#thankfully at least tumblr allows edits

[hugs-and-stabbies]

The self-awareness on this guy 😞 someone pls send him an "are you bi?" quiz STAT

#dead plate #rody lamoree #rody x vincent #vincent charbonneau #rodince #rodincent #my art #i saw someone tag one of my drawings with a version of their ship name using their last names and it was nice but i forgot what it was #aksjdhf #also NOO i forgot Rody's lil moles 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 #thankfully at least tumblr allows edits #anyways #rody looks so wonky to me but I just wanted to stop fidgeting with it and post it since i wasnt getting anywhere anyways aksjdfh #also little story time lol #when i was in 10th grade there was this girl in my chemisty class that i was kinda frienemies with #we just always got into arguments with each other but the vibe ultimately stayed light and friendly between us #kinda like a <<fuck you but anyways what did you get for no. 5>> kind of situation #one day she slammed one of her hands against the door right next to my head 😳😳 #i think she was trying to intimidate me but instead it just gave me a core memory LMAOOO #thankfully by then i already knew i wasnt straight lol but it definitely unlocked something in me hahahah

[aroaceleovaldez]

i mean it when i say we've gotta bring back askblogs. bring back making character chat posts with poor choice text colors over random backgrounds. bring back blogs dedicated to what outfits you think characters would wear.

fandom is an ecosystem, not a numbers game. these types of blogs/posts/etc still exist in concept, because people still want to make them and they're a great way to get your thoughts of an idea out in a simple format, but most people make them on like tiktok or instagram reels and that's where the problem lies. Those videos don't go anywhere. The format doesn't allow for the discussion to spread through the community and they're less likely to be engaged with in general. And to make them most people have to either show their face or figure out editing software, so the barrier to entry is higher (editing) and/or they have to forfeit an amount of privacy.

those types of posts/blogs are the first rung of the ecosystem. they're the perfect environment for younger members of the fandom to begin safely interacting with the larger community and putting their own thoughts and ideas out there. roleplay is the other major spot for that and those communities are diminishing as well, honestly (if you know of an rp forum board site, cherish it. and if you can make one, make one). they allow younger fans to begin engaging with the source material on a different/deeper level, but still at a very low barrier to entry, and begin conversations with other fans, which also helps them build skills which in turn may encourage them to pursue other avenues within the fandom (fic writing, other formats of askblog - which itself usually leads to art, cosplay, also fic writing, etc). Without those places to build those skills, they might feel discouraged from trying to begin when surrounded by curated people who have built their skills up for years.

And those conversations they foster also in turn help the community, by offering ideas to artists or fic writers to extrapolate on or building community jokes. And that text/blog format specifically is extremely beneficial, because it allows younger members of the fandom to remain anonymous and keep their privacy without concerning themselves with having any platform or having anything attached to them (very important for young fans figuring themselves out and navigating online community spaces for the first time, since they can remove themselves from spaces easily if they decide they don't like it and they're protected, rather than PUTTING THEIR FACE ON THE INTERNET). And those posts they make will spread a lot more into the community since they're in a significantly easier format to be reposted (few people are gonna be reposting tons of random short-form videos versus spamming their instagrams with reposts of 10 random fandom images yoinked from tumblr, or reposting to pinterest or something). Like, don't repost art, at the VERY least don't repost without credit, but also I am not ignorant to the fact that my art is not just the first google image result for "pjo pride" and related searches, but also the 4th, the 6th, the 9th, the 10th, the 11th, etc etc., and pops up in the search results before the official ReadRiordan does simply because people reposted my work more (most with credit, thankfully).

For fandom to be a community, it needs to perpetuate itself. There needs to be engagement with one another and conversation. If that bottom rung is cut off, then new fans won't be able to grow into the other niches of the fandom, and the fandom will be solely reliant on the source material and die out extremely quickly, and there won't be a community. There's no conversation! There's no reason to stay beyond the original material! But if you don't have points of entry for new fans, they won't have any way to build the skills needed to move into those niches, or engage with the community in a healthy way.

tl;dr: Bring back askblogs and character-based text post blogs. They are vital to fandom ecosystem.

#fandom #long post // #i know many people jest about tumblr posts being reposted often to other social media #but there's a reason for that! because few other social media these days are primarily text-based! and tumblr is a BLOGGING website! #we're built for sharing random essays! which means we have a LOT of word-heavy stuff #that other platforms can really only have in a different format - usually either image or video - due to character limits #and videos - even short form video - is far less engaged with because it takes more time to interact with #and short form videos of this nature ^ are usually only reposted in like. long-form video format compilations #which are pretty equally if not even less frequently interacted with #because most of those other social media platforms dont have good ways to easily share posts en mass like tumblr's reblog function #so even if those posts do get shared they rarely go far and even if they do they dont stick around #i also personally dont think it's coincidental that general fandom attitude shifts occurred circa 2016-2018 #around the same time as the major shift away from tumblr due to the bans #anyways if you run one of those types of blogs i respect you immensely #you are underappreciated but you fulfill an important ecological niche #also i know rp blogs are still a thing but theyre much more scarce and rp communities in general are drying up

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update - 12/31/2023 - New Year’s Eve

Hey Nerdie! Looking forward to the New Year?

Hello! And yes I am, new beginning can be scary but fun. I’m looking forward it.

You have any lessons that you’re going to carry into the new year?

*Is shocked that she is being asked for advice*

Er…Not sure if you should ask a Hornado Hooligan for life advice, but I’ll do my best.

Skip number four if mentions of mental health, depression and/or suicidal ideation are triggering for you.

1. If you love something, keep doing it. Writing, singing, dancing, reading, walking, edits, watching TV and movies of a certain man with excellent hair, large hands and a prominent nose, painting, playing an instrument, whatever gives you peace and joy.

2. Write the things you want to write, all fanfics are self-indulgent. It’s encouraged, we all want to read all the things. Lord knows all my fanfics are and I would not have them any other way.

3. Find a lovely group of people to nerd out with, chat with, cry with, and have plenty of belly laughs with. The Hornado Watch (to which I am the resident hooligan who inspires many a giggle) has been saving grace for me this year with their support and care in just these last few months. 🥰

The following does contain mentions of mental health and suicidal ideation.

4. On that same note if you don’t feel quite right, mentally or physically, you should tell someone you trust and seek out help. My personal battle with mental health has been ongoing for roughly half my life, it’s hard to remember a time I didn’t feel depressed. I had been managing with medications and drowning myself in work but that will only stave the dark edges off for so long.

It was earlier this year, about August and September when I re-joined tumblr after one of my younger patients who saw my water bottle all Pedro’s characters’s stickers all over it and asked if I read any of the Fanfiction about him because that patient read Loki fics on there. I hadn’t and was surprised to note that my Tumblr log-in infor still worked. I was going through the motions of life and felt hollow to the point where for the first time since high school I had thoughts of “if I wasn’t here, would everything feel okay? Would it stop? If I don’t wake up, and everything stayed black it would be fine.” Then came the insomnia where I just wanted to sleep maybe forever and my body wouldn’t allow me as a special kind a torture. At least that’s how I thought of it at the time.

Oddly enough my first fics were posted between September and October so I was trying to work out the feelings I had which helped some but wasn’t enough so thankfully I was able to find a doctor who’s listen to me when I said my meds aren’t keeping me even keeled any more and started me on a new medication which has been working well for me.

Since then, I’ve enjoyed writing up a storm on all sorts of subjects that I’ve thought about, wanted to explore and just thought, “don’t see that anywhere, let’s do it.”

I’ll keep writing as it really does help keep me sane and interacting with all you lovely peeps 🐥 as it’s often a highlight of my day. 🫂

Especially my Hornado Watch group, I’m your resident hooligan and weather report expert. I predict more flooding and downpours of thots with some support mixed in there. A high chance of fluffy feelings and rainbows in the clouds ⛅️❤️

Stay warm, safe and see you in 2024! 💚

Love Nerdie ❤️

#Nerdie speaks #weekend update #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #new year's eve #december 2023 #2024 soon

[lutiaslayton]

Hey guys! Guess who's FINALLY done writing her thesis manuscript, who's finally freed from the nightmare that was getting it corrected by my three PhD directors who each had their own expectations piling onto each other's, getting it printed and mailed to her jury, and completing dozens of administration related details, and who is finally allowed to have some free time to rest after all that 👀 (PS: I have one week)

I know "I" have been posting ED chapters every week and reblogging others' stuff every now and then, but regarding the ED chapters it's really just been the queue doing all the work haha. I'd actually finished writing the translation all the way back in August and decided to post a chapter per week in anticipation for these tough times when I'd be virtually dead online, just so this blog would be on some sort of life support in the meantime. I've been editing the PREV/NEXT links as each chapter came out (sometimes a day or two late because I forgor), but other than that I've only been browsing tumblr as a half-brained shadow 🥲

All that being said — I need rest. I've stayed up late up to 2-3am working and writing and drawing graphs way more often than my body would have preferred, pulled at least one all-nighter, and lost literally all sense of time (well, more than usual that is). I'm kinda writing this with the only brain cell I have left right now lmao.

So. After working on it since April, I finished writing my thesis. 171 pages, 49409 words with even more text that has been written and then scrapped for the current version, 58 graphs, 20 tables, 165 references in the bibliography, and tons of equations. Whatever am I going to do now?

...write even more words, of course 🤭

I know there's a lot of translation work to do, a lot of other work elsewhere, and just thinking of looking at my to-do list is making my brain implode. And you'd think that after writing so much to the extent that my eyes started burning 24/7, I'd be sick of writing. But... strangely it's the opposite lmao

All that to say, SLS hasn't been updated since April 1st, and this needs to be fixed. I miss these dorks so much and I need some self-indulgent fanfiction writing after all this.

PS: I say I have one week to rest, because my PhD isn't over yet. I still have a scientific paper to start writing right after I come back from the grave (thankfully for that one I won't be the only one writing), and after that, I'll have my PhD defence planned for December 11. So yeah, I'm still not off the hook quite yet hahaha

#stable like sand #lutiastalks

[isolated-islander]

Happiness.

Every now and again, when I feel there's lots going on in my head, with nowhere to put the information - here I return. It's almost always surrounding some sort of complex, crisis or over-complicated phase, and I guess here's my latest edition. I am happy. Or maybe joyous is a better word to use? It's complicated, but for what feels like the first time since Cameron, I am happy with my life in a way which exceeds circumstantial luck. And let me tell you, despite how great it is, it can equally be miserable.

Though I was graced, in some capacity, with the gift of friendship with a few people during my first year of university - there was always a foundation of loneliness which held me together. It's the same loneliness I felt trying to convince myself that "over the top feminism" was at fault for how much I disliked myself. The same loneliness I felt trying to convince myself that "accepting disconnection" was the only way to accept my loneliness. The same loneliness I felt trying to understand my envy of men, the jealousy I had, and the hatred for womanhood I possessed. The same loneliness I felt when fitting into stereotypes like a perfect bisexual jigsaw piece. The same loneliness I felt trying to convince myself, through Tumblr, that I was somehow changed and suddenly wanted to be feminine, just because I thought that's what guys would like about me. And here I am today. As equally scared. In some ways (take bisexuality) with equal concerns. But happiness has been something else. Something I've always known as a positive person, but only experienced truly, melancholically.

I have housemates who I would consider friends, now. Finally, people who I really do believe care about me. People who invite me to do things. People who make me feel comfortable in my own home. People who do not pressure me, or at least no more than I am comfortable with. People who allow me to express myself how I want - and appear to like that about me. I am finally in a position, after a few years of friendships which I feared were held either by circumstance and guilt, where I genuinely feel liked. And it's been terrifying. I really appreciate feeling visible to my friends (I say not even tentatively) that I live with, but I am afraid fo being smothered. I sit in bed and finally feel like I'm safe, in my own space, and that there's no pressure to be "Jodie". I can just exist in a world of nothingness, in the space of my own brain, and I need more of that. Which is difficult to admit after so many years of beggining for less of it.

Thankfully, this has become more reflective than point-filled. Never thought I'd feel good about ending one of these, but if it helps - it probably won't last!

#happiness #loneliness #lgbt #bisexual #growingup

[cyanityinsanity101]

hey balan fandom, don't interact with crazy-balan-fangirl and if they interact with you, BLOCK THEM. they're still continuing to steal art and put nsfw without putting the proper tag [ the tag being balan wonderthirst ]

here is most of the evidence under the read more as it contains stuff like mentions of nsfw art and snippets of nsfw that was posted by them

and the only time they did put the balan wonderthirst tag was on a strip tease. yeah, they posted a post where balan fucking strip teases, uncensored. [ there was no genitalia on the image but it still is a fucking strip tease either way ]

other ones where balan is in suggestive poses? nope, just puts it in the main tag. if im not mistaken, aren't ya supposed to, you know, PUT THE SUGGESTIVE ART IN THE WONDERTHIRST TAG?????

here is an example, this is a post of balan full on showing ass, and look at the tags there ain't a single wonderthirst tag. i am fine with someone putting both the main tag and the thirst tag on a post because at least people will be able to blacklist the tag to avoid those posts, but CBF, THEY AIN'T PUTTIN ANYTHING IN THE TAGS TO PREVENT PEOPLE FROM SEEING. THEIR PINNED POST CLAIMS "minors dni" BUT HOW DO YA EXPECT MINORS TO AVOID YOU IF YOUR JUST PUTTING YOUR POSTS IN THE MAIN TAGS WITHOUT ANY WAY OF AVOIDING THEM!?!??

they even STOLE FROM A FUCKING PORN ARTIST. NO, IM NOT KIDDING.

The art itself is cropped but IT IS STILL STEALING. if anything it makes it worse because ITS STOLEN FROM FUCKING PORN. YOU KNOW, SOMETHING TUMBLR DOESN'T ALLOW?!??? EVEN IF ITS CROPPED IT IS STILL SAID IN THE POST "OUT OF CONTEXT PORN"

Thankfully one of the other pieces of stolen art still had the artist's signature

i already know they'll use the "but the artist's signature is on the art!" or "but i said not mine on the post!" excuse but, it still stealing buddy.

they even made a race joke. yeah, a race joke.

this is not even funny- i can't speak for black people about this post as i myself am not black but had to bring it up since race is a really bad thing to make jokes about.

so please for the love of god if they interact with your post, block them

edit : ok, so her sister stepped in and explained the reasons why this happened, and mentioned how crazy-balan-fangirl was getting spammed with cruel messages and have to put this here, please don't send any hate messages or death threats to her, this does not help the situation at all and worsens it for both parties.

#balan wonderworld

[selfawarejester]

So, someone requested a fic where Blue Team rescues a Child!Reader from a war zone, but unfortunately Tumblr ate the ask. If you’re the one who requested it, please enjoy!

EDIT: found a screenshot! @simp-for-fictional-men-only, hope you like this!

Blue Team x Child!Reader (Halo)

It’s been a long “day”, even by Spartan standards.

Blue Team had been trying to repel Covenant forces on an Outer Colonies planet for over a week… but it hadn’t been enough. Command had called an evacuation, and after destroying a base to help the efforts, Blue Team had been ordered to help with final evacuation calls in the nearest town.

On the Pelican ride to town, there was a brief moment where they thought it was a waste of resources to send Spartans for an evacuation op, especially because the other Spartan teams were still doing the best they could to strike back at the Covenant; not necessarily to stop them anymore, just to hold them back long enough for the civilians to escape and maybe a little revenge. The events of the week, coupled with the guilt of their brothers and sisters still risking their lives, weighed on them heavily.

But at the end of the day, they’re glad they did: they found a group in the Rec center, a dozen people in the boroughs, twenty in an apartment complex — the Marines wouldn’t have been able to lift most of the wreckage that blocked them from escaping.

By the time they’d gotten to the outskirts of town, Blue Team had been left alone to sweep through the dead town. Chief considered just going to meet up with the Marines — surely, they could match the pace of the overloaded Troop Transports — and this area was just dilapidated factories and shady looking establishments that had long since been stampeded.

But a need to fulfil his task to completion stayed his hand… and thank god it did.

At first, it was just soft sniffles that sounded from the inside of the rundown factory. Chief and Kelly, who’d partnered up to search this side of the district, thought it was one of the many Jackals that had been posted in the previous sector wandering, or a Grunt that had been left behind after the Jackals had entertained themselves (in which case, they should probably put the thing out of its misery), so they go inside.

Chief goes first, moving carefully through the debris so as to not dislodge the wreckage, or disturb the corpses of the few soldiers and more civilians. He retrieves their dog tags, securing them in one of the compartments of the MJOLNIR, and Kelly follows, stepping where he does.

Slowly, the sound becomes louder and louder, wheezing and snotty sobbing. Definitely an injured Grunt, he thinks. It’s coming from under a slab of concrete propped up against a wall. Kelly flanks to the right, while Chief goes to the left. He signals that he’ll lift it on the count of three, and grips the edge of the slab. When the slab gets tossed aside, Kelly raises her shotgun, pointing directly at the small figure.

You shriek and bury your head in your knees, pulled up to your chest. You couldn’t believe that after all the gross, awful things you’d had to sit through, holed up in this corner, you were just going to die.

But when nothing happens for a solid five seconds, you chance a peek over your knees and gasp. S-117 and S-087 are emblazoned across the chests of the armored giants… Spartans.

Kelly and Chief exchange confused gazes, having no idea how to deal with children. The last ones they’d had any interaction with was the Castoffs on Netherop, but they were more feral gremlins than they had been children.

(Kelly and Fred still aren’t entirely sure that the whole incident wasn’t a heat-induced hallucination.)

John really doesn’t want to go through another episode like it, but on the other hand, it would be easier if you were pelting rocks at them.

Kelly, being the more personable of the two, kneels to your height (or as close as a Spartan could get) and softly calls. “You don’t have to be scared. We’re here to help.”

You knew that — they were Spartans! The greatest heroes Humanity ever possessed! You were just shocked that you were getting rescued by them.

“Y-you’re Spartans.” You whisper dumbly, but you couldn’t help it! How are you supposed to be cool when you grew up with Master Chief’s action figure on your nightstand. “Like Master Chief.”

You can’t see it, but John can sense Kelly’s smirk as she looks over at him and points. “Well, that’s the man himself.”

* Oh no. By the way your wet, moved eyes stare up at him, it seems you’re a fan.

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!! You hope your pterodactyl screeching wasn’t external.

“Whoa.” This couldn’t be real. You’d passed out from exhaustion, and were dreaming all of this. That could be the only possibility!

John knows that this is the part where he says something witty or inspiring… but he really doesn’t know what to say, so he just awkwardly clears his throat. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head violently, a burning need to not disappoint your childhood hero, and clamber up to your feet… only to wince and lean against the wall, something sticky on your leg.

Now that you’re standing, he can see the dried blood around your ankle. “Hold still!” All the softness is gone from Kelly’s tone as she works on bandaging you up, but you don’t mind, appreciating how careful she’s being.

Co-ordinating with Linda, who informs him that there are patrols scouting the areas — probably only to get any survivors, and not to catch them, but they should still move — and Fred, who tells him that the convoy is flying off-planet via Pelicans in half an hour, John makes some quick calculations.

With the pace you’d set, hobbling alongside Kelly, whimpering every time you put your weight on your left foot, it would take them at least an hour. Too long.

“Whoa…” The sound comes unbidden from Fred when Kelly emerges, with you clutching at her hip, all bloody and dirty. A pang of sympathy strikes as he looks around and realizes all that you must have seen. He was well aware that normal children weren’t nearly as resilient as he and his siblings had been.

“….” He stays silent as you arrive in front of him, staring up at him with slight apprehension, heart racing as he tries to think of something to say — and for some reason, he lands on an awkward, weirdly Southern-sounding. “Hey champ!”

John and Kelly both shoot him weird looks, and he wants to dig a hole and die, when they hear it.

A small giggle falls from your lips, tiny hands covering your mouth as you try not to laugh. Fred sighs in relief, but his anxiety returns when Kelly’s joking voice comes over the comms saying “Well, I guess we know who’s taking care of them.”

Linda drops out of nowhere, and nearly scares you to death as you shriek and bump into John, holding his leg tightly. You don’t really notice how he freezes, confused again.

“…sorry.” She doesn’t sound sorry, you think with a pout and drop from Chief’s leg, careful of your own busted ankle.

“That’s Linda, that’s Fred and I’m Kelly. You can just call him Chief. What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/N.”

“Alright. We won’t be able to make it if you’re walking, so you need to get on one of our backs.” Chief tells you, straight to business. “Which one of us do you feel comfortable with?”

He’s really hoping you pick Kelly or Fred. It wouldn’t exactly be a burden, you’re much tinier than the full grown people he’s had to carry out of a war zone, and you’re handling it much better as well, even though you’re barely ten years old.

“Um…” You look shyly up at Fred. “If you don’t really mind…”

*Aw. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Fred beckons you over, and hoists you up between his shoulders, giving you the rundown on what to do if people start shooting, and to hold on tight when he tells you to.

*You’re much more considerate than the freaked out VIPs he’s had to extract. But he still feels you twitch every time the wind causes something to clatter, so he decides to strike up conversation.

“So how did you wind up there?” It’s not until afterwards that he realizes that, unlike soldiers, civilians aren’t comfortable discussing stuff like that. But you answer that it was your dad’s factory, explaining that it was Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

The Spartans, specifically Kelly, asked you questions about it, having never heard of it themselves. After all, military settings rarely allowed such breaches of protocol.

You only trailed off as you got to the part where he told you to hide, and Fred lets it be.

When you finally get to the convoy, a nurse hurriedly tries to pull you away from the Spartans to help out, apologizing for not doing it sooner when Fred tells her it’s fine and that you can stay. After all, Kelly had fixed you up well, and you seemed terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

All that was left to do was fly up to the ship in outer orbit, with the rest of the survivors. Since there were such few Pelicans, everyone had been crammed into them, military and civilians alike. You’d simply wandered onto the one they’d been on, sandwiched between Chief and Fred.

Chief watches you picking at your shorts, and suddenly remembers the chocolate bar Sgt. Johnson keeps giving him - “you’re not yourself when you’re hungry, Chief” He’d snicker and then leave, Chief just standing there, not understanding the reference - but hey, chocolate was chocolate.

“Here. You did well.” Your eyes go wide, and for a second he thinks you’re going to refuse, but then you snatch it out of his hand and snarf it down. This is how it must feel to watch him eat.

“You’re going to like it up there.” Fred chimes in when your gaze starts getting distant again. “Space is really cool.”

In a twist of fate, you find one of your best friends when you arrive on the ship. Their parents promise to take care of you, and thank the Spartans.

When they start directing the survivors to their quarters, you hug every Spartan, even Linda… or their legs, since you couldn’t reach anything else. (Thankfully, you telegraph it pretty well, so they don’t accidentally smack you or something.)

John just stiffens and then nods, Fred pats you on the head awkwardly and shuffles away (he was very shocked by the affection), Kelly laughs and claps you on the shoulder, and Linda just hums and pets you on the head like a dog, walking away afterwards.

You go on to be a Marine yourself, finding yourself on the Halo campaign, where Chief and Cortana save you once more. You’re surprised he still remembers you.

You leave a bar of the same brand he gave you at his shrine, giving a heartfelt eulogy and catching up momentarily with the other members of Blue Team before you all leave again.

You almost faint when he shows up at Requiem, though. Don’t feel bad, as Lasky fanboys behind Chief for the whole campaign.

Palmer corrals you and Lasky into a break room to make fun of your behavior after it’s all over.

#halo #fred 104 #john 117 #kelly 087 #linda 058 #halo x reader #fred 104 x reader #john 117 x reader #kelly 087 x reader #linda 058 x reader #hope I got all their characters right! #I’ll add a read more later

[berlinini]

we made it (2021 version)

So this is longer than I intended and if you read the first sentence and ask yourself what the fuck is this, you can skip to the important part aka the end. TLDR: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for an incredible year in this fandom, 2021 would have sucked (even more) without you, Louis & Louies i love you so much ❤️

So I'm at the point in my NYE "celebrations" where I decided to listen to Fireproof in honor of that time in March-April 2021 when I would listen to that song obsessively because it just conveyed my mental state (there's something about blasting "I think I'm gonna lose my mind" at the beginning of the work day from your dining-room-turned-home-office). There were many songs that I would go and listen on repeat later on in a probably unhealthy manner, like Louis' cover of 7 for the whole month of September (somehow "I need another year lone" felt right to me 2 years into a pandemic), Zayn's entire and thankfully very long discography this summer, Sam Fender's Last to Make it Home this fall and more recently Arctic Monkey's One for the Road. My weird consumption of music apart, what these things have in common is that I associate them strongly with different periods of this year and they are all songs that I've discovered thanks to this fandom. Anyways, when there isn't much going on, at least we have music and nature.

It really isn't an understatement to say that this year has been completely changed for me when I discovered Louis' music and joined tumblr and this amazing amazing fandom. So many of my memories this year are linked to being here, with the things Louis did or the stuff that happened on louie tumblr, and the endless fun I've had with people I met here.

I'm not joking, if someone asked me the highlight of 2021, I would reply AFHF. I have such vivid memories of watching the festival on blurry streams on August 30, and all the emotions I felt in my living room, and doing the same a week later with an amazing documentary and an HD version of the concert. It was peak Serotonin Boost™️ for my pandemic brain. Thank you Louis!!! Thank you for being such an incredible person and artist, you make it so easy to be your fan! Now release new music. I will also remember 2021 for the fun Euro content it provided (and my first interaction with @shutterbug2012), how I was secretly hoping England wouldn't get eliminated, watching the finale in a bar during my vacations and being so torn about cheering for Italy.

I will remember the excitement every 28th of the month, the merch drops, the monthly check-in tweets, the awesome fandom projects we've had for Hallouween and to celebrate Louis' 30th birthday (s/o to @louisprojects), the tag games (s/o to @seasurfacefullofclouds1 and @venusrobots), the random horny asks (s/o to @silverfoxlou #flatfingers and to @crankydee's cursed images), the zouis breakdowns (no thanks for @louis-in-red @itsallaboutzayn and @icarusfallsforwalls), the louie love letters, the daily what's-Val's-breakdown-of-the-day (@bluelightsaber never stop ilysm) and the awesome GIFs and edits that never fail to amaze me (s/o to @longhairedlouist91 and @quetzal-28 moodboards, @fruitylouis mindblowing gifs and @stormyhale manifesting edits). Special mention to fan fic writers and rec blogs (@allwaswell16 and @quelsentiment) for the endless tabs I have open on my computer and that weird moment a coworker asked me what I was reading at the moment and couldn't exactly tell the truth. I even want to thank the unhinged anons in my inbox for making me laugh out loud a few times, and the 'normal' anons who allowed me to ~discourse~.

Thank you to everyone who is part of the fandom and who's here to support Louis as he's preparing to take over the world ❤️Thank you for welcoming me, thank you for sticking around and for making cookies out of crumbs. Thank you for being here, for interacting with me, for following me.

If you've made this far, I want to wish you a Happy New Year!!! 🎉

☀️2022 is the year of Louis Tomlinson and of Louies 🤞

✨ Faith in the Future ✨

#sorry 🙃 #louies i love you #happy new year #faith in the future ing for 2022 to be better and filled with loutent #anyways bye ✌️ #tumblr user berlinini

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 291: The Endeavor Pamphlet

Previously on BnHA: Dabi showed up atop Gigantomachia’s back and was all “you’ll never guess who I really am!” and the readers humored him and were all “who?” and he was all “TODOROKI TOUYA” and we were all “WOW └(・。・)┘ OH MY GOSH I WOULD NEVER HAVE GUESSED”, except for Shouto and Enji who were GENUINELY SHOCKED. Anyway so Touya was all “and guess what I’m doing right now!” and before anyone could even try, he was all, “STREAMING MY EMMY-NOMINATED MINISERIES ‘HELLO, I’M EVIL BUT ALSO TRAGIC AND SEXY, NOW LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT MY DAD WHO SUCKS’’, THAT’S WHAT.” And everyone was all “oh my god” and Touya was all “ヽ(⌐■_■)ノ♪” for basically the rest of the chapter, and that’s pretty much it! Oh, wait, except for the part where he also doused himself in bleach in a fit of pure theatrics, which is actually pretty much the main takeaway from the entire chapter really because it was just wild af. ANYWAYS.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi introduces Baby Touya, the world’s most enchantingly sweet character, and is immediately all, “I sure can’t wait to tell you guys all about how his fucking jaw burnt off.” Thankfully he doesn’t (YET), and we cut back to the present pretty quickly, where Dabi explains how he took all of his brain cells that should have been used to stop him from pouring bleach over his head, and instead put them all toward his big brain plot of releasing an elaborate video detailing Endeavor’s various abuses and crimes, and even throwing Hawks under the bus as well because WHY NOT. He then leaps off of Gigantomachia’s back (like I said, no brain cells) all set to blast them with a Prominence Burn, only to be stopped by none other than THE LEGEND HIMSELF, MOTHERFUCKING BEST, PRETTIEST, NICEST, MOST OUTSTANDING MOTHERFUCKING JEANIST. Who’s no doubt outraged by the crime against hair he witnessed only moments earlier. GO GETTIM JEANY BOI.

so I haven’t had time to answer any of them because this has been the stupidest week, but I just wanted to tell you guys that I received no fewer than nine asks about Dabi’s hair. which, in a week filled with election memes and tumblr’s most cursed fandom briefly rising back up from the dead, is a pretty impressive feat for him if you ask me. like, I know I was making fun of it basically nonstop, but it sure did generate a lot of discussion so maybe I should rethink my opinions on Dabi’s PR strategies now, idk

anyway. it’s Saturday. time to catch up on this shit. let’s see how fucked the Todorokis are

OH NO HE’S CUTE

HOLY SHIT THIS IS TOO MUCH TO FUCKING PROCESS. I’M JUST TRYING TO ENJOY MY DAY HORIKOSHI, ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO TRAUMATIZE THIS POOR CHILD RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD

“thanks for being all right” the fuck

who allowed this child to be so cute. I’m serious. who signed off on this

how could a child this adorable possibly want to murder his equally adorable baby brother. please, your honor. there must be some mistake here

guess how prepared I am to read all about Touya’s tragic past. mm. that’s right. zero ready. none ready

anyway. TWO THOUSAND DEGREES LOLOLOL. NO TRACE OF A CORPSE HOW CONVENIENT. A PIECE OF HIS LOWER JAW BONE FFFFMSGHKLSh. LOVELY. LOVELY

LMAOOOOO

listen you guys. I just want to take a moment to appreciate that Horikoshi Kouhei did one of two things here. either (1) he planned it out FROM THE VERY START that Touya would be born with red hair Because Fire Powers, but would then have his hair turn white due to trauma, thus making the Dabi/Touya connection very slightly less obvious, although Let’s Be Real Who Are We Kidding. OR, (2) the anime got it wrong and gave him red hair, and rather than allowing this plot hole to continue to exist, Horikoshi took it upon himself to concoct this elaborate storyline and pretend it was never a plot hole at all! in which case I sure hope someone at Bones is sending him a VERY nice Christmas card this year. got this man sweeping up all your messes for you. you’re just lucky he has some sort of wild compulsion to address these things

anyways!!

FATHER AND SON. how sweet. :| still zero percent ready for any of this btw

STOP BEING CUTE

THIS IS RIDICULOUS. I’M SO MAD RIGHT NOW. HE IS THE SINGLE CUTEST CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, and do you even know how many other baby characters I’m betraying in order to say that?! baby Kacchan, baby Deku, baby Ochako, baby Shouto, Eri, baby Hawks. I’M LOOKING YOU DEAD IN THE EYE RIGHT NOW AND TELLING YOU THAT BABY TOUYA IS CUTER THAN ALL OF THOSE PLEBS. AND YOU’RE LOOKING BACK AT ME RIGHT NOW ALL “YEAH IT SURE IS A PITY ABOUT HIS JAW MELTING OFF THOUGH.” THAT’S IT, I QUIT THE SERIES

and Enji’s smiling at him. he’s so proud of him. but then Touya won’t be able to do it, and Enji’s gonna stop training him, and Touya’s gonna feel like a failure and keep pushing himself in order to try and win his dad’s affections back, because that’s all kids fucking want, all they want is just love, that’s fucking it, you couldn’t just give him that?? and then he’s gonna immolate himself fflkdlskfh THERE YOU SEE HORIKOSHI, I KNOW THE WHOLE STORY ALREADY, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THE WHOLE “SHOW THEM THE DEAD DOG” THING YET AGAIN YOU PIECE OF SHIT

OH SNAP THERE GOES THE TWIN THEORY. R.I.P.

BABY FUYUMI. PRETTY CUTE. NOT AS CUTE AS TOUYA THOUGH. HEY LOOK, NO REASON TO GET MAD AT ME I’M JUST STATING A FACT HERE

YEAH THIS IS GONNA GO REAL WELL OH BOY

I keep pressing the emergency stop button but this industrial tragedy machine just keeps on chugging along anyway, I’m pretty sure this thing is not up to code

:| I am so sorry sweet boy, Horikoshi is only getting started with you

FUCKING HELL WITH THIS NARRATION

but he wasn’t actually a child to you, he was just a little puppet child for you to live vicariously through!! and then you went and did the same fucking thing with Shouto afterwards and never learned your lesson until just six months ago!! fucking hell, Enji

so now he’s all “Touya is dead, that’s an unforgivable lie” fflkdhflk motherfucker does he look dead to you. if you really think that, tumblr and twitter have got a little over five years’ worth of archived theory posts to show you

oh shit Touya’s countering with “it’s an unforgivable truth”, which, damn. I actually think Horikoshi’s dialogue is one of his weaker points as a writer a lot of the time, but that comeback was snappy as fuck

actually guys, now that I’ve seen how ridiculously fucking cute baby!Touya was, I can almost understand why Shouto and Enji never put the pieces together before lol. any passing similarities would have easily been dismissed on account of he’d need to be at least 10x more adorable in order to get the full resemblance

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU SLEEP??? SO YOU POINT BLANK REFUSED TO PASS OUT WHILE YOU WERE BUSY MAIMING ALL OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS, BUT NOW THAT THERE’S AN OPPORTUNITY TO SEE YOUR REACTION TO THE “YOUR LIEUTENANT WAS SECRETLY RELATED TO ONE OF YOUR WORST ENEMIES THE WHOLE TIME” BOMBSHELL, YOU FINALLY DECIDE TO GET YOUR FORTY WINKS. I SEE

WOW DABI

I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T ALREADY HAVE YOUR ANCESTRY.COM RESULTS PRINTOUT READY TO FOLD INTO A PAPER AIRPLANE AND ZOOM ON DOWN TO HIM

LOL NEVERMIND

gotta say, so far The Endeavor Pamphlet is just about as spicy as I could have hoped

(ETA: Natsuo’s face as he watches his beloved dead brother come back to life only to literally and metaphorically set everything on fire in one fell swoop is :/. why must you do this to me Natsu. can’t you see I’m trying to throw a Welcome Back Jeanist party here.)

HAVE YOU READ THIS?! TODOROKI ENJI ABUSED HIS OWN HEIR, AND DABI WROTE IT DOWN RIGHT THERE

WELL HE’S NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / NEVER GON’ BE NUMBER ONE NOW / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT / THAT’S ONE LESS THING TO WORRY ABOUT

btw I neglected to mention this last week, but yes I do recognize and appreciate that this is Can’t Ya See-kun himself whom Horikoshi has chosen to be the face of this existential crisis which the general public is about to experience. rip CYS-kun

OOF

excuse me. putting aside the implications of Dabi sharing this context-less murder video of Hawks with the entire world for a moment, I just have to pause for a sec here, because when exactly did he get a chance to edit this all in?? complete with voiceover that seamlessly ties in with the prerecorded footage of him with DNA test results sans shirt?? you’re telling me this motherfucker, with all the smoke that was in the room thanks to his own quirk, somehow got a PERFECT SHOT of the PRECISE MOMENT when Hawks drove his feather knife into Jin’s back, using his MAGIC CAMERA THAT HE I GUESS HAD THE ENTIRE TIME IN THE POUCH RIGHT NEXT TO HIS BLEACH BOTTLE, and then immediately somehow got this very next shot as well FROM AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT ANGLE

ALL THE WHILE IMMEDIATELY RUNNING THROUGH SCRIPT REVISIONS IN HIS HEAD, WHICH HE THEN PROCEEDED TO RECORD... WHERE, EXACTLY?? WITH SKEPTIC, WHILST RIDING ON MACHIA’S BACK??

AND THIS IS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF???

and this after I just wrote that whole long paragraph positively GLOWING about this man’s ability to plug up a plot hole. jfc. just scratch out every damn word I said lol. just forget all of it

are you fucking kidding me, the footage was from the cameras Skeptic planted on Hawks??

that’s... actually... okay you know what, it still doesn’t make any sense in the slightest, but the determination to address it nonetheless... just, dammit... I feel like I’m constantly at war with myself over whether or not I want to shake this man’s hand or slap him lmao. whatever, then!!

anyway, since Shouto and Enji can’t actually see the damage that Touya is dealing to the hero industry even as they speak, Touya is taking it upon himself to give them the highlights

I think it’s a testament to how much Endeavor cares about Hawks that he managed to zero in on that comment even amidst all the craziness of his eldest son returning from the dead to announce how he’s been carefully plotting their destruction for years and years. like, he heard “Hawks” and his face immediately went like that. you think he’s worried that Dabi did something to him? because he’d be right to worry lol

so the Endeavor Pamphlet narration is now explaining all about how Hawks totally killed the Number 3 Hero Best Jeanist as well! yep... he sure did... totally...

OH MY GOD WE’RE CUTTING TO HIM AHHHHH

Hawks, that is. lol. not Jeanist. NO, JUST MY POOR HALF-DEAD WINGLESS BABY SON

NOOOOO HIS LITTLE WING STUMPS. BUT SOMEHOW HIS FACIAL HAIR IS STILL INTACT. OH TO BE AN ANIME PRETTY BOY BEING SET ON FIRE. “HEY, TAKE IT EASY, WATCH THE FACE”

EXCUSE ME WHAT

interesting! we suspected as much, I think, with the clues that Ending dropped, and the little flashback right after the name reveal. still not clear how Dabi found out about it though!

looooool okay here we go, breaking out the heavy-handed holier-than-thou shit now

you know, I do find it interesting how trying to model themselves after All Might’s noble Symbol of Peace image has kind of ended up being the heroes’ undoing here. like, I could write a whole essay on this, but what it basically boils down to is that they were all trying too hard to be perfect. All Might went out there and did his thing and was amazing, and so the powers-that-be built an entire system centered around this seemingly-infallible person, and they acted like the system was infallible as well. and so most of the population ended up becoming complacent over the years, and meanwhile the people who were unfortunate enough to fall through the cracks understandably wound up disillusioned and perceiving the heroes as these false idols

anyway, but I think one positive takeaway from this is that the new up-and-coming generation of heroes represent a breakaway from that system. like, imo what we’re witnessing is the downfall of the Perfect Hero, and the rise of the imperfect hero. and this new generation doesn’t shy away from their failures or pretend like they never happened. they pretty much can’t pretend, because their failures are all right out there in the open for everyone to see. Bakugou Katsuki, just to name one example off the top of my very biased head, has had his own personal character journey basically play out right in front of the media’s eyes. his humiliation at the sports festival, his kidnapping by the League, and all of the fallout afterward. this isn’t someone who can ever go out there and convince the world that he’s perfect. but what he can do, instead, is show the world that he’s trying. that he’s trying with everything he has to do his best, to be the best. rather than this untouchable godlike image, it’s instead the image of someone painfully human who is nonetheless striving with everything he’s got to keep moving forward, flaws and all, and work his way to the top

and ultimately I think that’s going to be a much more positive image to send out to the world when all’s said and done. because rather than merely inspiring awe, heroes like that inspire people to take action themselves. or at least that’s what I hope! and not just Bakugou, but the others as well. we’ve got Shouto, whose own personal trauma is being aired in front of the whole nation even as I sit here ranting. we’ve got Deku, who cries at the drop of a hat, and who fought to become a hero despite being quirkless (and I think it’s only a matter of time before that eventually becomes public knowledge as well). tl;dr because I’m getting way too long-winded here, but these kids have effectively been humanized in a way that the old generation never was, and I think that’ll go a long way towards building trust between them and the people they’ll someday be protecting, and inspiring the next generation in hopefully a much healthier way

anyway so where were we. ...oh yes, Dabi was explaining that heroes only protect themselves, and is presumably building up to his grand conclusion of “therefore you should all just let the villains take over and burn down the world”

omfg. YOU GUYS

DOES CAN’T YA SEE-KUN’S SHARK FRIEND ACTUALLY CALL HIM “CAN’T YA SEE-KUN.” HE HAS A NAME YOU KNOW!! UNLESS HE LEGALLY GOT HIS NAME CHANGED TO CAN’T YA SEE-KUN. OH MY GOD

ALSO, IS THAT CAN’T YA SEE-KUN CRYING IN THE BOTTOM RIGHT THERE OMG. GIVE THIS CHILD A HUG. EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING RIGHT NOW AND HUG HIM

BAKUGOU IS BARELY HANGING ON THERE LOL. GOTTA STAY CONSCIOUS... SO MUCH TEA BEING SPILLED... FOCUS... CONCENTRATE

IIDA’S ANGLING HIS HEAD IN A WEIRD WAY, LIKE DUDE. LOOKING SUSPICIOUSLY SNUGGLY THERE. MMM THESE IIDABAKU CRUMBS

HADOU IS ALL “WHAT EVEN IS ACTUALLY GOING ON” LMAO

LASTLY, POOR SHOUTO OMFG. WHEN YOU’RE ALL FINISHED HUGGING CYS-KUN THIS CHILD NEEDS YOUR ATTENTION!!

so now Dabi’s leaping off of this ninety-foot-tall gargoyle man like that’s a normal, smart thing to do. unless he can fly too now? saw his dad doing it back at Fukuoka and was all “hmm”

OH MY GOD SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT NOW WHAT WORD SHOUTO IS USING TO ADDRESS ENJI, THESE TRANSLATIONS LOVE TO MESS WITH MY HEAD

ENJI GET MOVING DO YOU NOT SEE THOSE TEARS!!! SNAP OUT OF IT YOU BIG TREE

AHHHHH

OH KACCHAN YOU WOKE UP A LITTLE MORE THERE, HUH

lol he and Deku both look so determined but they’re basically sitting ducks. their “oh shit” faces do look remarkably like their “TIME TO SWING INTO ACTION” faces but don’t be fooled, they have one good arm and about six pints of blood left between the two of them. looks like this one’s all on you Shouto

-- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH --

BAH GOD... WHAT’S GOING ON HERE... THAT’S BEST JEANIST’S MUSIC

y’all. can’t even talk right now, my brain has completely shut down lol. just. ...

  °˖✧◝(￣▿￣)���✧˖°

#bnha 291 #dabi #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki shouto #best jeanist #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #you guys know that scene from the end of the lion king #the part where simba is walking up to the top of pride rock #and he lets out that roar as zimmer's score soars to a crescendo #yeah baby #that's the mood rn #welcome back king

[writingfeatherduster]

A Warm Feeling

Chapter Two: Exhaustion

Summary: Sans is tired to the point of feeling ill. Once again, Grillby helps.

Warnings for this chapter: Nightmares, sleep deprivation, anxiety, almost 4000 words I had to loosely edit to fit a satisfying Tumblr format that surely got a little jumbled in the copy-paste process

Chapter One

Read this on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad!

“SANS! TIME TO GET UP, LAZYBONES! I’M MAKING BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI AND IF IT’S COLD BY THE TIME YOU GET DOWN HERE I’M NOT REHEATING IT FOR YOU!”

Sans’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Papyrus’s voice. He groaned, rolling over onto his side. It was the day after Grillby had walked him home, and he had just started to fall asleep. Leftover anxiety from his nightmare had kept him up all night, his mind tormenting him with ‘what ifs’ and memories of unpleasant past runs. Nightmares and anxiety weren’t uncommon for Sans, but it had been awhile since it was that bad. He wanted to just close his eyes and ignore his brother, but then again, warm breakfast spaghetti was much better than cold spaghetti.

Sans sat up and stretched in a vain attempt to relieve the aching in his bones, grabbing his hoodie and throwing it on before he made his way downstairs. “Alright, alright,” he mumbled, “I’m up. Geez Paps, no need to get so rattled up.”

Papyrus groaned from the kitchen. “That was a stretch even for you!”

“Hey, I just woke up. It’s the best I got.” Sans chuckled and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of plates.

If Papyrus had pupils, his expression said that he’d be rolling his eyes. He focussed back on stirring his spaghetti sauce, letting his exasperation go for a moment. “So,” he said, “After work, I’m going to Undyne’s house to train, but I won’t be coming home. Dr. Alphys is letting Undyne borrow something called ‘anime’. Apparently it’s some kind of documentary about humans? Undyne wants me to spend the night to watch it with her and to teach me about human fighting! It may not be MTT TV, but it sounds educational!”

Something in Sans’s soul shivered at the idea of Papyrus being out of his sight the entire day. He really didn’t want to be alone in the house, and having his brother nearby helped him feel a bit more secure when his anxiety was running high. He wanted to ask Papyrus to stay home, but… how could he? Papyrus sounded really excited, and Sans felt stupid for being so clingy. “Sounds great, Paps,” Sans managed to mumble, grabbing forks and putting them on the table. Did they go on the right or the left of the plate? Eh, he couldn’t remember. He’d just put them at the top of the plate instead. Good enough.

Papyrus seemed to sense Sans's hesitation, voice taking on a tone of worry. "If… if that's not 'great', brother, I can ask Undyne if we could reschedule. I know you haven't been sleeping well, and that you get lonely when I'm not here…"

"Nah, Paps, it's fine," Sans attempted to reassure him. When Papyrus continued to look unconvinced, the shorter skeleton pulled on the best nonchalant smile he could manage. When Papyrus still looked unconvinced, he chuckled nervously. "Something in your expression tells me you're not going to take 'I'm fine' for an answer." He let the smile fade with a sigh, posture sagging. God, trying to appear fine as usual for even a minute had been exhausting. "Fine," he admitted, "I'm not doing great, but it's not a big deal, Paps. Definitely not a big enough deal for you to start cancelling plans."

"AHA!" Papyrus cried, brandishing a wooden spoon at Sans. "So you ADMIT that there is, in fact, a deal!"

"Sure," Sans chuckled, "I got plenty of deals. I'm selling wood carvings at three G a piece." Papyrus would've arched an eyebrow if he'd had one.

"Sans, you don't make wood carvings."

"That's why they're so cheap."

The taller skeleton groaned, nearly forgetting to take his sauce off the stove. "It doesn't work like- ugh, nevermind! I can see you don't want to talk about it. However," he continued, straightening up a bit to make a 'grand declaration', "If you need me for any reason, you need only call upon me, and I will return home!"

Sans smiled at his brother, his nerves briefly put at ease by Papyrus's antics. Yeah, Paps would only be a call away, right? Besides, Sans could handle a little nightmare or two on his own. He'd been fine. Everything would be fine.

Still, as the skeletons chatted over breakfast, Sans couldn't help the feeling of uneasy anticipation that followed him up. He could make it through one anxious evening on his own… right?

Sans wandered up to his post in the forest, grabbing a bottle of ketchup he’d left behind before going back around to the front and sitting down. He let his head fall back against the wood with a soft thunk. His bones ached in protest as he settled into the snow, causing him to groan. Usually he would just take a shortcut to his post from Snowdin, but he’d learned his lesson about a dozen resets ago. Shortcuts while tired? Never ended well. So, he’d had to walk all the way out to his post in the woods. He was pretty sure the walk had spent the last of the energy he had left. He would usually go all the way to the door in the woods, but even the thought of that little extra distance made him want to throw up. Or cry. Maybe both. It was just one of those days.

He took a swig from the ketchup bottle and kept his eyes on the snow-covered road, ignoring how the light reflecting off of it gave him a headache. He resolved to just keep an eye out for Frisk from his new favorite seat. It had been four days, so they could come out of the Ruins at any moment. Seriously, what was taking them so long? Sans almost wanted to just blast through the door and go find out himself. Eh, maybe on the next run. Wouldn’t that be a shock for Frisk? To see Sans in the Ruins? If he took a shortcut, maybe he could even get to them before Toriel.

Sans closed his eye sockets as he let his thoughts wander, sighing. He was actually starting to feel really comfortable. The snow was cold, yeah, but it took him way longer to get uncomfortably cold than other monsters, because of the whole ‘no skin’ thing. It must have snowed early that morning, because the top layer of powder was light and fluffy, supporting Sans’s back a bit more as he sank into it.

A tap on Sans’s shoulder caught his attention and he slowly opened his eyes. When he did, his whole body tensed.

Frisk.

The human child’s hands were covered in dust, and they were smirking as they tapped Sans awake with the tip of their toy knife. They raised it, and the skeleton didn’t even have a chance to react before-

Sans jolted awake with a shout, eye flaring blue as he gripped his chest, trying to steady his breathing as he oriented himself. He must have dozed off at some point without realizing. Shit. What if Frisk really had snuck up on him? What if Frisk snuck past him? He quickly straightened up and looked down the road. Thankfully, the snow leading down towards the door to the Ruins was untouched, bearing no human footprints, or any footprints at all. The fact that Sans wasn’t buried in snow proved that there hadn’t been any recent snowfall to cover up footprints, either. Frisk was still in the Ruins. For now, everyone in Snowdin was okay.

It occurred to Sans just how cold he’d gotten, a shiver running through him. Jeez, how long was he sitting in the snow? He really needed to start wearing a watch or something. His internal clock wasn’t super reliable when he was so tired his hands were shaking. Ignoring the protests of his joints, the skeleton got to his feet. He had to lean against his sentry post for a moment as a wave of dizziness came over him. Now that Sans had gotten a brief moment of rest, his body seemed determined to make him go back to sleep. At all costs. That couldn’t be good.

Sans turned and looked back the way he came. It was going to be a long walk home, and the longer he stayed up, the worse he felt. He could sleep at his station like he used to, sure, but after laying in the snow for who knows how long the cold was starting to get to him. He could wait until Papyrus came to check on him and ask his brother for help, but then Papyrus was sure to go home with him and fret. Frisk could show up at any moment… but what could Sans even do in this state? He probably couldn’t even stick to his usual routine, swaying tiredly on his feet as he contemplated his next move. Looking back down the road at the glistening snow, Sans made his choice. He was going home. Now. He’d get some rest before going to his Waterfall post. Then Papyrus wouldn’t suspect a thing, and Sans could recover a bit before Paps went to Undyne’s. After all, there was no way Sans was going to sleep with Papyrus gone.

Cutting through the woods to avoid most of the other sentry posts and puzzles, Sans made his way back towards Snowdin, stumbling a bit as he did. After a close call where he nearly lost his balance on the narrow wood bridge leading towards town, he was starting to think that he was developing a crush on his mattress. He did his best to look at least semi-alert as he walked through town, waving to others who acknowledged him as they went about their day.

As he passed Grillby’s, Sans slowed to a stop, looking up at the sign and briefly thinking about the night before. Come to think of it, he’d gotten a good few hours of sleep while he was sitting at Grillby’s bar. It wasn’t enough, considering those few hours probably accounted for most of the sleep Sans had gotten in the past four days, but he couldn’t imagine how much worse he would be feeling right then without it. Not only that, but Grillby had let Sans stay late, allowing the skeleton to have that much-needed rest without being disturbed. Grillby probably didn’t know how much that meant to him. Sans made a mental note to thank the bartender again later, not sure if he had given him a proper ‘thank you’ yet.

The door opening pulled Sans from his thoughts. Speak- or think- of the devil. Grillby had stepped outside, walking over to Sans with a slight frown. “Sans? Are you alright? You’ve been standing outside for a good ten minutes.”

Really? That long? Sans had been sure he only paused for a moment. “Yeah, I’m alright,” the skeleton mumbled, “Just lost in thought I guess.”

“Well,” Grillby said with a lingering hint of worry, “Why don’t you go ahead and come inside? I was about to break for lunch, myself, and I wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”

It took Sans a moment to catch up with what the bartender said, but when he did, he chuckled. “This isn’t a trick to make me rack up a larger tab, is it?”

Grillby couldn’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly at the comment. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll take care of that yourself later. This one is on the house.”

Grillby led the way into the bar. It was pretty slow, the only patrons being the usuals that hung around taking up seats pretty much from open to close. Sans moved to go sit at his usual barstool, but was pleasantly surprised when Grillby put a hand on his shoulder and guided him past the bar and into the kitchen. The kitchen was surprisingly small and very clean. “Nice setup you got here, Grilbz,” Sans commented lightly. “I honestly kinda expected a fancier lineup, with how busy you get some nights. Color me impressed.”

If Sans didn’t know any better, he’d say Grillby was blushing. The bartender adjusted his glasses a bit, clearing his throat. “W-well, I light to keep a tight ship, and it’s just me back here. Anyway, there’s a couple of chairs and a small table in the back right corner, over there. I’ll cook us up some lunch, you make yourself comfortable,” Grillby said invitingly.

Sans didn’t have to be told twice. He made himself comfortable in a folding chair as he watched Grillby cook, sighing as his sore legs got some relief. The kitchen was comfortably warm, and Sans found himself in danger of falling asleep again, fighting to keep his eyes open.

Grillby glanced up at the skeleton, then looked back down at the stove, where he was toasting the bun for Sans’s burger. He carefully broke the silence, softly asking, “Did you get any sleep last night? You look exhausted.”

Sans shrugged, finding himself being surprisingly candid with Grillby. “A little. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Grillby finished putting together the burger and grabbed a bottle of ketchup, walking over to Sans and putting both in front of him. “Perhaps you should stay here while I call your brother…”

“No!” Sans sat up straighter, then took a deep breath to calm himself down. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to worry him. He’s got plans tonight, and you know how he is. He’ll cancel to fret over me the second he thinks something is wrong.” He looked down at the plate and mumbled a, “Thanks, by the way,” before picking up the burger and biting into it. The warmth from the food seemed to spread through him, making him relax back into his chair again. Was it bad that all it took was a burger to put him at ease for a moment? He swallowed and sighed contently, then noticed that Grillby was watching him. “Really, Grillbz, I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

Grillby debated with himself for a moment, then decided to let it go. “Alright, if you say so.” The timer on the fryer went off and he got up, taking out the fries and tossing them in salt before dumping them into a basket. To Sans’s surprise, Grillby got another basket out and lined it with paper, preparing a small salad for himself.

“Uh, Grillby?” Sans prompted with amusement, “Doesn’t a basket of fries cancel out like, all the health benefits of eating a salad?”

Grillby rolled his eyes. “For your information, I just happen to like salads. I prefer to have a light lunch, anyway.” He went over to the table and sat across from Sans. “Health has nothing to do with it. Besides, you’re one to talk. How many of my burgers do you eat a week? Excuse me, I meant a day?”

Sans set the already half-eaten burger down, putting his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay! Don’t go turning into Papyrus on me. My bro already gives me an earful about my eating habits, and I don’t even have ears.”

Grillby chuckled, starting to pick at his fries. “Well, just tell me that it’s because you like my cooking, and I’ll let it slide.”

Sans lowered his hands with a smirk. “Okay. It’s because I like your cooking. You make a mean burger, Grillbz, and I mean it.”

Okay, that time Grillby definitely blushed. “I-i- oh, um, thank you,” the bartender stammered, caught off guard. He didn’t think Sans would actually say it!

The skeleton laughed, wiping his hands on his shorts as he leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t felt this relaxed all day. It was… nice. “Thanks for this, Grillby. Sure beats eating lunch alone at home.” He picked up the ketchup bottle and took a long drink, setting the bottle down when he was done and leaning back in his chair. He was warm, he was fed… and he felt safe. Tucked in the corner of the quiet kitchen, Sans felt completely hidden from the world. He let his eyes drift closed, taking a deep breath…

And barely a moment later, he had finally fallen asleep.

Later that day, Sans stirred slightly, barely aware as someone draped something soft over him and lifted him out of the chair he’d fallen asleep in. He wanted to protest being carried, but instead he found himself curling into the chest of whoever was holding him, mumbling something incoherent that vaguely resembled the word ‘warm’. Whoever it was chuckled, a deep vibration in their chest that comforted the skeleton somehow. Sans sighed as he resigned himself to his new position, settling into the person’s arms…

The next thing he could remember was cold. He shivered slightly and the person carrying him paused to adjust the soft material Sans was wrapped in to cover him better. The snow crunched under their feet as they walked, and Sans could have sworn, for just a moment, that they were humming.

A sudden shift in angle caused Sans to squint his eyes open, confused. He was… in his bedroom, laying on his mattress. The only light in the room was the warm glow coming from the figure that was tucking a blanket over him. “Grillbz…?”

Grillby smiled down gently at Sans. “It’s alright,” he reassured, “Just go back to sleep.”

That was all the encouragement Sans needed.

When Sans woke up, light was filtering in through his window. A glance at his phone- when had he plugged that in?- informed him that it was a little past nine in the morning. By his standards, he was up early. By Papyrus’s standards, he’d slept in. He was definitely late for work.

Sans sat up and stretched, back and shoulders popping as everything shifted back into place. Something fell off his shoulders and he glanced down. That… wasn’t his blanket. Blinking in confusion, Sans picked up the warm black jacket he’d been wrapped in, confused. Come to think of it, how did he even get home? He had to admit, most of the day before had been a blur. He’d been exhausted out of his mind, after all. The last thing he could remember was eating lunch with Grillby.

Now that he was paying full attention to his situation, Sans realized that he felt surprisingly well rested. He hadn’t been disturbed by nightmares or resurfacing memories all night. When was the last time that had happened? His morning was just getting stranger and stranger, though not exactly in a bad way. Of course, now that he was sitting up, his bladder made its complaints known and he was forced to get out of bed. He could solve the jacket mystery later. For now, he supposed he should get his day started.

One trip to the bathroom and a shower later, and Sans was feeling more alert than he had in… he didn’t even know how long. The skeleton threw on some gym shorts and a t-shirt, heading back towards his room. That’s when Sans finally noticed him.

Glancing down into the living room, Sans did a double take. Grillby was laying on his side on the couch, glasses askew. There was a book sitting open on the floor, indicating that the bartender had fallen asleep reading. Grillby had not only taken Sans home, but had stayed with him, trying to stay awake in case his friend had another nightmare.

As Sans realized what had happened, he felt himself grow warm with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to worry his friend, much less make him feel the need to stay the night! Despite that, Sans was actually kind of touched. No, he was definitely touched. Slipping back into his room, he grabbed the blue blanket off his mattress, quietly taking it downstairs and draping it over the sleeping fire monster. He made his way into the kitchen, thinking. He wasn’t a great cook, but hey, he could get some coffee started and at least try to operate the toaster.

Sans was just pulling the fifth and sixth pieces of burnt toast (seriously, how could anyone make a toaster this complicated) when he heard a yawn coming from the living room, followed by sleepy grumbling. He poured a cup of (thankfully not burned) coffee and headed that way, smiling a bit when he saw Grillby sitting up on the couch. “Hey. The librarians are going to get onto you if you keep leaving books laying on the floor. The pages get bent that way.”

Grillby sighed and rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you too,” he mumbled gruffly. “Did you sleep well?”

Okay, Sans should not have shivered when Grillby said that, but he certainly didn’t expect Grillby’s voice to be gravelly in that way when he woke up. It made the skeleton think of a campfire, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “U-um, pretty good,” Sans managed. He held the cup of coffee out, which Grillby accepted gratefully.

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to say. Finally, Grillby spoke up. “Are you feeling any better? You looked like you felt awful yesterday.”

Sans chuckled. “Honestly? I didn’t even know how bad I felt until I woke up feeling better this morning. Thanks for bringing me home. Again.” He glanced at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did you stay up late with me?” he asked shyly. “You really didn’t have to. But, um, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” Grillby said simply. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I know that you can’t sleep without Papyrus home when you’re feeling anxious. Besides… I… well, I wanted to stay. I was worried.” He blushed and sipped on his coffee, not meeting Sans’s eyes.

“Worried?” Sans looked up at Grillby. This guy was just full of surprises lately, huh? “Aww, Grillbz,” Sans chuckled, unable to help teasing. “That was really sweet of you. I guess you can say you had a burning desire to help me?”

Grillby groaned. “Not before I’ve finished my coffee, Sans.”

You could have read this a day early! Stay updated on the latest chapters by viewing on Archive of Our Own or Wattpad. Also, if you've gotten this far, consider reblogging or just leaving a comment so other people can see this (and so I can stay motivated to keep writing). Thank you, and I hope you've enjoyed the story so far!

#undertale #sans #papyrus #grillby #sansby #sans x grillby #undertale fic #fanfic #my writing #dustywrites #how do you tag stuff #undertale a warm feeling #dusty fic

[tigerkirby215]

5e Four Elements Bow build (In-depth Theory Build)

(Screenshot from Avatar the Last Airbender.)

Water Whip.

Not that much Earth.

Flames of the Phoenix.

Fist of Unbroken Air.

Long ago, the Four Elements Monk was a viable subclass. Then, everything changed when the Fifth Edition dropped. Only Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, master of making underwhelming subclasses viable, could make this subclass playable.

A hundred years passed and Wizards of the Coast discovered the new Monk playstyle, a bow user using Dedicated Weapon. And although they’d probably be better as a Kensei, there’s still a lot of potential for a cool character. But I believe the Four Elements Monk can be a viable subclass.

Welcome back to the semi-infrequent “here’s a random build I thought would be cool that doesn’t fit any League of Legends characters” series of posts on this Tumblr. But unlike most of my builds I’m going to go fairly in-depth into this and provide as detailed of a guide as possible on playing a vanilla Four Elements Monk with a Shortbow. Honestly this is a build that I have wanted to play for awhile but it always sort of fell on the backburner because I have other characters I want to play more. Ah c’est la vie, but it still means I can share this build here!

WHAT IS THIS BUILD?

In short Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything gave the Monk two very important key features that make playing a Monk with a Shortbow viable. The first is Dedicated Weapon, allowing you to turn any weapon into a Monk weapon as long as you are proficient with it and it lacks the Heavy or Special properties. This sadly means that you can not use a Longbow (as the Longbow has the Heavy property for some reason) but this does make the Shortbow a somewhat viable option for Monks!

WHY A SHORTBOW SPECIFICALLY - Crossbows are still gimped by the Loading property, and this build isn’t designed to use Crossbow Expert since you’ll likely be using your Bonus Action for other things (attacking a lot of the time or to use features like Step of the Wind.) The only other two weapons you can use are a Light Crossbow (which only has one attack and isn’t substantially better than a Shortbow) and the Hand Crossbow (which is pretty much just objectively worse than a Shortbow if you’re not going for Crossbow Expert.)

Crossbow Expert can be used in this build but you will be losing out on a lot of the value. And I mean you could’ve honestly picked a better class than Monk for a Crossbow Expert build.

The second feature that makes this build semi-viable for a Four Elements Monk is Ki-Fueled Attack, allowing you to make an unarmed strike or Monk weapon attack as a Bonus Action if you use a Ki point on a class feature with your main action. While this does accentuate other subclasses (such as the Way of Shadow) this was primarily added to allow the Four Elements Monk to still attack after using its Elemental Disciplines.

The important wording here is that you can make a Monk Weapon attack with this feature, meaning that you can fire your Shortbow as a Bonus Action after using an Elemental Discipline. This gives you a lot more flexibility to stay in the backline as a pseudo-caster, being allowed to use the Four Elements Monk’s powerful ranged options like Clench of the North Wind (Hold Person) and Flames of the Phoenix (Fireball) without it conflicting with your intended playstyle. It’s not as much of a problem that your abilities are ranged when your basic combat is ranged too.

I mean you’d still probably be better just playing a Warlock and spamming Eldritch Blast, but at least the flavor is cool right?

WHY RUN THIS BUILD?

PROS

More flexible short rest “casting” than a Warlock.

Get to use an underplayed subclass.

Get to use a weapon that isn’t often used in 5e (the Shortbow.)

Get to take the Monk class in a unique direction not often possible with other subclasses / builds.

CONS

Very limited use of your other core Monk abilities (notably Stunning Strike.)

Your DPS will be subpar in comparison to other dedicated ranged builds.

You’re still playing Four Elements Monk lmao. (You’ll have all the problems of Four Elements Monk, notably the insane Ki consumption and rather underwhelming spell scaling.)

Like, you’d honestly just be better just playing an Improved Pact Weapon Warlock.

In short the literal only reason to run this build is just to try to make Four Elements Monk viable. If you want something stronger just play a Crossbow Expert Fighter. If you want a viable bow fighter then Kensei Monk is also a considerably better option.

Also because I’m going far more in-depth this time I’m going to be explaining a lot of different options, which are going to be marked and color coded as follows:

✨ OPTIMAL - Grants unique abilities that empower the build specifically.

🌟 GREAT - Very good option with no weaknesses / losses in opportunity cost.

⭐ GOOD - Strong option in its own right but perhaps not too powerful for the build at hand.

👍 OK - Decent enough but mostly for roleplay than actual practicality. Has some flaws that don’t stack up well, or simply doesn’t provide enough to be chosen over other options.

👎 BAD - Don’t pick this option lol. There are other options that are just objectively better.

RACE

So remember how I said I’d go far more in-depth with this guide? Well I’m going to cover all the races, and the pros and cons of each.

👎 DRAGONBORN

While it’s certainly flavorful you’re hardly ever going to get into range to use your breath weapon, and since it scales off Constitution it likely won’t hit even if you get to use it. Your damage resistances will be situational at best. There are honestly better races to get damage resistances from.

👎 PHB DRAGONBORN

See above.

👎 DRACONBLOOD (Wildemount)

You’re a Wisdom class. You shouldn’t be making Charisma checks. Losing your damage resistance for Charisma checks is bad if not arguably worse than the base PHB Dragonborn.

👍 RAVENITE (Wildemount)

The ability to shoot back at someone who hits you honestly isn’t completely worthless, but in this build more than any other Monk build you’re likely going to be using Deflect Missiles a lot. It’s up to you if you think tanking a shot is worth it to shoot back but I’d sooner just play a race with more useful abilities overall.

👎 CHROMATIC (UA)

Total damage immunity is neat. Doesn’t stop the breath weapon from being largely useless.

👎 METALLIC (UA)

The Metallic breath weapon can be nice to give yourself some space, but it’ll come up so rarely it’s not worth taking an entire race for it.

👍 GEM (UA)

Now this is mildly interesting. Having a (non-Concentration!) Flight ability once per Long Rest can be useful! Thing is you’ll likely be using Ride the Wind in this build quite frequently, so Flight loses a lot of its value. And again: both your breath weapon and your damage resistance will largely wind up being redundant.

👍 DWARF

An amusing prospect but there aren’t many Dwarf subraces that work well for a Monk. Thankfully Tasha’s allows you to swap the proficiencies from Dwarven Combat Training with tools (or possibly even a Hand Crossbow if you swing that way) but you still won’t be able to use a Longbow because lol “Heavy weapon.”

👍 DUERGAR

Both Enlarge / Reduce and Invisibility can be useful, but they’re both Concentration spells which means you can’t use them at the same time as your Elemental Disciplines. And man does that Sunlight Sensitivity hurt! Your mileage may vary based on how frequently your party fights in the daytime, but this race is suboptimal at best and seriously detremental at worst.

👍 HILL

I mean, I’m not going to complain about extra health, but it’s largely redundant for a backline character. Take it if you want to dump CON like a gamer.

👎 MARK OF WARDING (Eberron)

None of the spells you get are that good, and you likely aren’t going to be making Investigation / Thieves’ Tools checks as a Monk.

👎 MOUNTAIN

I mean if you want to powergame for that sweet +2 DEX / +2 WIS. A +1 ASI isn’t worth the completely worthless armor proficiencies in my opinion.

👍 ELF

Ah an all-time classic. Can’t go wrong with the Elf Archer. But of course what we’re really here for is the subraces, as the baseline Elf package doesn’t provide much. The one thing that’s worth mentioning is that Elves do gain access to the Elven Accuracy feat, but since you’re likely going to be using Clench of the North Wind (Hold Person) your attacks are going to be auto-critting anyways, so it’s not as useful for this build as it is for an average Monk using Stunning Strike.

Regarding the Aereni, Valenar, and PHB High / Wood elves (Eberron) - The Aereni Elves get Expertise in one skill, making them by far the best Elf if given the option to choose. The Valenar and baseline elves just get weapon proficiencies which you will end up swapping anyways as the only weapon you’re going to use extensively is the Shortbow.

👎 DROW

Your spells scale off Charisma and you have very little practical use for Darkness. Sunlight Sensitivity takes an already suboptimal choice and makes it actively detrimental.

👍 ELADRIN

Teleportation is never not useful. I’d primarily opt for the Spring variant for some utility with allies, but Winter and Autum can also be useful. With all that being said I may be tempted just to play a High Elf for the Fey Teleportation feat.

👍 HIGH ELF

The cantrip can be useful if you take a utility cantrip like Message, Mending, or even Prestidigitation. (I’m actually playing a High Elf Monk right now!) But again: the real reason to play a High Elf is the Fey Teleportation feat.

⭐ MARK OF SHADOW (Eberron)

A nice cantrip, a boost to stealth, and (most notably) the Invisibility spell. Good options if you want a bit of Rogue in your Monk.

🌟 PALLID (Wildemount)

Invisibility is nice but Sleep and Light vary in utility. The real utility however is the Advantage on Insight checks, which for a Wisdom character will be consistently useful! Advantage on Investigation checks is also nice to have.

👍 SEA

Are you in an aquatic campaign? Well here’s your subrace. Are you not in an aquatic campaign? Then this subrace is almost completely pointless.

🌟 SHADAR-KAI

Pretty much objectively better than the Eladrin, and offer a compelling argument to be played with their Necrotic resistance and damage resistant teleport. Just be ready to be called an edgelord for playing the death elf.

⭐ WOOD

5 extra feet of movement goes a long way for a Monk, and being able to hide goes a long way for an archer. The Wood Elf Magic feat isn’t all that useful for you unfortunately.

⭐ GNOME

Gnomes arguably became one of the strongest races in the game in general now that Tasha’s allows you to move their Intelligence boost elsewhere. Gnome Cunning is damn useful, and their subraces aren’t half bad either!

👍 DEEP (Svirfneblin)

Woah an Underdark race that doesn’t have Sunlight Sensitivity?! Memes aside this race has a similar problem as the other Underdark races for slightly better reasons. While other Underdark races are useless in the light Deep Gnomes by contrast don’t do anything when outside of a cave, as Stone Camouflage is situational at best. Still: you can do worse!

⭐ FOREST

Get Minor Illusion, talk to squirrels. Very fun to roleplay though perhaps not the most practical in-combat. You’d be surprised how useful getting help from the birds and the bees can be while out-of-combat, however.

👎 MARK OF SCRIBING (Eberron)

Ah yes; NPC race. Let’s be honest you are only picking this race for roleplay.

👎 ROCK

Even with the bonus to History checks your Intelligence likely won’t be high enough to succeed on them. The Tinkerer trait (while fun) likely won’t be that useful overall.

🌟 HALF ELF

+4 to your starting stats is never a bad thing.

🌟 PHB HALF ELF

+4 to your starting stats and two free skills? Sign me up!

👍 AQUATIC

Is your campaign an Aquatic campaign? If so, proceed to page 4.

👎 DROW

Your casting is still based on Charisma, and you still have little use for Darkness. Even if you don’t have Sunlight Sensitivity the spellcasting won’t be used much realistically.

👎 HIGH

The main reason to make a High Elf Monk is Fey Teleportation, and as a Half Elf you are denied access to that feat.

👍 MARK OF DETECTION (Eberron)

You get some nice utility spells and a bonus to Insight checks. The Wizard can honestly be the one to cast Detect Magic instead, but if no one’s playing a caster you can take that duty.

👍 MARK OF STORM (Eberron)

Boosting your Acrobatics checks is nice for a Monk. Everything else is kinda situational, especially since you can get Gust of Wind as an Elemental Discipline. But let’s be real: the main reason to pick a Dragonmark is roleplay, not practicality.

👎 WOOD

Hiding better or moving slightly faster isn’t worth losing two skill proficiencies.

🌟 HALFLING

You’ll be thanking me when Lucky saves you.

🌟 GHOSTWISE

Telepathy is extremely underrated. At worst it’s a way to justify mid-combat strategizing with your allies, but at best it can be an insanely useful stealth tool.

⭐ LIGHTFOOT

Being able to hide can be useful, but you’re not Rogue.

🌟 LOTUSDEN (Wildemount)

More casting to augment your Four Elements flavor (reflavor your spells as Earth manipulation) and the ability to ignore difficult terrain. The only downside is that the innate spellcasting provided from your race also takes Concentration, but more options are never a bad thing.

🌟 MARK OF HEALING (Eberron)

👏 Cure 👏 Wounds! 👏 It’s more than worth it to have a one-time use of Cure Wounds; boosts to Medicine checks and a one-time use of Lesser Restoration is also extremely useful.

👎 MARK OF HOSPITALITY (Eberron)

Ah yes; NPC race. You’re not a Charisma class so what little utility this race would have is lost completely.

👎 STOUT

Monks get immunity to poison by level 10, but if you’re not going to hit level 10 this might be useful?

👍 HALF-ORC

Relentless Endurance could be useful, but Savage Attacks are largely wasted in a ranged build.

👍 PHB HALF-ORC

See above.

⭐ MARK OF FINDING (Eberron)

A one-time use of Hunter’s Mark may actually be worth it, and Hunter’s Intuition is nice too. Still doesn’t stop Savage Attacks from being worthless in a ranged build.

⭐ HUMAN

Mmmm feat. You know I’m going to speak highly of Variant Human, but we can at least talk about the Eberron humans too.

👎 PHB HUMAN

And the baseline human... +1 in everything is worthless; you don’t need an increase to your dump stats.

⭐ MARK OF FINDING (Eberron)

Honestly I think I’d prefer being an Orc. But yeah: Hunter’s Mark is genuinely worth it, and Hunter’s Intuition doesn’t hurt either.

👍 MARK OF HANDLING (Eberron)

“Hello mister DM I wish to play a Pokemon trainer.” You know exactly what you’re doing as a Mark of Handling Human.

⭐ MARK OF MAKING (Eberron)

Being able to make your bow a +1 almost makes you as good as a Kensei?

🌟 MARK OF PASSAGE (Eberron)

Misty Step once per Long Rest is nice. A boost to Acrobatics is also nice. And 5 extra feet of movement is good too. Together? You’ve got a nice package that comes with roleplay of a Dragonmarked house!

👍 MARK OF SENTINEL (Eberron)

Shield likely won’t be that useful for you as a Monk. The swapping ability can allow you to take a hit for an ally however, and sharing damage is generally a good idea. There are better options overall however (notably you could take 4 levels in Cleric for Warding Bond.)

✨ VARIANT HUMAN

You no longer have to ask if Sharpshooter is worth it, which makes Variant Human a good choice in its own right.

BTW it goes without saying that Custom Lineage is similarly good for this build.

👎 TIEFLING

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless. This means that the only ability you’ll be using frequently is the Fire resistance, which is situational at best.

I’m also not going to mention the Feral Tiefling as the only change is your stat bonuses, which are made redundant by Tasha’s.

👎 PHB TIEFLING

See above.

👎 BAALZEBUL 

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

👍 DISPATER 

Disguise Self is actually not completely useless! I mean, I’d rather be a Changeling. But if Changelings are banned...!

👎 FIERNA

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

⭐ GLASYA 

Far more useful than Dispater as all the spells are useful (instead of just one.) Still doesn’t change the fact that I’d honestly rather be a Changeling.

👎 LEVISTUS 

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

👍 MAMMON

All of your innate spells are largely utility based... So what you’re saying is that the Wizard should be casting those spells instead?

👎 MEPHISTOPHELES 

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

👎 VARIANT - DEVIL’S TONGUE

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

👎 VARIANT - HELLFIRE

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

🌟 VARIANT - WINGED

The one Tiefling I’d genuinely consider! Innate flight is always a huge boon, and the Fire Resistance becomes a nice bonus. Thing is you will likely be using Ride the Wind to give yourself Flight. But being able to concentrate on other Elemental Disciplines is nice!

👍 ZARIEL

You can at least use Branding Smite on Ranged attacks, but Searing Smite will be completely useless.

👍 LEONIN

Your main ability of Daunting Roar is largely redundant. Everything else is nice but I’d sooner pick a Half Elf or Variant Human.

⭐ SATYR

Magic resistance is always good, and better jumps as a Monk is never bad. Thing is that you legit get nothing else other than skills I guess.

⭐ AARAKOCRA

Innate flight is always a huge boon. Thing is you will likely be using Ride the Wind to give yourself Flight. But being able to concentrate on other Elemental Disciplines is nice!

I’d rather a Winged Tiefling for Fire Resistance, but it’s worth mentioning that  Aarakocra have absolutely ridiculous flight speed (50 base, up to 80 at max Monk level.) I mean if your DM hasn’t banned the Aarakocra go ahead I guess.

⭐ GENASI

CON casting isn’t the best, but there are some good options. And of course being an elemental being as a Four Elements Monk is super fun!

⭐ AIR

Levitate is nice, and you can be Aang!

🌟 EARTH

Pass Without Trace can be extremely useful for your party, and Earth Walk lets you keep your mobility up.

👎 FIRE

You can cast Burning Hands as an Elemental Discipline, and Produce Flame is just a worse Light cantrip for you.

🌟 WATER

An obvious choice if you want to lean into the Water Bender aspect, and a really good way for you to produce water for the Elemental Disciplines that require it. (Shape the Flowing River.) Also one of the few ways you can get Acid resistance (like that’s going to come up) and an all-around great choice if in an Aquatic campaign.

👍 GOLIATH

Stone’s Endurance is largely redundant. That basically just leaves Mountain Born which is... alright?

🌟 AASIMAR

Like lowkey Aasimar are kinda OP? Damage resistances, a bit of healing, some Light for your allies (or yourself I guess), and three powerful transformation options at level 3.

👎 FALLEN

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting Fear ability will be largely useless.

Protector is pretty much objectively better since you likely won’t be getting into melee range for the fear anyways.

✨ PROTECTOR

This is the one flying race that I won’t say invalidates Ride the Wind. Having a once-per-day “master let me go all out just this once” ability is extremely for when... well, you have to go all out! Increasing your damage output and being able to concentrate on other Elemental Disciplines is very nice.

👎 SCOURGE

YOU. ARE. LITERALLY. KILLING. YOURSELF. No! Just go for Protector!

👍 VARIANT?

I mean I don’t know why you would but having Lesser Restoration and Daylight might be useful? The official Aasimar is kinda just objectively better though.

👍 BUGBEAR

Your long-limbed trait will mostly be wasted, but Surprise Attack might have some use.

✨ FIRBOLG

Actually an insanely good option if you want to defy the norm and play an 8 foot tall Monk. You have some good innate spellcasting, non-concentration Invisibility that takes your Bonus Action (easily the most useful feature for this build), and Speech of Beast and Leaf as an added bonus. I’d probably only play a Critical Roll cowbolg as a Firbolg, but it’s certainly a great option both in and out of combat!

✨ GOBLIN

Fury of the Small is nice, but what you’re really here for is Nimble Escape. Play what I’d humbly call “shitty Rogue” and Hide every turn with your Bonus Action if you don’t use it for something else.

👍 HOBGOBLIN

Saving Face isn’t worth playing a race that’s otherwise dead in the water. Fun for roleplay I guess and has nothing that goes against your playstyle, but very underwhelming overall.

⭐ HOBGOBLIN OF THE FEYWILD (UA)

I still have no fucking idea why this race exists, but I digress: being able to Help as a Bonus Action is certainly useful, and your three Fey Gift options are good as well. This subclass just gives you more uses of your Bonus Action overall, which (combined with general Monk features) means that you should be able to do something everything round. I’d sooner opt for a plain-old Goblin but I guess if you want some Fey flavor without being an Elf?

⭐ KENKU

Skills are nice. Mimicry is nice. Forgery is nice. This is an RP-heavy race, and you are likely picking it for the RP.

🌟 KOBOLD

Pack Tactics is bullshit overpowered. Sunlight Sensitivity does make it considerably worse however. Results will vary based on what your DM allows.

👍 UA KOBOLD

The loss of Pack Tactics hurts, and none of the options you gain really make up for it. Still the option for advantage against fears or a free cantrip can be nice.

👍 LIZARDFOLK

Very fun to roleplay but you won’t be using a single feature from this race except Hunter’s Lore and maybe Cunning Artisan (if your DM lets you make bone-tipped arrows.)

👍 ORC

So I’m just going to ignore the Volo’s Orcs since the Eberron / Wildemount Orcs are objectively better. With that being said: Aggressive is largely redundant for a ranged build, which just leaves Primal Intuition and I guess Powerful Build as the only traits of use you get. Nothing works against your character but there’s nothing particularly good.

✨ TABAXI

No matter how you spin it Feline Agility is insane for a Monk.

👍 TRITON

The most mediocre of the aquatic options next to perhaps the Sea Elf. Gust as an innate spell will largely go to waste due to your low Charisma, Fog Cloud is meh, and Wall of Water is also subpar. Good for Waterbender roleplay but that’s about it.

👍 YUAN-TI

Get yelled at for playing an overpowered race any% speedrun.

You won’t be increasing your Charisma so your innate casting will be largely useless.

That just leaves you with poison immunity (gained at Monk level 10) and Magic resistance... I’d sooner play a Gnome or Satyr.

👍 TORTLE

Cute, and your Natural Armor will be useful until you hit 20 DEX / 14 WIS. Thing is you don’t need high AC much as a ranged fighter, and the usefulness of this race tapers off massively once the only good thing it provides (its shell) becomes a detriment instead of a boon.

⭐ CHANGELING

You’re not exactly a Charisma character, but innate Disguise Self is never not useful. You can get around low Charisma if you have a lenient DM and good roleplay.

⭐ KALASHTAR 

The best way I can describe the Kalashtar is “neat but nothing I’d lose my head over.” Advantage on Wisdom saves is nice, Psychic resistance is nice, and telepathy is also nice. But none of these are traits that I’m going to go out of my way to get. Play a Kalashtar if you like the roleplay, I guess.

👎 SHIFTER

Le furry has arrived. You don’t really need the Temp HP provided by Shifting.

👎 BEASTHIDE

You don’t need AC or Temp HP as a backliner.

👎 LONGTOOTH

You’re a Monk. Why are you taking a race that gets a Bonus Action attack?

👍 SWIFTSTRIDE

Can be good to play keep-away, but I think I’d sooner play a race with higher base movement. You won’t trigger the Swiftstride reaction much.

👍 WILDHUNT

Advantage on Wisdom checks can be useful. Making enemies unable to hit you with Advantage however will come up incredibly rarely.

👎 WARFORGED

The AC boost is largely wasted on a backliner, and the race provides little else of value. Cool RP though.

👍 GITH

Githyanki and Githzerai

Elves that look like they wanna die

All they're about is how they clash

Been around 40 years and their lore's still trash

🌟 GITHYANKI

Like, your spells actually aren’t that shit? Mage Hand is always useful as is Misty Step, and Jump actually has some use for a Monk. (I mean, you also have the Fly spell but...) Add in some tools and languages and there’s actually a fairly compelling argument to play a Gith! I mean, assuming you actually want to play a Gith.

👎 GITHZERAI

Wisdom spellcasting! Thing is that Shield probably won’t be that useful overall and neither will Detect Thoughts. This just leaves you with Mage Hand and Mental Discipline that’s largely made redundant by Stillness of Mind at level 7.

🌟 CENTAUR

You’re trading 40 foot base movement for a slower climbing speed, but you’re going to gain the ability to fly so the poor climbing speed probably won’t matter much. The Fey classification and skill proficiencies also help so if you’re fine with the mental image of a centaur flying around like it’s DBZ.

👎 LOXODON

The natural armor trait is completely wasted as you’ll be using Monk Unarmored AC. That just leaves the trunk for punching, but you can easily let go of your bow for a moment to punch someone who got too close. Could be worth considering if your DM’s an ass with weapon swapping.

👎 MINOTAUR

Every singe trait is worthless for a Monk. Your class will provide you everything that this race would provide.

👎 SIMIC HYBRID

None of the animal enhancements are particularly useful. 

⭐ VEDALKEN

Same rating as gnomes because they’re basically just tall blue gnomes. Just play a gnome instead of a smurf.

⭐ VERDAN

Same rating as gnomes because they’re basically gnomes who heal more during short rests and have telepathic emotions. Losing out on Intelligence saves kinda sucks but rerolling 1s and 2s on hit die during Short Rests more than makes up for it.

🌟 DHAMPIR

Unlimited Spider Climb is rather interesting for a ranged character, and being able to increase the damage of your bite to get more value out of the empowerment features is a nice option to have if you’re forced into melee. Just make sure your DM has the same ideas about the bite as you.

⭐ HEXBLOOD

A once per Long Rest Hex might genuinely be worth it. Having Disguise Self and the Magic Token is also great for roleplay.

👍 REBORN

Knowledge from a Past Life can give you some out-of-combat utility and... well that’s about it really. If I wanted to be a skill monkey I’d play a Rogue.

👍 LOCATHA

Natural Armor is useless. Observant and Athletic is underwhelming. Leviathan Will however is still comedically overpowered. You can easily carry a tub of water with you and use your Four Elements powers to keep yourself wet.

👍 GRUNG

Poison can be moderately useful in the early game but it falls off massively late game. The need for water really isn’t a problem, but you’re trading a small (yet noticable) downside for a very small upside.

⭐ FAIRY (UA)

Flight and the Faerie Fire spell that can be cast with Wisdom. Nothing overly special but it’s certainly not bad.

⭐ OWLFOLK (UA)

Having Detect Magic as a ritual without being a spellcaster is very nice, and takes some of the stress off your casters. The real benefit however is Nimble Flight, which allows you to keep your height even if damaged. You do have Slow Fall of course so it’s not like Nimble Flight is saving you much.

👍 RABBITFOLK (UA)

I still don’t see much of value in this race. There’s nothing that would stop me from playing it but it just feels so underwhelming to me overall.

ABILITY SCORES

The big question you’re probably asking is if you should max Dexterity or Wisdom... Max Dexterity lol. You’re still a bow fighter first and foremost. Even if you have ready access to spellcasting you won’t be using it much, and a lot of the options you have available will do damage even if the enemy succeed on their saving throw.

DISCIPLINES

LEVEL 3

👎 Elemental Attunement

Prestidigitation, but worse! It’s not so much that this option is bad but rather that you have so few options to begin with spending one of your precious disciplines on glorified Prestidigitation feels like a joke. Ask your DM if you can just have the Prestidigitation cantrip (or more ideally the four elemental cantrips from EEPC) and get something else that’s more useful.

👎 Fangs of the Fire Snake

You have a bow.

⭐ Fist of Four Thunders (Thunderwave)

Actually not godawful as a get-off-me tool early on. The low Ki cost means that you can (hopefully) knock your target(s) back, shoot them, and then run with your increased Monk movement speed.

👍 Fist of Unbroken Air

The 30 foot range combined with the fact that it knocks the target prone makes this somewhat undesirable. It’s essentially 2 Ki points to fire an arrow that knocks the target back and knocks them prone. It can make for very good synergy with the melee characters in your party pre-Stunning Strike but by level 3 it costs over half your Ki to use it.

👍 Rush of the Gale Spirits (Gust of Wind)

Another decent get-off-me tool but there are so many other, better options. Honest to god when’s the last time you’ve seriously used Gust of Wind?

👍 Shape the Flowing River

Very fun and flavorful but your mileage will vary massively depending on where your campaign takes place and what your DM lets you get away with. If you’re playing Ghosts of Saltmarsh this is crazy good. If you’re in Descent into Avernus? Not so much.

👎 Sweeping Cinder Strike (Burning Hands)

Very low range. Fist of Four Thunders will probably get you more mileage as it’ll do AoE damage and give you space.

👍 Water Whip

Fist of Unbroken Air but you can choose to either pull them closer or knock them prone... Thing is you’re hardly ever going to want to pull them in closer as a ranged fighter.

LEVEL 6

✨ Clench of the North Wind (Hold Person)

“Why would you use this over Stunning Strike?” Because you’re in the backline with a bow, ya dummy! One of the main elemental disciplines you should be using in this build as you can’t just run up and Stunning Strike instead. It’s still extremely Ki inefficient but around level 9 you can spend 4 Ki points (half your Ki lol) to paralyze 2 people, which is kinda good? Like sure a Warlock could paralyze 4 people twice by that point with Hold Person but...

🌟 Gong of the Summit (Shatter)

A strong AoE option before you gain access to Flames of the Phoenix (IE Fireball.) By the point that you get Flames of the Phoenix that will almost always be better unless you’re fighting like, exclusively Monks and Rogues. But until then this is a great AoE option that leverages one of the few strengths of the Four Elements Monk.

LEVEL 11

✨ Flames of the Phoenix (Fireball)

It’s Fireball. Arguably one of the few Elemental Disciplines actually worth picking this subclass over. It’s a shame it comes online so late (by this point casters have 6th level spells) but it still manages to keep competetively viable when compared to the big spells.

👍 Mist Stance (Gaseous Form)

A decent escape tool in a very tense situation, but I’d sooner use the next option on this list.

✨ Ride the Wind (Fly)

The main ability you’re going to be using in this build; shame it comes online at level 11. Flight for any ranged build is extremely useful, and you can essentially cast flight twice on yourself at this point and up to 3 times in one level.

LEVEL 17

⭐ Breath of Winter (Cone of Cold)

A good AoE option but it’s hampered somewhat because it originates from your character, making it hard to position since you’re going to be running around with a bow.

👎 Eternal Mountain Defense (Stoneskin)

Oh boy I sure do love resistance to nonmagical damage at level 17.

⭐ River of Hungry Flame (Wall of Fire)

Big damage in a large, continual AoE that serves as a good capstone for a bad class.

👍 Wave of Rolling Earth (Wall of Stone)

This would be good if you didn’t get it by level 17. Most enemies are going to be able to break through it which makes what little utility it has completely pointless. But I mean at least it’s not Eternal Mountain Defense?

THEORETICAL ELEMENTAL DISCIPLINE BUILD

LEVEL 3

(Elemental Attunement)

Fist of Four Thunders

LEVEL 6

Fist of Four Thunders

Clench of the North Wind

Gong of the Summit

LEVEL 11

Fist of Four Thunders

Clench of the North Wind

Flames of the Phoenix

Ride the Wind

LEVEL 17

Fist of Four Thunders

Clench of the North Wind

Flames of the Phoenix

Ride the Wind

River of Hungry Flame

FEATS

I’m not going to go over every feat but I will mention ones to consider and ones to avoid. Remember that (especially as a Monk and especially as a Four Elements Monk) maxing out your Dexterity and Wisdom should be your top priority.

🌟 ALERT

You already have high DEX so going first would allow you to get Hold Person or Fly off and start shooting.

👎 CROSSBOW EXPERT

You may be tempted to use a crossbow for this build... don’t. If the Artificer got you a Repeating Crossbow that’s cool, but there’s no reason to use a Hand Crossbow in this build. (Especially since you likely won’t have the proficiency for it anyways.)

👎 CRUSHER

Normally a very good feat for Monks but it’s rendered vastly less useful since you’ll be primarily using a bow.

👎 ELVEN ACCURACY

Clench of the North Wind (Hold Person) will make you auto-crit anyways so there are better options available.

👍 FIGHTING INITIATE

+2 to hit from the Archery Fighting Style isn’t worth losing an ASI.

⭐ MAGIC INITIATE

I actually wouldn’t be against MI (Druid) for Guidance, Druidcraft, and Healing Word. Shillelagh unfortunately isn’t as good for you since you need DEX for the bow, and since your Elemental Disciplines are technically “casting” spells you can’t cast Healing Word after using one of them.

👎 MOBILE

You have a bow. Extra movement speed is nice but everything else is largely wasted, especially since you have Elemental Disciplines to give yourself space.

🌟 PIERCER

If you have an uneven DEX score this should be the feat you take. Clench of the North Wind (Hold Person) gives you autocrits which makes the x3 damage from Piercer insanely valuable.

⭐ RESILIENT (CON)

You do need to concentrate on your Elemental Disciplines, and while you are more capable of avoiding damage than most (thanks mostly to Deflect Missiles) you can still easily lose your Concentration. If you can afford the ASI it’s more than worth it.

✨ SHARPSHOOTER

If you’re asking if Sharpshooter is worth it the answer is always yes. It’s not just the damage but the range and ability to ignore cover. I’d probably max my DEX first but at level 12 (Starting at 17 with Standard Array: Lvl 4 Piercer feat > Lvl 8 +2 DEX) I’d take Sharpshooter over a Wisdom increase, as you are still a bow fighter first and foremost.

👎 WAR CASTER

Advantage on Concentration is nice but everything else largely goes to waste, especially since you likely won’t be in range to provoke opportunity attacks anyways. Opt for Resilient (CON) instead.

CONCLUSION

Just play a Warlock, Druid, or Eldritch Knight lol. No matter how you look at it the Four Elements Monk simply scales too slowly and uses up too much Ki to be considered viable.

With that being said: if you’re fine with being subpar in comparison to your peers this build isn’t bad for play between Tier 2 and Tier 3 (from level 6 to around level 14.) You can still leverage the general strengths of the Monk class (Deflect Missiles, Evasion, high movement speed) without facing as many of the class’ inherent weaknesses thanks to the range provided by a shortbow.

Yes you could accomplish the same thing with a Kensei Monk, Shadow Monk, or even Mercy Monk but you get to play a unique fun class with this build. Just maybe ask your DM if you can get more Ki...

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd monk #dnd four elements monk #four elements monk #bow #dnd bow #bow monk #dnd bow monk #avatar the last airbender #lol this build is so bad #seriously just play a warlock

[blossom-hwa]

Bloom - HAN JISUNG

did i purposely edit this fic so it had exactly 11111 words? you bet

if you read moonstruck remember what i said about a series of nature spirit stories? well HERE’S PART TWO

(i will add links later because my posts don’t show up in the tags if there are links so anyway screw tumblr ig)

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, nature spirit!au

Triggers: mild violence

Word Count: 11k

The trickster fae are known for destruction, not growth, but one repenting fae helps a mortal bloom.

Spinoffs: Perfect | Tiny Steps (I’ll Hold Your Hand)

SKZ Masterlist | Whispers of Nature

They say danger lies within the forest that marks the southern border of the village. But at this moment, you can’t really bring yourself to care.

If there is danger, let it come. You’re far too tired to think of the consequences of your actions and even if they result in death, you would rather die at the hands of Mother Nature than those of your fellow villagers.

But you forgot about the infamous screech owl. Just the thing that killed several foolish children who ventured into the forest several years ago.

It swoops down without a sound.

You wonder how an animal so large can move so quietly.

Then you see its eyes screaming rage and murder and your body finally moves.

Curses stream from your lips as you throw yourself to the side, landing hard on the pretty green grass. There’ll be a stain on your tunic after this that’ll be a pain to wash off.

If you get out of here alive.

It swoops down again and you veer left, pushing yourself to your feet. Wind whistles and the owl screeches and you scream.

This is how it ends, I guess.  

Then something shimmers into being and the owl stops sharply, an expression mimicking your fear rising into its eyes. You remain rooted in place, eyes fixed upon the being in front of you.

The boy looks around your age. He glows in the fading daylight, his bare feet floating above the forest floor. Blonde hair falls down to his neck, and when he turns around, you can see it brushes across the top of his forehead, nearly hanging into his eyes. Green tunic. Brown pants. His clothes are so simple and plain, but he wears them like a prince.

He smiles at you, a heart-shaped smile that leaves you wondering what kind of being he is.

He turns back around and you don’t know what he does, but with a last screech, the owl flies away. You rack your brain for any clues on what this beautiful boy could be, but he faces you again and your mind goes blank.

He’s really rather beautiful.

“Hello.” Even that one word sounds so warm and inviting. Sparkling eyes glimmer with mischief. “What does a beautiful lady like you in this dangerous forest?”

It takes a moment to get your voice back. “Nothing much,” you finally reply.

“Pretty humans don’t belong in forests like this, where danger may lurk in any corner.” He floats a little closer, his glow beginning to warm your skin. He drifts down until he’s standing (is he really standing? He looks a bit translucent) in front of you. If you leaned forward just a few inches, your lips would touch his. “Especially not those with eyes as beautiful as yours.”

Your breath hitches. He’s staring at you with an uncomfortable (yet somehow alluring) intensity that wipes half the thought from your mind. No one has ever stared you in the eye with anything more than malice, fear, or disgust.

And certainly no one has ever said your eyes are beautiful.

“I wanted to be alone,” you get out. “Solitude.”

His eyes sparkle. “Very dangerous,” he says, nodding gravely, but you can see understanding in the curl of his lips. “I don’t know if you’re brave or foolhardy to seek solitude in the forest, especially so close to dark.”

“Foolhardy, probably.” You shiver slightly as the cooling wind sweeps across your skin. “Thank you for your help with the…”

Oh.

Realization fills your mind. Only a few beings could frighten an owl with their mere presence, and only one happens to glow.

He is one of the fae.

“Are you from the faerie ring?”

He has to pick up on your sudden shift in mood. All mortals know that fae can be dangerous, even lethal, in their intentions and tricks. The first thing village children learn is if they ever happen to stray into the forest, they must avoid the faerie ring. The fae have kidnapped many children, and never do they bring them back.

You know the guarded look that must be upon your face – you wear it every time you walk into the village square. But despite your realization, nothing changes on the fae’s shimmering, translucent face – he keeps grinning that same heart-shaped grin. He dips into a deep bow. “At your service, my lady.”

“Oh,” you murmur, stepping back. It’s less of a murmur than an exhale of surprise, really. No one has ever shown you such respect before – even if it is teasing, as this bow seems to be. But when the fae rises, you sense no malice. Only gentle mischief.

Silence stretches between you two until you clear your throat. “Well, Lord fae, thank you for your help with the owl.”

“It was my pleasure.” If possible, his smile grows wider.

“If there was possibly something I could do in return…” you trail off, lost in thought.

“Actually, there is.” His face holds an expression of pure innocence, but glinting eyes tell you too late that you may have made a grave mistake. The fae holds out one hand. “May I have your name?”

You almost say it. After all, when someone asks for your name, it is only polite to give it.

But typically, those who ask for names are not fae, trickster beings of high power. For them, giving a name means giving control. And when names fall upon the wrong tongue…

You don’t want to know what will happen next.

Mouth clamped shut, you think quickly, staring at the outstretched hand. Finally, you speak, words slow and careful.

“Lord fae, I’m afraid I cannot give you my name for it belongs to me and only me,” you reply politely. “But if it so pleases you, you may call me Nae Ireum.”

It’s the oldest trick in the book, telling a fae to call them by “my own self.” You know he would never fall for it and the laughter bursting from his lips tells you that you were right. As he laughs, you school your expression into one of slight amusement, but you know you cannot quite hide your fear.

What if he does not take your refusal lightly?

“Very good,” the fae chokes out, laughter gone. “You are a smart one, my lady.” He drops his hand to his side and smiles widely. “You have been taught well.”

“I taught myself,” you reply in a moment of brazen confidence.

“Then you must be a wonderful scholar.” He winks. “If you will not give me my first request, then at least allow me to escort you to the village.”

What?

You blink. “Why?”

“It would only be proper for a lord to escort his lady safely home,” he teases.

Maybe you smile shyly, but no one but this fae is here to confirm it, so you ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m not your lady,” you mutter.

“Of course, my lady.” His tone turns cheeky and you realize winning against this fae will not be possible. So instead of releasing the retort upon your lips, you only sigh. He grins in victory. “Let’s go!”

He stays with you for the entire hour-long walk back to the village, keeping you occupied with flirty words and teasing grins that make you feel as though you are simply speaking to a handsome boy, rather than a millennia-old fae of the forest. For the first time in years, you feel light of heart. His gaze rarely strays from yours but he does not make you feel uncomfortable, not even with your strange green eyes. No, he speaks to you like a human being, like someone who has a life and a story and a soul.

The sky is nearly dark by the time you reach the edge of the forest. “Thank you, Lord fae,” you whisper, feeling suddenly shy. His glow and his gaze make you feel warmer in the sunset.

His heart-shaped grin grows gentler. “It was my pleasure. If I could, I would kiss your hand.” He winks. “Alas, this form will not allow me to do so. Be safe, my lady. And keep the tears out of your eyes – it will only make them more beautiful.”

With those last parting words, he disappears into a soft flash of light, and you are left to wonder if the last few hours were only a figment of your imagination.

. . . . .

Jisung dozes slightly one day in the warm light of the fae realm. The queen seems to be in a good mood, for the weather is pretty and picturesque, and even the pixies have ventured out of hiding to dance among the waving blades of grass.

In the past, Jisung may have toyed with them, played little pranks and sent them fleeing back into their gardens. He would have laughed at their hatred towards his kind and taken pleasure in heightening that hate. But today, he only keeps his eyes closed and lets the pixies flit around him. So long as they cause no harm, he won’t either.

Then a small disturbance triggers in the back of his mind and he sits up, a half-frown, half-smile upon his face. Someone is near his faerie ring.

Maybe it’s the person he hopes it will be.

Green eyes flash through his mind. Not the forest green of the dryads (who didn’t wake up the entire time you and Jisung were causing a ruckus, which is really a testament to how soundly they sleep), but paler, realer, more intense. Still, though, Jisung finds one thing in common between your eyes and theirs: your quiet strength. The strength of the earth.

Jisung wouldn’t mind seeing you again.

He summons himself to the ring, where a pleasant surprise greets him. At the sight of your shocked face, he grins. “Back so soon, my lady?”

Your bright green eyes look slightly dazed, which is to be expected – the ring has power, and it likes to pull unsuspecting mortals towards it. Thankfully, you have enough presence of mind to resist, though Jisung feels a little put out by your backing away.

“Yes,” you answer shortly. You shake your head slightly as though shaking off the pull of the ring, and when you look up again, your eyes are clearer.

“For solitude again, or for something else?” His smile grows wider as he comes to a realization. “Perhaps you just couldn’t wait to see me again? After all, you took the trouble to find my ring.”

He prays he doesn’t sound too hopeful.

You snort. “As if,” you sniff, though your eyes betray your amusement. “I came out of curiosity. To see if I could find the forbidden faerie ring.” Your legs wobble slightly, as though you’re tired. You very well might be – Jisung knows you must be a long way from your village. He lies down flat on his back, hoping you get the message. When you sit cross-legged next to the ring, he knows you have.

“You dare sit in the presence of your Lord fae?” Though his voice sounds affronted, your nonplussed look tells him you see the lightness in his eyes.

“I believe you are trapped within your ring, Lord fae,” you deadpan. “If the legends are true, it weakens your magic.”

“Perhaps.” The wind blows, and Jisung relishes the feeling of fresh air against his brow. “But I could still curse you and your family from within this ring.”

“If you wanted to curse me, you would have just let the owl have its way,” you point out.

Jisung laughs, truly laughs. It’s been a long time since he’s spoken to someone new, and he is very glad that you are the someone new. “Astute observation, my lady.” With a sigh, he pulls himself up and winks at you. “A lady with a mind as sharp as her eyes are beautiful.”

The same sparkle rises in your shy eyes and Jisung delights in the sight. Truthfully, you are not the most beautiful woman he has seen. Over his millennia in the fae realm and the mortal plane, he has seen many fae and humans who are more conventionally gorgeous than you. But your eyes are alluring, your smile is sweet, and even with your quick tongue, you exude a sort of elegance and tired kindness that Jisung hopes will never fade.

“You’re not translucent anymore,” you note. Jisung knows you’re trying to change the subject and kind of wants to keep teasing you, but he’s in a good mood today so he lets you keep going. “Does that mean you’re fully bound to the ring?”

You really do know your legends. Jisung is impressed. “You are correct, my lady.” His smile only wavers very slightly. “When I accompanied you back last time, I sent a fragment of my soul. It was not my physical being.”

He then waits for the inevitable next question – “Why are you bound to the ring?”

It was the first thing Changbin asked when the faerie ring appeared. It was what all the dryads asked when they sensed the presence of their new neighbor. In fact, the only ones who hadn’t asked Jisung what happened were Hyunjin the water nymph and Chan the guardian, and that was because they were the reason why Jisung had ended up bound to the ring in the first place.

But the question that comes from your mouth is not the one he expects. “How does that happen? How do you separate your soul into different parts?” Your eyes are wide with curiosity, but not for him. For fae in general. Somehow, that comforts Jisung much more than attention on him would.

So he struggles to explain the process, fumbling over his words in a way that no Lord fae should, but you only nod and listen and smile and frown with singular concentration. You listen to his words closely, asking more and more questions until Jisung can’t answer them anymore and is forced to admit his lack of knowledge on the topic.

“So the Lord fae is not all-knowing, I see,” you tease. The sun has just begun to set and you are standing up, brushing bits of grass and leaves from your clothing. The blue tunic may look faded, but against the backdrop of the forest, you look like you could be a gentle nymph. One who helps, not harms.

“Did I ever claim that I was?” Jisung shoots back. He won’t lie – he can’t lie, in fact – his pride is a little bruised. However, his pride is not worth as much to him as it used to be. He can’t help the laugh that escapes from his lips again – he likes you too much. “Will you need an escort home?”

“You would escort me anyway even if I said no.” But despite your resigned tone, you look at him with a smile on your face.

“You are not wrong in that statement.” He grins. “Shall we go, my lady?”

(The next time you see him, you ask for his name. “If it so pleases you,” he grins, repeating your words, “you may call me Han.”)

. . . . .

Several months pass and you are very proud to say you haven’t shown Han your crying face once since the first meeting. But comfort and solitude were what drove you to the fae in the first place, and it is hard to pull up such deep roots.

You arrive at the ring with your tears mostly gone, but eyes still puffy and rimmed with red. You don’t call for him this time – in fact, you’re half-hoping he doesn’t come, so you don’t have to reveal this weak side that disgusts and saddens you.

You wish you were born stronger. Strong enough to fight the villagers’ sharp words and disgusted looks, strong enough to at least run away. But you can barely feed and clothe and shelter yourself as it is, so there is little to no chance of either event happening.

“There’s my lady.” Han’s teasing voice sounds beside you and on reflex, you look around slightly. Quickly, though, you drop your head, staring straight at the grass in front of you.

“What’s this?” You hear the rustle of grass, indicating that he, too has sat down. “My lady won’t respond to me?” The mischief in his voice turns to concern. “What’s wrong, my lady? Why are there tears in your pretty eyes?”

Because my eyes are a blight upon my being.

Because they bring the hatred of the village upon me.

Because no matter what you say, I can’t think of them as truly beautiful.

Because you may be lying to me.

“Han.” Your voice is small but steady and you take comfort in that. Still, you do not look at him. “Do you truly believe my eyes are beautiful? Or are you only playing another fae trick upon a poor mortal like me?”

Silence.

“My lady.” His voice is serious, yet you can sense the small smile in his tone. “With all your knowledge of the legends of my kind, will you tell me that you don’t know that we cannot lie?”

Embarrassment crawls up your skin. You do know the legend, but truth is multifaceted. There are many loopholes that the fae dearly love to exploit. “I do know, Lord fae,” you say, “but when you say my eyes are beautiful, it does not mean that you find them beautiful. It only means that at least one being between our planes finds them beautiful. It does not mean that person is you.” You snort. “And it certainly is not a member of my village.”

A sigh escapes from the lips of the fae next to you. “You never cease to amaze me,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. “Your words are true. Yet I will promise you that I have only thought of myself when I tell you that your green eyes are some of the most beautiful I have ever seen.”

The tears start welling up again and you can’t bring yourself to look at the fae. Your mind knows his words must be true, for fae cannot break promises and they cannot tell lies, but your heart cannot believe it.

“Do you know what your eyes remind me of?” he asks.

You still don’t look up.

His tone turns a little pleading. “My lady, please look at me.”

You finally do, red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks and all.

“They remind me of freedom.” A small, different smile plays upon his lips. It isn’t sad, exactly – more nostalgic. Wistful.

“Freedom,” you echo.

“I was not always bound to this faerie ring, you know?” His tone is a little teasing, a little self-deprecating, a little angry, but also a little repentant. “When I was free, I used to travel the earth. It was green, green as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful.” He smiles at you. “Your eyes are the same green as my Mother Earth.”

You’ve never seen him this way – pensive, wistful, a far cry from the teasing sarcasm and snark you are used to. Your fingers itch to touch him, to comfort him, but sense still overrules your heart. To place a limb inside the ring could possibly be suicide. You will not risk that.

(Yet.)

The rest of your time together passes in silence. He doesn’t ask for an explanation of your state and you don’t offer him one, only taking comfort in the whispering quiet of the forest around you and Han’s warm presence beside you. As the sun begins to set, he asks if you would like an escort home. The smile on your face is more genuine as you stand up and nod.

The walk is also silent, though not uncomfortable or strange. But as you reach the edge of the forest, as he’s just about to disappear, you whisper, “Thank you.”

Han flashes you his heart-shaped grin – a little gentler, a little less teasing than usual. “Of course, my lady.”

. . . . .

One month. A full month passes before Jisung senses your presence near the faerie ring again. He reappears with a half-upset, half-overjoyed smile on his face, ready to teasingly berate you for not coming sooner and interrogate you on the reasons why. But the teasing words die upon his lips when he sees your state.

Because for all the sadness and strange words of your last meeting, he never expected that this was the reason behind your silence.

He’s never seen these bruises and cuts upon your skin before. A couple of faded scrapes are normal for anyone, and a few small bruises from when you fell, trying to get away from the owl. But this time, blotches of purple and green litter your arms while a small but fresh, healing cut slices your shoulder. A black bruise mars your right eye.

Jisung’s fingers itch to take your hand, to pull you close, to examine each and every cut and bruise upon your skin and exact revenge from those who caused them. For once, he wants to leave the ring for a reason other than to satisfy his selfish desire for freedom.

But he cannot. The invisible walls of the perfectly-shaped ring prevent him from touching you the way he wants.

“Who did this to you?” he murmurs instead, trying to hold back growing anger. “And why?”

You smile a little as you sit, though it’s cynical and sad and nothing like the genuine happiness you have shown him before. “Someone heard me speaking to you the last time you walked me back.”

“And?” Jisung pulls bits of grass from the ground out of frustration. “What of it?”

“They think I’m a witch.” Your clear, green eyes stare into Jisung’s, and suddenly, everything makes sense.

Why you wanted solitude.

Why you cried last time.

Why you asked him those strange questions about what he thought about your eyes.

He sits in silence as you explain. They think the devil took your soul when you were young, you tell him, and he cursed you with those horrible green eyes. The eyes are too different, too strange for the villagers to accept in their rural beliefs. They think of you as an abomination. The only reason they have not killed you yet is because they are afraid that watering the earth with devil blood will only make the Mother angry.

“Your parents?” he asks when you fall silent.

You laugh, but the sound holds no mirth. “They wish I were dead.”

Jisung stays quiet as he tries to wrap his mind around that. The closest thing to a mother he’s ever had is the Faerie Queen, and though she deals harsh punishments at times (he is exhibit number one), she has never wished death upon her subjects. She is mischievous, capricious, and a lying trickster, but to her subjects she is just and fair. She would give up her life for them.

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “The other villagers pity them,” you continue, “so they get attention and pity and sorrow. I get nothing.” You pause. “Except you.”

He doesn’t know why that hits him so hard. You only spoke two short words. But those words give him such an indescribable warmth in his chest that he can barely control his intense desire to hold your face between his hands with the gentlest touch of the wind.

“So I couldn’t visit for a month,” you continue, oblivious to Jisung’s predicament. “They suspected I was going out to do witchy things, so I had to stay in the village so suspicions would fade away. I go out on my own a lot, anyway. They usually leave me alone unless something bad happens.”

“Why?” Jisung asks, recovering himself.

The cynical smirk on your face makes Jisung feel like his heart is breaking in half. “Because they blame it on me.”

To be fairly honest, Jisung doesn’t exactly know what to say to that. Sure, he’s been blamed for some small things he didn’t commit, but the faerie queen has her Sight and he’s always been acquitted. All his punishments have been justified, something he’s reflected on over the thousands of years he’s remained bound to this ring.

He can’t understand the injustice of your situation. Humans think fae are the tricksters and the manipulators, but how much better are they, with their aversion to strangeness and any sort of difference?

“Humans,” he huffs quietly, angrily pulling out another blade of grass. He does it with such force that he can hear the grass scream in pain. His eyes widen as he sees all the little piles of grass he’s pulled up around him and immediately he soothes a hand over them, attaching them back to their severed roots.

“I’m a human,” you point out with little venom. In fact, you’re staring at his hands with a hint of wonder and awe upon your face, nothing even close to annoyance or outrage. “But you’re not wrong.”

Jisung doesn’t know what to say in response.

“I don’t know, though.” You look up at him again and your eyes are impossibly clear. Minutes ago they were cloudy and upset and confused, but now they hold only clarity of thought. “What if I didn’t have green eyes?”

There’s another unspoken question that Jisung can hear as clear as day.

Would I have grown up exactly like them?

Jisung can’t deny that you probably would have. That had it not been for all of the misfortune caused by your strange green eyes, you would have been a happy, but clueless and far less accepting villager than you are today.

In all likelihood, you probably never would have met him.

“Your eyes have more benefits than simply making you beautiful,” is all he replies. He thinks for a moment. “I haven’t experienced all your sorrow so perhaps you will think the opposite, but I think your green eyes have given you more fortune than misfortune in creating your character.”

You don’t smile. You only nod. But the deep gray clouds that envelop your head clear, bit by bit, until the last tear has dried on your face and your lips rest in a neutral line, instead of turned down at the tips.

If Jisung weren’t bound to the ring, he would hold your scarred hand tight, as tight as he could without hurting you, to give you some sort of comfort to anchor you to your Mother Earth. But since he can’t, he contents himself with the fact that he can see the shining glimmer he yearns to see returning to your beautiful eyes.

. . . . .

Some villages call it May Day. Others call it Earrach. A traveler once told you, far away in Gaul, they call it le Jour de Printemps.

Your village just calls it the spring festival. Simple, formal, traditional, just like your village’s relationship with your Mother Nature. She gives you the fertile earth with which to grow the crops you celebrate in fall, during harvest season.

Well, not you. Them. You haven’t gone to a spring or harvest festival in years.

The air around your little shack is even more silent than usual, with all the villagers gone to the square to celebrate the new planting season. Girls in their white and pink dresses, boys in their buttoned shirts and nicest pants. Every family, no matter how poor, owns a set of clothing to wear for the spring and harvest festivals. If they are too poor to make one themselves, a neighbor will pass over a hand-me-down, or even sew a new one.

You weren’t an exception, at first. If you looked carefully, you could probably find an old white rag or two that used to be a spring festival dress. But as you grew older, fewer villagers wanted to take notice of you, so you have no traditional spring gown to wear for today.

There is one set of nice clothes you sewed for yourself a few years back, however. It isn’t pure white for spring, nor pastel pink for fall. It’s pale blue. But the village weaver charged a price sky-high for the nice cloth he makes specially for the festivals (even though he sold it to the next mother for half the price he gave you), so you ended up with this instead.

Not that you can really complain. The fabric is soft and clean, if a bit dusty – a result of not having worn it in over a year – but you’ve taken care of it. For what reason, you never really knew.

Maybe Mother Nature was quietly preparing you for today. Nudging you to make a dress and preserve it so that you could look presentable on the first spring festival day in years that you are no longer alone.

Still, though, you’re not quite sure why you slip on the flowy blue dress that feels so comfortable against your skin. You don’t understand why you don’t put on another one of your rougher tunics, slip on the trousers that have grown a little loose against your thinning waist. You’re not sure why you find yourself running the wooden comb through your hair not just until it’s untangled but until it’s smooth, and you’re not sure why you braid some of it back from your face in a style you have seen some of the merchant girls wear.

Black slippers, still worn but not as tattered as your everyday boots, go on your feet to finish the look. The dress doesn’t fit very well – you’ve only gotten skinnier since you made it – and the shoes are a little too tight, but no matter. You have no mirror so you couldn’t try to primp even if you wanted to, so you take a deep breath and head into the woods, ignoring the faint music and cries of laughter in the distance. And when you walk into the clearing where the faerie ring lies, you don’t have to wait a second before he appears.

He calls you “my lady,” again, with that same flirty grin he wore the first day you met. You don’t know why those two words mean so much to you. At first, they meant nothing, really – they only served to make you smile a little bit because, well, that was Han. Han the fae. That was what he was – flirty, grinning, a distraction. A glowing light in the middle of a village of gray.

For the last few times you visited, he didn’t call you by your nickname. Maybe it was just the look on your face because you know you didn’t feel the best on those last few trips. In fact, most of them were spent in comfortable silence or murmured conversations. You haven’t heard your nickname in a while.

Now, those words feel like they mean so much more than they used to. His tone is still flirty, his lips still smiling his heart-shaped smile, but he looks warmer. Feels warmer.

And though you should never feel this way around a fae and their ring, you feel safe.

“Why the fancy dress, my lady?” Han asks, jolting you out of your thoughts. His grin has only grown wider – is it trembling? No, it can’t be, there’s no reason for him to do so – and he’s looking at you with eyes that have never sparkled this brightly before.

You open your mouth to respond before realizing you don’t have an answer. Why did you dress up, really? What was the point?

You opt for a simple response that doesn’t really answer the question. “It’s the spring festival.” You sit down on the grass, careful not to wrinkle your dress. “I wanted to dress up a little for once.”

Even as you say it, though, you know that’s not the full reason.

“You don’t usually dress up, then?” he asks, sitting down as well.

How do you answer that question without giving the truth away through your expression?

The answer: you don’t. In fact, you haven’t even spoken a word before Jisung’s grin turns into one of mischief. “So you dressed up for me!” he sings.

“What – no –” you splutter, desperately trying to keep up a façade of calm as your cheeks heat up. You deny it, even as his eyes crinkle into slits of joy and mischief, as he laughs and teases your attempts at hiding your embarrassment. But in the end, you have to give up. He will drag this on forever if you don’t.

And the more you think about it, he was part of the reason you wanted to look nice. For once in your life, you wanted to look beautiful for someone whom you cared about. For someone who might care about you.

For someone whom you want to care for you.

“In all seriousness, my lady,” Han says when the two of you have calmed, “you look enchanting. Even more so than usual.”

The gentle, heart-shaped smile he imparts to you makes your heart jump, and you feel warmer inside than you have in years.

. . . . .

A lull in the conversation occurs just after noon, when the village is so loud and joyful that you and Jisung can hear music and laughter from all the way up on your forested hill. Jisung takes the silence as an opportunity to gauge your true feelings today.

He knows you must feel at least some happiness. Your laugh and smile and snark and sarcasm have all been quite natural. However, as your eyes wander over to where the music is coming from, he notices a soft, sad, wistfulness that overtakes your expression, leaving a shadow of your previous joy in its wake.

Jisung knows enough about human customs that on festivals like this, they dance. Girls dress up in flowy frocks while boys put on their starched shirts and they whirl about, smiles and laughter abounding.

Your dress is a dance frock. Your slippers are dancing shoes. With a pang, he realizes you shouldn’t be here. You should be with friends, kicking up grass as a handsome boy or two or three spin you around in celebration.

“You know, if you want to dance, you could dance with me,” he says softly. Truly, today, he means no deceit. He hasn’t in a long while, in centuries, really, but today he wants you to know it and be sure of it. He wants you to know that he means no harm to you.

That he will never mean any harm to you.

Your eyes snap to him, gaze guarded and unreadable. He swallows but continues. “Come into the ring,” he proposes. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“You know as well as I do that a fae does not make a promise without expecting something in return.”

Jisung can tell you don’t mean to hurt him with this statement. After all, his brethren are not known to be the kindest of Mother Earth’s creatures. He himself used to be less than friendly. So he doesn’t take offense at your words and only notes the longing gaze you give the ring that speaks far more than your cool words.

Your words are true. A promise for a promise – that has always been the way of the fae. But Jisung doesn’t know what he could ask from you in return.

But he does. It’s always been at the back of his mind, he thinks, but he hasn’t allowed himself to dwell on that until now. There is something he wants – one thing, something beyond even his own freedom. Because he feels like if he has this thing you could give him, he would feel free even in the confines of his ring.

Promise me your love.

But he doesn’t say it. Many of his fellow fae delight in ruining love, in causing mischief and strife between couples, in raining heartbreak upon those foolish enough to fall. But his punishment has taught him the consequences of meddling with affairs of the heart. Centuries of being bound to the faerie ring have given him enough time to think and ponder and discuss such subjects with Chan, the wise forest guardian, Changbin, the quiet moon child, and even Hyunjin, the water nymph who used to loathe him.

Jisung will not interfere with love. If his experience with Hyunjin has taught him anything, it is that true love is just that – true. It cannot be coerced or threatened in or out of existence.

He is sure he feels true love for you. But a heart must be given, not taken, so he does not ask for yours.

“Then promise me your happiness,” he finally bargains. “Promise me that for the rest of today, you will laugh, that you will smile, and that it will all be real.”

“You request something easier said than done,” is your quiet reply. “Why not ask for something tangible? Something stronger, more powerful?”

“Are you saying there is something more powerful to me than a simple smile upon your face, my lady?” His lips curl slightly. “If you are asking me to be more selfish, believe me, this is my most selfish desire – to always see happiness upon your face. For your happiness brings me mine.”

Sunlight dazzles on your blue-clad figure, sparkling on your shining hair and face. As Jisung waits for your response, he can’t help but think that the broad daylight only heightens your earthly beauty.

You are no willowy, graceful moon child, it’s true. But you are a true child of the earth. Rooted, solid, steady, nurturing, loving.

And Jisung could think of nothing more perfect.

It’s a very slow smile that spreads across your lips, but as it does, Jisung thinks that perhaps it is the most beautiful smile of all.

“Then, Lord fae,” you begin quietly, “make your promise, and I will make mine.”

“I promise that I will allow no harm to come to you here from the moment you enter this ring,” he whispers, his breath nearly catching in his throat.

“And I promise to smile with only true happiness for the rest of this spring day.” Your green eyes shine.

Jisung holds out a hand, feeling his fingertips touch the invisible barrier that keeps him trapped within the faerie ring. Then he feels a different sensation, one he hasn’t felt in centuries – warm skin against his own.

The same slow smile remains upon your lips as you look up at him, fingers loosely grasping his own. And with the simple grace of a fluttering leaf, you step into the ring.

. . . . .

The year’s summer is not a kind one. Warm, humid heat rests heavy upon the village, and bugs fly everywhere. You live rather out of the way, so when you’re at home, you don’t get the full force of the bugs and illness, but when you go to the marketplace, you see the effects on the rest of the village.

Red bites littering tanned skin. Clammy sweat dripping into dazed eyes. The absence of a single cool breeze makes the heat almost unbearable as you quietly make your rounds.

Many shopkeepers are absent that day.

You expect what’s coming next. They will bar you from the marketplace in the hopes that keeping away the witch will keep away the sweltering symptoms of a sweaty summer and the dreaded summer sickness.

So the day comes when you are forced to turn away from the market – not that the handful of coins in your pocket would have bought much anyway – and head back home. Only this time, you don’t have to go as hungry as previous years. In the shady forest, you tell Jisung of your predicament, and though he looks a bit like he wants to make the villagers suffer, he only shows you a few places where you can gather wild, edible plants, so long as you thank the Mother Earth for them and leave enough to grow.

“They really think you are a witch?” Jisung asks quietly one hot afternoon, when even the shade of the forest isn’t enough to keep away the overwhelming heat of the day. You’re back at the faerie ring, a basket of fruit next to your figure lying prone on the ground. Sweat drips down your face and onto the grass, but when you look over, Jisung doesn’t even look warm. He looks the same as usual.

Once upon a time you might have been unnerved by how otherworldly he is. Upon first glance, he is perfect, almost unimaginably so. You remember the first day you saw him in the forest. If you’d been in your right mind, you might have bowed to him as a god.

Yet after so many conversations and walks and lazy afternoons, to you, he is human. He stutters. His mouth can’t keep up with his mind sometimes. He has flaws. And he looks like a human boy, a boy with whom you could easily fall in love. Deep brown eyes that always hold a twinkle of mischief. Heart-shaped lips that look so kissable. Round cheeks that you could squish all day.

There is no use in fighting it, really. You are in love with your Lord fae, and you can do nothing about it. Every day you see him feels like another step into his dizzying embrace, another step into his full heart.

You think you’ve been falling for him this whole time, really. Perhaps on that first day, when he showed up and saved you from the screech owl and labelled your eyes as “beautiful,” it was not yet love. Maybe a simple crush. But on the afternoon you came to the ring with puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks and he only teased and comforted you, you think your crush started turning into love.

He makes you feel safe. If he didn’t, why else would you keep coming to the ring? Why else would you have stepped into the ring, and danced with him with no music until sunset?

But he’s still a fae. Despite your love for him and everything he’s done for you, everything he’s promised you, you can’t help but still second-guess his true intentions. Fae are not known for their kindness – only their ability to exploit lies and their inability to break promises.

He’s never made a promise to you that he hasn’t kept, one half of your brain reminds you.

He’s only made a few promises to you, though, the other side reasons.

You nod to Han’s question, too hot and tired to do anything more.

“Do you want to know what a real witch is like?”

When you look up, his eyes are smiling with his lips, telling you that the grin is genuine. The knowledge of this only makes your lips curl until you’re smiling too, and the heat of the day falls away as you sit up to listen carefully.

Han tells you the lore behind witches, a race that rarely comes into the open. They do not fly on brooms or stir bubbling iron cauldrons filled with poisoned liquids, he says, but they do make potions and they do perform spells (in cauldrons of other metals, for iron burns magic). Just like humans, there are good witches and evil witches. The good ones often remain in hiding, posing as doctors and apothecarists, while the evil ones wreak their havoc. That, he tells you, is why humans have such twisted feelings about them.

“You are not a witch, my lady,” he concludes, looking over at you. The setting sun has tinted the sky pink and the light makes a pretty flush against Han’s skin. Your heart speeds up when you see the softness in his face. “Witches are born of at least one witch parent, and your parents are villagers. I sense no magic from you. So if they call you a witch again, know that they are the ignorant ones, not you.”

“You always know what to say to me, Han,” you murmur, ignoring the thumping in your chest. “Thank you.” The words rise to your lips before you can stop them. “I always feel safe with you.”

His hand lifts slightly as though to touch your face, but you are not inside the ring today – you haven’t entered since the day you danced with him. So his fingers lower, and even though you think it best for the two of you, you still ache for the feeling of his warm skin on yours. “Do you remember the promise I made you last spring festival?” he asks.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt me when I entered your ring,” you reply, curious as to why he’s bringing that up now.

“Perhaps, but you do not remember my wording.” He smiles. “I promised you that I would allow no harm to come to you here from the moment you stepped into the ring.”

It takes your mind a few seconds to work through that. Then everything clicks. “You –”

“You will always be safe in the ring,” Han interrupts, his eyes shining with softness. “Always.”

You feel a tear bubble in your eye but you blink it away, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Thank you,” you whisper.

He smiles again. “Of course, my lady.”

. . . . .

As the days pass, as the heat gets worse, you finally tell him of the summer sickness. The sweats, the chills, the fevers that overtake the villagers in this hot, humid weather.

You don’t have the fever. Many times you have reassured Jisung that the sickness never touches you – you live too far away from the village to catch it from someone else. Anyway, they always kick you out of the marketplace at the beginning of summer, so you don’t have any chance to get it. Bugs don’t really touch your little hill either.

But the sickness still takes a toll on you. Perhaps you don’t grow ill, but Jisung can see the sick fear growing in your eyes, in your shortened visits to the forest. A new splotchy bruise appears on your leg and you tell him you tripped over a rock.

That’s a lie.

After he doesn’t see you for fourteen days straight, he sits you down when you finally return, voice trembling, and demands an explanation. He cares about you so much, he realizes, his heart can barely stand it. When you didn’t come day after day after day –

“My lady, I thought you were gone forever,” he chokes out, trying to keep the wobble out of his voice.

Your eyes immediately fill with guilt and sorrow and you bite your lip harshly, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, words wavering.

“Just…” Jisung swallows. “Just tell me why. Did I do something? Or was it the village again?”

So you tell him. The summer sickness is worse this year, worse than any other year you’ve been alive. Four children have already died, as have two adults and one of the village elders. And the villagers need someone to blame it on.

Jisung wants to personally set fire to the entire village when he hears that. He can’t imagine how anyone could have the heart to look you in your strange, sharp, green eyes and say that you are the cause for an entire village’s troubles. That your lovely green eyes are the mark of a devil.

How narrow-minded could a person be to not see the beauty that lies in your character?

But he used to be the same way, he realizes with a jolt. Humans, to him, used to be mere playthings with no emotions, no lives, no meaning. They existed for his entertainment and that was all. Perhaps he did not see them as the cause for every single one of his troubles, but isn’t the thought the same? He didn’t see humans as real, living beings, just as the villagers don’t see you as one either.

He is glad he has changed. He hates the Jisung he used to be, but at least he has grown from that terrible prankster fae. He truly is glad he has changed.

He is glad he met you after he changed.

“So I couldn’t come over for a while,” you say, breaking into his thoughts. “I… I didn’t want them to have more reasons for thinking I’m a witch. It’s bad enough that I’ve never come down with the sickness. If I had, maybe they wouldn’t think I was the reason.”

Jisung wants to take your hand. He misses the feeling of your fingers intertwining with his. It made him feel safe. Cared for. Loved.

He settles for letting his fingertips touch the edge of the ring, pressing against the invisible barrier that keeps him from leaving. And after a few seconds, you place your hand down to touch your fingertips against his.

It is enough for now.

“Remember, my lady,” he whispers, refusing to look away from your eyes that always drag him in. “You’ll always be safe in the ring. No matter what.”

Even though you duck your head to nod and Jisung can’t see your green eyes, he knows that there are tears in them. He can see it in your slightly-trembling shoulders, in your fingers that shake against the steady earth.

And his heart aches for your troubles, hoping they will end soon.

. . . . .

The worst is always yet to come and you realize this as you’re sprinting, barefoot, over the forest floor. Your time in the village was never going to last. Sometime or another, a fuse was going to light the bomb created by your existence.

The fuse comes in the form of the fifth child’s death from summer sickness.

They came to your shack with old pitchforks and kitchen knives and rusted swords. You heard the shouts, saw the torches, and there were only two words echoing through your mind.

Run away.

You might’ve gotten away without them seeing if you hadn’t made so much noise wrestling through the bushes. On a normal day, the noise doesn’t matter because no one comes around here and you can trample over whatever you want. But it is night, the villagers are screaming bloody murder, and you don’t have time to worry about stealth.

When they reach the edge of the forest, their torches simply burn the bushes to the ground. Your head start is dwindling fast and you waste more of it as you stand at the edge of the forest, all of the warnings you’ve been given about the forest racing through your head. It may be safer during the day, you think, but what horrors lie in the dark of night? 

Then Han’s words, soft and clear and kind, push them all away.

“You will always be safe in the ring.”

His smile.

“Always.”

You steel yourself and dart into the trees.

Pure instinct fuels your body. You can’t see anything except for the faint glow of fire behind you and the farther away that is, the better. Trees materialize out of nowhere and their branches catch in your flying hair. Rough stones slice your feet. A small animal races past your feet and you have to stifle a scream. More than once a sinister presence lingers in the shadows as you fly past, but you cannot take the time to give into your terror.

Torchlight burns. Voices shout. The forest fills with fear – the villagers’ fear of you, your fear of them, nature’s fear of you all. You stumble over hidden rocks and bumps and bushes and all the time you’re wondering where is the ring? Why am I not there yet? Is this the right way?

But then you see the sparkle of the pond nearby, a pond you have seen so many times on walks with your fae (in his transparent form, of course). He’s told you many stories of the water nymph there. But today you don’t care about Hwang Hyunjin. His pond only serves as a marker. As something to show you your path.

The race uphill is nearly torture. Without your shoes – even the tattered ones – the hill feels so much rougher and stonier than it normally does. Even the bed of grass can’t fully disguise the sharp bumps that dig into your feet.

He isn’t in the ring. You didn’t expect him to be, not now, but for a moment, your mind flails wildly.

What if your fae doesn’t come?

A glance behind tells you the villagers are still chasing. A few are climbing up the hill. You have no choice.

“HAN!”

You jump into the ring.

For a moment, the ring is empty save for only you. The first villagers trample nearer but their steps grow slower and their howls of rage and fear turn to frightened shouts and whispers as they realize where they are. You lie in a heap on the ground, all heaving gasps and shaking limbs and trembling lips.

Then warm arms embrace you, pulling you close to a chest with a steady heartbeat that calms your erratic mind and breath. Han’s thumbs stroke smoothly, sweetly, on your skin, and the pent-up tears begin to escape your cursed eyes.

“You are safe,” he whispers in your ear. “In my ring, you will always be safe.”

Some foolish shout rings through the night and a pitchfork sails through the air. You instinctively start to cry out no, Han, watch out! –

With a single flick of a finger, the pitchfork falls to the ground outside the faerie ring, harmless. Silence again takes over the clearing.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hisses.

His words are ice cold. You have never heard this tone before.

“L-Lord fae, she has infected our village with the summer sickness,” a trembling voice says. “Surely you see –”

“Your children are infected with the festering hatred you have for all things strange,” he spits. “Her eyes have no weight on her character. She is no witch. She bears no blame for your village’s summer sickness.”

Silence, except for your ragged breaths.

“Do not touch her.” His hand strokes your hair gently, coaxing out the last silent tears, a contrast to the blades of his tone. “A lord will always protect his lady, no?”

. . . . .

You make no effort to leave the ring that night but even if you did, Jisung wouldn’t have let you go. Not after the fear he saw in the villagers’ eyes.

Fear is often more dangerous than anger, after all.

He does not sleep the entire night, only holds you close, even when your shaking sobs stop and you slump, asleep, against his chest, tears still rolling down your face. His heart breaks a little more every time he looks down at you.

If this is how I feel, Jisung wonders, how did Hyunjin survive? When his love was snatched away from him, never to walk the earth again?

A new wave of shame and respect for the water nymph washes over him every time such a thought comes to mind. For if Jisung feels so strongly about you being merely hurt, he cannot imagine what pain Hyunjin endured when he lost his lover.

No wonder Hyunjin loathed him so much for so long.

You wake with the dawn. Had it not been for the slight fluttering of your eyelashes, he wouldn’t have realized at all. For a brief, terrified moment, Jisung wonders if you will break away from him.

But you don’t. You don’t move closer, but you don’t move away. You don’t protest his hands stroking your hair rhythmically, only close your eyes and sigh a little.

“Thank you for yesterday,” you finally murmur. “I’m sorry I cause you so much trouble.”

Your green eyes open and they look tired. So, so tired.

Jisung wants to bring the life back to them.

“It was no trouble,” he replies. “It is never trouble to care for those you love.”

When your eyes startle, Jisung realizes what he’s said. He’s just confessed his love for you. Though he’s known it for weeks, the words leaving his lips still make him feel a strange vulnerability in your presence. But he doesn’t regret it.

“Those you love,” you echo quietly. Though there is a tiny smile on your face, your voice is sad. “How could a fae as powerful as you love a –”

“Stop.” Jisung can’t listen anymore. “Stop it.”

“But –”

“If there is anyone unworthy of your love,” Jisung interrupts, “it is me. Not the other way around.”

You remain quiet this time.

Jisung sighs. “I think it’s time I told you how I was bound to this ring.”

He tells his tale with hot shame and sorrow creeping up his cheeks and choking his throat. He tries his hardest to keep his voice steady but fails as he speaks of Hyunjin’s first love with the cloud nymph, the wisp of a girl who made him smile in ways Jisung had never seen before. Now that he knows the love that Hyunjin felt, it is so much more difficult to speak of it. To know that he ruined it.

He tells of the pesky sprites who goaded him into meddling with that love. With a heavy heart and hanging head, he reveals the prideful, selfish, despicable faerie he once was, one who could not back away from a dare and treated all of those around him as toys.

“We all knew Hyunjin and his nymph were fated to fall in love,” Jisung says. “It was just something we could see, plain as day. So the sprites dared me to play with fate. To end their love.”

Jisung doesn’t want to look at you. He can’t stomach the fact that you might be looking at him with disgust and shame, all of your previous lightheartedness with him gone. If you did, he wouldn’t be surprised – he deserves it.

But your grip on him doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens. Jisung finds the strength to go on.

He never meant it to go so far, he explains, as though that makes it better. He only wanted to break their love apart. He found a jealous, spurned suitor of the nymph and talked him into goading her to leave Hyunjin.

Instead, the suitor killed her. And the waters that raged through the forest for weeks after her death would have killed all the life there had Chan, the guardian, not called on Mother Earth to placate the water nymph’s anger and sent for the faerie queen to punish Jisung.

“That’s why I am bound to this ring,” Jisung says. “I am bound here until two things happen.”

“What are they?” you ask.

A small, genuine smile spreads across Jisung’s lips. “I first had to help Hyunjin find love again.”

A willow seed from Jisung’s esteemed collection. One of the seeds of the first willow that ever grew from Mother Earth’s mantle. It did not matter that the nymph who grew from the weeping willow that now drapes across Hyunjin’s pond was mute, that she could not speak. Her strength won Hyunjin’s heart. And after seven centuries, Hyunjin has forgiven Jisung.

“The second condition?” you prompt when Jisung falls silent.

Ah. He doesn’t want to tell you this one. He doesn’t want you to think that all of his love for you has been faked, has been solely for the purpose of attaining his freedom. But he will not lie to you.

“I had to find someone who, in the words of my faerie queen, would be foolish enough to love me,” he says.

With this admission, Jisung can practically hear the thoughts rolling around in your mind, bouncing off the walls of your skull and manifesting in doubt, uncertainty, and fear. “I know what you must be thinking,” he says hurriedly. “Did I only keep you around to break my curse? Truth be told, I didn’t think of that until several months ago, the day of the spring festival.” He laughs a little.

“At the start, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would fall for a human. But you were interesting. Clever. Intelligent. Your beautiful eyes may have caught my attention, but it was your soul and your mind that caught my heart. I wanted to keep talking to you.” He smiles. “On the day of the spring festival, I realized I loved you, my lady.”

Your fingers tighten around his.

“But it was I who loved you, and truly, I couldn’t think of a reason why you would love me.” His smile turns sad. “I found myself thinking of the curse and wondering, what would I do if you loved me back?” He swallows. “Do you remember our promise that day?”

By now, you’re looking into his eyes. Your gaze is a little unnerving, but Jisung forces himself to stare at you. “Yes,” you answer.

“I almost asked you to promise me your love,” he says, somber. “But by then, I knew that love must be a gift. I could not take it from you. So I asked for the next best thing – my lady’s happiness for just that day.”

Silence.

“After you left that night, I thought about my feelings. It took quite some time to sort through them all.” He smiles tentatively and his heart lightens when you smile back. “I realized that I didn’t care about my freedom. I wanted you to love me just because I loved you, even though I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t care about breaking the curse. I only wanted you to love me back.”

He’s done. He’s told you everything. His heart pounds as he waits for your response.

Will you leave him?

“Do you still want that?” your quiet voice says. “Do you still want me to love you?”

His heart is threatening to burst. He nods jerkily. “A thousand times, yes,” he whispers.

“I think I’ve loved you since the day I came to you, crying, and you asked no questions, only comforted me.” Your voice is low, quiet, small, but soothing. “I realized it the day of the festival, the same day as you. But I could never quite trust you, it felt like. You are a fae. I am a human. In my mind, I thought this could never happen.”

Jisung wants to protest but holds his tongue. This is your time to speak. He will not interrupt.

“But I trust you now.” Your shining, teary eyes look up at him with an emotion he’s never seen directed at him. He’s seen it on Hyunjin, looking at his willow nymph. He’s seen it on Changbin, gazing at his moon girl.

It hits him that you love him too.

“You’ve told me much, and there would be many who say you still do not deserve love, Han.” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. “But I think you have repented. I think you have learned. The fae I know is a far cry from the prideful one of centuries past. He has given me safety, comfort, hope, love.” A smile graces your lips. “I think I love him.” You shake your head. “No, I know I love him.”

You sit up with a wobbly smile on your lips and Jisung stares straight into your bright, lovely, green eyes, glowing with the rosy light of dawn. “May I?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

In return, you nod, and his lips fall onto yours.

Jisung has had many kisses over his millennia-long life, to the point where he once thought he couldn’t feel anything new anymore. But your lips are nothing like the ones he’s kissed before.

Chapped, dry, they shouldn’t give Jisung the bliss he feels. He’s kissed lips far smoother than yours. But it is not the lips he kisses, Jisung realizes, but the person to whom those lips belong.

A little sigh leaves your parted mouth and Jisung pulls you closer, holding you with the gentility of the morning breeze on his skin, pressing his lips to yours. An hour could have passed or even a day, and he would never know. He only knows the bliss he feels that moment.

Too soon, you both must break away for air. And even though tears still stain your cheeks and Jisung’s hair has been mussed by your hands, he has never felt so content in his life.

“Give me your name,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give me your name, my lady, and I promise I will do all there is in my power to keep you safe from harm. Give me your name, and I promise I will travel to the ends of the realms to keep you happy.”

Your thumbs stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering in bliss. “Give me yours and I’ll give you mine.” A hint of that long-lost mischief dances in your eyes even as tears threaten again to fall down your face and Jisung wants to cry. He’s waited to see that expression on your face for too long. “I want to know you, Han. All of you.”

Hyunjin once told him that when he loved someone, he would feel no fear giving them his name. When he loved someone, he would trust that they would use his name only out of care. They would not toy with it. It would sound different in their mouth. It would sound safe.

At the time, he just cackled and made some dumb joke about how he definitely wasn’t Hyunjin’s love, then. The two had proceeded to drown the forest with their bickering until Chan came over to separate them.

But now, as he hears you repeat his name once, quietly, whispering it on your tongue, he knows what Hyunjin meant. His name is safe between your lips and yours is safe between his.

Jisung’s heart bursts.

He stands, pulling you up on shaky legs. For the first time in over a millennium, he steps out of the faerie ring, ready to leave the perfect circle of flowers and grass forever.

“Where does my lady wish to go?” he asks. His grin couldn’t get any wider.

Your smile is more enchanting today than it ever was, and your green eyes sparkle in the rising light of the sun.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

#inkidz #stray kids #skz #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #han jisung scenarios #3racha #han #fluff #angst #triggers #violence #nature spirit!au #stray kids han scenarios #whispers of nature #bloom #scriptura-delirus

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Maple syrup dreams

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 21 | Part 22 Maple syrup dreams | Part 23 >

Disclaimer: Just fluff

Author’s note: Do you know what I just can’t get enough of? Whenever I’m writing my fanfics I keep Tumblr open in the background and there’s nothing more fun than seeing you, the reader, pop up in my notifications every few minutes or so, liking yet another chapter of a long fic. At some point I even know when you’re having a tea break, or taking a moment to make yourself some food. It makes me, as a writer, feel all gooey with happiness (and I quietly enjoy the fun along with you whenever you’re reading my works, my mind bringing me back to when I was writing that particular chapter you just liked). Ugh! I’m such a sap today! I love you darling readers! ❤️

Word count: 2.042

(Link to my Masterlist)

Dear readers,

I am writing this blog from a far, far away place. My fingers a bit numb from the everlasting cold, the taste on my tongue remembering I had far too much Maple Syrup Taffy and my everyday schedule suddenly consisting off shoving snow and rubbing down snowy dog paws.

Me and chocolate cake are in Canada, where we’ll be for the next 2 months as he’s working on a movie here. A movie? Chocolate cake? Hold on, you may think. Tell me more about this mysterious chocolate cake that you seem to be getting serious with! Well dear readers, though many of you know by now whom my lovely chocolate cake is, I’d still like to keep our privacy a little while longer. So let us just say; talk, dark, handsome and a very practical human heater when sleeping together. Especially when you are staying in this freakishly cold country and the actual heater is broken.

Today I’ll be visiting the movie set for the first time, and thereby a part of a new life starts that may have seemed totally ridiculous had you told me I’d be here a few months ago. But alas(ka), here we go!

Ali

‘Morning love.��� Henry chuckled, watching me shuffle through the tiny hallway of the trailer, my body clad in probably every sweater and wool sock I could find. ‘Hmmpff..’ I grumbled, plopping down beside him on the small bench in the kitchen nook.

It felt a bit like my student days. Living on each others lip, this shared living space no bigger than some 24m2, the heating unit broken and the food..well..not great.

‘Need me to warm you up?’ He smiled, gesturing me to scoot over to his lap. Silently nodding I moved up to him, feeling his arms snake around me and pull me snug against his broad and warm chest. ‘Ungh..how can you only wear one sweater and not be cold?’

Henry laughed. ‘It’s called 4000 kcal a day intake and lots of exercising.’ He kissed my cold cheek, his slight stubble scratching my skin. I sniffled and shook my head. ‘Does not sound like my cup of tea.’ - ‘Doesn’t have to be. I’ll keep you warm.’ He hummed, pushing a warm hand beneath my layers of sweaters. ‘Besides, the maintenance team is going to check on that heater this afternoon, so with a little luck we get home tonight to a nice and warm trailer.’ - ‘Goooood.’ I hummed, then squealed, feeling him tickle my skin ever so slightly. ‘Very good.’ He smiled, sniffing my hair before placing a kiss atop my head.

‘Hmm..In case I haven’t mentioned it, I’m so glad to have you here.’ He whispered, nuzzling my hair some more. I chuckled. ‘Oh you only mentioned it about a hundred times or so.’ I leaned back a little so I could turn my face towards his, our noses touching.

He was SO warm.

‘I wouldn’t miss this for the world.’ I murmured, laying a pillowy kiss on his lips. ‘Besides I got some small tasks to help the team out with today, so I don’t have to wait for you to come home like the good housewife I am.’ I winked, making him snicker. ‘Very good wifey.’ - ‘I mean, I’m no wife..but..you know..housegirlfriend sounds weird.’ I shrugged, turning to steal a sip of coffee from his large mug and thereby missing the loving glint in his eyes.

He watched me for a few more long moments, enjoying his coffee and staring into the abyss of 6 AM nothingness, Kal still snoring quietly on his dog bed. He didn’t want to ruin the moment as it was, but there sure was a whole lot going on in his head.

I was his first girlfriend to join him for such a long movie shoot. And for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel so very alone. Didn’t feel like it was just another fleeting moment of a good life. This was going to last. He would make sure it would.

‘Oh are you going to finish that.’ I pointed at a leftover bite of his breakfast toast. He laughed aloud. ‘Go ahead. And, I’ll make myself a mental note to make double the amount of breakfast tomorrow.’

I blushed slightly as I felt his gaze on me, chewing that bit of toast. ‘Sowwyy.’ I gulped, quickly swallowing the toast. ‘You really don’t have to..-‘ - ‘No please Ali. You travelled half the world just to be here with me. The least I can do is make you breakfast while you wrap yourself in not one, not two..but THREE of my sweaters.’

My blush became even more fierce when I felt his chest rumble with mirth.

‘Mwu..they’re just really nice sweaters.’ I mumbled, pouting at him. ‘Hahah. Oh Ali-bear. I have missed you so.’

Ali-bear? I raised an eyebrow at him as my blush slowly faded. ‘Ali-bear?’ I asked with mild confusion. ‘Yes, since you call me Henry-bear and you ARE part of the bear pack now.’ He winked, nodding at Kal who was blinking open his eyes, the large Akita stretching out his paws with mild exaggeration. We both laughed. ‘A-ha..so I’m a bear now, too?’ I looked at him and he shrugged innocently, making me laugh even harder. ‘Oh Henry..you are un-BEAR-able.’  

—

The days on set were crazy long, crazy cold, but also crazy fun. After a week or so I got into a routine of helping for a few hours on set - moving and cleaning props, cooking meals with the cook, walking Kal -, followed by a few hours of working on my upcoming book and help out the Jersey Gazette with editing articles.

My life in Jersey felt like lightyears away, but I didn’t miss it as much as I had anticipated. All I really needed was Henry, silly as it seemed. Be it because we were crazy in love, or because we really had found great soulmates in one another. Even on 14 hour workdays we’d find the time to be there for each other, making life in general really rather pleasant.

Did I have a good idea for one of my stories? I’d pitch it to Henry. Henry needed to practise some new lines? I’d play his villanous counterpart. Did either one of us feel a little on edge? We’d have a quickie in the trailer.

Yes, life was good.

—

‘Hi mom..hello?..Mom? Can you hear me?’ The line crackled and my mom’s voice distorted in a wild flurry of screeches and blurred speech. ‘Let’s try again.’ I ended the call and waited for her to call me in turn, this time the line thankfully much more stable.

‘Oh! There we go!’ Mom exclaimed, hearing me giggle. ‘Hello Ali dear. Oh baby we miss you soooo!’

‘Hi mom. Miss you too! How’s everything at home?’

‘Quite exciting times over here..we finally adopted a dog! A four year old poodle mix, named Cookie. And she’s a lovely gal. Chewing on some shoelaces as we speak hahaha.’ - ‘Quite lovely indeed haha. So you truly miss me THAT much, hmm? Empty nest?’ - ‘Terribly. So how’s everything over there? Are you okay? Eating enough vegetables?’

Moms will be moms.

‘Yes mom haha. Plenty of vegetables. And I exercise everyday because it is crazy cold and there’s practically no other way to get warm..-‘ - ‘The things you do for love, hmm? I remember you experiencing your first snow. How you immediately ran back inside, not liking it one bit. And now you are living in meters of snow!’

‘Yes. The things we do for love.’ I heard the trailer door open behind me and looked over my shoulder, seeing two snowy bears enter, bringing with them a gust of icy cold air.

‘Close it..close IT!’ I exclaimed, waving at the door when Henry let it open, his arm filled with a number of plastic bags. Smiling, his nose also slightly red with cold, he bumped the door closed with his buttocks, Kal taking the moment to shake off the remains of snow in his fur and launching it at the both of us.

‘KALL!!’ I warned, the akita panting at me happily, acting as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

‘Shall I call back later dear? Sounds like you have some men to take care of.’ My mom’s voice sounded in my ear and I slowly nodded, my eyes tracking to Henry as he zipped out of his jacket and started rubbing Kal down with a towel, the dog continuing to circle away from him, thinking it was playtime.

‘Yea..call you back mom. Looks like Henry could use some help haha. Have fun with Cookie and send pictures!! Love you. Give dad a hug from me.’ - ‘I shall my dear. Kisses back!’ And that was the end of the call.

I quickly stood up and helped Henry dry off Kal, our smiles growing as the dog started to bounce up, licking our faces. ‘Who’s a good boy?!’ I cooed, rubbing him behind the ears, squatting down and allowing the dog to lean into me, going in for a big bear hug. The dog was more than glad to get all this attention, his head ducking down and pressing into my chest, eager to get even more pets. I laughed and looked up at Henry, seeing him get up and moving back to the bags that were now on the small kitchen counter, his hands digging through the contents

‘Whatcha got..-?’ - ‘Close your eyes!’ He stopped me mid sentence, looking over his shoulder with a mischievous glint in his ocean blues. ‘Ohhhkay..’ I said, slightly unsure, settling down so Kal couldn’t topple me over, the large Akita folding his large paws over my lap and also looking at Henry.

What was he up to? With a slow breath I closed my eyes, my hand continuing to trace languid circles through his fur. And then I felt something being pushed down on my head. Warm, soft. REALLY soft. A..hat? I wished to open my eyes but Henry clicked his tongue in warning, now picking up my hands and slipping them carefully in what probably were two mittens. My lips curled up in a smile, and I turned my head up expectantly.

‘Can I look now..?’ I asked quietly. Henry chuckled. ‘Almost.’

Then I felt something shift beneath my hands, Kal sitting up slightly.

‘Okay, now you can look.’

I opened my eyes and first saw Kal, wearing the cutest purplish blue knit scarf, and then the mittens on my hands. Also knit, but with a teddy-like material inside to keep my fingers nice and toasty. Reaching for my head I could feel a hat there. ‘With bear ears.’ Henry sniffled, nodding. ‘I know you don’t want me to get you presents. But it’s a bit of a special day.’

‘Special..day..?’ I quirked up an eyebrow, then smiled feeling the two small bear ears on my head. Slowly I lowered my hands again and gave Henry a studious look. ‘Special day.’ Henry smiled, sitting down beside me and Kal, his eyes glittering.

‘Did I ..miss..something?’ I gave him a suspicious look.

Henry chuckled. ‘Perhaps a calendar.’ He reached for my mittens and pulled me to his chest, noses nearly touching. ‘Happy half year anniversary sweet little icicle of mine.’ He said with a smile in his voice, his lips trying to brush against mine, but failing as I gasped in horror. ‘OOOH…I FORGOT.’

Henry laughed all the harder, shoulders shaking and Kal shifting so he could lean into the both us, head squeezed in between our chests. ‘That’s quite alright. Now c’mhere.’ He snickered, pulling my embarrassed face to his, our lips finally melting together.

And how hot and cozy that moment was.

Nothing big and outrageous. No hours of driving just to get to some half decent restaurant. It was just Henry, me and Kal. The three of us enjoying a first home cooked dinner in weeks whilst laughing at the extra warm clothes Henry had gotten me - he could not stand it seeing his girl be cold, and though he loved sharing his sweaters..he did need some of them for his own use too, especially when we went out for our morning runs.

It was sweet, thoughtful, simple and much of what I expected of true love. A maintenance kind of love.

And from here on any next steps in our relationship didn’t seem so scary. I had not even given the whole donorship thing a second glance since we had arrived in Canada. This? This might very well be it, you know? 

--

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x author #fluff #kal #henry bear #bear pack #maintenance #cold #family hug #romcom #the marriage pact #maple syrup dreams

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

The Governess and the Doctor’s Hunt for the Copper Beeches 1/4 | Sherlock x Reader

Prompt: Eight

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Words: 1836

A/N: Just an idea that popped into my head years ago since BBC Sherlock hadn’t introduced Violet Hunter from the Copper Beeches story, so I wanted to write my own version. Also, I wanted a story with Molly more involved in a dynamic with the reader similar to Sherlock and John’s.

Edit: I’m reposting this since tumblr still hasn’t sorted itself out about the tagging system because apparently it wasn’t showing under any of the tags

-

It had been eight hours since John’s last text. He had been nervous taking up cases with Sherlock again, even with a new babysitter looking after Rosie. You didn’t mind his frequent check-ins. Rosie had been a well-behaved baby, only crying when she needed changing or needed food. Other than that, it was pretty smooth sailing.

Eight hours was too long, though, even for a case like this. Another black market trail had been found and Sherlock was asked to look into it. You brought up your concerns with Mrs. Hudson, but she dismissed it, saying that this happened a lot and they always come back.

That night, you tucked Rosie in after her dinner, read her a story, and stayed in 221B. Thankfully, after weeks of working as Rosie’s babysitter, Mrs. Hudson mentioned that it would be easier if you lived close by, preferably in the vacant apartment room in the building. Sherlock reminded her what had happened in that room a couple of years prior, but the rent was cheap, a rarity in London, so you took the offer.

They did not come back the next day. You called Lestrade, who had not heard from them as well. You even asked Mycroft and he was firstly bewildered on how you managed to obtain his private number before saying that he had not heard from his little brother since the day he spoke of the case.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Molly assured you as she adjusted the microscope.

You sat on a metal stool across from her, chin resting in the palm of your hand as you sighed. You had Mrs. Hudson watched Rosie for a while, which she had not minded at all, before you went to see the one person that Sherlock confided in the most.

“Yeah?” you muttered.

“Yeah,” she said without confidence. She cleared her throat and continued to look through the lens. “They always manage to find their way out of dangerous situations. You know how they are. Sherlock would make things complicated, John would try to organize his thoughts, then Sherlock would have an epiphany. Then they come back with the case solved, Sherlock gloats at his brother, then they return to 221B, drinking tea with biscuits given by Mrs. Hudson.”

You hummed. “Okay. I’m just worried when Rosie realizes that her dad hasn't come home yet.”

Molly leaned away from the microscope and gave you a reassuring smile. “If you want, I can come over and help a bit.”

“Aren’t you busy?”

Molly shrugged. “It’s fine. Really.”

_

It had been eight days since the boys went missing. Rosie started to cry more frequently after not seeing her dad and uncle in a week. Molly had been helping you and Mrs. Hudson whenever she could and offered to ask Lestrade if he should look into their case. You declined her offer, knowing that Lestrade would consider doing it, but you didn’t want to use their resources. Instead, you looked through John’s notes. While Sherlock occasionally commented on John writing down their cases and adventures, you knew that he enjoyed it a bit.  It helped them get more attention and cases after all.

The black market had ties with many of London’s rich art collectors and none of them were going to risk being exposed. You brought your findings to Molly, listing off your theories as she worked. You had asked once if your visits ever bothered her, but she never minded. She liked the company, since it was only her in the lab with human parts.

After almost two weeks of the boys being missing, Lestrade had spared a small team to look into it and offered any more help he could. As you were walking back to Baker Street with Rosie in a stroller, a small boy in grubby clothes bumped into you, stumbling slightly and waved over his shoulder in apology. You grimaced, then quickly checked your pockets. All of your things were still there, but… there was a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there before. You looked around before hurrying inside, making Rosie a bottle of milk before setting her down in her crib.

With a cup of tea from Mrs. Hudson in front of you, you sat down on the desk that you were able to organize now that the boys were gone, and took out the note. The top edge of the paper was unevenly ripped, possibly from a notepad. The writing was in pen, the grooves deep with a few punctures through the paper at the end of some of the letters. The surface that the person was writing on was not solid, not suitable for writing. Hastily written as well, so they were rushing.

You frowned, sorting through John’s papers and dragged out one from the stack with a decent amount of his handwriting. The slant and the cross of the T were similar, as was the angle of the As. how he dotted the Is. Those small details were what made you believe that the note was most likely from John.

You took out another piece of paper and placed them side by side. The words were passages paired by numbers. Sherlock must’ve been the one telling John what to write. Luckily, he allowed you free reign of his messy book collections, so you were familiar with most of the passages or at least had an idea of which book they were from. You scanned each passage and quickly scrambled to grab the books, plonking them onto the table.

The boys were trying to tell you something and Sherlock knew that you’d be able to figure it out.

“Clever girl,” he’d say before awkwardly patting you on the head.

People outside of your circle saw your friendship with the consulting detective as odd, mainly because even after all this time, they still thought that he was odd. Being friends with Sherlock Holmes meant that you were free to express your interests in crime and mystery, in science and random bits of trivia, and were able to exchange knowledge, especially on things that Sherlock had deleted from his mind palace. You two grew close, and you’d be lying if you said that you did not harbor a crush on him. You had to lie, though. Your best friend was in love with him before and you had a feeling she still does.

After decoding the message, you found that it was an address followed by the word “Start”. You leaned back in your chair, raking your brain to figure out what that meant. After a quick google search, you found the address to be in Birmingham, almost two hours by train. You had a bad feeling that it wasn’t going to be that easy. First of all, you would need to get there, then find out where exactly they are, if they are even there. It was unlikely that the case would be solved by the time you’ve found them, so you would have to help wrap that up before taking the boys back to Baker Street. You didn’t want to be away from Rosie too long and bother Mrs. Hudson, but you don’t want to waste Lestrade’s resources. You knew Sally gets irritated when Sherlock would call for help on the simplest of things during the times where he doesn’t feel all that bothered to do it himself. Plus, what would a nanny like you know where to start…

“Start”... of course, you thought, there must be a trail of clues. Maybe something to help trace back to the boys. You couldn’t do this alone and you knew, if the person was free and willing, just the right person to call.

“Morning, dear Molly,” you said, strolling through the lab door with the papers in your hand.

Molly looked up through goggles from a dish with a brain in it. “Uh oh, sounds like you’re up to something,” she teased before going back to your work.

“When are you free?” you asked, leaning against the counter across from her.

“Well, when I’m done with this examination, I should be free for a couple of days. Why?”

You hummed. “Perfect.”

“Why?” she asked again, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” you said nonchalantly, placing the papers onto the counter. You folded your hands in front of you and smiled innocently at her.

Molly rolled her eyes. “You know, you’re hanging around Sherlock too much. He does that when he needs something but wants the other person to bring it up. What’s that?” She nodded over to the papers.

“A message…,” you said, “That I believe are from our boys.”

She paused her movements. “Are you sure?”

“It matches John’s handwriting and the words used could only come from Sherlock, I just know it,” you said.

“Why aren’t you going to Lestrade for this?”

You sighed. “Because… Lestrade’s busy and I don’t want to waste his time on something like this.” Molly shot you a worried look. “It’s fine. If things get serious, we can always call him. Besides, I believe that there are more than one message.”

Molly frowned. “I don’t know… I’ll see once I’m done with this,” she said.

“Okay,” you said, leaving the papers on the counter, “I’ll see you later, then. Text me first if you’re going to stop by. I’m planning to go to the shops later today.”

She nodded. “Alright, see you.”

You walked out of the lab and sighed. You would have to check this one out by yourself. No better way to prove a theory. That would also mean that you would have to leave Rosie.

“Oh, don’t worry, dearie, I’ve got it,” Mrs. Hudson said once you told her you had to take a trip. You didn’t tell her what it was for. Nothing was confirmed yet.

You packed lightly and got a train ticket to Birmingham. It had been years since you’d rode the train and you’d never done it alone before. How do you know you’re getting onto the right one? What if you’re late? You must’ve driven the station attendants mad that morning with your questions.

They kindly steered you towards the right train, notifying you when it was boarding. You stood at the platform, watching the tracks rattle as the train neared. There was momentary chaos as people boarded the train and you managed to find a seat by the window.

You busied yourself with looking up the address and the fastest route from the station to your destination. You hoped that the boys weren’t in a dire situation where time was of the essence. You didn’t have a developed mind palace like Sherlock had, you were still working on it. That would mean that with each clue, you’d have to go back and reference every book that you could think of that was in Sherlock’s messy bookshelves.

As London faded from view, you sighed, slumping back in your seat. What did the boys get into this time?

#WritersMonth2020 #sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock #apparently this post wasn't appearing in the tags ffs tumblr #i had a whole rant in the tags and everything then i had to delete the first post

[general-mahamatra]

Spalbert being domestic? Love your writing!

Spalbert, eh? fuck yeah dude

i’ll admit... i went a bit overboard and its more like “cooking with albert with some added heated making out” but what can i say? i couldnt stop myself

Pairing: Spalbert

Genre: Slice of Life

TW: Suggestive/Mildly Graphic NSFW

Wordcount: 3862

Note: I went overboard please send help. Also, sorry I can’t shorten it! Tumblr hates to work with me when I make these posts and edit them

Cooking dinner was not a common occurrence in the small Conlon-DaSilva apartment. It was rarer than the sight of them doing anything romantic in general.

But their one year anniversary was coming up and Albert wanted to do something special.

He stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, hands clasped together just under his chin. He had no idea what he was doing. Despite his years of friendship with Racer, all of the knowledge Albert had gained fell through. The guy barely retained information; he was lucky if he could remember what happened the day before. Hell, he didn’t even know what he had for breakfast that morning.

...did he eat breakfast?

Albert wasn’t too sure about that. His mind drew a blank the harder he thought, only resulting in a minor headache to begin his descent into misery. This wasn’t going to go well, was it?

His eyes slipped shut as he took a deep breath. Slowly, he exhaled, allowing the air to seep out at its own pace.

He can do this. He has the ingredients. He just needs to be careful with instructions and find the recipe Race had given him months ago. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Opening his eyes, Albert let his hands fall to his sides. 

Spot’s not gonna be home for another hour at least. That left plenty of time for Albert to figure out how he was going to do this. After all, last he checked pasta doesn’t take that long to make. Not even the recipe he swore Race sent him. 

Stepping into the kitchen, the ginger was slow. Taking his time to cross the wooden floor. He winced at the cold that rushed against his bare feet. How the hell could wood be so much colder than carpet?

Wait, that’s a stupid question. One of the stupidest Albert ever wondered.

Of course the wood is gonna be colder, it’s not made to be warm.

He padded across the kitchen, eventually making his way to the barely-cleared counter. Neither of them were ones to cook. While there were plenty of different things in the fridge and their cabinets, the most they did at home was make sandwiches. Hell, Albert’s rarely seen Spot eat anything but a sandwich of some sort at home.

Albeit, they would go out a lot. It was the perks of Spot being a personal trainer and Albert working as an electrician… in training. They made enough to support themselves and go out and spend some money for fun. Not a lot, of course. Spot was much more minimalist than Albert, leading to them barely having a stocked fridge.

Albert didn’t mind that. Although he grew up with a decent amount of food in the house, it was nice not to worry about stuff constantly going bad. Christ, they had an entire empty shelf in the door just because they barely had anything.

Except it made it hard for Albert to hide the stuff he bought.

Thankfully, Spot never commented on it.

Not that Albert cared too much. He would’ve brushed it off as wanting to try something new sometime and that’s that. Not like they started dating a year ago and he wanted to make something nice for the guy. Just a simple experiment.

He leaned against the counter with a small huff. If he was going to get anything done, he would have to find the recipe. And by God would that take a long time.

Pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, Albert went ahead and pulled up his text messages with Race. It was nice how they never actually texted “normally”. Majority of their conversations were on Snapchat. That meant whenever they sent each other important things, it wouldn’t be lost to chat history.

Of course, that didn’t mean they never sent each other things via text. Even now, it was clear the link Race had sent was drowned out by way too many messages.

It took ages for Albert to scroll through everything. How much time had actually passed was beyond him. It was likely it was maybe a minute or two but to him it felt like way  more. It was stupid, so stupid. Why didn’t he just click the link to save it like a normal person?

Because he’s an idiot, that’s why.

Finally. Finally, he found it. 

He clicked on the link, selecting the option to force it to pull up in Safari.

He’s not gonna lose it and be forced to scroll again. He refused.

By the time he had the link fully pulled up, Albert turned around, setting the phone on the counter. His eyes scanned over the words, a small frown setting into his features. This was far too much work just to make a simple thing of noodles.

Work that would be worth it in the end.

But dear God, there was so much stupid writing in the beginning. There were some helpful tips, yeah, but why did there have to be so much extra stuff? He’ll never understand the world of cooking.

With the page pulled up, Albert moved to the fridge and cabinet respectful, grabbing what he needed to make it. Noodles, vegetables, tomato paste… far too much shit.

Why did he follow through on actually making the sauce from scratch?

This was going to be a shit show.

A shit show that better be worth it in the end.

Albert tapped the screen when he realized it went dark so he could continue reading. Approximately 45 minute cook time, 6 servings. Yeah, that should be fine. They both ate a decent amount and it could be used for leftovers.

Though…

His eyes trailed over to where he had some ground beef thawing from earlier.

He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to add any meat to it. As much as he knew Spot liked red meats, Albert himself was pescatarian. Which meant he only ate fish. Sometimes he would cave and begrudgingly eat hotdogs or cheeseburgers, but that was only if they were stuck at some sort of arena event.

But he didn’t wanna take that away from Spot. After all, he was prepping the entire meal for him. It shouldn’t matter what Albert liked. He could deal with some beef in the pasta for the sake of his boyfriend.

So, Albert continued on as normal.

He scrolled past the ingredients, already knowing he had everything. The sooner he started the sauce, the better off he would be.

What sucked was the fact he would have to begin immediately with the meat.

Pulling out a decent-sized pot, Albert set it on the stove. It felt a bit weird having to cook meat in it, but he was just following the recipe. It was just going to be awkward for a while.

Taking the bottle of olive oil, he measured out the allotted amount and dumped it into the pot. Then, with a swift motion, he turned the burner on to the designated heat. 

When he went to grab the thawed meat, he paused.

This was the moment where it was all or nothing. As soon as he started cooking the meat, he would have to deal with it for the rest of the meal.

He grabbed a steak knife out of the holder before picking up the package. With a simple swipe, the plastic was sliced open. Setting the blade down, Albert pulled the packaging open.

There was no turning back now.

He carefully dumped the ground beef into the pot before setting the empty plastic to the side. Grabbing a wooden spoon, he looked back at his phone. Upon reading ahead, he was so glad he precut everything. He would’ve dropped dead right then and there if he had to chop anything now.

As the eight minutes passed by, Albert continued to follow the instructions. Soon enough, he was adding the onions before letting it simmer.

Idly, he stirred the pot from time to time. His eyes were mostly glued on his phone, scrolling through TikTok like his life depended on it. It was a nice way to pass the time.

By the time Albert was on the final step with the sauce, he had calmed down a bit. Not that he was too antsy, he was just… nervous. He wanted this to be perfect. The two weren’t able to go out anywhere fancy since apparently a lot of people have anniversaries in June. Either that or people were a bit too eager to go out to eat during the sixth month of the year.

After adding in the tomato paste and garlic and a select few other ingredients, he made care to stir it for almost exactly a minute. It wasn’t too hard given the next video he watched was just barely 50 seconds, so there was a plus there.

Jumping back to the recipe, Albert scanned over the next step before setting the phone down, screen up. He needed to add water, some crushed tomatoes, salt, and a “generous pinch” of pepper. Then all he had to do was stir it and let it simmer on low for 25 minutes. Not too bad.

With a quick glance ahead, Albert took note he had to start cooking the pasta itself 10 minutes in. Alright.

He followed the instructions, scraping the meat and veggies off the bottom of the pan before officially letting it simmer. With a quick set of the timer, Albert turned his attention back to his phone. 

Opening YouTube, it didn’t take long for him to find a 7 minute video.

He stood there, hunched over the counter with his elbows propped up on the stone. Occasionally, he would move back to the stove to stir the sauce. Of course, he didn’t pay too much attention.

When the video finished, Albert jumped into action with the pasta. There was 17 minutes left on the timer, meaning he had a couple minutes to spare. Maybe then he could figure out how much salt he’s supposed to put in the damn water.

In the end it wasn’t too hard to gauge. He just dumped a decent amount into the half-full pot and set it on the burner diagonal from the sauce. Turning the handle away from the main walkway, Albert turned the dial to let it boil and stepped back. It wasn’t going too bad.

Turning back to the sauce, he picked up the wooden spoon and stood there for a moment. The website had mentioned that he should taste it from time to time, make sure it was properly seasoned.

But the stuff was hot, he didn’t wanna burn his tongue.

He pursed his lips, staring at the red sauce as it continued to simmer on the hot burner. A small taste wouldn’t hurt. After all, he can just blow on it and be on with his life. He just didn’t want to have to suffer through dinner with a burnt tongue, unable to taste what he made.

Albert dipped the spoon into the pot, scooping a small amount of the pasta sauce.

With one simple taste, he was surprised to find it didn’t taste half bad. He did pretty good for his first try.

Now that he was content, Albert went back to watching YouTube. 

It wasn’t long before the water was boiling and he had to grab the noodles. 

With the box in his hands, Albert read over the directions on the side to get a good grasp of how long to cook the pasta. The label stated 10 minutes, which meant he would have to start testing it at about 8 minutes. That wouldn’t be too hard.

He opened the box and dumped the noodles out. It felt oddly surreal seeing the long noodles stick straight out of the pan. As much as he had seen spaghetti cooked in videos and on TV, he had never actually witnessed the process.

It was at that moment anxiety decided to hit him like a truck. Full on, straight into his chest. It was almost like a physical force had knocked him into an altered form of reality. Suddenly he was hyperaware; his clothing rubbed wrong against his skin, he heard every noise in the apartment along with the sizzling of the sauce and faint blabbering of the video. Everything was shoved full force into his senses.

Albert stood there, box in hand as he tried to process it all. 

His heart pounded against his ribs, ramming against it as if it were trying to break free. At the same time, a shiver coursed through his body, adding to the bizarre sense of consciousness.

His racing heart was what made his thoughts move a mile a minute.

What if Spot doesn’t like it? What if he came home with some fast food takeout like a normal day and it was all in vain? Does Spot even like pasta?

Fuck, is Spot allergic to pasta?

God. Shit. Fuck. He forgot to check what Spot was allergic to. What if he grabbed something and used it and Spot broke out into hives? God, that would be the worst anniversary ever.

A small whimper made itself heard and Albert was thankful he was alone. It was a pathetic sound, one of worry and panic that he never allowed the public to hear.

He finally set the box down, his vision blurred and unfocused as he stared at the cooking food. It’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine. Spot’s his boyfriend, he would know if the guy was allergic to something. 

But… What if Spot lied? Or… What if he doesn’t like the meal?

He didn’t put it beyond Spot -- or anyone for that matter -- to pretend to like the food and just order something later in the night. Anyone with a sense of decency would wait until Albert had long since fallen asleep.

Albert closed his eyes, taking a shaky deep breath through his nose.

Everything’s gonna be alright.

Nothing will go wrong.

Albert peeked one of his eyes open to glance down at the cabinet next to him. Quickly, as if he were worried about embarrassing himself, he knocked on the wood.

By the time he managed to get himself to settle down, the noodles were nearly done. It was a bit odd knowing he had spaced off for almost 10 minutes, but it happened nonetheless. He just hoped the stuff didn’t need to be stirred too much.

Following the rest of the cooking instructions, he ended off with strained pasta being tossed into the pot of sauce. With a quick stir, Albert stepped back and sighed. It was basically done. He did it.

A small smile tugged at his lips only to be whisked away.

There’s still so many possibilities of him fucking this over.

He could spill the sauce, overcook it as he waited for Spot, forget to dress up nice… but he had plenty of time. There was at least 15 minutes before his boyfriend was home.

Albert rested his arms on the counter, allowing his head to lul forward as he shut his eyes. It was almost 7 P.M., it was barely evening. At this point on a normal day he would’ve been wide awake playing video games or watching videos. Hell, maybe he’d even be harassing Spot, who knows.

But this isn’t a normal day, it’s their fucking anniversary. And now he’s exhausted for no fucking reason.

How much worse could it possibly get?

He pressed one of his hands to his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. He stayed like that for a while, ignoring the blaring time on the stove. He knew better than to assume he’d be in a position like that for much longer than a minute.

The light click of the front door closing went unnoticed by Albert. Despite how aware he had been earlier, suddenly he was ignorant. Everything that went on around him was ignored, purposely or not. His fatigue was enough to keep him bent over the counter, his eyes shut and head resting in his hand for support.

He didn’t notice the rustling just outside the kitchen or the heavy footsteps that followed. Hell, he barely even realized there was a presence nearby before a strong pair of hands settled on his hips.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise?”

Albert practically jumped out of his skin. He tried to spin around but only ended up knocking his hand against the knife holder. He hissed out a few colorful words and in the end, didn’t turn.

His boyfriend’s arms slid around his waist, allowing the familiar feeling of the shorter man being pressed against him be made known.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you in the kitchen,” Spot teased, resting his chin on Albert’s shoulder.

The simple, solid touch instantly made Albert relax. Tension he didn’t even realize he still had faded away and left him loose against his boyfriend. It was nice.

“Well, jokes on you, here I am,” Albert said back, smiling slightly. He tilted his head a bit as he tried to look at the brunette. 

A small hum came from the shorter man, the vibrations sending a shiver down Albert’s spine. “And what brings you here?”

That was when the panic returned.

Every inch of Albert tensed up, his attention darting over to the spaghetti. Fuck, he didn’t even prepare it. It’s still in the pot and he hasn’t even gotten dressed.

As if he noticed the tension, Spot gently caressed his thumb along Albert’s side. “Hey, it’s fine. You good?”

Albert tore his gaze away from the food and forced a small smile. “Yeah, I am.” Once again, he managed to relax. The feeling of Spot trying to offer physical comfort being enough to loosen him up. Though, it didn’t necessarily take off the edge.

What did was the sly movement of hands reaching up his shirt, running along his skin until they were on his lower back. The feeling of calloused fingers barely grazing his body made his breath hitch. He bit his lower lip, forcing himself to focus on that instead.

It wasn’t a surprise that Spot knew just what to do to get Albert’s mind off of things. The way the brunette moved along his body was distracting enough. It was even more to have the man reach up higher, almost as if he were exploring.

Except, is it even exploring if it’s already known?

“If you say so,” Spot said with yet another hum before leaning in.

A soft kiss pressed against Albert’s neck, causing his eyes to flutter shut. It was a pleasant feeling, one that spread warmth throughout his body. The warmth gradually grew fiery as the kissing continued. They were rougher than the initial one, eliciting a slight reaction from the ginger.

He tilted his head, hoping to allow the man more access. Despite it being from behind, Albert was mildly surprised the reach the brunette had.

It was always difficult for him to think about how exactly any of this was possible.

The rough hands that still held his body slid down to his hips and held tight. For a short moment, Spot pulled away just enough to spin the taller boy around. The movement was enough for Albert to glance down, offering a smile.

Said smile was immediately cut off by lips crashing into his. Once again, Spot was pressed up against him, pinning him against the counter.

Instead of returning to his upper body, Spot slipped his fingers just below the waistband. His thumbs pressed low, just enough to get Albert to try and squirm. It wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it was far from it. It just happened to be foreign yet again.

It was hard to focus on the chapped lips that moved so perfectly against his own, not with the small pokes and prods from Spot. There was so much going on at once that Albert didn’t know what to pay attention to or when.

Spot’s kisses trailed away from Albert’s mouth, pressing against his jaw as he slowly made his way to the ginger’s neck. Each one made him shiver, sending a shock down to the rest of his body.

Without the constant action, Albert was free to let his lips part as he basked in the moment. It all felt so wonderful, so… nice. He didn’t want it to end and he wanted more.

It was the first nip along his throat that extracted a quiet squeak from the taller man. The rush that ran through him at that very second nearly made Albert go limp. He hadn’t realized how deprived he’d been until then. And by God, was it amazing.

Spot’s hands dipped further, causing Albert to let out one of the most pathetic noises he’d ever made.

It was almost hilarious considering just how tough he likes to make himself seem. All stoic and angry and yet Spot always managed to do the perfect thing.

He could practically feel the smirk against his neck, making his cheeks heat up way more than necessary. Of course Spot would be cocky about it.

Any thought Albert had was cut off by the abrupt feeling of being groped. He hadn’t even realized the shorter man had moved one of his hands. With his focus on the bites, any other action had gone unnoticed.

A stifled moan slipped out of his mouth.

God, this was far better than the spaghetti.

The pleasurable heat that emanated from his groin was enough to let Albert forget about the food. If he could just get Spot to do more-

Wait.

The spaghetti.

Albert’s eyes shot open and he scrambled to push Spot away. The brunette backed off as some as Albert began to push, knowing better than to try and continue. He frowned at the ginger, his brows furrowed with confusion and worry.

“You alright?”

Albert nodded, shifting a bit as he tried to regain any composure he had prior. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He spun around, stumbling a bit as he scrambled to turn the burner off. He didn’t need the pasta overcooking. 

Sheepishly, he turned back to Spot. “I just… I didn’t want to keep it on too long.” Spot tilted his head at the comment. “I wanted to cook something for tonight and I didn’t want it to be overdone.” Albert bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never done this before. Cooking, that is, obviously.”

Realization washed over Spot’s features as the shorter man smiled up at him. That smile shifted into a grin within seconds when his eyes fell onto the pot. “Then let’s eat. We can continue later.”

Albert would’ve been perfectly fine if Spot didn’t wink right after that.

The sheer action nearly kicked his knees out from under him.

“Yeah,” Albert managed to say, swallowing as he tried to form words. “Later. Definitely. Yes.”

Spot smirked at the reaction, a bit too pleased with it in Albert’s eyes.

Maybe it would be a great anniversary after all. 

#Newsies #spot conlon #albert dasilva #spot conlon x albert dasilva #spalbert #newsies fic #slice of life #request #heelys gang #prince's writing

[goodbyevanny]

All-girls school AU - Good Omens

This has since been edited and posted on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22201279/chapters/53005516

Writer’s note: I saw a prompt on tumblr, and it hit me hard, as I went to an all-girls Catholic school and definitely did my fair share of pining over my best friend. That said, I’m in the US, in a very specific part of the country. So, in the spirit of write-what-you-know, the setting is in the US, and you will see some culture references to that. Keep in mind this is an AU. I’m gonna be honest, this is just a lotta self-indulgent wish fulfillment and me working through my own issues. 

Summary: Aziraphale Angeles has been given a fresh start as a first year at prestigious all-girls Catholic school and she LOVES it. She’s finally being left alone by her family, and she loves her uniform, her books, her tea. It’s practically Eden, if only she didn’t keep running into that trouble maker, Antonia J. Crowley! She does NOT need more questions in her life...

Rating: T

Warnings: Main characters both experiencing and participating in fat-shaming, homophobia, transphobia. Aziraphale grew up in a very religious, patriarchal household and her views will be in line with that upbringing. Of course, this will change through the story.

It will begin, as always, in a garden. 

It was the second week of starting at Immaculate Conception Preparatory Academy for Girls, and Aziraphale Angeles was feeling guilty over just how much she was enjoying herself. When the term had started, she hadn’t been sure as to what to expect, but so far it was surprisingly, well, wonderful. 

Honestly, she had expected to hate it. The Holy Angels University system was designed to so that you could spend the entirety of your academic career within it (and, in her family’s case, even after) and Aziraphale had known from when she was very young that she very likely would. This meant that entering high school was a simple matter of walking up a very steep hill to a new building. Her classmates, for the most part, had transitioned with her, and of course, she had a plethora of cousins in the school as well. 

She had anticipated her troubles from her younger years following her here, schoolyard taunts of ‘Azira-FAIL’ echoing in her head. She’d imagined being ostracized at lunch, eating at the end of a table filled with family and their friends, only being acknowledged with the occasional snide comment about how much she was eating, and how she never pulled her nose out of a book.

But it hadn’t been like that at all. First, the homeroom that she had been placed in had none of her former classmates. As the most prestigious private school system in the city, students from all over matriculated in, not just from the associated middle school, so there had been plenty of new students to meet. 

Even better, her homeroom was presided over by the head of the Theology department, which was always one of Aziraphale’s best subjects, and she’d managed to impress her professor on the first day. She was given the job of class rep, and that alone had given her the kind of protection and independence she had craved in her younger years. At first student council meeting she received a gold brooch with the emblem of the institution: a heart, encircled by thorns, pierced by a sword, wreathed in flames. Aziraphale had wrinkled her nose when she had received it, annoyed by the heavy-handed, overlapping imagery. But even so, she felt proud to have it shining on her lapel.

It wasn’t just the pin she loved; it was the whole uniform. Her brand new oxfords, with the sharp contrast of white and black. The silky feel of her stark-white summer knee-highs. Her brand-new summer uniform, the polyester skirt in inverse eternity tartan, with the matching camel colored tartan blazer and tartan bowknot tie. Her starched linen blouse, neatly tucked in, and large white grosgrain bow, perched like wings atop her perfect high ponytail. Or at least, her attempt at a perfect high ponytail. She found her white-blonde curls rather refused even the most maximum hold gel or hair spray, so by the end of the day a cloud of frizz had usually fought free it’s constraints and made it look like a haze or halo around her head.

Also, the high school was much more lax in how it corralled its students. Meaning, classes were held at regular times, and it was up to you to make sure you attended the correct number of sessions every week; other than that, your day was free for independent study. Aziraphale was allowed now to spend almost the entire day in the library, or quiet classrooms with cozy window nooks for reading. Combining that with her class rep pin, which allowed her to roam the halls as needed, she felt free for the first time in her life. It was heady.

Her evenings had been a delight of tea and cocoa, cozy blankets and books now that she had moved into the dorm. Her cousins, including Michael, were all in the upper years’ dorms, so after dinner, she didn’t even have to see them. Even better, some combination of her family’s connections and her pristine academic record had scored her a single room. The only thing that had disturbed her peace so far had been the loud music coming from the room across the narrow hall, but even that had been turned down when she knocked on the door, without her needing to say anything. 

She knew this peace wouldn’t last, but for now it was all just so lovely. 

Now, two weeks in, she was comfortable in her routine. She was in the back of Professor Tracy’s classroom, where there were several very cozy chairs set on a plush, if worn out, rug. It was one of her favorite classrooms so far; set on the third floor, overlooking the school’s science building and extensive gardens. The chairs were set in front of an unlit fireplace that probably didn’t even work, but Aziraphale thought gave a nice ambiance to the room. She was quite comfortable and, having already completed attending the necessary lectures earlier in the week, full intended to camp out in this chair for the rest of the day. She’d plugged in the electric kettle on the nearby shelf, intending to enjoy a cup of tea with the pastry she smuggled out of breakfast in her handkerchief. She’d gone so far as to carefully unlace her oxfords and set them next to her book bag, so she could tuck her feet under her. 

Today she intended to begin on the recommended reading list that had been provided to her by the terrifying University library assistant, and had checked out the few books that were carried by the high school library. While she waited for the kettle to be ready, she stared out the diamond paned windows that arched upwards, almost reaching the painted tin ceiling. It was probably the best view on Mt. Eden, overlooking the gardens and orchards that tumbled down the hillside to the valley below. Her eyes traced the highway that hugged one side of the mountain, only to then twist away into the distance, raised high above the valley so it nestled between the treetops. 

She could see dark clouds gathering at the edge of the valley and could see it would likely rain soon. Thankfully, she didn’t have any classes in the science building, which was detached, but she had her white ruffled umbrella with her anyway, and thought she might come up with some sort of excuse to go outside with it later today. Her brother had brought it back from Japan, and she was somewhat eager to use it, even if it wasn’t really needed. 

She had just settled in with her cup of tea, taken a bite of the pastry, and read the first page of Dangerous Angels when Professor Tracy interrupted. 

She hadn’t meant to interrupt her, of course. Instead, the teacher who was rapidly becoming her favorite professor was standing at the windows, peering down in the direction of the orchards. “Oh no, Mr. Shadwell. Ohhh leave them alone, they’re fine,” she fretted, and then finally reached for the hand crank to open the window. As soon as it was swung open, she was calling out and waving, “Mr. Shadwell! Mr. Shadwell! Oh dear, I don’t think he hears me, Sargeant Shadwell!” 

Well. There would be no reading through that nonsense. Aziraphale untucked her feet and wandered in her socks up to the window to look out, and immediately saw the problem. From this vantage point, it was easy to see the three girls lounging in the stone circle at the center of the orchard, and farther up the hill, the insufferable Mr. Shadwell making his rounds. The last call out of Professor Tracy had stopped him in his tracks, leading him to stand, eyes roving over the building, looking for the offending distraction.

There was no time to waste. Aziraphale was already back in her chair, shoving her feet in her oxfords and desperately tying up her laces. She’d have to leave her things, but she thought it would probably be fine, as Professor Tracy and her had an understanding...and with one last glance around she snatched up her umbrella and ran out of the room.

Aziraphale hated running. It conjured up the worst memories for her, sweating and taunted in gym class, in white T-shirt that she felt was unnecessarily tight. Michael, her cousin, laughing and pinching the flesh above where Aziraphale’s gym shorts dug in. “Like a fat frosted cupcake,” she teased, and the nickname had stuck. It had taken over a year before Aziraphale could eat cupcakes again without furious tears. (Not that she had give up eating them, though, because Michael was not taking that away from her too. She just sniffled through through deliciousness.)

Yet now she was running, out of the classroom, down the hall, and then down the stairs in leaps and bounds, taking multiple steps at a time and then out outside, down more steps towards the STEM building and the accompanying gardens. She had recognized one of the students from the orchard immediately: Eve. They’d met in homeroom, and had started a tentative friendship; at any rate, Eve saved her a seat every morning and afternoon in their homeroom.

The heat outside was oppressive, even with the increasingly storm dark skies, the humidity instantly freeing wisps of curls to halo her face and fluffing her ponytail. She tried to smooth the white blond strands back against her scalp even as she ducked behind an impressive hedge of oleander, trying to see where Shadwell had gotten off to. She sighted him as she passed the long line of towering cypress that ran alongside the driveway behind the school. He was shouting up at Professor Tracy, who was hanging partly out the window, obviously hoping to catch the notice of the students and get them to move. Shadwell sounded apoplectic, and was alternating between stomping his feet and vigorously pointing at the professor. 

Aziraphale hurried down the limestone steps at the edge of the slope  to the gravel path that wound through the orchard, gritting her teeth as sweat began to drip between her breasts and collect along the underwire of her bra. Eve and her were going to have words this afternoon in homeroom over this. 

When she reached the stone circle, she pulled up short. Eve was there, sure enough, with her long dark curls, lustrous eyes and smooth complexion. Aziraphale couldn’t help but return a helpless smile as Eve caught sight of her and grinned, a mischievous brow arching. But Aziraphale’s smile faltered when she caught sight of Eve’s company. First, there was a boy. Wearing their uniform, no less. Where had he even gotten it? From Eve? What was she thinking? If she was caught with a boy they would be expelled! And her other friend—Aziraphale gave this second girl a look over. “Good Lord,” she muttered. 

This second girl lounged on the stone benches that made up the ring of circle, long legs spread out before her and weight resting on one arm, while the other was propped up on her bent knee. The only thing that kept it from being ridiculously lewd was that she wasn’t wearing the skirt uniform. Instead, she was wearing the pants, in the black eternity tartan, completely out of season. Her matching blazer had been tossed over the bench behind her. Her shirt was untucked and her tie was tied like a boy’s. She was wearing what were likely very fashionable sunglasses, because they looked ridiculous, and her head tipped back so she could look down her nose at Aziraphale as if Aziraphale was the one that deserved to be judged. 

But, worst of all, was her hair. Loose, like Eve’s, but carefully styled, deep red curls. It hung down her back in ringlets, and Aziraphale was sure it wasn’t naturally that color. No one had the right to that much color, on their head, it was obscene, and wasn’t that just the perfect word for this creature, she thought, as her eyes traced down the long line of her tanned throat, and did she have her top button undone?!?

Eve was laughing, “Oh c’mon, if you glare any harder you’ll burn a hole through them,” and the floozy had the gall to smirk. 

Aziraphale whirled around to face Eve, hands on her hips, white umbrella still clutched tightly in one hand.”Have you lost your mind? What are you doing down here? With a boy?” She threw out an arm and waved it up and down to encompass the offending human, who was adjusting a pointless, but lovely, matching headband on their shaved head. 

“Oh? Jealous already, Azira?” Aziraphale stepped back and her mouth fell open, eyes wide. “What? No! Of course not! I just,” and hold on, she wasn’t the one out of line here. “BOY!” she snapped back, and gestured again.

“It’s just Adam. We’ve been friends forever, Adam having such a time of it at the boys’ school, and Tony had the brilliant idea to have them hang out with us here! I mean, if they’re in uniform, and we just hung out in open classes, how would anyone even tell? We’re firsties, professors don’t even know us yet, really.”

There was so much wrong with that statement, and too little time to unpack it all. “You and I are going to have a talk after study hours tonight. But for now, Shadwell is doing his rounds, and you all need to get out of here,” she could already hear him cursing and sliding on the gravel at the top of the orchard. Tony–of course this delinquent would have a boy’s name–looked up the hill in what might have been a vaguely interested way, but it was impossible to really tell with those stupid sunglasses. Then, quick as a snake, she was up on her feet and was exiting the circle, one hand saluting with a “Ciao.” She slipped between the trees and was gone.

Aziraphale rolled her eyes, and went to follow, but Shadwell had spotted them. “I see you, ladies, stay where you are! Miss Angeles!” He was in sight of them now, but was slowed by the steep incline of the gravel path.

“Oh!” Aziraphale spun in a circle, fretting, and finally her hands flew to the gold brooch on her lapel. “Oh no,” she lamented, but there was nothing for it. She unfastened it and then quickly reattached it to Eve’s blazer. “Stay behind us,” she told the boy, who wisely hadn’t said anything so far, thank the good Lord, because she didn’t think she’d be able to handle any more idiocy at this point. 

They barely had time to turn around when Shadwell burst through the bushes. “Out of class!” he spat. “Smoking? Drinking?”

“Please, Sergeant Shadwell, I think you know me a good deal better than that.” Aziraphale stepped forward.

She hated “cheating” in this way, but she also knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle to get Shadwell to get him to let this go. Angelic influence was required. And by that she meant, of course, the Angeles family name. Her family was the founding benefactors and remained the principal donors to the Holy Angels University System, and being a part of that family did come with certain privileges. 

“Eve is a class rep with me, and um, Professor Tracy saw this student out of bounds so we were sent to escort them back in. For demerits,” she said, nervously tucking wisps of her white-blond hair behind ears. 

Eve stepped forward and tapped the badge for good measure, trying to distract Shadwell from getting too close of a look at her companion. Although, Aziraphale really wished she hadn’t, because now Shadwell would ask—

“Hrmph. And where’s yours, then?”

“Oh, um,” Aziraphale glanced around like she actually expected to see it lying on one of the stone benches, and not like it was pinned to Eve’s blazer plain as day. “It’s around somewhere. Forget my own head next,” she smiled and laughed weakly, and prayed Shadwell didn’t ask why the girl behind them had no hair and broad shoulders. She was delivered, though, by a single distant bell toll. “Oh goodness, we need to get going to our next class! Thank you Sergeant, you’ll take over patrolling where we left off, yes? Ok!” And then she was steering Eve and the boy forcefully up the gravel path, through the break in the crumbling stone wall around the orchard. 

It wasn’t until they were back in the building, the halls crowded with students passing to their next class that her heart started to calm. They followed her as she ducked down a side stairwell that lead to the basement level and pushed open the door on the distant side of Mt. Eden. The slope would lead to the bridge that connected their crest of Mt. Eden to the lower hill of the boys’ school.

She turned to Eve. “Ok, you have to get him back to his own school, he can absolutely not be here when classes let out for the day. All in all, this was a terrible idea and I can’t believe you let that girl tempt you into it!”

“Azira, thank you so much for coming to get us—

“No, best not thank me, I do feel a bit like I’m sending you into the lions’ den. I have no idea how you’re going to get him back on campus.”

Eve reached up to her lapel and began to unfasten the pin, but Aziraphale reached out and covered her hand with her own to stop her. “Oh, no need to worry about that. You can get it back to me another time. You better hold on to it for now, it might be useful.”

Eve smiled, dazzling Aziraphale, and then threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly, and for a moment Aziraphale was breathless. Just as quick, Eve stepped back and took up Adam’s hand, and pushed open the door. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

“You better!” Called out Aziraphale, but then the door swung shut with a heavy snap, and she wasn’t sure if she’d been heard. It seemed too final, and she wanted to see that Eve and that stupid boy were safe, so she headed up the stairs. She cleared the basement level, then passed the stairwell entrances that lead to the classrooms, one, two, three, floors. Here, a red velvet rope cordoned off the stairway, like an exclusive club awaited beyond, and she awkwardly stepped over it. When the staircase turned again for the next level, the marble steps gave way to concrete. There was a heavy wood door here, with a keyhole, but she knew it would open for her. She pushed it and now she was in an empty storage space, under the sloped roof of her school. It smelled musty and old, it was hot, but stronger than that was the sharp scent of cedar, which paneled the entire space; roof, floors, walls. All intended to drive away the moths, she supposed, because stacked floor to ceiling, across the wide space, were hundreds of books, stacked to the roof, forming twisting corridors interspersed with antique furniture. Aziraphale left this all ignored and picked her way through until she came to a ladder against the wall. 

Looping her umbrella over her wrist, she climbed up until it reached the hatch in the roof, and leveraged it open with a strong, firm shoulder against it. It gave, flinging open and she made her way through. She was in the bell tower; the large brass ladies hanging heavy overhead, a choir of sixteen, ropes strung across the soaring space overhead. Aziraphale spread them only a quick glance of appreciation before she opened the side door and headed out onto the roof.

The roof was bordered by a white limestone crenelation, and Aziraphale stood behind one of the merlons to stay hidden from anyone looking up from the ground. She could see Eve and the boy approaching the bridge. Mercifully, it was cooler up here. She wasn’t sure if that was because the roof was able to better pick up the increasing breeze, or if it was because the storm was finally closing in. She reached up to smooth down her frizz against her head to no avail. She could feel it instantly curling back up.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” and Aziraphale wasn’t surprised to see Eve’s friend sauntering up to her. Because of course she would know how to get up here. 

“I’m sorry, what,” snipped Aziraphale, already at her wit’s end with this girl. 

“I said, ‘that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Oh, yes, rather,” snarked Aziraphale, because honestly, whose fault was that?

“Well it just seems a bit of an overreaction if you ask me, handing out demerits for sitting outside.”

Aziraphale rolled her eyes. “Yes, sitting outside and demerits, that’s definitely what you had Eve risk,” she said with another head to toe look over of Tony that shouted, you are as slow as you are pretty. A second lookover did not improve her opinion. Tony was still in the eternity tartan pants and black blazer, with her tie tied like a boy’s. As the breeze whipped her deep red curls back, away from her graceful neck, Aziraphale noticed a pair of long black snake earrings, twisting in loops down from her ears and definitely longer than allowed by the student handbook. 

“Seems a bit ridiculous, though. Big stone seating area in the middle of an orchard, why put a bunch of benches up if you don’t want anyone to sit there? Why give us all this free time and the ability to sort our own schedules if they don’t trust us to go inside to class when we’re supposed to?

 “Oh for g—for goodness sake, you brought a boy on campus! Eve could have been expelled!”

Tony smirked. “Eve, huh?” And anyway, the point is that we wouldn’t have even been noticed if we were allowed to sit outside. Doesn’t make much sense does it?”

Aziraphale could feel her face hearing. “Best not to question things. The rules are the rules, and they’re not that hard to follow. Just because something seems ineffable, doesn’t mean that it isn’t right.”

“Ineffable? Did you really just throw the word “ineffable” into conversation, just like that?”

Aziraphale answered with a glare.

“Just trying to give you some trouble,” she said, giving a blinding white smile.

“Well, I dare say you’ve succeeded. What were you thinking, bringing a boy on campus? And dressing him in our uniform, have you lost your mind?”

She paused because she could see how, across the bridge and down the hill, she could see Eve and the boy duck behind a crumbling stone wall as campus security drove by in a golf cart. 

“A boy? You mean Adam?”

She really should have reported this girl when she had the chance. “YES. HIM. Who else would I mean?”

Tony shrugged and leaned her shoulder and hip against the merlon next to Aziraphale’s, somehow lounging while still upright. “I dunno. Adam’s probably more a girl than me, I figure. They certainly look better in a skirt.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but glance down at Tony’s long legs, somehow making tartan pants look fashionable. They would just have to agree to disagree about that one. When her eyes came back up, Tony was smirking again, and the heat of the day seemed to have returned. Lightning flashed in the far distance, and they could see a curtain of rain begin to steadily make its way across the valley below.

“They’re going to get caught,” fretted Aziraphale, and she wasn’t sure if she meant in the rain or by security. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Tony took off her sunglasses, hooking the arm of them in the V of her linen blouse, which only emphasised that yes, she really had left the top button undone. She peered down the hill and then back to Aziraphale, and frowned. “Aren’t you a class rep?”

 Aziraphale’s brain had short circuited the moment she had met Tony’s eyes, no longer hidden by the sunglasses. ”What?”

‘“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” Tony asked, reaching out and twirling a finger over Aziraphale’s lapel, thumb smoothing over the spot the material still indented in. “I’m sure you did. It was glittery as anything.”

Aziraphale had never seen anything like her eyes. Like harvest moons, golden to the point of glowing. “Oh, um. Yes.”

“Lost it in the mad dash, huh? Or did Shadwell confiscate it?”

And there was that damnable smirk again, which finally broke her out of the spell of Tony’s eyes. “Well, if you must know, I gave it to Eve,” she huffed, her face burning under Tony’s scrutiny.

“You what?!” Asked Tony, her smirk dropping into an open mouthed, genuine laugh. 

“I gave it to Eve! She was trying to take Adam all the way back to the boys school, it’s dangerous! If she’s caught she could be expelled! So I said take the pin, don’t thank me, could help you get out of a tight spot, and don’t forget to be back before you’re missed. Oh, I do hope I made the right decision.”

Tony started to roll her eyes, seemed to remember she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and abruptly turned to look for Eve again. “Oh, I’m not sure an angel like you can do the wrong thing.”

Aziraphale’s heart sank a bit. Angel? What does she mean by that? Not that she cared what this delinquent thought of her, but she had thought she was being judged on the basis of her own merits, not by her family name. 

“Well, thank you for the reassurance, I guess,” her ingrained good manners forcing her response. Lightning flashed, immediately followed by a boom crack of thunder overhead. The curtain of rain swept up the mountain, obscuring their view of Eve and that idiot Adam. Aziraphale hurried to open the umbrella and with a flick of her eyes, communicated to Tony she should step under it. Not a moment too soon, because the rain poured down around them.  It was a tight fit, and Aziraphale could feel the heat from Tony’s body seeping into her body, from shoulder to hip.  

They stayed there together, eyes straining to see their friends through the storm.

TBC

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