#temporary character death lol

[thetomorrowshow]

to the standing stone

DEADCEMBER DAY 8 - Sacrifice

ohboyohboyohboyohboy!!!!! I really like this one let’s go!!

fandom: 3rd Life SMP

cw: restraints, dislocation, death

~

Jimmy’s holding his hand.

It’s a stupid thing to focus on, when Skizz is stretching his right arm as far as it will go in order to tie it to the corner of Blackheart Altar. When he can hear the metallic shiiiing! as someone sharpens a blade. When there’s a hemp sack over his head blocking his vision. When he can smell the coppery blood and wet fur of Ren even through the sack. When there’s pools of rainwater soaking the knees of his jeans.

But Jimmy says something in a soothing voice barely audible over the excited talk and various other sounds, and rubs the back of his hand with his thumb, and Scott can’t make himself focus on anything else.

Skizz finishes the knot, pinching the skin of Scott’s wrist in it. Scott tugs experimentally on both arms, now both restrained on opposite sides of the altar. He’s stretched out like that, kneeling as tall as he can to minimize the strain on his shoulders. His arms are already beginning to ache, but he can’t focus on that.

Jimmy’s crying; he can hear the tears thickening his muffled words. Scott would normally drop everything to pull him close and comfort him, but he’s a little tied up right now (pun very much intended), and he doesn’t really have the emotional capacity to work through anyone’s problems but his own. He’s freaking out a little bit–more than a little bit, he’s about to be sacrificed so–he’s freaking out a lot.

“It’s okay,” Jimmy manages, wrapping his hand around Scott’s gradually-going-numb fingers. “We’re gonna be okay, yeah?”

Scott can’t reply. If he opens his mouth, he’s going to start crying. Instead, he twitches his fingers three times–I love you. Usually Jimmy laughs or sputters or turns red when Scott taps out I love you (a frequent occurrence, ever since they first were friends and Jimmy didn’t know what it meant), but now he’s silent. After a moment, Scott feels three taps on his wrist.

That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and twin tears slip down his cheeks. His nose is stuffing up, and he feels like he can’t breathe, not with the sack over his head, and he’s properly panicking and struggling and yanking at the ropes when Ren chuckles.

“Get Smajor to stay still before my men do.”

“Scott, hey, Petal, we need to be quiet, we need to stay still, okay? Scott, are you listening to me?”

Scott’s trying to listen but he can’t obey, he can’t move his arms and he can’t see and his nose is stuffed up and his eyes are streaming and he’s scared out of his wits. Usually he’s the calm one in their relationship, but even as Jimmy tries to calm him he’s writhing about, the ropes slicing into his wrists as he tugs wildly at his binds. He’s hyperventilating, breath shaky and fast, the occasional plea escaping his wheezes and whimpers. He would be embarrassed if he weren’t so scared.

“Impulse.”

It’s one word from Ren and suddenly the sack is being yanked off his head. Scott blinks and recoils–Impulse is right there, filling his vision–but he can’t back up, the ropes are already pulled taut. His knees slip, he swings forward, all weight on his arms, his muscles strain–

Impulse is pushing him back up, holding him in place until he stops thrashing for balance. When he finally stills, Impulse leans over his shoulder, whispers, “I’m sorry,” into his ear, then produces a none-too-clean strip of cloth which he shoves into Scott’s mouth, tying it around the back of his head.

Scott gags repeatedly, but manages to breathe through his nose before he vomits or chokes to death. A hand touches his back and he flinches forward. Ren, half in his line of sight, growls.

“Stay in your place, hobbit.”

The hand is gone, but now Jimmy’s in front of him, smiling through tears as Scott heaves breaths around the gag in his mouth and stares at his husband.

“There you are,” murmurs Jimmy, and gods he’s gorgeous. “I’m so sorry. If–if I could take your place, I would. In a heartbeat, you know?”

He would. Not that Scott would let him–realistically, Scott would be fine. He was still Green. There was no big reason to be so torn up about this situation.

Scott can’t help it. He feels like he’s losing all of his lives at once.

They had just been going on a date by their pond. They rarely left the walls, not now that Dogwarts had openly declared war on them, but their pond was as good a place as any for a midnight picnic. Jimmy was fully clothed in the pond–he’d slipped and fallen while dancing–, giggling as he splashed Scott, their dinner half-eaten behind them. Scott had kicked his shoes off and rolled up his jeans, feet cooling in the pool. It was lovely, a nice break from the drama of the server.

Of course it couldn’t stay that way.

Of course the Red Army had to creep over their walls, pouncing on them with sacks and ropes.

Maybe they never should have burned that flag.

“Martyn, my dude, will you be doing the honors?”

“Of course, my liege,” replies Martyn from somewhere behind Scott. Scott shudders. There’s no way out of this. He’s tied to an altar, gagged and on his knees. All he can hope is that he’ll take it with grace. He wishes they hadn’t gagged him–shame heats his cheeks as he pictures how he must look.

“Wait, I don’t understand!” Jimmy shouts, interrupting all mumbled conversation. A couple of snickers come from out of Scott’s range of sight, and Martyn says, “You don’t often understand much, Timmy.” Scott growls as loud as he can behind the gag. Nobody but him gets to make fun of Jimmy.

Ren backhands him across the face, ragged nails catching on his cheek as his head whips backward. “Shut up,” the Red King hisses contemptuously, then turns to Jimmy. “Speak, hobbit. Allow us to . . . enlighten you.”

Jimmy swallows, stands from where he kneels in front of Scott. Scott notices for the first time that Jimmy is bound as well, hands tied in front of him at the wrists and elbows. “I–I don’t get, exactly, why you’re doing this. Other than us not being on the best of terms, you know? Why do you need to do this?”

“The Red King requires blood, laddie,” Ren laughs, but Jimmy is undeterred. Scott’s tears have dried to tacky patches on his cheeks; he watches the interaction avidly (it makes for a decent distraction).

“Yeah, but why? How does that stuff work? Is there magic?”

“I–yes, there’s magic. That’s why it has to be at Blackheart Altar!”

“But what type of magic? How does it work?”

Ah, Scott realizes suddenly. Jimmy is stalling. Stalling for what, he’s not sure. As far as he knows, there’s no help on the way. Unless Jimmy managed to shoot off a quick ‘SOS’ to Grian and Scar before their assailants fished him out of the pond, there’s no way anyone knows they were here. It’s mid–it has to be three in the morning by now. There’s no way anyone is coming. Even Impulse, supposedly a double agent, hasn’t had any way to contact anyone. There’s no way that Scott will be saved.

Ren wraps up his meandering explanation, one that Jimmy clearly didn’t follow and Scott wasn’t listening to and oh no, what if by being sacrificed he’s signing his lives to the Red Army? What if he doesn’t resurrect from this?

“Okay, I get that,” says Jimmy dubiously, “but . . . just in case someone else wasn’t listening, can you explain it again? And slower. For them.”

“Milord, this is clearly a diversion,” Martyn drawls, stepping in front of Scott for the first time. He looks–like Martyn, down to the sandals and headband. The only thing that’s changed is a red band wrapped around his bicep. More members of the Red Army step into view–Etho, Impulse again, Skizz. Even BigB is here. They all have the red bands around their arms–all except Impulse, which strikes Scott as funny (he is the double agent, after all) before he realizes that Impulse’s red band is currently between his own teeth.

“Of course, me Hand, of course,” Ren acknowledges, his head high, posture stiff and regal. Scott notices the blood painting his crown has dried. Is that normal? The blood’s always looked fresh before. 

His breath quickens as he wonders if his own blood will soon be dripping down those jewels. 

“BigB, restrain this filthy creature. Etho, you have the book, yes? Mark out the runes on Blackheart Altar. Skizz, Impulse, prepare our offering.” With a swoosh of his cloak, Ren stalks away, Martyn in step instantly.

BigB does little to keep Jimmy restrained, just loosely holds him by his upper arms. Etho disappears again behind Scott, and when he tries to turn his head to see him, Skizz grabs him by the hair (not too rough, to be fair) and forces him to face forward. Then he loses track of everything as a bucket of ice water is dumped over his head.

He inhales a bit too much and chokes; someone thumps him on the back until he stops coughing. He’s shaking now, senses totally overwhelmed by the shock to his system, and he actually cries out around the gag when someone–Skizz, he thinks–attacks his cheek with something rough. Again he slips, the ground even more wet than before, and this time as his body weight shifts to his shoulders, something pops.

Blinding pain shoots through Scott’s left shoulder and he screams, muffled and choked-off. He barely registers a muttered curse before his left arm falls free, impossible to move and–someone shoves it, once, twice, white-hot agony bursting through him with each touch, he bites the gag to keep from screaming again–it pops back into place with an unquantifiable sense of relief. He gasps for breath around the gag, can’t get a good one, then his breath is stolen from him completely as whoever has his arm stretches it out again and begins to tie his wrist to the pillar. His shoulder creaks; he lets whoever is beside him prop him up to better support himself.

Then they’re diving at his face again, but before he can slip and dislocate his other shoulder, Jimmy is yelling, “All right, all right, stop! Let me do it!”

Scott blinks back tears as he hears nothing but grass rustling, sees nothing but the dirt, then Jimmy is kneeling before him, holding a dripping rag in his bound hands. He drops the rag to his lap and cradles Scott’s face as well as he can, smiling that infuriating smile.

“Hey baby,” Jimmy sniffles, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I’m gonna clean you up, all right? You’ve got a little mud on your cheek.”

Scott focuses on Jimmy’s eyes, the softest red he’s ever seen. Before Jimmy had gone Red, he’d never known the color to hold anything but pain and anger and harm. In Jimmy’s eyes, though, he sees poppies and roses and tulips. He sees warmth and passion and love. He sees his best friend, his husband, his Jimmy.

“There we go,” says Jimmy softly. He runs the rag across Scott’s cheek, gliding over his sopping hair to push it back from his face. If it weren’t for the ever-growing pain in his arms and knees, and the gag in his mouth, Scott might be able to convince himself that they’re at home, sharing a tender moment early in the morning.

The tip of something cold and sharp presses against Scott’s swollen shoulder and he flinches, but the knife only drags down through his sleeves, then back up to slice through his collar. It repeats on the other side, and Scott’s shirt and jacket fall off him, revealing his pale torso to the flickering torchlight. Goosebumps form instantly as a gust of wind blows by, and Scott shivers and just hopes that they don’t tear off his jeans too. He isn’t sure he would be able to stand it.

Luckily they don’t go any further, but point to his shivering form and Jimmy understands, washing his chest too. It’s an intimate act that usually Scott would enjoy, but not like this, not on display just before he gets murdered, both he and Jimmy forced at knifepoint. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to imagine that they’re anywhere but here, but it’s impossible–his mind stays stubbornly in his freezing body.

Jimmy presses a soft kiss to his collarbone and Scott shakes his head frantically, eyes flashing open to meet Jimmy’s. He shakes his head again, trying to convey as much seriousness into his movements as possible. He doesn’t want–any of that–associated with this moment.

Jimmy, always in-tune with him when it counts, understands. He nods, then returns to the washing–still tender, but with much less unnecessary touch than before.

When he finishes he steps back, dropping the rag to the dirt. BigB holds him by the shoulders again as Etho moves in front of Scott, barely inches from him, head bowed as he carefully draws sigils and runes in blood-red chalk around the outer ring of the altar. A few more minutes and he’s done, snapping the book shut as he dusts off his hands. As if summoned, Ren reappears, Martyn by his side.

“I do want to say sorry, Smajor,” Ren says, and it’s not the voice of the Red King–it actually sounds like Ren. He straightens his sunglasses with one finger, staring impassively down at shivering, half-naked Scott. “If you’d flown our banner, we never would’ve chosen you. But the Red King needs blood to survive, and it’s been too long since a battle, and you were the easiest to grab.” He spreads his hands, as if this explains everything. Martyn nods, as if it does.

“So no hard feelings, yeah?” says Martyn, and Scott musters up the most piercing glare he can and fixes it on the Hand of the King. Martyn shrugs unapologetically.

Ren rolls his shoulders back, then calls, the thick brogue of the Red King once again accenting his voice, “Impulse! Bring forth the axe of Red Winter!”

“No!” Jimmy cries, pulling free of BigB to kneel in front of Ren. “Not like this, please, we can help you find someone else–” he starts to beg, but Ren cuts him off with a boot square in his chest. Jimmy falls on his side to the ground, unable to catch himself. A snap of Ren’s fingers and Skizz is hauling Jimmy to his knees, directly in front of Scott but outside the circle of runes. There he holds him firmly, even as Jimmy struggles desperately to get free.

Martyn hops onto the altar–Scott shivers as a wave of power rises from the runes.

"Milord, you need to be up here too," says Martyn, ruffling Scott's hair from behind. Scott flinches, feeling sick, a stone dropping to the bottom of his stomach. Why did he touch him? He's about to be sacrificed, that's torment enough.

Ren strides past the runes, also ruffling Scott's hair. This time he doesn't flinch, just glares at a point beyond Jimmy's forehead.

There's a whooshing behind him, felt rather than heard, and Scott cranes his neck around to see what the two men are doing–Etho grabs his hair and forces his head to face forward again. When he respawns, Scott's going to wash his hair four times.

There's muttering behind him, more whooshes. The members of the Red Army watch with anticipation (except Impulse, who looks almost morbidly fascinated), all focused on a point behind Scott. Scott hates that he can't see it, hates that he can't turn around without running the risk of hurting himself (or Jimmy) even further, hates that he can't talk to ask what's going on. The light rainfall continues to mist down, and Scott's wet and uncomfortable and aching and exhausted and he doesn't want to die, not here on Blackheart Altar, not anywhere, he's going to die and he's terrified and–

"Hey. Hey Petal," Jimmy whispers, and Scott's eyes snap toward his husband’s. Jimmy smiles wetly. "I'm here, all right? It's not that bad, I promise." Jimmy nods along with his words, and Scott finds himself nodding back. "Everything's gonna be okay."

Jimmy's eyes catch on something behind Scott, and he knows this is it, but Jimmy looks right back at him and smiles, eyes flooding.

Scott stares into those watery eyes–those beautiful, red eyes–and is still, even as the torchlight glints on the axe behind him as it raises into the air.

[serickswrites]

Could you do more of Ice?

Of course! I love requests. So glad you enjoyed reading it! (and no need to be anon, would love to see who is behind the lovely request!)

Part 1 Part 3

Warnings: drowning, hypothermia, cpr, temporary character death (maybe? if this is to continue, i'll have to figure out their status lol)

Caretaker watched in horror as the ice beneath Whumpee's feet cracked and the inky blackness of the lake swallowed them whole.

"WHUMPEE!" Caretaker shouted as they rushed onto the ice.

But Whumpee couldn't hear them. Couldn't respond. The biting cold of the water had sucked the air from their lungs. They drifted further away from Caretaker as the darkness consumed them.

Caretaker frantically cleared the thin layer of snow from the top of the ice surrounding the hole. They tried to spy any evidence of Whumpee. Anything so they could break through and grab them. But there was nothing.

Caretaker howled their frustration to the cold night, slamming their fist down on the ice. The ice cracked, but didn't break. They did it again and again. Their frustration mounting. Just when they had Whumpee, they were lost again. Slipping right through their fingers. Forever.

As Caretaker beat the ice, they imagined the fear and pain Whumpee's last moments were. They imagined having to return here in the spring, after the thaw, to collect Whumpee's waterlogged and bloated corpse. No! They had to get Whumpee now.

The ice cracked once more and gave way beneath Caretaker's swollen knuckles. Caretaker thrust their arm, all the way up to their shoulder, into the freezing water. Their fingers cast about, hoping to touch, hoping to feel Whumpee. Soft fabric met Caretaker's searching fingers.

Caretaker cried in delight as they grabbed the fabric and pulled. They hauled a limp and blue Whumpee on to the ice. Whumpee's eyes were closed and they didn't sputter or cough. They remained still, unmoving, and completely boneless in Caretaker's arms.

Quitely, with breath held, Caretaker put cold fingers to Whumpee's even colder throat, searching for the lub dub of Whumpee's heart. There was nothing. Caretaker cried out, but they were not giving up. They were so close. Caretaker immediately lay Whumpee flat on the ice and started pumping on Whumpee's chest. "Come on now. Not like this. Please. Whumpee. Please!"

Whumpee moved with each chest compression. But no choking breath came. No coughing to clear fluid-filled lungs. Nothing. Whumpee remained ever so silent, their face peaceful from their watery grave.

"Please! Whumpee! Come ON!" Caretaker shouted into the snowy night, pumping harder, not caring if a rib was broken, only caring that Whumpee breathed once more.

And still, Whumpee remained silent.

[whump-captain]

No. 8 - Everything hurts and I'm dying

Stomach pain | Head trauma | Back from the dead

2800 words | OC: Kintsugi

*leans into mic* three thousand words of body horror

no clue if this is coherent but the gist of it is fucked up sentient metal possessing people let's goooooo

---

CN: escape, gun use, gunshot, (temporary) character death, gore, body horror, general news horror, broken bones, harmful healing, magical healing, vomiting

---

"Come on," Lucy panted. "We'll lose them by the quarry."

The cold air made it difficult to take a full breath, even though she wasn't running anymore. Ethan was two steps behind her, stumbling in the ankle-deep snow but managing to keep up. It seemed the painkillers had whipped him into shape. His face was flushed and he stood a bit straighter now that the makeshift splint did the job of stabilising his arm. He didn't look at Lucy, eyes roaming the frigid landscape with a feverish intensity.

"Quarry?" he asked. His voice was rough for the heavy breaths he was struggling to control - but he pressed on. Lucy appreciated that, even though she had no time to think about voicing it.

"There's a gold mine just behind that hill," she explained with a wave of her hand. The tangled thicket of thin trees made the hill look imposingly tall but Lucy knew the way. They could circle it in no more than fifteen minutes and be in the clear. Assuming the quarry itself wasn't staffed and ready to mow them down the second they emerged from the forest. "There should be cars there, we can use them to get to the coast," she said.

"Why is there a gold mine here?"

"I don't fucking know," she snapped. "Shut up and keep walking."

Fuck's sake, she couldn't believe him. Her own mind was entirely occupied trying to deal with the dozens of armed mercenaries hot on her heels and here he was asking question after question about every stupid thing she said. And that after he'd spent almost a month getting the shit kicked out of him for sticking his nose into Memory's business. It was insufferable. He acted like he had some personal stake in figuring out every pointless detail about this island; like he stood a chance to understand anything the Response Group did.

Lucy asked herself again why she was risking her bloody life for this stranger. Once again, her strung up mind refused to answer logically.

All she could do was to keep walking.

They reached the edge of the wood and Lucy weaved in between the thin, slender trees. The snow was thinner here, too, revealing more of the ground uneven with rocks and ridges. Out of the wind, deceptive heat flooded Lucy's skin and she tightened her grip on her gun. She wished she'd had time to grab her rifle instead of this useless pistol; or to grab anything at all. As far as escape plans went, this one had been shite.

"I can't hear them anymore," Ethan whispered. By the shake in his voice Lucy guessed that they were on the same page: that this wasn't necessarily good.

"No." She scanned the spindly shadows around them, then looked up the slope of the hill. "They might be surrounding us."

She wanted to run. But it would do her no good if Ethan couldn't keep up. So she only picked up the pace slightly and glanced behind her. His face glistened with sweat and his teeth were chattering, but he stayed close. Good.

At the foot of the hill, Lucy took a turn through the denser trees. There was no point climbing; they would only tire out and they'd be exposed on the bare hilltop. If she'd remembered correctly, heading east would bring them out onto a small plain and then straight to the quarry. From there - she would figure it out.

The trees cleared out soon and new strength spread through Lucy's body. The bitter wind whipped her again but there was the quarry, in the distance, reaching up to the sky with black arms of machinery. Only a few hundred meters of snow and bare bushes laid between her and the goal.

They barely took five steps into the clearing when she heard it. A whistle and a tap.

Her mind added the gunshot, muffled and distant.

A sniper.

"Get down!" she yelled.

Whistle, tap. Snow burst out in a cloud where the bullet hit. Lucy sprinted, slid to drop by a bush. No protection.

Another whistle, just as she whipped her head up to look.

Ethan only managed half a turn. Another tap.

The bullet caught him square in the chest and threw him six feet back like a ragdoll. Lucy cried out. She started towards him; more snow exploded out under fire. She stumbled, fell back behind cover.

"Hold fire!" someone shouted. The voice echoed through the plain. "Lucy Richardson, stand up with your hands in the air!"

She ignored it. She pushed herself up, halfway on her knees, she felt her way through the snow with gloved hands. The imaginary gunshot rang in her ears and everything in front of her blurred. She only saw colour. Blinding white marred by bright, biting crimson. A dark shape motionless in the snow. A tunnel stretching infinitely before her, black and suffocating and inescapable.

She had failed.

Ethan's empty eyes stared up into the sky. He laid with his arms thrown open and his face frozen in a soft expression of surprise. A tiny hole in his jacket bloomed around it a ring of red. Under him was a pool of blood, thick with viscera and studded with white shards of bone. It soaked into his hair and his clothes - Lucy's old jacket, useless now at keeping him warm.

Her shaking hand rested on his neck, but it was formality. Stillness and cold seeped into her body from Ethan's skin and extinguished the last traces of fire that determination and adrenaline had lit under her.

Replacing it, a void opened up in her stomach. She had screwed up again. She'd cost someone their life. Everything that she had spent so long running away from had caught up. There was blood on her hands again and the snow refused to wash it away. All her effort, her doubt, her illogical, infuriating thoughts - it had all been pointless. The final outcome was the same as if she had never gotten involved at all, if she had never abandoned her safe refuge of apathy.

Ethan Lythmer was dead.

All she had gained was the sight of his lifeless face growing grey and rigid in the cold.

=====

Within the ground, notice is taken.

I sense the change above me; it feels like a snap in the stillness that envelops me. The steady rock flinches and I lose focus.

The dead human weeps its heat out into the soil's veins. The warmth is a thrill but it's a fleeting one. I want to keep it. The human wanted that too, in its last moment of sentience and experience.

It was the most exquisite moment.

I want it to last, like I do.

If time is a plane, I am the slice cut out of it and turned on its side. If the future is a sunset, I am the north pole in summer. If the past exists, I hate it.

I take from it, unhindered and joyful. I drown in that single moment of overwhelming emotion and I let it freeze with me into forever.

I embrace the human and I take it with me.

=====

The snow steamed. Bare black earth emerged from under it and then began to crack. A nauseating stench of boiling blood filled the air and then the rock swelled, as if the whole island took in a breath.

The ground drank. The cracks filled and spidered out in a sprawling pattern of veins. They hissed and then, suddenly, they shone.

Pure liquid gold erupted into the veins in a single pulse, turning the soiled earth into a masterpiece.

With a sound like an unsheathed knife, a spike of gold ripped out from the ground and stabbed through Ethan's chest. The force lifted the body off of the ground where it hung impaled with arms splayed like a pinned butterfly. Lucy jerked away, slipping in the snow. Blood poured down the golden stalagmite and swirled as it was absorbed into nothing more than a reddish sheen. The tip of the spike exploded out of the bullet hole into a thousand hair-thin branches like a bare, fractal tree.

Time itself frosted over and from a frozen moment in the past, Ethan's consciousness was thrust back into his body. The peaceful black split open as light exploded, painting the veins in his eyes bright gold.

He had no lungs to gasp with. There was a gaping hole in his back where they should be, framed by teeth of broken ribs and curtains of pouring blood. He saw it. He felt its warmth as the gold eagerly drank and circulated it.

This massacred body wasn't his. He watched it from the outside, through some other eyes. He couldn't feel anything below his neck. The pressure of suffocation was trapped in his skull and it built until he couldn't bear it and his vision dimmed again - but this time there wasn't peace in the dark.

Please, he thought, more feeling than consciousness. I can't breathe. I'm going to die.

Something replied, inside his mind:

Not die, not die.

The voice echoed into infinity and Ethan thought his eardrums would burst.

We live, we live, it said.

Help me, was all he could think.

The darkness sharpened and struck him like a fist. Gold burst out into his vision in infinitely repeating cracks and they formed an undulating shape. A shape that watched him, reached out to him.

A shape that lived.

A skintight grip enveloped him like ice and for a moment, he was whole again. The world cracked in half and fell away, and he emerged back into the light like a metal cast released from a mould.

The gold below him crawled up. Drawn from the veins that scarred the earth, liquid metal flowed up the spike and then further. It found the crushed mess of Ethan's spine and curled around it, pouring into the cracks and bringing the shattered bone back together. It reached through the past, to the split second between the bullet entering the body and the moment it ripped its way out. From that memory and from the tissue it had devoured, the gold spun a delicate wireframe of a ribcage, glinting like jewellery among the slick gore. Shuddering like rock under a seismic wave, new bone grew into it from nothing and formed bare, exposed ribs. In their confines, red, bulbous flesh boiled out of the collapsed lungs and made them swell back into shape.

They lurched, pushing air out into the rest of the body. Blood bubbled out of Ethan's mouth, he choked on the breath forced into him. A violent cough contracted his chest. It felt like drowning, like burning liquid rising in his throat with every gurgling gasp.

He felt his body again. Torn nerve endings were welded together with flowing gold and immediately they caught fire. Ethan couldn't even scream. Pain exploded through his chest and burned through his back as new skin emerged on torn muscle in gleaming gold patches until the frayed edges of the exit wound met again and melted shut. Flesh merged with metal and became one with the stalagmite that held the body aloft.

Ethan heaved a desperate gasp, fighting the pain burning between his ribs. All he could manage was a keening groan before fire shot through him again and strangled his voice. He could feel the living gold circulating alongside his blood - a cold, crawling presence pushing its way between the layers of tissue. Wherever it found the skin broken, it burst out of the wounds in crystal-like spikes, spraying blood as the damaged flesh tore further. Ethan finally screamed as gold blades stabbed out of the barely healed cuts on his forehead.

New lines of pain erupted all over his body. He was dying, surely; again. He would bleed out. He could see the blood and his own writhing body and he knew this time that it wasn't hallucination. He looked through the eyes of something else; something that was sentient even though it was heatless metal deep underground. It watched, and drank, and thought - to itself but also to Ethan, straight into his mind:

We live, we live. I help, I help.

It felt his pain. The feeling echoed just like its glittering voice did, reflected into two bodies - human and not. The gold blades softened and smoothed. They melted back into the wounds and spilled, leaving behind raised, exquisitely glistening, golden scars. The pain faded slowly into a biting ache like frostbite. Ethan fought for frantic, wheezing breaths but cold pushed through his body again; spread out from his chest and out into his limbs.

Without an immediate memory, the inhuman, metal being could only guess at the human body's correct shape. Ethan's skin turned black as liquid metal replaced the blood in the bruises on his arm. The pain ripped from his throat, a ragged, barely human howl of agony. A metal grip wrapped around the broken bones and ground them together in an attempt to weld them back into one. Ethan's vision dissolved, burned away. His forearm snapped in half at a right angle and golden spikes erupted from the skin as the bone ripped it open. All other feeling was gone. His body had disconnected from everything but this horrifying, all-consuming pain; the heartlessly clear feeling of muscle tearing away from tendons. Gold leaked into marrow and the bones shattered from the inside out, exploded by sudden pressure.

But then the metal spun into itself and the bone shards gathered back into shape. The gold fused them together and filled in the gaps. A delicate net of cracks and seams caught the light once before new veins and nerves stretched out over it like wet wires, reattaching as they crawled. Ethan's scream hitched. He thought he'd faint. He had to faint, he couldn't bear any more. Silently, he begged for unconsciousness to take him, for any escape from the pain. For death, if that was what it took. But the echoing voice in his head kept singing and it kept him awake - and so Ethan kept screaming, his body convulsing around the destructive force that was trying to save him.

Like a ship in a bottle unfolded by a carefully pulled string, the mangled flesh and bone of his arm twisted back into its natural shape. The last of the regenerating muscle bulged out and was wrapped in skin, growing out from it like a stain of paint. A raised patch of gold blistered the surface where the fracture had been open, settling into a shining, metal-smooth scar.

Ethan's breath came in a strangled wheeze. Trickles of blood ran down from his mouth and eyes, marking crimson lines on his ash grey face. His fingers twitched as the new tendons tested their motions but he didn't feel it. The pain still rang through his body, an afterimage of agony. His chest heaved as his lungs demanded air, even though he had no strength to keep breathing. A groan died in his throat, emerging only as a broken, barely audible whimper.

The voice sang, like wind whistling between the mountains:

You live, you live.

It was the last thing Ethan heard before he was finally allowed to faint.

The golden tree that grew out of his chest slowly withered. The veinlike branches curled in and retracted into the spindly trunk until it became a single, smooth spike. It bent down and held Ethan's body upright, with its feet an inch away from the ground, as if posing it to stand. It hung from the metal impaling it, limp and bloodied - but it was whole, every break and bruise healed.

The golden spike thinned and shortened. In a blink of an eye it became little more than a glistening thread. Then it snapped with a quiet clink and disappeared.

Ethan's body dropped into the snow.

There was silence.

It was broken by the sound of retching. Lucy dropped to her knees and vomited, her shaking arms barely holding her up. Everything was hollow. She felt like she had to scream, but the grip on her throat didn't let any voice out. It felt like metal.

It felt like it would come for her next.

Somebody else's gagging coughs broke through the haze. There was shouting. There were footsteps. Someone was yelling her name, screaming at her to raise her arms. She did, sitting back on her heels. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the body in front of her. She could see brilliant gold among the ruined clothes.

Movement erupted around her. Two men pointed rifles at her, shouting, but she couldn't understand them. Another one was talking into a radio; cracks of static rang out like gunshots in Lucy's ears.

"We need medical evac and a full containment team to seven-west slash-" The words blurred together in her ears. Someone told her to stand up, so she did.

There was fog over her eyes, melting everything into the muted white of stained snow. Like afterimages from the blinding sun, shadows of golden veins remained in her vision.

No matter how many times she blinked, they wouldn't fade away.

[bakageyama-s]

slow burn or love at first sight // fake dating or secret dating // enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers // oh no there’s only one bed or long-distance correspondence // hurt-comfort or amnesia // fantasy au or modern au // mutual pining or domestic bliss // smut or fluff // canon-compliant or fix-it // reincarnation or character death // one-shot or multi-chapter // kid fic or road trip fic // arranged marriage or accidental marriage // high school romance or middle aged romance // time travel or isolated together // neighbours or roommates // sci-fi au or magic au // body swap or gender bend // angst or crack // apocalyptic or mundane

tagged by @imvietnamesenotchinese

tagging @earthboundstray , @ice-knife and @eddieakfayi

[hawnks]

YOU WENT ALL THIS TIME NOT KNOWING HE WAS DEAD???? bruh LOL wish that were me!!

I read the Manga FIRST and the prequel at some point after the shibuya arc because I did NOT expect him to be dead!!!

I was so mad

is it ever even mentioned in the manga until shibuya?? like I knew SOMETHING was wrong with him because…. his face….

but not… that…. :/

[evonik-k]

Ponk would be lying if he says he doesn’t love Sam. Of course he does, how can he not? Sam is… incredible. The man has his faults, everyone does. Ponk is no exception.

Sam's shortcoming is cleverly disguised as a beneficial trait. A quirk that works to trick people into thinking it is a positive - a thing to be admired.

His biggest flaw has to be his sense of responsibility.

.

Ponk loves Sam. He loves Sam to the point of insanity... But while his feelings are reciprocated, he can't help but feel as if there is a certain building, a certain job that will always trump him in terms of importance. That's fine, he can work with that. But promises are promises, and if they're broken... well it's only natural to get payback, isn't it?

.

Sam loves Ponk. He loves the way Ponk moves, the way he laughs, the way he can emote so much through his eyes alone... he loves him. But a certain shadow keeps Sam from treating Ponk the way he should be treated - a responsibility that suffocates and destroys him every second he spends in its grasp. A responsibility, that could be the end of the man he cares for.

Chapter one of A Matter of Principle is out! Please go read it, i poured a lot of emotions into these two assholes TT^TT

[authenticcadence18]

Butterfly pt. 1

Here’s the pre-Battle For Mewni canon-divergent Starco fic I wrote in 2017!!!

Have a note from my younger self to give context to the story:

“I'm not quite sure what events lead up to this or what happens afterward...this story is just a piece of what I imagine could happen during Toffee's eventual attack on Mewni. This scene takes place on Mewni, and Marco obviously used his dimensional scissors to get there.....duh 😜.”

(Also I wrote this four years ago, when my writing style wasn’t nearly as developed/polished as it is now. I could spend hours editing it, but I‘d feel kinda bad doing that to my younger self😂.)

...

AO3

...

"STAR!!!!!!!!!"

Marco struggled relentlessly against the green chains of energy that prohibited him from moving, but there was nothing he could do but watch, horrified, as Toffee drained the life out of his best friend

"STOP!!!! YOU'RE HURTING HER!!!!!"

Piercing green magic gushed from the severed crystal imbedded in the villain's hand and swirled furiously around Star, whose electric blue eyes were growing dimmer by the second. The princess lunged at Toffee, wand-in-hand, in one final attempt to subdue him, but his magical assault had weakened her body beyond repair. With a shrill moan, Star collapsed to the ground and lay motionless, the light in her pupils now almost completely extinguished.

A sob tore through Marco's throat as he struggled against the magical shackles binding him for the umpteenth time, only to discover that he was now able to move freely. He scrambled to his best friend's side and frantically began checking for a pulse, for breath, for anything that indicated she was alright. All the while, he continued to assure her, "It's okay, Star, you're fine, it's going to be fine, please be fine, you'll be just fine, Star, PLEASE be fine!!!!"

But he felt nothing.

Star Butterfly—crown princess, heir to the throne of Mewni, and Marco's best friend—was no more.

"......you killed her......" Marco uttered blankly, staring into the sunken black eyes of the girl who'd radically changed his life in such a short amount of time. Trembling, partially from despair and partially from fury, he inclined his head to meet Toffee's watchful gaze and repeated, "....you KILLED her...!!"

Toffee chuckled, the chilling timbre of his voice not quite clicking with the spindly bird form he still had possession of. "Well, not technically," the former Ludo corrected Marco smoothly, hovering above him with a smile that could have been perceived as understanding, had he not already revealed his hand. "I've merely drained her magical life force. It would be possible to restore it and revive her if you had any healers around, but..."

He smirked.

"I believe the Chancellor is still...out of commission."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "Alright, fine! You've got Star! What about me? Are you going to suck the life out of me too before I karate-chop you into the next multiverse???"

Toffee tisked, an almost fatherly expression appearing on his face. "Oh Marco," he crooned gently, as if gently chiding a disobedient child. "There's no point in that. Without her?" He gestured to Star's broken form. "You're nothing."

With this, the villain cackled menacingly and snatched up Star's wand before zooming out of the cave and slamming a rock in front of the entrance with a wave of his hand, leaving Marco alone with the shell of the coolest girl he'd ever known.

With Toffee gone, the reality of the situation slowly began to sink in....

Star was gone.

And it was his fault.

"....STAR!!!!" Marco wailed, tears blurring his vision. "THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!!! I—it's all my fault..... If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have had any reason to cleave your wand in the first place!! You...you'd be alive..."

He took one of Star’s cold hands in his, despair weighing him down so heavily that he doubted he'd ever be able to stand again.

"You trusted me with your friendship, and I hurt you. You trusted me with your life, and I let you die....

"...you trusted me with your heart...." he managed to choke, the final lyrics of Ruberiot's song reverberating within his skull, "...and all I did was push it aside......"

He knelt near Star in silence for a few minutes, grasping desperately for answers within his head. How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen??

"You know," Marco murmured weakly, "Jackie and I decided to stop dating pretty soon after you left Earth. I knew finding my best friend and being there to support her was more important than focusing on a girlfriend, and Jackie agreed....but I also think she was convinced that I'd fallen for you..."

He winced.

“...but I guess none of that really matters now, huh?"

Marco gazed down at the princess's fallen form, wishing beyond belief that he'd done things differently in Star's time on Earth, wishing he knew what he could have done to prevent her from ending up like this, wishing he'd been able to see the truth before it had been too late to act upon it.

"I'll finish what you started, Star," he vowed, determination seeping into his voice. "I promise, I'll do everything I can to protect the citizens of Mewni and defeat Toffee. And I promise that I'll never stop looking for a way to bring you back and that you'll always be the best, most amazing friend I could've ever hoped to have, and that..."

His voice cracked.

"...and that I'll always love you."

Gently, Marco brushed a rebellious strand of blonde hair off of Star's forehead and planted a soft kiss on her brow.

"Goodbye, Star."

With this, Marco's resolve shattered, and he broke down in gut-wrenching sobs, shoulders quaking and chest burning.

So it made sense that he didn't notice when the two hearts stamped on Star's cheeks began glowing faintly.

Slowly, translucent webs of purple began weaving themselves around the princess's form, lifting her up bit by bit as they did so. Star herself did not stir, but something within her most certainly was stirring.

When Marco felt Star's fingers shift away from his, his eyes shot wide open. Out of instinct, he jerked back upon observing her continue to rise off of the ground, still unconscious. As the webs grew thicker and thicker, encasing the princess's entire body, the rosy glow emanating from them only grew as well. Marco watched in awe as the chrysalis began to vibrate when it rose to around five feet off of the ground. Faster and stronger it writhed, until at last, with a searing flash of light so bright and pink that Marco lost his vision for a couple of seconds, the figure within burst free.

"......am I dead? ..... Marco, is that you?? Are we both dead???"

Marco, unfortunately, was currently incapable of offering any sort of response. He simply stood, gaping, with his eyes set upon the girl hovering a few yards away from him.

Star waved her hands in Marco's direction, only to recoil when she found more than eight fingers—and purple ones, no less!—at her disposal. "Yikes!!" she shrieked, recoiling.

Her eyes narrowed as she examined her two newly-formed sets of limbs. "....wait a minute."

Tentatively, she craned her head back--and gasped with joy at what she discovered.

"MY MEWBERTY WINGS!!!!!!!" Star giggled gleefully, twirling circles in the air on a pair of intricately-patterned lavender wings. "THEY'RE ALL GROWN UP!!!!!!"

And indeed they were. Star Butterfly had at last unlocked the full heritage of the Butterfly dynasty coded deep within her DNA. Unfolding from her back were two massive butterfly wings adorned with shimmering hearts. Six arms extended from her torso now, and a pair of dainty antennae bobbled above her head. Her hair, now also a shade of dark violet, had shortened significantly as well, so as not to get caught in her wings.

"This is so cool...!" Star breathed. "Marco, what do you think??"

The sound of Star repeating his name finally snapped Marco out of his stupor.

"....STAR!!!!!!" he proclaimed elatedly, hastily rushing over to her with a luminescent grin on his face. "You're okay!!!!! Well—more than okay, actually!"

Beaming, Star scooped Marco up in a six-armed hug and spun him around in the air a few times, the two of them laughing and celebrating as if the events of the past month or so had never occurred.

But just as quickly as Star's mood spiraled upward, reality set back in as she began recalling where she was. Quickly, the princess set Marco down before planting her own feet on the floor.

"Wait a minute..." she voiced with uncertainty, cocking her head at her best friend. "Didn't Toffee, like, drain my powers and more or less leave me for dead? That's the last thing I remember..."

Marco nodded with a little shiver. “…yup.”

"So...how am I prancing about on newly-grown mewberty wings now?"

Marco shrugged. He had to keep blinking to assure himself that Star’s transformation wasn’t just a cruel trick of his heartache-addled mind.

Star stared at him for a moment, perplexed. Then, without quite knowing why she was led to do so, she tentatively raised a hand to her forehead and touched it—in the very spot where Marco had kissed her only minutes before.

Instantly, a wave of understanding pummeled Star, and she staggered back.

"...it was you!" she gasped.

But before she had the chance to elaborate on this, the stone guarding the entrance to the cave groaned and started shifting to the side.

“You know something, Marco?” Toffee called out as he pushed the stone away. “I’ve been thinking...maybe you have some potential after all! You see, I’ve been meaning to find a new—erm, shall we say, host? And what better person to destroy Mewni as than the former princess’s best fri—“

Toffee took pride in having mastered a distinctly precise ability to mask his emotions. It was one of the qualities that kept him on his toes after centuries of plotting against the Butterfly family. But even he, the immortal monster of legends and tapestries, could not contain his bewilderment at the sight awaiting him.

Star Butterfly was fine. More than fine, actually. She had never appeared more powerful. And Marco Diaz, the seemingly-useless karate boy, was standing right beside her.

Heroes and villain stared wide-eyed at each other, each wondering how to gain the upper hand. After matter of seconds that consisted of Toffee darting his gaze between the princess and her prince, understanding suddenly dawned upon him. He chuckled, quickly regaining his composure.

“Well well…” the monster crooned with a smirk, directing his gaze towards Marco. “Looks like you aren’t as much of a disappointment as I thought.

“And Star! Why, you look just like your mom did the last time we fought. It's a shame to think of her discovering that her dear little princess finally earned her wings but tragically had the life re-drained out of her before she really got to use them…I’ll be sure to dispose of her before she has to find out." With these words, Toffee fired a blast of green magic at the currently-wandless Star, smiling wickedly.

Star, however, wasn't going to give herself up so easily this time. Eyes and hearts igniting, she thrust her hands forward as searing pink magic gushed out of them like a waterfall and formed a bubble around her. Toffee's blast fizzled and sputtered away as soon as it touched the force-field.

Toffee's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in disdain. He fired another shot at Star, and then another, and then another, but the warrior princess deflected every blast as effortlessly as if she'd been doing it for her whole life. When Toffee realized that he'd lost his chance to defeat her, he made a last-ditch attempt to gain the upper hand by manifesting a giant, luminescent green limb and snatching Marco—who'd been soaking up every second of the battle from the sidelines, awestruck—with it....not realizing his action would have the opposite effect of what he intended.

"NO."

The next thing Toffee knew, he was lying flat on his back with the wind knocked out of his host's puny lungs. He could vaguely make out the hazy form of Star Butterfly hovering over him with a venomous glint in her eyes.

"You can try and kill me all you want, but touch Marco....and I'll destroy you," she declared in a razor-sharp whisper.

For the first time since he'd lost his finger to Moon, all those years ago, Toffee's stomach--though, technically it was still Ludo's stomach--lurched as an unpleasant chill seized his body.

He was afraid.

With the last of his energy, the villain rose from the ground and frantically fled the cave, leaving Star's wand behind in his haste.

Star remained hovering in the air, glaring after him with the same stone-hard expression on her face.

".....Star?"

Tentatively, Marco approached the princess and grabbed the hand that was nearest to him.

"You can calm down now. He's gone."

Star's shoulders relaxed, and she gently sank to the ground, her wings and extra arms folding up and disappearing as she did so. Marco immediately knelt beside his best friend and helped her to stand, supporting her weight while she re-adjusted to her normal form.

Star winced, holding one of two hands to her now-pale forehead

"Ugh....Mom didn't tell me how draining it is to earn your wings...." she grumbled.

Marco, on the other hand, had never felt more alive. "Star, that was amazing!!!!" he exclaimed. "You just took down Toffee, the same guy who managed to defeat the entire magic high commission and drain their powers in less than two minutes!!! And after he'd drained your power, too!!!!! You still managed to beat him!!!!!!"

Star stared at the ground for a bit, the gears in her head whirring. Finally, she raised her gaze to Marco, hand still poised at the top of her head.

"But I couldn't have done it if it weren't for you.”

"....what do you mean?" Marco asked—though deep down he suspected he understood what Star was getting at.

"I--I'm not sure..." Star replied sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders with a meager chuckle. "It's just...it's like....you replenished my power source. I can feel it was you. But I can't figure out how!!"

Marco bit his lip, uncertain as to how he could be more anxious in this moment than he'd been when Toffee was about to possess him.

Then, he spotted the royal wand, which was still strewn on the floor. Swiftly, he scooped up the heirloom and held it out to Star, who seemed to snap back into focus upon seeing it.

"You're right, Marco," the princess decreed, reclaiming her wand from her best friend. "We'll talk through this later."

Grinning mischievously, Star sprang into the air and raised her arms, and suddenly she was a butterfly again!

"Right now, we have a kingdom to save!"

...

Thanks for reading!! I actually wrote part of a continuation to this back in the day but I never quite finished it...soooo I’m going to try to finish it and then post the conclusion sometime!

(And AGAIN there’s a lot of canon-divergent stuff in this fic, I know Star isn’t ACTUALLY biologically a Butterfly😅. But I didn’t know that four years ago, lol!)

[fyreb2rd]

“I like this player, it played well. It did not give up.”

Karl knew he could lose his mind time traveling, but hadn't realized he could also lose his life. Karl awakens in an unfamiliar room. Two unfamiliar voices speak to him through soft whispers and echoing, combining tones because two certain immortals refuses to let this happen this way.

-

“I see the player you mean. ” A voice spoke,

“Karl?” Another voice said,

They were echoing down the tall hallways of whatever dark and gloomy mansion Karl had ended up in. He couldn’t pinpoint the location of the source of them. They were omnipotent and bouncing around the nearly empty tiled room. The ends of the room were hard to even see, so he began to stumble towards a candle set on a table. He was secretly hoping if he held it he’d be able to have some sort of guide to fight back against the darkness that surrounded everything around him.

“ Yes. Take care. It has reached a higher level now. It can read our thoughts. ”

“That doesn't matter. It thinks we are part of the game.”

“ I like this player. It played well. It did not give up.”

-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761848

[ataykiri]

,

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 33- One For Two

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The architechs face their most dangerous battle yet, alone against the Magistrate himself. 

And not all survive.

Warning: This chapter features major character death (temporary), blood, impalement, and other dark themes of death. Please use caution proceeding

______________________________________

“Mumbo? Mumbo wake up.” Grian hisses, his wings puffing up at the sound he hears in the distance. Iskall has already run out of the tent the architechs were in, going in search of the noise. But nothing can muster consciousness from his best friend, and unfortunately Grian must resort to ulterior measures.

 He drags Mumbo’s bedroll out of the tent, clambering to hold the limp form. And takes off into the air. The sudden jolt skyward does wake Mumbo up, and he sheds his bedroll like a butterfly from it’s cocoon. “G-Grian, put me down! This wasn’t funny the first time, it’s not funny now!” 

“Maybe if you weren't’ such a spoon and wake up this wouldn’t happen. Iskall and I heard something. It was getting closer, so he went to look.” Grian chuckles, and can’t help but give Mumbo another scare. He lets go of the multi-mage, but only for a second. Less than that, before he grabs hold of Mumbo by the pits. His cackle is only as loud as Mumbo’s scream, and they both return to the ground. 

The nice, safe, hard ground. Mumbo is still trying to reclaim his heartbeat, though the sound of lightning crashing nearby does little to help. A second later, Iskall runs from the brush of the forest. “It’s a husk, a nue.” 

As if in response to Iskall’s words, an eerie cry bounces off the bark and through the canopy. All three architechs are attracted to the bonechilling noise, the magic of the beast calling them closer. “We have to find it- there has to to be a reason a husk would be here.” Grian states, picking up the pace, following the noise through the forest. Leading him deeper. “Maybe there’s a crystal, or something that Dolios is doing here.” 

Iskall chases after Grian, after the noise, and Mumbo stumbles after them, taking up the rear. Sometimes he catches just a glimpse of the beast, the grey and black stripes or the snake tail passing between brambles and bushes. He can’t stop himself from following the beast, the whimpering cry luring them all deeper and deeper into the woods.Until the trees part, and the moonless sky opens up. 

And sitting in the center of the clearing, an enormous, ebony gem eeks it’s black tendrils into the verdant grass. Iskall peers into the darkness, noting how little the crystal has spread the dark magic. “It’s brand new. It was just placed here.” 

“Perhaps the nue was it’s first victim.” Mumbo shakes his head. 

“Or it was sent with the crystal to protect it as it made root.” Grian adds, stepping forward. His wings ruffle, the feeling of being watched a second too late. 

“Neither, as a matter of fact. It was purely to lure you in.” His voice is so clear, so crisp, running ice down their spines. They turn, eyes settling on Magistrate Dolios and his charismatic, calm smile. He’s sitting on a rock, resting against the boulder like it’s a throne, cheek pressed against the palm of his hand and legs crossed. He almost looks bored, would it not be for the easy smile, the hunger in his eyes. The nue appears beside the magistrate, smoke and ash billowing from the fragmented figure. Dolios reaches out, fingers running from the glowing white eyes of the monkey head, running down the spine, before twisting the cobra tail between his fingers. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? A fresh crystal, ready to gather as much magic as it can hold.”

Iskal summons his magic, iskallium energy ricocheting up his arm as he stands ready for battle. “I’m going to destroy that crystal. Then, we’ll destroy you.” 

Dolios’s smile never fades, even as he shakes his head. “You never stop, do you? These past few weeks, you and your band of heathens have been going all over Lairyon, destroying all my hard work. These crystals are important to me, you know. I can’t just replace every last one in the blink of an eye. It takes time.” Dolios stands, striding past the three. The purple fabric of his robes dance along the grass, sauntering to stand before the crystal. “But I’m quite proud of this one. It took me weeks, and you get the honor of being the first people to see it work.” 

Mist swirls from the stone, then strikes out. Like whips, they bend around their master, who continues to smile with his hands tucked behind his back. Grian bowls to the side, knocking Mumbo out of the way before the magic can take hold. Iskall lets loose the ball of energy, sending it flying into the mist. Dispersing it, and crashing into the crystal. Another attack, this time with Grian warding off the magic. In a heavy beat of his wings, slashing the air with wind, he skips above Dolios and the gem, flanking him from the side. 

Dolios shakes his head, not focused on Grian or Iskall. His eyes remain trained on Mumbo, who’s  struggling just to summon his magic. “So much magic, wasted in such a pathetic form. You don’t even know what to do with it all. I don’t need your magic- just the power.” He looks over his shoulder, stepping aside when another sheer wind threatens to even ruin his hair. “The angel, on the other hand. What I wouldn't give for his magic in my repertoire.” 

“You’re no  multi-mage!” Iskall shouts, throwing a rod of iskallium at Dolios’s feet. Giving Mumbo a second to flee, to focus on his magic. “You’re just a mega thief of doom!” 

“Quite the hyperbolic speech, young man.” Dolios snickers, grabbing Iskall by the arm with nothing more than his mind. No matter how hard iskall fights, he can’t get free. “An S-Class of your caliber is quite enticing as well. This whole team you’ve got is stronger than most of those idiots that call themselves the Council.” 

Iskall continues to fight for his freedom, while Grian is battling off the mist that threatens to engulf his friend. Dolios is so focused on capturing Grian, on draining Iskall’s lifeforce that he’s completely ignored Mumbo. Why would he bother? Mumbo can’t even summon his magic at will. 

But if there’s one way to bring Mumbo’s powers to fruition, it’s hurt his friends. Black mist squeezes past the winds that flow from Grian’s wings, striking through Iskall like an arrow through the chest. Iskall stumbles, skin growing grey and pale, flaky. He continues to fight through the pain, despite his strength being sapped. 

Mumbo’s shaking hands go through the motions of summoning his magic. Palms out, coming together and fingers blooming like a flower- or a redstone circuit. Driving his magic from within, organizing it in a way he can control, until the circle glows bright and lightning appears in his hands. 

No one hurts Mumbo’s friends. He gives Dolios a taste of his own medicine, sending the bolt of lightning straight into his chest. Dolios stumbles backwards. Red appears beneath the blue capelet, burn marks and blood crawling from the magistrate’s neck. He turns, eyes boring into Mumbo’s soul, and for a second Mumbo worries if Dolios can drain his power just by looking at him- like a gorgon or something. Dolios only chuckles, brushing his hand and waving the mist away. “I knew it was in there somewhere. You’re just too weak and naive to find true power. Unlike me.” Dolios summons his circle, dark magic coursing through each skittering line and curve. “Don’t make me waste my time on you, I still have to steal the angel’s magic. Just become a good, useful husk alongside your fri-” 

The sound of cracking silences Dolios. The magic circle disappears, the magistrate whipping his curly ponytail around to see what is going on behind him. 

He was so busy berating Mumbo, he didn’t notice Grian and Iskall. Despite Iskall’s weakened state, looking almost husklike, the two S-Class wizards pool together their magic, and launch it into the iskallium spike thrust into the core of the gem. 

It shatters to pieces, fragments raining down over Mumbo and Dolios. The dark magic fizzles and dies, the energy stored in the gem returning to the earth. Where it belongs, rather than trapped in Dolios’s machinations. 

But with each crystal fading back to it’s milky quartz color, the magistrate’s eyes grow darker. An anger fills his eyes, turning his smile into a sneer, lips curling and bearing perfect white teeth. Iskall laughs, whooping and dancing. He already feels so much better, the rosy color returning to his cheeks and the brown of his beard flourishing. “Take that, creep!”

Dolios stares at the broken crystal, then drags his gaze to the architechs. “Do you know how long that took me to corrupt? And you two cretins destroy it on it’s maiden voyage?” He chuckles and closes his eyes. Sts a hand against the sun-shaped clasp at his throat. “I’ll admit, there’s more power in you than I thought, Iskall. Your strength would have been so filling for me and my creation, you’d make such a good husk. Shame I have to kill you now.” 

His eyes snap open, the hungry fervor for blood filling the ambered blue eyes. A predator stalking it’s prey, cornering it for the final blow. His smile holds no joy, none of the calm, charming light it masked the monster with. Now it was a cold snarl, teeth baring for his quarry.

Without a snap or a wave of his hand, Dolios’s circle appears and is cast. Power surges around the magistrate. He crosses the length of the clearing in two long strides. Grabbing Iskall by the collar and pinning him against a tree. “Why don’t you just hang awhile, Iskall?” 

Dolios steps back, a branch has grown through Iskall. Bloodsoaked leaves and wood snagged through clothes. Iskall no longer struggles. He no longer spits curses or taunts. His head is limp, eyes closed. 

Horror is written across Mumbo and Grian’s face. They knew Dolios was a murderer, a monster that was leading all of Lairyon behind a veil of prosperity, but to see it in action…

And he wasn’t done. He turns, and advances towards Mumbo. Grian tries to stop him, blowing gale force wind, but Dolios raises his hand. The blades of grass grow, forming a wall between him and Grian. Not even the feather shaped throwing knives could penetrate the greenery. 

A scream echoes the clearing.

Then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. From behind the grassy screen, Dolios steps over a limp hand, redstone mixed with blood. The grass shrivels and dies, revealing Mumbo’s body. Despite the blood on his throat, Mumbo’s mustache was still perfectly combed. “Mumbo?” Grian whimpers, “Mumbo wake up.”

A weak whimper escapes Grian, forced to stare at his two best friends dead before him. And him- the guild healer- was unable to stop it. Grian’s vision turns red and purple. Dolios digs his shoes into Grian’s gut, sending him sprawling across the ground. “Now that they’re cared for, let’s get onto more important matters.” 

“I’ll cut you down!” Grian shouts, rising to his feet. Not a thought in his head, singularly focused on one thing- avenge his fallen brethren. One moment, Grian is halfway across the clearing. The next, his fist is colliding with Dolios, the force of a hurricane behind him. As his hand collides with Dolios, a crack of thunder echoes from the storm above. Summoned by Grian’s magic, the anger boiling with his blood. 

Lightning cascades from the sky. Ripping through the air, directed towards the magistrate. Volts of electricity barreling to destroy him where he stumbles back from the punch. 

The lightning strikes. 

Not Dolios. A shimmer of light ripples between the bolt and the magistrate, magical shield turning the lightning back on it’s wizard. The bolt bounces off the light shield, and strikes into Grian’s chest. One second Grian is standing, ready for any battle that Dolios offers. The next, he’s on the ground, body spasming against the shocks that run across his nerves, burns spreading from the impact. “You’re different from the last angel.” Dolios muses, snapping his finger. The husk nue, disappeared in the night until needed by it’s master, presses massive clawed feet onto Grian. Dragging sharp claws into his back and wounding him further. The primate face snarls, foaming for the hope to rip Grian to shreds. “At least you had the dignity to stand and fight. But in the end, I always get my quarry.”

Dolios turns away, flicking his hair over his shoulder and peeking back at Grian. And he starts to walk away. The shadow beast disappears, returning to it’s master’s side. Grian struggles to rise. “Where...get back here! I’m not done with you!” 

“No, but I am done with you. You’ve lost, little bird. You know where to find me- make it easier for yourself, and come without a fight. You’ve lost, just accept it.” Dolios turns away, stepping out of the clearing. 

And Grian is left alone. Left in the destruction, the death. Left in the shattered pieces of the crystal and his life. Left with himself, the only living soul, surrounded by his dead friends. Tears mix with blood, his chest aching and pain growing as he  heaves a sob up his throat before ripping across his lips. They lost. They may have destroyed the crystal, but Dolios got away, leaving only destruction and death in his wake. Like the very magic he spreads across Lairyon. 

Grian stumbles to his feet, his muscles refusing to work against the pain of the lightning bolt and the overwhelming grief. Blood falling from his back, strength sapping away. But this doesn’t have to be the end. Not for Grian, not for Iskall or Mumbo. Grian is a sky angel- a healer beyond all mortals. He just has to be fast enough, strong enough. 

He pulls Iskall free, collapsing under the weight and sorrow. Rolling his friend over, he places his hand on Iskall’s chest and focuses in.

 Light radiates from Grian, and halo appearing over his matted, bloody hair. His wings triple, spreading wide and exuding blinding energy. Each feather is alight in a holy flame, rays beaming from the halo and glowing white eyes opening. The angelic magic twists and dances down from Grian’s wings, running over his own wounds from battle and pulsating through to Iskall. 

Pain sears up Grian’s body, but he ignores it to focus on Iskall. Beneath his hands, Grian feels the wound close. Shrink until all that’s left is a raised scar. And then a heartbeat. Iskall’s chest rises and falls, shallow at first but growing deeper with each new breath. From the clutches of death. Iskall bolts upright, his dying cry falling from his lips. Faced with the sight of Grian’s archangel aura blinding him. 

Grian doesn’t pause, wings beating against the air and ground. He rises into the air, swooping over to Mumbo. Hands shaking, placing gentle fingers against the wound on Mumbo’s neck. Light sweeps from wings to fingertips, cascading across Grian’s own mortal wounds. Light as bright as the noonday sun, ebbing from Grian’s body and flowing into Mumbo’s corpse. 

A gasping breath rasps through Mumbo’s rattled body. He aches, his throat burning like he just choked on something dry and was whipped by a mishappen hand against his adam’s apple. Bright light blinds him. He blinks away the spots in his vision, hand reaching for his throat.

The last thing he remembers is something sharp against his skin, and the Magistrate’s cold, sharp grin in his vision. He doesn’t even know what happened to him until he sits up. Iskall nearly barrels him over, voice swirling around Mumbo but never really reaching him, just a din of death and decay. 

He died. Dolios killed him. Killed Iskall, then him. Cut them down without ever easing his smile. So how is Mumbo still alive? He and Iskall both look around, searching for their healer. They discover Grian crumpled between them both. The halo above his head shatters, light fading and feathers falling apart in the wind. Blood pools beneath Grian, his breath faint, eyes closed. Mumbo presses shaking, pale, cold fingers on the fallen angel’s chest. 

Nothing. No, wait. It’s still there. But faint. 

Iskall and Mumbo don’t waste a second. With Iskall carrying Grian, the architechs flee the forest. Begging for Grian to hold on, just a little longer.

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

Walking away from the clearing, Dolios smiles. That cool, calm smile he knows all of Lairyon is addicted to. Deceived by. He doesn’t need to deal with dragging Grian back to the nearest crystal- he’ll give himself up. Just like they all do, when their hopes are crushed and left with only giving up. Giving in to Dolios. He’ll turn himself in, and save Dolios so much time and effort. 

And Dolios cannot wait to finally have angel magic. He won’t waste such rare, unique abilities by simply sapping Grian’s lifeforce, turning him to a husk. No, he intends to take the magic for his own. Leaving nothing left but sky angel magic. His to claim, growing his repertoire. 

Dolios laughs, and places two crossed fingers over the golden sun that clasps his cape together. “That cretin that calls himself an angel is being quite the nuisance. But alas, I will succeed in taking his magic. And you would want me to succeed, right dear friend?”

He may have won this battle, but the war is far from over. Dolios’s smile fades. They’re getting too strong. Even with those three out of his way, he needs to deal with the hermits. 

Directly

[walkineternity]

Day 5: Gun Point

((Forever (TV 2014))

All in all, Jo had taken the whole ‘immortality’ thing rather well.

Henry had stammered through a rather confusing explanation, that jumped back and forth between subjects. He had been desperate to get her to believe him, the whole wild tale, but he had seemed to be sabotaging himself.

 Then Abraham, probably fed up with his dad, had decided that Jo needed more photo evidence and brought out some old family albums. Henry had the tendency to be behind the camera, so most of the pictures were of a young Abe and Abigail, but there were still plenty of pictures of him. Enough that Jo seemed to believe him.

 “To be honest, Henry, this explains a lot,” she had said, looking a little wide-eyed. “Its…its an amazing story, and I’m feeling…. a bit like finding out Santa Claus is actually real…but,” and here she paused to finish off her third glass of wine, “I can’t ignore the facts staring me in the face. There were too many coincidences and excuses that never added up. This…shit. This just fits.”

 Henry had been terrified to tell anyone his secret, let alone someone he…. cared about. It never seemed to work out. But Jo, bless her, seemed to recover from her shock fairly quickly.

 The wine, which was Abe’s idea, definitely seemed to help.

 The first week she had kept coming back with questions, eventually making a list and going down it like she was interviewing someone at her job. Henry humoured her, at first a bit reluctantly, but gradually opening up in the face of her earnestness and…well. He never really got a chance to talk about this sort of thing with anyone, and it helped that Jo, despite eagerness and curiosity, never pushed on anything he didn’t want to answer.

 Eventually her questions slowed down and then, to Henry’s surprise, he found that it was business as usual. Their friendship seemed stronger than ever and this translated into working really well together at work. Henry thought it was good before, but for the first time in a while, he felt…lighter.

 The others seemed to pick up on the easy atmosphere and that seemed to lift their spirits too. Henry had been so frightened…. but having Jo ‘in the know’, so to speak, was like having backup. He didn’t have to watch everything he said around her. He could ask her for help with more modern technology without feeling embarrassed. He could look at picture and tell her about a memory that it sparked, without changing details or worrying that she would think he was crazy.

 Abe was almost insufferable through this. It seemed every time Henry turned around in their home, Abe was shooting him a knowing smirk. Finally, Henry snapped and said, “Yes, Abraham. I get it. You were right about everything. I should have listened to you.”

 “Aw, dad,” he sighed, smirk softening into a genuine smile, not afraid of Henry’s ire in the least. “You know I’m just happy for you, right?”

 Henry never could stay mad at his son.

 So, naturally, just when Henry was letting his guard down, that’s when things went wrong.

 They had been trailing after a man named Justin White, 38, suspected of fatally stabbing his girlfriend in their flat two days ago. The evidence was overwhelming, and as soon as they found him, he had bolted.

 So here they were, evening, chasing the rather fit man through back alleys. Jo had told Henry to split up, to try to cut him off, but to let her actually confront him. Henry had wanted to protest, but she had already taken off.

 So, he went around and managed to actually get in front of White, but did not expect to be met with the barrel of a gun.

 “Stay back, or I’m going to blow your head off!”

 Henry barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How original, he thought sarcastically. Outwards, he turned his palms upwards in a placatingly gesture, and said, “Alright, Mr. White. I’m not moving. You don’t need to use that.”

 Jo had caught up when he was speaking and had her own gun pointed at White. “Justin, put the gun down now!”

 White whipped around to look at her, the gun still on Henry, but his next words directed at her, “I swear to god I will shoot him! I’m not going to jail!”

 Jo looked worried. Henry wondered why. She knew that even if Henry was shot, it wasn’t going to be permanent. He decided to remind her, “Detective! Arrest him! Don’t worry about me!”

 “Shut the fuck up!” White screamed

 Jo looked like she wanted to tell Henry the same thing, which was disappointing. He thought they were on the same page, finally. “You cannot let him get away with this. She was only 28, Jo. She didn’t deserve to be murdered by this man. We have to get justice!” And here he stepped towards the suspect.

 Jo and White spoked at the same time:

 “Don’t move!”

 Jo sounded worried and perhaps a little angry. White just sounded desperate.

 Jo looked at White and said, “Justin, just put the gun down. No one else needs to get hurt.”

 “I didn’t mean to! I just got so angry!” He cried. The gun wavered frantically. The man was unhinged. “I thought she was cheating on me! She just made me so mad! But I didn’t mean to, I didn’t!”

 Jo looked grim. Henry decided to speak up again. “You stabbed her sixteen times, Mr. White. That was no accident.” His voice grew an edge. “You killed her for nothing. You deserve to rot in a jail cell and we’re the ones to put you there.”

 He stepped forward again, but this proved to be the last straw for Justin White. He pulled the trigger, and shot Henry in the chest. Henry felt the impact like a punch, and heard another gunshot.

 He looked over at Jo in fear, but the small movement seemed to unbalance him and he collapsed onto the ground. Ah. There was the pain.

 The medical side of his brain started to catalogue the injury, and knew that he was going to die in minutes. He tried to breathe in, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Getting shot never got easier. He was only trying to…he hoped Jo was okay.

 “Shit, Henry, shit!” There she was. Her face loomed over his, but he couldn’t seem to focus on any details of her face. She sounded upset.

 “I-It’s okay…. Jo, it’s o-okay. F-find Abe,” he couldn’t breathe. Oh, he couldn’t breathe. He hated this part of dying. He felt like he was drowning. It was most likely blood filling his lungs. “H-He’ll…. tell…y-you…” He felt wetness on his face. He wasn’t crying, was he? It was hard to focus. He felt Jo take one of his hands, and it grounded him enough to realise, no, he wasn’t crying.

 Jo was.

 She was leaning far enough over him that her tears were falling onto his face. He tried to reach up, but his body wasn’t co-operating. Blackness crept onto the edge of his vision. He felt so cold.

 “Jo, p-please…I….be b-back…w-wait…for me…”

 And then nothing.

 And then the coldness and darkness of the lake.

 And then he was breaking the surface and sucked in the sweet, frigid air.

 Henry started to make his was to the shoreline, where he could see Abe standing with clothes. Oh, thank god. He didn’t want to get picked up for indecency again. And…Jo was with him.

 He thinks back to tears on his cheek that weren’t his, and realises perhaps that he was missing something. Death and he were old friends, but Jo…despite knowing he would come back, was unused to such a thing.

 She had reacted so well, that in his elation, he didn’t think how awful it must be to be on the outside of it. To see a friend in such pain and not being able to do anything about it.

 He suddenly felt very, very young. Like a schoolboy waiting to see the headmaster. He could see from his position, getting closer, Jo had her hands on her hips. He couldn’t yet make out her expression.

 Yes. They…. needed to talk.

 For now, though, the chill of the water was setting in. The ghost of a gunshot wound throbbed in his chest, and he felt the strain of his muscles with every stroke.

 For now, he was alive. And loved ones waited for him on the shore. It was time to go home.

[jennoasis]

Please, Not Him

“Give me some credit, Hale. Do you really think I’d leave him alive?” The man laughed, motioning to the bloody mess that was Stiles’ body. “You did this to him. You wouldn’t give in to temptation, even after he confessed his feelings to you. You killed him, Derek Hale, by not being there to protect him, just like you failed so many others. Now you have no one.” Derek jolted up in bed but found Stiles’ wrapped around him. “Der? You were having a nightmare.” A nightmare, just a nightmare. Derek turned and held on to Stiles, needing the comfort.

    Someone is going to think I got body-swapped considering I never write angst lol. But it was just a nightmare to technically angst that only happened in a nightmare? (No one kill me lol) Today’s words from @sterekdrabbles are: tempt(I used temptation), bloody, credit and man am I tempted to continue on this lol.

[raewrites98]

Anything For You

Read on AO3  Warnings: Graphic Violence, Temporary Character Death Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood 

Thorns scratch at Alec’s skin, branches and leaves hitting his face as he barrels through the Brocelind forest at an insane pace, aided by his Heightened Speed rune. Magnus is not too far behind him. They burst through the trees out into the open, where the still waters of Lake Lynn greet them.

“No one's here,” Alec pants. He spins around, glancing up and down the shore for any sign of Valentine or Jace. The lake is deserted. A chilled breeze tugs at his clothes.

“Perhaps we can set up an ambush,” Magnus muses. He scans the edge of the forest, pulling his coat tighter around him. “Though I do hope we won't regret not bringing assistance.”

“We’ll be fine.” Alec tightens the grip on his bow. They left the Institute together in search of Valentine, who made it through the Seelie Queen’s realm into Alicante. Jace and Clary have not been heard from since they left to hunt him down. While Izzy opted to stay behind and take care of the sudden demon infestation overtaking New York, Magnus would not back down.  He insisted on accompanying Alec. Now all Alec can think is that he could very well lose both Magnus and Jace in one night. “You didn't have to come with me, you know. You would have been safer at the Institute.”

“I can handle myself just fine,” Magnus sighs. “Besides, you know I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

Alec isn’t facing him, but he can hear the teasing lilt of Magnus’ words. His heart gives a painful squeeze. By the angel, how he’s missed Magnus. Their fights have been distracting him. He can’t focus on his work or his family. Everything he does is with Magnus at the front of his mind.

“Listen, Magnus.” Alec inhales slowly. Against better judgement, he unleashes the torrent of emotions stirring within his chest. “I know this isn’t the best time, but I need you to know that I’m sorry.” Silence meets his rushed apology. He rambles on. “I shouldn’t have lied to you about the Soul Sword. It was stupid and wrong and I would give anything to change what I did.”

No reply. His heart drops to his stomach. Of course. It was foolish of him to think Magnus would be so forgiving after Alec shattered his trust. He had gone too far this time. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alec turns around.

A thin stream of blood drips down Magnus’ chin. The tip of a seraph blade protrudes from his chest, red blooming across his shirt. His eyes are wide and unglamoured. A wet gasp is punched from his throat when Valentine, who appears from behind him, removes the blade and shoves him forward.

“Magnus,” Alec cries out. He drops his bow as he rushes to catch him. They sink to the ground, Alec cradling Magnus in his arms.

Magnus coughs. “Alec,” he gasps. His trembling hand comes up to clasp Alec’s shirt.

They are surrounded by Circle members. Valentine watches them with thinly-veiled disgust.  He wipes the seraph blade off on his pants and throws it aside. “I apologize for ruining the moment, but I couldn’t let you interfere with my plans for the evening.” He then produces the Mortal Cup and Soul Sword from a sack.

Alec doesn’t even spare him a glance. He shoves his hands onto Magnus’ wound, pushing down in an attempt to stop the bleeding. His resolve cracks when Magnus lets out a hoarse cry, face twisting in pain. Blood pulses through the gaps in Alec’s fingers. His vision blurs. This can’t be happening. Please let this be a dream.

“Alexander,” Magnus slurs. “It’s okay.” His skin is cold and pale, chest heaving with desperate, painful breaths. His hand comes up to wipe Alec’s cheek. Only then does Alec realize tears are streaming down his face.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Alec rambles, ignoring the looming sense of dread growing in his stomach. “You’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn. You’re not that easy to get rid of, remember?” He tries to force a laugh. His face crumples. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispers.

“Using my words against me isn’t fair,” Magnus says with a wet chuckle. He coughs deep from within his chest. His brow furrows as he blinks slowly.

Alec chokes back a sob. “You leaving me isn’t fair.” He wipes the sweat from his brow and repositions his hands. It doesn’t help. Blood won't stop flowing from the wound. "Just stay with me, okay?”

“Alexander.” Magnus smiles at him with blood-stained lips, a distant look in his eyes. He caresses Alec’s face. “I love you.” His gaze drifts off, over Alec’s shoulder and to the midnight sky above. His hand hits the ground.

“No,” Alec cries.  No, no, no. He hurries to grab the fallen hand and holds it to his lips. “Magnus, look at me, please.” He tilts Magnus’ head, but it lolls in his grasp. “Look at me,” he begs.

There is no response. Magnus’ eyes are empty.

Alec’s heart shatters. He cries until his throat burns. He rocks them back and forth, holding Magnus close to his chest.

His eyes drift up to see Valentine drop the Mortal Instruments into the lake, the water sizzling as they sink to the bottom. He clenches his jaw. Heat rises to his face and his broken heart pounds furiously in his ears.

Alec snaps. He lunges for the abandoned seraph blade and swings it in one smooth motion across the first Circle member’s neck. Blood sprays in his face. He kicks another in the gut, followed by three quick stabs to the chest. Sweat drips down his brow. His hands shake. The two remaining Circle members surround him.

A sudden burst of golden fireworks lights the sky, water splashing across the shore. Shooting up from the depths of Lake Lynn, two enormous wings unfold. Angel Raziel stands before them.

Alec uses the distraction to make quick work of the other shadowhunters. He stabs one in the throat. He smashes the other head-first onto a large rock, his skull hitting the stone with a sickening crack. Alec turns, glancing around. He finds Valentine. The man stands with arms spread, crying out to the angel as he basks in the rays of golden light.

Alec sees red. He shoves Valentine away from the lake.

Valentine is quick to rise. He grins, his eyes narrowing. “I should have known better than to underestimate a Lightwood.” He unsheathes the dagger at his side.

They dance around each other, blades gleaming in the angelic glow. Alec’s muscles are cement blocks weighing him down. His movements are sluggish, but the all-consuming ache in his chest fuels his rage. He drives Valentine back with each vicious swing of his blade, once, twice. Further and further into the water, until they stand knee-deep in Lake Lynn.

“You would have been a good addition to my army,” Valentine spits. “Too bad you seem so intent on joining that Downworlder in the afterlife.”

Alec’s blood boils. “His name is Magnus,” he roars. With all his might, he kicks Valentine in the chest. Valentine stumbles backwards. Alec thrusts his seraph blade deep in the man’s stomach. He pulls back and stabs again. And again. And again.

And then it is still not enough.

He drops the weapon and shoves Valentine down, forcing his head underwater. Bubbles float to the surface. Valentine thrashes around in Alec’s grasp, his blunt nails clawing at Alec’s arms. The water muffles his cries for help. Alec tightens his grip.

The thrashing suddenly stops. Valentine’s hands fall into the lake with a splash.

Panting, Alec releases the lifeless body. He stumbles back as a sudden rush of exhaustion hits him. He drags himself to shore, breath catching in his throat as he sees Magnus lying on the cold, muddy ground. He pulls himself up to his knees. With shaking hands, he brushes a strand of hair off Magnus’ forehead. “Please, wake up,” he whispers. A fresh wave of tears threaten to fall down his face. This can’t be real. Magnus can’t be dead. He can’t just leave Alec like this, alone and lost. Alec needs Magnus. He can’t live without him.

A flash of gold catches his attention. Raziel is still hovering above the water, undisturbed by the tragedy that unfolds before him. Silence hangs thick in the air.

Alec looks back at Magnus’ pale lips and lifeless eyes.

He makes his decision.

“Angel Raziel,” Alec cries out as he climbs the scattering of rocks along the shore, picking up a seraph blade along the way.

“A nephilim, true of heart,” the angel’s voice lilts curiously. “What is it you desire, Alexander Gideon Lightwood?”

Alec swallows. A flood of memories washes over him. Kissing Magnus at his own wedding. The two of them caught up in a game of pool at the Hunter’s Moon. Alec losing his breath at the sight of Magnus’ real eyes. “I want to make a wish.”

“Thou who spills thy blood shall compel from me one action,” Raziel replies.

Alec grits his teeth and meets the angel’s radiant gaze. “Bring Magnus Bane back to life.” He drags the sharp edge of the blade over his palm, letting the blood run down his hand.

As soon as the first drop hits the water, Raziel disappears, swallowing the light along with him. The temperature drops immediately. A chill runs down Alec's spine. He doesn’t dare leave the rocks. What if his wish isn’t granted? What if he turns to see Magnus lying there, cold and unresponsive and -

A sudden gasp cuts through the heavy silence.

Alec rushes to the ground. He drops to his knees next to Magnus.

Magnus’ eyes open slowly, irises beautiful and golden as ever. “Alexander?” he slurs.

The weight of the world falls from Alec’s shoulders. “It worked.” Laughter bubbles up in his throat. He hides his face in Magnus’ neck, listening to the steady beat of his heart.  It worked it worked it worked.

Magnus leans into the touch. He feels at the skin under his blood-soaked shirt. Only a thin white scar is left from the fatal wound. He looks up at Alec, confused. “How?”

“I thought you were gone,” Alec rasps. “I had to do it, Magnus. I had to. I can’t live without you.” He grasps Magnus shirt, pulling him closer.

Magnus hands, warm and oh so soft, clasp Alec’s face. His fingers dig into the hair at Alec's nape. “What did you do, Alexander?” Magnus asks quietly.

“I used the wish," Alec swallows. “I used the wish to bring you back.”

Magnus stares at him. “You did that…” His bottom lip trembles. “You did that for me?”

“Of course, Magnus.” Alec looks at him like it is the simplest thing in the world. “I would do anything for you.”

[authorluvgxbby]

Looking At Me

Prompt: Tokyo Revengers boys caught you staring at them 

Genre: fluff, sickly romantic?

Warnings: None except for y/n being a slight pervert in Mitsuya’s part sorry not sorry

Characters Includes: Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Baji, Mitsuya

A/N: heyyy luvs, I’m back in the saddle lol. Just wanted to share some 3 AM thoughts that I had wrote up! I’m considering making more parts of this cuz this had me running LAPS 🫠, feel free to tell me what you think! Also, thank you all so much for the appreciation of my posts, you all are the best, enjoy!

Parts:

Part 1    Part 2 

“And then ken-chin was like-hey, y/n, are you listening to me?” Mikey asks, tilting his head up to look at you as he adjusts his position from where he layed in your lap. Silence was your only response as you continued to gaze at him with nothing but love. Gently, he reaches a hand to your face, delivering feathery touches to your cheek. You hummed at his soft gesture, placing your hand over his own. “Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention.” You breathe out, snapping out of your love-sick daze. Pouting, he’s quick to sit up and turn his full attention to you, “What? The whole time?” You couldn’t help but giggle at his puppy-like nature. “You were just so cute, I couldn’t help myself Mikey,” you confessed, smiling as your boyfriend’s cheeks sprouted red at your sudden confession. He’s quick to bury his flushed face into the crook of your neck, pulling you into a messy hug that causes the both of you to topple back down on the couch with him on top of you. “Why do you have to be so cute all the time?” he whines, burrowing his face deeper into you as you laugh at your boyfriend’s soft nature.

Draken grunts softly as he straightens his posture after three long hours of tinkering with the bike he had been working on. “Hey babe, could you pass me that wrench from the toolbox over there?” he groans, stretching out once more from his hunched-over position. When he doesn’t hear your usual “yes baby” or “ok kenny” he turns over to where you were seated at on the stool that wasn’t too far from where he was working, only to be met with your fixated orbs on him. You were hunched over with your elbows propped on your knees and hands holding your face. Raising a brow, he walks over to you and gently pinches your cheek, “Angel?” Feeling the soft tug on the side of your face, you snap back to reality, and are met with your boyfriend’s questioning gaze. “Hm? Yes?,” you asked, straightening yourself up as you looked at the blonde’s questioning gaze. “How long have you been staring like that?” he asks, tugging your arms to pull you up into a strong embrace. You grin, resting your head against his firm chest. “Is it wrong for me to admire my hard-working boyfriend?” you hum, grin growing wider as you listen to the sudden rapid heartbeat of your tall lover. Clearing his throat, he tightens his grip on your waist. “N-not at all, I was just worried s’all,” he mutters.

“Thanks, come again soon!” Chifuyu chimes from behind the counter as he waves off another customer of the pet shop. Sighing, he turns his attention to you, where you sat on a chair, cross-legged with mischievous, narrowed eyes. He slightly jolts at your sudden trained gaze on him. “y-y/n?” he calls out, snapping you out of your trance. You smile sweetly at the sound of your name being called from the dark-haired male. “Yes, love?” “How long have you been staring at me like that?” he asks, relaxing his temporary tense muscles as he makes his way over to where you were sitting, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not long enough,” you smirk, throwing him a wink. Chifuyu gawks before quickly covering his now reddened ears at your remark. “Baby!” he groans. You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the warmth spread from the tips of his ears to across his face. “I love you~,” you coo, blowing him a kiss. You certainly would be the death of him.

You sigh, as you continue to observe Baji from afar as he talks with the other division captains of Toman. You sat fully on Baji’s bike, leaning over the front of the bike with elbows propped on either side of the bars as you held your face up to admire your long-haired lover. You could never get over the fact of how handsome Baji looked with his hair out, of course with the complement of his gang uniform as well. You couldn’t help but grin like an idiot as you let your mind wander in your thoughts as to how in the world you got so lucky to be with someone as sweet as Baji. Despite his violent nature when he is in fights, he never fails to be as gentle and caring towards you. Even when you first met him, he had been nothing but a gentleman to you. “Hey…y/n?” a waving hand enters your field of vision hearing the familiar voice of Mitsuya, you slightly jolt up from your dazed state as you turn your head to the side to face a smirking Mitsuya. “You’re so obvious, why not just take a picture of him? It would last longer.”  he snickers. You glare at him, landing a hard smack to his arm. “I’m her boyfriend, she doesn’t need a picture if I’m around her all the time.” Chimes the familiar, aggressive voice you knew all too well. Before you know it, a warm hand is tugging at your chin, turning your head to face none other than your boyfriend. “Don’t worry babe, you can stare at me whenever you feel like it,” he smirks, gently thumbing over your plump lips. 

Mitsuya always looked so sexy when he was concentrating on his work, but the price for the nice view was such a mighty one. It was such a shame that he seemed to pay more attention to pieces of fabric than you. Huffing, you couldn’t help but glare daggers at the flimsy inanimate objects that Mitsuya had been toying with on the model mannequin for the past few hours, not even realizing that you have been eyeing him the whole time. You even had the chance to admire his butt from where you sat, not that you were complaining, but it was frustrating when you weren’t being acknowledged by your workaholic lover. Unconsciously, a slightly high-pitched whine reverberates from your throat, snapping Mitsuya out of his focused zone, turning his full attention to you. Smiling he calmly walks over to you, reaching a hand to cup your pouting face, “Yes, honey?” he coos, the nickname causing butterflies to flutter your stomach. “You’ve been neglecting me Takashi, I bet you haven’t even noticed me at all” you cry out, earning a chuckle from the calm male. Leaning over you, he uses his other hand to hold himself up using the amrest of the chair, while the hand he had on your cheek wanders under your chin, tilting your head up as he inches his face closer to your own, giving you a better look of his handsome features. His gaze flickers back and forth from your mouth to your eyes, slowly leaning in next to the side of your growing crimson face, breath fanning against your ear, “Oh, my love, you mean how you’ve been staring at me the whole time?” he asks in a husky tone.

[burninlovebutler]

Masterlist🦋💫

~🚧i know this is messy rn pls ignore it is under construction 🚧~

-> Welcome to my Blog Introduction

ao3 - BurninLove

Wattpad - FaultInMyCodes

-> Worship (Secret Santa)* - Possessive-Obsessive!Austin x Fem!Reader

-> Candy Hearts ♡ (vday)* - Sub!Austin x DomFem!Reader

-> Camp Counselors - Pt. 1 + Pt. 2 - Austin x Fem!reader

-> Talkshow Host!Austin Headcanons

Bikeriders Asshole!Austin x Makeup Artist!Reader

-> Pt. 1 *

-> Pt. 2*

-> Pt. 3*

-> Pt. 4.1 *

**last updated; 04.30.23**

-> Pt. 4.2 [coming soon]

-> Pt. 5 [coming soon]

Just an Intern Spotify Playlist ⛓️🖤

𝙸 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚣𝚣𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎'𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘

Themes: friends to lovers, SLOW burn, ANGST, eventual smut, Austin x fem!oc, midsize oc, sad boi/addict aus, fluffy, semi-AU (indie actor austin)

Summary/Intro: Best friends since college, Austin and Elsie are each other's safety nets. Austin has secrets only Elsie knows, and Elsie has too many closet skeletons for Austin to count.

Austin battles internal demons since the death of his father, which caused a switch to flip that would change him forever. His father’s death happened 4 years ago but it still haunts him – in his mind and in little pills.

Elsie has a weakness for wicked, vile, abusive men. Her boyfriend, Nox, is the latest culprit. And Austin can’t fucking stand him.  

Between trying to rescue each other and struggling to save themselves, is there something lying underneath?

18+ as this contains both smut & mature sensitive topics. Please check TWs for each chapter. General overarching warnings at the bottom of this post.

Since this is slow burn-ish so some themes/smut do not show up until later

Chapters containing smut that have * by their name

Forever Winter Spotify Playlist ❄️💞

FW Chapters:

01 - Has He Texted You?

02 - Dependency

03 - The Close Call Clause

04 - Not The First Time

05 - Fix-It Pancakes

06 - Cold Showers

07 - Giving In

08 - Of Course I Do

09 - Thanksgiving Pt. 1

10 - Thanksgiving Pt. 2

11 - Winter Break

12 - Truth or Dare

13 - Dressing Room Games

14 - Hot or Cold? *

15 - No Touching **

16 - When The Night Ends

17 - Do Not Disturb

18 - Nothing There

19 - Not Even For A Second

20 - I Know You’re Lying

21 - Blue M&Ms

22 - Christmas - Pt. 1 - (ft. The Grinch)

23 - Christmas - Pt. 2 - Comeback Special**

24 - Ski Slopes**

25 - New Years Eve (Pt. 1) - Til You Come Back for More*

26 - New Years (Pt. 2) - Say It Again**

27 - The First Close Call

28 - Temporary Fix*

29 - Be My Mistake*

30 - It's Not Living (If It's Not With You)

31 - Mr. Percocet

32 - [TBA - coming soon]

**last updated 05.31.23**

[more chapters to be announced lol]

Author’s Notes:

Each chapter will contain a related song suggestion and matching lyrics. I highly recommend listening to each song as they beautifully mesh with the themes of each individual chapter.

-

Austin/Elvis yanked me from fanfic retirement so when I started writing FW, I fell in love with the characters & the storyline. I’m posting here so that maybe others can fall in love with them too.

I haven’t written in a while so sorry if it’s a little rusty, especially in the first couple chapters.

This post ended up being really long so sorry if it was a lot, thank you if you made it this far.

I hope you love it, please let me know if you do.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

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1. hi, thank you for your efforts ❤️ i have a fic finder, because even though time travel fics should be so easy to find, i just can't find this one. wx both come back to the cloud recesses days, lwj finds out that wwx also went back bc he hears him humming/playing their song. wwx is given a dizi that has a name with 'dawn' in it i think? (by nhs who was probably the one who sent them back). they fix all the stuff of course

FOUND! The Wild Geese’s Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-it, Temporary Character Death)

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2. Hello, looking for a fic where LWJ comes to Burial Mounds and WWX & he get into a fight. It’s pretty brutal, and at some point A-Yuan arrives and is in danger so LWJ protects him getting stabbed in the progress. I think it was a fix-it au.

The fic is during burial mounds settlement days. I think during the fight WWX doesn't fight LWJ personally but calls many many corpses to do it for him.

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3. Hi there long time lurker first time requester!! Love what you do, thank you!! I’ve found so many good fics through this blog.

Ok so for my ask, it was before I had an ao3 acct so it’s no where in my history! What I remember is SOMETHING happened and Wei Wuxian, Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan get thrust into modern times. They live together and somehow find their way back? Sorry that’s not a lot to go on :/ Thanks again!! @rogue-90-em​

FOUND! This sounds a lot like atlas in his sleepin' by anatheme (E, 49k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX & JZX, fix-it, reincarnation, family reunions, dimension travel, temporary transmigrator LWJ, JC & WWX reconciliation, first time, sharing clothes, angst w/ happy ending)

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4. Hello I have been looking for this fic for awhile now and have had no luck finding it. It took place after Sunshot I believe. WWX had to marry NMJ so the wens would have a safe place to live. Later in the story LWJ in also married to NMJ and WWX.

FOUND! An Elegant Solution by giraffeter (E, 205k, niewangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fix-it, everyone lives au, courtship, polyamory, smut, Mojo’s bookmark)

NOT FOUND! Pastime (With Good Company) by nirejseki (Not rated, 25k, niewangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, WIP)

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5. Can you help find this fic? It's a modern fic about the aftermath of how wy was groomed and abused by one of jyl's friend. After getting out of that toxic relationship wy started a flower shop which his sibling try to visit frequently. Jc and lz is studying law together. I remember wy having a breakdown bcs he figured out that lz was the younger brother of lxc who was the doctor that treated him after his abused. There was also a scene where sushe harassed wy to the point of panic attack. Thanks

FOUND? #5 was written by AvoOwO on ao3 but seems to have been deleted. I think the title was something among the lines of "Daffodils to Ambrosia"?

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6. Hi! I’m looking for a fic where wangxian are both bored with their (separate) sex lives and decide to have roleplay sex with each other to liven things up. The first time they do this they pretend to be strangers in a bar. There was also one that time that was god/worshipper roleplay. It was multi chapter with each roleplay in separate chapters. Thank you so much for the help!

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7. Hey mods! There's this fic where the juniors tell mxy(wwx) that hgj is in love with another(wwx) bc they think mxy(wwx) loves hgj and don't want him to be heartbroken and turns out mxy(wwx) was actually, well, wwx lol— and after that they eavesdrop on a convo with hgj and wwx and find out mxy is actually wwx @sentientcongee​

FOUND? things we're all too young to know by someitems (T, 11k, wangxian, misunderstandings, junior shenanigans, mistaken identity, found family)

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8. Hallo! I'm trying to find a fic in which WY is a servant of the Jiangs (he is treated badly) and the Lans are guests at Lotus Pier and he walks into LZ and runs away (?) (I think he wasn't allowed to talk to anyone or was afraid he would get pubished). I have only read the first chapter and that's all I remember:/ Thank you so much!

FOUND! Flowers of pain by CorkaHadesa (M, 16k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, YZY Bashing, JC Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Bad Sibling JC, Bad Sibling JYL, Protective LWJ, Protective LXC, Protective LQR, Bad Parenting, Family Issues, Child Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Happy Ending)

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9. Hi there! I'm looking for a fic I read a while ago in which LWJ creates a new cultivation method?? IIRC WWX had been thrown into the Burial Mounds and LWJ and JC are looking for him. I don't remember any other specific details, but towards the end LWJ finally reveals his new cultivation style. I think his whole thing had to do with the earth and connecting to it?? I know it's vague but it's probably been a year since I've read it ;-;

FOUND? From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Corporal Punishment, Vomiting, Injury Recovery, Trauma, Blood Magic, Elemental Magic, Gardens & Gardening, Resurrection, Dissociation, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Language of Flowers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Arson, Now Everybody's A Rogue Cultivator, Self-Harm for Blood Magic Reasons, Suicidal Thoughts, Spiritual Coma, Brief Reference to Temporary Incontinence as a Result of Said Coma, Self-Esteem Issues)

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10. hii first of all thank you so much for your hard work!! i’ve been searching high and low for this fic in my bookmarks and can’t find it anywhere :( all i remember is that modern day wwx ends up in the past? i also remember a scene where he reunites with jyl and it’s really sweet bc the one from his universe had died i think? i hope this is enough jdhdhd

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

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11. Searching for a fic, any help would be appreciated! It was a vaguely knight-y/medieval setting, and after some shit went down, LZ was locked up and/or severely whipped by the Lans, and when the fic starts I think he's still having issues from that and traveling on his own. And then he reunites with WY - maybe I'm conflating fics, so these are just maybes, but it could be some sort of beauty and the beast situation? Or there's a moment where WY goes full-on YLLZ when he finds out how hurt LZ was.

FOUND! the necromancer's fairytale by iliacquer (E, 17k, wangxian, safe sane consensual non-con, past torture, not Lan friendly, happy ending, switch energy, rough sex, pain kink)

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12. Hi! im looking for a wangxian timetravel fic, i remember that they went back to the cloud recess arc in their old bodies and one specific detail i remember is wei wuxian changing his hair style to his future hair style because lan zhan was still doing his hair in the mornings, sorry i don't remember much else Thanks for the help!

FOUND? No, Lan Wangji, You Cannot Marry Someone You Just Met! by soulmateenthusiast (T, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Time Travel, WWX and LWJ Are Transported to the Past, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, slight angst Gratuitous Amounts of PDA, Courtesy of WangXian, BAMF!WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued)

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13. Asking this cause I lost those fic where A) Wangji was kid when got kidnapped and lives in brothel and he himself ask a witch to curse him ugly person B) Wangji is omega and lactates for A-yuan @selflovingmedj

13A)

FOUND? Turn Left by kianspo (M, 91k, WIP, WangXian, NieLan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, eventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Canon-Typical Violence, Neurodivergent LWJ, LXC is the best brother, Slow Build, Lán Family Feels, specifically, Twin Jades of Lán Feels)

13B)

FOUND? 💖 so full of love i could barely eat by cicer (E, 40k, wangxian, ABO, canon divergence, breastfeeding, lactation kink, golden core reveal, fix-it)

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14. Hi I’m looking for a fic that takes place during the CR arc and has LWJ realizing that rewarding WWX works better than punishments and I think there are some scenes that take place in the library. I can’t really remember much else so I’d appreciate the help!

FOUND? Pigtail Pulling by protos_metazu_ison (G, 3k, wangxian, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, cloud recesses shenanigans)

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15. Heyy! Im looking for a fic where wangxian went on a date(i think 1st) to a petting zoo. There what I remember the most is wwx pulling grass and lwj blurting out if he was stimming. I honestly can’t remember much. There were bunnies tho. It’s complete and i thinkk it’s part of a series! Please help me find it!!!

FOUND? 🧡#Bunny date by Onomatopoetikon (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern AU, POV LWJ, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, First Dates, First Kiss, Holding Hands, LWJ Uses Actual Words, Neurodiversity, Developing Relationship, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, Fluff, Romantic Fluff) it's part 3 of a series :)

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16. hello. i've been wondering if you could help with this: i'm not looking for a fic, but i've been wanting to write one. i remember seeing some time ago a twitter thread containing certaing details and tips for writing modern aus set in china, but i can't find it. i was hoping if any of your followers would know something

FOUND? might be this twitter moment, if not, there's still some good stuff here!

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17. Hey! I was looking for a LXC x Oc, the oc was a jin who is like what people say dumb and the summer is something along the lines "The new madam Lan got pregnant and is craving for the bunny" I forgot the whole summery but it was like that. Anyways turns out she was actually quite smart.

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18. hello, hello!! when you have a chance, i would appreciate help finding a fic!! it was modern, and the only thing i remember was probably a part towards the end, and i think wwx was kidnapped by the wens and was on top of a building, someone was shot, & i think wen chao might've fallen off the building? wwx nearly died? sorry if this is really vague, but hopefully someone recognizes it!!

NOT FOUND! 🧡The World We Made by updatebug (T, 80k, WangXian, The Old Guard fusion, Immortals, Immortal LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Junior Quartet is the best Quartet, JYL is the best, NMJ Lives, Reincarnation, Modern AU, The Old Guard AU, Team Give Xichen Nice Things, Team Unbury Your Gays, LITERALLY, Temporary Character Death) has a similar scene I think (only he gets kidnapped by JGY instead)

NOT FOUND! 🧡Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, wangxian, criminal underworld au, dark LWJ, ABO, note all tags)

could also be FOUND! Monotone, I think it’s not on ao3 directly anymore but is still available on a Google doc / the author has posted a link to monotone here / Monotone on Google docs, Anyway I think that's the shared link for #18. Pretty sure that's it. Ch. 23 Reset is WWX and Wen Chao on the roof of Nightless City. Wwx is shot and WC jumps off the edge.

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19. hello! I need help finding a fic. The only scene I can remember is the Jiang family and Lan Wangji sitting at a table (eating dinner I think) and Madam Yu says or implies something insulting/rude about Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji uses his engagement or marriage to Wei Wuxian to tell her off. Saying she has no right to say something like that about something that is his/belongs to him. I believe it was Canon era but that's about all I can remember.

FOUND! chapter 6 of 30 Days of Celebration with Yunmeng Jiang by starandrea (M, 41k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Family Drama, Telepathic Bond, Kink Negotiation, Wedding Planning, Weddings, Sibling Bonding, Fluff, Happy Ending)

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20. hi there! for the next FF, this modern-online-class au. it's in the pov of one of the students, though i remember it changes pov a lot. wangxian are professors, LSZ is in both their classes. he gets sick, and he never reveals who his parents are until WWX walks in on a call with him and his friends and they go >:0000 on him. theres a lot of student chatting. there was a scene with a student remarking on WWX's child's achievements on the wall and LSZ being extremely embarrassed about it. @revellingfate

FOUND! The Mystery of Professor Lan's and Professor Wei's private lives by SilverBells (G, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, wangxian married and have a son, online classes AU, Self Indulgent Ficlet, Fluff, University AU, Professor LWJ and Professor WWX, University second year LSZ, Humour)

NOT FOUND! Lan Jingyi and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Cursed Information by fensandmarshes (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Crack Treated Seriously, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, POV Outsider on WangXian, Crack and Humour, LJY-centric, Hijinks & Shenanigans, LWJ is a Little Bitch, College/University, Nonbinary LSZ)

NOT FOUND! Yearning by Sanguis (T, 9k, WangXian, LingYi, Modern AU, Professors, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Bunnies, Pre-Relationship, Secrets)

NOT FOUND! And They Were Married And Had a Son Series by yellowcarnations (G, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, POV Outsider, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Professors WangXian, Kid Fic)

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