quietly, and locked his eyes back on the painting. “I won’t interrupt again, I promise.”

I chuckled at his petulant tone and finished. “Because, technically, we don’t need to breath.”

“You—” He whirled around to face me.

“No, no, you promised.” I laughed, lightly pressing my finger to his warm lips. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“You can’t spring something like that on me and then expect me not to say anything,” he mumbled against my finger.

The feeling of his warm breath against my cold skin was thrilling in an odd way, but not nearly enough. I wanted to feel the warmth of his lips, of his breath against my own lips. I collected my thoughts enough to lift my hand and move it to rest against his neck.

“You don’t have to breathe?” He demanded.

“No, it’s not necessary. Just a habit.” I shrugged. It had been so long now that even I hadn’t thought much about it.

“How long can you go… without breathing?”

“Indefinitely, I suppose; I don’t know. It gets a bit uncomfortable—being without a sense of smell.”

“A bit uncomfortable,” he echoed the words in disbelief.

His expression stopped me then. His eyes were wide with confusion and his expression betrayed his shock. I could feel my own expression grow somber as I studied his face. I dropped my hand to my side, feeling myself turned to stone as studied his face. The silence continued to drag on, I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

“What is it?” Beau finally whispered, putting his hand on my cheek.

His touch was as electric as ever, and I couldn’t stay so serious when he touched me so gently, I sighed. “I keep waiting for it to happen.”

“For what to happen?”

“I know that at some point, something I tell you or something you see is going to be too much. And then you’ll run away from me, screaming as you go.” I managed half a smile, but it was just a show, I was sure he could see how it didn’t meet my eyes. “I won’t stop you. I want you to run, I want you to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to reconcile…”

I trailed off, watching his face, examining every minute change. I waited for his response.

“I’m not running anywhere,” he promised.

“We’ll see,” I smiled sadly back at him.

He frowned at me. “So, go on—Carlisle was swimming to France.”

I paused, trying to reclaim my momentum in the story while simultaneously trying to comprehend how Beau could remain so calm after being confronted with everything he had seen and learned so far. Trying to pick up the story again, my eyes reflexively flickered to another painting on the wall—the most ostentatious of them all. Beau’s gaze followed mine to the colorful, ornately framed painting, his expression became confused again as he tried to make sense of the bright figures and swirling colors.

“Carlisle swam to France, and continued on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he studied music, science, medicine—and found his calling, his penance, in that, in saving human lives.” I couldn’t conceal my own awed reverence for Carlisle in my expression. “I can’t adequately describe the struggle; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous efforts to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital…” I wondered if I could ever gain that level of self-control, if ever I could be around Beau and keep myself so contained and controlled that his blood didn’t claw at my basest most animalistic desires. I realized Beau was watching me expectantly and continued my story. I tapped the gilded frame of the huge painting in front of us.

“He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the wraiths of the London Sewers.”

I gestured to the top part of the portrait where the quartet of unnaturally beautiful figures stood on a balcony looking down in silent judgement of the rabble below. Beau leaned forward and examined the faces carefully, after a moment he let out a startled laugh with his eyes fixed on the golden-haired man.

“Solimena was greatly inspired by the Carlisle’s friends. He often painted them as gods,” I chuckled. “Aro, Marcus, Caius,” I said, indicating the other three figures standing with Carlisle. “Nighttime patrons of the arts.”

“What happened then?” Beau wondered aloud, his fingertip hovering just a centimeter from the two dark-haired and pale blond figures I had named.

“They’re still there.” I shrugged. “As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to ‘his natural food source,’ as they called it. They tried to persuade him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see.

“He didn’t find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine, but the companionship he craved evaded him; he couldn’t risk familiarity.

“When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He’d been turning over an idea in his mind for several years, and he had almost decided to act—since he couldn’t find a companion, he would create one. He wasn’t absolutely sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to steal anyone’s life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was alone. He decided to try…”

I was barely speaking above a whisper now as I trailed off. My eyes drifted, unseeingly, to the west facing windows. My mind was full of memories, not only my own hazy recollections but also Carlisle’s crystal-clear memories that I had seen in his mind. His had become the ones I usually looked back on now, as my actual memories were not nearly as solid.

Beau was quiet at my side. I turned back to him and his patient, adoring expression brought a smile to my face.

“And so we’ve come full circle,” I finished.

“Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?” He wondered.

“Almost always.” I put my hand on his waist and pulled him alongside me as I walked through the door. His eyes lingered back on the wall of paintings, a curious expression in his face. I hoped he wouldn’t question any further about the tenure of my stay with Carlisle.

“Almost?” He asked, because of course he would.

I sighed, reluctant to answer, but the more I kept from him the more curious he would be, and I knew better than most how persistent he could be. “Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence—about ten years after I was… born… created, whatever you want to call it. I wasn’t sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time.”

“Really?” His voice was full of intrigue and curiosity, rather than the fear or repulsion I had expected. Never the reaction I expected.

I continued to lead him up the next flight of stairs, trying to understand his backwards reactions, he only seemed vaguely aware of his surroundings, like he was deep in thought himself.

“That doesn’t repulse you?” I finally questioned.

“No.” He said simply.

“Why not?”

“I guess… it sounds reasonable.” He shrugged, casually.

I let out an unbecoming bark of a laugh at his relaxed tone. We had reached the top of the stairs now, and I led him down the paneled hallway. Since there was no point in being effusive with him, I decided to continue with my story.

“From the time of my new birth,” I murmured, “I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That’s why it took me ten years to defy Carlisle—I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did.

“It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl—if I saved her, then surely I wasn’t so terrible.”

Beau shivered, and I wondered what he was thinking about. No doubt he was imagining me as a monster stalking the streets in the dead of night, vicious and feral hunting down poor defenseless humans. I tried not to think about it and continued, hoping the ending of my story would redeem me in his eyes.

“But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn’t escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved.”

We’d come to a stop in from of the last door in the hall—my door.

“My room,” I informed him, trying to sound casual as I opened the door and led him through.

He looked around my bedroom, his eyes immediately shot to the full wall window facing south. His eyes danced along the winding Sol Duc River, across to the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. He seemed surprised by them for some reason I couldn’t understand.

He pulled his eyes away from the strangely surprising mountains to study the western wall of my room. He took in the shelves of CDs, the sound system, the leather sofa, the thick golden carpet, and the wall curtains.

“Good acoustics?” He offered.

I chuckled and nodded.

I picked up the remote and turned the stereo on, filling the room with soft jazz music. He smiled slightly, then wandered over to my collection of music. He stared at the different CDs for a long while, turning his head to the left then the right. His eyebrows furrowed the longer he looked, I wondered what he could possibly be thinking. I stood and watched him, letting myself revel in the moment. I let the relief wash over me, the sense of near-normalcy that I now felt as he stood here in my room, in my family’s home, like I was a normal boyfriend—like we were a normal couple. There was more than relief, there was a feeling—an emotion I was largely unaccustomed to.

“How do you have these organized?” He asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Umm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame,” I answered absently, still deep in thought.

He turned, and something in my expression made him tilt his head to the side and raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn’t expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me…” I racked my brain for the word and it came to me in a blissful rush, “happy.” I shrugged, smiling slightly.

“I’m glad,” he said, smiling back. I sensed relief in his expression.

This should have made me happier, and yet… I couldn’t help but feel that it would be fleeting, that it would all come crashing down without warning.

He noted the change in my own expression. I realized my smile had faded and my forehead was creased.

“You’re still waiting for the running and the screaming, aren’t you?” He sighed.

Correct, as usual. I couldn’t stop the smile from touching my lips and nodded.

“I’m not scared of you.” He said simply, assuredly.

This stopped me short, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. He wasn’t scared of me? Impossible. He had to be bluffing! No… He wasn’t bluffing. He truly was not scared of me. This made me smile, wide and wickedly, as an impulse flashed through me.

“You really shouldn’t have said that,” I chuckled. If he wasn’t scared of me, then I would show him what he should be afraid of.

I growled, low and throaty; my lips curled back over my venomous teeth. I shifted into a half-crouch, like I did when I hunted. I kept my body tense and ready.

“Um… Edward?”

He wouldn’t see me leap at him—I was far too quick for his eyes to register the movement. I caught him, mid-leap, in the gentlest grip I could manage and flipped him over towards the leather sofa. I set him down on his back so gently I wondered if he even felt it. He stared up at me with bewildered eyes as I crouched over him. My knees were tight against the sides of his hips, locking him in place, and my hands were planted on either side of his head so that he couldn’t move. I bared my teeth just inches from his face.

“Wow,” he breathed. It wasn’t fear, per se, it was… excitement? I felt a surge of excitement pulse through me.

“You were saying?” I growled playfully.

“That you are a very, very terrifying monster,” he said, chuckling.

“Much better.”

“Um.” He struggled against me, vainly. “Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” I smiled, my impulsive side winning out over my better judgement. “I don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

I gently ran my lips along his jaw, then down his perfect neck. His heart thudded against his chest as I softly kissed his neck.

“Edward!” He laughed, futilely struggling against my grip. His heartbeat was erratic and wild as shivers ran down his body.

I could only laugh in triumph as I kissed his throat.

“Can we come in?” Alice’s voice sounded from the hall.

Damn! I groaned. How did I not hear her and Jasper coming before now? Well, I was quite preoccupied, I supposed. I quickly rearranged us on the sofa, placing him next to me and draping his legs over mine just as Alice and Jasper appeared in the doorway. Beau’s cheeks were an exquisitely tempting shade of scarlet, which tempered my annoyance with amusement and not just a little desire.

“Go ahead.” I sighed.

Alice was doing a good job of keeping her thoughts jumbled enough that I couldn’t be sure exactly what she was thinking, she glided to the center of the room and folded herself onto the floor. I wondered what she was keeping from me, but the tenor of her thoughts seemed excited, so it wasn’t bad news. Jasper, however, could not keep his thoughts contained.

Have you no shame? Jasper’s thoughts matched his shocked expression. Having him that close… and, boy, the mood is… tense… in here. He stared at my face and I wondered how the atmosphere must feel to him.

“It sounded like you were having Beau for lunch,” Alice cooed, “and we came to see if you would share.”

Beau stiffened for a moment and I grinned widely, both at Alice’s teasing and Beau’s reaction. He noticed my reaction and forced himself to relax.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood to share,” I answered, pulling Beau even closer to me—recklessly, dangerously close. “In fact, I wasn’t even done myself.”

Alice shrugged, “Fair enough.”

“Actually,” Jasper said, surprising me by smiling himself as he walked into the room, “Alice says there’s going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?”

Beau’s expression was one of blank confusion, like he didn’t understand anything Jasper had just said.

I couldn’t hide my excitement, but I hesitated for a moment.

Alice understood immediately. “Of course you should bring Beau,” she chirped. Jasper shot a slightly wary glance at her, which she ignored. Whatever Jasper was concerned about, he somehow managed to keep it from his thoughts.

“Do you want to go?” I asked Beau, not bothering to hide my excitement.

“Sure.” He smiled up at me. “Um, where are we going?”

“We have to wait for thunder to play ball—you’ll see why,” I promised him.

“Will I need an umbrella?”

We all laughed at his fantastically pragmatic question.

“Will he?” Jasper asked Alice.

“No.” She very sure, and I watched the vision with her. “The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing.”

“Good, then.” Jasper was warming up, and the enthusiasm in his voice radiated out of him into the room. I imagined even Beau was beginning to feel it now.

“Let’s go see if Carlisle will come.” Alice lept up from her seated position to the door in one quick, fluid motion.

“Like you don’t know,” Jasper teased, as they swiftly departed. Enjoy yourself, Edward. Jasper thought as he quietly closed the door.

“What will we be playing?” Beau asked.

“You will be watching,” I answered. “We will be playing baseball.”

His expression was skeptical. “Vampires play baseball?”

“It’s the American pastime,” I said with mock solemnity.

He snickered at me, and I grinned in response.

“Now,” I smiled, feeling reckless and irresponsible again, “where were we?”

He giggled in a poor show of protest as we tumbled around the couch while I kissed his neck and jaw.

The worst was over now, and we had everything to look forward to.

#Midnight Sun #Midnight Sun Revamped #the twilight saga #The Twilight Saga Revamped #Edward Cullen #Beau Swan #Alice Cullen #Jasper Cullen #Carlisle Cullen #ao3 #ao3 link #AO3 update

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athyrabunlord · 7 years

Text

LLSHP Ch6 - Calling

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10 - Moonstruck (TBD)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

A/N: I have no excuses. I’m sorry this chapter is so delayed (눈_눈) anyone still remember this AU? lolool Maa, I would consider this a rest chapter? At least, the plot is moving =A=;;; Anyway, any feedback is very needed greatly appreciated! Words: 5,594

Yoshiko suppresses the urge to yawn, her eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to wake up. The sun is barely peeking over the Forbidden Forest in the distance, and the Hogwarts school ground is filled with silence rather than chatters of witches and wizards. Normally, a night owl such as herself would not be awake at such ungodly hour. But! There’s something she looks forward today - the early bird gets the worm and, in this case, gets the Quidditch Pit!

“Morning! Come on, hurry up you two, we’re gonna be late!”

The Slytherin waves at her Hufflepuff best friends, whose movements only speed up a little at her call. Yoshiko grumbles under her breath but patiently waits for Hanamaru and Ruby to reach her. She didn’t want to go to the Pit by herself so she… kindly invited the two girls to come with her. While neither Hanamaru nor Ruby seem too interested in Quidditch, they still agree to accompany her.

Yoshiko really appreciates their support.

Her fascination with Quidditch started a week ago after her first Flying Lesson. Being Instructor Kousaka’s fangirl, Chika was somehow present during the lesson too and noticed how much Yoshiko enjoyed flying. Naturally, she told her buddy You all about it and the two Gryffindors invited her to come watch their practice session.

Yoshiko feels it weird to watch a different House play, rather than her own, but the dynamic duo would not have it any other way. “Different House or not, you’re our friend, Yoshiko-chan! So You-chan and I will show you just how awesome Quidditch is, hehe!”

Pleased and rather touched by Chika’s words, Yoshiko has vowed to never refer to the two older girls ‘dumb and dumber’ again. Chika and You do have a completely different side when it comes to the sport. They truly are passionate about what they love and that’s something she can relate to and respect. While Yoshiko wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about muggle sports back then, she imagines Quidditch to be super cool since there’s the flying component.

Imagine, conquering the sky like the majestic fallen angel she’s meant to be!

Alas, Hanamaru’s continuous yawning is sort of dampening her excitement.

“Geez I’ve already reminded you again and again last night to go to bed early, why did you set camp at the library again?”

The petite brunette indeed looks tired, though in that content sort of way, and her steps wobble every now and then like she is sleep-walking or something. Yoshiko and Ruby keep close to her as they exchange worried looks, wondering whether to help her carry those thick textbooks or to steady her.

“I can’t help it zura. These books are just so fascinating~”

Yoshiko peeks at some of the pages with bookmarks sticking out it, since she’s unable to pull the books out of Hanamaru’s adamant grip. Hmm, these are all higher-level Potion texts. “Why were you reading these anyway? I thought you’re pretty good at the subject?”

Hanamaru gives her a sleepy smile, which Yoshiko totally does not find to be cute. “You’re still having trouble with Potions right? So once I understand the subject better, I should be able to help you zura!”

“Erm but Lily’s been tutoring me y’know? Thanks to her, I was able to breeze past the written tests!... most of the time anyway. Even she still can’t figure out why my cauldron keeps exploding when I try to brew potions. Oh! She’s been trying to charm this test cauldron so that- “

She proudly chatters on and on as she recalls all those study sessions with her awesome little demon. As per Riko’s promise, she’s been helping Yoshiko with her homework as well as taking her to visit the Thestrals weekly.

“... baka Yoshiko-chan.”

Hanamaru puffs her cheeks and briskly walks ahead, leaving a confused Yoshiko behind.

“What’s with her?”

To her surprise, Ruby is also pouting. “I-I understand where Hanamaru-chan’s coming from.”

“Huh? W-What did I do?” Yoshiko’s starting to get worried now. She teases the brunette enough that the latter gets miffed at her often, but Ruby’s never been upset at her before so this must be serious.

As if sensing her thoughts, Ruby’s expression softens though she still looks exasperated. “It’s just… well, you don’t really spend as much time with us anymore.”

“I don’t?”

Yoshiko drops her gaze, frowning thoughtfully. She took Riko and the golden cat’s advice and did end up telling Dia about everything, and to Hanamaru and Ruby as well. Since then, she would talk to Dia every night at the Slytherin common room about anything unusual that’s happened to her. Even though the Head Girl is always busy, she would set time aside and patiently listen to her. Sometimes, they would talk way into midnight, which makes Yoshiko sheepish for taking so much of Dia’s time, but the older girl never complains.

Dia doesn’t know the reason behind those blank states of mind that Yoshiko sporadically experiences, but she promises the latter that she’s researching on it. As a precautionary measure, Dia has charmed Yoshiko’s scarf to trip her whenever she gets -that- feeling again. While it’s painful to fall flat on her face, this trick has proved its worth a few times already, snapping her awake before she wanders off into the Forbidden Forest.

On the other hand, Hanamaru has buried herself in the library while Yoshiko and Ruby try to locate the Room of Requirement again. Even then, their combined efforts have been fruitless so far, whether about the mysterious room or the Boggart’s nature.

Yoshiko is still unable to acknowledge that her greatest desire is to become an angel, while her worst fear is herself, a fallen angel. Or, at least, that’s what she deduces from the encounter with the Mirror of Erised and the Boggart’s transformation. There must be something else that’s missing.

Overall, however, she is indeed spending more time with Dia and Riko.

“I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry.”

Ruby seems taken aback by her apology. “That’s not what I meant, Yoshiko-chan. Hanamaru-chan and I just want you to know that, um, you can d-depend on us more. W-We’ll do everything we can to help you.”

“You already have. You have know idea how relieved I was when I told you two everything…” Yoshiko coughs awkwardly. She refuses to get all teary again. One time is enough. “But it goes both ways too! I, the great Yohane, will protect my little demons and friends. That said, I still don’t know what the deal was with the Dementor.”

Yoshiko and Ruby glance at each other before looking at Hanamaru, who is walking ahead of them. The brunette doesn’t recall ever encountering that terrifying creature, though she admits that her mind just shuts down whenever she tries to remember. After Yoshiko and Ruby’s suggestion, Hanamaru has also talked to Dia about it. The Head Girl suggested that her mind purposefully erased the memory to protect her psyche, but her subconscious still remembers and that was where the Boggart received the information to transform.

“Yeah, you can depend on me more too, Ruby,” Yoshiko murmurs as a thought occurs to her. Ruby seems proud of their complete trust in Dia, but their closeness to her older sister probably hurts her. Surely, Ruby would want to speak to the older Kurosawa just as easily as Yoshiko and Hanamaru do. Now that Yoshiko has gotten to know Dia more, she’s certain that there must be a reason why Dia is so distant to her little sister.

Again, something’s missing from this puzzle. Yoshiko sighs irritably. Even the intelligent fallen angel gets tired of mysteries, though the answers probably won’t reveal themselves any time soon.

“I agree with Yoshiko-chan,” Hanamaru has slowed down her pace to let the other two catch up to her. “Yoshiko-chan may be a dummy, but she is helpful zura!”

“Who’re you calling a dummy, Bakamaru?!”

Ruby giggles at their banter. “This is just what I want~ … piki!” The redhead blushed after realizing what she just said. As if by unspoken agreement, Yoshiko and Hanamaru hugged Ruby on each side.

“Hehe, Ruby-chan is so cute~” The brunette fawns over her friend while the Slytherin makes a pose.

“Now, no more gloomy talk and let us get back on track for the Quidditch hype!”

“Are you thinking about joining the team, Yoshiko-chan?”

“Ku ku ku, maybe~ How about you, Zuramaru? You said you didn’t like it but you sure flew around once you got used to it!” Yoshiko still remembered how the brunette zoomed all over the field while properly seated on the school broom and shouting ‘mirai zura~’ with a rare childish expression.

“Nah, I enjoy the magical feeling of flying but I don’t think I can play competitively…”

“Ruby then?”

“M-Me?!” Out of the three of them, Ruby is the most experienced flyer, most likely due to being a Pureblood and growing up with brooms readily available. “Um, I would only resort to riding a broom if I have to…”

“Daww, but think about it, what if we each join our House team? You’re small and pretty fast so you should be a good Seeker~! Heh, I’ll probably be a Chaser so I can score like a champ and there’s nothing Zuramaru can do to stop me!”

Hanamaru pouts. “Why am I a Keeper? And why are you so sure I won’t be able to block your shots zura?”

“Because you’re slow- or, on second thoughts, you can just sit on your broom, with books stacked so high to block the hoops, and eat and eat until you balloon up and block-”

A book comes flying to her face, but Yoshiko smoothly dodges it with a smirk. Hanamaru is scowling now as she charms the heavy ‘Hogwarts: A History’ book back to her arms.

“I thought no one’s allowed to touch that precious book?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve fortified the exterior so it’d hurt extra when I hit you with it zura!”

Their staring match doesn’t last long as usual. Yoshiko doesn’t know who starts giggling first but the three of them are laughing by the time they arrive at the Quidditch Pit.

All is well, it seems. Ruby is right. Yoshiko misses this kind of light-hearted atmosphere with her best friends.

“Wow, will you look at that!”

The trio looks up at the red and gold figures streaking around the arena, in awe of how fluid and natural they appear in the sky. The sight is nothing compared to the haphazard broom-riding during those Flying Lessons.

No, these players truly are flying, as if they have become one with their brooms.

The goofy smile is nowhere to be seen on the mikan-haired Gryffindor. With a confident and fiery grin, Chika dives down and swings her stubby club at a round, jet-black ball. There is a rather noticeable ‘Kan’ upon the strike, which is the only warning that a nearby player has before the Bludger swerves towards him. Startled, the wizard drops a football-sized red ball in order to avoid getting hit in the shoulder, but his teammate easily catches the Quaffle and continues his way towards the three hoops. He feigns throwing the ball and abruptly jerks up to hurl it at a different angle.

Kanan, whose long hair is tied at her nape, snatches the Quaffle before it comes anywhere near the side hoop. Another Chaser, a dark-haired witch whose curly tresses is tied in a similar way, waves her arm at the Captain.

When Kanan doesn’t pass her the Quaffle, she smoothes back her wild strands with a defeated smile. “Ah, game’s over?”

“Yup, You’s got the Golden Snitch. It’s our loss this round, Shun,” Kanan chuckles good-naturedly as she gestures for Team A and B to gather in the middle.

Yoshiko gapes. She is so certain that she’s spotted You hovering near the ground just moments ago, but the Seeker is now circling high around the bleacher area with a winged golden ball in her hand.

“Ah~ ah~ not fair! Whoever gets You on their team would always win~” Chika twirls her bats as she nears her friend, the broom seemingly sentient for it moves without her touching the stick to direct it. The other Beater nods in agreement, casually knocking the Bludger away when it flies near them.

“Yeah, no way I can compete with our MVP,” an older wizard heartily pats You on the back. The back-up Seeker doesn’t look at all sour but rather proud of the younger girl.

“Oh come on, you were the one who taught me, senpai-” You is cut off by Chika, who wraps an arm around her neck and ruffles her hair.

“No need to be humble, You-chan! You’re our trump card, the… uhm… the Silver Lioness!”

The impromptu nickname is received with loud acclamation from the rest of the team. The Chasers juggle the Quaffle and pass it amongst them as they ascend towards the center, their balance and teamwork just as impressive. The Captain raises one fist into the air, prompting the others to pause and listen.

“Solid practice everyone. I’m pretty confident we’re going to have amazing matches this year,” Kanan’s voice isn’t particularly resonant, yet her leisurely tone seems to instill excitement in her team.

“You bet we will!”

“Yeah, we’re gonna carry the Cup home again this year!”

The collective cheer afterwards is deafening.

Yoshiko gulps. This is the famed Gryffindor Lions, the reigning champion? Her fantasies of joining the Quidditch team just evaporates into thin air. Sure, it looks fun to toss the Quaffle around and score, and badass to smack the Bludger at targets. Not to mention, being a Seeker seems like an important, almost-heroine-eqsue position that would be suitable for the great fallen angel Yohane.

Except she doesn’t want to compete with You or any of them, not after seeing how powerful they are.

“They’re really good zura…” Hanamaru whispers, and Ruby nods fervently beside her. Normally, Yoshiko would have refuted that she can do better, but not this time. Quidditch is out of her league.

After giving out a few more instructions, the Captain then calls for a break time. As the team disperses into smaller groups, the three familiar Gryffindors descends towards them.

“Ohayousorou, you three!” You’s grin is as charming as always, perhaps more so now that she’s clad in her team garb and after the impressive spectacle they just witnessed.

“I’m glad you all came~ So? What do you think, Yoshiko-chan?” Even Chika appears dazzling. With her hair pulled back and tied in a side tail and eyes bright like the sun, she seems like a different person than the playful witch who always gives out mikans.

“Urm, uh, you’re pretty cool.”

You and Chika blink, as if they haven’t expected such positive response from her.

Yoshiko’s ears redden in embarrassment. “What! Be grateful that Yohane-sama is impressed… just sliiiightly impressed, by all that flying. But I really don’t think-”

“That’s great! So what do you think? Chaser? Kurosaki-senpai is our top scorer,” Chika gestures at the older witch with wild tresses. “The other guys are awesome too! Or you wanna be a Beater like me? Heh heh, my deadly finisher, Kan Kan Strike, is not to be taken lightly!”

Chika then starts swinging her dual bats around, showing off all her moves. Yoshiko sweatdrops, but at least the Gryffindor is back to the silly version she is used to so she doesn’t feel as intimidated anymore.

“Why are you so keen on me joining the Quidditch team anyway? I’m a Slytherin, remember? We won’t be on the same team!”

“So? The more the merrier! It’ll be super fun if we can compete at a match,” Chika hugs Ruby affectionately. “How about you, Ruby-chan? Not to be rude but Hufflepuff hasn’t had a decent team for a long time… oh! But they used to kick ass when Professor Minami was on the team! At least, that’s what Coach said~”

Yoshiko raises an eyebrow. Really? Their fluffy, mellow Transfiguration Professor?

You also gives Ruby a friendly hug. “How about Seeker? Didn’t Dia-san used to be Slytherin’s Seeker? Senpai used to tell me how scary Dia-san was before I joined the team… I guess I lucked out that I didn’t have to compete against her!”

Since Chika and You are taller and are facing Yoshiko, they miss the surprised expression on Ruby’s face. Does she not know that her older sister used to play Quidditch?

“Or, last but not least, if you would rather oversee the entire Pit and hone your reflexes to block shots, then become a Keeper like Kanan-chan!”

Yoshiko looks over at the Captain and scowls at the sight of Hanamaru happily chatting with the older girl. Huh? Where did that water bottle come from? Why is Bakamaru giving the giant a towel? Is Kanan thanking her? Did she just pat Bakamaru’s head? Why is Bakamaru laughing? Is that a blush on her face? Why is this so aggravating??

“Oi~ Earth to Yoshiko-chan~”

“I’ll be right back,” Yoshiko ignores You and Chika’s bewildered stare and stomps towards Kanan and Hanamaru. Before she could even speak up, an unexpected visitor flies past her and hops off her broom near the two.

“Oh hey, Mari,” Kanan’s smile is characteristically easygoing, but it twitches when the Ravenclaw shoves a Quaffle against, ahem, her breasts.

“Ka~na~n! You haven’t forgotten, have you?” Mari is also dressed in her blue and bronze Quidditch uniform, her signature braid and hair loop replaced by a simple scrunchie that tied her hair in a low side-tail.

“Of course not. I’ve been looking forward to it since last summer.” For once, Kanan’s lax demeanor blazes in determination, a fire similar to what Chika and You exhibited earlier.

“Apparently Kanan-chan and Mari-san made a bet - something’s supposed to happen if Mari-san scores more than 100 points in their next match,” Hanamaru whispers to Yoshiko helpfully.

The Slytherin frowns. “You sure know a lot about that Gryffindor.”

“Huh?”

For good measure, she takes off Hanamaru’s glasses and cleans the lens before putting them back on the latter’s face.

“W-What? Yoshiko-chan??”

“Hnff. Do you see me now?”

“Um, yes, I do see you-?”

Yoshiko huffs and merely folds her arms. Bakamaru really is bakamaru. At least, Mari’s sudden presence here interrupts the irksome interaction between the brunette and the Gryffindor Captain. Now she just needs to drag Hanamaru away...

“Mari, you shouldn’t be here though, it’s Gryffindor’s turn to use the Pit.”

“Hmm? Who says I’m here to practice? The rest of my team isn’t here. I only came here because I sensed jealous fire~”

Yoshiko winces and glares at the smirking Ravenclaw, who then suddenly pulls her to the side.

“I overhead all of your little conversation with Chikacchi and You-chan. I think you’re suitable to be either Chaser or Seeker.”

“Why would I want to be?” Yoshiko suspiciously glances at the Quaffle in Mari’s hand. “If I become a Chaser, that means I’d have to compete against you, don’t I?”

“Not really. First Years, especially newbies like you, would not be able to join a Quidditch Team just yet. By the time you do join, Kanan, Dia and I would have graduated.”

She blinks at the revelation. “Oh, that’s right…”

“Daw, you sound sad, Yoshiko-chan~!”

“Am not!”

“Don’t be shy~ But that’s why we want to know now, whether you’d like to join the team or not.”

“Why do you care anyway?” Indeed, out of all the seniors, Yoshiko doesn’t feel particularly close to Mari because they haven’t talked much. Yet why does it feel like Mari knows a lot about her already?

“Well, for many reasons. But remember what you heard earlier, that Dia used to be Slytherin’s Seeker. Wouldn’t you like to succeed her?”

Mari’s cheshire smile is infectious, for Yoshiko finds herself returning the toothy grin as she envisions the possibility. If she becomes just as good as Dia, and somehow defeats You and the Gryffindors, she would get recognized right? Everyone would acknowledge her! And surely, Zuramaru would be so smitten that she’d bring her the water bottle, wipe her sweat away with the towel and maybe even…

“Yoshiko-chan?”

“Ack-!”

She snaps out of her fantasy and sheepishly looks away from Hanamaru’s inquiring gaze. In that brief moment of her daydreaming, Mari has long left her side and is chatting with Chika, You and Ruby, while Kanan has returned to the rest of her team and is giving pointers.

“Are you okay zura?”

Yoshiko stares at the Pit, at the players zipping around on their brooms, and lastly at the clouds high in the sky. While she isn’t quite sure why she wants Hanamaru’s attention on her and her only, she thinks that she’s found her calling in the magical world. She loves most subjects and excels in Defense Against Dark Arts, but her still-developing magical reservoir and small repertoire of spells don’t allow her to do much, not yet anyway.

However, if she can master Quidditch, she can stand out in spite of being just a First Year. The Slytherin Team would definitely want her to join by then. And, as a revered individual, surely she can get those ghosts to stop bothering Ruby altogether, and maybe she can find out what the situation is between the Kurosawa sisters. Furthermore, being an MVP should grant her special privilege and sway, so it would be easy to obtain special pass to the Forbidden Section at the Library for Hanamaru.

Be useful, that’s all she wants.

“Yes, I’m more than okay, Zuramaru!” Yoshiko grins and points her finger into the sky. “Believe me!”

She feels very encouraged by the brunette’s subsequent smile.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“Phew, I think I’ve gotten the hang of acceleration…”

Yoshiko breathes deeply, allowing the fresh clean air to fill her lungs as she opens her arms wide. Much to her joy, the broom continues to travel straight and her altitude does not waver at all. Good, she has synchronized with her borrowed broom enough that she does not need to give it directions for simple movements.

Now that she’s set her goal to join the Quidditch team, she needs to become skilled enough at least. It’s easier said than done, and already she’s run into obstacles in her self-training. She definitely needs an experienced flyer to give her advice on the more difficult maneuvers, particularly those that Seekers frequently use. Chika and You are more than happy to help her, but apparently Riko has the two tightly leashed due to their less-than-mediocre grades on certain subjects. Well, it is mostly Chika, but You has enough camaraderie to suffer with her partner.

Still, the Gryffindor Seeker has lent her one of her many spare brooms, a Nimbus 2016. Even though it was a gift from You’s fans, Yoshiko refuses to accept such a valuable item for free and vows to return it when she can afford her own broom.

True to her words, she carefully plans her schedule so that she would spend enough time with Ruby and Hanamaru, while still be able to attend tutor sessions with Riko and have her nightly talks with Dia.

Ah, how wonderful it is to have a fulfilling life!

Yoshiko glances at the direction of the Forbidden Forest and, after a moment’s hesitation, she decides to fly over there to see if she is lucky today. During one of her flights, -that- feeling had possessed her and since she was on a broom, the charmed scarf couldn’t stop her from going there.

It was a familiar creature who stopped her then, just like this time.

“Hehe, my faithful little demon! How are you?”

Lucifer responds by perching on her face, almost making her fall off the broom.

“Hey hey! How dare you treat your master with such disrespect!!”

The bat clicks in annoyance but pushes away from her head, allowing her to regain stability. Yoshiko is pretty certain that the creature likes her, at least enough to stop her from sailing straight into the Forbidden Forest every time.

“Hnff, to think, I brought you Lily’s sandwich too… well, insolent little demons shouldn’t get rewards, don’t you agree?”

Ears flattened, Lucifer gingerly hooks its claws on her cloak and doesn’t protest when she scratches its furry head. Yoshiko feels slightly bad to resort to bribery, but how else would she get the temperamental bat to stay?

The pair contentedly enjoys their afternoon picnic in the sky, and Lucifer even continues to fly along side her long after it’s finished the sandwich. There’s progress at least. Perhaps one day, the bat could become her pet that happens to live in the wild but would deliver and send mails for her, like how most magical folks are with their owls.

“So what do you think? Wanna become my pet? I won’t force you to do anything except help me send out mails. I don’t mind using the Aviary, and Ruby lends me her owl, but I’d still prefer to enlist the help of one of my own legion.”

Lucifer flicks its ear to show that it’s listening.

“I haven’t decided on a meeting spot with Lily this week yet, to see the Thestrals, so I’ll need to send her a mail. Maybe you can deliver that for me?”

The bat seems to be flapping its wings extra hard. That must be a yes.

Yup, one step at a time. Soon, Lucifer shall be hers. Yoshiko wonders if she should tell Riko about the bat’s crush on her.

“Ah, there’s Zuramaru again! How many times do I have to tell her not to do this? Well then, I’ll see you around, Lucifer!”

The bat glides away before she even finishes her sentences, as if to show that it doesn’t really care. Yoshiko shakes her head in exasperation before descending towards a huge tree near the shore of the Great Lake.

Carefully, she comes to a stop in front of the sleeping brunette and gets off her broom so quietly that her shoes barely make a rustle against the grass. Hanamaru continues to nap peacefully, which makes Yoshiko frown.

“Oi, you shouldn’t fall asleep like this! It’s dangerous out here by yourself. What if I’d been a bad guy? Geez, you’re so defenseless.”

“Hmmmnnn-? Yoshiko-chan?” The Hufflepuff rubs at her eyes and smiles up at her in greeting. Yoshiko refuses to acknowledge that gesture as cute and instead focuses her attention on the huge cloak draped around her friend. From the color of the hood, it was from a Gryffindor.

“...I thought you read by yourself, here by the Lake,” Yoshiko tries to keep her tone from sounding accusing.

“I do, most of the time, but Kanan-chan and I sometimes nap here together.”

“What! Her again!!”

Yoshiko seethes inwardly, mustering all her energy to keep her expression as aloof as possible. Hanamaru doesn’t seem to notice her dilemma as she digs around Kanan’s pocket for something. She pulls out a piece of parchment that has a messy scrawl, obviously written in a hurry.

“Oh, something’s come up, so Kanan-chan left in a hurry.”

“That’s awful for her to do that, to leave you alone like this. As I’ve said before, what if I’d been a bad guy and here you are, oblivious to the world around you-”

Her rant is interrupted by Hanamaru’s displeased poke. “Kanan-chan’s not awful! She’s protective of me zura! She’s always instructed her friend to watch over me as I nap.”

Yoshiko scowls. “What friend?”

The shorter girl points towards the Lake and, on cue, a massive shadow nears the surface and a tentacle bursts out of the water!!

“What the heck is that!?”

“The Giant Squid,” Hanamaru says evenly and waves at the two-story tall tentacle, which returns the gesture before submerging under the fathomless lake once more.

“... that Gryffindor made friends with that thing??”

“Well, Kanan-chan loves diving, and she said she likes the Lake because it reminds her of where she used to live in the Muggle world. She also enjoys jogging-”

Yoshiko soon zones out as Hanamaru goes on and on about the Quidditch Captain. She tries really hard to focus, she really does, but an unpleasant sensation in her chest makes it difficult to think, let alone absorb her friend’s words. Mari had said that she’s jealous, and she’s probably right. After all, who wants to listen to the person you like talking about someone else?

Wait, what?

“...Yoshiko-chan? You have a really weird expression on your face zura.”

“You’re imagining it.” She rubs her face hard, hoping that her cheeks aren’t red. Her heart is still pounding uncomfortably fast in her ribcage at the revelation. No way she likes Hanamaru. Or, yes, she does like her, but only as a friend!

She just doesn’t like it because Kanan is able to impress Hanamaru while the great Yohane can’t, that’s all. Yes, that must be the reason for her conflicted feelings. No, she isn’t jealous at all!

“Mou, Yoshiko-chan! That’s not what you agreed with Ruby-chan and I!”

“Zuramaru-?” Yoshiko gulps when the brunette grabs her face so they would look at each other in the eyes.

“You’ve promised to tell us if there’s something bothering you. And, there’s something bothering you, isn’t here zura?”

Yes, you’re too close, Bakamaru! Way too close! Yoshiko shouts in her mind while her lips remain tightly shut. Instead of replying, she tugs the glasses away from Hanamaru, who expectedly lets go and tries to reclaim it.

“Yoshiko-chan is mean! Give it back zura!”

“Nuh-uh. You’ve told me that your eyesight isn’t that bad and you really only need it for reading. Come on, look around you, see where you are. Enjoy the view! Won’t all the greenery help your eyesight or something?”

“I-I guess.” Pouting in resignation, Hanamaru leans back against the tree as she folds Kanan’s cloak into a neat pile. “My eyes do get very tired if I read for too long…”

“See? And that’s why you sleep a lot. This all makes sense now! You need to take more breaks often.”

Glad that the topic has completely changed, Yoshiko rambles on about how her night vision is amazing and she can see far, being the amazing fallen angel she is.

Hanamaru doesn’t stay peeved for long as she giggles at her antics. “Yoshiko-chan really hasn’t changed.”

The Slytherin purses her lips. “...that again? I-I’m sorry, Zuramaru, but I really don’t remember. I wish I do, but I don’t.”

“No, it’s okay zura. We were both so little, and to be fair my memories aren’t that clear either.”

“Huh? But then how come you remember what I used to be like?”

At this, Hanamaru’s cheeks darken which in turn causes Yoshiko to blush too. “I don’t remember exactly how we met, but I know that we used to play a lot, at this small park. My grandparents would take me there from time to time, and you were always there zura.”

Yoshiko scrunches her brows, trying really hard to dig through memories of her childhood. Alas, all she had are images of her being ostracized by other kids, and no Zuramaru.

“Tell me more?”

The brunette draws up her legs against her and rests her chin on her knees, her small smile full of nostalgia. “Well, you always talked about the sky, how you were originally an angel zura. I loved listening to your stories… ah, but you didn’t like it when I called them stories. You said they were real-life experiences and that you had special powers…” She trails off abruptly, her eyes widening as if realizing something.

“What?”

“The Dementor-!”

“What about it? Y-You remember how you met that creature?” Yoshiko recalls the horrendous wraith-like creature from that DADA workshop. Boggart or not, its effects had been real. The textbooks they had researched state that Dementors suck happiness and any good feeling, which was what they had experienced in the classroom that day.

“Y-Yes, I think I remember now,” Hanamaru’s voice is shaking. “Before, I only remember you saving me from something, and showing me something unbelievable. T-That’s why I’ve been interested in magic since, hoping t-that I would find you again some day.”

“Y-You’re saying, I somehow saved you from a Dementor?” Yoshiko is in disbelief. Dia and Kanan had used some sort of silvery spell against the Boggart-Dementor. The Patronus is a highly advanced spell that even the Third Years haven’t learned, so how would a small child like her know of it years ago?

Seeing how distressed the brunette is from reminiscing, Yoshiko tries to light up the atmosphere. “I’m super awesome then! Ku ku ku, I’m more badass than I thought, saving you from the Dementor with my fallen angel powers~!”

“Yes, you did zura,” Hanamaru wipes away the cold sweat from her brow, her eyes still glazed in deep thoughts and fright. “It was chasing us I think. I tripped...but you stood in front of me. You summoned a Patronus somehow, it was a silvery...fish? And-”

Yoshiko blinks, her hearing becoming muffled and her vision dimming. Flashes of images invade her mind, distorted and blurry as they are. Yes, there was a hooded creature that glided across the grass, its lifeless grey skin barely visibly under its wispy robes.

Pain pierces her chest then and she struggles to breathe as she doubles over. Hanamaru’s panicking calls are so obscured, fading along with her flickering consciousness.

“One day, I’ll return to the sky…” Yoshiko whispers hoarsely before her vision blacks out.

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