#and to be blessed with thousands of fics out there is so mind blowing

[bianotbia]

— 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇 [𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐬]

this was another fic I already had on my drafts, now that my summer vacation started I finally can go back to my creative self and write more so stay tuned :) hope you enjoy my unholy thoughts

⤷ resume : bless me father for I have sinned... unholy thoughts start to cloud your mind and father michaelis takes the matter into his own hands [wc: 2.4k]

⤷ contains : nun! reader x priest! sebastian, nsfw, religious themes, someone gets slapped

⤷ now playing Monochrome kiss by SID

A wind of monochrome blows

Through our colorless encounter

I shall entrust my pain in its entirety to you

Painfully delineating my old scars,

The merciless autumn has arrived,

And it entices me with its cold fingers

The faint morning sun reflects through the stained glasses of the countless church windows, like colorful spots dancing on the cold stone floor. As usual I woke up, ate breakfast with the sisters of the convent and together we did our morning prayers. After this shared moment, they all start their daily duties but I like to stay a little bit longer and enjoy the vast silence and peace of the house of God. My eyes were closed and my lips soundlessly moved as I recited my prayers alone, however the air seemed to change and I could now feel an eerie presence watching over me, still when I looked around no one could be seen. Out of a wooden door comes the priest of our church – Father Sebastian Michaelis – his piercing eyes fall on my figure and I feel the heat taking over my face, anyway I shake off any intrusive thoughts and promptly head to my morning activities. With imponent arches towering above me I walk down the corridor on my way to a class of little kids waiting for me, yet the feeling of ominous eyes still lingers on the nape of my neck with every step I take.

I am like a burdensome piece of ice

That has just melted into a puddle

You scoop me up gently

and fondle me playfully with your lip

After dinner everyone went back to their rooms, candles were extinguished one by one and the white stone walls now reflected the bright moonlight. A few candles still dance upon my table and cast shadows on the walls as I write about my daily thoughts and feelings in my diary. Lately a dark desire clouds over my mind and stains my soul each second it passes, day by day this unknown sensation seems to take over my heart. Countless prayers, thousands of words written every night, endless hours of work, it was worthless paying attention to any other thing for even after doing everything to stop this feeling my mind still wanders back to him… Father Michaelis. Unaware of the sin that crawls under my skin, I recall the many moments that in the middle of the Sunday worship his words would slowly fade away and a tingling feeling would spread over my core. I shivered and writtled while kneeling on the ground, praying for the sisters to not notice my trembling figure as unholy thoughts flooded over and dirty images got imprinted inside my brain. Every night my mind wanders off to those moments and haunts me in my deepest longings, once again my fingers travel under my nightgown and caress away the desire under my skin. Shrouded by the shadows of the night I can only hope that the all-seeing holy eyes don't watch over me this time.

Nevertheless, I search for a single drop of love

I look into your eyes that have never once cried,

They tell a tale beyond time

If I could, I'd like to be shrouded in this pain and simply let things end

Hiding within the night,

We have covered up our pale skin under the moonlight

On this gloomy autumn morning, I was once again dealing with my hauntings on my lonesome prayers. The other sisters were already out doing their daily chores, however I still could hear some young novices gossiping on a secluded corner of the church, there wasn't many people around, actually we were the only ones there so some snippets of what they were so heatedly talking about made it over my ears "... he's so hot for a priest…" a choir of quiet giggles echoed in the air "... isn't saying those things kind of a sin?" the giggles got louder and so did my hammering heart "... I'm certain God would understand me since he made Father Michaelis so fine like that. Don't you imagine what's under his pants?". That's enough. Anger boiled inside me, my short breathing got louder and louder as a dark presence took over my body and unconsciously directed me to the group of novices. "Aren't you ashamed of saying such things inside the house of God?" I blustered and the three whispering girls turned over to me with surprised faces, the one seeming to be the oldest lifted her chin "Why? Are you jealous that I can say those things while you are trapped in that Virgin Mary thinking?". Anger traveled through every inch of my flesh, my mind went blank and I could only hear a loud snap echoing through all the church halls, followed by a stinging sensation on the palm of my hand. The girl was crying and clutching her reddened face, the other two ran off, probably to snitch to some higher nun what just happened, as for me, I walked away feeling as light as the white feathers of the Holy Spirit.

Many nights have passed since then,

And my love for you only grew stronger

In the sea of obsessive dependency,

I have forgotten even to breathe

I heard a knock on the door of my room and went to open it, another young novice was standing there with scared eyes "The-they sent me here to say that Father Michaelis wants to meet you at the confessional" I looked at her shivering figure and questioned myself if she was scared that I was just gonna slap her for delivering the message "If that's all than you can go, tell whatever nun that sent you that I'm already on my way" the girl shook her head and ran down the corridor, with a guiltless mind I went the opposite way thinking about what could I possibly tell him to clear this situation. As I arrived at the stall and closed the door behind me a deep voice broke away the silence "Hello sister, please tell me what afflicts your soul. May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His mercy". Shivers went down my spine as my once steady hands made the sign of the cross "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been" a sigh escapes my mouth "... three years since my last confession. These are my sins." I gave a pause after saying that and considered lying about what happened to spare myself and the girl of a lecture later, yet something told me to say the whole truth "I felt anger… so much anger… lately I feel like all kinds of sins are taking over me. It seems harder and harder to concentrate and feel at peace" words unconsciously dripped through my tongue "What did the girl say to make you so angry?" with nervous hands I crumpled my habit "That she had impure thoughts about you sir". That dreadful silence seemed to last countless hours "Did you want to punish her for thinking that way?" words got stuck on my throat "... I-I was jealous of her'' a satisfied hum traveled through the division of the stall. "I don't know… it felt like something was crawling under my flesh… anger, greed, envy perhaps" an expectant silence floated in the air "Aren't you forgetting another sin, child?" I could hear the grin on his lips as he waited for my reply "... Lust?" I hope he can't hear the deafening sound of my heart bursting through my ribcage "And how often do you feel it?" "Everyday". Even though the stall was secluded and closed it still felt like a thousand eyes were pointed at me, piercing through my raw flesh, specially those I felt behind my neck lately "Well, I think that's all I need to know for now" his voice seemed different but still I continued "I am sorry for these and all of my sins" he hums again "Why don't we go to my office? So we can talk about this more thoroughly".

While I'm captivated by your gaze,

You've left behind only some dull warmth

I despise your habit of quitting at your convenience

As well as your arrogant kiss

The path to his office was dead silent and every sister that passed through us either looked away or whispered something to their friends. As we arrived he politely motioned for me to enter and sit on the chair in front of his table, as I sat over a faint click on the door could be heard, I turned to him and met his ever unreadable eyes and mysterious grin "We don't want those nosy eyes bothering our talk, do we?". He sighed deeply and sat in front of me "This situation is not much like you sister" my eyes fell to the ground while he gazed out of the window continuing "I remember when you were just a novice. Such a pure heart… yet so aware of the evils of the world". Silence reigned over his office and I said with a quiet voice "You still didn't give me a penance sir" his grin grew wider letting out a chuckle "Don't worry about that child" he stood up and calmly walked behind me "I don't believe you're entirely wrong. All these things might be considered sins in the eyes of God, but I preach that for one to spread virtue must first know sin to warn other pure hearts of the evils of the world'' his slender fingers traveled along my shoulders and up to the nape of my neck. "Don't you want to protect your precious students from what's out there? For this you must feel sin on your own skin" he whispered over my ear and the tingling sensation on my core starts to spread through my body once again "Go to your room and pray ten Hail Marys. By midnight I will visit you so we can finish your penance" my breathing gets hitched and I crumple even more my already messy habit "Why don't you do it now?" he chuckles "Patience is one of the virtues you need to start working on, now go child". I lift from my seat and walk over to the door "It's locked…" he hums and unlocks it while gently trailing his finger along my chin whispering "Well forgive me sister, sometimes I too can give in to dangerous desires" with those words echoing inside I return eagerly to my room.

Don't leave me alone

Please understand me and stain me with bright blood

No matter what I say,

My words will only slip right through your room

I'm already disarrayed and falling asleep,

So won't you teach me something else?

Only the moon is looking at my sighs lost in your smiling inquiries

Hours passed and the moon was already high in the sky, I paced around the room thinking about what could possibly happen in the next few minutes. A knock was heard on the door, standing before me under dim light was Father Michaelis and his gaze that as always seemed to reflect every uncertain thought I had. I greeted and welcomed him inside which he calmly did "Did you pray the ten Hail Marys I asked you to?" I shook my head and he sent me a kind smile "Then let's begin your penance. Please take off your habit" my eyes widened and I felt my face heating up. "Why the surprise? I told you before that I believe you need to experience sin to finally be enlightened by virtue. I as your holy representative will help you on this task, or did you already take the matter into your own hands before I came here?" involuntarily my thighs clenched over and he cooed "What a dirty girl. Seems that the matter is worse than I thought, perhaps your penance will be a bit rougher then". He helped me undo the buttons of my habit, feeling the fabric slide down my body I then lay on the mattress while he also takes off his clothes and hovers over me with his bare body "The only thing I ask is for you to recite the Prayer of the Penitent and when you finish it… everything will be over" I shook my head and started it.

Once the clock's arms point straight into the ceiling,

You will no longer be with me,

For I will no longer be needed

"My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart" his warm hands gently traced the sides of my body while moist lips sucked the skin on my neck "In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good" the hot breathing on my flesh sent goosebumps all over it. "I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things" slender finger traveled down to my core and caressed my soaked folds "I firmly intend, with your help to do penance" as he slowly inserted himself inside me I could feel his length filling up empty spaces I never believed to have. "To sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin" with a rhythmic pace and synchronized breathings he opened up my raw heart to the holy sight "Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us" we clingged on each other, shivers went through our bodies as sin dripped over and mixed up with our overflowing fluids "In His name, my God, have mercy". He did the Prayer of Absolution and finished it over with a deep moan "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good" even breathless I still manage to continue it "His mercy endures forever" and with a faint sigh he ends our blessing "The Lord has freed you from your sins. Go in peace". Cloaked by the shadows our intertwined bodies finally sink deep into the stained mattress, with a worn down feeling I can feel my eyes closing and my lightened mind slowly drifting away. His lukewarm hands trail unknown patterns on my back as his fading voice travels through my slumber "Such a pure soul stained by sin… Can't wait to feel your luscious raw taste entirely inside me. This penance isn't over my darling".

Nevertheless, I search for a single drop of love

I look into your eyes that have never once cried,

They tell a tale beyond time

If I could, I'd like to be shrouded in this pain and simply let things end

My wish echoes hollowly,

While the night still brings in the dawn

With your tender, passionate, yet shamelessly sly kiss,

Please stain me, in this moonlit final night of demise

#sebastian michaelis #black butler #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #black butler imagines #sebastian michaelis imagines #black butler smut

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Assuming Aro and Carlisle were both on the same dating app, what are their profiles like? Ie, how do they present themselves to attract others (and I know they're already in relationships let's just blame the dating app gift vampire).

Bonus points for Elezear because he's the worst.

I want to know what AU has caused vampire dating apps.

I can only assume we're in one of those cutesy AH AUs where Carlisle is a barista (not allowed to be a doctor anymore) and Aro is a cutthroat lawyer at his practice Volterra, and the pair totally aren't into each other except they are and find out over the course of thirty chapters how these two get together over hard to remember coffee orders!!!, or as you say the Dating App Vampire, we'll call him Larry the Lovebird, has used his gift to bless every vampire with profiles.

But alright, I can pretend this is another blog for a moment and that I do write Ao3 fics instead of eldrtich monstrosities.

Aro

We know from Aro's hunt for Sulpicia that he was looking for a very specific kind of person and not afraid to shop around to find them. More, with his gift and long life, I imagine he'd be less willing to discard someone based on things others do (having a degree is not a sign of intelligence, he doesn't really care what class someone is from, so on and so forth). I imagine he'd take a similar approach on a dating app. Except, in the most ridiculous way possible.

See, Aro's going to want to cast a wide net and he has his gift to cheat.

So, he's going to make himself as interesting as possible, certainly non-threatening (me? ever kill someone? perish the thought) just to get that first date where he can touch your hand and decide "yes" or "no" based off of every thought you've ever had.

Now, he can't do "generically" interesting as in online dating culture "long walks on the beach", "love hiking in the mountains", are all things everyone says they do but 5% of the people who actually say it do. He'd not only look basic, but he'd look like a liar (which he is).

So, I imagine what Aro does is present himself as a very niche persona then change that persona every few months in the dating rounds.

One month, Aro's really into heavy metal, really, super, into heavy metal. His profile is a bunch of quotes about heavy metal. The next, he's a gym bro. The next, he's a lover and poet.

Mostly, Aro just uses it as a way to meet interesting people, get interesting stories, and troll around while keeping an eye out for someone he'd actually find interesting.

(Though the real answer is that he wouldn't, as he already did this thousands of years ago with Sulpicia, and it doesn't seem like a hobby he'd pick up in this modern day.)

Carlisle

He fundamentally does not understand dating apps and has no desire to seek someone out in a relationship "oh ho ho, have I told you about my baggage where I'm a man-eating demon who can never get close to everyone, survives constantly starved, and more?"

I imagine his app is just his name and his face.

That's it.

He looks like a lazy attempt at cat fishing.

Eleazar

Now, I don't know about Eleazar, his participation in the Denali escapades is technically up in the air, but I know the Denali would likely have dating apps.

But if Eleazar had one, if we're going wtih my interpretation of the worst man alive, then it is a sight to behold.

Eleazar in leather pants with a rose between his lips (he is Spanish you know) lying on a couch looking at the camera seductively behind a black and white filter (partly to make him look less like a demon, partly for the sexy). Eleazar shirtless in front of a mirror in an artsy shot that looks either out of a style magazine cover or the film Zoolander.

All the quotes amount to "I will blow your mind", but said more eloquently and often in Spanish.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #aro #carlisle cullen #eleazar #meta #headcanon #opinion

[unearthlyfromage]

First Chapter of the Evil Stan fic is out now!

"The Costs of Our Hubris Chapter 1: Eyes and Sockets" is out on my AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49386823/chapters/124630234 Original AU made by @ahkaraii here on Tumblr! Shoutout to @koraesdoodles for being my wonderful beta-reader and dealing with my dyslexic ass abashdanshaha The chapter below the cut for anyone that wants to stay here on Tumblr:

Thousands of clashing colors swirling far above, a symphony of bellows swirling in coils worming its way through mind, body and soul. It thrummed in his ribs and escaped through his marred and mangled mouth in droning snores. His body sprawled out and writhed into a lifeless form, shaded by the pale and dusted rocks basked in the blooming presence of a God so sweet. Stanley Pines was sleeping. A horrible noise echoed in the winds around him, blowing and shifting in random directions, the skyline highlighted in natural disasters of all forms. Beautiful, colorful chaos. Home. The serene scene was broken by the pounding of fists, the shrieking of demons and cackling of others. One eye opened wide, and he woke up swinging. Hands outstretched to blackened rose thorns, body acting before mind as he tackled and raised a hand to the one in front of him, a wry and wild look in his gnarled, scared face. The cackles around him were all consuming, some egging him on, others telling him to knock it off, all while the one underneath merely stared. 

It wasn’t until Stan broke out into laughter of his own that the scene unwound. He sat back on his haunch to snort and giggle, arms wrapped tight and sharpened finger tips digging into his sides. “Nice nap, Fishie?” Teeth chattered, stumpy flesh-pink arms prodding and poking at him. The others chided in, all poking and pulling but he didn’t seem to mind, laughter dying slow as he started to reciprocate. 

“Always!” he growled, grabbing Pyronica by the horn and 8-Ball in a chokehold, the rest jeering as the two struggled. The largest of them shoved the three forward, the large purple loaf gesturing forward, his party hat shifting with every movement. Huffing, Stan let go of them, staring up at the sky. “Why’d ya wake me?” he asked, walking with them, gait sluggish but his one eye wide and alert as the other stayed hidden behind bandages as he wasn’t blessed enough to show it yet, there was no need too. No one to intimidate.

“Boss wanted to see you, Fishie” Keyhole slapped him hard on the back, earning a wry grin.

 “Time t’ head out already?” Stan asked. If he were honest, he would be upset. He hated leaving. He loved returning, sitting with them all jeering, sharing stories of destruction and chaos, impromptu sparring matches devolving into rolling on the floor biting and mauling each other like rabid dogs on an abandoned island. 

Camaraderie in the finer things, cheating in cards and lying about it. The only positive notion of leaving being all of them leaping off this dying realm to claim planets in their illustrious ruler's name. He placed a hand on the three-sided sigil woven into the fibers of his garb upon which he was blessed, a silent prayer at the edges of his mind that a chorus of voices accompanied, a choir of twisted wants and dreams of which he prayed to see, lest his final moments be in the endless sea of bodies.

They were talking to him this entire time, of course. But he was not focused on them now. No, instead his eye was toward the sky, the beautiful swirling colors bleeding out into their distinct streaks from the swirling point, the very center, a throne of bones and black ichor that squirmed and writhed in the same waving dance as the blood in his veins. 

It was always such a treat, to stare up at everything you lived for. Sinking to his knees, he awaited to hear that shrill, echoing voice, the impending doom resting its gargantuan weight on his shoulders and pressing him towards the dry and crumbling ground as if he were nothing more than a measly tic on the body of a beautiful blood soaked dove. “GOOD JOB WAKING THE FISH BOWL,” a bright yellow light far above said, the golden glow of their God. All sound simmering to low murmurs as all rose to stand up straight, eyes of all kinds staring up in awe and utter devotion as he arose from his place on the throne and sunk down to rest just above them all. Bill stared at them all, a wide slit pupil gracing them with his presence. The clouds swirling above him, a halo bathed in the red hues of liquid vindication, the destruction of an innumerable amount hanging above him like trophies. “FISHIE FISHIE FISHIE WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN UP TO?” He swirled around them all like a cluster of vultures, snapping and snarling and starving, eye unrelenting and piercing into their very beings. The weight of power over his head was crushing, Stan's head lowering to a bow of respect and adoration as he spoke firmly. “Training for th’ day you release me again, Boss.” He kept his voice low, tone testy and stricken in fear-born respect. Forged in years of dismemberment and hard lessons taught through bloody knuckles and broken bones. “LETS MAKE GOOD ON THAT. YOU SEE FISHIE, THAT PLAGUE NEVER STOPS! THEY FLOOD MY WORLD BY THE MILLIONS EVERY SECOND, THEY GROUP LIKE PESTS! WILL YOU TAKE CARE OF THEM FOR ME?” 

A frigid three fingered hand pressed against the top of Stan’s head, and the man's eye narrowed. All they were doing was causing more harm. Boiling hatred in his chest that made his face hot and arms numb. The swirling of voices caught and caged between his ears howling and begging him to tear them apart. Rip limb from limb, eyes from sockets, drag them here to be judged for their crimes and made to bow in front of his God, the being who so graciously saved him. Gritting gnarled teeth, his entire body shivered in disgust. “Always.” It was definitive, a rage unquenching, curdled like milk boiling in the hot sun. 

“I DON’T WANT TO SEE HIDE OR HAIR OF YOU UNTIL YOU BRING ME THEIR SIX DIGIT HANDS, FISHIE. WE DON’T WANT CONSEQUENCES OF INSUBORDINATION, DO WE?” Bill was leaning against him now, thin arm wrapped around him like the embrace of an old friend. “Never.” He would not waver. He would not be sidetracked, nor blind-sided, he was better. He was stronger. They were weak, they were going to hurt thousands if he didn’t do it. “WHAT ARE YOU?” “I am a weapon.” 

The others, his family, colorful and chaotic all grinning at him like he had done a great service. Pride swelled in his chest upon seeing their gazes locked solely on him. This was home. He was going to miss it, he always did. How long would it be until he began to beg to come back? To the soot ridden wasteland, rolling around in dirt and salt as he scratched their backs so they could scratch his. He would make them proud. 

“THAT’S JUST WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR, FISHIE!” Bill swirled the glass in his hand, cane hooked on his neck. “NOW GO MAKE ME PROUD, OR DO I STILL HAVE WORK TO DO ON YOU?” His voice deepened, darkened, a threat laced in layers upon layers, the rumbling sound of a deity testing the will of his creation. “I will make you proud, Boss.” He gripped the sigil once more, an act of comfort, of guidance. He knew the way, so long as he let the Eye engraved into his being show him where to move. 

“THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” His God howled and giggled like a child, the sound shrill yet melodic, as Stan took off running. 

Boots scraping against dry pale ground, fissures cracking and breaking apart like spider veins on an ancient being spanning as far as the eye could see. The only distraction in the endless sky of vibrant colors being the floating, suspended shrapnel of worlds long since lost to time, torn asunder and consumed to feed their dying prison, their dying world, their home. 

He wished to be the lucky one who gets to see their world change, to stand there and stare in delight as Bill carved an Earth of their own making, a party that never ended, a victory among millions shared in the red rivers of blood from all those who doubted and disobeyed, a thick desire in his disjointed heartbeat to see what was prophesied, be the lucky fish in the endless sea to gaze upon a future carved in their Gods image, to see him spread the lovely ichor of chaos and disjointed agony into every crack and crevice of existence itself. 

His destination was nearing, the drop off into the infinite void ever nearing, his hands reaching down to grip the edges as he slowed to look down, down into it. The black spiraling mass of destruction ripping and tearing at the chunk of world he put his every stake in. The thing that suspended them, kept them alive, its dying drones and grumblings heard in the white noise whispering into his eardrums, a thousand tongues he couldn’t understand murmuring promise and threat into his soul a sensation that made him writhe. 

Eye open wide, he awaited his chance. The blipping, pulsing echo of unbirth ripping apart to give wrought to a colorful light of another world; one to begin his hunt that he may not return from for years to come. The thought of jumping sparked fear in him, a force that ground its heel in his spine and forced cackling from his lips, a sound wheezing and uncontrollable as he sucked in air like it would be his last. Feet digging into the ground as chunks bore from the dirt and fell infinitely into nothingness. 

With a satisfied sigh at the painful thrum of life, he vaulted himself off the edge, wind blowing against him as a warning, strands of air holding his arms up and legs back, the screams of a lover trying desperately to hold its partner back from the indefinite emptiness. 

Closing his eye, he relished this, enveloped himself in the warmth of a free-standing exit. He hit the ground hard as he sucked in the damp air of a new world surrounding him. 

He did not know where he was, but he knew he had a purpose. He scrambled to his feet then dug his claws into the nearest wall to begin scaling it, its structure porous and alive. Thick strands stuck to him with every pull of his hands. It was soft, spongey. Mushroom, perhaps, he voiced to himself asking for agreeance in the disembodied horrors of his fragmented inner narration. 

They seemed to agree. 

Standing up tall, he stared down at the world below him. Thousands of people, creatures of all kinds, shambling to and fro. None looked like him. None were to be judged for crimes, lest Bill himself arrive to take the land by siege. 

Growling lowly, he had a feeling this hunt would take longer than normal. He found them all quite fast, usually. Yet here he could not see a single one. Scaling back down, he clung to shadows as he made his way through this new planet. He’ll find one soon enough. 

He was sure of it.

#revised evil stan au #my user on ao3 is unearthlyfromage #unearthlywritings #“The Costs of Our Hubris” #gravity falls au #Stan Pines #Ford Pines #Evil Stan AU

[appassaddle]

Do you think you’ll ever return to writing avatar fanfics? I really miss your writing!

Hi there dear!

I'm glad to infer that you enjoy my writing :) , but I am a terribly slow writer even at the best of times and very very rarely do I ever publish wips. (I think I've done that only maybe two or three times ever in *squints* ~two decades of writing fic.) ((I like to think the wait is worth it most of the time lol!))

That said, most likely at some point I'd like to finish and publish some of the wips I have, but I can't give a timeline for when the muse strikes! But for some hope, my current document for ATLA related fic snippets/ideas/scenes/etc runs close to 60 pages worth, for as little work as it's seen this year ;).

So, I'm as curious to see as you are nonny, haha!

But, since you worked up the nerve to ask, here's a little snip of some worldbuilding I keep in mind when writing (that hopefully won't get too jossed by the Yangchen novel!):

Avatar Szetzo’s name is commonly invoked by Fire Nation students before exams or tests (or by the more prepared, before studying).

The Earth Kingdom likes to invoke the name of Yangchen, the blessed protector,  the one who battles spirits who mean harm and keeps the peace. He name is muttered under breaths of the worried, the scared, the impatient, accompanied by a touch to the forehead and backs of the hands where her own tattoos had sat. Blessed Protecter, grant me wisdom, grant me patience, grant me peace, in a thousand whispers in a thousand different towns. During the war it fades, the generations without an Avatar growing disillusioned with the idea of such a protector. In the early days, there are some brave souls who make pilgrimages to the Eastern Air Temple, disabling Fire Nation traps and restoring what they can, leaving offerings at the feet of the statues of the Avatar. Ropes of flowers, precious stones, fresh foods, offered in the hopes that it will help guide the lost Avatar to help them, to guide them home. The older generations still look up with hope when the breeze blows particularly well, sending the ribbons or flags flying as if carrying their hopes along with them.

There are some places in the Fire Nation that have an unexpected soft spot for Kyoshi, both for her skill as a fighter and her sense of morals. Sometimes the hand on a blade stills in her name. The small southern island of the Sei'naka clan in particular looks kindly upon her, keeping a small shrine in her name even when it was against the law of the land. Why, they will not explain to outsiders to the island. She is revered not for her fighting prowess, but for her skill in stopping fights, for her healing abilities that would soothe burns and scrapes.

Kuruk’s once good name fell from grace in the eyes of him home in the north. There are only so many ways to argue the case for a brilliant tactician when he fell so far. He is not regarded in Water Tribe circles as a great Avatar- though Kyoshi in her time tried to amend the past as best she could- but he is held in high esteem as a hunter. His spear and hood are given life and stories within the stars, stories of his great hunts told over fires to young men out on the tundra in the deep night. They hold that finding the point of Kuruk’s spear in the night sky always leads back home. He is also well-regarded in circles of pai sho masters, especially those who favor certain gambits, and there are several strategies attributed to him.

There are pockets of islands that favor Roku, but his was most fondly remembered in the southern air temple, as a friend of those who lived there. After his name was all but outlawed form being spoken in his homeland, the monks carve his statue for the Avatar’s hall with care.

The Southern Water Tribe most often invokes the name of Aang, adopted son of their people, beloved of their most favored daughter. His name is used in the name of peace and its keeping. They affectionately call him a waterbending avatar as much as an airbender. The tunes of old airbenders are as easily heard sung in the southern tribe as they work or sail across the sea, coaxing the wind to be favorable to them as they go.

#anonymous #asks #answers #my fic #headcanons #also i am a teacher and the last couple years have been ....rough lol #so any creative energies have had to be put towards my irl gigs #and i write when the hyperfixation demands release from my brain #i too wish i could control it but ah well

[kbstories]

i know this was probably just reblogged bc of your cat (also, bless ph my god) but i just read your new fic and for that snd because it‘s always a good time when i get an update notif of yours through my emails, i would be honored to give you a little kiss. on da cheek, or de forehead, i don‘t mind. or just an air blow kissie in your general direction, from a distance. lol. 🌬x thx <3

Omg how cute is this, thank you!!!

I’m honored you read that fic so quickly, it’s been a while since I properly sat down to write (thanks to the move & a thousand other things happening at once) so I’m double happy to see folks are looking out for my stuff 🥰 more to come soon I hope!!!

#anon #ask #i indeed rb that because of my cat lmao she’s Insatiable #🥰🥰 ty again!!!

[deancaskiss]

to all the fic writers out there who have made 2021 bearable and have given us all countless hours of happiness and escapism, thank you so much

#to all the writers #y’all have made this year so much brighter and better #how lucky are we to have fic writers who give us all so much #to all my fellow writers #sending you all so much love #fic writers deserve so much love and appreciation #writing is hard #and to be blessed with thousands of fics out there is so mind blowing #ao3 #ao3 writer #writers #fanfic writers #fic writers #fic writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction writers #fanfic #fic #fanfiction

[sarah-sandwich]

If you're still playing the headcanon ask game I'd love 15 and 20 for Spideypool if you're cool with answering other ships! No pressure if not though!

YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES

Nobody here ever asks me about spideypool. This is my hand ✋ please take it in marriage. A quintillion blessings upon you and your family 🌸🌼🌻🌹🌺🌈🌟

15. What it takes to make them cry

A better question is what doesn't make Wade cry. That man will tear up over anything that touches his heart and, contrary to popular belief, that's not difficult to do. He's starved for affection. He'll get misty-eyed over commercials and have tears streaming down his cheeks during the big inspirational speech in a movie and if you show him even a crumb of kindness he'll get all choked up. His pain tolerance is high but he does feel pain so you can expect his face to be damp under his mask for those big injuries.

Peter bottles up all of his pain and all of his hurts and doesn't let himself have that release of emotion because he thinks he deserves all of his pain and hurts. But he's a sympathy crier. The moment he notices tears in the eyes of someone he cares about (and that guy cares about SO many people whether he wants to or not) his tear ducts spring a leak and there's nothing he can do to hold it in check. It makes watching movies with Wade an Ordeal™

16. What ifs/Alternate timelines

What a question for spideypool lol I mean, there are a million of those! This is about my headcanons though so...

I already did my take on a soulmate au which you can find here.

All of my what ifs are like, what if Peter is mean to Wade but then he gets to know who Wade is under the protective barrier that is his personality and then they fall in love but THIS TIME they're in SPACE or THIS TIME it's while they're on the run from a super villain who REALLY hates RED lol

Idk if this counts but I have a plot bunny that may or may not grow into a fic where Wade is wary about Spider-Man. He doesn't think anyone can actually be as good as the other heroes claim Spidey is, especially when he's more inclined to be cynical and listen to what the Bugle has to say about him. But then he sees him in action. Wade is farting around during a city-wide event, not helping take care of the threat but not getting in the way either. He watches Spidey take hit after hit to keep civilians safe. He like, catches a bridge or something and gets beat to hell but he gets back up with a quip and gets the people to safety.

That's all it takes to change Wade's mind. There was no media to perform for. It was just Spider-Man taking care of a handful of strangers at the detriment of himself.

Then Spidey loses his mask and Wade gets a big ole eyeful of Peter's horrified face as they lock eyes. In Wade's mind, he knows the perfect solution is to forget what he saw and he knows the perfect way to make that happen is by shooting himself in the head. So he does. And he forgets everything he learned about Spider-Man, including that he's Good all the way to his core.

When he wakes up he doesn't remember what happened. He only knows what Spider-Man told him he did and that he doesn't trust Spider-Man and Spider-Man sure as hell doesn't know why he did it.

Wade thinks Spidey did something and is covering it up by making him forget. So he stalks him. Spidey notices and they get into a big argument where Wade demands to know why he would blow his own brains out because he knows that he loses his recent memories when he does that so he never does unless he's feeling self-destructive or has a very good reason.

And that's when Peter figures out that Wade did it to protect his identity even though he absolutely didn't have to.

Ahhhh enemies to lovers my beloved <333

Headcanon ask game

#ask games #sarah's headcanons #i'm having a lot of fun with these thank you 🥰 #peter parker #wade wilson #spideypool #betrothed anon

[secretlyblue12]

day 11: Mineshaft

I'm starting to run out of ideas of what to type before fics so oof XD This one's more lee ranboo because,,, why not

Ranboo wasn’t doing well, anyone would be able to tell that just by looking at the hybrid. He wasn’t taking care of himself, had dirt and soot all over him from his nonstop mining, and bags beneath his eyes where he refused to take a break even to sleep. Phil knew he would have to step in eventually, though he had been holding on hope that Ranboo would know his own limits, so when he saw Ranboo come back to mend his pickaxe, he stopped him.

“Hey, Ranboo can I talk to you for a second?” He asked, trying to come off nonchalant, but Ranboo didn’t pay him much mind.

“Can it wait, I found a new cave I was wanting to explore but needed to just pop in real quick so my stuff didn’t break. If it’s important you can send me a message on our communicator and-”

Phil stopped him before he could brush him off entirely. “It’s actually, um, well you’ve been mining a lot and I wanted to know when the last time you slept was.”

Ranboo paused, turning to look at the birdman with a confused look in his eyes. “W-what?”

“That last time you slept or ate a meal somewhere other than underground?” He pushed, not dropping the topic even when Ranboo shifted uncomfortably on his feet and tried to stutter out an excuse.

“I-I haven’t been tired. And I’m fine to eat while mining, it doesn’t bother me.” He said, confirming exactly what Phil had already known.

With a heavy sigh Phil made a decision he hadn’t wanted to need to. “You’re not going back out to the mines until you sleep in your bed for a full night and eat something in the house. You can’t push yourself like this, mate, it isn’t healthy.” He wasn’t surprised when Ranboo protested either, mumbling something about being independent and how he could take care of himself. Phil raised an eyebrow to that, “Like you have been? A strong wind could blow you over Ranboo. Come on, I’ll make you something and then you can go to bed.”

Ranboo didn’t follow Phil when he started to walk over to the house though, and the man had to do a double-take to realize that Ranboo was standing in the middle of the snow pouting at him.

With a sigh, he walked back over, grabbing Ranboo’s wrist and walking both of them to the door, only a little surprised with how Ranboo was whining and trying to pull his hand free. It was obvious he was tired, and that had been affecting his mood recently. Phil had been a parent to three kids, he knew all about how important naps and proper rest and meals were, so none of Ranboo’s complaints landed too hard. He had heard them a thousand times over when Tommy had gone through a phase of refusing to shower or brush out his tail.

They made it inside, and Ranboo had stopped talking or looking anywhere near Phil altogether. Oh, the silent treatment then.

Phil put on some soup to heat up, leaving Ranboo to sulk in the doorway. The fact he hadn’t tried to leave was a blessing in and of itself. He waited for it to heat up before setting the bowl on the table and giving Ranboo an expectant look.

The lanky hybrid just huffed, looking to the other side of the room.

Two could play that game then, Phil decided with a devious plan. He’d just start pulling out tactics he used on Wilbur and Tommy growing up, both of them had a stubborn streak a mile long, and he could get those two to cave then he was sure it would work on a fussy enderman.

“You know, I was thinking about going mining myself, but the longer you make us sit here the longer it’ll be before I can go.” He said, pretending to sound more annoyed than amused.

Ranboo’s head whipped around to look at him, his mouth opening and closing as he debated if staying so obstinate was worth it. Just as Phil expected, the hybrid let out a grumbled ‘vwoop’ and a string of frustrated chirps before mumbling out “Why do you get to go mining and I don’t! That’s not fair.”

“I get to mine because I come home and take care of myself,” he said, crossing his arms and waiting to see what Ranboo’s next move would be.

He shuffled on his feet, fidgeting a bit with his hands before shaking his head. “I take care of myself too, you’re just- you- that’s not fair.”

“Maybe I’ll just go mining now, then,” Phil said, another memory popping up in his head. Tommy had always needed an extra push before he caved in, and the memory stuck out in his mind. “And you’ll have to sit here while I go mine all by myself, and you won’t be able to leave until you can show me you’re taking care of yourself.

Ranboo huffed again, not looking at Phil as the man snuck closer and closer. “I know just what I want to mine, too. I can see it right in front of me.”

The hybrids ears twitched, and Phil watched confusion spread across his face. “What? That doesn’t even make sense, how can you see it if we’re in the house?” He looked over to Phil, who was standing in front of him now, “Phil?”

Mm,” The older hummed, raising his hands so he was ready to dig into Ranboo’s ribs any second, “Yep, I’m going to go mining right here, Maybe I’ll find some bullshit? Or where you got that attitude from.”

He sprung before Ranboo could make sense of his words, digging his fingers in between the bones and laughing when Ranboo immediately crumbled under his hands. “Ah! I- Wahait. Thahat’s not mihihining Phihil! Youhu’re tihickling me!”

Phil chuckled evilly, “Oh, does it? This is a serious mining mission, I don’t know why you would be laughing at me. Should I be mining for laughter instead if you think it tickles?”

Phil moved a bit higher up, listening carefully to the shifts in Ranboo’s laugh from cackles to higher-pitched giggles and chirps. “I see, here we have squeaky laughter. I think I’ll want to stock up on some of that.” He said, keeping at the spot just to watch Ranboo’s knees start to buckle under him. He wasn’t sure if it was because the enderman hybrid was just really ticklish, or if it was just another sign of how little he had been taking care of himself.

Ranboo, on the other hand, was going mad. The feelings were spreading all throughout his body, sending tingles and particles everywhere. He couldn’t even find the strength to push Phil’s hands away. When he realized how heavily he was leaning on the other just to say standing, he knew he was screwed, but he didn’t want to give up yet. He grabbed onto Phil’s wrists, though he couldn’t push them away. Just having them in his grasp felt comforting in a way, as if he had some control over the current situation.

Phil only stayed there until it seemed like Ranboo was getting used to the touch, his laugher getting more relaxed the longer it went on, then he moved them down to squeeze at his hips. It was a bad spot for both Tommy and Wilbur, and while it was a good one for Ranboo it wasn’t as intense as his ribs.

Ranboo folded in two, putting his head in the crook of Phil’s neck and trying to muffle his squeaky cackles. “This is a good spot too, then. Hmm, I’ll only need a little bit of these and I should be good to look for something else.” He said. He could feel how Ranboo was starting to fall and didn’t want to over do it.

He kept at it until Ranboo started shaking his head, before moving his hands upward once again, past his ribs and to the hybrids neck, making soft and sleepy giggles take over as he fluttered his fingers gently across the sensitive skin. “This is a nice spot though,” he said, more so to himself than with the intention to tease Ranboo anymore. He could feel the taller melting into him, and decided to wrap it up nicely with gentle back tickles that would turn into him just rubbing the enderman’s back.

He kept at it until Ranboo pulled away, a hand fisting at his eye sleepily.

Phil pulled him over to the table, sitting him down on shaky legs and pushing the now cooled soup closer to him. “That was a successful mining trip if I do say so myself. Eat, then go to bed, you can mine again tomorrow if you really have to, but don’t think I won’t go back for a second trip if you pull things like this again.”

Ranboo blushed, particles buzzing around his head as he picked up the spoon. “Fine,” he mumbled half-heartedly.

Phil stayed to make sure he got into bed, okay, not letting him crash on the couch, and practically carried him next door to his own house to get a proper night’s rest. He turned out the light, Ranboo having fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and smiled to himself. At least he knew that tactic would still work, though he might have to bring it back for Tommy and Wilbur at some point if they kept their nonsense up.

#mcytickletober #tickle fic #tickling #tickletober #day 11 #lee!ranboo #ler!philza #blue's fic

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

time travel aus, amirite? since we’ve all decided to start talking about our ideas, i thought i’d throw my hat into the ring. i’ve actually had this idea for a while, i just wasn’t sure what to do with it because i barely have the patience for one-shots, let alone the continuous plotted longfic this would need

it’s not my idea, of course, i’m incapable of original thought. it’s based off this can-i-really-call-it-a-genre-if-it’s-two-fics-with-the-same-premise where some combination of maedhros, maglor, elros, and elrond land in the blessed realm before - even the unchaining, in my take, when the ambarussa are still children and the world is blissful. it’s more specifically my take on this fic, which takes elrond and elros from very early in their captivity and maedhros from just before the silmaril theft and maglor from several centuries into the second age. i just plugged my own characterisations into it, and, uh. the specific setup this not-genre uses is that maitimo and makalaurë *~mysteriously disappear,~* throwing their extended family into chaos, blah blah blah, and then a few decades later -

well. with my characterisations, we have a nightmare hellbeast who’s burned up everything he used to be in singular pursuit of an unreachable goal and has carved his very self into a weapon, a completely drained beaten-up husk barely cognisant of reality past the screaming in his mind who’s so utterly broken it’s debatable if he even counts as an elda, and two extremely young extremely traumatised children in a completely unfamiliar land- and skyscape whose only adult they can maybe-kind-of trust is currently bleeding from the eyes and shrieking wordless notes of utter despair

yeah, this au’s Fun. elrond and elros have maybe eight words of quenya between them, most of which are obscene, maedhros will act completely normal until he suddenly stabs himself in the arm because can’t this stupid hallucination end already, he has a character arc to tank, and maglor seems completely unaware he’s not still on the beach having the same cyclic arguments with the ghosts of the people he failed. the elves of valinor aren’t completely unprepared to deal with this, at least not the ones who remember cuiviénen, but it’s still a massive shock to see two of the children they came to the land of the gods to protect twisted and scarred like the worst victims of the dark. especially since noone can figure out why

so yeah. i have trouble finishing oneshot collections, so i doubt i’ll ever write this out in full, but i do have a lot of Scenes. fëanáro staring in utter horror at the oath, whispering ‘i made this.’ elros and elrond’s somewhat hole-filled explanation of their backstory devolving into a sindarin argument, and when the family asks tyelkormo what they’re talking about he freezes before saying ‘they’re arguing about whether maitimo killed their mother.’ the moment maglor finally managed to get through what happened after they got the silmarils to maedhros, who immediately switches from off-the-cuff self-harm to well-planned suicide attempts. the five-minute period the family hellspawn’s working theory was ‘they’re maitimo and makalaurë from an alternate universe where we’re evil’ (‘is there an evil version of me??? does he eat kids???????’ - tyelko) finwë going full bulldoze taniquetil in the background. fun times, might write some snippets in the future

but i like to think through the mechanics of this kind of time travel story too much, so i started wondering where maitimo and makalaurë, yanno, went. i quickly came to the conclusion that they probably swapped places with their evil future selves, giving me three time travel aus for the price of one! technically four but (a) i’m not sure if or with who the twins would swap and (b) if they did their alternate selves are probably having a really bad time and i don’t particularly want to think about it. the stories maitimo and makalaurë are in... they’re not necessarily any happier, but they are a lot more wtftastic

maitimo falls asleep under the light of the trees, on a relaxing retreat from the demands of court life and family-induced disasters. he wakes up in a world that’s almost completely dark, surrounded by plants he’s never seen before and wearing clothing designed for a much warmer climate, the scent of death in the air. now permanently separated from all his old problems, maitimo rapidly acquires several exciting new ones, including but not limited to:

everyone he ever loved being dead or worse

the lone possible exception, his last surviving little brother, being an almost unrecognisable blood-drenched kinslayer who hates everything in the universe especially himself

said blood-drenched kinslayer almost immediately imprinting on him like a grouchy murderous duckling

his future self having apparently wanted to kill even more people, why

getting dogpiled by like thirty dudes in full armour the instant they showed up at the army of the west’s camp to surrender

getting soul-scanned by eönw two minutes later. not fun

arafinwë pulling him into an enormous hug and then bursting into tears

the subsequent explanation as to just what happened to him and his brothers, which somehow got worse after he’d already thought they’d hit rock bottom like four separate times

proceeding to lose a staring contest with findaráto

the way everyone in camp looks at him like he’s an incredibly dangerous wild animal that might bite at any time

how if half of what arafinwë said is true he can’t even blame them, fuck, fuck

the twin half-elven(?????????????) princes he and his brother apparently kidnapped and held hostage for years, inflicting unimaginable cruelties as far as anyone knows

his first meeting with the kids happening when elrond broke into where they were holding maglor to scream at him in very loud very fast very angry sindarin for like half an hour

maglor just staring at him, eyes wide, ears pinned back, the whole time, and then trying to maul the first guard who mocked him for it

getting saddled with kinslayer containment duties in the aftermath of that whole incident

elrond punching him in the collarbone when he tried to apologise, shouting ‘you weren’t there, don’t you dare try to tell me what it was like’

elros’ visible half second of pure terror after the blow hit home

elros then using recognisable techniques from maitimo’s debate team circuit during a speech to the edain

like, clearly some shit did happen, but it’s obviously not what the local leadership’s afraid of

this sour-faced scar-covered warrior slipping out of the shadows in an unpopulated part of camp, kneeling before him, intoning ‘the swords of the host remain at your disposal my lord’ and then immediately vanishing

he didn’t recognise them until after they’d left but they were definitely one of his philosophy club friends, what even

just generally having woken up in a future a thousand times worse than his darkest nightmares

his natural instinct is to try and fix things, but how?? what’s even left to fix????

maglor sometimes goes into these unhinged desperate spiralling rambles directed at the older brother who exists in his head rather than the one in front of his eyes. whatever’s left of maitimo’s biggest little brother is clearly in so much pain

all the things he’s trying extremely hard not to think about because if he slows down enough to he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse

all the people he’s never met who hate him for pretty understandable reasons and whose social structure he now has to learn to have any hope of making it out of All This

the edain’s collective insistence on calling him pasthros

curufinwë isn’t even a hundred how does he have a kid

makalaurë, on the other hand, wakes up on a beach beneath a giant glowing orb. finding himself in a land so much barer than what he knows, among people whose souls don’t even work like his, his initial working theory is he’s been abducted by aliens

#silmarillion #my terrible fic #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #house of feanor #suicide /// #self harm /// #or in other words #late stage feanorians #other mental images include: #nelyo getting stupidly drunk with a bunch of edain enablers #random human fisherman: better not go out to the shore by night. there's a wandering spirit that sings of death and devours souls #kano: wow. you got a lot of those around here or #nelyo and kano glowing like beacons (they were just in the treelight after all) and constantly being surrounded by curious humans #nelyo talking the elro twins into talking to earendil while they still have a chance #galadriel: how dare you show your face around here kinslayer!!! #kano: ... wait are you artanis #he subsequently meets elrond and then serves as a sounding board for elrond's maglor issues #elrond: you know you act a lot like he did when he was blatantly faking being happy #kano: ... WELP #honestly i do feel like nelyo hangs out more with the edain than the other elves #for fun at least. he is bodily dragging mags into lorien he's never going to see these people again ever #as for the political situation... bless him he's trying #idk how all these aus interact i suspect there's divergent timelines involved #one last image: #seeing as how if he continues how he is everyone and everything he's ever loved will burn and die #feanaro steels himself up for the impossible #making up with nolofinwe

[tripleaxeldiaz]

darling let me trace the lines

a flower shop fic for my beautiful @elisela <3

read on ao3

I. Birth Month Flowers

The bell above the shop door rings, but Eddie ignores it in favor of putting the finishing touches on the wedding arrangement he’s working on. There’s only one person who’d come in after closing anyway, and he’ll make his way to the back room soon enough.

He smiles as he feels strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and a chin come to rest on his shoulder. He puts the last of the peonies in place before turning around to greet Buck properly.

“Hi,” he says, arms coming around Buck in return. Buck’s smile gets bright and Eddie melts, like he always does. 

“Hi,” Buck whispers, leaning in to kiss Eddie softly, sweetly. “Happy anniversary.”

If anyone had told Eddie a year ago that this is where he’d end up — happier than he’s ever been with the best man he’s ever met, business going better and better each day, Chris continuing to shine — he’s not sure he would have believed them. He would’ve kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for every good thing to be met with something even worse, for the inevitability of sinking back into the darkness that constantly followed him.

But now, he has Buck and Chris and the rest of their little makeshift family to pull him out and remind him that he gets to keep these good things, that he deserves them. He still has days where that’s hard to believe, where everything goes a little grey, but then he’ll hear Chris’ laugh ring through the shop or see Buck smile, and colors come seeping back in again.

He kisses Buck one more time before stepping back to get a proper look at him. The first word that comes to mind is mouthwatering — dress pants cut just right, dark blue button down making his eyes even brighter. He looks like he just stepped out of a J. Crew catalogue, and it takes every ounce of willpower Eddie can muster to not drag him upstairs right now and forget about their dinner reservations. 

There’s one glaring problem though, and Eddie reaches forward to undo the buttons at Buck’s wrist to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Buck tries to pull away, but Eddie’s grip is firm.

“Eddie, come on, this is a nice place, they won’t even let me in the door if they see all my ink.”

“Well, it’s my anniversary, and I want to see it. If my very Catholic, ‘your body is a temple’ abuela can accept your tattoos, the maître d' at this restaurant can too.”

He gets both sleeves rolled up to Buck’s elbows and takes a minute to admire the ink underneath. They’re all more than familiar now, and he’s spent hours asking Buck about each one, like Chris did when they first met. He likes knowing these things about Buck, the little bits that are so obvious on his arms but have meanings that go much deeper. It’s a privilege, a blessing really, and it’s not something that he’ll ever take for granted.

Buck’s blushing by the time he’s done, and Eddie kisses his nose to get a laugh out of him.

“Okay, okay, go get dressed, we’re gonna be late,” Buck says, shoving Eddie towards the stairs. Eddie does as he’s told, quickly changing and fixing his hair, and he feels himself smile as Buck’s jaw drops when he comes back downstairs.

He knows he looks good — both the lady at the store and Sophia on FaceTime said that maroon was definitely his color — but it’s nice that the main person he’s trying to impress agrees too.

“You look— damn, babe, are you sure we have to go to dinner?” Buck asks, pulling Eddie closer by his belt loops and kissing him deep. 

Eddie lets him, just for a minute, before pulling away, ignoring Buck’s groan as he grabs his hand and pulls him out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner goes by without incident (minus a brief makeout session in the bathroom between courses) and is overall perfect. Eddie is full of food and flushed from wine and swinging his and Buck’s clasped hands back and forth as they walk back to his apartment because he’s so happy he doesn’t know what else to do. The smile Buck shoots his way only makes that happiness grow.

The nerves settle in a bit once they finally get upstairs. “So, I know we didn’t talk about gifts or anything,” he says, pulling Buck towards the couch to sit down. “But I had a vague idea, and Chris wanted to help, and one thing led to another so...I do have something for you.”

Buck looks almost relieved. “Good, because I kinda have something for you too.”

Eddie laughs and rolls his eyes — of course they did this with no planning — before going to his bedroom to grab the gift.

“Close your eyes!” he yells before walking back in. He gently places the gift in Buck’s lap and sits back down beside him.

“Okay, open.”

Buck does and looks down, eyes widening as he does. He traces a finger reverently over the leather cover of the book in front of him, stopping as he gets to the edge of the picture laid in the middle — the two of them and Chris at the beach, matching sunglasses and big smiles. It was their first “family day” after they got together, and the first time Eddie knew, with complete certainty, that this was all he wanted — all he needed — for the rest of his life.

“These are all from the past year,” he says as Buck starts flipping through, like that wasn’t obvious. But he’s nervous and Buck hasn’t said anything so he’s just...riffing. “Even Abuela had some that I didn’t know about. Chris added all the drawings, the ones you two have been working on, and he suggested the pressed flowers because I was teaching him how to press them anyway. It’s mostly jasmine because I know those are your favorite, and they mean ‘sweet love’ so it...fit.” Buck’s still quiet, slowly flipping through the pages. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but—”

“It’s perfect,” Buck says, voice rough. When he finally looks at Eddie, his eyes are shining. “I just can’t believe it’s only been a year and we’ve done all this.”

“There’s blank pages too,” Eddie says, tapping the back of the book. “For when we need them.” Not if we need them, because Eddie doesn’t feel presumptuous in thinking — knowing — that they’ll need those blank pages, and probably a couple thousand more.

Buck smiles and reaches up, cupping Eddie’s cheek. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.” He kisses him once, twice, three times before closing the book and setting it on the coffee table.

“My turn?” Eddie asks. Buck nods and stands up, smile gone and replaced with a nervous grimace. 

“So, first things first, I meant to talk to you about this before it happened,” Buck says. “But then I told Chim and Maddie about it, and they said it would be better as a surprise, and they’re very persuasive when they want to be, and she didn’t have a lot of time last week, so I—”

“Buck,” Eddie says, standing up too. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Buck’s eyes flit back and forth between his for a minute before he nods and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, it’s that kind of present?”

Buck just laughs and rolls his eyes. He finishes unbuttoning and shrugs his shirt off, revealing his bare chest and more tattoos that Eddie’s become intimately familiar with over the past year. He’s traced each of them with his fingers and his tongue, knows their stories, could probably draw them from memory if someone asked him to.

Except one.

It’s healed but still fresh, stark on Buck’s skin compared to some of the older, faded ones. The design is simple but clear, and obviously Maddie’s work: a marigold and a daisy, crossed at the stems, tied together in a perfect bow by a piece of twine. And it’s right over Buck’s heart, in a spot Eddie knows has been reserved for something truly special.

“It’s beautiful,” Eddie says, “but how is it for me?”

“Come on, Eddie, you know what flowers mean better than anyone.”

“Sure, and I know marigolds are for pain and grief and daisies are for innocence. But what does that have to do with us? Unless you mean—” 

He loses his breath a little because it clicks. Tears sting his eyes as he looks up at Buck, because he knows what he thinks it means, what he wants it to mean, but he wants to hear Buck say it too.

Buck smiles, soft and beautiful. “A marigold for an October birthday, like yours, and a daisy for an April birthday, like Chris’. The bow is actually a rose vine for a June birthday.”

“Like yours,” Eddie whispers. 

Buck nods, but he quickly looks nervous again. “I know it’s kind of a lot, and maybe it’s assuming too much, but you guys are it for me. Really, really it. This is the best way I could show you that.”

Eddie reaches a hand up, traces gently over a petal, feels Buck’s heart thumping underneath it. Underneath them. A symbol of their family, so solidly formed that Buck wanted it to be a permanent part of him, woven into the tapestry of the stories he paints on his skin.

Eddie’s at a loss for words — so many big things he wants to say, but they’re all getting tangled in his brain, mixed with the sheer awe that this is even happening. Buck must take it as a bad sign though, because his face falls a bit and he starts looking around the room at anywhere but Eddie.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he says, trying to grab for his shirt on the floor. “Like I said, I should’ve told you first—”

Eddie grabs Buck’s face and pulls him into a searing kiss. He’s getting better with words, with communicating his thoughts and talking through what he’s feeling, but sometimes actions still serve him much better. He does his best to pour the tangle of love and devotion and thoughts of forever into the kiss, and if his enthusiastic response is any indication, Buck seems to pick up on everything just fine.

They come up for air eventually, but Eddie keeps holding on to Buck, his thumbs gently tracing the blush on his cheeks. He just looks, takes this moment in, floored by the fact that even when he thinks things can’t get better, that he’s used up all his good fortune and reached the peak of whatever happiness he’s been allowed, Buck comes in and blows the roof clean off.

“You’re it for us too,” he says softly, earnestly. Buck’s smile is big and bright, and Eddie falls in love all over again.

II. Matching Rings

“You know you’re gonna have to get this redone, like, every year, right?”

Buck shoves Chim’s shoulder, almost knocking the ink out of his hands in the process. “You said you’d give us anything we wanted as a wedding present. And you’re only doing mine, so it’s like half a present. Be grateful we didn’t ask for money, too.”

Chim holds his hands up placatingly and finishes loading his machine. It’s just the three of them on the floor, Maddie in the back office doing something with accounting. The sun is going down, lighting the whole room up with soft, golden light. It hits Buck just right too where he’s laid back in Chimney’s chair, making his skin glow in all the places it peaks out beneath the ink. His hair is soft and loose and his smile is easy, and Eddie feels his heart pick up, like it’s the first time he’s ever seen it.

Eddie can’t believe he has to wait a week to marry this man. He’d do it right here, right now if he could. But it’s only seven days, and today they’re doing something just as permanent, just as lasting as they are.

This wasn’t part of the original plan. Everything else was set for the wedding — the venue, the food, the cake, the suits, everything, except the rings. They’d spent three separate weekends going to stores all around Los Angeles, scouring Etsy shops, talking to designers, and still nothing felt right. Nothing they saw felt true to either of them, as a couple or as individuals, and it was (on top of the general stress of planning a wedding) starting to get to Eddie.

“Screw it,” he’d said after another two hours of searching, closing out of another store’s website. “This is so stupid. The rings are the least important part of this, why is it so hard to find good ones?”

Buck pats his shoulder and sets down a mug of tea in front of him before sitting down next to him. “We could just get cheap ones for the actual wedding and keep looking after. Or skip the rings altogether?”

“No, I still want them,” Eddie said. “I just want them to be special. To be us. We’re going to be wearing them for the rest of our lives, we should like them.”

Buck nodded, tapping the side of his own mug, lost in thought. Eddie tried to search some more, typing every combination of “male wedding ring not ugly” in Google and hoping something stuck, until Buck suddenly grabbed his wrist, his eyes bright.

“What if we do tattoos instead.”

“Ring tattoos? Is that even a thing?” He liked to think he’d absorbed a fair amount of tattoo knowledge in all his years of knowing Buck, but he can’t remember a time anyone ever came into the shop for something like that.

Buck nodded. “They’re more popular than they used to be. And we could design them ourselves. They’ll need touch ups, but what’s more permanent than ink being shoved into a layer of your skin?”

He was right. Tattoos meant a lot to the both of them — what better way to truly bond them for life? Eddie smiled back, kissing Buck’s cheek. “You’re a genius.”

So now, three weeks later, design finalized and on their only free evening for the next seven days, Chim starts up his machine and starts on Buck’s left hand.

It’s a simple design — black, interwoven strands, tied together by each other’s initials on the palm side. To Eddie, the strands look like a ribbon of DNA, which makes perfect sense for how much Buck is a part of him, heart and soul and everywhere else in between. He’s intrinsic to Eddie’s very being at this point, and now everyone else will get to see it too, will know from just a glance that he is happily, permanently, taken.

He feels Buck snake his free hand into his own, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. He looks up, worried, but Buck seems fine, easy smile still on his face, brighter still now that it’s night.

“You okay?”

Buck nods. “Doesn’t hurt. Just like holding your hand.”

Eddie smiles and rolls his eyes, but squeezes his hand back just as gently.

Chim takes his time, meticulous as always, but he’s still done fairly quickly. He wraps Buck’s finger and cleans up his station before heading to the back to find Maddie, yelling “Congrats you two, don’t touch any of my stuff” over his shoulder as he goes. Buck just rolls his eyes before standing — his hand still clasped in Eddie’s — and leading them over to his own station. Eddie gets comfortable in the chair while Buck gets everything ready, and while he tries to take in the shop around him, noting the new artwork and paint job that Maddie just finished last weekend, his eyes always drift back to Buck, hands moving sure and quick as he cleans and fills his machine. Buck finishes up and catches him (though he wasn’t really trying to hide), smiling softly as he sits down in front of Eddie and takes his hand. The machine buzzes to life, and Eddie lets out a hiss as it touches his finger.

“Remember the last time you were here?” Buck asks, eyes trained on his work.

Of course Eddie does — he couldn’t stop staring at Buck that time either, no matter how hard he tried. He also remembers being scared, not of the tattoo, but of his growing feelings for Buck, how they were getting harder and harder to ignore but he still hadn’t felt like he deserved Buck or the pure light and joy he’s made up of. 

Some days he still doesn’t, even after three years together and a week away from getting married. 

But then Buck will come into the shop and launch into a story about a terrible client he just had, or come through the back door and plop down next to Chris to help with homework or an art project, or just look at Eddie with his steady, sure gaze, press a kiss to his cheek, and tell him he loves him like it’s the only thing he knows for certain. And Eddie will remember how well Buck fits into their lives, how easy it is to love him and be loved by him, and those doubts wash away as quickly as they came.

Buck shows him more love every day than any person should be capable of showing. Eddie can’t wait to spend the rest of his life giving it right back.

“Done!” Buck says. Eddie looks down at his hand and feels a beautiful warmth spread through him that threatens to bubble over in a laugh or tears or maybe both. Buck’s smiling too as he wraps Eddie’s finger and places a gentle kiss to the knuckle right below the ink, the promises of forever they’ve made to each other now permanent on them for the whole world to see

“So, a touch up every year huh?” Eddie asks as they leave the shop and head back to the apartment. Buck throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, pulling him closer as the cool night breeze whirls around them.

“Think of it like a permanently scheduled vow renewal,” Buck says, and Eddie does, his mind suddenly fast forwarding to see them 10, 20, 30 years down the line, renewing their commitment to each other year after year within the now sacred walls of Armageddon, older and greyer but still just in love as they are right now, if not more. It makes Eddie feel that warmth all over again, coursing through him until a laugh does bubble out of him as he presses a kiss under Buck’s jaw. He stops them walking and pulls Buck closer, kissing him for real — slowly, thoroughly, tangling their hands together and gently tracing over Buck’s ring finger, excited beyond words for the start of the rest of their lives together.

III. Ursa Major and Minor

Chris is being weird.

Which isn’t actually unusual — he’s almost 18, and teenagers are always a little weird about certain things. Eddie’s still not allowed to look in the bottom drawer of Chris’ nightstand, and at this point, he probably doesn’t want to.

But still. He’s being weird. And for that matter, so is Buck.

He can tell they’re hiding something — it feels like every time he comes into the back room, they’re huddled over the table, whispering about something. He tried to look over Chris’ shoulder once to see what he was scribbling in a notebook, but Buck had yanked it away and sat on it before Eddie could get too close. Whenever he tries to ask what’s going on, they just smile at him, the picture of innocence, and start talking about schoolwork or graduation or anything else until Eddie finally moves on.

And he loves it, really, that Chris and Buck have their own little thing at the moment, something that’s just for them. But he’d also really like to know what the hell is going on.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, answering emails about orders after dinner, when Buck and Chris walk in. Buck has that mischievous, self-satisfied glint in his eye that always raises Eddie’s blood pressure a few points, but Chris looks nervous. He’s fidgeting with the notebook in his hands and has the same wide-eyed look he had when he opened every one of his college acceptance letters. 

Eddie shuts his laptop and pushes it to the side. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Chris just has a question for you.” Buck nudges him gently with his elbow before sitting down at the table. Chris follows suit, taking the seat across for Eddie, looking nervous still but more determined. He takes a deep breath and finally looks Eddie in the eye.

“So,” he starts. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

Eddie nods. “Same day every year.”

Buck snorts and Chris rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Dad. And I know we already have plans, but I wanted to add one more thing for us to do.”

“Sure, buddy. What did you have in mind?”

Chris takes another deep breath and answers quickly on the exhale so it comes out like Iwannageddatattoo. Eddie tilts his head and leans forward. “Come again?”

Another breath. “I want to get a tattoo. Tomorrow. For my birthday.” He flips through the notebook in front of him, landing on a page and sliding it towards Eddie. There’s things scratched out all over the page but the final design is clearly circled — the Big and Little Dippers, each point made of small, hand-drawn asterisks and connected by even lines of dots. It’s clean, simple, and Eddie thinks it looks beautiful (though mostly because Chris put a lot of effort into putting it together).

“They look great, Chris,” he says, “and you technically won’t need my permission to get it tomorrow, but I’m sure I can sway someone at Armageddon to get you an appointment.” 

Buck smiles and nods. “Already on the schedule. But there’s something else Chris wanted to ask.” He looks pointedly at Chris, who rolls his eyes again and nods.

“So I want to get this one,” he says, reaching across the table and pointing at the Little Dipper. “And I thought, if you want— you don’t have to, but—” he moves his hand to the Big Dipper. “I was wondering if you would get this one with me?”

Eddie could cry. He very well might with how fast he feels his eyes welling up. He and Chris have always been close — something he’s been thankful for every day of his son’s teenage years — but this is something else entirely. He got his first tattoo out of spite towards his parents, and now Chris wants to get one with him?

He’s quiet for too long, because Chris looks even more nervous. He clears his throat and reaches across the table to take Chris’ hand in his. “I’d love to. If you’re sure. This is a pretty permanent decision.”

Chris smiles. “They’re our stars. I want us to get them together.”

Now Eddie’s definitely going to cry. He remembers summer nights in El Paso after Shannon had left — when neither of them could sleep, so they snuggled in the hammock in their backyard instead and stared up at the stars. He didn’t know many constellations, but there were two that he could always find.

“They look like spoons,” Chris had said once, still small enough to fit snuggly to Eddie’s side. 

“They do,” Eddie said. “But they’re not just spoons, they’re part of bigger pictures — Ursa Major and Minor, Big Bear and Little Bear.”

“Like a dad and a baby?” Chris asked. Eddie’s heart clenched — because he’d burrowed impossibly closer when he asked that, because he hadn’t asked about a mom, because he loves this kid so much he’d grab every star in the sky for him if he wanted them — and he ran his fingers through soft curls, trying to stay in the moment for as long as he can.

“That’s right,” he said, voice rougher than he wanted. “They’re always together, always protecting each other. Just like you and me.”

“Forever?” Chris asked as he placed his hand in Eddie’s.

Eddie swallowed, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris’ head and clasping their hands together. “Forever and ever.”

He meant it — he still means it — but the fact that Chris kept that promise with him too all these years, turned it into something precious, something worth immortalizing, it makes Eddie wish he could go back in time and tell his younger self that everything would be fine. That whatever doubts he had swirling in his head while laying in that hammock were for nothing — that he was and is a good father, who raised the best kid in the world to be full of joy and happiness and love, just like he promised himself he would the minute Chris was born.

He laughs as he feels tears fall for real, and Chris laughs wetly too, coming over to him and hugging him tight around the neck. Eddie holds on just as hard, reaching down to grasp Buck’s hand too when he feels him squeeze his knee.

He hopes those lucky stars are listening when he sends up a thank you for giving him this family.

“I love you, Dad,” Chris says.

Eddie untangles them enough to take Chris’ face in his hands, get a good look at his son — his beautiful, perfect boy, who’s becoming a better man than Eddie could’ve ever hoped for.

“I love you too, kid. Forever and ever.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Chris goes first the next day, brave face on until Buck starts up the machine and brings it to the inside of his bicep.

He grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes hard. Eddie doesn’t let it go.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #the flower shop #ficcery #it's finally a series!! #HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELI ILYSM I COULD CRY

[mxchowind]

Words Unspoken

Xiao x reader

Warnings: angst/fluff???

This is my second fic! I decided to go with xiao because he really appeals to me as of late and so baby too- ;; i changed up the reason to why he’s fond of almond tofu too for the content- anyways i hope i didnt write him too ooc- if i did, i apologise deeply,, enjoy!

He had known. 

Mortals were nothing but lights that faded away with the time’s span. He knew, of course. The ‘Mighty’ and ‘Illuminated’ Guardian Yaksha, names given to him that don’t mean a mere mora.

To him, you meant the most. Though the man would never admit himself, or did he?

Time erased pain.

But never had it healed his scars. What a lie it has been. 

Xiao hid, from all that seeked. From all of the memories of you. To think, he was such a dense, foolish idiot- an idiot who loved you. And still do, he’d like to believe. 

-

Of course- out of all, tonight’s wind blows gently. He dislikes it, the tranquillity all resembles you too much. The gentle-living spirit you were- once. Upon his very wish Xiao finds himself asking, begging for you to come back.

But a replacement? He never asked.

Lumine’s arrival sure had people in favour, and people starts to dot and comment on how similar you and her are. Both spirits of freedom and love, supposedly that is said. He didn’t like that.

You were, and still are special, even if that no longer lingered in anyone else.

The ever so radiant smile of yours could warm any cold heart up, that, he has experienced first-hand. A dangerous adepti, they say? None of that was him in your mind. The time you two had spent together, under countless stars beneath the vast expand of skies, were always cherished by both. His eyes soften at the very thought of you- though sorrows come right after. 

Lumine is a different case, however.

All the times she tried to please him to get information- it’s different. The aura she gives off is nothing subtle as yours, and warm too. Your scent is much more pleasant to him, or perhaps just the thought of you brings a slight smile to his stone-cold face. Xiao could go on and on about you to anyone, really, but he won’t.

It pains him to think back to that eventful night-

When all was lost.

-

You had lived long enough to withstand- let alone, battles. But this one was quite the fate-changer. The one that left you in blood and tears, not your own but his. That desperate look on his delicate face- by Archons, Xiao has such pretty features you’d wonder he should like to be working in a tavern for the girls. 

All jokes aside, regret fuelled.

Of course, once again you decided to leave his field of vision, dealing with the terror of a creature on your own. Not that he disapproves, you were outright a swordswoman, gifted with the blessings of Anemo, like his own. Dealing with such small amounts wouldn’t be an issue normally, as you often received commissions. Only if you had known..

..when the reinforcements came.

-

‘‘Hey!! Are you even paying attention??’’

The small pixie screams in his ears, wincing in pain from the high-pitched voice she possesses. Expression stonic, the ravenette decides to ignore her fully. What was that? Flashbacks of what seemed to be thousands of years ago-

Then Xiao suddenly realises. It was when he lost you. 

Pain, pain, pain. Kill them, kill everyone.

Thoughts racing through his mind- it takes a while, and enormous strength to resist, before his eyes land on her. Lumine. 

‘‘What do you want? I don’t have time to spare for foreign travellers.’’ 

As cold as he blurts those words out, he means it. No, he cannot withstand the sight of them for any longer- the memories flooding back to his mind, no matter how much he tries to push away. It hurts, he wants someone to cling onto, and he knows, the only one to do it would be you.

‘‘We’re not looking for trouble! The boss lady said you know something about what is happening recently- we brought this!’’ Lumine chirps, handing him the freshly made Almond Tofu.

No, please. No. 

-

It was a breezy afternoon, the wind blowing past your hair gently, directing your way to him. Recently you discovered this new recipe- and couldn’t wait for him to try it out. As you hummed a tune, ever so lively, filled with life, Xiao waited for you patiently. You two were often sighted together on the top of Wangshu Inn, and you were said to be the only one who would make the Adepti smile, even if it was a little. It was true, your smile could brighten anyone’s day up, even the dangerous man. 

‘‘Xiao! Look!’’

‘‘Calm yourself first.’’

You gave an apologetic smile, before the brand new dish got shoved into his face. At first, he looked away- what new recipe might you have stirred this time? But the scent of said food filled his mind as you picked up the spoon, scooping some.

‘‘Have a try!’’

‘‘.. I have hands, too.’’

In all reality, he was embarrassed. Without a further thought he picked up from where you left off, and swallowed the tofu whole. It tasted- gentle. Almost as if you poured your heart into making such a dish. Its almond flavoured taste lingered on his tongue for a while more, before eagerly scooping another spoonful. 

You smiled. His facade was worn off, and Xiao right then was just Xiao. His duties forgotten, his raging heart calmed, and he was just Xiao, someone who longed for more and more time to be with you, and to have more of this delicious plate too. 

Your laugh echoed in his mind.

That was when he chose Almond Tofu over every other dish. It was because of you. Only if time allowed you two to dance in everlasting joy. 

It didn’t.

-

‘‘Stop spacing out!!!!’’

This annoying pest, the ravenette curses without fear. As Xiao turns his gaze finally back on track, he realises that you’ve been on his mind more than ever today. Why is that? Is it because he can’t stand people comparing you with Lumine- 

Never. You can never be compared with her. You’re- far more- dear.

‘‘So, Xiao, what would you do about this situation right now? The Moon Carver sent me.’’

Instead of being content to help, he turns his eyes away. 

‘‘I am no longer interested in being in contact with mortals. Go.’’

Any other day Xiao would give a gratified reply, but not today. You’re simply occupying his mind too much, perhaps this is it. He still wants to remember- 

Go away. Go away. Please.

Stop, stop it. Stop coming back. 

‘‘Geez, what a let-down!! Let’s go for now, Lumine,’’ At least that little thing knows what not. They took their leave in silence,

Just like you did. 

-

It rained.

It rained, as if the whole world cried. 

With blurred vision, monsters easily took you down no matter how much effort was made to struggle. That, he knows.

He wasn’t strong enough to protect you. He failed. 

Let alone, you were the last person he wanted to lose. 

Blood, blood, blood.

Blood everywhere. Blood coated you. Recalling, when Xiao turned around to see such a sight- his eyes widened in shock-

Don’t leave, please.

At least not yet, not when he didn’t make clear of his feelings-

But time was not his to command. 

His eyes, wet and stained with rain or tears, you do not know. The pain pierced through you like arrows, it hurts, but none is able to save you. The gash is too big, and deep too.

His hands. The ravenette’s hands are so gentle even under the harsh gloves. Carefully, he lifted you up from the ground, and it was him who spoke first. 

‘‘Don’t go, it’s a command.’’

You chuckled lightly before the voice faded into weak whimpers. His own voice was shaking, it pulled your heartstrings. 

‘‘You- you’re not even smiling, Xiao. Come on, at least give me a smile- whether it’s the last time i would see it..’’

How could he decline such a request?

Smiling was harder than supposed. 

Gathering all that was left in him- a smile formed. It was genuine. Something no one but you had seen- that was enough for you. To be the luckiest person to see his smile. It hurts. You wanted to see more, maybe you two would have a future together, and smile, always, then he could learn how to make Almond Tofu and take care of himself and-

Too much to wish for.

‘‘Xiao-’’

He silenced you. With his lips.

Had he known it was the first, and the last, you indulged yourself fully, sinking deeper into the sweet, airy kiss. The taste of metallic was awful, but what was even more- you didn’t know if he was crying, or just the rain.

‘‘You know.. I love you, Xiao.’’

So that was the word. 

Love. 

To think, how foolish he was- in love with a mortal. 

But he was, and nothing could change that. He loved you.

‘‘Don’t go, then. Don’t go.’’

His voice laced with desperation- he begged to the Archons, to someone, to save you. No one would, he knew. Before he knew, you went, quietly. 

You were gone.

Rage filled him. Putting on the mask he could feel power surging through every part of him- destruction. 

Kill, kill, kill.

The rest of the monsters advanced, but only ended in a bloodbath as he unleashed himself. That village was never heard of again in history. 

Throwing the mask away, Xiao leaned down, back to you.

‘‘I love you too, [Y/n].’’

#genshin impact xiao x reader #xiao x reader genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact

[cyclogenesis]

director's commentary for 'got a feeling that i'm going under' - especially the relationship bucky has with sam's family, and the scene with sam getting hurt.

Oh man, Got a feeling that I'm going under, the fic into which I put every single emotion I ever had. The idea came from the most fantastically random source - many years ago while chatficcing porn with a friend we were writing a 5SOS Harry Potter AU (yes, I deeply miss having someone to chatfic out my worst id garbage with) and I wrote a bit where I used the phrase "like being split open in reverse" about magical wound-healing. The image always stuck with me, and one evening I was thinking about Bucky Barnes, and what his whole fucking deal is, and the idea for the first scene popped into my head. The accelerated healing factor of super soldiers is so interesting to me, and we've seen so little about it - but like with any injury, it helps a hell of a lot if you set the bone/close the wound/etc. first.

I'm always interested in how Bucky went from sniper twink to the guy pitching himself off a motorcycle headfirst at another super soldier; that dude has gotten reckless as hell with his body! So he for sure gets hurt a lot, and I doubt that he was tended to with much care when he was the Winter Soldier, so I imagine he's gotten used to seeing to his own injuries while in the field, probably to the point of feeling awkward about someone else checking on him now. Thus: Local Man, 106, Really Trying to Go to Bed Still Bleeding, Realizes Horrified Partner.

I started writing it sometime after episode 3 or 4 (taking it on faith that the show was gonna have a HEA), initially because the other thing I was working on was taking too long to get to the porn, so I thought I'd write a one scene 4k or so little thing where Sam tends to Bucky's wounds, and they're tucked close in a motel bathroom and, you know, then they fuck, good for them. But then I was really enjoying the tension of that scene, and then I thought about artistically carved magical wounds, and things escalated.

Honestly, my usual approach to any fic is "write enough story to earn the sex scene", so that's sort of what I was doing, but in the way where I kept complaining to my friends that I was trying to get to the porn, but I just kept writing all these feelings. (I think at this point, with this pairing at least, I have to admit that I also always want to write enough story to make it clear that even if they don't say so in the fic, they are absolutely in love with each other.)

I was really struggling with how to finish out the first kiss scene, because I really wanted to get to the porn, but it was just kind of a logistical pickle. It took awhile to occur to me that I didn't have to write about the first time they have sex, which was mind-blowing as that's almost always what I write. Once I realized that, I also realized that (at this point, after the high of the show's ending) I desperately wanted to write a little established relationship for them.

So a kitchen injury to continue the theme was kind of a gimme, and having Bucky cooking dinner at Sam and Sarah's felt like it went right along with how clearly Bucky is part of their family now per ep 6, and would thus be comfortable enough there after awhile to cook in their kitchen (though he still wants to do a good job!). Plus the kids clearly adore him, and I think AJ's still at the age where he'd openly be more dazzled by Bucky and thus eager to help him do whatever. Indulge me in breaking down the following bit, because it's one of my favorite parts:

“I’m fine,” Bucky says again, looking at the stove as if it might betray him and his carefully constructed soup if he gets out of its sightline. “It just needs to simmer for five more minutes.” (Still trying to refuse help, but he'll get there, bless him! Also though he's put a lot of effort into becoming a good cook, he still doesn't entirely trust recipes and gets a little nervous when four other people are depending on him to be fed.)

Sarah, having already assessed the scene and identified what needs to be done, retrieves a wooden spoon from the drawer and pokes Bucky with it. “I got it, go.” (I love the mental image of the wooden spoon poke. Like first of all yes, jab the man, but also it shows quickly that in Sarah's mind at this point Bucky is basically her brother-in-law. 😭!!)

“The salad is looking good,” AJ reports to everyone. (Children are small insane people that still require attention and validation even when someone else is literally bleeding! Love that for them, sincerely.)

“It’s gonna be a great salad, buddy!” Bucky says to him over his shoulder as Sam directs him to the first floor bathroom. (But like, Bucky is so good with kids. He's happy to validate AJ and appreciates his help! He wants to help AJ grow up to be a good man and men these days have to know how to cook! 🥺)

Bucky is out here and he's ready to be a Barnes-Wilson (or a Wilson-Barnes. Or a Wilson. He's flexible)!!

And now the last scene, man, the last scene. Like the rest of this fic, it was absolutely not planned ahead of time in any reasonable way. Let me be super honest here: I ran across a Tumblr post that was basically like "fics where Sam takes care of Bucky are stupid garbage and so are the people who write them" (loosely paraphrased) and I was like OH FUCK this fic is thematically wrong and I Am The Problem, and after brooding about that for probably longer than I should have I realized, relatedly and fortunately, that the only way it made sense to end this fic was to flip the theme on its head and have Sam get injured and Bucky have to look after him. And how Bucky would freak out and become immediately invested in doing everything he can to make sure he can take care of Sam in every way forever. From there I sat down and wrote out the last scene pretty quickly!

I always get the most nervous about endings, so I'm really glad people enjoyed this one. I was pretty in my feelings after posting this fic, considering that I hadn't written a story since 2018, it was my first one for this pairing, it's a real stylistic switch from my past uh few decades of work, I hadn't written for a media fandom with a ton of canon in one thousand years, the central theme was magical wound-healing (?!), etc. The response to it was an extremely pleasant surprise and something I'm still grappling with as I've continued to write in this fandom. I hope someday I can write something else that connects with people the way this one did!

#1000-directions #asks #holy fuck i wrote an awful lot about this fic hahaha ha ha #thank you for asking!!

[strayfreckles]

all on you.

☕︎︎ hwang hyunjin x reader (ft. ryujin, felix, & yeji); highschool au, friends-to-lovers au, barista au, bulletpoint fic.

maybe you would’ve gotten out of highschool with your emotions (and pride) unscathed if it weren’t for hwang hyunjin and his so-called romantic, obnoxious—and, in your case, unfortunately effective—antics.

includes: fluff, angst (especially in the middle), mutual pining, somewhat slow burn (?), gn!reader, barista!reader, a hefty amount of swearing, the only consistent thing you’ll see here is how utterly terrible this is, fluctuating humor

notes: this was requested by a wonderful anon! before you dive in, i’d like to inform you that this is my first fic of any kind, so please tread gently 😔✋ though constructive criticism is appreciated !! hope you enjoy (and hopefully not cringe too much sdkdnkdks) <33

wordcount: 2.8k

let me be the first to say that you absolutely abhor romance films with every existing fiber and cell in your body.

like, you cannot physically withstand the atrocity that is occurring right before your very eyes and you have to tear your gaze away before you bash your head to the nearest table.

and though you do admit that you’re overreacting sometimes

you also admit that you’re a massive dumbass for falling prey to one of the most common—and one of the most infuriating tropes—that is falling for your best friend.

yeah, hwang hyunjin? that boy holds your heart between his palms and with every smile you fall deeper and deeper

you’ve known that kid since you started eating crayons in elementary, and since then you’d been attached at the hip, clung to each other through all the clownery of middle school

finding each other in places is like a sixth sense; it only takes you both less than a minute to find the other before startling them with a quiet “hey, you”

but time is impatient, and that timid, starry-eyed boy you knew became the dimpled heartthrob come highschool—geared with the smarts and the talents and love-laced words that sent boys and girls running after him

but to you he was always just that kid who nearly consumed clay cakes because “it looked so real!”

until he wasn’t

it just came to you like a blow to the face, in the middle of sophomore year, sitting on hyunjin’s bedroom floor on a weekend trying to cram revise for your upcoming exams

you decided to take a quick break, and made the mistake of looking at hyunjin

and my oh my was he stunning

every laugh that tumbled from his lips sounded like a fucking symphony

and the bastard was just playing with kkami !!

he looked so damn soft as he planted kisses on his coat

every single constellation you knew was embedded in his irises

haha heartbeat go brrrrrrr

and maybe all you wanted was for him to never stop smiling, because he looked the most beautiful when he did, and maybe you wanted to brush his hair away from his face because you couldn’t see his eyes all that well and what the fuck—

you just malfunctioned

because that was your best friend

he noticed you staring, of course, and had the audacity to smirk, and in a second you wanted to set yourself on fire

“y/n, i know i look good, but at least try to be subtle.”

“you look like a low-budget minion, hyunjin.”

“i’d rather be a minion than a shabbier version of gru, thank you.”

(many fists were thrown that day, and hyunjin learned not to pick fun at your clothing lest that he face humiliation)

for the first few months you were in constant denial, even going so far as to blame hyunjin himself for forcing you to watch countless romcoms on your weekly sleepovers

but once you catch hyunjin staring at you with that fond look in his eyes, one he’s carried since childhood, your heart finally has the courage to murmur into the concaves of your chest, i am in love

it gets worse around senior year

the summer after junior year you land yourself a job at miroh café, a coffee shop at the heart of the town bc you’re broke as fuck and you need the cash

and, as expected, hyunjin becomes a frequent patron

he’s armed with a pickup line every single time he orders

and every single time you have to tell your heart to calm the fuck down he’s always been like this c’mon gimme a break

it’s even gone to the point where the regulars mistake him as your boyfriend

and as if your conscience nagging you 24/7 wasn’t enough mental baggage, your coworkers and fellow seniors, felix and ryujin, decided to weigh in

“if that isn’t the look of someone who’s simping over you then i don’t know what is,” ryujin nudges you, and from the repetitive force you’ve sustained from the past week you’re surprised your ribs aren’t bruised yet.

“you act like you’re not in the same dance crew,” you scoff, “ryujin, he flirts with everyone—he even had the balls to hit on chan!”

“let me remind you that denial is always the first stage of falling in love,” felix chirps, cheerful as he replenishes the pain au chocolat in the display.

“and let me remind you that i’m holding a very hot cup of coffee straight out of the machine; ‘accidents’ can happen, felix.”

of course, you weren’t in denial—you’d been past that stage long ago

it’s just that you didn’t wanna give yourself false hope

you didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing with him that’s lasted for nearly a decade because of your stupid emotions

so you’ve trained yourself to remain indifferent to the many compliments and lines he sent your way, hoping that if you could fool the others into thinking he didn’t affect you, maybe you could fool yourself, too

but oh ho ho, do i have some news for you (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

you don’t know how hyunjin’s pulse speeds up whenever he sees a handwritten note on his coffee wishing him good luck

you don’t know how often he forces himself to stop staring at you whenever you’re not looking

you don’t know how stupidly happy it makes him when he sees you smile

especially when he’s the reason why.

maybe everything about you makes hwang hyunjin happy

and maybe if you weren’t so kind and gentle and considerate during the times he lost a competition then maybe he wouldn’t have fallen this hard

but you were (and still are)

during the times you cried from laughter at all his antics

or cracked a smile at one of his pickup lines

he’d think that maybe—just maybe—he could stand a chance

but every time he did, he’d spiral into self-doubt

because there’s no way you would ever fall for him

you’re the kindest, most talented person hyunjin has ever known who deserves the universe

and he’s just… him

even if he did plan to confess, he’d be putting everything at stake; you’re too important to him, losing you would be a loss too heavy for him to bear

so he’s content with playing this role

even if the idea of you being with someone else hurts him so much

he’s content with reminding you everyday—even if it isn’t direct—that your mind is like no other, and that anybody would be blessed to have you

you both think it's always going to be like this

with you struggling to keep your feelings from showing

and hyunjin battling his inner demons

and those left to perceive the “discreet” ogling across the room and the hidden yearning in your voices are none other than (you guessed it!) felix and ryujin 🤩

it was funny the first few months

but now it’s just plain frustrating and they want nothing more than to bash your two oblivious heads together because y’all !! are !! idiots !!

no matter how much they persist, they’re always met with either a sad, gentle smile with a shake of the head or a monotonous “ha. you’re really funny.”

both have considered dropping your asses but they can’t because they love y’all too much

so all they can do is hope for a change

and change does indeed arrive when september rolls around

dance practice has just ended and hyunjin feels hyped because it’s movie night and he can’t wait to cry to kimi no na wa again

and lowkey stare at you for the entirety of the film

he exits his dance crew’s studio and is about to go straight to 7/11 for snacks when he spots the team’s newest recruit by the road, waiting for a ride home

hwang yeji’s only moved here two months ago and in a short span of time she’s already become one of the well-liked kids at school

but she’s a kind & humble sweetheart who deserves all the love & attention !!

so being the good sport he is, hyunjin approaches yeji with the brightest grin, having only talked to her a few times prior

“hey, there! yeji!” when the girl turns to him, her smile looks and feels like liquid sunshine. “waiting for your date?”

yeji turns rosy when he asks, like she does when everyone teases her about her special someone, who she’s been crushing on for weeks and who she finally had the courage to ask out. “c’mon, stop that. i don’t even know if they like me like that—they probably think it’s just another friendly date.”

“they’re a fool if they don’t end up liking you after, then,” hyunjin quips, hoping the bitterness doesn’t seep into his tone and wishing he has half the luck and strength yeji has, and she laughs.

“you know them, actually.”

“oh?”

“yeah! y/n l/n?”

oh.

o h

hyunjin can only blink at her dumbly, feeling like a thousand arrows are digging into his skin

you… with hwang yeji?

is that why you asked about her the other day? because you like her back? and that her feelings are far from being one-sided?

watching a dark cloud loom over his features, yeji thinks about asking if he’s okay when he blurts out an inaudible excuse as he walks away, zooming past the convenience store when he does

when he heads off he doesn’t even look at where he’s going, relying solely on muscle memory

he feels like he wants to grow smaller, biting his lower lip and clenching his hands into fists

he doesn’t even know why he’s upset

you were never his to lose

why would he regret what couldn’t be in the first place?

when his feet instinctively halt in front of miroh café, all he can do is stare blankly at the glass doors, at your figure behind the counter

but he wills himself to move away again, and when he does he clashes with another body

“hey, watch where you’re... hyunjin?”

ryujin stares at him with her mouth half agape, and she flinches when she sees his eyes glistening, his face flushed with the shade of pure heartbreak

“did you know about them?” he’s afraid to raise his voice, because doing so would mean there’s no stopping his emotions, “about… y/n and yeji?”

the lack of response provides the answer, and hyunjin walks away from the block

that afternoon, a cup of coffee with his name scrawled on the front went forgotten on the countertop

that evening, hyunjin doesn’t show for your monthly tradition for the first time in five years

you spend the rest of your evening obsessively checking your phone for text from him, wracking your brain for reasons he couldn’t come

of course, there are multiple reasons: like schoolwork (you are seniors, after all) and the upcoming dance competition

but you know he would text you over the slightest inconvenience, so why isn’t he saying a thing?

you rack your brain for anything you might’ve done, and your chest tightens when you think that maybe—just maybe—he’s finally caught on to you

you try to distract yourself with other thoughts as you lie wide awake in your bed: like your midterm exams, the nearing debate tournament… your date with yeji

bright, splendid hwang yeji who shares the wittiest jokes in biology and has the most colorful personality around

the first time you spent time with her she made you smile so wide it made your cheeks hurt

her laugh is the loveliest one you’ve ever heard; like dewy lavender fields beneath the spring sunshine

but every time you hear it you’re reminded that it isn’t hyunjin’s laugh, that you aren’t with him and every time you realize it you wanna cry

bc yeji’s been nothing but sweet and considerate this whole time and you’re more than guilty at the fact that all her attentions will be wasted because of you and your stupidity

you barely escape the wrath of crying yourself to sleep when you finally doze off when the clock hit two am

the next day at school, you both barely even make eye-contact

even the underclassmen who’ve heard the frequent calls of your names feel uneasy when they don’t hear hyunjin’s high-pitched voice or your shrill tones

felix especially, who’s experienced the trauma of sitting in between you two at history and feeling the tension that nearly chokes him

you’re more than terrified to look at him at him in the eye, terrified that once you do you’ll realize he doesn’t gaze at you the same way anymore

something inside hyunjin aches every time he spares you a glance, because every time he does it’s painfully obvious that he’s always been hopeless

in all honesty, hyunjin wouldn’t have shown his face at all if it weren’t for the tiny thread of patience inside ryujin snapping

so here he is, inside miroh a quarter before closing time

felix’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees him, so he sends a pointed look to his coworker,

“what did you do?” he murmurs. ryujin’s eyes are sharp when she looks at him, and he feels his blood run cold.

“what i needed to.”

no, she didn’t threaten to kill his entire family, if that’s what you’re wondering

she merely gave him… a warning

so one can imagine the surprise you feel when you emerge from the staff room, and felix drags ryujin outside to give you privacy

you both remain silent once they’re gone, neither one of you moving in place

until quiet words escape your mouth, and the familiar greeting makes hyunjin’s heart clench:

“hey, you.”

he doesn’t make a sound, so you continue, the tension heavy

“you owe me three dollars, by the way. i just wasted a perfectly good iced latte with the other day when you didn’t…”

when you trail off, hyunjin opens his mouth to let out an apology, and he realizes with a start that the words tumbling out are completely different:

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“what?”

“why didn’t you tell me about yeji?” hyunjin’s eyes begin to quiver when they meet yours, “we’re best friends, aren’t we?”

your jaw tightens, i told you. best friends. nothing more. “because you worry too much about everything; if i’d told you about us then you’d—”

“y/n, we’ve been together for a decade!” hyunjin intervenes, “we’re always going to worry about each other, whether you like it or not. and this— this is… i…”

every coherent thought vanishes as hyunjin grapples for more things to say. he knows he’s being selfish, undoubtedly so, but he wants you. he wants you so, so bad. the fight in him leaves until, eventually, all that’s left to say is the truth: “please, don’t go. don’t go… with her.”

your heart is close to breaking your ribcage when you stare at his face, you wait for him to say anything, to justify why he’s said it, but when the quiet settles, all you can see is red

“this is why i don’t tell you about these things,” you grit, trembling violently. “when i do, you say— say stuff that make me believe that you feel the same way i do when you actually don’t.

“and i hate you so much but in the end it’s all my fault because i’m the idiot who caught feelings for their best friend and—”

hyunjin doesn’t let you add anything else, because his lips are on yours and you’re overwhelmed with the feeling of him, him, him

the kiss doesn’t leave any room for doubt; he’s shaking, and his legs might give out, but he wants you to know that everything he feels is real

you’re both gasping for air when you pull away, but his hands still linger on your face and he traces the edge of your mouth, and you can do nothing but pull him closer by the waist

“still hate me now?” he asks, and you chuckle breathlessly, putting your forehead on his.

“yes, very much so,” you look at him tenderly, and he yelps when you pinch him gently, “this is all on you, y’know. if it weren’t for your godforsaken romcoms, we wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

“but if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have ended up with a boyfriend, amirite? ow, shit— i’m kidding!”

bonus!

“oh, thank fuck,” felix exhales, looking through the windows one more time before ambling beside ryujin, who looks pleased with herself as she places her apron on the crook of her elbow. “so, spill: what did you tell hyunjin?”

she smiles, “i told him not to give up before he’s even tried anything; sometimes, there are people who are worth taking that risk for.”

just as felix is about to commend her for sounding the most wholesome he’s heard her, she adds: “and i threatened to revoke my tutelage—his ass is failing calculus so hard.”

#inkidz #skz #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids au #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #hwang hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin scenarios #stray kids oneshot #just when i thought i couldn’t get more inadequate i hit y’all with a bulletpoint fic 🤩 #but pls let me know what you think of this! i’d be happy to read your thoughts !!

[even-after-a-millennia]

the water will not claim me (she already has)

Andromaquynh fic about them and water throughout the years.  Huge thanks for 1k followers!

Read below or on ao3 here.

 I.

Water was hard to come by in the desert, but Andromache couldn’t let the woman she had found die from dehydration again.  Tilting her head back, she gave her the last bit of water from her waterskin.  Andromache watched as the woman swallowed weakly, eyes fluttering.  

Standing, Andromache grabbed one of her arms and hefted her over her shoulders.  She felt the woman’s weak exhalation of breath against her arm.  

And she walked.

Step after step, she moved closer to her destination.  On the way to finding this woman, unable to resist the despair she felt from her every time Andromache dreamt, she had found a small green area a day’s walk away.  With the added weight on her back, it took two mind-numbing, grueling days to return.  

Andromache kept moving, even as she felt the woman waste away on her back.  It would do no good to stop and check on her.  What could she do to help now?

She kept walking.

Finally, they arrived.  Andromache laid the woman gently propped up against a rock, then went to refill her waterskin.  The woman didn’t wake as she returned.

“Hey,” Andromache said, shaking her shoulder lightly.  No response.  Putting some water into her hand, Andromache brought it to the woman’s lips.  They parted, taking in the drink.  

Dark eyes drifted slightly open, unseeing.  Undeterred, Andromache lifted the waterskin to her lips and tilted it, letting the water dribble in.

The woman coughed, eyes coming alive as she realized what was happening.  She lifted an arm to reach for the skin, but Andromache easily batted it away.

“Slowly, slowly,” Andromache encouraged.  

Her voice must have cut through the haze of the woman’s mind, as she looked up at Andromache.

Their eyes met and Andromache felt the loneliness that she had worn as a shroud for centuries fall away as they gazed at each other.

II.

After the battle, they were all covered in filth and sweat.  Lykon was the only one of them that hadn’t suffered a fatal blow at some point and he loudly complained about their stench, laughter in his eyes.  They were all so used to one another that it was nothing to all undress and climb into the gentle river they found together.

“I will look for a meal,” Lykon said, clean long before either of them.

“Thank you, brother,” Andromache replied, taking a moment to just float in the slow movement of the water.

“I expect to see you for food before sundown!  Do not get so distracted you disappoint me!” he called as he walked away.  Andromache may have taken him more seriously if laughter hadn’t rang through his voice.

“Yes, yes, we promise…”

As soon as he was out of sight, Quynh pushed through the water towards Andromache, who turned instinctively to receive an armful of her love.

“Do you think we will actually get back for the meal?” Quynh asked.

“If not,” Andromache said, pushing Quynh’s long, wet hair away from her face, “we are lucky Lykon is more forgiving than we deserve.”

III.

The fact that Cairo’s public baths were divided for females and males was not a deterrence to Andromache’s little band of immortals.  In fact, it was somewhat of a blessing.  Despite loving each other for over three hundred years now, Yusuf and Nicoló still acted as if they had just wed yesterday.  

After they parted at the entrance, Andromache turned to Quynh and asked, “We were never so caught up in each other, were we?”

Quynh smiled, but her eyes were sad.  Andromache knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth, as she knew who brought that look to her love’s face.

“I think Lykon would disagree with you, trái tim,” she replied.

Andromache scoffed, but moved to hold Quynh’s hand only to have their hands meet halfway.  They looked down, considered their intertwined fingers, then burst out laughing.

“Very well, I am bested.  We are just as bad,” Andromache said, pulling Quynh further into the bath.

IV.

England was dreary.  There was no other word for it.  Clouds hung above them with weak sunlight poking through.  It drizzled most days without end.  And people were dying of false accusations of witchcraft.

Their tiny house in the woods was their only sanctuary from the madness of the world around them.  Every day, they tried to help those they could.  And every night, they retreated back to their small one room with walls and a roof and collapsed together, soaked through and exhausted.

In the middle of the night, Quynh shook Andromache awake.

“What?  What is it?” Andromache demanded, instantly awake and weapon in hand.

“It is finally really raining, ánh nắng của tôi.  It is like a monsoon out there,” Quynh said, looking outside with a soft smile gracing her lips.

Andromache groaned and fell back into bed, dropping her ax back onto the floor.  “Wonderful, I am very glad.  May I sleep now?”

Quynh turned to her and shook her head, pulling her long nightgown off until she was just in her shift.  “We should not waste this weather.”

“What do you mean?” Andromache asked, instantly more awake.

Quynh walked slowly towards her and leaned down to whisper in Andromache’s ear.

“Dance with me.”

She turned and walked out the door.  In a moment, her shift was soaked through but she merely lifted her arms and face to the sky, letting the rain cascade down her.

Then she turned her head to look back at Andromache, sitting stunned in their bed as she stared at the woman who held her heart.

“Are you joining me?” Quynh asked.

Andromache had lived over five thousand years and over the millennia, she had developed a grace in her way of moving that came from battlefields and training.  That said, she scrambled out of bed and her nightgown in her rush to get out to Quynh.

In that moment, the ugliness of their day to day work faded from mind and all Andromache knew was Quynh’s laugh, her cold lips curled into a smile even as they kissed, and her arms around Andromache as they danced in the downpour.

V.

Andy hated coming back to England.  The rain seemed to mock her.

Of course, their assignment had been on the coast.  It was finished now, but still, she had come back to the water.  The vast ocean stretched out in front of her, crashing into the shore and soaking her bare feet.  Her shoes lay forgotten in the sand.

It had been two hundred years since they had given up the search.  More than that since she and Quynh had danced in the rain that night.  The ache was old, but here, in the ocean where somewhere in its depths, Quynh lay trapped and dying… that ache turned into a burn in her chest.

The waves at her feet were the closest she had gotten to touching Quynh in a very long time.

She knelt in the water, uncaring about the ridiculous clothes this century required her to wear.  When she got back to their safe house, she would don trousers and be freer.  For now, she let the layers of fabric soak through around her, weighing her down with each wave.

“Anh nhớ em,” she whispered, and the burn in her chest flared into an inferno.

Joe and Nicky found her there hours later.  The tide had gone out but still, she sat, soaked through and staring blankly out towards the ocean.

+1

As she settled into the jacuzzi bathtub in their latest Air D and D, or whatever Nile called it, Andy let out a deep sigh of relief.  While her muscles had already recovered from the strain of the mission, she still let the warmth soothe away any remnants of pain.  She leaned back and closed her eyes.

The bathroom door opened and closed but she didn’t have to look to know who was there.

There was a rustle of fabric and that, that made Andy turn to watch as Quynh took off her dirtied outfit.  Some things never grew old, no matter how much time had passed.

“Baths have truly come a long way in the time I was gone,” Quynh said, settling into the v between Andy’s legs.  The water splashed a bit as she moved, but as she settled, so did the small waves.

“The world is definitely better for it,” Andy agreed, dropping a kiss on her love’s bare shoulder.

It took them a long time to get here, Quynh’s back to Andy’s front, submerged in warm, scented water in the 21st century.

Andy may always resent the centuries taken from them and the pain they had both gone through to get to this moment.  But now, her arms around her heart long gone from her, she let those feelings fade away in the water and pulled her closer.

They soaked together, unspeaking, as calm as the water around them.

Translations thanks to @hottopicmonk on tumblr: trái tim - heart

ánh nắng của tôi - my sunshine

anh nhớ em - I miss you

#andromaquynh #andy x quynh #joe x nicky #in the background #the old guard #the old guard fanfic #fanfic

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hi Evoe, can I ask for you to write this MCxVinca fic? The request is where mc made deal with demons by giving up ability to feel touch to obtain darkness and light powers so she can keep up with Vinca and her friends. However, demon magic corrupt mc’s soul. Mc went dark and betray her lover by using Vinca’s knife to kill her so she can become Pride and take her mind reading power. Mc made it looks like it’s from Vuzgamad’s ambush and claimed that Vinca made her a successor before her death

Written by: @evoedbd

PART 3

Warnings for

Bad Language

Violence

Blood and Gore

Death

Part One, Part Two

+++++++++++++++++++++

MEMENTO MORI

“Yvette is going to be devastated when you’re gone, Vinca. It only makes sense that Rae steps up, tries to comfort her best friend. It will be glorious, a love story for the ages. Born of tragedy, the dead best friend’s fiancée becoming the love of our heroine’s life. Of course, they will try to deny the feelings… Afterall, I killed you right in front of our new little Pride, she couldn’t save you, couldn’t save anyone. Rae is going to be so tragically broken… but her feelings will just be too strong for her to deny. Of course, this’ll only be once Yvette is nearly driven insane by her own longing for just ONE normal thing in her fucked up little life. Just like a fairy-tale, Yvette won’t be able to hurt Rae… not after Rae was able to “kill” me, to find a loophole in Yvette’s curse. Perhaps she’ll expose that with a kiss, on the anniversary of your death, over your grave. As if you blessed it from the beyond. Extra incentive to leave your little twin behind.” Vuzgamad’s taunting voice was enough to have Vinca hissing between blows. The demon was so sure, so confident as she lounged in a stolen body, across a dingy chair as if it were the unholy throne of hell. Honestly, who the fuck did this bitch think she was? Vinca would have snapped back, have retaliated, if Rae’s punch hadn’t come so close to connecting, only diverted by her sloppier form. The puppeteer too inexperienced, or the mind not committed.  That didn’t render her completely ineffective, not when the shadows played on the edge of Vinca’s vision one moment, and the next she was blinded.  She should have been blinded, only the fact Rae was fighting with everything left of her prevented that power unleashing, prevented her from completely devouring the current Pride assassin.

“Come on Rae, SNAP OUT OF IT.” Vinca pleaded between gasps, between punches and kicks.  Rae advanced viciously, pushing into Vinca’s guard, bringing them to collision after collision.  The safest way to give Vinca victory, but also the most costly.  Rae was good, too good, stronger in hand to hand than Vinca.  It was only Vinca’s blades that granted her leverage, but she didn’t want to use them.  How could she?   Every time she did, it was another slash across Rae’s flesh.  A cut designed to hurt without maiming or slaying, but Rae just kept pushing.  A terminator. The worst foe Vinca could ever face.  Her heart constricted in her chest, costing her precious time, lowering her guard a second too long.  She ducked the next kick, staggered, fell to a knee.  Before Rae’s foot even met the ground, she had raised her second in a brutal kick to Vinca’s chest.  Had she been human, Vinca knew that kick would have done more than sent her flying, arms flailing, knees bent awkwardly.   There was no time to stop, no time to make the answering blow softer.  One foot up, a kick from the ground straight into Rae’s groin.  She wasn’t a man, but society as a whole always underestimated how painful a kick to the vag truly was.  Sure, women were designed to push watermelons out of holes the size of a lemon but come on.   Predictably, Rae locked up with a pained grunt, leaving Vinca free to roll free of the conflict.

“Oh Pride, you sho- NO.  Vinc, RUN.  Please!  I c-can’t…” Rae’s entire body was at conflict.  Her voice changed, tone shifting from malicious to pleading.  The tears gathered within her dark eyes were not solely due to Vinca’s brutal kick, nor purely heartache.  It was the blood of war, blood from a battlefield within her mind spilling through the cracks of a human body. Rae strained; body perfectly exposed. Hesitation.  Rebellion.  A dare within her eyes.  A plea. The perfect opportunity.  One Vinca HAD to take.  A blade, a flick of the wrist, a bullseye waiting to happen.  Until the answering flash of light swallowed the darkness of Rae’s eyes.   It burned, a thousand fingers pulling at the fibre of Vinca’s muscles, the molecules in her bones.   She screamed, rolled across the cool concrete floor as her soul burned, melted along with the metal of her blade.  Said blade fell harmlessly to the concrete floor, bending as softened metal met the hard surface.  Severed from Vinca’s soul.  Another fragment lost.

“Like… Hell… Am I… leaving you.” Vinca gasped out, chipped nails biting into the concrete as she pulled herself to her knees.   Her once bedazzled eyes were now surrounded by smudged makeup, running eyeliner on trickles of blood.  Blush complimented by gravel rash.  Scraped, reduced to bared teeth in threat.

“There’s still a little bit of me left? Oh, I sound so convincing, don’t I? Nobody will see this coming, never in a million years. There’s nothing left, you stupi-”

Vinca reached, plunging herself back into the muck that greeted her when she reached for Rae’s mind. She was in a canyon, looking up at the two sides, unable to decipher which side of the chasm she should scale, only that the muck was pulling her down. A quagmire. Stuck. Trapped. But one side was crumbling, falling into the chasm, building it and filling it. It was too much, it was going to crush her if she didn’t run, didn’t get out. GET OUT! Get out, get out, get out! But she couldn’t. It was all too much. Too hard. So much pressure. Crushing and consuming. She was going to die. She was going to drown in this nothingness. She stared at two glaciers, but one was crumbling, sheets of ice falling away into the blackest ocean, which continued to rise, continued to consume. Which should she reach for? What did this even mean? Why? Why was Rae’s mind suddenly so different? At the bottom, a glint of iron caught her eye. Bars of a vicious cage ensnaring a lone form. A figure drowning, clawing at the bars weakly as the ability to fight drained away.   Vinca was desperate, screaming in a thousand voices, a thousand tongues across conceivable time as she dug.  She dug, hands scooping as she dove into the water, tried to dig deeper into the mud.  It was so thick, so heavy in her hands, yet slid as freely as water.  Like a dog, she dug, arms blurring as she screamed. A handful thrown aside, two more replaced it.  It was futile.  Like fighting the rising sun with nothing but a Pinto and a lasso.  Still, Vinca had to try.  She drove the spurs to the steed. She drunk, trying to swallow the mud, digging the water.  Absorb it, take it in, anything!  Anything to save Rae.

A punch to the breast broke her from the musings, earning an enraged shriek mere moments before she responded in kind.  Rae squeaked in a similar manner, horror flashing across her face, followed by a flush to her cheeks.  Typical of her, to blush like a schoolgirl the moment breasts were involved.  Still, she pushed, using her powerful legs to kick through Vinca’s guard, expensive canvas shoes thankfully taking the brunt of Vinca’s slashes.  The harder Rae attacked, the further onto the backfoot Vinca was forced.  A punch to the face, a slash to the bicep, a death of a thousand cuts.  One cut had two souls bleeding, each worth a thousand words that Pride could never express.   A kick to the ribs, a slash across the thigh.  Please don’t make me do this.  A knee deflected by a hard forearm, followed by a blow to the chin.   Please run.  A backhand across Rae’s face.  Two people flinching.  I’m not leaving you.

“You can try all you want, Vinca, but you can’t stop her unless you kill her… then, there are all these demons.” Vuzgamad pointed out, lifting a little from her makeshift throne.  The demons encircling them hissed and snarled, making themselves known as Vinca drew too close to the edge of their temporary arena. They kept her trapped, pushing her back into Rae’s range time and time again, but never once harming her.  Never causing her to stagger.  It was either a leering blade waved dangerously close, or knuckles cracking beneath wicked bracers.   A few even simply cocked guns at her, each grinning wickedly as she stepped back into the arena.  Back to fighting her heart. It was all a game. A FUCKING game.  That bubbled in her veins, leading her next blow to land a little too hard across Rae’s chest.

“You know, this was all Rae’s idea.  I admit, I never would have put so much effort into ensuring an entire gangs worth of demons prevented you leaving.  A stroke of genius, but that’s to be expected.  Rae truly thought long and hard on how to pick you apart over our time together.   It seems she truly does know you better than anybody alive, as you’ve said.  Even Onyx, bless the girl, couldn’t endure the darkness.  But Rae?  It’s a pity such a virtue has you as her vice… right to the bitter end.” Vuzgamad continued, pausing to snicker at Vinca’s cry of outrage.  A slash across a demon’s throat.  It fell, offering no resistance.  The sound of a gunshot.  A crumpled host.  Two more demons stepping up, pushing Vinca back with seething hatred beneath their almost gentle movement.  

“Do you honestly think you’re doing anything but delaying the inevitable? By hurting Rae, you’re only making it harder for her to fight.” Vuzgamad’s laughter followed another punch to Rae’s nose, one punctuated by a sickly crack. Vinca cringed, leaping backwards as Rae staggered. With a heavy heart she took aim. A flick of her wrist had a blade buried in Rae’s nerves, immobilising the Chinese woman. Before Vinca could even draw a second knife, Rae’s eyes were upon her, the room suddenly darkened, filling her with a chill that ate at her very bones. It was not simply darkness, but the complete absence of light. All save two terrifying eyes. Eyes which seemed to burn, just like the blade in her hand. Just like the blade hidden within Rae’s flesh. Those powers… something so simple yet versatile in Rae’s hands. Something eating at her humanity. The blade was too hot, burning Vinca’s flesh. She screamed, letting the blade fall to the concrete mere moments before her knees did.

The demons around them hissed and snarled, triumph radiating from the hideous visages. Each and every monster was strong and rested, just waiting to pick at the remains. Numerous, beyond what Vinca could see.  Beyond what she could read whilst ducking and weaving.  Whilst struggling to figure a way out.   She couldn’t fight them all, nor could she leave Rae behind.  She couldn’t… couldn’t kill Rae.  No matter what, no matter how pressured, she simply couldn’t.

“Accept it, Vinca Wren.  One of you is not leaving here alive.  Its either you, or her.”

“N- Vinc you have t…” Rae growled, her own hands raised to her eyes, nails biting into her brow as she pressed her palms into her eyesockets.  She trembled; a torn flag trapped within a hurricane.  A grain of sand upon a landslide, an earthquake.  Helpless to it all, no matter how hard she fought.

Vuzgamad was right.

Even if she could beat some sense into Rae, supress what was eroding her, they’d never manage to fight out of this. Sure, the others might find them… but what if they didn’t? Vinca already knew, no matter what, that one of them would be too battered to escape.  There it was, laid out so fricken clearly, the trap she’d ensnared herself in.  Vinca cussed, tears bitterly trailing down her cheeks.  She was only twenty-three.  She didn’t want to die.  Not here, not like this.  An animal in a cage.  She screamed, wordlessly, furiously.  This was so fucking unfair.  She’d given EVERYTHING she had to give.  Her soul.  Her humanity.  Her heart.  She’d given everything save the breath in her lungs and it was STILL not enough.  What more could be taken from her?  Why did fate demand such a thing?  Vinca had no doubt Vuzgamad would kill Rae if Vinca herself escaped. Rae was only useful as a tool. For the hearts bound to her… underestimated. As always. Everyone fucking underestimated Rae, right up until she kicked their ass.  Fuck.  Everyone fucking shat on Rae too, like the most popular latrine in a garrison of soldiers with gastro.   So many people passed her up, never bothering to look into those soulful dark eyes, to question what lingered behind them.  They underestimated her tenacity.  Her intelligence.  Her humanity.

Gods, Vinca fucking loved her. It wasn’t just the little underdog scrambling to every victory that was endearing. It was the gentleness in her eyes. How she trusted her heart so fearlessly. How she continued to sacrifice and fight, even when she was almost broken. Even against the erosion to her humanity. She fought. Even when it was hopeless, she fought, and not even for herself. Rae was throwing herself to the metaphoric wolves, willing to die to protect what she loved.  Vinca knew Rae understood their situation.  She was too smart not to know the moment they walked in.  The moment the teeth snapped shut.  Rae had tried to shove her own foot into that trap, tried to take the fall, to let herself be slain to spare Vinca an ounce of pain.

It couldn’t be Rae.  Vinca realised after one more glance at Rae’s strained features.   How her hand trembled, muscles strained as if held taught by ropes from a thousand directions.  How desperate she was not to grasp Vinca’s fallen blade.   She was so damn beautiful.  Dark eyes flashing with her own fury, clarity for brief flashes, lightning of a storm.  Lips cut, bleeding with every grimace, soaking her chin.  Why?  Rae was a virtue in all but power.  She was love, she was generosity and kindness and patience.  She was EVERYTHING Vinca was not, the counteracting part to a whole that never had truly had the chance to bloom.  The whole Vinca would have given more than herself to see recognised.   This… this was her heart, already torn from her chest, stolen by the cruellest of fates… but at least she had been given the chance to have a taste of paradise.  If only she’d recognised that sooner, instead of fighting herself.

Vinca sighed, slowly rising to her feet.  Determination burning through her veins.  Once chance.  One single chance was all she needed.  A way to break through, to give everything she had left.  The ring hiding in her pocket, a led feather.  It’d always felt so heavy, despite being so light.  Now, it was the wind beneath her broken wings, the only thing preventing her freefalling, plummeting to the earth like the lone tear gathering in her eye.  She watched, saw Rae grab her fallen knife. Stared over the precipice. She was not brave enough to watch, to see that moment unfold.  She had to close her eyes, to let that silly little tear fall as she plunged herself into the murky darkness surrounding Rae’s heart.

If there had to be a sacrifice, so be it.

It would not be Rae.

It would NEVER be Rae.

#answered #anonymous #lovestruck #women of lovestruck #vinca wren #vinca x mc #angst #angsty #tw: violence #tw: blood and gore #tw: death #woeful wednesday

[missameliep]

fanfiction writer asks! how about #1, 6, 10, 29, and 34?

Hi, Jen! Thanks for the ask! 😊

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

That’s a tough question... Considering where I started and how far I’ve come, I think I’d rate it 3 stars. I’ve got a lot to learn still, but I’m mostly pleased with my writing, so... 3 stars.

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

Ordinarily, I’d say nothing is really easy when it comes to write, but I think the easiest part for me are the descriptions of characters and settings, because I usually envision the scenes in my mind. Though it can be complicated to find the exact words and expressions in English, since it’s not my first language.  

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

My favorite genres in fanfiction are fluff and alternate universes. 

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Yes, more than once. I’ve gone outside my comfort zone to write angst and a character I thought was absolute impossible for me to write for (Colt Kaneko) and also smut (omg!! smut is too hard, guys! i don’t know how you guys manage to do it!). I think in the end I was satisfied with both experiences, I’ve learned a lot and it turned out quite okay. 

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

Sorry, but I cannot pick only one! 😳

There’s actually a few parts from Is This Love? that I’m really proud of, and there are many parts from other fics I’m fond too, specially from The Pursuit of Happiness, but I’m not going to spam you... so... those are three I really like. 

Being born poor and beautiful could be as much of a blessing as a curse, Mary Thompson reminded her daughter from time to time. (Extract from Is This Love? - Part 4) 

With a creak the old door opened to a room bathed in the late morning sunlight, which streamed from large windows and dust danced in the air. The woody and faint musty scents reached her nostrils and, instead of frowning as some would, Elizabeth smiled. The air was filled with the passage of time, but she could also recognize the smoke from old battles and dragons’ flames; the floral scent of gardens from distant and exotic lands and the rosewater exuded by the princess’ hair. This was one of her favourite places, where for a few moments she could have a glimpse of a thousand different lives and experience realities other than the one of a poor seamstress’ daughter from a tiny English village. (Extract from Is This Love? - Part 3)

The corners of his eyes collect crinkles from each of his grins, and his blue eyes need lenses to read. But he doesn’t mind that. In fact, he enjoys whenever she sits on his lap and takes his glasses off his face to shower him with kisses. However, when white started peppering Prince Hamid’s dark brown hair years ago, the man’s pride took a hard blow. The idea of turning into an old man was not part of his plans. Not yet, at least. Thus, he vehemently protested when Elizabeth’s hand stopped him from plucking the first white strands spotted. (Extract from The Epilogue of The Pursuit of Happiness)

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35 questions for fanfic writers

#ask box! #thank you 😊 #oxjenayxo #send me asks! 😉