#personally i recall the patches at the ruins and then by the barrier but that's it

[n0maku]

HELLO FELLOW UNDERTALE FOLLWERS I HAVE RISEN AGAIN WITH THE RELEASE OF THIS YEAR'S PAPYRUS Q&A. PAPYRUS LORE CRUMB REAL!!

[ahdenyadahling]

Final Fantasy XV- Fate & Destiny

Chapter One, Part One

Chapter One will consist of my own AU backstory, taking place around where Chapter 2 is in the game. For now, I don't believe anything is restricted, although as the story progresses, it will become more mature. Warning tags will be added then.

Chapter One: Fate and Destiny

Fate and Destiny. Synonyms of a sort, though one sounds like doom and the other, a happy ever after. Neither is correct, nor completely wrong. I suppose it depends on the fated or destined situation. I never dreamed one or perhaps both of those words would describe my fortune.

Within the Kingdom of Lucis, the Crown City of Insomnia had been at peace for more than a century. Though to have heard my father talk, it was simply a matter of time until the Niflheim Empire found an advantage, shattering our illusions. It was only very recently the Imperials had done just that, infiltrating and bringing the illustrious city to ruins in one fell swoop. An unknown source had conjured a way to break down the magical barrier which held the Empire’s menacing machines at bay for over a decade, leading to the destruction of the city.

I had only been to the Crown City once or twice when I was very small, and there’s not much I can recall besides long concrete roads and lighted buildings which reached the sky. It was impossible to forget the Royal Castle, the Citadel. It was a massive masterpiece of stone and marble, shining white and, to a child like myself, there was something warm and pure about it. For weeks after my visit, I would ask my father what it would be like to live there, to count how many rooms there were and find out what kinds of people worked there. He forced a smile and gave my head a pat. He told me of guards and cooks, of teachers and royalty, but said living there would be lonely, especially for a child.

He died a few months back, just before we heard on the radio that the Crown City had fallen, and so had the King, the Prince, and his betrothed. It was a sad situation, the Imperials trying to annihilate the entire royal family. Here in Duscae, southwest of Insomnia, King Regis no longer held the authority of his ancestors. Though most citizens still saw him as their ruler and protector, King Regis seemed a myth. It was his magic that had kept the Imperials from overtaking Insomnia and this outlying land, though some were bitter that his focus was kept on barricading his precious capital. It seemed as though he had traded the remainder of Lucis for the safety of the Capital. Since his death, my mother and I had seen several Imperial Warships pass overhead. They were gargantuan metal wonders, or rather, horrors, that appeared to carry perhaps thirty of their mechanized soldiers. I had seen some of these soldiers with my own eyes, dropping from the sky with guns, patrolling nearby towns or scouting the forests as if in search of someone. Rumor had it that they even had tall robots, large enough for a person to sit inside and control, with machine guns for arms, some able to shoot small rockets. With weapons like that, it seemed no wonder to me that Insomnia fell. Yet in all fairness, the warships themselves were a marvel. They had no wings, yet were able to glide through the air almost noiselessly. At night, they could be spotted by the huge, glowing red orb that seemed to power it. As fascinated as I am with Imperial technology, they can keep it far from me.

I’ve lived these past nineteen years in Duscae with my parents, Arthur and Louisa Willowby, on a little patch of land, part forest, part field, with nary a care for the larger world. My father spent the majority of his career in the Crownsguard, a soldier for King Regis, and spent weeks, sometimes months in the Crown City. My mother, also once in service to the King as a music teacher, retired when she found out she was pregnant with me. She and I were able to get by on our own while Father was away, cultivating our garden and raising a few animals. After an injury, my father was honorably discharged from service to retire. However, he claimed he needed to do more. He joined a local Hunter’s group, which basically made him a bounty hunter for large beasts and daemons that had begun to infiltrate the area. With his military background, he got a little cocky when agreeing to take a bounty. Even when a beast seemed out of his skill set, he wanted to make an attempt, to keep others safe. Yet this last mission, well, it was his last mission.

[lins-fandom-hub]

09/01/1998 (1)

Part 1 || Part 2

Here’s part 1 of a 2-part fic that I wrote that commemorates Clara’s Hogwarts friends/peers lost to battle against the forces of evil.

The concept of time was humankind’s greatest enigma. It cared not about what happens in the life of any one person. Like the river in the wood, it flowed, knowing not of the stones overturned or the sediments caught in its current. Once a mark had been made, there was no erasing it; once a phenomenon had come to pass, there was no reverting it to what once was.

Time was supposed to help the dust settle over the ruins. Thoroughly damaged beyond repair, yet shrouded in the remnants of what once transpired, the image of what history left behind would only be made clearer after time had passed. Time was supposed to help the physical cuts heal. The open lacerations seeping blood through the flesh would have scabbed and closed with patches of new skin depending on how deep the wound was. Even as they happened, though, time would never let anyone forget the phenomenon that had ensued. Time didn’t care how anyone healed, grieved, smiled, or cried.

Time certainly didn’t care how anyone lived or died.

Clara closed her fingers over her wand and stood from her chair, empty eyes that once bore tears lingering on the sunny scenery outside her window. All those years ago, she had prayed for a sunny day to greet her on the day she departed home for Hogwarts, and every year, it had always been either cloudy or rainy--she even remembered the stormy day that commenced her third year all too well. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked at the clock by her writing desk--it was 9:00 am. If she was still a student, she’d be travelling right now in one of the Ministry cars her father borrowed from the Ministry with him to King’s Cross Station, her mind abuzz solely with plans to find Jacob and bring him home. If she was still in China, she’d be drilled through military exercises set by the captain of the Chinese Wizarding Task Force without a single thought of her past. Those days were long gone, though--the past was now behind her. Today was a special day, but not for a good reason. Today, she and what remained of her circle of friends would throw a special celebration in memory of all the friends who had fallen, and all of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort at Hogwarts.

Merlin...the Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago. It had taken so long for the dust to settle over the relics, but she couldn’t move past the horror that she had witnessed. Her chest ached as visions began to swim in her mind--the corpses of her friends lying in the rubble, the crack of every spell relentlessly attacking those who still remained standing. She recalled the number of spells she had to deflect with her steel fans from the Task Force when her protective barriers shattered, the triangle of Death Eaters surrounding her at once threatening her to collapse. If she closed her eyes, she could see every misfired curse shattering the stone walls, tossing bodies back as if they were only rag dolls…

The soothing touch of her fiance’s fingers tracing over her arm eased her breathing, but it did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes again.

“What are you thinking about, Clara?” Barnaby asked her quietly, gently wrapping his strong arms around her from behind and holding her close to him. She could only hum as she leaned back into his chest, exhaling quietly as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“It’s the Battle, is it?”

Clara nodded. “Well...sort of.” She opened her eyes, turning to face her fiance. “There was something Dumbledore told me so long ago, back when we were still sixth years. He said that if there was one thing anyone could count on, it’s death. It comes for everyone in the end. But you know how quickly it took a lot of our friends--Rowan in our sixth year, Cedric the summer before I left for China…”

“I know,” Barnaby murmured, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. “I know.”

“It’s hard,” Clara whispered. “It’s so hard…”

She buried her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around Barnaby as she tried her hardest not to sob. The terror that first gripped at her when she fought apart from him snaked its way back into her chest, not unlike the cursed ice that spread through the school in her second year. Death took so many people she held dear to her over the years, it was a miracle that she still remained standing. Rowan...Ben...Tonks...Fred...Talbott...heck, she couldn’t even begin to believe that Merula was dead, too. Even Dobby and Cedric, whom she didn’t know very well, felt like kin--and yet they too were brutally murdered long before the ultimate siege.

“What do you think they’ll be doing?” Barnaby wondered, tilting his head slightly. “You know, in the world of the dead.”

Clara winced slightly at the question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled eventually. “Maybe look down upon us like angels would.”

“I know Rowan is. She’s your best friend, after all--what best friend wouldn’t want to shield you from harm?” Barnaby said, slowly rubbing a hand over Clara’s back to calm her down.

“To think that everyone went into this battle not trying to protect me for the vaults this time, but fight against the one all wizardkind feared,” Clara mused. “I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. I just hope that what we invited everyone to do today would be enough to finally find closure and…”

Barnaby nodded as she trailed off, tilting her head up with a hand to look her in the eyes. Her glasses were smudged from the tears now streaming over her face.

“I’m sure they will love it,” Barnaby reassured her softly. “Not just all the ones still alive, but those who passed on. I know I would.”

It’s taken Clara weeks to pull herself together after the battle, and even more after that to seek solace from those who still remain. Only a few days ago did she finally settle the date of their wedding, yet it didn’t feel right to celebrate a day of union without sharing it with all their friends, alive or dead.

Two days to go. After that, our lives might change for the better.

She had to hold it together. Not just for them, but for herself too. Closure would not be given to those still vulnerable to breaking.

“Yeah,” she finally murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I would, too.”

---

There was no bachelor and bachelorette party for this couple--heck, they couldn’t imagine the consequences for the other should a disaster occur while they were apart. Instead, a few weeks ago, Clara had sent her owl, Wagner, out into the world with letters for all their friends and loved ones. Today, everyone who was willing to come would Apparate to their house, and then gather in their vast open backyard in the evening where the ceremony would commence. 

“And done,” Barnaby declared as he delicately placed the final cherry on the top of a massive white-iced three-layer cake. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked at his best baking masterpiece--no, it was not their wedding cake, but it looked good enough to be one.

That was when the doorbell rang, and he jumped, almost knocking the cake over.

“I got it!” Clara called, running down the stairs and securing her crimson crystal hair tie around the single braid over her left shoulder. “Just set the parlour up, Barnaby.”

“Will do.” Barnaby nodded and carried the massive cake to the parlour, humming a little tune to himself.

Clara opened the door to reveal Penny and Beatrice now standing at the threshold. Both of them were wearing black dresses that went down to their knees. The plaits that were normally in Penny’s hair were now combed out, her hair now split into two braids down her shoulders. Beatrice’s hair, for the first time since Clara could recall, was held back with a headband, revealing both of her blue eyes cast down with a sad glimmer.

“Clara!” Penny greeted her friend with a hug, which Clara wholeheartedly returned.

“Hey, Penn.”

Time had changed the little girls who became friends in their first year to young adults who had survived more than one war. As they broke the embrace and looked at each other, they both caught the matured gleam now stripped of whatever carefree sparkle once graced their eyes, the tragedies they both withstood in their time at school, the weariness that came with demands that required their individual expertises.

“You hanging in there?” Penny asked Clara quietly. “I know it’s been hard on all of us.”

Clara nodded solemnly. “Trying to. It wasn’t hard when the names in the list of casualties were still unrecognizable, but it’s different now when everyone you knew gave their all to protect the school and the Boy Who Lived. Not to say I regret it--”

“I know what you mean. I’m sure none of them regretted it either,” Penny assured her.

“At least we’re still together,” Clara said with a shrug. “Jacob, little Em and I at least escaped the war unscathed. And you’ve got Beatrice, too.”

Beatrice nodded as she produced another stuffed Puffskein from her pocket--almost similar to the one she gave Clara when they first met--and gave it to her. “Is your sister coming?”

“She should be,” Clara confirmed with a nod. “Do come in, both of you. We have cake and Butterbeer in the parlour, and I think Barnaby should almost be finished with grooming the Puffskeins.”

The second one to arrive, much to Clara’s surprise, was Skye Parkin, her Wigtown Wanderers jersey billowing in the wind as she hopped off her Comet 290 in front of their house.

“Skye!” Clara exclaimed upon her arrival. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, what with training for your upcoming tournaments.”

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I might as well be there for it,” Skye responded shortly, giving Clara a small smile. “Besides, one of our Chasers recently came down with a serious bout of Scrofungulus. We don’t have any backup players to properly play against the Applewood Arrows today.”

“Oh. That’s a bummer. You wish I was there to step up to the plate?” Clara asked, remembering fondly her short tenure as Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“It would be nice. But I figured you need time to...you know,” Skye said uneasily, and Clara nodded in understanding.

Shortly after Skye went in to help herself to some of Barnaby’s cake and chat with Penny, Andre, Murphy, and Orion made their appearance on Clara’s doorstep. Andre’s Pride of Portree jersey flapped in the wind behind him, in the same manner as Skye’s jersey. Murphy’s colourful tie worn for all his Quidditch commentating duties was swapped today with a black bowtie. Orion was also wearing all black from head to toe.

“I told the staff that I wasn’t feeling well,” Murphy explained. “And I’m not! There’s a 95.7% chance that after such a travesty it’s hard to think of the light ahead.”

“But what is light without darkness?” Orion asked. “It’s with light that we have darkness.”

“Or should it be the other way around?” Andre queried, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing this, Curse-breaker. In a time like this, I think we all really need it.”

“Thanks, Andre. And I’m happy to see you’re alive and well too, Murphy and Orion,” Clara said, bowing them into her home where they went to the parlour to meet Penny, Beatrice, Skye and Barnaby. 

Soon, Chiara, Jae, Diego, and little Em all arrived together, the girls holding onto extravagant bouquets of colourful flowers. Jae was holding tightly onto Chiara’s free hand, balancing a large box of delicacies in his other hand. Diego’s fingers were interlaced with little Em’s, his scarf from his old school days wrapped around little Em’s shoulders to keep her warm.

“Darn it. I miss my hoodie already,” Jae muttered, his teeth chattering slightly.

“Relax, Jae. It’ll only be for today,” Chiara consoled him with a small smile before turning towards Clara. “How are you doing, Clara?”

“Faring as well as I can,” Clara simply said, smiling wanly at the group. “Thanks for coming, guys--really, it means a lot.”

“Anything to get to spend time with you, Clara,” little Em reassured her older sister with a hug. “I would not miss my sister’s wedding for anything in the world.”

Diego nodded in agreement as little Em returned to his side shortly after. “Indeed. How swiftly childhood leaves us as we emerge as veterans from a war well fought and won.”

“I just hope that this celebration would mark the first chapter of genuine happiness for all of us,” Chiara finally piped up. “With all that’s happened, I figured we all need it.”

A little while into the afternoon, Tulip, Liz, and Badeea arrived together, Badeea’s hands still smeared with paint as she brought in a giant portrait of their fallen friends. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, and Angelina followed swiftly, George still trying to hold back tears as he held fast to Angelina’s hand; Clara couldn’t blame him. George didn’t just lose a brother in the battle, after all; he lost his twin, his second half who understood him better than anyone.

How quickly everyone’s grown, Clara realized, as she closed the door behind the Weasleys and followed them into the parlour. Glancing around at her friends grabbing drinks and some of Jae’s homemade delicacies or the cake Barnaby made, talking in low voices among themselves like old friends, she could see the hint of sadness in their eyes along with the gleam of maturity that long replaced the carefree, happy spirit they once felt. They fought more than just one battle, leaving them all with more scars than they’d hoped for--yet through their grief, they remained standing strong. They had weathered through so many storms together that they became the storm themselves.

“Is that everyone?” Chiara asked quietly as she sipped from her bottle of Butterbeer, watching the large crowd mill around the parlour and the kitchen. “Or are we still waiting for a few people?”

Clara frowned as she glanced at the clock--it was now five in the afternoon, and there were still a few last stragglers she had yet to see. “I think we have Ismelda and Jacob to wait for,” she eventually answered. “Jacob I know is with my parents, but Ismelda...I haven’t heard from her since the end of the war.”

“Ismelda’s still alive?” Penny asked, raising a brow and glancing at Beatrice.

“What are you looking at me for?” Beatrice inquired, grabbing another piece of cake from the dainty multi-tiered platter on the table. “I haven’t kept tabs on Ismelda either since I graduated from school.”

CRACK!

A sudden Apparition within the house made everyone jump, Beatrice almost dropping her cake in the shock--when the smoke cleared, Clara saw Ismelda and Erika standing in the middle of the parlour, travelling cloaks fastened tight around them. Ismelda quickly drew her arm away from Erika, massaging her upper arm to rid it of the soreness in the potential death grip.

“Did you have to grip onto me that hard?” Ismelda grumbled, shooting Erika a death glare. “And I thought I already told you I didn’t want to go!”

“I had to do what I could to make sure you got here in one piece,” Erika shrugged. “And if you say another word about this gathering being nothing but a waste of time--”

“Fine, fine.” Ismelda shook her head, a groan escaping her mouth. “Anything to save you from using me as your practice dummy.”

“That’s more like it.” Erika gave her a little smirk, her eyes darting about the rest of the group. “So this is what a party for the dead looks like.”

“Not much of a party so much as it is just a time to come together,” Murphy corrected her. “And it’s a good thing Clara’s hosting this for us. I figured we all needed it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this show on the road,” Ismelda finally said. “Is there anything we can do besides just…” She gestured around the room. “Eat cake and drink Butterbeer and mope?”

“Well…” Clara glanced around at the group--it felt a lot like the Circle of Khanna all over again, except this time there was no one else to stand by her for support. The days when Ben and Merula flanked by her were long gone now, both of them now buried in their graves a few feet below. “We prepared a bonfire pit in the backyard, and enough sky lanterns for all of us.”

“Sky lanterns?” Tulip asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen one of those in so long. They’re part of the ceremony, right?”

“Of course,” Clara nodded. “They’re an integral part, so to say.”

“Nothing’s ever been the same since, well…” Skye glanced awkwardly at the group around her. “I mean, I’m not one to go all mushy but...I can’t imagine all of us losing people we care about so much. And all of you are great people in some way--”

She was suddenly cut off by Penny embracing her in a hug, which Skye returned hesitantly, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder.

“The people who love us never really leave us,” Barnaby piped up then. “I remembered how bad I felt when Rowan died...and then I thought I would lose Clara too when she left for China. But time taught me that they’ll always be here with us no matter where they are. Bright souls will shine like bright stars in the sky, now and forever. I found a lot of comfort in looking at the stars every night.”

These words brought a scarlet dust to Clara’s cheeks, and she smiled at him ruefully as she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Whether that was a vow intended for their wedding or not, she would never know, but it was enough for her to make her melt on the spot.

“You’re right,” Bill nodded thoughtfully at Barnaby’s words, taking Fleur’s hand and squeezing it tight. “The stars provide comfort for those who need it most. It’s really in the darkness where we can find the light.”

At this, Andre gave Orion a pointed look, and Orion just shrugged it off, nodding at Bill.

“I suppose there’s really no use in waiting any longer,” Clara eventually said--the sun was just beginning to set, and the group was getting much too large to accommodate indoors. “Let’s all head outside to the backyard. Barnaby, can you lead them? I have...something to collect from upstairs.”

Barnaby nodded at his fiancee, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Of course, my unicorn.” He then motioned to the rest of the group to follow him. “Come on outside, everyone.”

As everyone filed out, Clara headed towards the stairs and began to ascend two steps a time--the moment she reached the landing she wasted no time in heading to her bedroom and opening the door to her closet. Peering into the mass of fabrics, her eyes landed at the bottom of the cabinet, where a single dagger laid in its black sheath lined with golden dragons, laced through the leather belt she had to wear in her days at the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.

To most, it seemed like a simple ornate dagger, most likely an article of decorum worn by royals in important ceremonies. With a polished ruby pommel at the end of a leather grip hilt, and a few engravings on the blade, it looked insignificant, almost ordinary. But to those who served in the task force it meant so much more--it was a weapon she had used in the fight against the Japanese dark wizards on more than one occasion. Where magic failed, the dagger had helped her lay many a blow on those too fast to hit with a spell, those who resisted the effects of magic in ways she would never know. She fought along those who had also given their life for the cause, fought with the same blade she held now--never a day went by when she didn’t think of them. Some survived, some died, and all for a united cause.

She honoured so many of the unknown dead with this knife strapped to her side. It only seemed fitting that she did it now, too.

“Clara? You coming?”

Clara turned around just as she looped the belt around her waist--standing at the doorway to her room was her little sister, head tilted in intrigue and eyes shining in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Clara adjusted the belt over her clothes and walked over to little Em. “I was just...getting this dagger. Custom to wear it for funerals when I was working with the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.”

“Ah.” Little Em nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“No need to apologize.”

It had been much too long since Clara last saw her little sister, her little Em--four months since the end of the Battle where they fought together but not at each other’s side, never getting to see each other after the dust had settled over the ruins and the wounds had all but healed in their natural time. What once were two young children who bonded in a sole promise to protect each other within the walls of Hogwarts were now two women who had no idea how to shield each other from the other side of the world. It was only a miracle that they hadn’t lost the other to the perils of the world turned upside down by none other than Voldemort himself. Moments like these between two sisters bound by blood were far and few in between since then.

“I’ve missed you so much, Clara,” little Em finally admitted. “I was worried about Jacob in the fight but when I heard you were there at Hogwarts too…”

“I thought I’d never see you again, either. I wasn’t sure if I was able to make it out of the war alive,” Clara mumbled. “How, though?”

“Stuck close with Diego. It helps to have a strong dueller at your side,” little Em said. “And you?”

“I was with Tonks at first, but when she was defeated I had to hold my own,” Clara replied. “It wasn’t easy to feel that drive to fight after seeing a casualty right in front of your eyes, but I’ve had enough practice.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep suffering, Clara. I know why you joined the task force in China, but...promise me that at the end of all of this you’ll find some peace and happiness,” little Em pleaded. “All your life you’ve been fighting, and I understand it was for a cause. Just...I don’t want you to break under all the pressure. You have so many people who worry about you, and it would break my heart to find that you’ll never find happiness again at the end of the day.”

“Em.” Clara turned to face her sister now, a small smile on her face. “All I want is to make you happy, to fight for your happiness and safety every day. Knowing that you’re here and you’re happy and safe is enough for me to feel happy and safe.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Little Em smiled, a brief second of relief, before taking her sister’s hand and leading her out of her room. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! - A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 3

FF.net link - AO3 link

Illumi woke up to shouting. No matter how often this happened, it would startle him each and every time, and prompted him to jump out of bed and try to locate the source of commotion. After he brushed his hair messily out of his face, he approached the dining room. He leaned against the doorframe, peeking into the large room. His mother was seated in her usual spot at the large table, clutching her hands over her mouth. On the opposite side, Illumis younger brother had pushed his chair away, standing up to gesture and shout wildly at his mother.

“I am not a little kid! No one else gets their ~technology privileges~ revoked! Just admit that you’re too bad of a mother to properly keep me under the control you so badly want!” His voice was already starting to crack under the strain. Illumi thought about interfering, though the curiosity of observing how his mother would try to keep the situation under control won him over.

Kikyo Zoldyck was the perfect matriarch, ruling over the English estate with an iron grip, while her Husband was either in their Japanese estate for business matters, or on ‘hunting trips’ with his father. She always insisted on perfect presentation of herself and her children, Illumi wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her repeat one outfit combination. It was a shame that the medical sunglasses she had to wear at all times ruined the harmony of her outfits almost all times. Because not even the perfect matriarch can avoid medical problems. Thus, Kikyo had to learn how to properly treat her oversensitive eyes, taking most of her eyesight with it. On top of that, her immune system seemed to weaken with each passing day. Illumi, as the eldest child, got to investigate some of her medical records to ensure her safety in case of an emergency. He had learned how to dress her wounds that would re-open frequently, how to apply eyedrops in case she wasn’t able to, and which medication was for which ailment.

Illumi recognized the exhaustion that was quickly overtaking his mother, the way her face had been drained of all colour, and her entire body seemed to shake under the tension. He was about to intervene before her conditioned worsened, when she spoke up again, “I just want to do what is best for you! It will be good for you to have a break from all that bad energy the computer gives you.”

“The only bad energy I get is from this fucking family!”

The swear echoed through the large room, and for a few seconds there was only silence as a mother confronted the reality of her precious son having entered yet another teenage rebellion. Illumi observed his mothers face closely, as he thought again about whether he should intervene or let her tend to her motherly duties herself.

It took a couple more seconds for Kikyo to stand up, straighten herself, and raise her voice, unshaking, unwavering. “You are going to your room this instance, young man. I will have your brother remove your computer from your room in half an hour.” Consequent, how surprising.

The young Zoldyck kicked against a table leg, before running out of Illumis field of view. The last thing he heard was “I am going to drink a hundred Energy drinks and puke on everything you love!”

With a sigh Kikyo sat back down in her chair and rested her face gently in the palms of her hands. Illumi took this silence as the best opportunity to enter the room and approached his mother's side.

"Mother, good morning."

"Oh, Illumi, what am I going to do?" She wailed again, as if this argument was the greatest tragedy to befall the family.

"He was such a good little boy just a few years ago. Now he swears, and yells, and that same twinkle of rage in his eyes, just like his father."

He is also my father, Illumi thought, though that minor detail didn't seem important to the conversation.

"I will take away his personal Computer after getting dressed."

"Illumi, you are such a good child for your mom, never disappoint her, alright?" She took his hand and pressed it firmly. The young man shuddered at the contact, it was so easy to forget how cold and thin her hands were, as if the bones and tendons could snap under any more pressure. He rested his free hand on top of hers, reassuring, comforting, he thought, having seen people do that in movies and shows. Real comfort and contact were of course a rarity in the Zoldyck family. After Killuas birth, Kikyo would pour all her overbearing love onto him, only to have it be rejected, repeating the process with slightly more success after Kallutos birth. The children would tolerate each other, though interaction was kept to the bare minimum. And though Illumi was sure that his parents were in love, at least to the extent that he understood what that meant, he could not recall the last time he witnessed them exchange any form of endearment.

"Of course, mother." With that, he broke the contact, and returned to his room. He traded his pyjamas for comfortable black slacks, and a loose white button down with light green roll-tabs. The eldest Zoldyck child took his time brushing his well-groomed black hair, fixed his collar, and gave himself a last look down in the mirror.

As he walked down the long hallway of the second floor of the mansion, he could already hear the loud music his younger brother was angrily blasting, considering if it were worth it to go back and grab earplugs.  Their mother was right, Killuas tantrums had picked up the last couple of years, and it only seemed to have gotten worse. Show dogs with bad temper get temporary Hormone chips implanted, he thought, I wonder if there is an equivalent for humans.

The door to Killuas room wore its signs of anger and emotions through patched-up holes and sloppy paint cover-ups. Illumi turned the doorknob, though he already expected it to be locked.

“Killu, open the door.”

The music turned louder, and Illumi scrunched his nose in frustration. “Killu.”

“Piss off!” The young boys voice strained against the loud music, barely reaching over the aggressive lyrics of a middle-aged man complaining about his life and whatever he deemed wrong with it.

Enough with the polite formalities, Illumi thought as he fumbled in his pockets for the master key he had been entrusted with a couple years prior. Effortlessly the lock clicked open, and the knob turned once more… But the door did not budge.

Another turn of the knob, push of the door, with just slightly more force, and a small gap formed for just a second.

“Are you leaning against the door?” In fact, Killua forced his entire weight against the door. Illumi might have thought it was a cute attempt, if it hadn’t been directly intervening with his goals. So, he gave a more hearted push, which forced the door to open wider before it snapped shut again.

“Just leave me alone!”

“I will leave you alone once I have confiscated your Computer. This is your last chance to behave and let me in.”

“I’m going to set all your ugly new fabric on fire!”

Illumi sighed in frustration, before he pushed harder against the door in a swift motion, forcing it open despite Killuas best efforts to push against it. Quickly the young boy jumped in front of his computer, arms spread as a last-ditch barrier. Illumi approached slowly, his head tilted slightly to the side. “Killu, you misbehaved and now you have to accept the consequences. This is going to be a good lesson for you, you can spend your time being more productive.”

Killua straightened his back and returned his older brothers emotionless stare. “You don’t know what’s good for me! No one here does!”

“You don’t know what’s good for yourself either, you are a child. In a couple of years, when you lead the company, you’ll be very thankful to me for this.” Without much of an effort, he shoved his younger brother aside, and started to unplug the computers various wires. Almost immediately after he had been pushed away, Killua started grabbing and punching at his brother’s hands and arms in a vain effort to stop him. “Illumi, please, don’t!” His voice started to crack and break under the pressure it has already been under the entire morning. “Can you just for once not do whatever the hell mom tells you to do, and actually help me? Please?”

Illumi lifted the tower of the computer and straightened his back, facing his brother again. A surprisingly gentle smiled creeped up his lips.

“Killu, I am helping you. And your future. And the future of the Zoldyck family.” He started to turn to the door and leave, though not before he could hear Killua scream out in frustration,

“I hate you, you fucking lap-dog!”

But of course, Illumi knew that wasn’t true. Killua couldn’t hate him. They were brothers, and there is nothing that could sever a bond like that. Even after Killua had already set fire to his brother’s fabric stock before. Even though the times he would tell him he hates him started to outweigh the times he said he loved him. Even now, Illumi having taken away something that seemed so absurdly important to Killua, he was sure his little brother could never truly despise him.

As is with everything that the children weren't supposed to have, the Computer tower got locked away inside Silva Zoldycks study. Illumi couldn't place the feeling, but something felt off about no longer having this rule apply to him, not only because there was never any reason to punish him this way, but also because he had access to this otherwise off-limits area.

Fucking Lap-dog.

The grandfather clock in the entrance hall of the mansion struck 9 am. Technically he was still on schedule, Illumi didn't want to risk any more distractions that could make him late. He grabbed the neatly packed black suitcase and leather bag from his room, double checking if he had packed all of his samples, extra fabrics, and the likes, before returning to the dining room.

Kikyo had restored her makeup from any flaws the earlier breakdown had caused. She idly reviewed articles that third-party journalists had send in, in the hopes that they might make it into the next issue of the highly appraised fashion magazine. Her protective black eyewear had been gently pushed down the slope of her nose, revealing the stinging red, bloodshot eyes underneath.

“Mother, I am leaving for the airport shortly.” He kept his voice low while he slowly approached her side. Kikyo discarded the article she was holding into one of the neat piles she had made, presumably one pile for rejected articles, one for second review, before she faced her son.

“How long are you going to be away for, again?” It almost sounded accusatory.

“About four to five days, depending on the flight availability, and if I can make new clients after the show.”

“Try to make it four days, I need you back here to handle some interviews for the September Issue.”

Illumi hated being on a tight schedule. Though he was good at working under pressure, he still did not like it. “Can’t Milluki tr- “

“Milluki is extremely busy editing, Illumi. You shouldn’t try to push your work onto your brother like that, just because you want to have a longer vacation.”

It’s not a vacation, it’s a reveal of a personal collection that I earn my own money with and make independent clients at and that I worked day and night on and also-

“I will do my best to be home as soon as possible, mother.”

“Good. Try to represent our family well at the show.” And with that, Kikyo picked another article from the large stack, seemingly satisfied with the parting conversation.

Illumi grabbed his bags and made his way towards the entrance hall. A chauffeur already stood ready to drive him to the airport, and from a glance to the clock he knew his schedule was still intact. In his head he marked off his to-do list, double and triple checking if he had gotten everything he needed. Tickets, wallet, samples, customary gi- where is it? Hastily he started rummaging through the leather bag.

“Looking for something?” Killua appeared in the doorway behind him, carelessly throwing a small plastic package from one hand to the other. “Since when do you like red liquorice?”

Illumi scanned the package, relieved when he spotted the red ribbon still neatly tied around it. “It’s not for me.”

“You’re buying candy for your clown-friend?” Killua scoffed.

“He’s not my friend, and not a clown.” Illumi tilted his head as he blankly stared Killua down. “Can you give that back to me now? It is just a customary gift.”

“If you give me my computer back, you’ll get the clowns candy back.”

The air turned cool as Illumi slowly approached his younger brother, head tilting from one side to the other, his voice kept low.

“Killu, you are not in the position to propose trades like that.” He rested a hand on his brothers’ shoulder, leaned down to whisper easily in his ear. “I did you a favour by not reminding mother of your phone. Don’t make me regret being kind to you.”

And as he felt his brother freeze under his touch, he grabbed the candy with ease, and turned back around.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Killu. Study good.”

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

 Hisoka lounged on his fainting couch, the midday sun coated his living room in a comfortable orange shine through his white balcony drapes. The temptation of a nap settled sweetly on his eyelids, still worn out from another night spent editing and releasing a new video. The pressure of trying to stay on schedule during a fashion week wasn’t necessarily something Hisoka looked forward to, so he only hoped that this new drama video would keep his fans at bay for a couple of days, something about a doll-maker channel who seemed to have a god complex.

Just as he was about to give into the warm comfort of sleep, the vibration of his phone pulled him back.

" Bellisimo <3: Will arrive in about 10 minutes. "

"Hisoka: Yes, your majesty! "

Now wide awake, the artist stretched his tired limbs, and pulled himself from the couch. Once he had made his way to the kitchen, preparations for his friend’s arrival had to be made. Out from the fridge he took a small, colourful box, tied shut at the handle with an elegant black ribbon. Not room temperature, but not cold out of the fridge either. Neatly, he placed a white porcelain plate and a cake fork on the kitchen island. The last step, of course, was to boil water and wait.

Waiting wasn't one of Hisokas specialties though. He paced around the apartment like a mad animal in a zoo, only stopping once in a while to re-arrange knickknacks on shelves and desks. The anticipation tingled in his fingertips.

The sound of a car coming to a hold. Hisoka grabbed the bag of black tea and dropped it in the water.

The snap of multiple car doors. He slowly poured the fresh tea into a clean white cup and placed it next to the plate.

 Ding ♪

 There was no need to even ask who it was over the intercom, all he needed to do was activate the buzzer for the main door and linger at the apartment door for just a couple more seconds. He listened to the footsteps ascending the stairs. Only one pair; how rude to make your Chauffeur wait.

 Knock Knock

Hisoka swung the door enthusiastically open, the excitement to see the other almost too much to handle.

Blank, dark eyes greeted him. Illumis hair was, as usual, combed to a silky perfection. Hisoka was just a couple of centimetres taller than him, but he still felt an urge to tower over the other, to hunt him into a corner like small prey.

But instead he stepped aside, gave the other one enough room to enter the apartment. This last test of patience had become practiced, but never seemed to get easier. He wanted to greet and touch and release the tension tugging at all his muscles and nerves-

But not before Illumi has settled in. That was the rule.

So, he waited and watched as the other one dropped a leather brief case next to the kitchen island, and seated himself in front of the table set. Gracefully Illumi lifted the cup of tea to his lips, and he took a small sip, eyes closed and composed.

Full of expectation Hisoka leaned closer towards his visitor, who in turned tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, opening the dark void to his eyes once more.

"Acceptable."

Immediately Hisoka lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Illumi. "It's so nice to have you back, darling! Is the flavour alright? I bought it from a store in Florence and they promised it would be up to British taste."

"It is tolerable- Hisoka let go before I burn your face with this." Illumi struggled his way out of the embrace and pulled the wrinkles out of his shirt. "But next time you will have to let the tea sit longer in the water before serving, so that the flavour can fully develop."

“The day I make the perfect tea for you, I deserve a wild celebration.” The makeup artist waved his hand in a celebratory gesture and took a seat next to his friend-who-doesn’t-call-him-friend. “You hungry?”

Illumi bend over the table and tugged at the ribbon that kept the colourful box at the centre of the table closed. The folds of the box came undone to reveal a beautiful chocolate roll cake, with white-chocolate flower décor neatly placed on top. Hisoka held out a knife for him to take, and the treat was cut into in one smooth motion. A last test of approval.

Hisoka watched closely as Illumi took the first bite. The way his eyes closed as soon as the fork came to his lips. The almost-unnoticeable roll of his head in consideration. How he bopped his fork up and down. Everything about Illumi Zoldyck screamed grace and life and anticipation for every passing second. And in this moment, he was all his.

“It’s very good.”

“I would have made cake myself, but I didn’t feel like poisoning you, my dear.”

“Appreciated. I have a gift for you, as thanks for your hospitality.” Illumi bend down and grabbed his leather bag. While he shuffled around in it, Hisoka lured over his shoulder, with the smile of an excited child on Christmas morning. “Continue breathing down my neck and you won’t get anything.”

Not wanting to risk missing out on the oh-so-rare show of affection Illumi promised, he leaned back. “Do you want me to pretend to be coy and not want your gift, or can I just greedily rip it from your hands?”

The black-haired man turned around, and presented a small plastic package, tied shut with a red ribbon. It took less than a second to recognize what it was.

“Just take it. You mentioned once that you like it, and you’ve significantly improved at being a host for these meetings.”

Hisoka took the present from the others hands, far more gentle than necessary, and he snickered. “This is the strangest friendship I’ve been a part of.”

“We are not friends.” Ouch.

“This is the strangest... partnership?”

Illumi rolled his eyes, “If you want to call it that. But if you tag me in a video again as your ‘partner’ again, you’ll never see me again. I don’t need more congratulatory-slash-death-threat letters.”

“Fair enough!” Hisoka jumped off his chair and circled around the other one. “But mentioning videos, how about we start recording for our collab? I am practically dying to finally try on my new suit.”

Illumi sighed, brushed some stray hairs behind his ear, and dug through his leather bag again, only this time to retrieve a neatly folded, string-tied package. “Id suggest wearing a plain black shirt under the jacket.”

Hisoka grinned, “What about- “

“You are going to wear a shirt under it.” Ouch, too fast.

Without another word, he took the clothes from Illumi, and disappeared into his bedroom. As he ripped at the neat packaging, he tried to think of a snarky way to make fun of this overly neat way to transport clothing. But all those thoughts vanished when he actually held the clothes in his hands, gentle fingertips that ran over firm fabric and neat seams. The pictures in the email didn’t give this piece the justice it deserved. The different coloured card-suits didn’t stand out too harshly against the white jeans fabric but were defined enough to be recognized for what they are.

And once he pulled the fabric on his body, corrected the collar of the jacket, and stretched a bit to get a feel… He was mesmerized. The mirror fixed to his closet door couldn’t even capture the feeling in his chest that threatened to punch out his sternum.

Hisoka practically sprinted back into the open kitchen and struck rapid poses. “Do I look as good as how I feel, darling?”

“I told you to wear a shirt, maggot.”  

[asa-liz]

Laytontober day 20

Crossover

Professor Layton x UNDERTALE

This was the first chapter for another abandoned project. I fixed it a little to post it here.

"...fessa."

 His back was touching the ground, his hands felt something soft. Plants. It smelled like flowers. It was humid and fresh, but not cold.

"Professor!" He was now getting aware of a a couple of hands pressing his arm, softly but firmly, their movement became faster, while the familiar voice repeated with urgency now. "Professor!"

He finally separated his eyelids, they felt heavy, and his eyes took some time to adjust to the pale light when he finally opened them, thought he knew who's face he would find, anticipating a worried expression.

"Luke, I am okay." He hurried to say calmly, "How are you?" He recalled now, they have fallen from somewhere.

"I'm fine, Professor. But you were unconscious after we fell."

"We fell... where?" He expressed his thoughts aloud while waking up, and making sure his hat was on place.

They exchanged some words, and seeing climbing was not an option, they decided to walk the path in front of them. Layton remained clam to avoid worrying his younger companion, as usual.

There was enough light in the shadows, despite the sunlight not entering through the ceiling. The place seemed like some sort of ancient temple, so the archeologist couldn't feel but fascinated, seeing symbols he had never seen before.

In the middle of a little patch of grass, a flower appeared from the soil, startling the two visitors. And, even more confusing, it talked.

"Howdy, you are new in the underground, aren’t' cha?" The flower said with a pitch voice, "Don't worry, ol' Flowey is here to show you how things work ..." It winked an eye. Yes, it had a face.

Luke hid behind his mentor, who also felt uneasy with the excessive sugary tone the creature used. But he was a gentleman; he would not ignore someone greeting them.

Layton tried cautiously:

"Indeed..." Sir? Mister? How did Luke talk to animals? But this was (or pretended to be?) a flower. "We are new to this place, and we are quite lost. Can you tell us if we are heading towards an exit?"

 "You want to leave so soon? But first I must show you how to move around..."

 They both felt something strange, the color around them seemed to change slightly, and in front of them both, two little heart-shaped lights appeared.

"What's this?"

"Those are your SOULS. The culmination of your beings." The creature continued. Luke held his arm a little tighter.

 "I'm afraid we don't have the time." Layton didn’t like how things were going, while he wasn't completely sure why, the creature seemed hostile.

 And it noticed that they noticed, his face, along with his expression, distorted into something scarier, sharp teeth and eyes with white cat like pupils.

"You know what's going on right?" Said while pointing some sort of white bullets against the bright shapes he earlier named as their ‘souls’, his face showing an unsettling, twisted smile. "Die." It sentenced.

 The strange objects with bullet shape were surrounding them, making the protective gesture from the professor, who was trying to cover Luke, uselessly.

 "Professor..." Luke murmured, unable to hide his fear. His mentor was unable to say anything to calm him, the situation was confusing.

 Suddenly, blue flames went towards the flower-creature, who complained and hid. The bullets, along with their souls, were no longer visible.

 "What a horrible creature..." Said a big humanoid creature, who approached them from the shadows. "I am Toriel, caretaker of the RUINS..." She introduced herself.  Now in the light, they could see some goat-like features, but she also had fangs. Her eyes were red, and her fur white. Two little horns crowned her head. She smiled warmly at Luke, who was closer to her, but Layton noticed she looked surprised to see him.

 "Professor Hershel Layton, pleased to meet you." He decided he couldn’t forget his manners.

"Luke Triton, his apprentice." He joined.

"I pass here often to see if any human has fallen..." Was it something common, then?  "It has been a long time since the last one fell."

"Forgive me if my question is indiscrete, but, what kind of creature are you?" He was a little skeptical, but she referred to them as humans, so that suggested they were, at least, uncommon, or not from this place.

"We are monsters; we have been sealed inside a barrier long ago... Please accompany to my home, we can talk there."

Not seeing to much to do, they accepted her invitation. She recommended them to stay close, as other monsters won’t be friendly. Thought Layton was still careful, in case this creature was deceiving them like the other one (Though his intuition said they could trust her)

 The ruins were fascinating. Both Layton and Luke felt a little confortable with the simple puzzles, as they gave them a sense of familiarity.

Also, as an archeologist Layton was fascinated with the place itself, it appeared to be an entire ancient underground city, still occupied.

 Toriel prepared a ‘butterscotch-cinnamon’ pie for them, and despite the size of the slice, Luke repeated his portion. She offered them to stay and sleep, and they accepted, being unfamiliar with their surroundings. The kid's room with old toys and different sizes of shoes made Layton uncomfortable, and he decided he would chat with their host, intuition or not, he should watch after him.

 The house was cozy, at it seemed more people used to leave here.

He found her on the living room, sat next to the fireplace, reading.

"You can't sleep?" Toriel asked him kindly, lifting her eyes from the book she was reading, wearing now a pair of glasses.

"Not yet. If you don't mind, Miss..." She nodded, "Miss Toriel, can I ask you a few questions about this place now?" Layton had noticed she avoided giving details to Luke.

 She left the book over her lap, and gently put her glasses over it. Then she gestured towards the other couch. Layton sat, and the size of it made him feel small.

"Is the child sleep?"

"Yes... I hope I'm not being indiscrete, but I noticed my presence surprised you, but not Luke's..."

 She looked at him entirely before answering, "Yes. I was quite shocked, it has been years since I have seen an adult human, always children fell here..." her expression turned sad, and Layton couldn't feel safe yet, after seeing the collection of shoes… with no trace of other children, but... for some reason he felt sympathy for this person, while still feeling reluctant to accept she was, indeed, a monster, no matter he had faced mysteries in the past.

She seemed to notice his worry, and said "Outside the RUINS... the rest of the UNDERGROUND is dangerous for humans. I tried to keep the others here, but eventually they left... and found their end."

"They...died?" He asked with certain horror.

She seemed to meditate for a moment, her expression changed while she was silent, sadness, seriousness, anger too perhaps, before she told him:

"I usually don't speak too much about this with the children... Prhaps thinking they are too young to understand…I don't see a problem to speak with you. The child seems fond of you... What is he? Your child? Your brother? Nephew? Oh, he called you professor... Your student?"

 "That would be the closest. It would be my duty to keep him safe while his parents are not around."

"Why are you here?" Her tone was serious.

"We don't remember how we ended up here."

"You sound sincere." The conversation was going fast.

"Why would I lie?" He wasn't quite sure where she was going.

"Children usually avoid the subject, or are vague about their reasons... after all, why would they climb Mt Ebott, where people are said to disappear..."

Layton meditated at her words for a moment.

"So, the children that came here before had been escaping from something..."

 "That always seemed to be the case. But eventually they wanted to leave... the RUINS perhaps aren't a good place for them.

But still... I couldn't force them to stay." Her eyes showed guilt and sadness.

"Why it's dangerous to leave? And, you mentioned something about a barrier earlier?"

"Yes... If you are not tired, I will tell you the entire story."

"Please."

He heard her spoke about an old war, the barrier, the first fallen human, who had a tragic ending along with her own son. And about how the king, whose queen she had been, was the one collecting SOULS to break the barrier.

Finally he decided to have some sleep. Toriel promised to show them the exit to the ruins tomorrow.

○○○

"Once you cross this door you will leave the ruins... and the door won't open again."

Layton was worried about it, thoug.

"I asked you before, but, is there a way of leaving without..."

Her expression saddened. "I don't know any other way..." She had told him they might need to kill king Asgore. "Oh, take this with you." She offered them two scarves and two pair of gloves, as well as two slices of pie. She had explained them that monster food would heal them if they got hurt.

"Thank you." Layton told her.

"Thank you, Miss Toriel." Luke added, too. She smiled warmly at him.

"Goodbye."

She left them to cross the door. Layton had the feeling that he had seen the flower prying. They would see how to deal with it in time.

When they finally crossed the door, the light, from what should be the ceiling of the cave, almost seemed as it was from the sun.

They put on the gloves and scarves after entering a snowy path surrounded by forest.

[emospritelet]

Okay, since @thatravenclawbitch‘s post of dishevelled post-coital Gold made me pant (and gave me an idea), have a snippet of vampire!Gold trying to get out of the circle Belle trapped him in.

Gold watched her silently for a moment, fingertips tapping against the barrier between them.  Belle’s throat was still exposed, soft white skin marked red in patches from the pressure of his mouth, inviting him to take her in his arms and bite down.  The thought of it made him harden, his mouth watering, and he tamped down the desire that flared to life inside him.  Belle was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, as though she was afraid.  Or aroused.  It was exhilarating, but giving in to his desires was exactly how he had ended up trapped in a circle of her casting, so he simply stared at her, unblinking.  The loud buzz of her phone broke the tense silence between them, and he pushed back from the edge of the circle a little as Belle hissed in frustration and stepped away, reaching for her bag.  She pulled out the phone as it buzzed urgently, and rolled her eyes as she answered.

“Hey,” she said.  “It worked.”

The person on the other end said something that Gold couldn’t make out, and Belle sighed.

“I’m fine,” she said insistently.  “The circle’s unbroken, it’s all under control.”

Oh, is it indeed?

“Okay, but keep your cool,” she said then.  “See you in five.”

She flicked at the phone with her thumb, ending the call, and looked across at him with those wide blue eyes.

“Mulan and Aurora are coming over,” she said.  “You might want to get dressed.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, thank you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed heavily and crossed to where she had dropped her clothes.  She pulled the skirt up over her hips beneath the bathrobe, and then turned her back to him as she put on the bra.

“Modesty at this late hour?” he drawled.  “I don’t know why you’re bothering.  I’ve already seen everything.  I even know how you taste, Miss French.”

Belle ignored him, fastening the bra and tugging on the shirt.  He regretted not ripping it from her, ruining it as he had her underwear.  She turned back to him as she fastened the last of the buttons, and took a deep breath.

“You haven’t given me an answer,” she said.  “Do we have a deal or not?  Information, in return for my blood.”

Gold looked her over, raising an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked.  “You’re surely not offering yourself to me to feed on.  Even you wouldn’t be that reckless.  Unless you really do have a death wish.”

Belle swallowed and took a step back, meeting his eyes.

“Of course not,” she said.  “Aurora’s a nurse.  She’s more than capable of drawing a little blood from me in nice, safe, clinical conditions.”

Gold let out a low chuckle.

“Oh, nice, safe and clinical is how I like to take all my meals,” he said sarcastically.  “Please.  Offer me something I might actually be interested in.”

Belle blushed a little, raising her chin.

“I - thought your kind needed blood to live,” she said stiffly.  “I was just—”

“My kind?”  He curled his lip.  “A little bigoted, aren’t we?”

Her blush deepened.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she protested.  “I - I just meant that I’ve read a lot, and - and I have my theories, and the encounters I’ve had with other vampires have supported most of my findings, that’s all!”

Gold leaned forward again, hands splayed against the barrier, and gave her his most predatory smile.

“What’s the matter?” he said softly.  “Am I not doing what your textbooks promised?”

“My textbooks, as you call them, offer little in the way of guidance,” she said stiffly.  “Other than to warn me to stay away from you.”

“And yet,” he whispered.  “Here you are.  Quite the curious little thing, aren’t you?”

Belle sighed, putting her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth just as the doorbell buzzed.  She glanced towards the hallway, and shot him a look.

“Get dressed,” she said bluntly, and went out.

Gold started to feel his way around the circle, trying in vain to find a chink, a gap.  The sound of feet on the stairs and whispered conversation outside in the corridor made him stop, and he braced his hands against the barrier, facing the door.  Belle’s friends pushed into the room, the dark-haired Mulan leading in a young woman with pale skin and light brown hair, who clung to Mulan’s arm and squeaked as she took in the sight of him.

“There,” said Belle, a little breathlessly from behind them.  “Told you.”

“You missed out the part where he was naked,” said Mulan flatly.

“I - I told him to get dressed,” muttered Belle, blushing again.

Gold smiled, stretching languidly.  Mulan looked unimpressed, and the other woman - Aurora? - closed her eyes.

“Ashamed of me?” he asked lazily.  “When I have the scent of your pleasure all over?”

He drew the first two fingers of his hand across his nose, inhaling deeply, and Belle closed her eyes, looking mortified.  Mulan rounded on her.

“You slept with him?”

“I - well, I thought it would be the easiest way to get him inside the circle,” said Belle lamely.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna put your bed in the middle of it,” said Mulan.  “You were planning on revealing this genius part of the plan when, exactly?”

Gold tutted, shaking his head.

“Don’t want your friends knowing about your monster kink?” he said snidely.  “I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow at Mulan, letting a sly grin tug his mouth up at one corner.

“She likes it rough, by the way,” he added.

“Shut up!” snapped Belle and Mulan as one, and he whistled.

“Presumably we can’t leave him in there forever,” said Aurora.  “So - what do we do?”

“The amulet should keep us safe,” said Mulan, and Belle winced.

“Doesn’t work,” she said gloomily, and the other two stared at her.

“It doesn’t work?” repeated Mulan.  “But - but it’s worked before!”

“Screw vampires a lot, do you?” enquired Gold.  “I wasn’t wrong about the monster kink.”

“Shut up!”

They all glared at him, and he shook his head sadly.

“Used for sexual gratification and cast aside,” he sighed.  “I’m hurt.”

“You will be if you don’t stop talking,” said Mulan curtly.  “Belle, if the amulet doesn’t work, we can’t let him out of there.  He’ll kill us.”

“I don’t think so,” said Belle.  “I think I can make a deal with him.”

“You can’t make deals with these creatures!”

“Well, I see the bigotry runs deep in this group,” remarked Gold.  “I was as human as each of you, once.”

“But no longer,” said Mulan, stepping closer.  “I’m guessing that if you got out of there you’d hunt us down and drain us dry, right?”

Gold smiled, hunching his shoulders a little as he leaned forward.

“You seem a little too bitter for my tastes, dear,” he said snidely.  “What’s the matter?  Lose someone you love?”

Mulan’s eyes widened, her face a mask of fury, and she lunged towards him before Belle and Aurora could drag her back from the edge of the circle.  Gold chuckled, leaning against the barrier and letting his teeth show.

“See, that impulsiveness is just what I want,” he purred.  “You have a lot of anger there.  Feel free to throw yourself in my direction again.  It’s been too long since I had a decent meal.”

She glared at him, but Aurora stroked her hair, whispering something in her ear, and she took a deep breath, calming herself.  Gold let his smile widen.

“Belle,” said Mulan, her voice shaking a little.  “Is there anything else you can use to subdue this - creature?”

“I may have something in the library,” said Belle, not taking her eyes from his.  “I’m not sure.  I could use some help going through the boxes.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Aurora, and Belle shook her head.

“I think it would be best if Mulan gets out of here for five minutes,” she said.  “Can you stay and keep an eye on him?  You’re perfectly safe, he can’t get out.”

“O-okay,” said Aurora, sounding unsure of herself.

Gold watched as Belle and Mulan backed out of the room, then closed his eyes for a moment, drawing the rage and darkness deep within, letting the more dangerous part of himself out to play.  That part of him was soothing, fascinating, almost hypnotic, and he smiled, his eyes soft as they met hers.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.  “Your girlfriend isn’t wrong to be wary of me, in the circumstances, but I mean you no harm.”

She eyed him, uncertainty warring with curiosity, and Gold pressed a hand to his heart.

“Would it make you feel more comfortable if I was dressed?” he asked.

She nodded, and he sank down onto his heels, reaching out to grasp the leg of his pants and pull them towards him. ��Aurora cast her eyes down as he drew on the underwear, followed by the pants, tugging them up over his hips and fastening the zipper.

“I’ll need you to pass my shirt,” he said gently.

She looked at him sharply, and he gestured to the pile of silk that sat just outside the edge of the circle.  She stepped closer, not taking her eyes off him as she bent down to pick it up, and tossed it to him.  Gold snagged it out of the air, pulling on the shirt, his hands whispering through the sleeves.  He buttoned it, leaving the top three undone and tucking the shirt into his pants as he licked his lips.  He picked up his waistcoat, shrugging it on and fastening that, and plucked his gold cufflinks from his pocket.  Aurora was watching him, and he kept his eyes on hers as fastened his cuffs.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” he said.  “Pale skin and perfect lips.  She rode side-saddle in velvet skirts and long gloves.  Beautiful.”

“How - how long ago?” she asked.

“Oh, a long time,” he sighed.  “I can’t recall.  The decades flow into one another.  And the centuries.  Time is a strange and brutal thing when you stand outside it.”

Aurora’s eyes widened with interest, and his smile grew.

“I’d appreciate it if you could pass my wine,” he added, nodding towards the door.  “I believe it’s in the kitchen.”

She walked out silently, and he let his smile grow a little.  Whatever tricks they might have to ensnare me, I can beat them.  It’s not over, Miss French.  Not by a long way.

Aurora returned with a glass of wine in her hand, and stopped two paces back from the edge of the circle.  Gold gave her an encouraging smile.

“Yes, that’s the one,” he said gently.  “I’d prefer it if you handed it to me, rather than threw it.  Is that alright?”

She opened and closed her mouth, looking uncertain.  Her pulse had quickened, and he could see the beat of it beneath the pale skin of her throat, the throb of blood that called to him.

“You could just set it down on the floor,” he said.  “Just push it inside the circle.  I can’t reach out, you see.”

She took a step closer, and he remained still, waiting on the inside edge of the chalk circle, his hands by his sides.  Aurora licked her lips, shuffling closer.  He could smell the scent of her in the air, warm and fragrant and ripe, and his fingers twitched a little.

“That’s it,” he whispered.  “Good girl.  Just a little closer...”

[tanyavvvvvvf-blog]

Guardian Novel Bonus Chapter Four, by Priest, finished on 07/30/2018-P4

(IIII)

When Zhao Yunlan calmed down from shocking, he still held that short candle in his hand, the flickering light was about pea size. He tried to move a little, shockingly found something unusual. His gaze moved down slowly on his right foot, he, sprained the right ankle.

As God KunLun's incarnation, after Zhao Yunlan regained the divine soul, he never got sick, he was invulnerable. He almost forgot what a mosquito bite looks like, sure didn't expect his ankle would be sprained at the South China Sea today!

He grined, found it interesting. He touched his ankle, looks like the bone was not injured. He carefully moved it for a while and stood up leaned against the wall. Immediatly, he found out that his hands and feet were heavy like they were weighed down, as if they weren't his own. KunLun's astonishing abilities of capable in crushing the Triple Realm and flying beyond the clouds weren't inside of him anymore.

Not only that, his watch - "Discriminator" stopped working. The remained half dozen of spells in his wallet became ordinary paper, showed no reaction at all. The long whip could not be summoned, even the blood-bounded Soul Suppression Amulet became a piece of tree bark, lying silently in his palm.

Zhao Yunlan rose up Snake Four's Life-Lamp, checking the surrounding. A scene of desolation and ruin showed in his eyes, the street lights were out, not even a flickering one, abandoned houses on both sides of the street, he can smell the floating dust in the air.

Was it a historical remain?

Limply walked for about two steps, he had to stop and poured out the sand in his shoes.  He felt some needle pain when he inhaled and exhaled, tightness in his heart, he suffered with shortness of breath and chest pain. He was very healthy when he was a mortal human, sure had no sign of above symptoms, was it because he forgot about the feeling of being a human?

He walked with his heavy body, looked around the street, no cellphone signals, he checked the time.

20:45.

He had some ham for dinner, but not enough to makeup his energy consumption. After sprained ankle, check pain, the human body recalled his memory of stomachache.

At this moment, "meow", Zhao Yunlan looked up, a black cat sleeked out from some dead tree branches, jumped onto the house. The cat gently stepped on the broken and tattered wall, its tail was held up high, elegant and graceful. So much like young Qing, when he was still a cub, when he was slim, when you could tell the differences between his neck and his waist, what a wonderful age.

Zhao Yunlan likes to amuse cats and dogs, he whistled to the cat, and when the cat turned around looking at him with green eyes, he saw a spell in its mouth. Not until he had a clear look, the world span. The cat was no longer there, the street was fasting twisted, Zhao Yunlan missed his foot, fell down on the ground, the right ankle was sprained again.

He cursed, and then he realized, he was back again at the very spot he woke up in the beginning.

Once again he supported himself on the wall, once again he stood up, he stepped out and he felt the sand he poured out was back in his shoes.

His eyes shrank slightly, finally figure out something, pulled out his cellphone, he checked the time again, it was 20:35.

He was back to 10 minutes ago!

Zhao Yunlan fast paced crossed the street, he pulled out his cellphone and counted the time. Ten minutes later, that black cat showed again, jumped onto the house in the same position. But this time, he didn't go near the cat, he observed in the dark corner.

The cat holding the spell in its mouth, lifted its paws, after it walked five steps, the dazzling spinning feel came back to Zhao Yunlan.

The same thing happened for two to three times, Zhao Yunlan gave up of standing up, those shoes were not easy to take off.

He got it, this presented world was like a looping single, for about 10 minutes long, limited space, and him, was stuck in this 10 minutes, repeatedly.

Zhao Yunlan rubbed the wall next to him, he recalled the bubbles when he and Shen Wei were torn apart.

Bubbles....... The looping time-trap.....

Suddenly, Zhao Yunlan supported himself to stand up again, once again he dumped the sand in his shoes. He ran through the ruined street. At the moment the cat showed, he held the candle in his mouth, with a few steps of run-up, he grasped on the edge of the house, stamped on the retained wall and jumped onto the roof, grabbed the frightened black cat, yanked the spell out of its month, and then turned back, straighted down to the ground. Before his feet touched the ground, he realized the time resetting point was coming close, he quickly lighted the spell with the Life-Lamp, the spell burned. Meanwhile, he heard something popped beside his ears, something cracked, the black cat in his hands vanished.

Zhao Yunlan stood firmly in a few steps, looked up and found that he had not been reset to the starting point. The street view in front of him was slightly different, one of the street lights was on, the air felt less dusty, the tree was not spiritless, although there were only a few more leaves, it showed life and energy.

He put out the dust on his clothes, "That's what it is. I thought it would be some unrevealed treasure. Turned out to be a big trouble."

As we all know, time is a linear, like a river flowing from the past towards the future, one person can't leap back and forth on his time line. Under the same dimension, the track of events won't be changed. 【Interpreter Notes：The writer wants to tell, destiny is written, fate is unshakeable. In the book, KunLun had to die to guard the barrier. Shen Wei had to die to bridge the reincarnation. These were all written in their destinies.】

Before KunLun's soul back to his body, Zhao Yunlan experienced something the same. He "leaped" back to 11 years ago, but that was not a real time travel. That time, God ShenNong planted a 11-year time-loop inside the snake-scale of NUWA . That time-loop was a mini-world moulded by ShenNong, an instance copy of the real world, but was not part of the real world, last time Zhao Yunlan had a quite trip in that time-loop. 【Interpreter Notes: NUWA, Goodness of Sky-patching, woman body with a snake tale. In ancient Chinese stories, she moulded human from mud. NUWA, ShenNong, and KunLun, these are all ancient gods in flooding era.】

When Snake Four passed that scale of NUWA to him, Zhao Yunlan stepped into that instance copy mini-world without knowing it. The timing in the instance copy ran to the end, was just to be reset to 11 years ago, so Zhao Yunlan who was inside that world, took a ride, flashed back to 11 years ago as well ...... until Shen Wei cleaved it from outside and pulled him back to reality.

The bubbles that torn him and Shen Wei apart must be the same thing as that 11-year instance copy mini-world, each of the bubbles was an endless loop with limited time frame.

It could be a 10 minutes loop with rough and shabby stage, or it could be a loop that need tens of thousands of years to get to the resetting point. It would be such an almost genuine, almost perfect mini- world.

So, it was not a divine object or magic key, it was a mistake. An experimental failure made by the ancient gods. They kept it sealed in the South China Sea. First, it was accidentally irritated by the trace of Ghost Lord, and then the barrier was intruded by a supreme monster-spirit, that was how this failure came to life.

Zhao Yunlan looked up at the street light, complained, "I knew it! You guys won't leave any legacy to me. You left me nothing but garbage to clean."

Cannot located Shen Wei's position, so it was not wise to expecting his to crack from outside. These tiny looping mini-world, can only be cracked from inside.

It was not a hard job, each loop had a connecting point with the reality, through this connection point, Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei were shipped in here. Find it, crack it, the loop would lose the dependence, then it would be destructed.

For instance, that 11-year loop had a connecting point too, that was the mysterious book named <Ancient bizarrerie>.

At that time, in the reality, Zhao Yunlan had one with him, in the loop there was another "one" too. As he walked into the loop, two identical <Ancient Bizarrerie> overlapped with each other, the loop and the reality were connected, the mirage crossed over into the reality.

At then, Zhao Yunlan was seeking what Shen Wei was hiding from him, he was pursuing the truth using that book, never thought about to destroy it. If he had burned the "book" the moment he found it in the loop, the karma in the loop would be deviated from the karma in the reality, the loop would be destructed, Shen Wei wouldn't need to save him from outside.

And if he had burned the "book" in the loop, when he came back to reality, the book would be still with him, not being left in the loop forever, waiting to be reset. 【Interpreter note: In Chapter 88-89，Zhao Yunlan went to the Hell to seek the story about the book, Shen Wei's brother attacked him, somehow triggered Zhao falling into the loop. He learned the truth about the book, and finally found out Shen Wei had contact with his father. He threw the book in the River Lethe - river in the Hell. But soon realized he didn't want to disrupt the reality, he went to buy the "book" again. And sneaked into the bedroom of the younger vision of him, hided it under the bed. Later, Shen Wei slashed the loop from outside and pulled him out.】

Here and now, these loops paved layer upon layer like bubbles. The image of Zhao Yunlan projected and reflected on them, every loop would replicate one item from him, to be the connecting points between the loop and the reality. They were the stopped watch, the useless spell, the downgraded Token of Soul Suppression, the long whip couldn't be summoned...... and even the super-nature power of his.

He would't know which could be the corresponding connection point in that loop, he had to watch and try, every time he destroyed one item in the loop, he would successfully destructed that loop, that item would still be available in the reality afterwards.

"So much trouble." Zhao Yunlan gasped, "Should have agreed with the written test, wouldn't need to come here and go through all these."

Freaking stupid Aquatic, he definitely wanted to have a feast of seafood when he leave here.

---- Continue w/ P5 ----

View in full on my wattpad: https://my.w.tt/0G7fXKu3pP

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 12

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

As expected, the warding took less than an hour. Crowley’s nap, on the other hand, took at least four hours. The first hour was him nestled into Aziraphale’s side, floating in that lovely space between awake and sleep while the angel read to him. Eventually, he’d drifted off fully and spent a solid three hours dead to the world.

Upon waking Crowley had of course tried to get closer to Aziraphale’s warmth. It felt like waking up underneath his heat lamp, but a thousand times better because he was wrapped up in the angel’s arms and surrounded by blankets soft as clouds. The only thing ruining the perfect moment was an insistent, subtle ache in his knees and back that was just enough to make him squirm. 

“Hello love, are you awake?” Aziraphale asked. There was a rustling of pages and the sound of leather against wood. Then Aziraphale was pulling him closer with both arms.  

“Mmph,” Crowley grumped, twisting his hips in an effort to get rid of the ache. “--time isss it?”

Aziraphale hummed, looking over to his pocket watch on the bedside table before rejoining Crowley on the bed. “A little after six. I wasn’t sure if you intended to sleep straight through until tomorrow morning or not, you seemed completely out.”

“My back woke me up,” Crowley grumped, finally flipping to his belly and tilting his hips up. That made his lower back feel better but put more stress on his knees. “I don’t think my corporation likes what the kid’s doing to it very much.”

“Poor thing,” Aziraphale cooed, rubbing his hands into the muscles just above Crowley’s arse. “Why don’t you get in the tub and have a nice long soak?”

Crowley nodded sleepily, pushing back into the quick massage. “Coffee?”

“Just the one cup, you know you can't have too much.” Crowley moaned pitifully but didn’t disagree. “Go on then and get in the bath. There should be some of those salts you like so much in the cupboard.”

Crowley sent the angel a rare soft smile and a small pursing of his lips. Totally not a kiss. He did not send the angel air-kisses. Aziraphale nearly glowed, making a furtive hand motion like the not-kiss had landed right on his cheek. Crowley was extremely glad no one was around to see his raging blush. To make things easier he quickly made his escape towards the bathroom, muttering about sappy behaviour and absurd angels. 

In the bathroom he busied himself drawing the bath and getting the mix of Epsom salts, bubbles, and scented oils exactly right. Crowley had learned to secrets of drawing the perfect bath back in Rome, from one of the girls at a brothel he’d been ordered to create. A classy joint, less likely to attract bad types, and the girls were all paid well and there of their own free will. The one who’d taught him, her name unfortunately gone from his mind, had eventually left to start her own shop in town. It made him smile as he dashed in the final few ingredients; a hint of sandalwood and jasmine oil. 

While Crowley lowered himself into the steaming water he heard the shop phone ringing. Not too surprising, since Aziraphale still popped back here now and then and had finally installed an answering machine. Most of the messages were from confused former patrons or booksellers looking to give the angel a tip on a rare book. So he wasn’t too concerned when he heard the ringing stop and the muffled sound of Aziraphale answering. No, Crowley was more concerned with the simply fantastic feeling of the steaming water (hotter than a human could survive) and how it was relaxing the pinching muscles in his back. With a relieved sigh, Crowley relaxed fully into the bath and tipped his head back, letting his mind float amongst the bubbles. 

“A.Z. Fell and Co., terribly sorry but we’re closed indefinitely.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he’d even answered the phone. Habit, most likely. Still he didn’t feel like dealing with any customers, or his bookseller contacts. After the day they’d had, he wanted to fix them both a warm drink then join Crowley in the bath. 

“Aziraphale?” A familiar voice crackled over the old phone line. The phone had been put in as soon as such things were available, by Crowley, and its performance was as would be expected by a more than 200-year-old piece of technology. 

“Anathema! So good to hear from you,” he said, his demeanour changing rapidly. “How are things with little Alfred and the girls?”

“Oh, good, good. He’s feeding well. Sleeps about as well as Lottie but what can you do?” Aziraphale hummed sympathetically, remembering the times when he and Crowley had watched Charlotte as an infant. “But that’s not what I’m calling about. You remember a while back, when you met Freddie? How I said I’d try some scrying, and looking into the future?”

It had been a hectic day, what with he and Crowley arguing that whole time. “I do recall something about that. But don’t worry yourself dear, it’s an awful lot of trouble.”

Anathema made a soft sound, like a laugh and a sigh. “No, it’s no trouble. I uh, I already did it actually. My mom was visiting and she helped me with the setup so things would be as clear as possible. Did you want to know what I saw?”

“Of course! If you’re even half as talented as your ancestor, I'm sure it will be most useful. Not that you aren’t--oh you know what I mean don’t you?” Aziraphale babbled, extremely excited to know anything about their baby.

“I get it. Is Crowley around? He might want to hear.” 

“Yes, but he just got in the bath. His back has been hurting, and we had a stressful day yesterday,” he explained. Anathema hummed in understanding. 

“I know. It wasn’t too clear but one of the first things I saw was you two at the book shop, which is why I called there. Anyway, most of it seemed pretty normal; I saw the colour you picked for the nursery, it’s nice. There was a general feeling of excitement, and Crowley looked less sick. You both seemed… stressed though. And there was just one moment I think I saw someone crying? But I couldn’t tell who, the connection was breaking up.”

Aziraphale frowned but forced himself to say something quickly as to not make to poor girl think she'd upset him. “Well, things have already been looking better for Crowley with the morning sickness, so I’m very glad it looks like we’ve seen the last of it. And isn’t the colour wonderful?” It was obvious he was avoiding the latter half of her vision.

“Aziraphale… have you and Crowley been alright?” she asked. Humans could be so direct sometimes, and often Aziraphale didn’t know what to do with it. “We haven’t heard much from you two since you dropped the girls off”

“Well, you know how things are. We had a good talk, but it’s been difficult sometimes. It’s a big change, not to mention some hooligans decided to vandalize the book shop--”

“I saw that!” Anathema shouted, forcing Aziraphale to hold the receiver away from his ear with a wince. “I saw broken glass, and red paint? I wasn’t sure… I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to tell you in time.”

Once she calmed down and the angel was able to once again hold the phone close, Aziraphale answered. “Don’t worry, we only found out about it this morning, so there probably wouldn’t have been enough time for you to warn us anyways. Besides, it was nothing we couldn’t handle, and it gave us the excuse to make a little trip to London to update our barriers.”

“Well, that’s good then, I guess.” In the background, Aziraphale could hear the happy laughter of Charlotte and Annabella, followed by a baby crying. “Oh shoot, they woke Fred up. I have to go but if I see anything else I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Of course, lovely to hear from you dear girl.” With a click and a dial tone, their conversation was over and Aziraphale was left standing in the bookshop proper. The scream of the kettle broke him out of his post-discussion thinking though, and he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be making drinks and joining Crowley in the tub.

“Bugger,” he mumbled, covering his ears and rushing into the kitchenette. As quickly as possible he took the kettle off the hob and set about making the drinks. The entire time he dwelled on what Anathema had been able to tell him about their future. Stress, crying? Those sounded ominous, though he was glad to hear she saw nothing immediately disastrous. 

“Annnnnngle!” Crowley called from upstairs. “I’m dying of dehydration up here!” 

“Coffee is a diuretic love!” Aziraphale called back, adding a full cup of water to the tea tray he was putting together. He carried it back through the bookshop, avoiding any and all books. Usually, he would have prepared things in the flat above the shop, but the kitchen had been mostly stripped bare when they moved. There had been many items, like his antique tea kettle, that Azirphale simply had to bring to the cottage. 

“Finally!” Crowley shouted from the bathtub. Aziraphale noted the pleasant scent and obscene amount of bubbles with a fond smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me for some bookseller.”

Aziraphale set the tray down on the counter and passed over Crowley’s coffee, then the water. “I could never forget about you dearest. Besides, that was Anathema calling, not one of my associates.” He wasn’t sure if he should tell Crowley everything right now, given the exhausting day. But, if Aziraphale had learned anything over the past few months, it was that if they were going to do this they had to be honest with each other.

“What did she want then?” Crowley asked, right on cue and just as Aziraphale had expected. The demon sat up and sipped his coffee, sneakily making space at the other end of the tub for Aziraphale if he so wished to join him. Which the angel did wish, most ardently. 

“Well you remember how she offered to try taking a peek at the future for us?” he asked as casually as possible. Crowley hummed in recognition. “Well, she just wanted to let us know that she saw a few things. Nothing major, though she did see something vague about the vandalism.”

Aziraphale focused on undressing, rather than worrying about Crowley getting upset. “She said your morning sickness is probably gone for good, and that there was a general feeling of excitement. A little bit of stress too, and maybe some…” he trailed off, finally naked and ready to get into the tub. He spared a glance toward Crowley and caught him looking both concerned, presumably, about the phone call, and interested in the angel’s naked form.

“Some what?” Crowley asked, eyes trained on Aziraphale as he sank into the water. The angel took a few seconds to get comfortable, arranging Crowley’s long, lanky legs so he had enough space. 

“She said we seemed, stressed. And that she saw someone--not necessarily one of us mind you because telling the future is tricky business as you know--”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted. “Gonna be honest you acting like this is stressing me out already. So if you could just get on with it?” 

“Yes, yes, sorry love. It really is nothing.” He took a deep settling breath. “Anathema said she saw someone crying.”

“Someone?”

“It would seem that even though she’s very persistent, Anathema doesn’t have Agnus’ keen eye for the future. That was all she said she could make out clearly.” Now that he’d said it Aziraphale felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t realized just how tense he’d gotten in the last few minutes. 

“OK. That’s OK. It could be anyone. Or even if it’s one of us it could be completely out of context,” Crowley said after a brief silence. “Jeeze I thought you were going to tell me she saw someone die or something.”

“Crowley! Don’t joke!” Aziraphale cried, sloshing the bathwater at he smacked the demon lightly on the calf. Crowley cackled and wiggled down into the bubbles, holding his coffee high enough to avoid the suds. 

“Sorry angel, sorry! M’just glad it’s not all doom and gloom, you know?” It was unlike Crowley to be the one with a positive outlook, which convinced Aziraphale further that he was making mountains out of molehills. “And I’m not going to lie, I’m frankly thrilled to be rid of that blasted morning sickness.”

Finally, Aziraphale felt like he could relax again. The bookshop flat’s tub had been one of his favourite things while living here, and he’d definitely missed its decadence. With the added benefits of hot tea and Crowley’s excellent company, things were quickly turning into a nearly perfect night. 

“Me too. You were such a sourpuss when you weren’t feeling well.”

“S-sour--? How dare you call the uh, the bearer of your child a sourpuss?!” Crowley sputtered, slipping a little in the water and getting bubbles up his nose. “Bastard.”

Aziraphale suppressed a smug grin. “Would you rather I tell you how radiant I think you look? Is that more appropriate?” Crowley, who was already sneezing bubbles out of his nose also began to turn beet red. “Or maybe I should offer to wash your hair and lavish you with attention?”

“Ngk.” Crowley blushed prettily, all the way down his neck and chest to the edge of the bathwater. “Can you do it without making a mess of my curls?”

Aziraphale scoffed, already reaching for the pre-conditioning treatment and hydrating shampoo Crowley preferred to use. “I’ve washed your hair before and done a fine job. Now turn your back to me so I can begin if you please.”

“Bossy angel,” Crowley muttered, his voice distinctly lacking in venom. “Be careful, think I moved too much during my nap and now there’s a huge tangle back there.”

“Of course dear. You let me know right away if I’m pulling too hard.” He squirted a healthy dollop of pre-conditioner and began massaging it into Crowley’s hair, ends first. Helpless to the gentle stroking of Aziraphale’s fingers through his hair Crowley sighed. The angel leaned forward so he could rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder and admire his husband’s relaxed form. Crowley leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of the tub, the slight swell of his belly just barely peeking out from the water and bubbles. He’d really started showing in the last week or two and Aziraphale could barely keep his hands to himself. 

As he let the conditioner sit his hands wandered and he let them. They explored the space at the base of Crowley’s skull, that little squishy indent where his skull met his spine. Then down to the shoulders--familiar territory--and back. Aziraphale wished he was in a position to massage his lover’s sore muscles more efficiently, but for now his caresses would have to do. 

From Crowley’s back he moved forward to his stomach. The roundness where there used to be only hard muscle caused a phantom-sensation, like joy zipping through his fingertips at being so close to their baby. Not to mention seeing Crowley so round and soft for the first time ever was still novel and a little exciting. The baby was quiet for now, no movement stirring under his fingertips, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. Just being close like this was enough.

“Ready to rinse?” he asked. Crowley, who had been drifting in that hazy space between dreaming and wakefulness, nodded. Aziraphale carefully tipped the demon’s head back to the faucet and ran cool water over the demon’s hair to wash the conditioner out. The shampoo came next, a delicious apple-scented mixture that Aziraphale was almost sure Crowley ordered custom from somewhere on the internet. That didn’t need to sit, so he quickly washed it out and moved on to the final conditioning.

“I can’t belive you do this every day,” Aziraphale remarked. Crowley chuckled--though it was really more of a giggle, which he would deny to his final breath--and wiggled around until he was laying on his side against Aziraphale’s chest, gazing up at him.

“Doesn’t take as long in the shower, you know. And not every day, you’ve seen me slummin it more than once and you still love me.” Aziraphale couldnt’ help but lean down and peck a kiss to his love’s nose.

“Darling I loved you before regular bathing was a thing so to speak. You’ve always been radiant.” Crowley wiggled again, all blissed-out and content. Aziraphale felt much the same.

“Do you remember when perfume was really in style? Couldn’t go fice minutes without sneezing.” They both laughed, followed by Azirpahale launching into a story about the time he’d had to revive a prominent noblewoman from a terribly unfortunate allergic reaction to his at-the-time newest fragrance. It was homey, and domestic, and they both thoroughly enjoyed it until the bathwater began to cool. Not that they couldn’t keep the water hot if they both wanted, but if they did that they may never leave the tub again

“Time to get out then?” he asked once Crowley’s hair was combed through and rinsed one final time. Crowley wiggled about for a few more minutes, waggling his toes in the sudsy water. Aziraphale allowed him the small pleasure of making a bit of a wet mess of the bathroom floor for a while because it meant he got to watch that small, shit-disturbing grin on the demon's face. When five minutes were up, he leaned forward and pulled the plug himself. 

“Fine, fine.” He let Aziraphale help him up, then wrap him in a great big, fluffy towel. Aziraphale did the same for himself, then turned to Crowley, handing wiping aside a few hairs that had become stuck to his face. 

“More rest, or do you fancy some dinner?” It was getting late, the bookshop slowly falling dark in the dusky evening light. Crowley was soft and pliant in his hands, not moving in the slightest as the angel miracled them into their respective relaxing clothes: sweats and a t-shirt for Crowley, and his usual get up, topped off with his soft reading jacket. “We could order in, if you like.”

“Lets compromise and pick something up? Can’t spend all day cooped up.” Crowley’s aversion to remaining stationary for too long hadn’t settled after the drive in the Bently and they’d been slowly going out more and more. Restaurants were still off the table, because food was still hit or miss for the demon, but they’d been enjoying walks in the park, long drives, and the occasional show at the theatre. Besides, Crowley intended to spend all night in the angel’s bed anyway, and if he played his cards right it would be easy to get Aziraphale to join him.